Chapter 32 - “Repercussions”

Halladan slowly let go of her wrist and, just as slowly, Penny lowered her arm. Her gaze was focused somewhere on a pure white flagstone in front of her. She could feel tears pricking her eyes, but whether out of anger, frustration, over Hiluin and his poor wife, or simply because she had just made a complete spectacle of herself, she was not entirely sure.

Probably a combination of all four, if she were honest.

The last few minutes seemed surreal, like a dream, as if they had never happened. Yet the angry murmurs around her and the furious Dunadan standing next to her let Penny know it had been all too real.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly to no one in particular, though perhaps mostly to Halladan standing right beside her still. “I am sorry. I should not have… Stupid and childish of me to react to her that way. What must you think of me?”

“Do not apologise. Never apologise for speaking the truth or defending it.”

She glanced at Halladan, and though it was clear he was still furious when he looked at her, there was almost the hint of a smile… or did she imagine it?

“Indeed, you were sorely provoked,” Erestor said. “I would be the first to point out that it might have been more politic had you kept your tongue, perhaps…”

“Oh, come now, Erestor!” Arvain was making no attempt to hide his anger. “You heard what that idiotic girl said! It was outrageous!”

“I was about to say exactly that,” Erestor responded calmly. “What Lady Sidhwen said just now was beyond the bounds of decency. She had no right and I commend your words, Pen-ii,” he continued, “But I cannot pretend that the manner in which you expressed yourself was the most appropriate one you could have chosen, that is all.”

Around them people were slowly moving into the Hall for lunch, though few had much of an appetite after the news of Hiluin. Those nearest to them stared as surreptitiously as they dared at Penny as they passed by. While many would come to agree that Sidhwen had long had it coming and that Penny had been sorely tried by Sidhwen’s carping, Penny had not behaved in a manner befitting a lady of the royal court – on that there was no disagreement whatsoever.

For now, though, Penny felt some comfort from her friends’ words. Looking round at the others, she could see how angry many were from their tight jaws and glaring eyes, but it was not directed at her. Arvain caught her glance and gave her a smile.

“You told her what many have long thought, Pen-ii.”

“Do not encourage her, Arvain.” Erestor’s tone was lighter than might have been expected as he said this.

“Anyone who has had to face battle would have been proud to hear you speak as you just did.” Faelon seemed to speak for many there, as there were murmurs of agreement, from Halladan in particular. “It needed to be said. If you had not, then I would have done so myself. Though perhaps,” he added with an amused expression, “not quite so forcefully or publicly.”

Meresel seemed at something of a loss. She was clearly shocked by Penny’s outburst but also agreed Sidhwen had gone beyond mere bitchiness.

“Shall we go in for lunch?” she suggested tentatively.

Penny shook her head. “I am not hungry. You go. I shall…” She trailed off, not at all sure of what to do with herself.

Eleniel stepped up to her, shaking her head with a soft smile.

“Ah, Pen-ii, Pen-ii! Did I not tell you to not let her rile you?”

“Even Meresel felt her comments were unacceptable, Eleniel.”

Meresel looked even more uncomfortable at the idea her initial comments may have been a trigger for Penny’s outburst.

“True.” Eleniel looked after the still retreating figure of Sidhwen now some way in the distance. “She is so very young and spoiled.”

“I think the general consensus is that her father over-indulged her to make up for losing her mother so young,” Meresel said. “It has not served her well.”

“No indeed,” Mireth said, with some feeling. “She has a sharp tongue and an ability to see the worst in a situation. I pity the man she marries.”

“Oh, but I thought that was to be Arvain, was it not?” Celebdor said quickly, with a grin.

“What?!” Arvain looked appalled and everyone, even Penny, burst out laughing, some of the tension and mood broken at last.

The others went into lunch, but Penny had not been lying when she said she had no appetite. She dreaded to think how her outburst would be viewed by the court once word spread, let alone how Aragorn would react. One by one her friends hugged or kissed her, telling her not to be concerned, that she had spoken rightly if in the wrong manner, and that was a very good point in her favour since Sidhwen had been entirely in the wrong. Faelon came and gave her shoulder a squeeze, telling her not to worry and he would speak to the King in her defence if needs be, but the very fact that he felt he needed to say that only made Penny worry all the more. Meresel said nothing, but held her hand for a moment and smiled a little awkwardly, still not quite sure how to react to it all. Arvain went to the Hall, offering to bring some food out to her, but she thanked him and said there was no need.

Halladan hesitated, though. He turned back to her as the others slowly made their way into lunch.

“Erestor is right, you know. It was not the wisest of actions.”

“I know.” Yet again ‘open mouth, insert foot Penny’ had reared its ugly head, she thought to herself. She sighed. “Lady Sidhwen will be worse than ever now.”

“Lady,” (Halladan’s tone as he said the word made it very clear he considered her to be anything but), “Sidhwen’s opinion is worth less than nothing. She proved that just now, not that any proof was needed.” He spoke with a ferocity that surprised her.

There was a pause and then he gestured towards the steps to the Hall.

“Are you sure you do not wish to join us, even if you do not eat..?”

She shook her head.

“Well, if you will not come in, then I shall keep you company.”

“No, but you must eat…”

He waved his hand.

“In truth I have no appetite either. Not after hearing about …” His face grew grim for a few moments. Then he roused himself and forced a smile. “But enough of such things. Where shall we wander?”

They did not wander terribly far in the end, since Halladan was beginning to slow and limp, having been on his leg all morning. So they sat at the embrasure at the far end of the courtyard and at the top of the huge cliff that looked out over the Pelennor. They chatted quietly about nothing terribly important, and soon he had made her forget the incident with Sidhwen had ever happened, at least for a little while.

She was called for after lunch, however - first by Arwen and then by Aragorn.

Arwen listened, head bowed as Penny explained what had happened and was backed up by Eleniel, Mireth and Meresel. Apparently Sidhwen had already been seen by the Queen, saying that Penny had insulted her and her family, so if she had lost her temper it was not without provocation. Arwen made it clear she felt this was utter nonsense and while she could not approve of Penny’s outburst, she understood it completely.

Aragorn was a slightly different matter. Gandalf and Elrond were with him as those who knew Penny well, and Faramir as his Steward. The meeting was kept informal, but Penny was left in no doubt that such an outburst was not to be tolerated, that Sidhwen was a lady of honour and good family and, for all her many faults, had to be treated with some respect.

“If you had heard what she said …”

“I am well aware of what she said, Pen-ii. I had a blow-by-blow account from Erestor and Faelon. Both of whom defended you admirably, might I add.”

“Lady Sidhwen has always been a little…” Faramir was clearly searching for a diplomatic way of putting it. “Highly strung, shall we say? It is best not to take too much notice of what she says.”

Gandalf insisted on walking her to the door, and as he did so she heard him chuckle.

“‘Female dog,’ Pen-ii? Tsk, tsk. Of course, I should perhaps point out that such a term, while not an insult in Sindarin, is a very great one in Westron. Just a word of caution.”

Penny could not tell if he was telling her off or providing her with possible ammunition for the future.

“For what it is worth, your spirited defence of warriors, marred or whole, has been noted and praised by several, including all here in this room… Though I do not doubt Elrond would prefer I did not tell you that…”

Penny looked at him in some surprise and confusion.

“Oh, I think he worries you might see it as encouragement to have a second bout with this Lady Sidhwen, but I know you better than that. You would not incur the wrath of a King, a wizard, several warrior elves and Dunedain, would you, Pen-ii?” He grinned as Penny blinked at him. “No, of course not.”

She was surprised to find Arvain, Halladan and Faelon waiting for her outside in the courtyard. As she greeted them, Faelon stepped forward to her and asked if she would like to join them for a ride outside the city.

“Just for an hour or two, for a change of scene,” he said, breezily enough.

Penny thanked them and said she would like nothing better.

She followed them down to the Sixth Circle and to the stables beside the Houses of Healing to find four horses saddled and ready, including the mare Penny had ridden all the way from Imladris.

There was no hint of where they were going, only that they seemed impatient to be off. The three men were smiling and chatting, but there was a mood of quiet seriousness and resolute determination about them that Penny could not quite fathom.

She was glad to be on a horse once more and to be leaving the city, though. She had not looked forward to spending the afternoon wondering if she was likely to bump into Sidhwen or any of her cronies any time soon.

The four made their way down through the levels and out onto the Pelennor. Once out of the gates, they turned right and slowly headed south along the main road for a good mile or so. The moment they turned south Penny briefly wondered if she could guess where they might be headed. It made her wary to ask where they might be going for fear of the answer. At the same time, if they were not heading there, then she wondered if she might finally find the courage to ask if they could take her to it.

However, after they turned down a small track, rode through some trees and then broke through into the sunlight once more, she was left in no doubt. Ahead there were a series of low mounds, many with standards beside them and surrounded by stones, ditches or spears.

If she had been walking, she would have faltered, perhaps slowed to a halt, but her mare kept a measured pace all the while.

Faelon slowed his horse and came alongside her.

“Legolas had a word with me,” Faelon explained quietly. “He guessed you were perhaps finding it difficult to know how to ask this of us or even if you should do so.”

Penny nodded slowly but could not find any words. She looked at Faelon who smiled gently.

Arvain and Halladan had fallen silent, she noted.

Soon enough they reached the meadow in which the low, large grassy humps were situated. They halted, and for a moment no one moved. Penny was not sure if she should say something or wait for them to take the lead, but none of the men showed any indication of doing anything at all. So at last Penny slowly dismounted and took a few steps towards the mounds.

They were of varying sizes. She could make out the standards of Gondor flying next to several; one or two had second, smaller standards she now knew to be that for the city of Dol Amroth. One large mound had a standard above it with a white horse on a green background, and Penny knew that the many from Rohan who had fallen on the Pelennor lay there.

But it was the smallest, nearest mound that drew her eye.

Spears marked the east and west, and the western spear bore the king’s standard, a smaller copy of the one Arwen had made that Halbarad himself had carried and then Arvain after him: that of the royal line, of the Dunedain.

She glanced behind her to see Faelon and Arvain had now also dismounted but Halladan remained on his horse, his face unreadable, set like granite. Faelon and Arvain started towards her, but she stopped them without really knowing why.

“No… Let me go alone.”

This was a private moment, but also she did not want them to feel obliged to do something that might cause them distress, Arvain in particular, or that was perhaps not their custom.

It took no time to reach it. She had no idea what she was meant to do, what was expected of her, if anything. The mound was built quite high, in that it was no mere bump on the ground, but deliberately raised to the height of a few feet, but it was not terribly wide compared to the others. Only seven had fallen from the Dunedain, including Halbarad and Hirvell, and only three of those were buried here.

‘Only.’

Penny berated herself.

So here he was. The man who had rescued her, become her friend and, for so brief a time, become her rock. Here, in the earth right next to her… and his son was not even with him but miles away in some cold spot next to just about the worst place in Arda.

She had to do something, make some gesture, however futile and redundant.

She glanced about her and saw spots of colour in the meadow grass. No more than weeds, she did not doubt, but no matter. She spent a few minutes picking a bunch of the prettiest she could find. Then coming back to the mound, she crouched down, placing the flowers on the side of the mound and, almost without realising she was doing so, laid her hand on the earth beside them.

How long she stayed like that, one hand resting on the mound, her head bowed as she wept silently, she had no idea, but after some time she felt a gentle hand press on her shoulder. She looked up to see Faelon smiling sadly down on her.

“Come,” he said quietly. “It is time we left the dead to their rest.”

She nodded, wiping her face with her hand and getting to her feet.

“We felt… they felt,” he said glancing back at the two brothers, one standing, one still astride his horse and both watching her in silence, “you had a right to be shown this place, to come and say your farewell as you saw fit.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No, thank you. It is not our custom,” he indicated the flowers, “but the gesture means much. And after your spirited defence of us all today, well… I am glad to bring you here. He would have wanted it. He would have been proud of what you said today.”

She forced a smile. “Do not say things like that, Faelon, you will make me cry once more.”

He managed a half-hearted chuckle.

They walked slowly back to the horses.

Arvain was smiling sadly at her, his face looking more drawn than she had ever seen it, but that was perhaps to be expected. He merely nodded once as their eyes met and she understood: it was his way of thanking her the way Faelon had just done, even if he was, for once, unable to find his voice.

Halladan had not moved in all this time. His face was dark and sombre. As Penny moved past him to her horse, he said her name. She looked up at him, and the depth of sorrow and grief in his face nearly broke her heart.

“He would have been proud to see you honour him so,” he said quietly, his voice thick and gravely with emotion.

“It is the very least I could do for one as noble and kind as he,” she replied. “I only wish I could do more.”

And she meant it.

At first the journey back to the city was subdued if not completely silent for the most part. Faelon would on occasion point out a landmark or building to Penny, but otherwise she had only the countryside to look at and the presence of three burdened men to remind her of where she had just been. She was lost in her own thoughts also, so she would have been in no mood for conversation. She was grateful, though, that they had taken her, and glad that it had been them who had done so, these men who had known and loved Halbarad so well, and not anyone else.

After some time, however, when they were about halfway back to the city, Faelon made a point of telling a few stories of Halbarad, the man he had known since childhood. He and Halbarad were of the same generation, had fought side by side on many occasions, and both their families were close. Faelon soon had Arvain laughing out loud with various memories, prompting Arvain to add a few of his own. Halladan was still quiet, but smiling broadly or shaking his head now and then at some tale or other. By the time they made it all the way back up to the Sixth Circle, the mood was quite different from when they had left the graves.

As they dismounted and began undoing fastenings on saddles and bridles before handing the horses over to the stable lads, Penny found she and Halladan were standing practically side by side. She paused before lifting off her saddle.

“Halladan?”

“Yes?” He glanced up as he undid a bridle fastening on his horse.

“Thank you. This has meant a lot to me.”

He said nothing, smiled thinly but sincerely, and then focused back on the bridle.

That evening Penny made a point of staying outside in the courtyard, away from the general company. Even so she had a couple of people come up to her and say they had heard what she had said in defence of Hiluin and soldiers in general and that they were glad. Sam was particularly insistent on this point.

“I think it is a liberty, and no mistake. I might not have fought in any great battle to speak of, though we did have that moment on Amon Sûl that I will not forget in a hurry and them orcs in Moria too, but to speak so ill of those who went through so much… Why it makes my blood boil, it truly does!”

He was not the only one to feel that way.

On the other side of the coin, there were the many, perhaps more, who raised an eyebrow or two at Penny’s manner of going about it. Clearly she was a woman who lacked either self-control or a sense of decorum. Was she really the sort wanted in the royal court? Very possibly not, if that sort of outburst was to be a regular occurrence. There were enough looks, whispering, pointing and muttering for Penny to realise that if she did indeed stay on in Gondor, her actions had certainly made sure that life would be very difficult for her once the elves and Dunedain had left. Not only that, but she would have to share a city, indeed be part of the same small group of nobles, as Sidhwen, Sidhwen’s family and Sidhwen’s friends. For all the support Penny had for her sentiment, her behaviour had thrown up more problems than it solved.

Sidhwen was conspicuous by her absence that evening, and her entourage were particularly quiet, sulking in dark corners for most of the evening and looking rather put out. Sidhwen had been dealt with most courteously by the King and Queen, as was to be expected given the grace and nobility of the two, but whispering was rife as to what had gone on behind closed doors.

The King had been ‘somewhat cool’ in his manner to her, asking rather harshly if it was true she had declared Hiluin a coward for being affected by war. It was added, on good authority, that Sidhwen’s father had been there with her, his gaze furious and his cheeks flushed with shame to hear his daughter had been so cavalier about a soldier’s plight and so insulting to a guest of the realm and a personal friend of the Queen. The Queen, it was said, had taken Sidhwen’s father aside and gently but firmly suggested he might like to take Sidhwen to visit family in Lebennin for a few days or at least until the royal entourage left with King Eomer to travel to Rohan and, no, Lady Sidhwen would not be accompanying her on that little sojourn away.

It was clear, then, that Sidhwen was out of favour with the court. Apparently she was packing her bags even as Penny sat down to dinner.

However, Penny took no joy from this knowledge, since she could guess easily enough it would only serve to make Sidhwen and her supporters loathe Penny all the more. It made the prospect of being ‘gently persuaded’ to stay in Minas Tirith even less appealing that it already was.

The next day Meresel had insisted Penny, Eleniel and Mireth join her and her two boys as she went to visit her sister on the Pelennor. They walked, since it was no more than a mile from the city, if not a little less. Her boys were five and three and complained of being tired after a little while. Eleniel, Penny and Mireth sang them songs, took turns in carrying them both, and pointed out wildlife and flowers, asking their local names, to keep them entertained, and the time passed quickly enough.

Meresel’s sister and her husband owned a large orchard, much of which had been decimated by random acts of orcish vandalism – mainly involving setting fire to some trees and chopping great big chunks out of others. There were several people in the fields helping them to clear the way for new trees once saplings could be grown, and Penny recognised one or two elves and a Dunadan amongst them.

They spent the day there, having a picnic out on the meadow in front of the small cottage, and only came back in the late afternoon.

Again, Penny was glad to be out of the city once more and it made the return to the stone streets that much more oppressive. That familiarity was beginning to take its toll on her: it was making her feel slightly homesick for the first time in a long time, and that very familiarity was also throwing the differences of her new life into a sharper relief than ever.

That evening she still felt a little uncomfortable dodging the black looks from Sidhwen’s friends as she accepted dances from various Gondorian lords, elves or Dunedain. The word was Hiluin’s wife was still gravely ill and Hiluin had not spoken one word since the incident. Penny was not the only one upset to hear this.

She came outside to find Halladan was at some distance from the Hall, but Arvain and Faelon were chatting quietly with Celeborn.

“Ah, Pen-ii,” Celeborn smiled as she came towards them. “Taking some air?”

“Something like that, my lord.”

“Have you heard? Lady Sidhwen left the city this morning.” Arvain looked faintly relieved.

“Yes, I had heard.” Penny did not sound overly thrilled.

They chatted for a little while, and then Celeborn made his apologies, saying he should probably head back inside and be sociable. Arvain said he would join him since Penny was not in the mood for dancing, but Faelon had just lit his pipe and so kept Penny company.

They chatted of this and that, Faelon asking about her day and the like. Halladan was just visible, walking by himself at the far end of the courtyard, seemingly deep in his own thoughts. Faelon fell into silence, taking contemplative pulls at his pipe every now and then while Penny watched Halladan slowly pace to and fro in the distance.

“Faelon?”

“Hmm?”

“I realise… I mean I know Halladan’s loss was a hard one, but I find it difficult to understand why he and Arvain are so very different. Halladan’s grief seems so much deeper.”

Faelon looked at her, his eyes sharp. “You have not asked him?”

“I would not dare. I suspect it is a subject he would rather never discuss.”

“It is indeed. I am still surprised the story has not filtered through to you, or even that Arvain had not mentioned it.”

“Arvain nearly said something to me once, but what it might have been I have no idea.”

Faelon took his pipe away from his mouth and gave a heavy sigh. He stared at the flagstones in front of him for a moment or two.

“Halbarad’s death was hard for the three of them, indeed for all of us who knew him well. He was a fine and noble man, a credit to his race, a Dunadan through and through. Halladan and Arvain were there when he was injured; Arvain bore the standard and Halladan stood over his father, defending him to the last. All three were there when he died, surrounded by us, his kin. The three were united in grief – they had lost much, but they had each other.”

Faelon paused and looked straight ahead of him.

“And then Halladan and Arvain lost Hirvell too.”

Penny nodded. She had not expected to hear about Halbarad as well. She was struck dumb by emotion.

“Halladan…,” Faelon was looking at her now, “Halladan saw Hirvell die.”

Penny was confused for a moment. Faelon had just said all three brothers had seen Halbarad die, so how would Hirvell be any different? Then, as Faelon said nothing, waiting for her to perhaps work it out for herself, the penny dropped and she gasped.

Halbarad had been injured, died slowly defended by those who had loved him.

Hirvell had been brutally and almost instantly killed in the heat of battle.

She looked back across the courtyard at the figure of Halladan still walking slowly in the dark.

She had no words…

“I was not near them when Hirvell fell, and since Halladan has never spoken of it even to Arvain as far as I know, I do not know exactly what happened, though I and others can surmise much. All I know is that as the hordes ran screaming, chased in a rout, Halladan lay injured and Hirvell dead beside him.” He paused once more and his voice became desperately quiet. “We knew it was a Dunadan, but it was only because Halladan had seen him killed that we knew it was his brother.”

‘I did not need to hear that!’ Penny was screaming at herself inside her head, ‘I did NOT need to hear that! Why the hell could I not keep my big mouth shut?’

“Halladan insisted Arvain not see his brother like that.” Faelon was getting quieter, his tone grimmer with every word. “I am not sure Arvain has ever quite got over it, ever quite forgiven him, but if Halladan had not insisted, then I would have done.”

Penny could almost imagine it in her mind’s eye: Arvain roaring, raging, desperate to see what was left of Hirvell but held back and fighting those who held him, and Halladan injured, bleeding and white with shock.

She wished she had never asked.

The next day was market day once more, and that was something that would help Penny take her mind off things for a few hours. Since days out seemed to help, it had been decided that she and a few others would go for a ride afterwards if the weather stayed fine.

She eagerly joined the others at breakfast, looking forward to the day and to what she might buy. She had borrowed a basket from Milves’s infamous store cupboard under the stairs in their lodgings, and no sooner was breakfast done than she eagerly marched off down the hill with Lindir, Arvain, Halladan, Mireth, Celebdor and Eleniel.

Much like the previous week, they soon became slightly separated and strung out as each took an interest in particular things that had caught their eye. Celebdor and Mireth in particular seemed to be fond of wandering off hand in hand. Penny had not really come to any decision about the sort of thing she should be thinking of buying. It all depended on how much things were and how much she had. If she could only afford food, then she might consider buying something that might last a while like dried apricots, but she really hoped she had enough to buy something truly Gondorian that would serve as a keepsake if she left Gondor as she still hoped she might. That would be expensive, though.

“Ah, it is so hard to choose,” she muttered, pouring over some very finely worked bits of leather, wondering if a small hair piece, a simple strip of leather with a pointed stick through it, might be both cheap and suitably Gondorian.

“There is something in particular you wanted?” Halladan asked. “Please, allow me…” His hand moved to his sword belt and the small pouch hanging from it.

“No, no.” She smiled. “No, I intend to buy something for myself. I have a little coin.”

And she explained the situation of how she had come by it.

“The problem is,” she continued, “I have no idea how much I have. I would like to be able to buy some material for a dress or even a piece of craftwork, but I do not know if I have enough for such a thing.” She reached into the basket and produced a small leather pouch, similar to Halladan’s though not nearly as old or worn. She pulled at the neck and poured out a few gold coins into her palm. “See? Is this enough for a bolt of cloth or just a few apples?”

She was talking loudly and the leather merchant at the stall, seeing the coins, had suddenly got very animated and was now waving various expensive items at her encouragingly.

“Pen-ii!” Halladan quickly closed her palm, urging her to quickly put the money back in the pouch. He laughed. “Yes, I think you have more than enough there to buy a bolt of cloth. Perhaps even two.”

“I do!” She beamed, delighted.

“Yes, indeed. How many of those do you have?”

“Oh, only five.”

Halladan raised his eyebrows. “Five? Just how many of these vases and plates of yours did they take to market?”

“Not that many. Why…? Oh.” She had wondered if that would turn out to be the case. “They gave me far above the going rate, did they? That would not surprise me. It is very kind of them, but I feel rather dishonest…”

“Oh, I think if they gave you above the rate it would only have been by a small amount,” Halladan reassured her. “Elvish work sells at a pretty price, I can assure you. It is very sought after, and they quite deliberately do not sell many items at a time.”

“Mine was hardly of the same standard.”

“Well, they clearly thought well enough of it to give you a fair price,” Halladan said pointing to the basket where Penny had replaced the pouch. “Anyway, the point is that you can buy whatever item you had in mind without worrying, I think. Though if it was really very expensive…”

“No, only a small keepsake or one piece of material.”

“There is no need, though, Pen-ii. I would be happy to buy something if you wished for it. Better you save your money for when you might truly need it.”

“I thank you, Halladan, but no, this is… It is something I have to do, I want to do. It probably seems strange to you, but I am used to… well, I am used to fending for myself. I earned my own keep, lived by myself, did my own shopping. It has felt very strange for me to rely on others all this time.”

Halladan was looking at her curiously, though he smiled at her also. He understood, and yet it was a rather alien idea to him – a woman of Penny’s age voluntarily living by herself… Such a thing was unheard of in his society.

“Very well, if it means that much to you.” He paused. “But I insist on buying you some peaches, though. You enjoyed them so very much last week.”

He was deaf to Penny’s protests.

In the meantime she had to decide what she would buy, and even when some of the sellers were beginning to close up their stalls, she still had not made her decision. They had munched at fresh bread and fruit as they had wandered round the market and shops, and had decided they would not need lunch up at the halls.

They were slowly making their way through the market on their way to the stables on the far side of the First Circle. Just as they left the market place and started down the main street, Penny decided that, no, she would have that piece of fine red cloth she had been considering (and which Eleniel had agreed would suit her well), after all. She knew the amount to ask for and how to say it in Westron, since she had got that close to buying it an hour before that Eleniel had been coaching her in the necessary phrases.

“I will be right back,” she said hurriedly to Lindir, explaining where she was going.

The stall with the bolts of cloths was on the other side of the market square, set up outside the draper’s shop. It was easily visible from where they were since there was, near enough, a clear aisle all the way to it. Penny was only a few yards from it when she had to make way for a drayman coming past with several barrels. She stood to one side, between two stalls and near to the opening to a side alley.

Then, as the drayman passed her and just as Penny made to step out once more, she felt a sharp pull on the back of her skirts that made her stumble backwards into the mouth of the alley. Before she knew what was happening, and before she could think to shout out, a hand clamped over her mouth, an arm grabbed her round the waist and she was yanked backwards down the alley and out of public view.

The arm round her waist loosened its grip and slid upwards till it was pinned across her upper chest, one hand at her neck.

A voice hissed in Westron in her ear. “Scream, and I will cut you.”

She could feel the blade against her throat and did not need to guess what had just been said. Her mind was going in a thousand different directions at once, and at the same time she seemed frozen with fear.

The man was dragging her backwards, further down the alley which was very narrow and dark, and she was stumbling with him, aware only of his clammy hand on her mouth and the cold metal at her throat.

Her heart was thumping like mad.

She felt herself pulled sideways into an even danker and darker alleyway, and here he spun her round and pushed her up against the wall with one hand, the knife blade in his other hand glinting madly.

“Give me your money,” he snarled.

Penny’s throat was dry and she was so frightened she was in no fit state to try and translate from Westron. Her breathing was erratic, and all she could focus on was the knife and the look in this man’s eye.

‘Please, please, please, let him just want my money and nothing else!’

He made a grab for the basket, swapping the knife from one hand to the other to do so, and something in that action made Penny get a surge of foolish courage from somewhere.

She refused to let go.

“No!”

Instead of just stabbing her, the man pulled at the basket all the harder, and there was a tussle.

“Let go, you bastard!” she yelled, reverting to her native tongue without even realising it. “NO! LET GO! LET… GO!”

The man, still struggling with her, tried to jam his knife into his belt so he could use two hands on the handle, but it slipped out of his hand and onto the cobbles instead. Now desperate, the man, keeping one hand on the basket’s handle, shoved the other hand into the basket. Penny tried to scrabble at his wrist, acting on every stupid instinct in her body, but he pulled the money purse out nonetheless, wrenching the basket away from her at last with a snarl and then smacked her round the head with it.

She screamed as she raised her hands to protect herself and, as the basket clattered to the floor, she wondered if this was it and she was going to be beaten to death at the hands of some stinking mugger deep in the dank alleyways of Gondor.

But a second blow never came.

And before some of you self-combust over the chapter ending: rest assured the next chapter will be posted shortly. ;)