My sincere thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I promised you all a quick update (hence my risking the cliffie at the end of the previous one), and here it is.

Warning for this chapter: contains angst that some may find distressing.

Chapter 33 – “Fear and Loathing in Minas Tirith”

Mireth and Celebdor had walked on ahead, but Eleniel had stopped to look at some pottery, discussing its merits (or otherwise) with Lindir. Halladan was keeping half an eye on Penny while listening to Arvain relating a rather detailed joke he had heard the previous night. He glanced back across the market place just in time to see Penny duck out of the way of the drayman. Arvain came to the punchline, Halladan turned to him for a moment, grinning and chuckled heartily, and then glanced back across the square.

There was no sign of Penny anywhere.

Halladan immediately straightened himself, looking more keenly into the crowd. Perhaps it was his Dunadan blood, or simply his long years as a ranger and warrior, but his instincts instantly told him something was not right.

“Arvain? Can you see Pen-ii anywhere?”

Arvain did not even need to look at his brother’s concerned face to immediately scan the ever thinning crowds in the square – he had heard the note of alarm in his brother’s voice and knew that tone too well not to act on it instantly. Lindir had also heard him and turned around to them both, looking worried, if only because of the way they were acting.

“She cannot have gone far, Halladan,” Arvain was saying even as he realised that he also could see no trace of her.

But Halladan was not listening. He was already moving as quickly as he could back into the market place, down to the spot where he had last seen her. Arvain, again picking up his brother’s mood, exchanged a meaningful glance with Lindir and hurried after his brother.

“What is it, Lindir? What has happened?”

“Oh, nothing, Eleniel. Pen-ii has just wandered off somewhere. We will find her, do not fear.” Lindir tried to sound as breezy and unconcerned as possible. “Go and catch up Mireth and Celebdor. We will meet you at the stables.”

So saying, Lindir followed the brothers into the throng.

Halladan was about level with the entrance to the alleyway, the spot where he had last seen Penny, and Arvain had overtaken him, and had begun jogging up to the draper’s stall, looking left and right as he did so.

“NO! LET GO! LET… GO!”

Halladan heard it above the general hubbub, if only because he was more or less in front of the alleyway entrance, it was a voice he knew, Penny was shouting and doing so in English. Lindir had also caught it with his sensitive elvish hearing, even though he was a little way behind him. Halladan stopped, looking to his left in the direction it had come from, yelling for his brother as he did so. He saw the alleyway entrance and started towards it as Arvain rejoined him and Lindir hurried to catch them up.

“AAAIIIIIII!”

If there was moment of shock amongst the three, it was barely noticeable.

Instantly, Halladan was off at the nearest he could achieve to a run. It was more of a lollop, admittedly, with his bad leg barely making contact with the ground and his stick held in his hand more like a weapon than a support, but he only had a relatively short distance to cover. Arvain was right behind him and Lindir was running, shoving his way through the crowd to follow them. Several Gondorians in the street had heard the scream as well and were looking alarmed. Two men followed Arvain down the alleyway, Lindir pushing past them as they did so, and several others hurried across the square to the gate to fetch soldiers in case they were needed.

Halladan was going at a fair pace for someone with a gammy leg, but Arvain still overtook him and reached the side alley just one step ahead of him, only to be half winded as a man clasping Penny’s money sack crashed into him, throwing him up against the opposite wall. In the same moment Arvain glanced up the side alley to see Penny in an untidy heap on the floor, arms wrapped around her head. He yelled out her name even as he hit the wall, while at the same time there was a roar from his right. Acting on pure instinct, he ducked just as Halladan’s stick came whistling past his ear, landing square on the mugger’s temple.

The man was knocked reeling to the floor limbs flailing, cursing loudly and blood pouring from his head.

Halladan, glancing to his right and down the side alley, could make out Penny in an untidy heap on the floor, cowering, her arms still over her head.

“PEN-II!”

He hurriedly limped his way the few feet down the alley to reach her.

“Pen-ii!”

She was uncurling her arms, looking round her in shock.

“Halladan?”

He held out a hand, and she accepted it, shakily getting to her feet.

“Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”

“N-no.”

She blinked, bewildered, clearly overwhelmed. She looked on the verge of collapsing into tears and near threw herself at him, choking back a sob, clutching onto him. He held her, his face showing the mixture of emotions running though him right now, not least of which were fury, concern and a good amount of self-reproach.

Back in the main alleyway Lindir had arrived, his eyes blazing with rage and, as Arvain caught his breath, Lindir yanked the thief unceremoniously to his feet. The man stumbled slightly, one hand clutching his head and blood trickling out from between his fingers. Lindir quickly had the man’s other arm behind the man’s back in a half-nelson, holding the man’s shoulder firmly as he waited for the soldiers he knew were hurrying across the square towards them. He was snarling at the thief in Westron, saying something about it being extremely fortunate for him that Halladan had got to him first and that there were now too many witnesses around, otherwise…

The man whimpered and tried to shrink away from Lindir in fear but Lindir kept a firm grip on the man’s wrist and shoulder, hard enough that likely as not he left bruises.

Halladan glanced up as Arvain came down the side alley towards him. He noticed where Arvain’s gaze was directed and followed it to see the fallen knife lying on the stones. With a gasp he suddenly pulled back from Penny, holding her a little away from himself also.

“You are sure you are not injured?” He was scanning her up and down as he spoke, looking for any sign of blood in the gloom.

“No, I assure you.” She was recovering her composure, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen now the wave of relief had passed.

Arvain was now also pressing Penny and she was once again insisting she was quite unharmed, that the man had indeed scared her, but no more than that. She bent to pick up the basket and the few bits of fruit that had fallen with it.

“Let me,” Arvain said quickly, staying her with a touch on her arm and crouching down to grab the basket. As he did so, he reached for the blade, examining it. He raised an eyebrow and passed it up to Halladan. He too seemed surprised.

“Blunt,” Halladan said simply.

Penny unconsciously rubbed at her throat and breathed a sigh of relief. Halladan was looking at her.

“He held this at your throat!”

His eyes blazed and his voice was furious. He exchanged a glance with Arvain who got to his feet, his jaw tight.

“Bastard,” Arvain snarled.

Penny looked confused, this being a new word to her, but no one seemed like they were going to translate it any time soon.

Halladan pushed past Arvain back to the alleyway.

“This yours?!” he roared at the mugger, brandishing the knife by its blade.

“It is n-not sh-sharp,” the man stammered. “I never m-meant to do her any…”

“AND SHE WAS MEANT TO KNOW THAT, WAS SHE?!”

Halladan was incandescent. He flung the knife at the man’s feet where it bounced off his boots harmlessly.

Lindir, who had not loosed his hold on the man, now shoved him face first up against the wall with a snarl. The man cried out an oath.

“What is going on here, my lords?”

One of the soldiers from the gate had arrived, a colleague only a little way behind him.

The situation was quickly explained. The man had, by his own response to Halladan, admitted his crime, though the fact that he had been caught red-handed in possession of Penny’s purse would have been enough

Penny appeared in the entrance to the side alley, Arvain with her and holding the basket, his other hand resting between Penny’s shoulder blades. One of the soldiers spoke to her, asking her to verify what had been said and she just nodded dumbly, not wanting to look at the man still in Lindir’s grasp.

“He did not attempt to hurt you, my lady?”

“No, merely scared me and threw my basket at me. No more.”

Arvain looked down at the basket in his hand, glared up at the man and took a step forward, raising the basket across his body as he did so as if he would strike the thief with it.

“WHY YOU…!”

Halladan stopped him, one hand against his brother’s chest.

The thief was led away by the soldiers who, it has to be said, were none too gentle with him. The Gondorians followed on after asking if they could assist in any way. Lindir thanked them and said there was no need.

Lindir stepped forward to Penny, gently taking hold of her upper arm.

“I am fine,” she said even before he could ask. She forced a smile. “Really. A little shaken, perhaps, but none the worse for that. It all happened very fast. He ran, he did not stay to hurt me – he ran.” The relief in her voice was unmistakeable and all three could only imagine what she must have feared.

“This is yours, I believe.” Lindir held out the purse.

She shook her head. “Would one of you carry it for me?” she asked quietly.

Halladan held out his hand for it. He took it and tied it onto his sword belt alongside his own purse.

There was a hiatus, all three males looking at Penny rather anxiously, seemingly unsure as to what to say.

“Look, I am safe, I am uninjured, and you all rushed to my aid and I cannot thank you enough…”

“No, Pen-ii,” Lindir said quietly. “We should have been with you, this should never have happened.”

Arvain and Halladan said nothing, but their expressions showed they were as angry with themselves as anything.

“What? No! I go shopping by myself all the time! ... I mean, I did…” She trailed off.

“She was only going a short distance, Lindir,” Arvain said.

“You know as well as I there have been instances of thievery in the markets of late,” Halladan replied. “For all that Aragorn has improved things, there are still some who…”

“Pen-ii?” Mireth was running down the alleyway to them, Eleniel and Celebdor behind her. “Pen-ii? What happened? We saw you all running this way, and then soldiers and a man being dragged off…”

“I am fine! Really! Halladan, Arvain and Lindir here came to my rescue. The man tried to take my money, that is all.”

Mireth and Eleniel gasped, Celebdor, behind them looked dark.

The two ellith immediately started fussing over Penny, asking her umpteen questions, insisting they call off the afternoon out, that she had to go back up to their lodgings to rest, that she was no doubt in shock. Penny was looking harassed and strained.

“No, please, do not cancel our plans, I would like… But I am fine, I tell you… Eleniel, you are not listening to me…”

“I see no reason for us to change our plans if Pen-ii feels she can manage it,” Lindir cut in.

“I agree,” Halladan said firmly.

And before the ellith could object, the four males marched up the alleyway, bundling a grateful Penny with them.

The last thing Penny wanted was a fuss made. She was feeling shaken and not at all herself, but the idea of going up to the Citadel, where no doubt the news would be round the court within ten minutes and everyone would be asking if she was alright and getting her to go over it all again and again, was the last thing she wanted right now.

Eleniel held her hand as they walked to the stables. Mireth stopped a passing baker’s boy and got him, for a coin that made his eyes stick out on stalks, to take their shopping up to the Citadel for them. She whispered something to Celebdor and hurried off with him into the market crowd. When they rejoined them all at the stables they were looking rather pleased with themselves.

Penny was subdued as her mare was brought out to her and insisted on saddling her up herself since it would, frankly, give her something else to think about.

Mireth and Eleniel were concerned, though, and much as they tried they could not help asking if Penny was sure she was well every few minutes, and whether this outing was really such a good idea, even as they rode out of the gates. None of which helped to make Penny more talkative or less subdued in the least. Not that she blamed them – they were her friends and were worried she had been in such a horrible situation. However, after they had gone no more than half a mile or so from the city, Lindir did become a little sharp with them both, which the ellith clearly felt was unnecessary and protested.

After that Penny hung back to let the ellith catch up with Celebdor and Arvain at the front.

Halladan came alongside her.

“I find a good hard gallop helps me to take my mind away from whatever may be troubling it for a while,” he said quietly. “How does that sound?”

“Thank you, Halladan,” Penny replied, breathing a huge sigh of relief. It sounded ideal.

Halladan turned his horse slightly, taking it off the path and onto the meadow. He called out to the others. “We are going to exercise our horses. We will catch up with you later.”

“Fair enough,” Celebdor responded even as Penny also turned her mare to follow Halladan’s.

“But…” Eleniel started.

“We will see you later, brother!” Arvain shouted and lifted his hand.

Halladan said a word to his horse and it started off at a cracking pace.

“Pen-ii…?” Mireth said, somewhat startled. Lindir told her to not fuss.

Penny rode off into the distance after Halladan.

It was the best thing anyone could have suggested as far as Penny was concerned. No possibility of thinking or chatter, just riding flat out, fast and furious, her hair whipping back with the speed of it, the countryside thundering past her: it was glorious.

They went quite some way, not letting up the pace, dodging round copses and just thundering on and on.

After a while, Halladan slowed. He was grinning as he looked at her.

“Better?”

“Much!”

She matched his grin with her own.

They had reached a meadow that sloped gently down to a stream. Far behind them the dark, tall walls of the city loomed out of the mountainside, but Penny was trying not to think about it for the time being.

“This is a pretty spot. Can we stop?”

“Of course.” Halladan replied. “It would do well to rest the horses a little anyway.”

So they dismounted and wandered down to the side of the stream. Penny knelt and cupped some water in her hands, splashing her face and wiping her neck. She stared into the water. She still could not quite believe what had happened to her, but being here, surrounded by something entirely different to that dank, stinking alley, helped hugely. It was over, it was past. She was safe, and it seemed clear the man had never intended to hurt her, only scare her into giving him her money. She was fine. Really, she was FINE.

“Pen-ii?”

“What? Oh, forgive me.” She forced a weak smile. “Lost in my thoughts.”

He nodded. He was sitting on the grass, leaning on one hand and one knee bent with the wrist of his other arm resting on it.

“It is good to be out of the city,” she continued. She glanced back in the direction of it. “And not just because of…”

His brow furrowed in concern and she decided to change the subject.

“I lived in a city.”

“Indeed? Like Minas Tirith?”

“A little, but much, much bigger.”

Halladan seemed surprised.

“It is strange to be surrounded by stone again after so long in the countryside. It is the first time since I arrived here…” She paused. “It is good to be out of the city, that is all.”

“The city reminds you of home?”

She nodded, suddenly looking quite sad. “In many ways. I am not a ‘country girl’. Stone buildings and roads… it is what I am used to, it is what I grew up with, and yet… everything is so very different. It is similar but not similar at the same time and that just makes it all the harder.” She gave a rueful smile. “It is not only that, of course. There is all the aftermath of the War which is hard to get used to, and not only because I have never experienced such a thing before.”

“I can understand it must be difficult for you.”

They fell into silence, the only sound a bird singing in a nearby tree at the water’s edge.

“It will be hard for you to stay here if the mere buildings make you feel this way,” Halladan said at last.

“I do not want to stay.”

She had told no one this, or not as clearly stated as this. The closest she had come to it was her conversation with Erestor over a week before.

“No?” If he was surprised he did not show it.

“No,” she shook her head. “I have never liked the idea. I worried about it all the way here and now that I am here, well…” She sighed.

“Well, some like Sidhwen have not made it easy for you.”

“It is not only that, Halladan. I have nothing in common with these people. I have difficulty communicating, I find their way of life incomprehensible at times… In some ways Sidhwen was right, I probably am the equivalent of a peasant to her. I certainly feel more at home with the likes of Milves than I do with her and her breed.”

“Do not ever say things like that,” Halladan said with feeling. “Do not compare yourself to the likes of her and consider yourself beneath her.”

“I do not, I assure you. I think Milves is worth ten of Sidhwen any day.”

He laughed then. “And I would agree with you wholeheartedly, Pen-ii, as would many others, I do not doubt!”

“I have more in common with elves than I do with the mortals I have met. In Rohan I was treated with hostility and suspicion, and in some ways it has occurred here in Gondor once more, though it has been more subtle. I am so very strange to them all, so very different.”

“Perhaps. You are unlearned in their ways, but that is possibly no bad thing if Sidhwen is an example of what those who follow such ways come to. So do you feel you have more in common with elves than with all the mortals you have met? You have nothing in common with the Dunedain, then?” There was the hint of a smirk on his face.

“What? Oh, no! I only meant…”

He laughed. “I know, I know. And you are right – we Dunedain are a race apart from most human races. We speak Sindarin, we associate with the elves, and our lineage and heritage set us at one remove. Like you, there are times when I feel Gondor is a foreign country to me, its people also, even though it is a link to my past, and its King is my King and my kinsman.”

“You are also a warrior, and you have fought here side by side with Gondorians and Rohirrim. That much you share. There are also, I do not doubt, certain aspects of society you would recognise here that are utterly strange to me… or perhaps not ‘strange’ so much as ‘old-fashioned’ where I come from.”

“Ah, I see. So ‘Old Fiery Pen-ii’ would have been frowned upon in your society several generations before your own?”

“Yes,” she replied, and then she was laughing as she asked, “He told you he called me that?”

“But of course!” He chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, I think that was the first indication we had, my brothers and I, that Father had met someone truly extraordinary. No one, but no one who knew my father, or even strangers that met him unawares, would have dared speak to him in such a manner.”

“Ai, do not say such things, Halladan!” She hung her head in her hands with a wince and a smile. “You have no idea how many times I apologised to him after I realised who and what he was.”

Their soft laughter slowly died away and for several minutes the only sound was the trickle of the water.

“You must miss him terribly,” Pen-ii said quietly at last.

“Yes.” He nodded, not looking at her. “Yes, I do.”

There was a pause.

“I miss my family too.”

It was the first time she had said it out loud. Galadriel had referred to it, but otherwise Penny tried not to think about them too much – it hurt too much to do so. Since arriving in Minas Tirith, though, with that weird, vague sense of familiarity to the place, it had been hard to ignore.

“Even my brother.”

“‘Even’? You did not get on?”

“No. Never. ‘Like chalk and cheese’ as we would say in my tongue. We loathe each other. We can barely meet without an argument.”

“You do not see your family regularly?”

“What? No!” She looked at him as if he were insane. “They would drive me crazy! I left home as soon as I could! Even then I still have my mother fussing after me and worrying…”

“Well, she is your mother. It is what mothers do, is it not?”

“Halladan, believe me, there is ‘mothering’ and there is ‘mothering,’ and my mother has no idea about when to leave well enough alone.”

“Oh?” He was grinning once more, curious and strangely pleased to hear her talking about her family in this way.

“‘You need to find a nice man, Penny. Ooh, I know just the chap, Penny – his mother is the second cousin of a lady I met in the fish shop last week…’”

Halladan roared with laughter.

“You think I am joking?”

“Every family has its moments.”

“Even yours?”

“Oh, especially mine. Can you imagine four males trying to live under one roof? We had blazing rows on occasion. Though we always had a respect for Father. There was a line you never crossed with him, though Hirvell would often get dangerously close. Ai, he was always the hot-tempered one. Would get into towering rages over nothing. Arvain was good at needling him, and when they were younger…” He shook his head. “Arvain would just keep on at him until he would explode. He would always regret it afterwards. Would carve him something or make him some toy later to make up for it. They were always close.”

“And you were not?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. But as the eldest… Well, it was different, that is all.”

She remembered what Lindir had said about Halladan even as a young teenager seeing himself as a helper to his father, the strong one, the one who had to help look out for his kid brothers. She smiled.

“What are you smiling about?”

“It is the first time you have spoken of him to me. Hirvell, I mean.” She looked at him. “I am glad.”

A shadow passed over Halladan’s expression, not sadness so much as a melancholy. Penny immediately regretted having pointed it out - it was the wrong thing to have done. Halladan turned away slightly, looking out somewhere to his right and toward the trees on the other side of the stream.

Penny decided to try and break the mood.

“Of course, I always wished I had a brother I could get on with,” she said brightly. “You would have thought with just me, him and my mother it would have brought us closer, but no. He was always the baby, the pampered one, my mother thought he could do no wrong and he would play on it all the time…”

She faltered.

She did miss him, in spite of it all.

It was like a death. If she was indeed stuck here forever, then… was this grief? She had not thought of it in those terms before. She had only hoped she would never go home, back to a life that, frankly, for all this world’s hardships and horrors, could not compare, but now… now she realised if that happened, she would never see them again.

She tried to focus on something else. The place where they were sitting was lovely. The meadow flowers, the birds in the trees…

“That is a rather pretty bird,” she said. “What is it called, do you know?”

There was no reply.

“Halladan?”

She turned to him and immediately knew something was wrong.

Halladan was pale. He had been looking at the trees across the bank when he had gasped, as if it had only just then occurred to him that they seemed familiar. Then, as he glanced around him, it was as if he was seeing where they actually were for the first time: the stream, the trees, the low slope…

“We should not have come here,” he murmured. He was looking worried and it was making Penny nervous.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

Halladan was swallowing hard, still looking round himself, but now also hurriedly getting to his feet.

“We need to leave,” he said, his tone urgent. “Now!”

“But why?” She was getting panicky, standing as well, following his lead.

“Just…”

And then he stopped, his breathing suddenly quickening, his gaze unfocused.

“Go!” he rasped.

She just looked at him, bewildered and getting frightened.

“GO! NOW! GET TO THE HORSES!”

He had shouted, yes, but it had been less an angry order, more a desperate, urgent plea. He had stumbled and turned away from her a few steps as he had spoken too, dropping his stick as he did so.

Penny stood frozen to the spot, uncertain of what was happening or what she should do. It was all happening so quickly, and entirely out of the blue. She glanced around but could see no one near them, no approaching danger, and Halladan did not exactly seem to be behaving as if that was the problem…

Was he in pain? Was he having an attack of some kind? He was breathing hard, almost choking back sobs or so it sounded like, both hands clutching his head as if fighting some inner turmoil.

Then, suddenly, his head seemed to almost snap upright, at the same time he was turning round a little, his eyes wide with fear and alarm.

And yet there was something about him that…

“NO!” he roared, and in that next instant there was the ‘schlack’ of his sword being drawn. He held the pommel with both hands, looking wild, defensive, backing slightly and circling slowly. His face was fierce and furious.

Penny stared at him in horror. He was looking at something that patently was not there.

He was muttering, snarling, using words Penny had never heard before but she could guess were ones that would make Erestor’s hair stand on end if she ever repeated them. She could make out ‘vile’ and ‘evil butchers’ and ‘slay you like dogs’ and various other things, and her heart was hammering against her ribs and she did not know whether to run like the wind or speak to him or…

No, if she ran, he might mistake her for an orc.

His voice was getting louder now, rising, more desperate, more furious.

They would never take him alive, did they hear him! Never! He would go down fighting! They would have to bleed him dry before they brought him down, just like they did to…!

And suddenly he was roaring, screaming in rage and pain, lashing out blindly at thin air.

“HIRVELL! NO! NO!”

If Penny had tears on her cheeks at that point she did not notice. She could not let this continue and had no idea what was the right thing to do, but she refused to just stand there and let this happen.

“Halladan!”

She was so scared she could hardly get his name out, and when he spun round to her, his sword aimed right at her, his gaze unseeing and clearly not recognising her, she had to fight every instinct in her body not to run. She was trembling as she held up one hand, hardly daring to breathe.

“Halladan? It is me… Penny… Can you hear me?”

And she knew what she was doing was probably incredibly stupid but it was all she could think of and she could not do nothing.

Halladan had not advanced on her. He still held the sword high in her direction, though; was still looking at her in that horribly unfamiliar, unfocused way: suspicious, unsure…

“Halladan, whatever you can see… It is not true. It is not there.”

He was still glaring at her, still not moving.

“The War is over. There is no battle. Just a meadow and flowers and… Can you hear the birds? You can hear the birds, can you not? Listen to the bird song, Halladan…”

His breathing was still ragged, but she could see him faltering slightly, his sword lowering a little.

“There can be no battle if I am here, if birds are singing. I know you can see things, but they are not true… none of it… it is past, Halladan, long past…”

He was shaking. She could see the sword was wobbling ever so slightly.

There was a horribly long pause.

Slowly the sword got lower and lower till eventually one hand fell away from it and the other still held it but with the tip of the blade now resting on the ground. All the while, he was not looking at her but instead was glancing anxiously down, left, right, brows furrowed as if trying to work out how he could hear birdsong and yet still see… still hear…

Then the sword fell, and a moment later he sank to his knees.

She had never seen a man look more broken in her life.

She took a few steps towards him, even as he sank back onto his haunches and bowed his head and brought his hands to his face. Emboldened, she slowly, gently stepped up to him, crouched down beside him and laid one hand on his shoulder.

“Halladan?”

He was still shaking, quiet sobs being wrenched from his body.

“Please,” he croaked thickly, not looking up or removing his hands from his face, “Please… let me alone…”

She understood.

She got up slowly and quietly walked away, choking back her own tears. She walked up the slight slope to the horses, patting and quietening them in case they needed reassuring.

She kept glancing back at Halladan, and for a very long time he did not move. Only when at last she noticed he had straightened and was kneeling upright, staring straight ahead at nothing did she risk making her presence known once more.

“Halladan?”

Even as she took a few steps down the slope towards him, she could see him start as if roused from a reverie, clear his throat, and hurriedly get to his feet, making a bit of a show of brushing bits of loose grass from his clothes as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

It was as he reached for his stick that he noticed the sword: out of its scabbard and still lying on the grass slightly in front of him. He stared at it in shock for several moments then bent down to pick it up, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked back at Penny even as she neared him. The expression on his face made it clear he was horrified, that he had little memory of what had occurred and could only guess what might have actually happened. He seemed at a loss for words.

“I-I… Pen-ii, I…”

“Nothing happened,” she said quickly. “You did not draw your sword on me.”

He said nothing, just kept staring at her, appalled.

“You already had your sword drawn…”

“Do not lie to me, Pen-ii!”

“I am not! I swear to you!”

He looked keenly at her for a moment, as if gauging the truth of what she was saying.

“Did I threaten you?”

“N-no,” she said uncertainly.

“Did I recognise you? Lower my sword instantly?”

“Of course.”

There was a beat.

“Now I know you are lying. I can see it in your face.”

A spasm seemed to twist his face, though whether of rage or distress she could not tell. Perhaps it was both.

“I thought I had told you to get to the horses,” he said brusquely. He suddenly bent to get his stick as he spoke, not even looking at her but instead turning to walk up the slope to his stallion.

That was it?! That was all he was going to say?!

Penny did not for a moment think she had been the one to pull him out of whatever flashback he had been having. It may be some of her words had got through to him, helped a little, though just as possibly not and no doubt he would have come out of it at pretty much the same time anyway, but even so…!

She followed him back up the slope. He was rummaging in a sac that hung off his saddle, pulling out a piece of cloth and carefully wiping the blade clean before sheathing it.

“Halladan…”

He turned his head round sharply to look at her at last. The mask was up, his expression determined.

“I do not want to talk about it, is that clear?”

“But…!”

“No!”

“Halladan!” She was getting angry now, and she could see he was too, but bugger that, this was serious. “What happened just now…”

“You never listen, do you, Pen-ii!”

“Not when it is something as serious as this, no, Halladan, I do not!”

He had his hands resting on the saddle, almost as if he had half a mind to just get on the horse and ride back to the city, forget any of it had happened.

“Pen-ii,” he insisted through gritted teeth, “I would rather we never mentioned this again…”

No bloody way, José! Not on your life!

“How often has this happened?”

Halladan seemed completely taken aback by the question. He blinked at her, confused.

“I take it this is not the first time, given you realised what was coming, that you tried to if not warn me then get me out of the way, yes?”

“How did you…?”

“Oh, please, Halladan, I am not a complete fool! You are quiet, withdrawn, drinking hard, even your brother is concerned for you… Oh, do not look so surprised, I am sure he must have said something to you before now!”

“Arvain worries over much.” Halladan’s voice was quiet and strained. He looked away from her.

“And he has every right to worry, Halladan! Not only that but he loves you dearly. He has lost one brother. I am sure he has no desire to lose a second.”

“Pen-ii…”

Halladan’s attention seemed entirely focused on the saddle, and his tone made it clear he did not want to continue this conversation any further.

“Do you sleep at night?”

“What!”

“Do you sleep? Are you able to sleep? These…” she struggled to find a Sindarin expression that would fit, “these… waking dreams, where you see the battles you fought… Do they disturb your sleep as well?”

Halladan was staring at her open mouthed. She just looked back at him sadly.

“Halladan, you need to talk to someone,” she said quietly.

“You think I am the only one, Pen-ii?” His voice was harsh. “That I am the only one who has lost? The only who saw people die? I have been in battle before… How do you think it makes me feel to know I am this undone by it… where I cannot even… when I even draw a sword on…” He was struggling to maintain his composure, his grip on the saddle tighter than ever.

“You will not be another Hiluin.”

“And you know that for a fact, do you?”

She had no answer for him and long, silent seconds stretched between them.

“Exactly,” he said savagely.

He turned back to his horse, looking like he would dearly love to hit something right about now. Instead he near threw himself up into the saddle.

“Halladan…”

“NO, PEN-II! I will not speak of this! Do not mention it to me ever again! I am deeply ashamed you had to witness this, and for that I apologise. I am deeply ashamed I drew my sword on you… Do NOT argue the point, Pen-ii, it is what happened, and I will never forgive myself for it. Never, do you hear me? You should have left me as I asked you to.”

“Leave you? Leave you to be tormented by ghosts and dreams? No, Halladan! Not you, not anyone! You could not see yourself …” She could feel the tears coming once more at the memory of him crying out for his brother.

“I DO NOT NEED YOUR PITY!”

He glared at her for a moment, then turned his horse and rode off. Penny stared after him, shocked.

Of all the pig-headed, stubborn, obstinate…!

Presumably she was meant to obediently follow him and pretend none of this had ever happened. She was seriously tempted to just stand there, cross her arms and point blank refuse to get on her horse. See how he liked them apples!

Halladan, who was only going at a walking pace, had not turned round nor showed any signs of stopping.

Penny wavered.

“Argh! Men!”

Various expletives were muttered under her breath as she went over to her mare, climbed in the saddle and went off after him.

It did not take long to catch up with him.

“You are a stubborn man, Halladan,” she fumed.

She glanced sideways at him. His gaze was firmly fixed ahead of him, but she could see his jaw was tight.

“I realise you would prefer I had never been a witness to what happened just now, but I was, it happened, and if I am honest, I am glad. Does anyone else know this is happening to you?”

Stony silence.

“Halladan, let me say my piece and then, I promise you, I will never mention it again if you wish. I will also give you my word, here and now, that if you do not want me to mention this to anyone else, I will not do so even though I can think of several people who could, indeed probably should be told and who could help you.”

Halladan drew in a deep, loud breath through his nose as if trying to control his temper at that point.

“As I said, you have my word that for as long as you wish me to remain silent, I will do so. But I want to say something first. After that I will shut up, I promise. We have a long ride back to the city. If you do not let me speak now, then I will hound you until you let me do so, so you might as well get it over with.”

She waited, and since there was no response she carried on.

“I know I am very ignorant about many things which to you and everyone else seem basic if not the normal way of life, but I am not a stupid woman, Halladan. I learnt, I read while I was young. We called it ‘school’ in my tongue and I studied history, so I know a little about war and what it does to a man, or can do.”

The tension and fury emanating from Halladan were palpable, but Penny was damned if she was going to shut up: it needed saying, whether he liked it or not.

“There was a great war around seventy years before I was born. A terrible war. They thought it would be the war to end all wars; it was not, of course, since there was an even greater one soon after it, but the point is that in that war the healers amongst my people first started to document that men were coming back from war utterly changed. Because you see, that war was very different from any previously. The number of men killed, the manner in which they were killed was like nothing that had come before it. At first the healers and the ones in charge of the armies could not understand what it was, and it was only long years afterwards that the truth was accepted. The horror those men went through…it was like nothing anyone had known before, and it was relentless, no obvious means to bring an end to it all, no clear point or purpose behind many of the battles and the deaths. It sent some of the soldiers mad, literally mad on the battlefield. They did not know where they were or what they were doing. They were killed for cowardice whereas in fact they had lost their minds.”

She glanced at him. His face was still set, but his head was bowed a little and his demeanour had relaxed a little, almost imperceptibly. He was listening.

“Not all of them. Most managed to retain enough sanity to get home, but many were very ill, in their heads, with the shock, because of what they had seen and lived through. They suffered great torment afterwards – nightmares, waking dreams, reliving all they had been through. There is only so much a man can take. From that point on, though as I say it did take time to understand it, it became known and accepted that this was an inevitable consequence of war for many soldiers and there were countless examples from later wars of it happening time and again. I may not know much, Halladan, but I do know that what you are experiencing has been felt by countless soldiers.”

There was a soft snort.

“I mean it. Nor is there any shame in this. It is nothing to do with bravery, or strength… I know you know men who have changed since the War, and it may be you do not realise it, but they are probably suffering just as much as you. It may be they do not talk about the extent of it, just as you have not talked to anyone of what you are going through, but there will be many who have waking nightmares, feel utterly changed and unable to deal with life. For all I know, perhaps ellyn are just as affected by war. It would not surprise me in the least if many of them have been through this as well, though without asking I could not know for sure. You cannot ignore this, Halladan. You cannot pretend it is not happening. If you never let this out, it will turn to poison. It is too much, the pain too great for you to deal with by yourself.”

There was no reply.

“You should talk… to someone you trust implicitly, to someone whose judgement you trust, someone who knows you, who has seen battle just as you have. There are many, many that you know who would understand, Halladan, who may have even gone through this themselves, may still be going through it. You have gifted healers who have known you since a child, Halladan: Mithrandir, Elrond… Aragorn! You have to let them help you.”

That grim, resolute and stony expression was back on his face. Penny knew she was talking to a brick wall once more.

“There is no shame in asking for help, Halladan! This is as much an injury of the War as your leg! There is no shame in finally accepting that, as strong and resilient and capable as you are, even you have too great a burden to bear! The men I was talking about, they saw their friends, their brothers in arms killed – how much worse when it is family, loved ones…”

“Are you done?”

She glared at him but realised she had probably cut too near the bone just then.

“Yes, I am finished. Forgive me, Halladan. I do not doubt you have no wish to hear any of this, and it does not please me to say these things or to cause you further pain, but it has to be said, and I hope one day you may thank me for it. I say all this to explain I am not just inventing this from thin air, but basing it on some prior knowledge of my own. But, yes, I am done. However, I have one last thing I would ask of you. I want you to promise me something, to give me your word. I know I cannot get you to promise me that you will talk to someone, but will you at least consider it?”

“No.” The answer was quick, decisive, as if he had almost expected her to ask and had his answer ready.

“Halladan, what harm is there in at least thinking about it? Promise me you will think about it, even if you decide not to act upon it? Please.”

There was silence.

“Halladan! I mean it!”

“Very well,” he snapped, clearly exasperated, “if it will keep you quiet!”

“You swear it?”

“I give you my word I will consider it.”

Penny smiled softly. That was enough. Even if she knew perfectly well by ‘I will consider it’ he meant ‘I will consider it and reject it out of hand almost instantly’, the point was she had managed to lodge the seed of an idea in his head and hopefully one day…

They rode on in silence. After a few minutes, she glanced at him to find he was looking at her.

“What?”

“And you call me stubborn?”

He did not smile, but his face was not as angry or severe as she had feared it might be. It was almost as if he was trying to break the atmosphere a little. She smiled and shrugged apologetically. He shook his head at her, and then turned to look ahead once more.

Author's Note:

I think it only correct to point out that PTSD does not usually manifest itself with animated flashbacks. It can happen, but it is rare. Most commonly the sufferer slips into an alternate reality, with the flashback playing on a loop in front of them and seemingly in a state of something like catatonia to those around them. Halladan's flashbacks, when he has them, are usually like this. I am saying this thanks to a heartfelt and detailed review left by someone who is a PTSD sufferer. I feel it only fair to explain my process behind this scene, but shall not leave a giant author's note here. You can find the review and my reponse to it in the reviews to this chapter here on SoA.