Chapter 34 - “Us And Them”

Halladan had clearly taken Penny at her word when she had promised she would not mention it again, and though they rode in silence at first for quite some time, eventually the atmosphere between them eased a little. He began to point out flowers and plants to her, telling her if they were native to Gondor or if he knew them from back home, what properties (if any) they may have for healing or as a herb and what their names were in both Sindarin and Westron. Soon it was almost as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

Almost.

As they neared the city, they spotted a familiar group seated on the grass near the main thoroughfare, their horses grazing nearby.

“Ah, there you are!” Arvain called out to them. “Had a good ride?”

Halladan smiled and nodded and Penny followed his lead. She wondered how used he had got to lying, covering up or explaining away such incidents as the one she had just witnessed. She also wondered just how much those who knew him well realised how much he was struggling to cope and decided she would not be surprised if they could guess nearer than Halladan realised or was prepared to admit.

Mireth opened her mouth to say something, but Celebdor nudged her and she stayed silent. Penny guessed she had no doubt been about to ask how she was faring. It made her momentarily forget the past couple of hours and remember her own experience – up till now completely forgotten. She glanced a little nervously at the city walls, now looming nearby, as the others mounted their horses and then they slowly all set off together.

If anyone noticed that she seemed tense, they did not comment. If anything the chatter grew louder and the laughter increased as they came up to the gateway and entered the square. Indeed everyone seemed to be directing most of their chatter and jokes at Penny directly, so she was having to concentrate on following at least three different conversations at once and had little time to focus on where she was or what had so recently taken place there.

They did not stop at the First Circle stables but quite deliberately rode the horses up to the Sixth Circle so as to get through and away from the square as fast as possible. Halladan and Arvain made a point of riding between Penny and the side of the square with the alleyway where it had all occurred.

Halladan caught her glancing in its direction, though.

She forced a smile at him, but it was clear she was a little unnerved.

He smiled reassuringly back at her even as he called to Celebdor to tell Penny about the time they had gone riding when he was a boy and met wild boar in the woods. Celebdor laughed loudly and told Penny she would find this highly entertaining and Penny, distracted, turned to him with a grin. The next thing she knew they were out of the square and on their way up towards the Second Circle.

By the time they were passing through the gate to the Second Circle, Celebdor was laughing about how Halladan had been so terrified by the boar he had come across that Celebdor had found him up a tree with the boar at the base of the trunk.

“But I thought boar could be quite aggressive,” Penny was saying.

“Exactly so, Pen-ii!” Halladan replied. “See, Celebdor? And I was only a boy too!”

“You are the one who asked me to tell this story, Halladan, so allow me to relate it in my own fashion.”

Penny grinned and chuckled at Halladan. She could guess well enough why he had suddenly called for this story at that moment, even if it was at his own expense, indeed why they had all become so animated and desperate to distract her as they crossed the square. It had been most kind and thoughtful of them all.

“Ah, but I notice you failed to mention the moment when your horse shied, scared by the boar, and you slid off your horse’s rump and landed in the mud,” Lindir pointed out. “I heard it from good authority, namely Halbarad, that Halladan here laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the tree.”

“That is true,” Halladan said, beaming.

“Well, it was a rather large and demented boar, I will have you know,” Celebdor said, with feeling.

“But you were making fun of Halladan for having run from it just now!”

“I am an ellon, Pen-ii, I am allowed to be inconsistent in my storytelling if I so choose. It is one thing for a horse to be startled. It is another for a boy who, frankly, should know better, to run like frightened rabbit.”

The others laughed. Celebdor had lost the argument, and he knew it.

“Oh, be quiet,” he muttered.

“You should have seen him. Head to toe covered in mud,” Halladan was laughing at the memory, “I think that boar was killed as much over having ruined Celebdor’s tunic and dirtied his hair as for having chased me up a tree!”

Penny laughed loud as Arvain then started doing impressions of a distraught Celebdor pawing at his muddied hair.

Word had travelled ahead of them, of course. After all, how many ‘foreign women in the company of elves and Dunedain’ were there in Minas Tirith? So the moment word had come from the soldiers who had arrested the thief, everyone had guessed who his victim (and her rescuers) had been.

As soon as they came up from the gate to the Seventh Circle, they were spotted by a few people in the courtyard who called their names and came rushing over asking how Penny was, what had happened, why they had not come straight up to the Citadel and the like. Penny made her excuses and left as hurriedly as she could, Mireth and Eleniel going with her and leaving the males to field questions as to all that had gone on.

“Ai, I think I shall stay here in our chambers for the rest of the day,” Penny groaned as they walked through into the little room the three shared. “After all, if that reception is any indication of…”

She stopped, staring at her cot.

There, folded neatly at the foot of it, was a bolt of the red cloth she had been on her way to buy. She turned back to the two ellith, astonished. Mireth was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, we did not want you to miss out just because…”

“That is where you and Celebdor disappeared off to!” Eleniel laughed. “I wondered why you looked so very pleased with yourselves!”

Penny sat on her bed, taking the cloth in her hands. She was so touched by their gesture. It was a very thoughtful and generous thing for them to have done. At the same time it made her painfully aware that she had utterly failed to buy something for herself by herself as she had planned and looked forward to. She knew better than to offer to reimburse Mireth or Celebdor – they would be hurt and very likely insulted as well if she tried. If she had not been so ridiculous and indecisive, she scolded herself, if she had just gone ahead and bought it when she had first considered it, then none of it would have happened.

Then she thought of Halladan. She had to admit that, however alarming whatever had happened to her might have been, it paled in comparison with what he had been through, what he was still going through.

She was beginning to loathe this city: the bitches in the court, the rules and etiquette of Gondorian society that made her feel quite constrained at times, muggers in dark alleys, the evidence of war all round in the city and on the Pelennor, soldiers fighting to keep their sanity with what they had witnessed…

The sooner she could leave Gondor the better as far as she was concerned. But then, was Imladris really an option? How long would Elrond’s sons and Celeborn stay there?

“Pen-ii? Did I do the wrong thing?”

“What? Oh, no! No, not at all, Mireth, I am sorry.” She smiled. “Thank you. I am… very touched, truly, it was most kind of you to do this.” She laid the cloth to one side, stood to warmly embrace her friend.

That evening it was hard to avoid people coming up to her and saying they had heard what had happened, how dreadful it was and how fortunate she had not been harmed and that the others had been around to rescue her. Penny did make the point the man had been caught as he ran away, but to little avail.

An hour or two after the meal, Halladan and Arvain came to get her, telling her Aragorn had asked that she join them all at a gathering away from the general hubbub. Penny had been invited to such gatherings once or twice before, but never stayed long or enjoyed them overly much. For all there were people she knew there she would often get cornered by a few overbearing nobles intent on winning her favour so she could then put in a good word for them with the King or Queen.

This, however, turned out to indeed be a small affair and she knew everyone there, if not intimately, then relatively well. Elladan and Elrohir were sharing a joke with Gandalf and Legolas. Gimli was refilling Celeborn’s cup for him while regaling him with tales of battle and derring-do of his ancestors that Celeborn was matching nearly point for point, much to Galadriel’s amusement. Lindir and Faelon had joined Penny and the brothers as they had crossed the square and immediately fell into conversation with several other Dunedain standing near the door. Arwen and Elrond smiled and nodded at Penny as she entered the room, and she could just see Erestor and Glorfindel deep in conversation with Aragorn and Faramir. Sam and Frodo had just left, apparently. Pippin was on duty and so nowhere to be seen and Merry was back in the Hall singing a rather long and involved tale of Brandybucks, ale and japes that had his audience agog and rolling in the aisles. No doubt he would be along later if his adoring public could spare him.

Aragorn, spotting her, called her over to him and, with Faramir beside him, he formally apologised to her on behalf of the city.

“Rest assured the thief has been severely dealt with.”

Penny wondered what exactly that might mean.

“He may not have harmed you or even intended to do so, but he scared you very badly and certainly meant to do that. I will not have such people in my city.”

She thanked him and then asked after Hiluin and his wife.

Aragorn looked dark.

“She is still gravely ill. She may yet survive. We can but hope. As for Hiluin...” He trailed off and left his sentence unfinished.

“Is there nothing that can be done? Surely, with the likes of Mithrandir, Elrond and Galadriel…”

“We are doing all we can, Pen-ii, I assure you. You have to understand that sometimes a person has to want to be healed.”

She looked confused.

“He knows what he did,” Faramir explained quietly. “Or what he tried to do, what he will have done if his wife dies. The madness that came over him in those few minutes has long passed, and with its passing he now has the knowledge of what his grief led him to. It has nearly broken him completely.”

She said nothing, just nodded dumbly. Her expression said everything.

Aragorn was watching her intently. Somewhere in the background she was dimly aware of Gimli making his farewells for the evening and several Dunedain saying they had early starts in the morning. Faramir crossed over to them to bid them goodnight and as he did so Aragorn spoke.

“I take it such things are known in your society?” he murmured.

She nodded. “It is understood… It is not unknown for soldiers to suffer, or indeed for anyone who has experienced something as terrible as war.”

Aragorn said nothing. She looked at him.

“Is that not so? Perhaps, since you are all so used to fighting, to war, it is not the same.”

“Oh, I would not say that. Violent death is a terrible thing to witness, to be a party to. It changes you completely.”

Then Faramir was back and interrupting (with profuse apologies) but he needed to lead Aragorn away to discuss something with one of the Dunedain who was about to leave.

Slowly the evening progressed.

Arwen and her ladies-in-waiting left after a little, as did Faelon and Elladan who left together. One by one as the group grew smaller and smaller, Penny was eventually left with only those she knew well and who all knew her story. She could relax a little and not worry about what she said so much, and the excellent spiced wine was helping a little as well.

Penny found herself sitting and listening to Gandalf and Aragorn relating old tales of when Aragorn had first come to Minas Tirith many years ago as a young man.

“I gather Lord Denethor was not too enamoured of ‘Thorongil.’”

Aragorn smiled grimly. “You could say that. I think he guessed at who I was, or my lineage at least. I was a threat.”

“And he never saw me as anything other than meddlesome,” Gandalf chipped in.

“Oh, he was more shrewd than that, I dare say,” Penny replied. “He would have known if the heir to the Throne had appeared in Minas Tirith there could only be one person pulling the strings in the background.”

“Indeed, Pen-ii?” Aragorn seemed amused. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Tell me, how are you finding Minas Tirith? Is it to your liking? Will you stay with us, do you think?”

“Oh, well, I… er…”

Gandalf’s look was knowing. “I think Lady Pen-ii still finds things a little… difficult. Would that be a fair assessment?”

“Indeed I think it would.”

Penny turned to find Halladan standing near her.

“Well, ‘difficult’ is perhaps a rather strong word to use…”

Penny was floundering, not wanting to really tell the King of Gondor and Arnor to his face quite what she thought of half of his kingdom.

“I do not think one ever wholly gets used to the scars of war,” Aragorn said in a low voice. “I think there are some things that we all find difficult, no matter how many times we see them.”

He looked away from Penny as he said this, his gaze brushing over Halladan as if by mere accident as he spoke, and finally looking out through the open door to the balcony to his right and the night sky beyond.

“I would not dare to presume that whatever discomfort I may feel is anything like that for those who have known battle, your Majesty.”

Penny’s voice was also quiet as she stared down into her cup, but she did not doubt for an instant Halladan could hear her.

“I forget you have never known war,” Aragorn replied, turning back to her. “You are most fortunate.”

“But her people have,” Gandalf said. “Remember she said to us once how there were things she might tell us but it might be better we never knew?”

“My father mentioned that.” Arvain had come to join his brother, moving a chair beside Gandalf and insisting his brother take it while he stood behind him. “I find it hard to believe, Pen-ii.”

She said nothing. She had given Halladan some indication of the little she had studied on such matters while receiving her relatively ordinary secondary education, and she had no desire to…

“Better we sail West than stay to see what would become of Men,” Celeborn was saying. “That is what she said to us in Lothlorien.”

“Not for a very long time,” Penny muttered hurriedly. “And besides, enough horrors have happened even in your own histories for you to know the sorts of things evil can drive people to commit.”

“I find it hard to believe anything could compare with the battles some of us have seen, though I take your word, Pen-ii.” Elrond, ever gentle and wise in tone, had added his voice to the mix, indeed it seemed as if every other conversation was stopping so the remaining few could join in on this one.

“Oh, I think Pen-ii shows some level of understanding,” Aragorn replied. “Her spirited defence of Hiluin and all soldiers of war the other day indicated that…”

“With all due respect, Estel, and to you, Pen-ii, without having been present in battle herself, how could Pen-ii truly know the bitter truth of such…?”

“Do you think I do not read, Lindir?” It had come out slightly sharper than she had intended. “Forgive me, Lindir, but really you have no idea about my time, about how very different it is from this.”

“Oh, I think some of us understand better than you might believe.”

She looked at Gandalf.

“Different?” Lindir was sounding a little confused and Penny suddenly wondered just how much spiced wine he had had. “But I thought it was being argued that you, or those in your society, had known war like ours or just as bad. If it was different, then…”

“I mean, Lindir, that war on the scale that has been seen even in living memory in my time is something that, with all due respect to everyone present, I do not think any of you have known. Indeed I think it would be incomprehensible to you. There was a time, not even a hundred years before my own, when war was still seen as a glorious, noble thing. Terrible, horrible, and yet something in which there was still a nobility, an honour, a pride.”

There were murmurs of agreement round the room.

“Are you saying that is no longer the case?” Aragorn seemed as surprised as he was curious.

“We know too much. We have seen too much. As a society, I mean.”

She hesitated, glanced round at them. Only Galadriel hung back, watching, but everyone else had taken a seat or was standing nearby.

“It is one thing, perhaps, when you fight a known, clear evil, when you have a purpose, when there is no question that your enemy must be stopped at all costs…”

She paused again for a moment.

“Around that time, there was a war. They thought it would be the war to end all wars because it was huge, so terrible… and so many men, young men, some barely more than boys… so many died that it changed everything. No one had seen battle on this scale before. No one had known horror like this. What they went through, what those men went through… Nothing was the same after that, nothing.”

Suddenly the atmosphere was changed – quiet, serious and expectant. Penny realised she had little choice but to explain further. She really had not wanted to talk about such things.

“It lasted four years and during that time an entire generation of young men were lost from many different countries and people – every family had at least one unmarried woman. All those men dead, and the leaders…” She gave a disgusted snort. Eyebrows were raised and glances exchanged. “Your Majesty, you led your men from the front, as have any here who has had to be in charge of any front, any attack, or any defence, I do not doubt.”

“But of course.” Aragorn was quick to respond, as if that was patently obvious that anyone with soldiers under his charge would behave in such a fashion. Then his brows furrowed with incredulity. “What are you saying, Pen-ii?”

“The generals sat several miles away from the front line sending young men to their deaths in what they knew would be a hopeless exercise time and again, month after month.”

There were gasps and cries of indignation.

“There were many times the men knew what they were doing was certain suicide and yet…”

“How many? Do you know?”

She looked at Gandalf and shook her head.

“It is many years since I read about this. I cannot remember exact numbers. But it was a huge number. Not thousands or tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands.”

Eyes were wide around the room now.

She looked at Erestor. “What is the word for a thousand thousand?”

“One million,” Erestor said slowly. He was looking at her in astonishment.

“Thank you. It was at least eight million. Not including those who were not soldiers.”

There was a stunned silence.

Penny kept on talking.

“And of course twenty years later there was an even greater and more terrible war. My great-grandfather fought in that. Many, many more were killed in that war.”

“But how is that even possible?” Celeborn looked appalled.

“There are many more people then than now…”

“No, no, I mean the numbers… in just four years…”

“Many countries were involved. It was a war that took place over a huge area. Not only that but… well, the fighting was not the same as what you have now.”

She grew hesitant and looked at Gandalf.

“I said I would not tell you this sort of thing…”

”We are all warriors in our own way. Every one of us here, Pen-ii. You can speak freely.”

So she explained how, if they could imagine something that might shoot arrows at the rate of several hundred a minute, that such a thing could be held by one or two men and several at once in a line could mow down row upon row of advancing troops.

“They wore no armour, you see,” she explained. “Other than a metal hat.”

There were muttered oaths, then, glances exchanged, grim looks, and, at last, some understanding of what she had been so wary to explain.

She described how something akin to Saruman’s exploding powder was put into metal tubes and then thrown great distances into the ranks of men. She did not need to finish her explanation of the devastating effect of such a contraption: every warrior there could fill the rest from his own imagination and experience. She did not dare look at Halladan as he stood abruptly and walked over to the door to stare out into the night sky.

She tried to explain what a shock this War had been to her society, how apocalyptic it had seemed, how it had changed everything forever. The numbers of dead, the conditions in which they had lived, the hopelessness of each endeavour, the deadly, murderous stalemate and futile sacrifices day after day…

“The landscape became defiled, stripped of vegetation with the explosions and fires. There was nothing but bare earth and in winter it became a sea of mud or frozen solid. In some battles tens of thousands just drowned in the mud,” she said simply. “Eru help you if you were wounded or tripped – you had no chance.”

She glanced round to see their faces taut with, if not disbelief, then shock, horror and a complete inability to express the range of emotions running through them.

She ground to a halt then. She felt she had made her point even without describing life in the trenches with the cold, the rats, the mud, the camaraderie broken only by slaughter or disease, or else the horror of no man’s land with the bodies, the filth, the rotting corpses left unburied or exposed with every blast of a shell.

She caught Galadriel’s eye and as she did so, the elleth walked towards her, holding her gaze all the while. She did not remember a question being asked, but she could not stop herself from filling in the gaps, all the things she had left unsaid. She heard Galadriel gasp and saw her eyes fill with tears.

“But such a thing… It is intolerable.”

Even Halladan turned to look as Galadriel turned back to face the others, her face stricken with grief by what she had seen in Penny’s mind. She looked up at her husband.

“She was right. It is best we never see such things.”

Celeborn stepped over to her quickly, wrapped his arms about her and kissed her brow.

“But why, Pen-ii? For what reason? What cause?”

“I cannot answer you, Gandalf. It is too long, too complicated, too meaningless. Such are rulers and countries with their petty squabbles and arrogance. Man’s inhumanity to man. It is a phrase in my tongue. Long years they fought, and all those men dead, sometimes only to move forward by one mile or less. It was hopeless – no way for either side to win and yet they fought on and on till they could fight no more.”

“And I take it many suffered as Hiluin suffers now?”

It was Aragorn who asked. Penny studiously avoided looking in Halladan’s direction, though she knew perfectly well he was looking straight at her.

“Many. Many went mad in battle and were killed as cowards by their own…”

There were roars of outrage at that.

“… Their illness was not understood, and it was not till long years afterwards that such men were treated with anything like compassion or understanding. Since that war there have been many brutal, terrible things committed. The last hundred years are said to have been the bloodiest ever known in human history. I do not doubt that to be true.”

To say she had killed the mood would be an understatement. That said, she had not particularly wanted to talk about such things, but she had been left with little choice. She had told them they would not like to hear it and they had not. They did better understand her level of knowledge of such things, even if she had not experienced them herself first hand.

She made her excuses pretty quickly and left as fast as was decent after that. She briefly considered going out onto the balcony where she knew Halladan was standing alone, staring out onto the dark city below. She felt she should apologise, should explain that she had not intended to bring the subject up. Then she thought it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie, and she let Arvain walk her to her door without bothering his brother.

That night her sleep was fitful. She had several strange and vivid dreams, the worst being one where her brother and mother were burying her, but the casket was see-through and she could see them clearly through its sides. She was screaming, waving, shouting, desperately trying to make it clear she was not dead, that they must not bury her, but they could not hear her. As she was lowered into the ground, the first thud of the earth being shovelled on top of the coffin, she awoke with a start and her heart pounding.

Eleniel stirred, and rolled over on her cot to look at her questioningly. Penny had risen from the bed and was reaching for a dress.

“I cannot sleep. I am going for some air.”

Eleniel sat up. “Let me keep you company…”

“No, no. Please. You rest, Eleniel, I shall be fine. I will go for a wander in the courtyard and return shortly.”

Eleniel, reassured, lay back down again. Penny slipped on a dress and shoes and headed outside.

What time it was, she had no way of knowing. She tried to gauge from the moon, but the attempts the elves had made to teach her such things had not really sunk in. It had to be late if Mireth and Eleniel were resting, though. As she wandered up to the courtyard and saw it was empty of all but the occasional guard crossing it, she knew it was probably well into the early hours.

She had brought a light shawl with her – one of Eleniel’s – since it was a clear night and cooler than might be expected given it was high summer, and especially up here in the highest Circle with the slight breeze. She wrapped it around herself and wandered up to one of the benches near the fountain and white tree in the centre of the square.

She felt tired but too awake, too alert. She had no particular desire to try and sleep if she was to have another dream like that again. She would just sit here for a while, in the quiet darkness, admiring the bright stars in the sky, the sound of the water from the fountain. It was peaceful. Hopefully after a little while she could wander back to her chambers and have some restful sleep for whatever remained of the night.

“Pen-ii?”

She jumped. There was a low chuckle from behind her.

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

“Halladan, do not do that! You are as bad as an elf!”

He laughed softly. “I think I might take that as a compliment, only you must have been lost deep in your thoughts indeed to not hear my limping shuffle and my stick tapping on the stones.”

Something about the way he said it made her look at him as he came to sit next to her.

“Your leg will heal, Halladan. You said so yourself.”

“Perhaps. It will never be quite what it was, I suspect.” He rubbed at it slightly, wincing a little.

“It hurts you?”

“Aches a little at times. I am meant to rub it, knead it a little every now and then. I forget and then get a telling off from the healers.” He smiled ruefully.

“I shall remind you, in that case.”

“Ai, not you also!”

“Halladan, if you cannot remember for yourself…”

He smiled and shook his head, lifting his hands slightly in a half-shrug as if to say ‘there is no arguing with you.’

“It is for your own good, you know!” She was grinning.

“I know, I know!” He chuckled and there was a few more minutes’ silence.

“You cannot sleep?”

He shook his head. “You?”

“Same. I kept dreaming of my family. I decided I needed some air.”

Halladan was pulling out his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. He began to fill the bowl.

“I am here most nights,” he said.

She looked at him. “You never did answer my question of today, about whether you were sleeping well or not.”

He said nothing for a minute or so, just carried on pushing down the tobacco in the pipe bowl. Then he carefully put the pouch away, lit the pipe and took a few sucks on it as he looked ahead towards the Citadel and the mountains.

“Well, now you have your answer,” he said at last.

She had no idea what to say, but even as she searched for the words he threw her a quick sideways glance, saw her expression and cut her off before she could speak.

“Oh, I am no different from many, Pen-ii. There are times I meet fellows out here in the early hours, taking some air, avoiding sleep just like myself. Admittedly, there were a few more when the Rohirrim were still here and the men from Dol Amroth, but still…”

There was so much she could say, wanted to say, indeed, but she held her tongue. For once in her life, Penny let her head hold sway and Halladan seemed to appreciate it. They sat in companionable silence, Halladan smoking his pipe and Penny looking up at the stars. Occasionally she would try and show off what little she had managed to learn from the elves, pointing out a constellation or a star and trying to remember its name. A few she got right. Many she got wrong, though, and Halladan would correct her with an amused smile.

Eventually, his pipe finished and with the first pale light of dawn showing in the East, Halladan suggested she try and get some rest. They walked slowly to her lodgings but as they reached the door, Penny turned to him.

“Halladan? I know I said I would not mention it, and I would not, except…”

Halladan gave a heavy sigh and his face fell. “I had wondered if it would be too much to hope for.”

“That is not fair, Halladan. I meant what I said to you. I gave you my word, and I will stand by that. I only wanted to say… well… it occurred to me that perhaps I had been the one to… I mean, I just wanted to ask you to forgive me, that was all.”

Halladan seemed confused.

“We only stopped where we did because I asked if we could, and just before you… I had just pointed out to you that you had mentioned Hirvell to me. If I was the cause of what happened… I am so very sorry, Halladan, please forgive me.”

Halladan looked at her for a moment, but his expression was unreadable in the darkness.

“There is nothing to forgive, Pen-ii. I should have recognised where we were sooner, and it could just as easily have… happened elsewhere.” There was a strain in his tone of voice that showed how hard it was for him to talk about it even in such oblique terms. “Till this moment it did not even occur to me that you could be in any way to blame. I still do not think so, indeed I know so. Rather, I should apologise to you. I do not doubt it was frightening for you.”

“A little at first, perhaps… before I understood what was happening. It was distressing more than frightening, if I am honest.”

“I have little control… It is hard to…” He was finding difficulty expressing himself, but the sense of frustration and self-reproach were clear in his tone.

“I understand, Halladan.” She could guess it must be hard for him to discuss this.

He nodded, as if thanking her for allowing him to leave much unsaid.

“I thank you for your concern, and for your apology, but there really is no need.” He smiled. “Now go and rest.”

“And you? Will you take some rest?”

“No. No, I will go and watch the dawn rise over the mountains.”

As she watched him heading off back up the alley towards the courtyard she wondered if, as he watched the sun rise over the mountains of Mordor, he would look to the north-west corner of the mountain chain and think of his brother.

She suspected he very probably would.

The days fell back into the easy routine of before. When she was not in the library (or at her Westron lessons, which continued apace), then she was often at Meresel’s house which was a large, grand building in the Sixth Circle. Her children were delightful, but Penny quickly learnt that it raised eyebrows amongst the servants if you rolled on the floor while playing with a toddler. Meresel laughed and told Penny not to mind them, but Penny could tell that even she found Penny’s behaviour a little too free at times.

She learnt a few children’s rhymes though, and discovered the Gondorian equivalent of ‘Ten Green Bottles Sitting On The Wall’ was ‘Ten Milk Churns on the Drayman’s Cart.’ However, Meresel’s eldest son (who had a ten-year-old cousin who clearly taught him much) whispered that there was another version that ran ‘Ten Dead Orcs on a Soldier’s Spear’ with various graphic variations. Penny agreed that, yes, it was indeed a much better version and promised that, no, she would not tell his mother he knew it.

However, there were various factors that had taken the edge off Penny’s enjoyment of the city, not least of which was the fact that she was studiously avoiding having to go down to the First Circle or anywhere near the main city square for the time being. The oppressive feeling of the city’s unfamiliar familiarity increased daily, as did the sense that she was ever so slightly out of kilter with the court and Gondorian life in general. Meresel went out of her way to make Penny feel welcome, and Arwen insisted she spend much time with the ladies of the court, but she could never wholly relax or be herself the way she could with the elves or even the Dunedain. She was constantly aware there was always one lady or other with a critical look in their eye, sniffing disdainfully at her.

Not only that, though.

The episode with Halladan had done much to shake her, to remind her of the cost of war and the guilt she felt that would not leave her completely. She suspected it likely never would for as long as she remained in Gondor and in Minas Tirith especially. As for things between the two of them, if Penny had been concerned that it would make things awkward, she need not have worried. Halladan seemed to accept her word that she would not refer to it, and she did not after that one time, so as the days went by his trust in her was confirmed.

She was concerned, though. Now she knew what he was suffering she could see things she had either not noticed before, or had not been aware of their significance. He often looked tired through lack of decent sleep, and he could sometimes be overly sharp in response to someone, though it was rare.

She could also see both Faelon and Arvain had a watchful concern for him. Everyone seemed to skirt round him, almost as if waiting, hoping he might let them in but allowing him the space to do whatever he felt was best in the meantime. However, Penny was not convinced that strategy was working, not if what she had witnessed on the Pelennor was anything to go by.

No one remarked on the fact that the two seemed to spend their evenings together quite a bit. He provided her with a good excuse to avoid the company when she felt she could not cope with it, but also Penny seemed to be good at coaxing Halladan from his morose solitude and getting him to be a little bit more sociable.

Those times when she got bullying and insistent about him coming in from the courtyard (usually under the pretext that she would like to have a dance and he needed to exercise that leg of his), Halladan would give her a look that told her in no uncertain terms that, given what she now knew, she should know better than to push it. She would just ignore him, though, because she was determined, rightly or wrongly, that anything that would keep his mind off things might help. For whatever reason, he rarely offered much resistance or put his foot down. Perhaps something in Halladan was trying to make up for having allowed her to be witness to his trauma, or perhaps he was even trying to prove to her that he really was not the wreck she might now imagine him to be. Thus he allowed her to drag him off for a dance or to be sociable on a slightly more regular basis than he might have liked in normal circumstances. Arvain would laugh and encourage her, and Faelon would quite deliberately make a grab for Halladan’s tankard with a wide grin saying he would hold it for him, so Halladan was left with no choice.

“I would prefer…” he would hiss at her through clenched teeth.

“I know you would, but this will keep us both busy for a while.”

And she would not look at him as she said this for fear his stern look might make her hesitate. Instead she would wait until they were in position and the music already starting. Only then would she risk a smile and he would shake his head at her and chuckle.

Word had come from Rohan some time before as to when Eomer was due to arrive. Messengers had been sent south to Prince Imrahil at the same time since he had made it clear he wished to honour King Theoden and join the funeral party at such time as it left Minas Tirith.

Two days after the incident on the Pelennor, Penny noticed two blond nobles in Rohirric dress sitting with Faelon and Elladan at lunch. Several Gondorians or Dunedain stopped to greet them, and it was clear these two had fought side by side with many in the room. They had come with the news that Eomer was indeed on his way, as planned, and would arrive within three days with an entire eored of men to collect their fallen King.

It would not be long before they set off, then, back to Rohan, and Penny could tell there was a level of both excitement and sadness building. The hobbits were talking a lot more of home and how much they missed it (conversations that Penny studiously avoided, if she could), and the elves spoke of how their work was done in Gondor and that it would heal and become great once more. The Gondorian nobles were beginning to voice their thoughts on how much the elves would be missed, and how fortunate they felt they had been to have been in the presence of so many. The only ones who said nothing were the Dunedain, though Penny did not doubt they longed to return home just as much as the hobbits did. They would leave dead friends behind them, though, and that would be a hard moment indeed.

It was late afternoon the following day. Penny had just finished tea with the hobbits and was on her way back out to the main square, ambling down the corridors with Eleniel, Legolas and Gandalf who had all been at the meal. As they passed through a doorway out into the open, Gandalf called Penny’s name and she turned to find him hanging back a little.

“Would you care to join me for a little walk?” he asked as he slowly made his way out of the doorway.

“But of course.”

Gandalf smiled, nodded and turned right, heading off towards the royal chambers at a slow walking pace.

They chatted inconsequentially about nothing terribly much as they made their way to the group of buildings to the back of the Citadel. Indeed it was so inconsequential that Penny began to feel a little nervous. It was as if Gandalf were very deliberately trying to make it seem as if nothing of any import whatsoever was about to be discussed, which of course only made Penny think that that was exactly what was going to happen.

And she reckoned she could probably guess what the subject would be when he finally got round to broaching it.

Eventually, Gandalf led her to a small courtyard that was enclosed only on three sides, the fourth side being the outer wall with an embrasure and a seat in the middle.

“Come, let us sit.”

He gestured to the stone seat and Penny could see the deep slit in the wall looked out over the south of the city and the Pelennor.

“Well, now,” Gandalf said at last. “I thought perhaps it was time we had a little talk. You have been in the city some time now, and while I realise you are still finding some aspects of life here difficult, it is less raw or distressing than it was. Would that be a fair assessment?”

“Yes.”

She tried not to sound worried. She was really not sure she wanted this conversation. Especially not if it was going where she thought it was going.

“Oh, I apologise for springing this on you.” He smiled. “You must not think too unkindly of me. Best I bring it up like this rather than give you advance warning and let you worry and squirrel your way out of it, no?” The smile broadened.

“Mithrandir, I am really not sure that I…”

“I understand your fears. Really, I do. For all that you are desperate for answers, the fear of what those answers might be is probably greater than your curiosity. I suspect that you may never have come to me to discuss this if I had left it in your hands.”

Penny suspected he was probably right.

He sighed. “Let me be frank, Pen-ii. I have no idea how you came here, or why it occurred.”

Penny had not expected him to come to the point quite so abruptly. There was a brief silence.

“Oh.”

She was not sure why she felt so disappointed. After all, if he had known he would have told her long ago, and she had not really expected him to know. Even so…

“It is the work of a power far greater than even I can fathom. It may be there is a purpose behind it. Who can say? I can guess at some who might better understand or conjecture, but they are not here to aid us, nor can I ask them directly. All I can tell you is that I do not know, nor is it for me to know. It may be there is something you would do or have done already. It may be there is something that will come about many years from now as a consequence of your being here. It may be there is no reason for it at all.”

Penny’s pulse was beginning to race as she waited for what she now knew was coming.

“Will you stay here in Arda? Ah, now there is a question indeed. You remember how when I first met you it seemed as if you were at once familiar to me and yet so very, very different?”

Penny nodded.

“Well, now I meet you once again here in Gondor and you are changed. I know Galadriel said as much to you, and it is plain for those with wisdom to see it. I can sense it very clearly. There will always be something about you that is at one remove from this place, but you are not so strangely different any more.” He looked at her. “You are where you should be, Pen-ii. You belong.”

Penny was trying not to think about the implications in that phrase.

“The Lady Galadriel said I was ‘home.’”

Gandalf nodded. “And indeed you are. I cannot explain it. I can only tell you what I know to be true. Will that situation change? Perhaps. … No, no, Pen-ii, do not get upset. It is best to be honest, no?”

Penny’s face had fallen and a sound of disappointment had escaped her before she could stop it.

“As I was about to say, however, my instincts tell me it is unlikely. I shall not say it is impossible, but you are too rooted, too at one with your surroundings for me to think it will happen. As I said before, this is where you are meant to be, for all that seems so very strange. You once seemed very distant to me, as if you had still so much of you at some far remove from me, lost in mists that even I could not penetrate. That is not the case now. You are here and all is as it should be. I can sense that very clearly and absolutely.”

Penny’s mind was a whirl. She had no idea what to make of all this. These were answers, and yet they were not. Was this certainty? Or the nearest she would get to it? Dare she hope?

Gandalf took her hand, and laid his other hand gently on her cheek, tilting her head upwards so she looked into his eyes.

“You must not fear, Pen-ii. Live your life. You cannot worry about things that may never come to pass. I cannot tell you with any certainty what the future may bring, though I have some insight. What you fear will not come to pass, of that I am as sure as I can be. I hope I am never proved wrong, for you have made good friends here, and I, and others who know you well, think you are perhaps happier here than you ever were before. Is that not the case?”

She nodded. She felt so desperately guilty about it, about wanting to stay, about not wanting to return to her family…

“There is no easy path in life. Sometimes you make hard choices in the face of fear. But know this, Pen-ii, let this be an advice from one who, if I may be so bold, has some wisdom to impart and has some inkling of what tomorrow may bring: do not let fear prevent you from choosing happiness. You are home. Remember that.”

What was he telling her?

“You can only live your life as if you are here to stay for the rest of your days.”

“That is what I have been doing. I think I would have gone insane otherwise.”

“Indeed. Exactly so. I am less worried than I was in Imladris, however. You are more part of this world now than you ever were then. I think there is little danger of your returning now, indeed I am almost certain there is none.”

Was it so very wrong of her to feel a surge of happiness at those words?

“I cannot tell you with sure knowledge, only from my instinct and supposition. No matter if I am wrong or right, you must live here as if that is the case. You must grieve the loss of your family and you must accept your new life here. The way is forward, not back.”

Grieve the loss of her family? Yes, that was true. She had set no time aside for such a thing, it had almost been as if she was on extended holiday, as if one day even if years passed she might see them once more…

A tear spilled over onto one cheek. A gnarled thumb stroked it away.

“Your mother would be proud if she could see you now, how you have changed and grown. Of that I am certain.”

Several more tears trickled down and she took deep breaths, trying to maintain her composure.

She felt her hand gently squeezed in his.

“Ah, Pen-ii, I know what it is to be far from home and from those you love.”

“Do you remember it? I mean, is it very clear to you?”

The hand at her face fell slowly to his lap and he looked out towards the distant Anduin as he spoke.

“I do remember it. Better now than I did when I was still ‘The Grey’. I yearn to return even though I know not if my fate is to remain in Valinor or move on even further still. My task here is complete at long last. Once you have known such beauty, such light, your heart is always restless to return. It never leaves you.”

“And yet some choose to stay away. If you feel such a thing, surely Sauron must have done also? Saruman?”

“You have to want what that beauty and light stands for. It is easy, perhaps, to allow other desires to become greater in your heart, carry more weight, seem truer and of more worth, however misguided. Besides, once a path is trodden it is difficult to turn back. It is easier to continue, easier to fear that there is no hope of return even if that is not the case.”

“There is one story that says Saruman nearly joined you.”

Gandalf turned his head to look down at her, eyebrows furrowed and his gaze curious and surprised.

“The Nazgul came to his door while you were on the tower. In one version of the tale he immediately realised his folly, rushed to speak to you, to ask forgiveness but it was too late. He arrived in time to see you fly away. Till they arrived he had not fully appreciated the danger he had put himself in by setting himself in opposition to Sauron as a rival.”

“I see.”

There was a rather pregnant pause and then…

“Is there anything else you wish to tell me, Pen-ii?”

What the…?!

“N-no. Why do you…?”

“You are sure?”

“Gandalf, I…”

Her head had dropped. She was not looking at him.

“I hope you have good reasons, Pen-ii. The War is over. Sauron is fallen.”

‘Yes, but the War is not over, is it?’ she thought. ‘And there is still stuff to happen and if I tell you what he is capable of, what he has done, what he plans to do, would you believe me? Would you kill him on the strength of that alone? Could you allow the people, the place you love so dearly to suffer so much? I doubt it. And yet could you kill him yourself in Grima’s place? In cold blood? Could Elrond or Galadriel or any of you?’

She glanced up at him briefly to find his gaze was piercing, possibly even a little knowing. Had he guessed? Why else ask at the mention of Saruman? Why now?

Gandalf nodded slowly, as if to himself more than anything.

“Very well, Pen-ii. I would ask you to think long and hard over anything you keep back. I know you know how serious a business this is.”

“It is not a decision I make lightly, Gandalf. Even now I worry and wonder, and I may yet speak to you or someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Penny said nothing. She could not explain that she felt it unwise to speak to those who would come face to face with Saruman himself on the journey north, those who would, in their wisdom, kindness and magnanimity let him go free rather than slay him like the dog he was. After all, had he not helped them (as they understood it) in the past? Had he not aided them in the fight against Sauron to remove him from Dol Guldur? The full extent of Saruman’s malice was even yet not completely understood. Possibly not until the true Elendilmir was discovered by Aragorn hidden away in Orthanc would it to be realised just how far Saruman had fallen and how long ago, how utterly lost and unredeemable his black heart now was.

As Penny had said: the story of Saruman changing his mind in fear was only one version and may not even be true for all she knew.

Gandalf quickly brushed the moment aside, repeating all the things he had said to her previously: that she must think of herself as staying in Middle-earth. Even if he could not confirm that that absolutely was the case, it made no difference to Penny: it was almost the best answer she could have hoped for.

It did not sink in at first. In many ways it changed nothing since, as she had said to Gandalf, she had had to train herself into thinking as if she was here to stay many months ago or else lose her marbles completely.

And yet…

And yet it changed so much. She could relax, she could sit back, she could make plans…

She could finally accept both her situation and her loss.

As they walked back out to the courtyard they were silent, a thousand thoughts cramming in on her. When they reached the open space she could see several friends milling around, filling the small amount of time there would be till supper with chatting, singing and laughter. She felt overwhelmed, suddenly, as if she had a desperate need to be alone to try and process what she had been told.

“Go. Go to your chambers,” Gandalf said quietly, even as he spotted Lindir waving at them and calling them over. “I shall fend them off for you.” And he smiled and she knew he had forgiven her her reticence about the Saruman business, though she still worried she was making the wrong decision.

“Thank you.”

She hurried off.

As she rounded the corner to the alleyway down to their lodgings, she met Celebdor, Mireth, Halladan and Faelon on their way to the square. She murmured apologies and said she needed to get some rest, that she would see them a little later. They smiled, nodded and moved away, as did she, but Halladan hesitated.

“Is anything amiss?”

“What? No.”

“Only you seem… I am not sure, a little agitated, a little… well, not distressed exactly…”

She looked down, torn between her happiness and her sadness.

“Pen-ii?” He took a step towards her. “Pen-ii, what is it?”

“It is nothing. Really. I… I just need to be alone a while.” She looked up at him. “I am quite well, I assure you. I… I just spoke to Gandalf and he gave me news I have both longed and feared to hear. I am a little bewildered. I need time to think over what he has told me, to accept it and come to terms with it. Forgive me, Halladan… I will speak to you later about it.”

“But of course.” He smiled sympathetically. “I quite understand.”

She made to leave.

“I only hope it was good news?”

She turned, walking backwards even as she spoke. “Yes. Yes, it was. Or at least… No, it was. Yes, it was good news.”

He smiled and she smiled back, if a little hesitantly. She turned once more, walking quickly to the door to her lodgings.

She did not know it, but Halladan remained standing at the top of the alleyway watching her all the while.

Author’s Notes:

There is some debate over whether when Gandalf was ‘sent back’ it was only temporarily to finish the job and then return to Eru Himself, or whether he was truly ‘reincarnated’ (which is not quite the right word, I know) and would return to Valinor to live as Olorin as he had always done. For myself, I think the wording implies that he would not stay in Valinor but would move on, but I have left it open here. I think Gandalf knows what the answer is, even if he says he is not sure.

Re. WWI: the figures for the total dead of soldiers taken from as reliable a source as I could find, but such things are never wholly accurate and you will find different numbers according to where you look. Taking into account every country that fought on both sides, the total of combatants who died is thought to be around 9 million.

The details of Saruman – the Nazgul visiting him on their way North to the Shire and him having found the bones of Isildur (and thus the true Elendilmir as well as the chain and locket in which Isildur carried The Ring) – are to be found in Unfinished Tales. The Elendilmir was a jewel worn on a band that was the sign of Kingship. It was, obviously, worn by Isildur and thus still on his body when he died and so was lost. A copy was made to replace it and it was that copy which Aragorn wore until he found the original in Orthanc.

My thanks to everyone for the amount of comment and feedback the last chapter generated, especially from those with personal experience of PTSD. *hugs you all* Apologies for the time this chapter has taken to get up.