The song referred to in this fic is the traditional canticle ‘Scarborough Fair’. If you do not know the lyrics, then you will find them at the bottom of this chapter, and you may want to scroll down and read them first. I did consider using ‘Wond’ring Aloud’ by Jethro Tull, but thought that might be a little too obscure. More people are likely to have heard/heard of ‘Scarborough Fair.’

The next morning Penny found herself more or less opposite Erestor as they took breakfast. She studiously avoided looking at him because every time she did so an image of him wearing nothing but a barrel would pop into her head, and she knew she would be overcome with hysterical giggling if she did not try and contain herself.

Frankly, it showed a whole side to Erestor she had not really seen so far. He had let his hair down a little at the feast they had had at the end of the war, dancing and laughing heartily, but there had always been that element of quiet watchfulness, a slight reserve about him that she had not seen him lose completely.

The idea that he could get that drunk that he had let himself fall victim to such a prank, let alone the humiliation of being seen steaming about the corridors of Thranduil’s Halls with nothing but a few strips of wood to cover his modesty beggared belief.

It was also hilarious.

“Is there something the matter, Pen-ii?”

Erestor’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“No, no, nothing, Erestor. Why?”

“You seem a little distracted... distant, even. Have I upset you in some way?”

“What? No!” She smiled warmly. A little too warmly, perhaps, but certainly made it clear she was not upset. The very opposite, in fact.

“Ah.”

Erestor paused and looked at her. He noticed that she immediately turned her head away and was trying to bite back a smirk. He sighed. He could guess well enough what the laughter in her tent had been about. The moment Lindir had mentioned it, he knew that she would find out about it and soon. He was only surprised Lindir had not told her himself.

For most of the morning Lindir and Penny rode side by side. Invariably the conversation turned to what she had learnt the previous night. Lindir was filling in the details for her.

“Thranduil was furious one of his guests was so treated.”

“He was right to be furious. So they found the person responsible?”

Lindir grinned.

“That is a ‘no,’ then?”

“It could have been worse,” Lindir sniggered. “There might not have been any empty barrels.”

“I would prefer not to think about it, thank you.” Penny shook her head at Lindir. “Did he ever get his clothes back?”

“He found them outside his chamber door once he managed to escape Galadriel and Celeborn.”

“Well, at least he got his clothes in the end. That was kind of them.”

Penny bit back the smile and tried to look as straight-faced as possible. Lindir raised an eyebrow at her. Then they both fell into hysterics.

“It would not surprise me in the least if you knew who was responsible,” Penny snickered once their laughter had subsided a little.

“Why would I know?” Lindir’s poor attempt at outrage confirmed her suspicions.

“Because they are no doubt a kindred spirit, Lindir. I think Lady Pen-ii knows you well.”

Penny screwed her eyes tight shut and felt herself flush slightly. How long had he been within earshot?

“Forgive me, Erestor, it’s just...”

He held up his hand. “No apology needed. Trust me. I have been through this with countless others over the years.” He sighed wearily as he spoke. It was clear he had resigned himself many years ago to never living it down. “Now, if you have finished laughing at my expense, perhaps we can have a little Sindarin reading practise? Lindir, is there really nothing else you need to be doing?”

“Not right now, no.”

Erestor looked at him.

“Forgive me, my friend,” Lindir chuckled. “I will leave you and your pupil in peace.” So saying, he said a word to his horse and it obediently trotted forward down the path.

There was a few moments of awkward silence at first. Penny filled them by stopping her horse, climbing out of the saddle and getting her copy of the Fall of Gondolin from her bag. She waited for Erestor to tell her to begin reading as she asked the mare to start walking once more.

“Westron,” Erestor said at last.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You will need to learn some. We have two months’ travel ahead of us so that is more than enough time to get you to learn some basic phrases at least.”

“But I am only just able to speak Sindarin! I can not learn another language so soon!”

“Of course you can, Pen-ii. You have shown yourself to be a capable student..”

Penny noted his choice of words. She was no linguist, she had never claimed to be so, but it was still interesting that Erestor judged her against more able students he had taught in the past.

“... and it would do you well to have a little skill when faced with Westron in Rohan or Gondor. The sooner we start, the more likely it will be you might remember some basic essentials. It will not be as easy to learn for you as Sindarin was...”

‘Which was far from ‘easy’!’ Penny thought to herself. Erestor ignored the astonished snort she gave.

“...given you will not be surrounded by people speaking it all the time. Even so, it is a necessary skill if you are ever to communicate with anyone other than elves or Dunedain.”

Penny had managed to forget for a few days that there was a very real possibility she may not be returning to Rivendell. Erestor had reminded her and was correct in some ways: if she were to stay in Minas Tirith, then she needed to have the language. Something inside Penny twisted into a knot at the idea of not coming back, let alone the trepidation of being faced with a whole new culture and set of problems in Gondor. Added to which she was expected to learn a whole new language, and she knew what a hard taskmaster Erestor could be once he was in ‘teacher mode.’

‘Fan-bloody-tastic,’ she thought, witheringly.

“We shall make a start tonight. Now, continue reading, please from where we left off yesterday.”

When Erestor said a thing, he meant it. That night he started her on a few basic phrases – things that she could easily use on a regular basis amongst them all without losing her Sindarin, like please, thank you. Over the next few days, though, it became clear that Penny was going to struggle with taking on board a second language so soon. She would forget things easily, especially with no means to write them down or hear them used regularly, and the Sindarin version of a word or phrase would all too easily come to her lips instead.

Erestor realised he would be fortunate indeed if he had taught her very much at all by the time they reached Minas Tirith. Still, it needed to be done and if anyone could manage it, it was Erestor. After all he had managed to teach her Sindarin, had he not?

The days passed easily enough. The terrain changed little, as she knew it would. The only thing that did change was that as they headed ever westwards, the mountains grew steadily nearer. With each steep-sided valley they climbed in or out of by winding pathways, Penny also had the distinct impression that they were gaining altitude also. She vaguely remembered from the books it being described as a ‘bleak’ landscape, but she did not find it so. True, it was wild and rough, but it reminded her a little of holidays spent in Scotland as a child: a rugged place but with a beauty of its own. Admittedly she was seeing it in summer and without the foreknowledge of a desperate and possibly doomed journey ahead of her as Frodo had done, which probably made a huge difference.

The streams and brooks that filled the valleys became progressively more turbulent and filled with boulders as they continued on their way. Even if her first experience of ‘outdoor, communal bathing’ had not been so alarming, Penny doubted she would have braved the elements in such places. It would have meant a stand-up wash in very, very fast-running cold water, and standing barefoot on a whole lot of rocks as you did so.

No bloody way, Jose. The freezing indignity of stand-up washes behind a sheet were about as much as Penny felt she could cope with.

As it was, the times when there was sufficient cover for bathing to take place were few and far between and became less so the nearer they got to the mountains. It was at least two days more before the second time such an affair could be organised, and then, of course, it was the turn of the males amongst them.

Penny tried very, very, very hard not to think about that while it was going on. Even so, there was something vaguely unnerving about seeing groups of stunningly handsome ellyn disappearing off into the trees with towels over their shoulders. It had been bad enough getting an eyeful of bare-chests months before, and so she well enough knew how toned they were underneath their clothes.

Penny stared very hard at the vegetables she was peeling and gave them ALL her concentration. The shouts of laughter and sounds of splashes in the near distance made it a little difficult, though. She was quite grateful when one of the ellith started singing, with a few others accompanying her on lyre and flute.

Penny made slow work on her carrots. However, when the others with her had finished their piles of potatoes, leeks and parsnips, Penny refused their kind offers to help her. She was happy to have something to occupy her that didn’t involve language lessons and yet could keep her brain busy with anything other than images of naked ellyn in rivers.

Indeed, such was her determination to blank out such pictures that she was not aware that, as she finished the last of the carrots, she was quietly humming to herself. She often did so as she worked on a task such as gardening or throwing a pot. She was usually careful about doing so out of earshot of elves, though, since invariably it would be some ridiculous tune from her own time and not something she had got to know during her time in Rivendell.

“Interesting,” a voice muttered from behind her. “Simplistic, perhaps, and a little strange to my ears, but interesting nonetheless. Am I allowed to know the words too?”

Penny nearly cut herself with the knife in her hand as she practically jumped out of her skin.

Lindir laughed. “Forgive me, Pen-ii, I did not mean to startle you.”

Penny looked at him, grin plastered all over his face and his hair still wet, though already combed through. How long had he been standing there? Added to which, what did he mean...? Penny blinked at him in horror as she suddenly realised what she had been doing. She could not even remember now what tune it was that had been in her head. Something entirely unsuitable for elvish ears, anyway - that much she could say for certain.

Bugger. Bugger, damn and blast and then some.

“That is rather rude, you know, to stand behind someone without making your presence known.”

“Oh, yes?” Lindir raised an eyebrow as he came to sit next to her. “Why are you so determined that I should not know a song or two from you? It’s clear to me now after hearing that snippet that you do indeed know some, contrary to what you said to me before. But then I always suspected as much. You also have a reasonably fair voice. Not like a howling dog as you claimed. Far from it.”

He was smiling as he spoke, not berating her at all but just trying to be friendly. He could see she was not amused, though, and clearly a little uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with those carrots? You have been at them long enough. You were already halfway through them when I left for a bathe.”

“No, thank you,” Penny said a little curtly. So saying she picked up the last couple, plonked them in her lap and set to peeling.

There was a brief silence.

“I paid you a compliment just now, you know.”

“Yes, I know, and I thank you for it. You are wrong, but thank you anyway.”

“I thought you had realised the other day I am something of a musician. I do know when someone can sing a little, Pen-ii...”

“Lindir, could we stop this conversation? Please! I did not even realise I was doing anything. I was not thinking. You were not meant to hear it.”

“I realise that,” Lindir said quietly. He looked at her, his expression serious. “Will you ever explain things to me you think?”

Penny stopped what she was doing for a moment and stared at the ground. She wanted to talk to him, tell him, explain... and yet... She sighed. She nodded, though she did not look at him.

“One day. Perhaps. I want to. Believe me, I want to. Just, please... not yet. I do not even know what song I had in my head just now, I could not repeat it even if I wanted to. You would find it strange and ridiculous, and if Erestor heard the words I am sure he would be appalled.”

“Erestor has heard human songs before. Drinking songs in particular can be...” Lindir searched for the right word, “...interesting.”

Penny looked at him in amusement and astonishment.

“Pen-ii, you forget that much of the human contact we have in Rivendell is with male warriors.”

“Even so, I can hardly imagine Dunedain singing about such things! Aragorn? Halbarad? You can not be serious!”

“Well, perhaps not those two, but they will know them well enough and laugh with the rest.” Lindir shrugged. “That is how you mortals are, is it not?”

Penny suddenly realised that Lindir now thought she would not sing any of her songs because they were all filthy.

“My songs are not like that! They are just too strange for elvish ears, that is all.”

“But...”

“No, Lindir. Please. As a friend, just leave this.”

He nodded. “Very well. But I will keep pressing you. I have a song writer’s interest, you know.” He grinned as Penny groaned and shook her head. “Now, give me that knife and those carrots before Naurdir gets back; otherwise he will not be impressed.”

In that moment Penny came to a decision. She had been mulling it over for weeks now, if not a few months. Things had been coming to a head and she felt, in all conscience, she had to do something about this. Lindir was too good a friend not to.

After supper, as an ellon rather well known for his public speaking and story telling regaled them all with tales of the First Age, Penny made her way over to Elrond’s tent which he shared with Glorfindel, Erestor and one or two others. She coughed slightly and said his name from outside.

“Come, Lady Pen-ii. We are quite decent, I assure you,” Elrond’s voice came from inside.

Penny stepped through the open entrance, the flap having been rolled up and tied to one side. Glorfindel and Arwen were with him, all sharing a drink and chatting amiably.

“You do not wish to listen to the tales, Pen-ii?” Glorfindel smiled at her.

“Indeed I do, but I also need to speak to Lord Elrond about a matter that I really feel I cannot decide upon by myself.” She looked at Elrond. “I need your advice, my lord, if I am not troubling you.”

“Not at all, Penny.”

“Do you wish to speak to my father privately?” Arwen was making as if to stand and leave.

“No, no! Please, stay. Both you and Lord Glorfindel know my situation, so it is of no consequence if you stay. Indeed I would value both your opinions on this also.”

“Ah, this is why you have come to speak to me in private,” Elrond nodded and smiled softly. “I did wonder as much. Well, Pen-ii, what is it? What can I help you with?”

“Lindir.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow at her.

“I want to tell him about me, about who I am – my situation. You advised me, and I understand why you did so, that I should not speak to anyone. But Lindir is now my friend and... he asks difficult questions at times. Sometimes I think he already knows, or guesses near it, even though I know that can not be possible, but I want to tell him. I felt I should ask you first, though.”

Elrond considered for a moment. “Well, Pen-ii. The war is over and much has changed. Your knowledge was mainly of the war, was it not? I do not see why there should be any reason why you do not tell those that you wish to tell. I would advise you limit the number you inform and only relate your story if you really feel you have to. We elves have seen many things that may seem strange to others, and there is much that we can accept and believe, but your story is strange even to us.”

“I would agree with that,” Glorfindel added. “Lindir, however, is a good and noble ellon. He is wiser than his jovial demeanour can indicate at times. He is close to you and would not divulge this information to anyone, you can rest assured on that.”

“Oh, I know, Lord Glorfindel. I trust him absolutely. I would not consider speaking to him were that not the case.”

“I think my father means this is no longer his responsibility, Pen-ii. You are free to do as you choose.” Arwen smiled kindly at her. “You do not need his permission. Now the war is won, your knowledge is no longer a potential threat.”

Penny nodded but stayed quiet.

Elrond looked at her sharply. Not for the first time, he had a strong sense that she had not told him everything she knew. He had tried to press her on it a few weeks after the War had finished, but she would not be moved.

“I have my reasons. It is not easy. But then you know none of it has,” was all she had said.

Elrond had little choice, he knew, but to accept it. She would indeed have her reasons, he knew, but he wondered what he could be that was of such importance even now Sauron had fallen. Something closer to home, he suspected, though he could not be certain.

“Arwen is correct in her assessment, Pen-ii. I think Lindir deserves to know if only, as you say, because he is now a close friend of yours. I think it is a measure of how much he esteems your insistence on privacy that he has not tried to broach the subject with Glorfindel, Erestor or myself before. I feel sure he must know or suspect that we know the truth of your situation.”

“I have told him that you know, Lord Elrond.”

“Ah, then that merely proves my point.”

“I am not sure I will tell him just yet, though. It will need time... and privacy. Neither of which are easy to get here.”

“Lothlorien will be ideal,” Arwen smiled.

“That is what I was hoping.” Penny breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

And that was that. Decision made. It was as if a weight lifted a little in Penny’s mind. She went out of the tent with a slightly lighter step, or so it seemed.

“Lindir? Lindir, can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” Lindir looked up from the group of ellyn he was chatting with and beckoned her over.

“No, could we talk here?”

Lindir furrowed his brows but stood and came over to her. “What is it?”

“I have...” She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and thinking they were too close to the general company and well within earshot. “This way.” She walked away a little, towards the trees. Lindir stopped her.

“Careful. The stream is that way, and there may still be one or two ellyn having a late bathe.” He chuckled. “Seeing us washing our clothes is one thing. Seeing us washing ourselves, however...”

Penny blushed furiously while Lindir laughed, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He lead her in a different direction till they were out of earshot of the others. Even so she kept her voice low.

“Now what is so secret that you cannot speak of it in front of anyone, hmm?”

“I still can not relax or speak openly while we travel, Lindir, but I just wanted to tell you that I will talk to you in Lothlorien. I have spoken to Lord Elrond to get his advice and he agrees with me that you have a right to know. You are my friend. I want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Lindir was silent for a moment, though a smile played upon his lips. “Thank you. I realise whatever it is, it is difficult and private. It means much to me that you feel you can trust me at last.”

“It was not a matter of trust, Lindir.”

“No?”

“No. It was... It will become clear when I tell you.” She stood to head back to the others.

“Indeed?”

“Yes. So you can stop asking me to sing now.”

“Oh, no, you do not get off that easily, young lady,” Lindir laughed.

“But, Lindir...!”

“No, I have an interest. I like to hear the songs of different places and peoples. It is always fascinating. I collect such things, write them down. No, you are going to relate some of your tunes whether you like it or not.”

“Argh! You are impossible!”

Lindir just laughed.

“You are not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“No.”

Penny thumped him. Not hard, just playfully on the arm. Even so it raised an astonished laugh from Celebdor and Mireth as they joined them.

“What is this? Lindir being beaten by Lady Pen-ii? Dear me!” Celebdor was grinning like a maniac.

“She is berating me for insisting she sing for us.”

“Oh, would you? That would be wonderful!” Mireth beamed at Penny.

Penny could have happily murdered Lindir.

“No, really, I do not think...”

“Yes, please do, Pen-ii,” Celebdor was now chiming in. “It would be nice to hear something from your land. We know so little of it, after all.”

“What is this?” Erestor looked up.

“Pen-ii’s going to sing for us,” Mireth chirped.

“Is she now?” Erestor raised and eyebrow and smirked at Penny. “This will be most informative.”

Penny groaned and then glared at Lindir, who was clearly finding all of this highly entertaining.

“Really, I cannot. My voice is not good. I cannot remember...”

“Her voice is perfectly adequate,” Lindir chipped in. “And I heard her humming a tune to herself this afternoon.” He plonked himself down on the grass next to Celebdor.

“Oh, well in that case...” Celebdor agreed.

“If you feel it would be too embarrassing, Pen-ii, then do not let Lindir pressure you into doing something you would not feel comfortable doing. It would be wonderful to hear something from you, though.” Mireth was always so kind. “Even if you feel it is not of the same standard of our songs, it would be something different, something new for us. We always like that.”

Penny knew she was not getting out of this. Damn Lindir! She had been wracking her brains for suitable songs over the past weeks since Lindir had been getting more and more insistent about this. She had managed to dredge up from her memory one or two that might be suitable and had been running them over again and again in her head just in case she needed them. She had known it was simply a matter of time before she could not say ‘no’ anymore. Well, it seemed now was the time. She groaned again.

Okay, something simple. And something short.

Think, Penny! THINK!

She was only grateful that there were not too many others within the immediate vicinity, though she was well aware that even the elves on the other side of the crowd would probably be able to hear her. Thankfully there was enough chatter, singing and laughing going on that if she sang quietly enough...

“Well? We are waiting.”

“Be quiet, Lindir, I am thinking of something.”

At last she took a deep breath, prayed one last time for the ground to open up beneath her and, when it did not, started to sing. Her voice cracked a bit at first through nerves, but she just stared at the tree tops and kept going, as quietly as she dared, and sat down quickly, blushing furiously once she was done.

“Now, what was so hard about that?” Lindir said to her. “A pretty enough tune, if simple and repetitive, but then so many mortal tunes are.”

“The words are very odd, from what I could make out,” Erestor seemed a little puzzled.

“I liked it,” Mireth smiled. “And Lindir is right, your voice is quite fair.”

Penny knew Mireth was just being kind, but thanked her anyway. She could hold a tune well enough and had sung in choir in school, but compared to an elf’s singing voice she sounded like nothing on earth and ‘quite fair’ was pushing it. She noticed Celebdor said little other than smiling at her and muttering ‘well done’. Well, it was done, it was over and hopefully Lindir would leave it be for a while.

“What were the words, then?” Lindir was asking Erestor.

“It was a love song and a riddle as far as I can tell. I take it Skar Borofayr is a place? And what is ‘cambrik’? A type of cloth or a style of making clothes?”

Penny realised with some horror that Lindir was now insisting she sing it again, but provide a Sindarin translation as she went. He was suddenly in ‘professional musician’ mode. Mireth and Celebdor left them to it.

Typical! Not enough to just stand up, sing a song and sit down again. No, she needed the linguist and the songwriter poring over every damn detail!

Bloody elves!

“Look, if this is the sort of thing that is going to happen every time I sing something, then you can forget it!”

“Oh, good!” Lindir beamed. “Does that mean you are going to sing something else, then?”

“That was not what I meant!”

“Well, before you do,” Erestor interjected. “I need to know what a ‘sikel’ is...”

Are you going to Scarborough fair?
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Remember me to one who lives there;
She once was a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Without no seams, nor needlework;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to find me an acre of land
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Between the salt water and the sea strand;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
And gather it all with a rope made of heather
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Are you going to Scarborough fair?
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Remember me to one who lives there;
She once was a true love of mine.