My sincere apologies for the length of time it has taken to get this chapter out. Rest assured that, no matter how long it might take, this fic is still being written. If ever something happened which meant I had to take a break from it, then I would let you know by leaving a message to that effect on my profile. Otherwise, even if it’s a slow process, I am determined to get this fic finished. I'm just sorry RL is such that writing time (or effective writing time) has been so very limited of late.

Chapter 46 – “Those Who Wait”

The hall, whilst magnificently grand in its sheer size, had clearly seen better days. There was little or no ornamentation beyond that inherent within the original stonework itself and whilst a few standards and banners hung high on the walls, most looked faded and worn. The floor was tiled but several of the tiles had cracked and been mortared back in whilst others had been replaced with poor imitations or something entirely different that was almost but not quite the same colour.

Penny did not notice such details in particular, only the pervasive sense that it added to her already subdued mood. It did not seem run down so much as reminiscent of a faded glory. The place was functional, practical, and not used to such glorious company as currently sat at the long rows of tables.

By the time she, Legolas and Lindir had reached the hall, the evening meal was in full swing. The atmosphere was not jolly, perhaps, but certainly amiable enough. Penny slid into a space between Lindir and Celebdor and let the conversation wash over her. She ate little.

The meal merged into a sociable drinking session. People remained seated for the most part and chatted, sharing flagons of wine or ale, whilst one of the Rohirrim stood up near the top table and told The Tale of the Battle of the Hornburg in which Aragorn’s name featured just as heavily as those of Eomer and Theoden. Mention too was made of the bravery of Gimli, the valour of Legolas, as well as the wondrous arrival with the dawn of Erkenbrand, Gandalf and the huorns.

It was in Westron, so chunks were unfathomable to Penny, but she caught the gist of much of it, and listened as best she could, hoping it would provide a distraction from the sense of deep melancholy somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

It was a better distraction to watch others in the hall, however. The hobbits were sitting next to Gimli on the opposite side of the hall to Penny and she could see Pippin digging Gimli in the ribs every time his name was mentioned which seemed to both embarrass him and make him swell with pride a little. She could also see Merry twisting in his seat to try and catch sight of Legolas when he was mentioned in a rather lengthy passage praising his skill with a bow. She knew when he had spotted him at last because a broad grin spread over his face. Legolas, seated on the other side of Lindir to her, chuckled quietly as he caught Merry’s eye and shook his head.

One or two of the Dunedain seemed to be unable to keep in their seats and were walking slowly up and down the length of the hall, tankards in hand, occasionally stopping to chat with seated comrades. They seemed restless, and it struck Penny that it was unlikely to be the mood of the place or memories affecting them since, she reasoned, if that were the case they would have simply removed themselves from the proceedings entirely or else sat quietly in a corner drinking heavily, pulling on a pipe…

And then Penny realised.

Now she looked round she could not see one person smoking.

Well, that would explain the slight case of the fidgets Arvain and Halladan’s cousin seemed to have at the far end of her table. He was tearing a piece of bread apart apparently without even being aware he was doing so.

The orator was now listing the heroes who had fallen, and Penny decided that was her cue to leave. It was not that she would find it too distressing to listen to, rather that she had already had her moment of grief out there on the Wall and would quite like to have a break, thanks ever so.

She murmured her apologies to those sitting near her and went to find Mireth, since there was no way she would find her way back to their room on her own. The inside of the Burg was like a rabbit warren.

She walked down the hall, nodding at friends in amongst those still seated as she did so. She caught Halladan’s eye at one point, though he was seated on the other side of the hall from where she was. He smiled and nodded his head and she returned the gesture.

As she did so, however, Penny heard her name and noticed Erestor beckoning her over. Aragorn and Gandalf were seated with him.

“You are leaving, Pen-ii?”

“Yes, I am not much in the mood for company this evening. I shall retire to my room and a book.”

“Ah.” Erestor smiled approvingly at the idea of her finding solace in reading.

“We saw you on the Wall earlier, Pen-ii,” Aragorn said. “It must be strange indeed to be here after all you have heard of this place.”

“No more strange perhaps than for those who fought here or hold memories of those now fallen once walking within these walls.”

It was sincerely meant, and they could see it. This was not ‘Penny in turmoil trying to hold it together and say the right thing’ but rather her speaking with complete understanding and sympathy. Aragorn inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of both the sentiment and the truth in her words.

“We shall not be here long, Pen-ii,” Gandalf’s voice was quiet and kindly. “And perhaps it shall be no bad thing for you to be here, to confront some of your burden. As you have sometimes said in the past, the guessed at is often darker than the known which, however bleak, once faced can be all the better accepted. Only then can one move forward.”

Others round him were nodding and Penny knew he was right. She thanked him, not knowing what else to say, and hurried on to find Mireth.

Mireth offered to stay with her when they made it back to the room, but Penny assured her there was no need. It was, after all, still very early and she knew she would be poor company. Even so, Mireth sat on her cot next to Penny’s as Penny washed and undressed, regaling her with some lengthy and convoluted tale involving a Lothlorien elleth and the two suitors who had vied for her hand only to be pipped at the post by a third they had not even known was in the running.

Penny smiled and nodded as she listened, grateful for what she knew Mireth was trying to do. She suspected that Mireth herself was probably still feeling quite low and out of sorts, and thus was all the more touched by her gesture. At last, however, Mireth said she would leave her be and headed back to the dining hall and the comfort of Celebdor’s company. Meanwhile Penny got into bed with a lamp beside her and read some of her Tuor, allowing the story to transport her away from everything else trying to crowd in on her mind.

If she had stopped to think about it, she would have noted the irony of how she was actually trying to escape the reality of something that previously would have been the very fantasy she would have escaped into.

All very strange.

After some time she realised her eyes were aching too much for her to read any more, but though she was tired she was not sleepy. She turned out the lamp and lay in the dark, trying not to think about anything in particular, but very, very conscious of the silence. The room felt muggy – it was a warm summer night – and yet the oppressive nature of the cold, bare stone walls only made Penny snuggle herself down into her blanket.

Only when the ellith arrived at last, chattering and giggling in whispers, did she finally drift off to sleep. Perhaps it was to be expected given the warm night, let alone the sense of grief weighing down on her, but Penny’s sleep was fitful and disturbed by strange dreams. Little did she know it, but Mireth stayed awake for much of the night, sitting on the floor beside Penny’s cot while she stroked her forehead and hair, murmuring quietly to her each time she grew restless.

In one particularly vivid dream Penny had arrived at her mother’s house for lunch only to find that Halbarad was already in the sitting room being fed tea and cakes. Her mother seemed entirely unfazed by the sight of an unkempt six-foot Dunadan in full ‘costume’ replete with bow on his back and sword on his hip sitting on her sofa, making polite comments about the wallpaper and asking her about the holiday snaps in frames on the mantelpiece.

“This is where I’ve been,” Penny explained, indicating Halbarad, but her mother did not seem the least bit interested.

“Tell you what,” she was saying to Halbarad, “I’ve got some lovely pics of Penny when she was little, I’ll have to find them.”

She stood up and started rummaging in a nearby bookcase.

“But, Mum, I’ve been gone! Haven’t you noticed? I’ve been gone! He’s been looking after me, him and friends of his, so I don’t want you to worry about me…”

“Would your friend like another cup of tea, darling?”

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!”

Halbarad seemed delighted to find that the plate in front of him was full of Jaffa Cakes since he was, so he declared, a huge fan of them.

“Have you tried the new lime flavour?” he asked Penny.

Penny could only feel the rising knot of frustration and bewilderment within her stomach. She blinked at him.

“Why are you here? You died. How are you…?”

Her mother was laughing.

“How can he be dead and eating my sponge cake?! He’s a fictional character, love, not some real warrior.”

That made Halbarad suddenly very angry. He started shouting, smashing the teapot against the wall in his fury, insisting he was every bit as real as anyone else, but when Penny tried to stop him her hand went straight through his arm as if he were a phantom. Halbarad stared at her in shock as he slowly faded from view while Penny screamed his name, shaking off her mother’s hold only for her mother’s house to then twist out of existence in its turn.

She had woken herself up in tears at that point to find Mireth shushing her back to sleep, her song lulling Penny into sweeter, if still equally vivid, dreams.

When Penny finally awoke with the dawn, she felt almost as tired as when she had gone to sleep, and she still felt a great weight somewhere deep within her that would not shift.

She did not want breakfast, but felt obliged to accompany Mireth and the others nonetheless. Once again she ate little and let the conversation pass her by while she counted the number of carved flowers she could find in the ceiling struts of the dining hall. She was distracted, however, by the arrival of Rhimlath and Lindir as they squeezed themselves onto their table, muttering something about escaping Gimli.

“He is determined to give anyone and everyone a tour of the caves,” Lindir explained. “He has been giving chapter and verse on it all through breakfast and is now looking for willing volunteers to hold lamps and go exploring.”

“Legolas has little choice,” Rhimlath added, “but that does not mean the rest of us have to subject ourselves to it.”

“But surely King Thranduil’s Halls are caves, Rhimlath?” Penny replied. “I doubt Legolas will feel too uncomfortable.”

Lindir started to mutter something about ‘far be it for him to comment on the foibles of Sindarin princes,’ but Penny ignored him and carried on talking.

“And what about Nargothrond and Menegroth?”

Her voice slowed and faltered as she spoke, however, after realising Rhimlath was, if not glaring at her exactly, then certainly giving her a ‘hard’ look.

“Do you presume to compare the glories of the ancient elvish realms to a mere natural cave formation?”

“But Menegroth was carved by dwarves, and if a dwarf says these caves will rival any that he knows of…”

Rhimlath raised his eyebrow in such a way that it left Penny in little doubt that, for all he had much respect for Gimli for Lady Galadriel’s sake, he still would not wholly trust the opinion of a dwarf unless he had no choice in the matter.

“Rhimlath is an elf of the trees, Pen-ii,” Lindir cut in. “Our kin in the north have followed the ancient ways of Thingol, perhaps, but I have never known such a life, nor has Rhimlath, and neither of us would feel comfortable.”

“Even to be surrounded by this much stone…,” Rhimlath murmured, looking up at one of the tall windows that showed little more than view of a patch of morning sky above a towering cliff face.

Penny did consider going over to sign herself up for the guided tour, but when she looked round to where he had been seated, it was clear Gimli had already left with Legolas and several others in tow.

After breakfast, as she and Mireth were about to leave, Arvain and Halladan came over, Halladan leaning forward to rest his hands on the table beside Penny, and Arvain hovering in the background, seemingly a little restless.

“How are you this morning, Pen-ii? Better refreshed for some sleep, I trust?”

Penny did not glance at Mireth, but she knew Mireth had given her a ‘look’ and knew Halladan or Arvain (if not both) would have clocked it. No point in lying.

“I rested well enough given it was a warm night.”

Halladan nodded.

“To be expected.”

Something in his voice said he understood all too well. Penny caught his eye. Instinctively they smiled, albeit sadly, at each other.

“Halladan? Shall we?”

Arvain seemed itching to get somewhere. Halladan laughed a little apologetically.

“Off to do some sparring practice. I think Arvain is restless. In all but a week we shall be heading north once more, after all.”

The smile he gave them tried to be light and breezy, but Penny knew all too well it was a serious business. That and Arvain had energy to burn, or so it appeared given how eagerly he dragged his brother off for an hour or two’s practice with a sword.

There was the opportunity to bathe that day which was gratefully accepted by all the travellers. The place had, after all, been built by Numenoreans, so there were several rooms in the base of the tower with floors that sloped gently to small holes in one corner, so one could bathe and the water would run out into some intricate system of channels deep within the cliff and eventually join the Deeping Stream. The females would have the use of the bathing rooms all morning, while after lunch it would be the turn of the males.

Water was heated and left in large basins, but it was still little more than a public stand-up wash, several to a room, armed with flannels, soap, shampoo and jugs, and helping to pour the water over each other as needed, much as had happened in the tents by the river beside Edoras. The difference being that there it had not been too unpleasant in a tent on a warm summer’s day, whereas here the summer heat failed to penetrate the cool stone chambers, and it was an unpleasantly chilly experience standing about in the buff on the smooth flags with water dripping off you.

Still, as far as Penny was concerned, it helped to pass an hour or two. Today was a day of ‘waiting till tomorrow when she could leave’ as far as she was concerned.

It also seemed the irrepressible nature of elves was slowly reasserting itself given there was far more chatter and laughter during the bathing than there had been even a few days ago at the river. That also helped to pass the time and let Penny forget where she was and how she was feeling for a little while.

Back in the sparse austerity of their room, however, with Mireth combing out her hair and Penny idly admiring the selection of bejewelled hair ties the other ellith had strewn onto a nearby cot, it was a different matter. The thought of wandering about staring at places she little wanted to see once more, even if they would have taken on a different tone in the morning’s bright summer sun as opposed to last night’s gathering dusk, was not one that appealed. She was not in the right frame of mind. She said she would stay where she was and read for a while.

Mireth had to leave her to assist Elrond since several local people had turned up overnight to seek help for illnesses or war wounds, but a couple of the other ellith stayed for a little while, doing some embroidery and singing quietly, till they felt the light would be better outside for their work. Penny thanked them when they asked if she would join them, insisting she was happy as she was.

For a good half hour, then, Penny valiantly attempted to lose herself once more in the tale of Tuor, but her mind kept returning to the fact that both Galadriel and Celeborn had lived through those times, as well as a few other elves travelling with them. Glorfindel had known Tuor personally, of course, and indeed it was when she came to a paragraph describing Glorfindel that she felt that really what she was doing was no escape at all. She put the book aside and lay on her cot for a few minutes before deciding to seek out Erestor. He was bound to have something else she could read.

She managed to find her way out at last to the central courtyard, though her route there took her so long and via so many corridors that she was fairly convinced she finally exited via a door that was pretty much on the opposite side of the courtyard from where her room was situated. Various people were milling about, talking or laughing. Not many, though. When she quizzed the nearest group of elves they said that though most people were in the Deep or else wandering between the Wall and the Dike, Erestor was most likely in his chambers. One offered to take her there, leaving her at the door even as she knocked.

Glorfindel and Elrohir were with him. Penny apologised for disturbing them, and explained she was looking for something to read. Erestor seemed surprised.

“What of the books I gave you?”

She shrugged faintly apologetically.

“I was reading the tale of Tuor, but…” She glanced at Glorfindel. “Well, I would prefer something that is less historical, something in which to lose myself completely for an hour or so, that is all. I was thinking some poems, perhaps? Whatever you think might be best.”

Erestor nodded, smiling. He crouched down to start rummaging in a small chest beside his bed, bringing out one book after another, reading the title, or flicking through the pages, considering its merit and suitability.

“I did have one other idea.”

Penny paused.

“Yes?”

“Well, it has been a little while since my last formal Westron lesson. I was wondering if perhaps… if you are free, of course…”

“But of course, Pen-ii!” Erestor positively beamed. “I would be delighted!”

Glorfindel and Elrohir exchanged a glance. Glorfindel gave a half-laugh even as he spoke.

“Are you that desperate to have the time pass quickly?”

“In truth, the sooner we leave here, the better,” Penny replied. “At another time, perhaps, I might better be able to cope with being here, but events in Gondor and then in Rohan have left me confronting the enormity of my situation for the first time in many months. I have too much else inside me to be anything other than very much out of sorts in this place.”

Elrohir was nodding.

“Ada said you were only now managing to grieve.”

Penny, looking at him as he spoke, gave a sad almost-smile, even as her gaze drifted towards the floor. Elrohir, seeing her reaction, came over to her. He laid one hand on her upper arm.

“Take comfort from the fact that you are surrounded by friends, Pen-ii. Anything we can do to help distract you a little, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you, Elrohir. Truly.”

Erestor had found a small book of poems and songs which were, for the most part, about love, the seasons and various flora and fauna. Ideal for Penny’s needs. He stood and handed it to her.

“This should serve you well, Pen-ii. Now, I am happy enough to run through some Westron with you this very moment if you wish.” He turned to Glorfindel and Elrohir who took that as a hint to leave.

“Oh, no, I did not wish to… That is to say, if you were…”

“Not at all, Pen-ii,” Glorfindel was smiling. “Elrohir and I will join the others outside. We shall see you at the midday meal, no doubt.”

Before they started Penny asked Erestor what Glorfindel had meant. Erestor merely smiled rather cryptically in the way that only an elf ever could and murmured something vague about more than wounds of grief to be healed and how this place would perhaps be that much brighter now it had known, albeit briefly, the presence of so many elves and so many of them great and noble ones to boot.

More elvish elvishness at work, it seemed.

But Penny was glad of it. Helm’s Deep seemed so very dark and sombre, and not simply in her imagination. It carried the weight of that battle, so nearly a rout, upon it still, or so it seemed to her.

After an hour’s Westron, and much pleasant idle chatter with Erestor, Penny headed back to her room with his book of poetry in one hand. It was, as Erestor had promised, exactly the sort of thing she had meant and she managed to lose herself in it utterly, relishing the language now she knew it that much better, imagining so clearly the pastoral images the words conjured up.

The rest of the morning slipped past almost unnoticed.

Mireth and Celebdor arrived to drag her off for lunch. It seemed Celebdor had been let in on part of the cause of Penny’s melancholy because he muttered something about foresight being quite a burden at times, and it was best Penny keep herself as occupied as possible. He gave her shoulders a friendly squeeze as they wandered down the corridor.

Gimli and Legolas were nearby them at lunch and Legolas was strangely quiet as Gimli spoke almost non-stop about the caves, describing caverns and chambers and the rocks and stones therein. Penny was able to understand enough of it to be able to murmur appreciatively in the right points, and Gimli seemed glad of her enthusiasm. Apparently he had already hounded several people, including a few elves, hobbits and some Dunedain into coming with him to see the caves that afternoon, and he immediately asked if Penny would like to join them. Penny was thrilled.

“I take it you went to see them this morning?”

Legolas looked at her balefully.

“How did you find it? Is it as glorious as Gimli insists?”

“It is…” Legolas was clearly searching for the words, “…astonishing. I will admit I have never seen anything like it.”

“Beautiful?”

Legolas hesitated.

“My friend finds beauty in its rawness. He can see beauty as it is now, but also in what an army of dwarves would carve from it. I can appreciate it on one level, but…” He seemed faintly uncomfortable. “The caves delve too deep, too large under the mountain for any of my kin.”

“So it would make a good dwarfhold, then?” Penny said with a grin.

“Well, so he seems to think…”

Legolas stopped himself and looked at her for a moment as if guessing the truthful prediction in her words. Penny looked away but was unable to hide the slight smile on her face. Legolas glanced at Gimli beside him, still busily describing glittering stalagmites to an enthralled Pippin even through a mouthful of cold roast meat, grinned and then laughed.

Straight after lunch, then, Penny joined a party of at least a dozen or so to go and see the Glittering Caves. As she left the hall she spotted Arvain, though there was no sign of Halladan anywhere. She stopped to ask if he wished to join them, but even as she did so she could see he did not seem as usual. He was certainly affable enough as he smiled, thanked her and declined her offer, but there seemed to be a certain tension about him, as if something was troubling him.

“Where is Halladan? Would he care to join us, do you think?”

“I have not seen him since this morning.”

His voice seemed strained as if he were both annoyed but also concerned. Everything had seemed fine at breakfast between the two of them. What on earth had happened?

“Arvain, what…?”

But Penny got no further. Not only could she see Arvain glancing quickly to those still seated near him, as if whatever she would ask he could not openly answer in company, but at that moment she was cut off by Pippin calling her name as he waited for her at the doorway. She had to go or risk losing the others in the maze of corridors. Gimli had marched off at quite a pace.

“It is nothing.” Arvain smiled, but Penny could see from his eyes it was a little forced. “Do not concern yourself. He wanted some time alone and… I was happy to oblige.”

Penny raised her eyebrows. That did not sound good.

“Go.” His smile was warmer and genuine this time. “Go and see the caves. Their beauty is well known. I saw some of them last time I was here.”

Penny hesitated for a moment, but Pippin called her name once more, glancing anxiously out into the corridor as he did so, and Arvain gestured with his head, his smile broadening a little, insistent she should go.

Penny nodded and muttered something about ‘well, if he was certain’ and hurried over to Pippin. As she reached him, though, she threw a glance back behind her towards Arvain, who, now she had moved on, seemed serious once more, staring into his cup of ale with his brows furrowed a little. From the sound of it this was more than mere lack of pipeweed at work. She was concerned about Halladan now also, berating herself a little for being so caught up in her own feelings that she had not remembered that things might be just as hard for him and his brother, indeed for all the Dunedain who would remember when they were last here and those amongst them now fallen.

She tried to think no more about it – after all there was little she could do at the moment - and the company she was in certainly helped. Pippin and Sam were looking forward to seeing the caves and were full of chatter and excitement. Frodo and Merry had gone in the morning contingent and had come back agog at what they had seen, apparently.

As they headed out into the Deep, Penny could not help but notice there were quite a few elves walking here and there, mostly chatting, some sitting and singing, but all looking very much as if they were ‘at home’ and their very presence in amongst the dark stone lightened it and lifted some of the oppressiveness.

The path that ran the length of the ravine of Helm’s Deep was well laid with stone. On either side there were wide spaces of rough grass with patches of scattered stones and scree with the huge cliff faces rising up on the far sides, though closing in with every step till at last they narrowed to a solid wall of rock.

The entrance way to the caves was wide enough for three horses to get through but no more. It was obvious it would be relatively easy to defend well, given there was no access to it except via the path and the rock face was sheer above it. That small entrance seemed deceptively insignificant, and yet the moment you stepped through it and started down the wide slope, you could see ahead of you a massive chamber opening out, filled with horses, hay, supplies and men wandering to and fro. On one side of the chamber a channel had been cut to carry part of some underground stream that way so there was a permanent water supply for both man and beast. The smell of horse, and horse dung, however, was somewhat ‘ripe’ to say the least.

It was somewhere near the back of this vast chamber that the journey truly began, and it did not disappoint.

Even though the few elves in their party certainly seemed increasingly uncomfortable the deeper into the cave system they went (and one by one murmured apologies and headed back to be with the horses), the rest were entranced. Gimli led them, lantern in hand, down a network of interconnecting caves and paths, some of which were at times narrow and low-ceilinged and at others wide and with sheer walls of rock on either side that seemed to stretch interminably above their heads. Every other person in the party carried a torch or a lantern, but even so when they reached the largest caverns they seemed to make little impact beyond an area of a few feet around the edge of the group.

Everywhere they looked, the walls shone. At times it was due to water, slowly dripping down to form stalactites and stalagmites or simply to course in slow rivulets down the walls. At other times there was even a strange, near luminescence within the rock itself, but there were also seams of gemstones, metallic ore or exposed lumps of crystals that seemed to be almost everywhere you looked. Not only that but there was, at times, a glittering sheen on the surface of the rock that years of polishing by water, now long gone, had achieved.

It was breathtaking.

And the more Gimli talked, the quieter the others became, lost in wonder at the gloriousness of it all. For his part, Gimli frankly admitted he loved the place more each time he saw it.

“It lifts my heart to see it,” he said as they finally emerged, blinking into the sunlight like so many owls, “Truly, I never thought to see such wonders. I thought they had long been lost to my kin. Ah, I shall miss this place when at last we leave here. But I shall take the memory of it with me to the north, and all my kin shall know of the beauty that lies here.”

Penny smiled to herself but said nothing.

As they neared the Burg, the Wall looming large next to it, Penny noticed Legolas waiting for them, talking to a group of Galadhrim near the bottom of the steps leading up to the tower.

“Ah, Pen-ii. You are done with your tour of the caves? How did you find it?”

“I am lost for words, Legolas. Beautiful, if a little forbidding. I am glad I had such company with me. I would not like to be there on my own.”

Legolas laughed.

“No, indeed.”

He paused, letting some of the others walk on past them.

“So, are you ready to take up my offer of yesterday?”

Penny said she was, but asked if he would mind if she went to freshen up a little first. She felt a little sooty from the torches and, even though it was chilly in the caverns, she was a little sticky from the exertion at points, her hands dirty from scrambling over rocks or touching the sides of caverns and her feet wet and muddy. Legolas said he would meet her in the courtyard when she was ready.

A brief wash and a change of shoes later, and Penny found her way out to the main courtyard. Legolas led her out of the main gate and down the long ramp to the greensward in front of the Wall first of all. He was taking her down towards the Dike’s rampart, talking as he did so of the lead up to the battle, how the preparations had gone and the general mood amongst the men as they waited for the assault to begin. Then he led her up a row of steps cut into the rampart’s bank, then up a ladder to the platform that ran along the length of the rampart itself. The view from the top was quite something – you could see the whole valley stretching out ahead of you.

Legolas then began at the beginning, telling the story that Penny knew so well. He had, of course, told her much of this before back in Minas Tirith, but this time he was able to actually point out landmarks or areas in question.

“That is the route we travelled, the same path that is most commonly taken. You can make it out easily enough, even with your mortal eyesight. You see that larger series of hills? About a league’s distance? We found several dead Rohirrim there, those who had been caught by the chasing Uruk. They had made a valiant stand but were outnumbered. Of course, in the dark, terrified, it was no easy matter for them. When we finally made it up here we learnt they had been the rearguard of a retreating group rounded up by Mithrandir. The Uruk had pressed them so closely that they were in danger of being overtaken and surrounded, so that small band of men had insisted the others hurry on while they turned to face their chasers. They never stood a chance, even though by their actions the others made it here in safety.”

He fell silent for a while.

Penny wondered how this was going to benefit her given the mood it was putting her in, but then she remembered what Gandalf had said about the known being easier to deal with than the unknown, took a deep breath and steeled herself to hear whatever else Legolas felt he should share with her.

He led her back down to the greensward, walking slowly, gesturing up to the Wall or round about him as he described the fall of the Dike, the retreat of those defending it, and the onslaught of the Uruks and Dunlendings. He pointed out areas where particular things had happened, where this man had fallen defending the Dike, where Aragorn and Theoden had ridden in the last charge at dawn, where the grappling hooks had landed.

It seemed strangely incongruous that even as he did so, groups of elves were wandering past or could be heard singing from various points.

Back up the rampart, at the gate, he turned, indicating the little path to the side door that Aragorn, Eomer and Gimli had used. It gave Penny vertigo just thinking about it – it was little more than a three-foot-wide ledge and with no handrail or barrier. He even pointed out where Aragorn had stood above the gate to talk to the enemy, to foretell of their impending defeat.

“Of course it is hard to see it now. They have had to rebuild it since those… blasted it apart only moments later.”

Penny wondered what word he would have said when he paused. It had been as if had checked himself, held himself back from saying something perhaps more emotive than would be acceptable in polite, common parlance. She glanced at him and could see the rage and disgust in his face.

And so, at last, he led her to the little side door and the steps down to the Wall from the Burg. Here he became even more animated, discussing his point of view of the battle given he had spent a good part of it on the Wall, what he himself had seen and experienced, even pointing out where he had found most of his arrows focused from time to time.

“Though at times even I had to resort to my knives,” he conceded.

They had not been on the Wall long when they spotted Arvain on a little way ahead of them, standing looking out onto the greensward below as if trying to see who might be out there. Legolas called his name and he looked up, smiling on seeing them, though Penny thought she could still see some tension round his eyes. She wanted to pick up their conversation of lunchtime but thought it best not to just yet given they were not alone.

Legolas explained he was giving Penny an account of the battle. Arvain immediately asked if he might join them.

“I came out to look for Halladan, but there is no sign of him out towards the Dike that I can tell so far, so I might as well join you and look out for him here on the Wall at the same time, no?”

He smiled that charmingly disarming smile of his and fell into step alongside Legolas as he continued to relate his version of events. Penny tried not to feel too concerned by the possible implication that Arvain had still not seen his brother since some time that morning.

As he listened to Legolas, Arvain would occasionally nod or say something that indicated he understood from a warrior’s or tactician’s point of view. For the most part, though, he remained quiet, seemingly as intrigued to hear Penny interject to relate what she knew of the battle as he was to listen to Legolas’s first-hand account.

For Penny, it was so very strange to have this guided tour from one who had been there, one who could accurately and, to some extent, almost dispassionately, point to a spot and say ‘yes, this is what happened on exactly those stones or patch of grass you can see in front of you.’ It certainly made everything that much more concrete in her mind, but at the same time made it more factual rather than her imagination running away with itself. Legolas had witnessed it, lived through it, and yet he spoke calmly and quietly, with compassion for those who had fallen, but also with a certain objectivity that helped Penny to be able to adopt the same attitude. It had helped her in Minas Tirith and it was helping her once more here. She felt a wave of gratitude towards him.

There were a few others on the Wall, it being such a great length and there being a somewhat limited repertoire of places to go to. It seemed Aragorn was giving a similar tour to that which Legolas was undergoing, though this time with perhaps more austere company, given Elrond and Celeborn were with him and grilling him somewhat extensively as to company positions, tactics and specifics. Greetings were made by all and Legolas was stayed for a few moments by some questions from Elrond and Celeborn. Penny and Arvain carried on walking.

When they were a reasonable distance, Penny felt it safe enough to speak.

“What is wrong, Arvain? What has happened? With Halladan, I mean. He seemed fine at breakfast.”

Arvain glanced at her.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with.” He tried a smile, but Penny could see he was simply trying to calm her fears. “Halladan… seemed out of sorts this morning at our practice, that is all. He refused to continue, stormed out. I have not seen him since.”

“What?!”

Penny tried to keep her voice down, but the worry in her voice was evident. Arvain looked uncomfortable and sighed heavily.

“In truth I fear it was my fault. I…I have felt a little out of sorts myself these past few days. Faelon jokes it is the lack of pipeweed, which might well be true, but also being here…” He paused before changing tack entirely. “I felt the need to do something energetic, something that would fill some time, and I pressed Halladan into joining me, insisting he needed to exercise that leg of his or risk it rusting up completely. Looking back I suspect he only agreed to it to please me. He did not seem himself at all once we started, hesitant with his blows, not the swordsman I know he is. I… commented on it.” He glanced at her, his expression guilty and apologetic. “I was a little freer with my tongue than perhaps I should have been. I only meant it in jest, but…”

He trailed off.

Penny’s brain was going at a million miles a minute.

“When was the last time he practiced?”

Arvain shrugged but seemed even more uncomfortable, as if he could guess her line of thinking.

“His leg could bear little weight for any length of time till recently.”

And Penny was not aware of any practice being done by the Dunedain as they had travelled in recent days, which could only mean…

Arvain looked sideways at her, his look full of meaning, but it was enough to make the matter clear.

Arvain turned away to look ahead, and as he did so reacted to whatever it was that he had seen. Penny looked up also and could see a solitary figure, dressed in the dark greys and browns of the Dunedain some way ahead of them. Arvain shouted out even as Penny registered who it was.

“Halladan!”

Halladan glanced up in their direction. He nodded but did not smile. It took them some minutes to reach him.

“Feeling better, I trust, for a day by yourself?”

Arvain was trying to sound breezily unconcerned as they reached him. Halladan forced an apologetic smile at him.

“I am sorry I lost my temper. I should not have.”

“Think no more of it. I apologise for perhaps having forced you to do something you did not feel you were ready for. After all, the leg is still healing.”

Halladan looked at him, as if he wanted to say something to that but was forcing himself not to. He seemed unwilling at first to accept the ‘out’ that Arvain was giving him.

“Yes,” he said at last, turning back to look out through the arrow slit nearby. “Yes, my leg is still a little weak, that is true.”

There was a pause. Penny wondered if she should perhaps wander back to talk with Legolas and the others but Arvain was talking once more.

“You know, seeing you standing there from a distance, for a moment I thought…” He gave a half-hearted half-laugh. “A trick of the mind for a mere moment, that was all.”

Halladan looked at him.

“You do look very like him sometimes.”

Halladan sighed heavily and nodded.

“I have memories of him here too. And Hirvell.”

Okay, time to go.

“Perhaps, I should…”

“No, no, Pen-ii. Do not mind us. You have your burdens in this place also, I know. Aragorn told me they saw you up here last night, lost in your thoughts for quite a long time. Do you forget we saw the reaction you had to coming here?” Halladan gave a half-smile. “You must forgive us if we are perhaps not best able to help distract you of late.”

“Not at all. I can well understand that… you remember your last visit here.”

Arvain was nodding, looking out towards the Deep but at nothing in particular.

“I keep half expecting to meet Hirvell every time I walk down a corridor in that place.” He nodded distractedly towards the Burg. “It was a strange time. We had journeyed so hard and so fast, and to suddenly have achieved our goal, to have found and met Aragorn, to be here and preparing for war, preparing for the moment for which Aragorn had waited all of his life…” He sighed. “It was a moment of calm, and yet the very air was alive with mounting apprehension.” He laughed quietly. “The Rohirrim said to me later that they thought us very serious, very tall and imposing in our near silence. Little did they know it was because of the tension coiled within us, waiting for what we knew must lie ahead. None of us slept that night we were here. Hirvell could not stop pacing up and down our room, do you remember, Halladan?” He laughed once more, not waiting for a reply. “Faelon threw him out into the corridor at the last. Said if he wanted to tramp about to do it elsewhere where others were not trying to rest.”

“I dreamt your father met my mother last night,” Penny blurted out. Arvain turned to her with a chuckle.

“Indeed?”

“It was very strange. They were in my mother’s house, chatting away as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and neither were listening to me. Mother was trying to find pictures of me as a child to show him and he was complimenting her on her cake.”

Arvain laughed loud.

“Ah, Father always had a bit of a sweet tooth, though he would never admit it. Do you remember that business with Morfinniel’s seed cakes, Halladan?”

Arvain had turned to his brother as he had asked and Penny had looked towards Halladan with him, curious to know what the end of this story would be given Morfinniel was, she knew, the name of Faelon’s wife and anything that involved Halbarad and Faelon or their families was usually a story worth hearing.

Halladan, however, did not reply. Indeed, now they looked, they realised he had turned away, and perhaps had been turned away for some time. Penny immediately suspected that the talk of Hirvell and Halbarad, particularly here in this place so resonant with the memories of them both, was too much and he had turned to hide his tears.

Clearly Arvain had the same thought, since his face showed his compassion even as he exchanged a glance with Penny.

“Ai, Halladan, forgive me. I should not have spoken so freely perhaps, not after this morning…”

Penny had stepped towards Halladan to see if he was alright. She gently said his name and laid one hand on his arm.

In a split second, several things happened almost simultaneously.

The moment her hand fell on Halladan’s arm, he spun round with a speed that took Penny entirely by surprise and grabbed hold of her by the forearm with such force and so tight a grip that it hurt her.

That had shocked her, but what scared her was the fact that she could immediately tell that, even though he was looking at her, he could not see her. His face was twisted into something terrible: a Dunadan in full, stern, warrior fury.

In the same moment that Halladan grabbed her, Arvain shouted out his brother’s name and made to rush towards him, no doubt to pull Penny from his hold, but even as she heard him shout out, Penny shook her head at him furiously, hissing a ‘No!’ at him as loudly as she dared.

Arvain stared at her in shock, confused but also angry; shocked and appalled at his brother’s actions (and at what it implied), in fear for her safety and thus furious that she would try and stop him from intervening in what he knew to be a potentially very dangerous situation. He had seen Halladan’s right hand grasp hold the pommel of the dagger on his belt as he had grabbed Penny’s arm even if she had not, though Arvain suspected Penny had indeed noticed.

He stayed still, but still roared his brother’s name once more, the desperate concern clear in his tone.

“HALLADAN!”

This time it must have filtered through because Halladan instantly loosed his hold on Penny to turn wildly, breathing hard, looking round him as if for whoever had called his name, his expression saying everything: someone (perhaps he had even recognised it as Arvain) was calling for him and he could not see them in amongst whatever else was invading his sight. However, as he turned, stepping blindly, he moved dangerously close to the low balustrade on the Deep side of the Wall, to within a mere few feet of it.

Penny was livid. Even as Arvain had shouted his brother’s name a second time and Halladan had wheeled away from her, she glared at Arvain, hissing ‘Shut up!’ at him angrily.

Arvain gaped at her, the confusion and fury evident in his eyes.

Penny merely angrily flapped her hand at him, making it absolutely clear that he should back away and not intervene further.

Then, to Arvain’s utter astonishment, she started to sing. It was the first thing she could think of to do that might, if Halladan could hear it, be incongruous enough with whatever else was going on in his head and stop him from stepping any further backwards and falling over the edge of the balustrade.

The first thing that popped into her head was one of the elvish songs that she had heard several times now – a generic love song that had a pretty tune and could be sung solo or with several alternate choral lines accompanying, and which seemed just as well known by Galadhrim and residents of Imladris alike. She could not remember all the words, but la-la-la-ed for the bits she could not remember. Even as she started, she flapped at Arvain once more, her teeth clenching briefly in her anger as she did so.

Arvain, clearly at something of a loss, turned and ran for those he knew were a little distance behind him.

Even as Penny watched him go, she suddenly realised what he was doing. Halladan would be mortified and furious when he finally came to, not only to learn what had happened but to have had those people involved as well.

Still, there was little that could be done now.

She was glancing between Arvain and Halladan, and could see as Arvain came near to the others that they had already started moving towards him, though whether because they had heard his shout from before and seen something of what had happened, or whether it was enough for them to now see the expression on his face, Penny did not know. Arvain was beckoning them to follow him, and they were not hesitating, could see the urgency in his face, had glanced ahead and, with elvish sight, no doubt seen who it involved, perhaps guessed at the nature of the crisis, and were hurrying after him.

Halladan was coming to. She could see it in his eyes. Who knew how long he had been having the flashback before they had realised. She quietened her song, then faltered, then stopped completely even as the others neared them.

“Pen-ii?”

“Hush, Halladan, it is over. Step this way a little, you are too close to the edge.”

Halladan did as she said, looking round him distractedly.

“I am sorry, Halladan, but Arvain has gone to fetch…”

She had no chance to finish. Even as Halladan looked in the direction she had indicated, the others reached them.

“What is happening?” Elrond’s concern was clear.

“Halladan?”

Aragorn had quickly stepped towards him. Halladan seemed utterly bewildered, almost close to tears. Aragorn put his arm about his shoulder.

“Come, let us get you inside.”

As Aragorn led him off, Celeborn with him, Arvain came over to Penny.

“Are you hurt?”

Penny saw the alarmed glances his question elicited and glared at him.

“No!”

Legolas glanced up to see others on the Wall walking towards them.

“I think it best we get inside as Aragorn suggested.” He looked at Elrond. “Should I find Mithrandir?”

Elrond paused before nodding.

“Yes, I think that might be wise.”

Penny could not be certain what, if anything, had been seen or noted by the others before Arvain had brought their attention to it. All she knew was that she felt angry and irritated on Halladan’s behalf that now an almighty fuss was going to be made over what had happened. Yes, it had been alarming and serious. Of course it had. But she knew perfectly well that Halladan would find it difficult enough to learn what had happened without having to do so in company and possibly have such people taking him to task over it as well.

It took her a few moments to get her composure before she could begin to follow the others. She noted Arvain was waiting for her, which also annoyed her. Indeed he actually seemed to be hanging back from the others a little quite deliberately as they walked back along the Wall. She also got the distinct impression he was nearly as furious as she was.

All along the Wall, then, the two walked slowly side by side but with that sort of angular tautness that people who are silently fuming convey. Once inside the Burg, Aragorn made for the nearest empty room, a small antechamber which was little more than a part-time storeroom, but also had a few chairs in it and one small window, high up, that let in a little light.

It was only when they saw the others turning into the small room ahead of them that Arvain finally stopped and turned to Penny.

“What exactly did you think you were doing back there?”

He was keeping his voice down, and he was speaking near enough through clenched teeth.

“I beg your pardon?”

Penny’s tone of voice matched his exactly: barely suppressed anger.

“You hissing at me to be quiet and flapping at me to go away! In case you had forgotten, Pen-ii, Halladan is my brother! Perhaps you did not realise it, but you were in very real danger!”

“Do you think I did not know that?! At least I was not yelling my head off, and managing to alarm him into moving dangerously close to the edge of the Wall!”

“I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU!”

“AND I WAS TRYING TO HELP HALLADAN! How do you think he will feel now all these people are involved in what happened out there?!”

“Are you saying they should not know?! He could have seriously hurt you!”

“If you had done what I was trying to tell you to do in the first place…!”

“How DARE you tell me what to do when it concerns my brother!”

A cough from behind them in the corridor interrupted them. They looked round to see Gandalf and Legolas eyeing them with some surprise, their eyebrows raised.

Gandalf stepped past them, gesturing to the small antechamber as he did so.

“Shall we?” he said, pleasantly enough, but with that particular, steely firmness of his that he used on occasion that brooked no argument.

Penny and Arvain, shooting each other one final glare, followed behind him looking strangely like chastised schoolchildren in his wake.

Author’s Notes:

Menegroth was the name of the halls in Doriath, originally carved by dwarves but most renowned as the elvish stronghold of Thingol and Melian. Nargothrond was the stronghold of Finrod Felagund, and also carved into the rock in imitation of Menegroth. Both were elvish realms in Beleriand. See The Silmarillion.

I seem to remember having used the expression ‘clocked’ before and it causing some confusion. It’s British slang meaning ‘to take note of’, ‘to spot’ or ‘see’ something.

Rest assured that, even though this chapter took a long time coming, the next one will be posted very shortly (so the cliffhanger will not be left hanging long, I promise). ;)

As ever, my sincere thanks to all those taking time out to read this fic, to review and comment or get in touch, and also those adding my fics to their faves – it is all much appreciated.