Chapter 38 – “Persuasion”

At breakfast the next morning, it became apparent that Halladan’s mood was no less dark than it had been the night before, when he was overly sharp to Rhimlath over some typically sweeping comment the elf had made. Rhimlath raised a surprised eyebrow at Halladan, who simply muttered something about going to ready his saddle and left his bread and fruit unfinished.

Penny looked at Arvain, but he just sighed and shook his head.

What she did not know, but would soon become clear, was that the mood of the camp was still unchanged from the previous day and, if anything, had only deepened further. The previous night, when the first flush of rage toward Corunir had begun to dissipate, Halladan had then found his mood was not helped by the discussions he became an unwilling, silent party to, and they continued late into the night, long after Penny had retired to her bedroll. Perhaps it was an inevitable consequence of everyone having heard the horselord’s cries the night before (and knowing full well what they had implied), but many topics of conversation that night throughout the camp had turned to the War and the details thereof: what men had witnessed.

This continued for the next couple of days, particularly late in the evenings when there were low murmurings in quiet corners throughout the camp about how it seemed such and such a person had been affected by what he had seen in the War, or how another of their huge party had supposedly been found weeping alone in a tent a day or two before. Isolated cases, it had to be said, and the identities of those concerned were usually kept secret, but even so talk was rife.

It was not malicious or gossipy. The majority of those discussing such things were warrior males who well understood such things, some of whom even had prior experience of how people could be so affected and perhaps had even been affected themselves in years gone by in the case of the ellyn and one or two of the older men. Rather, such discussions seemed to form some sort of common bonding, an excuse for those involved to unburden themselves a little.

It had to be said the consumption of alcohol in certain sections of the camp increased considerably as well, however.

These discussions were also a wholly male domain. The few women and many ellith in the camp were not included in such talk for several reasons, though there were two main ones. Firstly, this was largely a mortal problem (in that the few members of the camp known to be suffering were all mortals), and thus did not concern the ellith directly. Secondly, there was a sense that some of the graphic nature of such discussions (“he saw his father cleaved in two in front of him”) was not for female ears, however much it was the case that several of the ellith were battle-trained, and many of them and the women had helped the wounded from the battlefield in their time. The menfolk in particular would not have understood if females were included in such talk, but would naturally want to protect them from knowing the full horror of war if they possibly could – a sentiment the ellyn wholeheartedly agreed with.

Of course, by the end of that same evening Arwen and Galadriel had got to hear of what was going on and slowly word spread through the female contingent about the general mood amongst the warriors, as much as a warning to expect some dark moods or even violent outbursts (though everyone hoped it would not come to that, of course). It might be best, it was suggested, to leave the men to it while also being prepared to step in if some sort of distraction was asked for or help needed. It also provided an explanation at last for those few times when groups of females had happened upon small huddles of men or ellyn who had been talking with low voices and serious faces and yet the conversation had died away as soon as the presence of females was noted.

The moment Penny heard about it from Mireth in their tent as they settled down for the night, her main concern was Halladan. She was not sure if this would help him or make things worse. It might be that to have that level of understanding and support around him would help him to free himself of some of the horror that was burdening him. Then again it could just as easily trigger things best not triggered and make matters that much more difficult for him, and given the filthy mood he had been in of late, she suspected the latter. She only wished she had some better understanding, some medical background, and then she could have given him some genuinely helpful advice. As it was she had to sit back and let nature take its course.

That said, those who were considered to be badly affected by the War were rarely party to such discussions since those who actually knew who was so affected knew better than to broach the subject in their presence, and the ellyn generally had a fair instinct as to who might find such things a little difficult to discuss. There were moments, however, almost inevitably, when such an individual found himself in the midst of men swapping tales of the horrors they had seen, of how it could turn the stomach if not the mind of any sane man, however strong and brave he may be.

“… no one would have thought it of him, and yet he was on his knees on the battlefield, weeping like a child…”

“… I saw dreadful things… The things those beasts did to the dead…it would make me ill to describe it… ”

“… and one had this great axe… well, you know the damage those things can do… there was little left of him once it had finished with him. There was no body to bury. Out all night his father was, calling for him in the dark, much as we tried to stop him. Terrible business…”

Halladan was certainly noticeably more tense. His temper was shorter and he would actively seek out privacy and solitude. He offered himself for guard duty on an all-too-regular basis, and Aragorn granted it to him without question, which was in itself significant, perhaps. Even when not on guard duty, he would invariably remove himself from the company, light his pipe and sit on his own in the dark, staring out into the night.

Anything to get away from the whispered, shared camaraderie, the communal tales of blood and horror.

“Halladan?”

He glanced up to see Penny hovering nearby. It was the evening of the seventh day of travel, and he was sitting in the dark on the edge of the camp just out of the reach of the lanterns and campfires.

“Yes?” His tone was perhaps a little sharper than he had intended.

Penny hesitated, unsure and uncertain.

“If you do not wish for company, then just say so. I just thought…”

He shrugged in an ‘it’s a free country, you can do as you please’ sort of fashion before turning back to stare out at the copse of trees just visible in the thickening gloom ahead of him. Penny took that as a tacit acceptance of her presence and sat down next to him. For a long time she said nothing. Halladan shifted slightly, hissing and wincing a little as he did so, massaging at his thigh.

“Are you kneading your leg regularly as the healers advised you to do?”

“Yes.” Again that snappy tone, the hint of irritation.

“Every day?”

There was no response. Penny wondered if she should respond with something joking like ‘what are we to do with you, eh?’ but, given Halladan was her senior by seven years or so, as well as her guardian (let alone behaving like a bear with a sore head all evening) it would probably come across badly. She opted for a smile and a friendly, well-meaning tone instead.

“I shall try and get back into the habit of reminding you in that case. I had got out of the habit with travelling. The sooner you can get rid of that stick the better.”

“Is it that abhorrent?”

She gasped.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it!”

She could feel her hackles rise. He was being deliberately argumentative. If she was that much of an irritant, he could have just said he wanted to be left alone, not allow her to sit down and then behave like this.

“I thought you wanted to get back as much use in your leg as possible? Not only that, but I cannot imagine riding or walking all day can be helping much.”

Halladan’s only response was a sort of snorting sound. Whether it was an expression of derision that she should attempt to show some understanding of his injury, or a wry sound to indicate that, yeah, sitting in one position or walking for hours at a stretch were indeed not the best things to be doing, Penny was not sure. It could have been either, frankly. Penny was trying not to take his mood personally and was wondering if coming to join him, as she often had in the courtyard in front of the Citadel, had been the best idea. Perhaps it would be better if she just left him to it, if he was going to continue to be like this.

Another long silence elapsed before Penny spoke again, trying to keep her voice quiet and her tone sincere, trying to offer him some sort of friendship, some understanding.

“Forgive me for asking this, but are things getting difficult for you in the camp?”

“No,” he replied, breathing heavily through his nose. “Should they be?”

“Well, if even I am aware of the topic of some conversations going round of late… It must be hard for you. I cannot tell you if it is a good thing, an opportunity… or something to be avoided. I wish I could advise you better…”

“And it is your place to advise me, is it?”

She looked at him, taken aback. “Well, no, of course not, I just… I mean…”

He got to his feet.

“I am going for a walk,” he said brusquely, and strode off into the darkness.

Penny blinked after him, feeling a weight settle in her stomach.

“Well, that went just swimmingly, Penny,” she muttered to herself, scathingly. “Well bloody done.”

She knew it was not directed at her particularly (or she hoped it was not) since he had been like this with just about everyone for nearly two days now, with Arvain getting the worst of it from what Penny could see. She still felt that surge of outraged annoyance of someone unfairly treated, though, as well as a pang of something like hurt, which was a little upsetting.

There was the soft tread of a boot behind her.

“Pay him no heed, Pen-ii. He is a little out of sorts of late, that is all. He does not mean it.”

Penny nodded but said nothing. She knew he was right. It was still hard to be on the receiving end of it, though.

Arvain came to sit next to her, taking the place Halladan had just left.

“All this talk in the camp is difficult for him.” He paused for some time before continuing. “He saw things, Pen-ii, things that no one should ever see.”

“I know.” She looked at him. “Faelon told me what happened.”

“Ah.” Arvain nodded slowly, not looking at her. “Halladan… he was always the one who took things upon himself, and he took Hirvell’s death very hard. It was to be expected, perhaps.”

There was an edge to his voice, however, a hint of bitterness than Penny was not sure she had ever heard him use before.

“You resent him for it?”

“No!” He looked at her then. “No, not in the least! Why did you..?”

“Just your tone of voice. And Faelon said something…”

Arvain’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

“He knows you better than I, Arvain. He felt that you had never quite got over what happened, in your own way.”

It took some time for Arvain’s gaze to fall away, his brow furrowing further still, as if slowly assessing what she was saying. Penny noted he did not deny it, but then he did not reply at all either. What was it with these damn warriors not wanting to talk about anything?

“Those men in your history,” Arvain said quietly after several minutes, “The ones who fought in that war, who became ill… Did they get well?”

“Some. Many were left untreated. It was not fully understood at the time what they were going through. It took many years for it to be understood and accepted.” She looked at him. “Mireth tells me that there are many here in the camp who can help the men who are affected. You know that. You know what was being done to help Hiluin right up till the day we left the city.”

Hiluin had been left in the care of the healers. The day they left, his wife had shown some improvement and, while still gravely ill, was out of danger for the time being. It was hoped Aragorn would return to find Hiluin responsive and healing at last.

Arvain nodded slowly. When he spoke at last his voice was quiet.

“He was not like this at first. He was injured, and it took time for him to recover, and that meant he was not himself, but only as anyone gravely injured may seem a little different. Then the old Halladan was back. The moment he was able to get off his cot and start walking about, he seemed like his old self. But then slowly in recent months…” He glanced at her, as if unsure whether to continue, whether to divulge what was probably private information. “He rarely sleeps, or does so only for short amounts of time. That cannot be good for him.”

“It is one of the symptoms. Memories invade their dreams. He might suffer nightmares.”

She spoke in possibilities, aware that she should not let Arvain know just how much she knew, what she had been a witness to.

Arvain nodded. “Yes, I know.” Again he paused. “And he does.”

He said it with such feeling that Penny instantly realised that he had, in all probability, actually coaxed Halladan through such moments. They had shared lodgings in Minas Tirith, after all.

“It only happened once… No, that is not true. It happened a few times, but the first and only time I actually intervened, tried to comfort him after he woke…”

He trailed off and Penny wondered how that must have been for him, to lie awake at night and hear his brother’s nightmares, worrying whether to wake him or even refer to them at all once dawn had come. What had driven Arvain to take the plunge at last? Had it been a particular dream that had so upset him so that he had felt compelled to intervene? Or had he just been unable to endure it any longer, unable to lie there doing nothing and letting Halladan suffer?

“He made sure to try and keep his sleep interrupted after that, spent long hours away from our lodgings at night.”

Again that note of bitterness. Was Arvain frustrated at being shut out too? And he had more right, far more right than any Penny could claim to such frustration.

“You should talk to him.”

There was a hollow laugh from Arvain. “You are joking, surely?”

“Not in the least.”

Arvain looked at her. “The last thing Halladan wants is for me to talk to him about this. He has made that very clear.”

“I am sure he has. I still think you should persevere. It is for his own good. Perhaps seek advice from King Elessar? Or Mithrandir?”

“Pen-ii, do you have any idea what Halladan would do if he knew I had discussed this with you, let alone thought I had mentioned it to Aragorn or Gandalf? He is a proud man. Proud, and as stubborn as a mule.”

Penny had promised Halladan she would not mention his condition to anyone, and she had not: Arvain had broached the subject, and she had replied as if from her little knowledge of such things from the First World War and what Faelon had told her. Arvain knew she had some understanding about these things so would not consider it unusual that she could guess at what he was telling her. In fact that was possibly why he felt comfortable with sharing this information with her.

She had not broken her promise, she told herself.

Or at least she hoped Halladan would agree with her if he ever found out about this.

“They might already realise.”

“That is not the point, though you are probably right. They have known him all his life. They can see how he has changed and easily guess the reasons for it. All this talk in the camp of late has only served to make it all the clearer how he is suffering. They cannot have failed to have noticed.”

“You could talk in general terms. Seek advice for an unknown person, or just ask how they would best tackle such a situation if they were faced with it.”

Arvain shook his head. “No, I shall wait for him to talk to me or else come to terms with it in his own time.”

“And if that does not happen, Arvain? What then?”

He did not reply, though he threw her a worried glance.

After some time Penny rose, saying she should head back to join Mireth and the others. Arvain nodded, replying he would stay where he was for a little while longer.

As Penny made her way back to the campfire she mulled over her conversation with Arvain. It was not that Arvain feared his brother, Penny realised that. It was that he respected him, as well as loved him dearly, and perhaps on some level still ultimately trusted his judgement, trusted Halladan to know if he could or could not cope. It would take a lot for Arvain to risk Halladan’s anger in broaching the subject with him himself. Whatever had passed between them during that one time Arvain had sought to help Halladan with his night terrors had put paid to him trying anything like that again. Given Halladan’s reaction to Penny on the Pelennor, she could only imagine how he had reacted to Arvain shaking him awake from something horrific. If Halladan had still been half asleep and faced with someone with whom he felt he could speak freely, Penny did not doubt Arvain had indeed felt the sharp end of Halladan’s tongue and the full force of his fury, fuelled as he no doubt would have been by his shame that such a thing was happening to him, let alone that his brother now knew about it.

It was still relatively early, so Penny remained at the campfire for quite some time. Arwen was there and called Penny over to sit with her as she, Mireth and Eleniel chatted away.

A little to one side sat Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel. Glorfindel was also with them, and as Penny passed by them, he asked if she would like to join them. Penny hesitated, glancing at Elrond before apologising and explaining Arwen had already asked her to join her. She thanked them and wished them a pleasant evening.

Perhaps she imagined it but it seemed as if Elrond, his head bowed and not looking in her direction, nodded gently, almost imperceptibly and as if to himself, as she spoke.

Elladan and Elrohir were seated with Arwen, smiling into their cups of wine at every story being told. Many seemed to concern Arwen’s youth, which Penny found fascinating if a little sad at the same time: reminiscences being shared before they all parted company. She also wondered if this was why Elrond was not seated with his daughter for once, if that was the topic of conversation.

The elves seemed the only ones in relatively high spirits, though even their general demeanour was more subdued than usual. It seemed quiet in the Gondorian and Rohirric parts of the camp – a low murmur with little singing and no laughter.

Aragorn was nowhere to be seen amongst the elves. For the last two nights he and Gandalf had been spending their evenings with the men, talking quietly round campfires as they smoked their pipes, providing some words of comfort, wisdom and reassurance to the restless. Narya’s strength had waned considerably, but not completely. That and Gandalf’s innate wisdom worked wonders and many hearts were the lighter for his company. He was ‘Old Stormcrow’ no more.

Many of the Dunedain had also taken it upon themselves to sit with their fellow mortal warriors, a strong calming presence amid the talk of butchery and loss. So too Faramir and Eomer, well respected and well loved by all, did their part. Indeed, had they not lost and suffered also? The ellyn would occasionally join them, but mainly this was a mortal affair and left in the hands of the great and good amongst the mortals (and Gandalf who was so well known to both Gondorians and Rohirrim). The elves waited to be called upon if needed.

There was no sign of Halladan for the rest of the evening.

Arwen noted Penny seemed a little out of sorts, and asked if all was well. Penny attempted to bluff it, but elves were ever perceptive and it was Elladan who wondered out loud and with a sympathetic expression if it was the general mood of the camp that was affecting her. Penny was forced to admit it was, though she said nothing about Halladan.

“Perhaps it will be of comfort to some, a means of healing,” Arwen said to Penny. “Many will talk more freely than they ever might have in other circumstances.”

“And for those that will not talk? That refuse, I mean, or find it beyond their ability?”

Elladan gave Penny a knowing look but said nothing. Elrohir glanced at his brother, as if Elladan had said something out loud to him (though he had not), and nodded in agreement. Both then shook their heads despairingly. They knew Halladan well, as did all the elves from Imladris. Arvain and Penny were not the only ones to have their eye on him with some concern.

“Oh, give them time. Who can say how they might yet react?”

Arwen smiled and took Penny’s hand, and Penny was not sure why but she felt comforted for a moment.

Once in her tent, however, Arwen’s infectious optimism began to fade and Penny could not sleep. Her chats with Halladan and Arvain were once more running round Penny’s head (along with everything else) and unsettling her. It was all none of her business, perhaps, but at the same time these two men were now her guardians: they were in her life for life (if she stayed for life, that was) and, even though she had only known them for something over a month, she felt that their commitment to her meant this business involved her as much as it did anyone else, whether she (or they) liked it or not. They had taken her on as some sort of adopted or honorary family in a way, which meant it was only right she give a damn, never mind what Halladan seemed to think.

She got up off her bedroll, pulled a dress on over her head, grabbed Mireth’s spare shawl and headed out.

She was not sure where she was going. It just seemed pointless to lie there staring at the tent walls not sleeping and with a thousand and one worries running about her head driving her crazy. She was seriously tempted to track down Naurdir and wheedle a jug of wine out of him to have to herself – it was certainly what old Penny would have done – but perhaps it was not the best thing to do. She wandered amongst the elvish tents, debating whether if not a jug then one large cup of wine might not be just the thing to help her sleep and without really thinking about where she was going.

“Best not go wandering off into the dark,” a voice said. “The last thing we need is to have to get up a search party in the middle of the night.”

Penny was brought up to a halt. She looked around her and realised that she had actually stepped beyond the last tent and was several feet into the darkness. Ahead of her a tall figure showed up dark against the stars. She had recognised his voice.

“Well, at least you are talking to me now,” she said.

There was a pause and then a suitably conciliatory tone from Halladan. “Yes, forgive me if I was short with you earlier. It was not my intention. It is just…”

“I know. I mentioned things you would rather not think about. My apologies.”

“Accepted, though I should apologise to you. I realise you were only speaking from your concern for me. I should not have reacted as I did.”

“Also accepted. We are still friends then?”

He was close enough now that she could see him smile.

“What are you doing out here? Did you get lost?”

“No. I could not sleep. I was just walking around without thinking where I was going. I was wondering if I should get some wine.”

Halladan raised an eyebrow.

“I felt in need of a drink.”

“And you think that will help you?”

“We have a saying: ‘the pot calling the kettle black’. Does that make any sense to you?”

Perhaps she was more tired than she realised, given she seemed not to think twice about poking the bear.

“I can guess at the sense of it,” Halladan said slowly. He paused. “You are being rather blunt.”

“You strike me as a man who speaks plainly, Halladan. I had assumed you preferred others to do the same.”

Again that smile, this time with a few nods of the head. “It was a fair point well made,” he conceded.

“Should you be getting back on guard? I mean, am I allowed to talk to you?”

He laughed then. “Of course. I can still keep my ears and eyes open while talking a little.”

A man? Multitasking? Well, wasn’t he the novelty!

Penny suppressed the urge to snigger.

“I take it,” he continued, “that you wish to stay for a little while? I am not sure I make good company at the moment, but you are welcome, though you would be better served by trying to get some rest.”

He was clearly making a monumental effort to make up for his previous lack of good grace. Penny did not doubt for a moment he would probably prefer to be left alone. Even so, he had made the offer and she would appreciate a distraction from her thoughts as well as the pleasure of his company. So when he turned back and began to walk slowly a little way from the camp Penny came alongside him.

“Were it not for the fact that you are on guard duty, I could say the same of you: that you would be better served by trying to get some rest.” She glanced up at him. “You have been looking tired of late, Halladan. Are you sleeping at all?”

Halladan’s jaw went tight. “Pen-ii,” he said in a warning tone, “please, can we leave this?”

“Forgive me, Halladan, but if I have noticed, others who know you better than I will have done so also.”

“Do you think I do not know that?” His voice was strained, as if speaking through clenched teeth.

Penny shut up, and they walked in silence for a few minutes more, but she was unable to restrain herself. He was being pleasant and open for the first time in days and she was determined to have her say.

“Arvain is worried about you.”

Halladan stopped and looked at her. He did not need to ask the question.

“He spoke to me…” She could see the change in his face. “Do not be angry, Halladan! He said little and only did so at all because he heard me speak of such things in Minas Tirith that time. I stood by my promise to you, I swear it. I gave him no indication of what I know or how. Do not blame Arvain, either. He was not seeking advice, merely… explaining.”

“Explaining?” Halladan’s voice was taut with emotion, though whether anger or something else Penny was not entirely sure.

“He saw me trying to talk to you earlier and how you reacted.”

There was a beat. “Ah.” Another pause. “And what did you say to him?”

“That he should talk to you.”

Halladan gave an exasperated sigh.

“He effectively told me I was mad, you will be pleased to hear, that you would probably be furious if you knew he had spoken to me and that my suggestion he talk to Aragorn or Mithrandir was even worse. He says he will wait for you to talk to him or sort it out yourself.”

Halladan said nothing. Penny could not tell what his reaction to all this was. Well, here went nothing, she supposed…

“Can I express my opinion without losing my head?”

Penny took Halladan’s continued silence as a ‘yes, if you have to.’

“I think you are both wrong, and both as stubborn as each other. Of course, that is only my opinion and I could be just as wrong as I think you both are, but there you are.”

She began to walk again, not wanting to wait around to hear him explode, but the explosion never came. After a few seconds she realised he also was not following her. She stopped and turned back to see him standing stock still where she had left him.

“Halladan?”

“What would you have me say to him, Pen-ii?”

It was a rhetorical question and his tone was not aggressive or accusatory. It was not even angry. He sounded almost deflated, not defeated exactly, more resigned to a seemingly hopeless situation. It was certainly clear he was at a loss to know what talking to his brother would achieve.

“There is nothing I need to say to him. He knows and I know, and that is an end to it. With time it will pass, perhaps, and if not, then I am more marred than I could ever have dreamed it was possible to be.”

Penny walked back towards him.

“Marred? How are you marred?”

Halladan opened his mouth to speak, but Penny rattled on straight across him.

“What in Arda are you talking about? So your leg is damaged, yes, but it will heal and heal well enough that you can consider yourself more fortunate than many. Yes, you saw and experienced terrible things that distress you, but that does not make you less of a man, Halladan, and how dare you think that it does! Perhaps I did not know your father well, but I can well believe he would be livid if he heard you speak this way! You would not dream of saying it of any of the other men who are suffering like you,” she added, waving her hand vaguely at the camp as she did so, “so why about yourself?”

“Because it is how I feel? It is how every one of those men you talk about so glibly feel!” Penny could hear the momentary flash of anger in his voice, though it quickly changed to bitterness. “I cannot change how I am, or even control it, Pen-ii! How can that make me anything close to the man I used to be?”

For a moment they stood still, Penny trying to find the right words and Halladan no doubt taking her silence for agreement. He turned away sharply as if to begin walking once more, but Penny’s voice stayed him.

“I think that it is only to be expected that you should feel that way. It does not mean it is true, but it is entirely understandable that you think it is. But then just to voice it, if only to a few who know you well, who already know what you cannot express, that may help.”

Halladan had turned to look at Penny as she spoke and she could see he was looking confused and sceptical. She was aware she was not expressing herself well, let alone that what she was suggesting was probably an utterly alien concept to him: burly great Dunadan warriors did not ‘share’ or ‘express their feelings’ or generally do much that was not burly or manly, it would seem.

“At the moment, for example, Arvain knows perfectly well that you are suffering, but he dares not mention it to you, and you refuse to talk to him about it. He wants to help you if he can, or at least be there for you as a brother who loves you, but you will not let him, which, in my opinion, is not helping him or you. It is as if there were a huge oliphaunt sitting in your tent with the pair of you and you are both trying to ignore it and pretend it is not there.”

Halladan looked at her. “Is that another one of your language’s turns of phrase?”

She nodded. He shook his head wearily and with the hint of a smile, or it could be Penny imagined it.

“You understand the point I am making, though? Once everyone says ‘Oh, look, there is an oliphaunt in the corner,’ then something can be done about it, even if the decision is to allow the oliphaunt to carrying on sitting there, minding its own business.”

Halladan had an expression on his face that indicated he thought Penny was losing her marbles.

“Could we stop talking about oliphaunts sitting calmly in tents, do you think? Trust me, they are anything but calm.”

“Oh, small ones are very sweet. In my time they are a slightly different, smaller breed. It is the males you need to watch out for – they will charge you and can be dangerous - but the others are lovely. Very intelligent animals. Killed for their…” She made ‘tusk’ motions.

“Tusks.”

“‘Tusks’?” She repeated the unfamiliar word. “The long, curved pointed things…” She saw Halladan nodding. “Ah, then, yes, tusks. Very sad.”

Halladan blinked.

“How did we get onto the subject of oliphaunts?”

“My apologies.” She smiled sheepishly. “I am serious, though, Halladan. I cannot tell you what to do, how best to cope, but you need to accept and acknowledge that you are not well and that you are finding it difficult to cope with what you experienced. And I do not count myself in this. You were forced to admit it to me due to what happened on the Pelennor. No, what I am talking about is you accepting it as a truth and then admitting it from your own strength of will to those who need to hear you say it. I suspect that is all Arvain wants and needs: for you to just say it out loud to him… or it will be a start at least. If you do not want him to refer to it again, or help you, or discuss it, then that is your choice, but at least tell him, include him in what is happening in your life. Not only him, I would imagine. Do you not think Aragorn is aware of how you are hurting? Or Faelon? Or Lindir?”

Halladan said nothing.

“Halladan, let me put it this way: if your situations were reversed, if it were Arvain who was suffering as you are now, if it had been him who had been there instead of you, would you not want to help him, want him to talk to you, even if it was just to acknowledge that he was hurting terribly and that he needed time to deal with it alone? Not that I think that trying to deal with it alone would be the best way to deal with it, myself,” she added, “but I am no expert…”

There was a very long pause during which time Halladan seemed to find the grass near Penny’s feet incredibly interesting and then the landscape somewhere off to his left. Then he nodded slowly several times before he finally looked at her.

“In your time, what do they do for…?”

“I cannot tell you. Healing is greatly advanced in my time, as you know – there is much that can be done and many illnesses cured – but I am not a trained healer, I have little to no knowledge of how it works. I am sorry.” She shrugged. “I imagine it depends on the person and whatever they have experienced that made them ill. Some will have medicine, some will talk and that may well involve actually talking about whatever lead to the illness in the first place…” She saw Halladan flinch. “I do not know if that is case or if it would work for everyone,” she added hastily. “For some it may be enough to find ways of coping, but with openness and honesty about what they are suffering, not pretending nothing is happening and hoping it will all go away by itself. Bottling things up does not help. Nor does drink, as you yourself just said. You have to accept this is happening to you and then find ways of dealing with it…” Halladan made an exasperated, restless movement. “No, Halladan, practical ways, not snapping at people day and night or downing as much ale as you can lay your hands on.”

“Am I to expect a lot of this sort of thing now that I am your guardian?”

“A lot of what sort of thing?”

“You talking to me as if you were my mother.”

“What?!”

“It is true!”

“You asked me and I answered you!”

He hesitated for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose I did. It was my own fault.”

He started walking once more, Penny falling in step beside him, their path running parallel with the camp and the nearest line of tents. Halladan glanced sideways at her.

“I… I thank you for being frank with me.”

She smiled and he gave a faltering smile in return before turning back to look ahead of them once more as they walked.

“Halladan,” Penny asked, curiously, “why are you not biting my head off?”

“I did a lot of thinking this evening. I realised I had been unfair to you earlier, so I am trying my best to stay calm.”

“‘Trying your best’? Is it that difficult?”

“It is not easy for me to hear these things, Pen-ii,” he said quietly.

She nodded. That was fair enough.

“And will you act on them?”

He stopped and looked at her. “Do not ask it of me. I told you that before. You asked me to think about what you said to me that day on the Pelennor, and I did. I still do. I will think about what you have said to me this night also. But to act on it… It is contrary to my nature, Pen-ii. For all that I can see some wisdom in what you say, I cannot promise you anything.”

“Halladan, please. This is serious.” Her tone was urgent suddenly, her face earnest as she looked up at him in the darkness. She instinctively grabbed his hand. “I am worried about you. I was worried as soon as I realised what the mood in the camp was these last few days.”

Halladan smiled softly as he looked at her for a moment, then he lifted his hand from her hold on it to her cheek.

“Do not be worried, Pen-ii,” he said gently, “Please. I would not carry that burden also.”

He gave her another sad, gentle smile and then let his hand fall away. He turned back to the camp and began to head towards it.

“It is late. You should get some rest.”

Penny nodded and slowly followed after him. For a few seconds, though, she could still feel the lingering warmth of his hand against her cheek, how soft and gentle his touch had been despite his having found parts of the conversation difficult and his earlier irritation with her. It was quite a nice sensation, and she smiled to herself in the darkness in spite of herself.

They had barely gone more than a few steps when Halladan froze at the same as his head snapped round to the right, though Penny had not heard a thing herself. He held out an arm to stop Penny. He squinted, peering out into the darkness, and as he did so he used his outstretched arm to guide Penny behind him, positioning himself between Penny and whatever it was he had heard. Quickly he switched his stick from his right hand to his left hand and then shoved it backwards, as if offering it to Penny. She took it hesitantly, unsure if she was reading him correctly, but he offered no resistance to her taking hold of it and in fact near dropped it into her hands as he then placed one hand on the pommel of his sword, the other on its scabbard.

Just then the sound of a bird came floating out of the darkness towards them.

Penny was no ornithologist, but to her untutored ear it sounded like some sort of owl as best as she could fathom. However, on hearing it Halladan visibly relaxed. His hands moved away from his sword and he turned back to Penny with an outstretched palm and a smile for his stick. She handed it to him, wondering whether to be relieved or alarmed by what had just occurred. It had all happened so fast she was left slightly bewildered.

“Um..?” was about the best she could manage before Halladan turned back to greet whoever it was that was heading their way.

“Out for a walk, Pen-ii?”

Penny was surprised to realise the approaching shadowy figure was Aragorn. He was wrapped up in a dark cloak entirely covering his finely brocaded tunic, and the hood was up, covering the Elendilmir so no hint of it glinted in the starlight.

“I do hope you are not distracting one of our guards from his duties,” Aragorn continued as he drew near.

“Oh, no, I mean, Halladan said he could do both, I mean talk and guard… I did ask and he said… Did I do something wrong?”

The two men laughed.

“Not in the least, Pen-ii. I have absolute confidence in Halladan’s abilities,” Aragorn said with a smile, glancing at Halladan as he spoke and Halladan acknowledged the compliment with a bow of his head. Aragorn held out his hand and Halladan grasped his forearm.

“Well met. A quiet night, I take it, if you can afford to have company?” Aragorn grinned at Halladan.

“There are many of us on duty, as you know,” Halladan replied. He used his stick to wave out to his right and away from the camp. “There are four ellyn stationed in a line there barely half a mile hence and countless others besides.”

“Indeed.” Aragorn nodded. “And you, Pen-ii? What brings you out into the dark? It is late indeed for you to be abroad. You will rue it tomorrow when you are nodding asleep in the saddle.”

“Very likely. I could not sleep and was wandering mindlessly, and ran into Halladan. He was kind enough to keep me company. I am off to my tent now, though.”

“Ah, good, good. Well, I need to have a word with Halladan, I think. It was him I was seeking out. I have just left the Dol Amroth encampment and it seemed quicker to come round than meander through all the camp.”

Halladan had shot Aragorn a sharp glance at the mention that Aragorn had sought him out in particular to talk to him, though he said nothing.

“I had best leave you to it,” Penny said.

“Let us walk you to the camp, Pen-ii,” Aragorn insisted. “It would be most discourteous not to.”

So the three walked to the nearest tent, which was not more than thirty yards away. They did so in silence. It was not uncomfortable as such, but Penny was very aware that whatever Aragorn wanted to say was not for her ears and that Halladan seemed slightly uneasy: the expression on his face made him look worried or nervous. Penny wondered if she dare hope Aragorn might be about to broach The Unmentionable Subject with Halladan at last.

When they reached the first guy rope of the first tent, Penny did a sort of bow-come-bob in Aragorn’s direction, smiled at Halladan and bade them goodnight. As she hurried off towards her tent, she could just make out Aragorn’s voice drifting over the night air.

“Since you seem to be in a walking mood, Halladan, and I have no desire to cause you to neglect your duties, let us wander back to your post. I have been meaning to speak to you …”

And the rest was lost into silence.

Penny glanced back to see the pair had already wandered off into the night and were now mere indistinct dark figures against the darker trees beyond and the starlit sky.

She saw Halladan only briefly at breakfast. She had been hard to rouse, Mireth having to near shake her awake, and still felt sluggish when she had turned up for the meal only to find most people had already eaten and gone to ready themselves for the day’s travel ahead. Sam and Frodo were still there, of course, since the hobbits point blank refused to travel unless they could eat well and were always amongst the last to help pack things away. When some days previously Penny had pointed out that they had got used to travelling on near empty stomachs at various points on their adventures, Sam had cast her a baleful look and, with Frodo translating, insisted that had been just about one of the worst hardships he had had to endure.

“All the rest I could have borne, for all it was terrible, but to lie awake at night with my stomach rumbling and dreaming of potatoes and cabbages and one of the Gaffer’s apple pies… It fair drove me near to madness, I’ll not deny it.”

Penny had sympathised and passed him a second helping of bread and jam which Sam had accepted most gratefully.

This morning, though, even the two hobbits were nearing the end of their meal.

“Ah, there you are at last!” Frodo smiled broadly. “We were hoping for some tea, but I fear it may be too late. Raz and Kali have already had to leave to get themselves ready.” (The two would often come across to the elvish camp of a morning to share a pot of tea with Frodo, Sam and Penny; since the tea was slowly running short, they had rationed themselves to a pot a day and everyone agreed the breakfast cup was the most important of the day). “We shall have to leave it till this evening or tomorrow.”

Penny shook her head. She felt horrible – still only half awake – and she was buggered if she was going to climb onto a horse feeling this awful without a cup of tea first.

“You overslept?” Naurdir had overheard and was already pouring some water in a small pot and placing it over the fire to boil. Penny nodded and muttered something about not sleeping till late and then not sleeping well.

“You are not sleeping well, either?” Sam asked once Frodo had translated. He sighed. “There is something in the air about the camp of late, and no mistake.”

Glances were exchanged but no one said anything.

Arvain and Halladan soon finished their meals and left. Halladan had smiled at Penny from the opposite edge of the fire as she had sat down, and he made a point of walking past her to bid her good morning as he left. He seemed, well not ‘less tense’ so much as ‘trying to make more of an effort’. Penny wondered if it had anything to do with her conversation with him, or Aragorn’s. Whichever was the case, she was just glad he seemed to be more his usual self.

That day was spent passing through the wood that lay west of the Halifirien beacon. As had happened at all the other beacons so far on their journey, the guards on the Halifirien beacon had come out to watch them, bowing low to their King, holding their hands to the chests as they saw Faramir or other captains amongst the Gondorian nobles they knew, and hanging their heads quietly in respect as the wain carrying Theoden rumbled past.

Once past the beacon the travellers were in Rohan and Gondor behind them. It was a small thing, perhaps, given there was no checkpoint, no ‘border’ as such, but even so to know that her horse was tramping along on Rohirric rather than Gondorian earth lifted Penny’s spirits a little – it put Gondor that much further behind her for the time being.

The change of scenery helped everyone, it seemed, or perhaps it was also the knowledge that they had finally left the home of the Pelennor and the horrors many had witnessed. Lunch seemed a much lighter affair than any mealtime had been for several days, and afterwards Penny was not the only one to wander a little while amongst the trees, and be glad to be able to do so.

That night Halladan actually stayed with the company for a little while but then removed himself to sit alone with his pipe as usual. Penny felt compelled, after their talk the previous night, to join him. She made no mention of anything they had discussed, indeed they hardly said a word to each other, but she sensed that he seemed moderately calmer than he had been, and she was glad to have company that was not trying to cheer her up or entertain her or ask her what was wrong.

At last she felt herself getting tired. As she got up and turned to leave, however, Halladan finally spoke for the first time in quite some while.

“I talked to Arvain.”

Penny stared at him, unable to believe it. He glanced up at her.

“Do not look so surprised.”

“Why should I not look surprised? You seemed so determined that you would do no such thing last night.”

He said nothing for a while, then turned to look out into the dark once more.

“I owed it to him. As you said, if the situation were reversed…” He shrugged.

Penny had to suppress the urge to hug him. Apart from the fact that social niceties dictated it was probably not the ‘done thing,’ she suspected Halladan would be both alarmed and taken aback. She could just imagine him getting all prickly about it and asking her what in Arda she thought she was doing.

She smiled at him, desperate to know how it had gone, but knowing that really would be none of her business. They had still been speaking to each other at breakfast, so it could not have gone that badly.

“Aragorn suggested it might be an idea.”

Ah, so that was it. One thing for little old Penny to suggest it, but quite another for his king, his kinsmen, his father’s best friend and a man of great wisdom and life experience to suggest it, apparently.

Penny tried not to feel slightly hard done by and took comfort in the fact that she and Aragorn had suggested the same thing.

She came to sit down beside Halladan once more.

“And?”

He looked sideways at her.

“None of my business, I know. I do not want to know the details. I just want to know if you think it made any difference.”

He considered for a moment. “I am not used to relying on others, Pen-ii, or even acknowledging that I am unable to cope.”

“You delegate in battle, do you not? You have to rely on others and indicate when you need more support?”

“Hardly the same thing, Pen-ii.”

“Perhaps, but it means there are times when you know you cannot achieve whatever you need to achieve by yourself. This is one such time, that is all.”

There was a soft snort as Halladan blew out of his nose and smiled at the same time.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” The smile broadened.

“What!”

“Nothing. You are right, that is all. Arvain and Aragorn told me much the same thing.” He looked away and it was several moments before he spoke. “I had not realised how much Hirvell’s death… Arvain is still grieving.”

He was finding it hard to express and Penny, reading between the lines, could guess what he was saying. He was still talking though, almost to himself, as if he had momentarily forgotten Penny was there.

“He was so angry,” he murmured. “He did not blame me but I had been the one shouting to Faelon to keep him… I had not wanted him to…”

His voice faded away. Penny waited to see if he would finish his sentence, but he did not.

“Halladan?”

There was no reply.

She looked at him. His gaze seemed fixed somewhere ahead of him. She tilted her head and leaned in a little closer to him.

“Halladan?”

Still no response, and as she looked closely at him she could see his eyes were unfocused and there was the faintest twitch in his face as he looked at Eru knew what.

She understood.

She quietly slipped her hand into his and sat there beside him, not moving or saying anything.

It was quite some time before he stirred, blinking and looking a little dazed, but mostly haggard and distressed if not on the verge of tears. He did not seem to realise Penny had hold of his hand, or not until she gave it a gentle squeeze at which point he looked down at their joined hands with bewilderment and then up at her his mouth slightly agape. She could see the tears in his eyes. She smiled gently, drawing her hand out of his and patting the back of his hand just once.

“Can I leave you safely enough now?” she asked quietly. “Are you recovered?”

He nodded slowly, still looking somewhat dazed and upset, but clearly struggling manfully to keep it all in.

“Good. I am sure you wish to be alone, and I do not want to intrude.” She smiled once more and got to her feet. “Good night.” Then she paused before she added, “May Elbereth protect you and Eru heal you, Halladan.”

She turned to leave but felt him suddenly take hold of her hand once more. She turned back to him. He was not looking at her.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You are most welcome, Halladan.”

Then she turned once more and headed off, leaving Halladan sitting stock still for several moments before his head sank to his knees and his shoulders began to shake.

It has been noted that ‘Corunir’ and ‘Curunir’ (the latter being Saruman’s name in Sindarin) are similar to each other. I should point out that ‘coru-‘ and ‘curu-‘ have completely different meanings: one means ‘cunning’ and the other means ‘skill’. The suffix ‘-nir’ simply means ‘man’. I chose Corunir’s name quite deliberately as being the nearest thing I could fathom that I knew to be good Sindarin as well as giving some indication to his nature. For all Saruman was indeed cunning, his name was given to him by the elves prior to his fall into darkness, and it in fact matches his Maia name (Curumo – also meaning, it is thought, ‘skilled one’) so ‘curu’/skill does not carry the negative meaning that could be implied by ‘cunning’.

I say ‘the Elendilmir’ since that is what would have been called and how Tolkien refers to it in ROTK, but it is worth mentioning that it is, of course, not the original (as I think I have said before in an author’s note not too long ago) and so not the Elendilmir but a copy. The original was lost when Isildur was killed since he was wearing it at the time (see Unfinished Tales).