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Chapter 43 - “Feasting and Farewells”
The following morning was the worst yet in the camp. All the ellith in Penny’s tent seemed desperately sad, and a sad elf is, by and large, a contradiction in terms – they are by nature a happy people – so it was very distressing to see, let alone to have to share a space with them. Penny fled to the Dunedain section of the camp for breakfast. The previous evening had been far less sombre and severe than the first night’s feasting, and soon after Penny had left it had apparently livened up quite considerably. A certain level of decorum and seriousness had been maintained to some extent, but there had also been a huge amount of drinking and loud singing, so she was told. Thus it was that Arvain was not the only one at breakfast who was feeling a little delicate. However, Halladan had little sympathy. While they ate he kept leaning sideways till he was only inches away from Arvain’s ear and then asking him to pass him this or that in a voice that was, frankly, unnecessarily loud. “COULD YOU PASS ME THAT BREAD?” Arvain glared at him. “I might be feeling worse for wear, brother, but I could still quite happily knock you to the ground if you carry on in this manner.” Halladan raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh yes?” He grinned. “I for one would like to see you try.” “Very well.” With a scowl, Arvain jumped to his feet and started undoing the belt on his overtunic. He was in absolute earnest. Already feeling unwell, having had Halladan poke his headache into one of monumental proportions meant he was now in an even worse temper than he had been when he had been awoken by their cousin singing about ‘How Fair The Maids of Arnor Be’ at full volume only a little after dawn. “Sit down,” Halladan said, laughing. “I am not joking, Halladan.” Arvain spoke through gritted teeth, his nose flaring a little. “Get up!” “And I said ‘sit down,’ Arvain.” Halladan’s tone had changed – it was edged with something hard all of a sudden. “You are making a spectacle of yourself. Perhaps your head is still reeling with Rohirric ale this morning. You might be better served by taking a sac of water and going to rest for a few hours more.” Penny had suddenly had a flash of Halbarad as Halladan had spoken – it was exactly his father’s tone. Arvain exploded. “WHY YOU…!” Penny barely even registered Faelon moving, and yet he was there in an instant, standing between the two brothers even as Halladan got to his feet, his eyes blazing nearly as fiercely as Arvain’s. “We are all a little worse for the drink this morning, I suspect. Tempers are short and patience at a minimum. For shame, Halladan, have you never had a bad head yourself of a morning that you do not know better than to goad your brother? Wait… What am I saying? You are brothers, after all.” He laughed, clapping his hands round both men’s shoulders. “What, would you come to blows over a mere hunk of two-day-old bread and have Lady Pen-ii consider you both utterly ridiculous for the rest of her life?” He winked at her as he said this. “No, no. Shake hands, sit down and be done with it. Halladan, stop baiting your brother, and Arvain, stop picking fights until you feel more yourself. There. Let that be an end to it.” Halladan snorted a half laugh, smiled and shook his head as if to say ‘yes, we are being ridiculous, aren’t we?’ He held out his hand and Arvain shook it but with far less grace than his brother was managing. Indeed Arvain did not sit back down but instead grabbed his belt which he had flung to the grass beside him and stalked off back to his tent. Penny noted that he did stop and grab a water-sac on his way, however. She could not help the amused snort that escaped her and glanced up to realise Halladan had spotted it too and was chuckling. She grinned at him and he grinned back. Meanwhile Faelon had wandered back to his spot nearby and was in the middle of talking to two other Dunedain, making some comment about youthful over-indulgence inevitably leading to crankiness over the morning meal. “…Of course the fact that we are running low on pipeweed does not help,” he added. There were nods from those listening. Penny blinked. They were running low on…? Come to think of it, she had noticed they were smoking less. Even the hobbits. Of course they had had to ration the tea too since there was no way it would last the journey to Imladris and they wanted to make it last as long as possible. There was talk of only one pot every other day, but if the tobacco ran out as well… Good grief, it did not bear thinking about! Stuck with grieving elves on one side and a bunch of warriors suffering nicotine cold turkey on the other? What a ‘joyful’ ride north it would be. The thought was enough to put Penny off her breakfast entirely. It was a strange morning. While Edoras was clearly slowly falling back into its daily routine, with people coming and going as they always had to and from the camp with supplies or just to socialise, the elves were the most serious even the Dunedain had ever seen them. Arwen came to be with them all from soon after dawn and spent entire morning and early afternoon till the feast in long conversations, either in small groups or, more often, individually. There would be no time for such prolonged farewells at the feasting, and little time later that night or on the morrow. Tears were shed more than once by her but mostly by those she spoke to as farewells were said. Indeed, while sad and pained to see them sorrowing and at the thought that this would be the last she would see of many there, Arwen remained calm and serene, managing to ease their grief by her stoicism and acceptance but mostly by the clear signs of love’s true happiness upon her. At one point she even came to find the Dunedain, wishing them well and thanking them on her husband’s behalf for the support they had shown him, the part they had played in the War. “You must be glad to be riding north once more. You will have been missed by your families and loved ones. They will be glad to see you, and it will not be overlong before Estel… before Aragorn and I will visit you all.” Penny she spoke to separately. It was after lunch and was not too long before the time to head up to the Meduseld. Penny was unsure what to say at first. “Your Majesty, I… I must thank you … for everything. You have been so kind to me, even from the first. You have been a support even when I barely realised I needed one, such as that time in Lothlorien.” There was so much else she wanted to say, to ask, and yet… “This must be so hard for you.” She said it in a whisper, her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself. Arwen looked down. “I do not regret…” “I know. I know you do not. And they have all had time to grow used to the idea, indeed they knew it was a possibility from the day you and your brothers were born, after all. It still must be hard for you, and for them. Just for today, perhaps, as accepting and as understanding as they all are. Forgive me, it is not my place to mention such things, only…” “No, Pen-ii, I know you know our stories, my story, in intimate detail. Perhaps you have more right than most because of that fact.” They looked each other in the eye, and for a moment or two neither spoke. “You will be happy.” “I know.” “Yours is a great love. What the two of you have… it will go down in history.” “I know.” Penny was weeping in spite of herself. Arwen gave her a slight, sad smile. “I also know it is not me you feel for most deeply, Pen-ii. I will do my best to comfort him when we say our farewells, though it will be bitter indeed…” And only then did Arwen show any chink in her serenity as she paused to gather in her emotions. “He will have my brothers to comfort him also. And my mother when he comes to the West at last.” Penny said nothing. What could she say? Arwen gently took her hand and her voice was slightly thick as she spoke. “It means much to me that his story moves your people so. I cannot regret my choice, nor do I, and he gave his blessing long ago. Let that be a comfort to you, Pen-ii, as you go north to face the rest of your life. You cannot dictate where love will fall, and to deny it is bitterness indeed. Perhaps it is easier for a mortal to do so – they live so briefly, after all – but for an immortal… No. No, it is far, far sweeter for me to love, and love truly, than to have lived an eternity knowing I loved only him and could never love another. That would have broken me utterly, Pen-ii. I would have been lost to my father either way. Such is love.” She let go of Penny’s hand and cupped her cheek. “I hope you might know such a love one day. And it may be you will remember my choice then and understand it that much better: that there are times when you have to accept what fate has decreed shall be, rather than choose the path which, for all it might seem it would cause others less pain, would leave you bereft for all your days and cause those who love you perhaps more pain in seeing you suffer so.” She kissed her brow. “Farewell, sweet Pen-ii. We shall meet again soon. I know it.” Penny watched her go with her cheeks wet with tears. Perhaps the farewells had had some effect of releasing the tension, or perhaps the feast was seen as a brief respite from the prevailing mood, but either way the elves seemed surprisingly buoyant as they headed up to the Meduseld. They were subdued, yes, but no more than they had been the past few days. Arvain had reappeared by mid-morning and, after copious amounts of water and lying in a darkened tent for a couple of hours, seemed much improved, indeed had behaved as if nothing untoward had happened at breakfast at all (though Penny had noticed him wordlessly offer his hand to his brother the moment he had seen him, Halladan taking it and slapping Arvain on the back with a laugh and a shake of the head). The moment they all arrived in the courtyard, it was clear that while tonight was still officially part of the ceremonials, it was going to be more ‘feast’ than ‘wake.’ Already the noise was far louder and more boisterous than it had been on the previous two nights, and the same was true even inside the Meduseld, indeed it had more of the feel of that first feast Penny had attended many weeks before. If nothing else the elves seemed (for the time being, at least) quite grateful for the distraction. As had been the form for the previous two nights, there were ballads, lays and recitations while they ate, but these were far less of the ‘heroes fall in battle’ kind than of the ‘heroes whup the bad guys’ butts’ kind, and involved much joining in and cheering even from the get-go. Some time after the meal had finished, Eomer stood, actually banging the table with a spoon to get everyone’s attention. Given he glanced sideways at his sister before he began, Penny felt she could guess what was coming. Granted it was Theoden’s funeral wake, Eomer admitted, but their uncle had been like a father to Eowyn and so would not begrudge a departure from the norm on such an occasion. He had good tidings, he continued, and wished it to be known in front of such esteemed, noble and fair company. Prince Faramir had declared his love for the Lady Eowyn and asked for her hand, and Eowyn had accepted full gladly and with a joyous heart. They would be trothplighted this very night. As both Eowyn’s brother and her king, Eomer smiled on the union, blessed it and wished them well. The cheer that went up through the Hall as Eowyn and Faramir were then made to stand and have their hands set one into the other by Eomer nearly raised the rafters. Eowyn actually looked a little pink around the gills as a broadly smiling Faramir took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. Then Eomer insisted on toasting the betrothal, and everyone joined him. Aragorn then insisted on toasting them also, which gave everyone another excuse to join in. Faramir, in his turn, then thanked his future brother-in-law and turned to the Hall to swear his love of Rohan, the Rohirrim and Eowyn in particular (which raised another huge cheer), and to toast them all in his turn (which went down very well in the Hall as it was yet another excuse to fill cups to the brim). As the mood at the feast inevitably turned slowly from wake to celebration, as musicians were sent for and the songs became faster and lighter in tone, as tables were pushed back to the sides and others quickly carried away by servants to make way for dancing, many elves took that as their cue to take some air or even to leave entirely. It was not rudeness, merely that for many now was not the time for such levity much as they did not begrudge it of the Rohirrim and Gondorians, indeed were pleased for them. In fact, before they left, many made a point of going over to Faramir and Eowyn and congratulating them on their betrothal, wishing them a happy marriage, long lives and many children. And they meant it too. After all, Faramir had made a very good impression amongst them all in the time they had known him and, as far as Eowyn was concerned, any mortal who not only faced up to the Witchking but cut him down was someone of note and worthy of any elf’s respect – a fact even Rhimlath readily admitted to (and which Merry had had made clear to him to, it has to be said). Of course it did not go unnoticed that both Arwen and Elrond disappeared round about this point, using the sudden flurry of activity to cover their exit. Elladan and Elrohir went with them, not because they needed to take any farewells of their sister but, as family, to be a comfort to them both as best they could be and, as former residents of Rohan who knew the surrounding countryside well, to lead them to the hills where they might have some privacy and take their time to say their farewells undisturbed. Aragorn remained at some remove from the proceedings from that point on, sitting quietly at high table with Gandalf beside him and both Erestor and Glorfindel nearby. It was perhaps no surprise that, for all Gandalf was keeping him company, neither seemed to be in conversation most of the time. In spite of that, however, quite a few elves stayed a while longer, Mireth, Lindir and Rhimlath amongst them. No doubt they were all hoping to distract themselves a little longer and, to that end, Penny found herself dragged off for a dance by Lindir almost as soon as the music began and, the moment Arvain grabbed her for the next dance, Lindir immediately found himself a pretty young lady of Rohan to replace her. However, the poor girl flushed such a violent red all the way through their dance and seemed so incapable of looking him in the eye even once – only stared at his tunic or her own feet – that he actually felt a little guilty afterwards and subsequently danced several rounds with Eleniel instead. An hour or so passed and Penny was actually enjoying herself. The whirl of the dancing and the small amount of ale on a not-exactly-full stomach were giving her a light head: she needed a rest. Lindir laughed and accused her of having no stamina but took her to the side of the Hall nonetheless. He left her in Mireth and Eleniel’s company whilst he attached himself to a small group nearby where Rhimlath was in full flow about something or other to a captive audience of Dunedain and Gondorian nobles. Penny, meanwhile, having sat down between the two ellith, gratefully accepted a sip of Mireth’s wine. However, as she handed the cup back to her she realised Mireth was trying not to laugh while at the same time throwing glances at Eleniel. Penny looked at Eleniel to realise she was in the same sort of state. “What? What is it?” Eleniel bit back a grin. “We think you have an admirer.” “What?! Do not be absurd!” “We do!” Mireth insisted, “And why should it be absurd?” “There is a certain young man who cannot keep himself from looking at you…” “…and every time he thinks you might look in his direction he suddenly turns away in clear embarrassment and confusion…” “… and I even saw him move away from you every time you seemed to get near to him in that last dance with Lindir…” “Well, that only proves that, like many Rohirrim, I suspect, he thinks me a curiosity and someone to be avoided.” Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a glance and shook their heads. “There is more to it than that,” Eleniel persisted. “It is as if he wishes to say something but is shy to do so, or is too timid to approach you.” Penny was intrigued and possibly even a little convinced in spite of herself. She began to look round the Meduseld. “Which is he?” “Do not be so obvious!” Mireth laughed. “Over there.” She nodded her head in the direction of a group of Rohirrim standing beside Elfhelm and Faramir. “The young Rohirric lord.” Penny looked at her scathingly. “‘The young Rohirric lord’? Do you have any idea how many ‘young Rohirric lords’ there are in here?” “Well, he is…” “If you say ‘blond’ I might have to get annoyed,” Penny interrupted and then laughed. “I was going to say ‘tall,’ I will have you know.” Mireth caught Eleniel giving her a sceptical look. “I was! Anyway, the young, tall man of Rohan in the dark green tunic with the golden brocading at the shoulder…” Penny spotted him and as she looked at him something jogged within her memory. He certainly did seem faintly familiar, though why that should be… Perhaps she had danced with him at Minas Tirith? But, no, if he had been in the eored that had travelled with them from Gondor he would seem far more familiar to her, even if by face alone. No, she must have met him the last time she was here, but the only time that really was likely to have been was… Oh, no. Even as it occurred to her that she could only have met him when she was drunk as a skunk, Eleniel suddenly spoke. “I am sure you danced with at least one Rohirric lord when we were here last, did you not? Could that be him?” And it all fell into place. Yes, she had definitely danced with someone, she was sure of it. It could not have been anyone other than one of the Rohirrim since she was sure one of the elves would have mentioned it before now (given the state she had been in), so that meant… At that moment he glanced in her direction and their eyes met. He looked nearly as alarmed by it as she felt, it had to be said, but he recovered quickly and smiled politely, inclining his head by way of greeting and acknowledgement. Then he looked down, clearly faintly embarrassed, then back to his friends, then back to her again only to realise she was still looking at him, and then back to his friends again. “Go over to him.” Eleniel nudged her. “What?! Are you insane? No!” “Eleniel,” Mireth countered, “I am not sure that…” “If he will not summon up the courage to approach her, then…” “True, but I am not sure if in Rohirric circles women can…” “Mireth, I am only suggesting she go over to greet him. The rest would be up to him.” “Well, there is that. It would be only polite, given they have now noticed each other, after all, and if they have already danced together before now…” “I am sitting right here, you know!” “He is still throwing glances in this direction, Pen-ii…” “Go, Pen-ii, while the opportunity presents itself.” “After all, it might do you good to have a man showing you some romantic attention.” “What?!” Penny could not have looked more stunned. “Oh, I agree, Mireth,” Eleniel chimed in. “Nothing better, frankly, than feeling a little flattered by someone’s attention, innocent as it might be, and even though nothing will come of it…” “And I am fairly sure this is the same man I noticed glancing in Pen-ii’s direction last night and the night before…” “Oh, this is ridiculous! Will the pair of you please be quiet?!” Penny was feeling horribly uncomfortable and embarrassed, but glancing up once more to find she had caught the man looking in her direction yet again, she felt duty did indeed compel her to do something, if only to try and prove to him that she did actually remember him and had not completely ignored him for two whole nights because she had been so drunk last time they had met that she could not even now remember his name. Besides which it got her away from Eleniel and Mireth who were both blithely ignoring her requests for them to be quiet and were still praising the delights of ‘dancing with a male who only had eyes for you’ to the hilt. It was making her stomach squirm just listening to them. She stood up and made her way across to him (and tried to ignore the excited squeaks of delight from behind her as she did so). Time to try her appalling Westron… “My lord? Forgive if to interrupt. We are meeting before, no?” The man was staring and blinking at her in what could only be described as acute discomfort as he realised she was actually talking to him and him alone. He nodded then smiled a little nervously and bowed his head graciously. “Indeed. I had the pleasure of a dance with you, Lady Pen-ii.” Someone behind him stifled a snigger but Penny did not notice. There was a slightly awkward pause. “You are fully recovered from your illness, I hear,” he said at last. “That is good news, indeed.” “I am thanking you, yes.” Good grief, did everyone know? “Fortunate I am journeying with elves. Elves big healers they are.” “Yes, indeed. They have proved themselves as such in their visits here. We are most grateful to them.” It was probably the most painful episode of making small-talk known to man. Penny noticed he kept glancing this way and that. She would have said he did not want to be seen with her except that… except that there had been something in the way that he had smiled at her that had been genuinely warm. That and he seemed to be talking to her chest quite a bit. At that moment, Elfhelm, standing nearby, spotted her and greeted her, asking her if she was enjoying the evening. Penny thanked him and then took the opportunity to congratulate Faramir and wish him well. “I thank you, Lady Pen-ii. And I in turn must wish you well with the Dunedain. We shall miss your company in Minas Tirith, but I know you will be amongst a good and noble people.” Elfhelm nodded his agreement of Faramir’s assessment of the Dunedain but as the young man listened to this exchange he seemed to have, if anything, turned slightly pale. “Dunedain?” he asked, somewhat hesitantly. However, he got no further as Elfhelm, bold as brass and with several tankards of ale behind him, clapped him on the back and asked if he was going to ask Lady Pen-ii for a dance or not. “Dithering about like some love-sick teen, boy? For shame!” It had been said in Rohirric so Penny had had no hope of understanding, but it still made the young man wince and his friends laugh heartily. He was left with little option given she had come to him and made polite conversation (and clearly had no memory of what had occurred and had been kept in the dark by her friends), given Elfhelm himself had suggested it, given, indeed, the future brother-in-law to the King himself was watching and had just spoken to her with some kindness and friendship. “But of course,” the young man murmured as held out his hand to Penny with the best smile he could manage given he was probably thinking now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow him, “Would you allow me the honour?” Penny actually felt very flattered. After all, he was not bad looking and had, apparently, been shooting looks at her for the entire evening, so she finally allowed herself to believe a little of what Mireth and Eleniel had been suggesting was the case. Perhaps he did like her a little. She accepted his offer gratefully and let him lead her to the dancing area. He was perfectly charming as they danced. He was not overly friendly, perhaps, but certainly courteous and polite. She put his slight reticence down to shyness; some men were like that with women, after all. At one point she caught Eleniel and Mireth looking at her, grins on their faces and ‘I told you so’ expressions in their eyes. She just looked away shyly and tried not to laugh. At about the same time, however, only a few feet away from Mireth and Eleniel, Lindir was staring open-mouthed in astonishment and growing rage. Rhimlath was still deep in conversation with the small group of Dunedain and Gondorians, boring the breeches off them about some finer detail regarding Gondorian ship-building methods that he had discovered during his researches in the library at Minas Tirith. Lindir quietly said his name through gritted teeth. Rhimlath looked up, excused himself and turned to Lindir. Lindir said nothing, just gestured with a slight nod of the head in Penny’s direction. Rhimlath looked, could not at first see what it was Lindir was clearly so very annoyed about, and then… “How DARE he?!” His voice was cold as steel. “My sentiments exactly,” Lindir snarled. Halladan had been amongst the group Rhimlath had been talking to and now stepped over to the pair of ellyn. Clearly something was up. He looked in the direction they were both directing furious gazes and, with some concern, realised they seemed to be looking in Penny’s direction. He could see nothing untoward, however, given she was dancing with a young Rohirric soldier who he knew had fought with them on the Pelennor and at the Black Gate. “What is the matter?” Lindir and Rhimlath exchanged a glance, as if mutually realising this could be delicate given Halladan was Penny’s guardian, and yet at the same time realising he had to be told. It was Lindir who explained exactly what had gone on that fateful night, what Penny had said (Halladan winced as he listened), how it had been misinterpreted (not that Halladan had really needed to have it explained to him), how the man had responded to the gentle suggestions that he was mistaken (to which Halladan raised first one eyebrow, then two) and what Rhimlath’s response to him had been (for which Halladan thanked Rhimlath with the utmost sincerity). By the time Lindir had finished Halladan was easily as livid as they were to know the culprit was right at that moment dancing with Penny so brazenly. It would not do to cause a scene, especially given Penny had no memory of the events that night (she would not have been dancing with the man if she did), and besides which the dance was just then coming to an end anyway. Halladan could take her to one side, quietly insist she not dance with him again and that would be an end to it. Of course, as the dance ended Penny, emboldened, briefly wondered (if not hoped, though she would never have admitted it) if the man of Rohan might ask her for a second dance but instead he offered to walk her to her seat. Penny thanked him, and began to head off in that direction. As the man turned to follow her, he finally clocked who was standing near to the little bench Penny was heading for. He paled and swallowed. Hard. Lindir, Rhimlath and Halladan glared furiously back at him. Penny, realising, perhaps, that he was not keeping step with her, turned back and smiled encouragingly at him and he, coming to, forced a smile back at her and hurried to catch up, though once walking alongside her he seemed to go slower and slower with each step. Just at that moment, Arvain appeared at Halladan’s elbow with a tankard of ale for him. He looked round to see what they were all staring at and immediately recognised the Rohirric lord with Penny, just as Halladan had done before him. He stepped forward and greeted him warmly, taking his hand and slapping him on the back as if he were an old friend and brother-in-arms (which he was). “Ah, just had a turn on the floor with our Pen-ii, have you? Good, good.” The young man seemed unable to respond. He just kept throwing alarmed glances at Lindir and Rhimlath. “She is not so bad a dancer, is she?” Arvain grinned at Penny as he spoke. She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping he would not choose this moment to show her up. “With a bit more practise she could do very well indeed, I say. Why do you not take her for another dance, eh? After all, as her guardian, I have a say in who she can dance with and who not, and one such as you…” “Her guardian?” The man boggled at him. He glanced once more at Halladan, understanding that much better now why he looked as livid as the two ellyn. “Oh, yes. Both Halladan and myself. She is travelling to live with us in the north.” All the man could manage was an ‘oh.’ Or rather his mouth made the shape of an ‘oh’ but no sound came out. That he did not seem to be jumping at the opportunity to take her for a second dance seemed to tell Penny that she was a disappointment to him or more likely that perhaps he remembered only too well that she had been utterly bladdered the last time they had met and was embarrassed to have much to do with her. It dawned on her that, if that was the case, she had probably put him in an impossible position by approaching him at all. Since Arvain now seemed to be monopolising the conversation, she thought a ‘cut-and-run’ job might be safest. He could always approach her later for a second dance if he so wanted given the ice had been broken between them, but somehow she suspected it would not happen. “I am thanking you, my lord. Very good you are being to dance. It was pleasure to be again seeing you.” She faltered and switched to Sindarin. “Arvain, could you apologise for me, I think I might have placed him on the spot a little by going over to him.” There was a splutter next to her. “You went over to him?” “Yes, Halladan. Was that wrong? Eleniel and Mireth said… Well, it does not matter. I thought I recognised him and was fairly sure we had met before. I simply went to greet him – I did not want him to think me rude, after all, by simply ignoring him. I think he perhaps felt he had little choice than ask me to dance after that.” She turned back to Arvain. “Thank him for me. He was most polite.” She smiled at the young Rohirric noble once more, then turned tail and fled. While Lindir, Rhimlath and Halladan, now better understanding the situation, tried to turn down their anger a notch, Arvain was giving a brief summary of what Penny had just said to the young man. In return the young man, without thinking, made a show of saying that nothing had delighted him more than asking Penny for a dance and that she had done nothing to force him into it until, realising the import of what he was saying, he glanced in horror at the three males nearby, muttered something about how he really needed to see a man about a dog on the other side of the Golden Hall and would they excuse him. “Of course, my friend, of course,” Arvain replied breezily with a smile, “but mark you I shall find you out later. We shall have a drink together, for old times’ sake. A man who fought with me is a friend indeed. Such is the way of my people.” The man nodded and thanked him saying he would look forward to it, then paused, turned, gave a swift nod and a murmured ‘my lords’ in the direction of Lindir, Rhimlath and Halladan, and then fled nearly as fast as Penny had done. “And dance with Lady Pen-ii whenever you so choose,” Arvain called after him with a grin. He turned back to find his brother and the two ellyn glaring at him “What? What did I say?” Mireth and Eleniel refused to believe that the man had not been wholly delighted with his dance with Penny and refused to listen Penny’s insistence that he had seemed anything other than awkward and embarrassed. It was only because he had felt pressured by Lord Elfhelm, they said, and then to be confronted by her guardians immediately afterwards, well, it was all too much. After all, it was not like she was staying on in Rohan, so it was not like anything could go any further than a few dances, so it probably all seemed a little heavy-handed. Penny allowed them to soothe her self-consciousness and almost believed them. The evening passed. The elves slowly drifted away one by one. Penny tried not to think about whatever anguish was going on somewhere in the nearby hills, though she did have a very long, quiet session with Eleniel in a corner somewhere, telling her how she was going to miss her terribly when they parted in the morning. “Oh, I shall not be gone too long. After all I will be coming north before they sail. I shall see you then. Mireth will look after you. She always has.” Penny nodded. Eleniel hugged her and they both wept a little. Nor were they the only ones. As the night went on more and more people seemed to be taking their leave of the friends they had made during the War or afterwards. Merry was in the company of Rohirrim for most of the evening, and Pippin made a point of speaking to every Gondorian there, though he stayed longest, perhaps, with Beregond, remembering him to his son and wishing him well. Similarly occupied were Legolas and Gimli, who knew well both Rohirrim and Gondorians there, and Frodo and Sam who had made many friends in Minas Tirith during their long stay there. Being who they were, the two hobbits found themselves in much demand for much of the evening since nearly everyone wanted to shake their hands and bid them farewell, whether they knew them well or not. It was getting later and Penny felt she had better head for the camp fairly soon. She decided to have one last dance, this time trying to persuade Halladan that his leg was that much better these days that he could manage it and, frankly, the exercise would be good for him. Faelon laughed and told him to listen to his ‘young mother hen’ till Halladan relented at last and let Penny take him by the hand and off to the dance area. Halladan, Faelon and Arvain said they would walk her back. They wanted to say their last remaining farewells first, and Penny felt it only right she do the same, seeking out Eowyn and the ladies of Gondor to do exactly that, and also keeping her eyes peeled for Fimorndir. Arvain, Faelon and Halladan said they would meet her at the top of the steps outside the doors. At long last, farewells made, Penny wove her way through the groups of people to the side of the dancing area. Just as she passed by the last of the huge pillars that held up the ceiling before she reached the open doors, she suddenly heard a familiar voice to her right. “Ah. Lady Pen-ii. What, no farewell fr’m you, I take it?” Corunír sounded drunk. Very drunk. The sort of drunk, in fact, where you can convince yourself that black is white and that all your problems are everyone else’s fault and nothing whatsoever to do with you. He had indeed been humiliated by Penny’s reaction to him the previous night. In that moment it had become immediately apparent that the glare she had given him that first night during the feast had not been his imagination. He could only assume that her ‘guardians’ had seen fit to tell her what Fimorndir had overheard. As some are wont to do when found out and, deep down, know they are in the wrong, Corunír had tried to convince himself that he was, if not in the right, then not nearly as black as he was being painted. Drinking heavily all evening had helped, of course. By the time he was well into his second jug of ale he had convinced himself that Fimorndir had been mistaken in what he had heard, that while it was true, yes, that he had considered how much it would annoy his mother and provide a laugh to his friends if he had wooed Penny, he had also genuinely found her not unpleasing on the eye, and who could say what might have been if she had been allowed time to succumb to his obvious charms. A kiss or two might not have gone amiss, but no. No, thanks to the interference of others she now saw fit to treat him no better than a cur. Him! A lord of Gondor! And she a mere… mere… whatever she was! Penny tried to ignore him and walk on past. “Oh, tha’s right. Ignore me. Such manners, mi’lady. How becomin’ of a friend of the King and Queen themselves.” It was spat out. Venomous. Penny snapped. “Manners?!” she hissed, her jaw clenched tight with fury, “You dare talk to me of manners?! What right, what RIGHT do you have, Corunír, to even talk to me, let alone of such things and in such a manner?! Have you no shame?!” “Why are you bein’ like this? What did I ever do to you? I, who only ever showed you friendship and warmth! It is unjust, Pen-ii!” Penny could not believe the sheer balls of the man. “Unjust?! Are you in earnest?! Do you think I do not know what you truly thought of me? That you were considering courting me solely for your own amusement?!” “And who told you that, eh?” Others were turning to stare now, and it was likely as not that alcohol made him feel he could try and brazen this out in the face of those who did not know the truth of it all. “Lor’ Arvain? Lor’ Hall’dan? Want to keep you away fr’m filthy southerners so you’ll marry one of their own, p’rhaps?” In normal circumstances, as a trained soldier and sometime wrestler, he would have seen the slap coming and blocked it easily. Given he was still upright only because he was leaning against the pillar, it caught him entirely by surprise, leaving a momentary ringing in his ears and a bright red mark upon his cheek that stung like mad. He stared at her in a mixture of astonishment and outrage. Penny glared at him, absolutely livid. Then she turned on her heel and headed off towards the door. Perhaps the slap had shaken some sense into him. Perhaps the stares and open mouths of those nearby had embarrassed him into thinking he should at least make a show of trying to salve things over. Whatever the reason, as Penny made to leave, she felt him grab hold of her forearm. “Lady Pen-ii! Please! Wait!” “Get your hands OFF me!” She tried to pull her arm away but he was stronger than her and desperate to try and make some sort of public amends. “Please, just listen… AAARGH!” The hand that had closed around his wrist was indeed squeezing entirely too tight. It made him let go of his hold on Penny’s forearm, however, so had achieved its purpose, but Arvain seemed to be undecided as to whether to let it go or just keep bending it back until Corunír’s arm broke entirely. Faelon put one arm around Penny’s shoulder, quietly saying she should come with him, and exchanging a glance of cold fury with Halladan as he did so. As he led Penny to one side, out of the way, she glanced back in time to see Halladan quietly telling his brother to let go of Corunír. He had to tell him three times, though, and even then Arvain only did so reluctantly. Corunír slid to the floor, holding his wrist and whimpering. Halladan reached down and grabbed him by the neck of his tunic, hauling him to his feet before turning him and shoving him forward in one fluid movement. “Move.” “How dare you talk to me like this…!” Penny winced. Bad move. Corunír really was stupid, wasn’t he? Halladan grabbed him once more and pulled him so close their noses nearly touched. “I will talk to you in whatever manner I see fit, Corunír,” he growled. “We can either go and see His Majesty right away or we can take a little detour outside for an hour first. The choice is yours.” There seemed to be a few seconds when it honestly looked like Corunír was going to show he did not have the brains he was born with by trying to stand up to Halladan, insult him or hit him. Any of which would have necessitated Halladan showing he had extraordinary will power in not just killing him on the spot. That he had managed to restrain Arvain was perhaps proof of that in itself, but it would not do to not appear to be just, fair and absolutely in the right on this. Corunír seemed to wilt slightly. Halladan nodded slowly, loosening his hold a little. He shoved him once more. “Move.” This time Corunír did so without a word. What happened next Penny did not stay to see. Arvain asked her what had happened, so she told him, and he, his face black as thunder, headed off to join his brother (who even now had made it to the top table and was presenting Corunír to Aragorn) whilst Faelon walked her back to the camp. In spite of herself she worried that Corunír had got himself into very serious trouble. She said as much to Faelon, insisting he had not hurt her, nor had he seemed likely to. “I think he was trying to apologise. I do not know how sincerely, perhaps, but his tone…” “Do not worry yourself, Pen-ii. Aragorn is as just and fair a man as you could ever hope to meet. Corunír will be dealt with in a manner befitting what he did and said; no more, no less.” He glanced at her, as if assessing her for a moment. “I shall let Aragorn know your concerns, though, if that would reassure you.” “Yes. Yes, it would, Faelon. Thank you. I know what he did was inexcusable, it is simply that… Oh, I do not know. I suppose he reminds me of my brother too much. He deserves punishment, but I do not want it simply to breed resentment rather than teaching him the error of his ways.” “I understand. At the same time, you cannot force a man to be other than what he is. He can change, perhaps, but only if he truly wants to. I agree it should be something that matures him, though I am amazed war did not do that for him.” They fell into silence then. The camp seemed eerily still when they got there. No one was singing amongst the elves, nor even talking. Penny slept alone in her tent that night and even then she did not sleep well. Only at dawn was she aware of Mireth and one or two of the ellith finally coming to get some rest. She lifted her head and looked at Mireth questioningly. Mireth did not need to be asked. “Yes. They have returned.” That was all she said, but the manner in which she said it, the utter sadness in her tone, made tears come to Penny’s eyes as she wondered exactly what state Elrond must be in right now.
With thanks to the several who pointed out the Bergil/Beregond mix-up. It's now corrected. *thwaps self*
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