Chapter 51 – “Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off)”

It was an early start, and a cold one, the next morning. Dawn had barely broken when Penny awoke at Mireth’s gentle insistence. Outside a soft peach glow was only just visible through the mists above the eastern tree line and the encampment was shrouded in a dusky half-light.

After the slight ‘high’ of the night before, Penny awoke feeling low and out of sorts, but she could not blame how she was feeling on tiredness; the late night and general merriment had left her so exhausted she had slept like a log. Mireth could see it in her, despite Penny smiling and responding to all conversation pleasantly enough as they washed and dressed. As Penny bent to pick up her saddlebags ready to go and find breakfast, Mireth stayed her and hugged her.

“What was that for?”

“Oh, nothing. I just felt you might need it this morning, is all.”

Breakfast was not the leisurely affair it usually was. There was a sense of bustle and business about the place, with people grabbing fruit or cured meat from the stores and eating it where they stood or else taking it back to their tents (if they were not already dismantled). All round the camp awnings were fast disappearing while packs and stores were already being loaded onto horses; everything spoke of a hurry to get going. For all it was considered highly unlikely they would have any trouble from the Dunlendings, no one was taking any chances and all were agreed that the sooner they could pass through their territory, the happier everyone would be.

Penny ate in silence, her mood flat and somewhat numb. The lack of a quiet communal morning meal did not help, nor the grey skies that spoke of coming rain. Nor was she the only one who was somewhat subdued. Leaving Legolas, Gimli and, most especially, Aragorn behind them the previous day had been quite emotional for the hobbits given all that they had been through together and the length of time they had been in their company. It had not been only Penny who had both appreciated the previous night’s light-heartedness and allowed herself to get carried away with the mood for a couple of hours. In the cold, grey dawn the laughter and song seemed a million miles away with all the hurried, quiet activity around them.

Penny was grateful, then, when Frodo was insistent that they had time for a cup of tea in spite of her mixed feelings about being in their company at the moment. As she had got herself ready for bed the previous night, she had silently resolved to follow Halladan’s lead from earlier that evening when he had stopped her from leaving the fireside the moment the hobbits had arrived and to do her best to make an effort in that regard. After all, she had managed in a far worse situation with Halbarad; at least in this case she knew that what the hobbits would go through would end in much that would be of benefit. That and they had always shown her honest kindness and warm friendship.

“I fear this might be one of our last pots of tea for a while,” Frodo said sadly as he inspected the jar. “Enough for one more, perhaps, but even that will likely be a weak one.”

“Well, we are on our way north at last,” Sam replied. “Come Imladris, come tea.”

“And Bilba,” Pippin added. “It will be so good to see him, to tell him all we have been through.”

Frodo smiled warmly. “It will not take us too long either, so Faelon tells me. We will be travelling at a far slower pace than when they came south, admittedly, but it will be but a few more weeks and we can have tea every day once more. Twice a day, indeed!”

“Pipeweed,” Sam murmured wistfully. “And potatoes.”

“Kali and I still have one small pouch of the stuff from Orthanc, Ban…”

“Yes, but I thought we agreed we would eke that out for as long as possible, Raz,” Frodo interrupted.

“Exactly,” Sam chimed in. “What I am talking about is a proper supply of the stuff without worrying about how much you smoke and when.”

“Well, the sooner we pass through this land that lies ahead of us the better as far as I am concerned,” Merry muttered darkly to no one in particular.

Penny, catching most of his meaning even though it was in Westron, cast him a sympathetic look, though perhaps not nearly as sympathetic and open as that which Pippin and the others gave him. Merry, just as Pippin had done with the Gondorians, had entirely taken Rohirric sensibilities about such things to heart. Penny did not doubt for a moment that if anything were to happen as they passed through the Dunlending’s land, Merry would be at the forefront of any fighting to be had, be he surrounded by warrior ellyn and Dunedain or no, such was the strength of feeling with which he had just spoken.

Yes, these were hardier hobbits than those that had left the Shire so many months before.

Merry’s words had darkened the mood once more, albeit unwittingly. The tea helped, but as everyone busied themselves with this and that, Penny and the four hobbits sat in near silence once more, saying little but at least appreciating the moment of stillness, a hot brew and friendly company. Even so, Penny did not stay overlong, muttering something about needing to ready her horse and thankful to look up at that moment and spot Tadion passing nearby. She grabbed her saddlebags and hurried over to him, asking him if he happened to have seen Lindir and whether he might know if her horse was ready or if she needed to fetch the saddle and bridle herself.

Tadion offered to come with her to find her horse. He too was quiet: wincing whenever they passed by a group of people where the laughter was a little too loud or if someone called out too close by. On one such occasion, Tadion gave a loud, exasperated sigh and turned to the ellon in question to ask why it was necessary to ‘yell loud enough to stir Melkor himself’ if elven hearing was as delicate as they always claimed. The ellon, who Penny recognised as one of the Galadhrim, seemed somewhat startled by Tadion’s brusque manner, but Tadion did not wait to hear what response (if any) might be forthcoming and walked off briskly, clutching at his forehead as if regretting having spoken so loudly himself. He glanced sideways and caught Penny raising her eyebrows at him, a smirk on her lips.

“Do not say a word,” he ground out slowly through gritted teeth.

Penny could not help the snigger that escaped her. He rolled his eyes.

“As bad as Halladan,” he muttered.

“Oh?”

“My cousin has a poor taste in humour,” Tadion explained wearily.

Penny smiled, amused. “Does he indeed?”

Then she remembered Arvain’s complaints in Rohan when he had been hungover and Tadion had woken him early with loud singing. She reminded Tadion of his fact and his only response was to look at her with an expression of mild irritation that said ‘not you as well.’ Penny laughed.

“Ah, Pen-ii, mocking the afflicted, I trust?”

Halladan had a broad grin on his face, the grin of a man who does not have a roaring headache but knows one who does. Tadion opened his mouth to say something in response, but Halladan raised a hand and an eyebrow.

“Now, now, Tadion. There are ladies present.” He glanced at Penny conspiratorially, still grinning, and there was the momentary hint of a wink.

Tadion narrowed his eyes at him.

Halladan had stepped over to them a little way, having spotted them through the crowd. He too had come to find Lindir and Penny’s horse once he had saddled his own and had been chatting quietly to Lindir, Elladan and Glorfindel as he awaited her arrival. Tadion handed her over to them all, endured a few jibes about feeling the worse for a tankard too many the night before with, it had to be said, remarkably good grace and then wandered back to find his pack and his own horse (before he finally cracked under the strain and throttled Halladan). As Penny had suspected, Lindir had readied her horse for her, so she had little to do bar strap on her saddle bags.

As she did exactly that she was faintly aware that the other four, all horsed and waiting for the off, had fallen silent even though they had been deep in conversation when she had arrived. When she had hauled herself into the saddle and got herself upright she looked over to them, only for Elladan in that same instant to happen to turn and say something to Glorfindel and Lindir reply, the three of them falling into an easy conversation too quiet for her to hear. She had the distinct impression they had been watching her, though; not intently, perhaps, but certainly enough to make her wonder if she had possibly been the topic of conversation just prior to her arrival. Indeed Halladan had not been quite so quick off the mark as the three ellyn and thus she caught his eye before he could turn his head and pretend to be looking at something else entirely. He gave her a friendly smile instead and a nod of his head. His reaction made her think that whatever might be going on, it was nothing she should be worried about. Or so she hoped, at least.

The sun had still to rise fully above the trees when the train got underway a little while later, and even when it finally did so, it was greeted with a fine drizzle that within a few hours had turned into a steady, light rain. Penny pulled the cowl of Mireth’s spare cloak as far forward as it would go and contemplated how wet her ankles were getting. The weather scarcely helped her mood, and it also meant that gentle banter and chatter amongst the company was somewhat diminished. For the most part all that could be heard all morning above the sound of the soft thuds of horses’ hooves, the occasional snort of an animal and the gentle patter of rain against leather or leaf was elvish song from this or that part of the train.

There was also a certain level of watchfulness and wariness about that Penny recognised as being similar to when they had crossed the mountains on their way south. Just as on that occasion, various members of the company rode on either side of the train, looking here and there every now and then and very obviously ‘on guard’. All the Dunedain were involved in this. Penny got the feeling that being ‘at leisure’ for too long a period was somewhat alien to the Dunedain male psyche, and to be doing something at last was relished by them all. That and it would have been unthinkable for them to allow themselves to ride idly by while others were on lookout around them. They worked in shifts – about half the men working as outriders and lookouts during the morning and the rest taking the afternoon. Halladan was on the afternoon shift, as was Tadion (a concession, no doubt, to his really needing to recover a bit more before he would be in any fit state), but Penny did not see Arvain or Faelon till they stopped for lunch since they were somewhere down near the rearguard for the morning.

As much as Penny’s levels of anxiety were less than the day before (though far from diminished completely), the wave of something other - be it grief, exhaustion or a mixture of both - had rolled back over her to fill the gap last night’s relative reassurance had left. That she was surrounded by a train that was in good spirits but nevertheless quiet and also in a state of, frankly, high alert did not really help matters for all her brain might tell her that nothing was going to happen.

Within some hours of setting off, they had passed between the foothills at the ends of both mountain ranges – the Gap of Rohan itself – thus by the time they stopped for a brief lunch they were already within the Dunlendings’ territory. By early afternoon the rain had eased off enough back to a drizzle so that even Penny could make out the clumps of houses signifying hamlets or farmsteads high on hills in the distance that they occasionally passed by.

Weirdly, the fact that there was no sign of any Dunlendings all day did not really help to ease tensions among the company, since that could only mean that they were hiding themselves away. That they should be so fearful, suspicious or even considered the elves and Dunedain a threat was hardly a positive in their favour, even if it was exactly the behaviour that had been expected of them.

No smoke could be seen from any chimney whenever they came within sight of a dwelling (though they deliberately kept a certain distance at all times), nor child or worker in any field. There were no animals grazing, no horses nor even a dog running wild. To the casual, disinterested observer it might have seemed as if the land was uninhabited and the dwellings deserted, yet even Penny had the distinct impression that was not the case. Rather, it was as if word of their travelling was passing on ahead of them and everything was being done to make it appear as if there was no one to attack nor anything that might be pillaged (since no doubt the Dunlendings would not think anything but ill of them and suspect either scenario - or both - was possible if not highly likely).

Only once, late in the afternoon, did several of the outriders, all ellyn with their keen eyesight, say they saw a solitary watcher high on a hill near the edge of a wooded area, and he dived under the cover of the trees and the safety of their darkness pretty quickly, almost in fear or so it seemed.

“They lost a large number of their menfolk in the battle of the Deep, do not forget,” it was said round the fires that night. “There will have been many women left to fend for themselves and with small children to boot. To have such a large group of those considered in league with their enemies, or on the side of the victors at least, will be a matter of some alarm. They do not have the strength to attack, and it will perhaps be a lesson for them to see us pass through their land and leave them unmolested and in peace. We shall not trouble them and they will not trouble us. It is better that way.”

Even so, the watch was double strength round the camp that night.

At least the drizzle had finally stopped by the time they set up camp. Once more they travelled until dusk and by the time the tents were up and everyone settled night had truly set in. Of course, damp conditions did not mean there were no fires – basic woodsman’s skills were no match for such things – and besides which they camped within the shade of trees, so the ground was not too wet underfoot. Even so most lit small campfires well back under the trees and sat in groups round about them.

Penny did her best to be sociable and interact, glad to have a fire to warm her a little and rid her of the pervasive sense of ‘damp’ she had had all day. However, in spite of thawing out a little she still felt… well, it was hard to describe. ‘Low’ covered it but did not really do it justice. It was as if the stress and strain of all she had been carrying psychologically for the past couple of months had finally just left her numb, weary and listless. The grief which had returned now she was (moderately) less concerned about the hobbits and had let Halladan take on that responsibility for her was not as raw as it had felt even some days ago, but the nature of it had changed. Rather than grinding pain at the loss, at the enormity and finality of it all, she plain missed them: her family, friends, even everything that made twenty-first-century living what it was. It was something that had been niggling away at her all day as she had sat in the saddle, listening to the never ending pitter-patter of the rain, and it had only been when she had realised she was wishing it would all just stop, that she could be warm and dry and comfortable that she finally twigged: she was homesick.

As the afternoon had worn on, it had just become all the more glaring. She was sick of travelling, sick of the sight of horseshit, sick of never having a decent night’s sleep (be it through nightmares or sleeping on nothing but a bedroll), sick of being saddlesore, footsore or simply plain exhausted. She felt if she had to eat another bowl of vegetable stew she was likely to throw it at Naurdir. She was tired of speaking in Sindarin even if it was slowly becoming second nature to her – after all she knew her vocabulary was far from complete and there were still moments when she felt she was expressing herself poorly or in a manner that was not quite ‘her’, more stilted, less flowing than if she had been speaking English.

And once she had started to notice all these things about herself, her situation and how she was feeling, try as she might it was impossible to hold it back. Tiredness did not help and she was indeed tired: mentally as well as from a long day’s travelling and an early start.

That the nature of her mood had changed subtly did not go unnoticed. In comparison to the last few days she was not jumpy, nervous, desperate to be alone or else clearly distressed and trying to cover it. She responded well enough if someone spoke to her, smiled in thanks when Rhimlath pressed a drink on her, but it was all a bit half-hearted, as if she had not the energy to fully engage, as if, truth be told, she wanted to be elsewhere.

Mireth sat close to her that evening, including her in the talk from time to time, but otherwise just providing company for her as well as making herself a foil to anyone else who might try to chat to Penny if she seemed elsewhere with her thoughts. Little did Penny realise it, but in some ways Mireth was behaving in much the same way that Arvain and Faelon had done with Halladan in the week or so before they had arrived at Edoras. Once more Lindir was her partner in crime, though he did head off to be sociable at the elvish fires after a while. Neither did Penny notice that a little while after Lindir had left Glorfindel came to join them and sit beside Mireth, nor that when he in turn went to socialise at the other fires Elladan paid them a visit soon afterwards.

More than one person was in cahoots with Mireth, it seemed.

Arvain and Tadion were on first watch and thus had disappeared almost as soon as camp had been set up. They had food taken out to wherever they were positioned. Faelon and Halladan, having been on duty all afternoon, were to take later watches. Faelon, knowing he would have to be up some hours before dawn, headed off to get some sleep soon after the simple meal of dry stores, but Halladan was on second watch and decided he might as well stay up till then and sleep afterwards.

As much as it was true that Penny had unburdened herself somewhat by telling him all, it also meant Halladan had more to think about. The past few nights had been eventful in one way or another with much to occupy him, but this was a calm, quiet evening much like any other on their travels, and thus it was perhaps inevitable that there be something of the ‘old Halladan’ about him as a consequence, as if he could not quite still his thoughts. Had he been able to chew on the end of a pipe it might have helped, but as it was he had nothing but a tankard of ale and that he had to make last as long as possible since he needed to be on sharp form for his later watch. Nor could the gentle songs and stories provide him with complete ease and distraction. It said much that even Penny was stirred out of her silent contemplation to comment on his restlessness during a moment when Mireth had taken both their cups to refill them and Elladan was busily chatting with several of the Dunedain nearby.

Halladan was yet again readjusting his sitting position.

“Halladan, is anything amiss?”

He looked at her, and sighed through a rueful smile.

“I could ask the same of you, I suspect. No, nothing is amiss but…” Another sigh. “Would you care to walk for a short while, perhaps? I would welcome the distraction. I find I cannot sit still, and my leg could do with the exercise. It was a long day in the saddle.”

Having learnt some time ago she could be at her ease with Halladan, that he would ask no questions and let her be, Penny was happy to oblige and, indicating to Mireth she was heading off for a walk for a while (and Mireth happy enough to see it was Halladan keeping her company to raise no objection in the slightest), they ambled off side by side.

They did not go terribly far, merely beyond the edge of the trees and out under the stars. After a grey day it was now a clear sky, chill and with a slight breeze. Halladan was concerned Penny might get cold so they made their way to her tent so she could collect a shawl to wrap about her, and then they continued their walk, following the edge of the trees, leaving the encampment behind them but still with the odd glimpse of a campfire visible through the tree trunks every now and then. They did not talk, both lost in their own thoughts as they wandered at a leisurely pace, Halladan with his stick but leaning on it far less than he was wont to.

At last Halladan, looking up at the moon, muttered something about how they had better head back since it would be his turn for the watch soon and she had best get some rest. It would be another early start and long day’s travelling on the morrow, he reminded her. The mere mention of it had Penny giving a long, weary sigh, without even realising, as she agreed with him. Halladan glanced sideways at her as she did so, his gaze sharp, but he said nothing.

On their way back to the tents, Halladan caught sight of something in the darkness of the trees and stepped forward to investigate. Quite what he could make out in the near gloom, Penny had no idea, but then he did have the advantage of the keener eyesight of a Dunadan. After a bit of rummaging in the undergrowth, aided by much poking with his stick, Halladan bent down and picked something up, then headed back to join her. She could see his smile was wide enough that his teeth showed in the starlight. She raised her eyebrows in both amusement and bafflement, intrigued. He held up a piece of deadwood, a moderately thick branch, not too long, that was dry, but had not been overly long on the ground and was still relatively ‘green.’

“This will be ideal.”

“They have enough firewood, surely?”

“Not for firewood,” he replied, unconsciously tucking his stick under one arm to inspect the half branch up close with both hands for a moment, “for carving. If I do not find something to occupy myself with now the pipeweed has run out, I shall turn to the ale like my dear cousin.” He glanced up and grinned. “I jest, Pen-ii.” He took his stick out from under his arm and started to head back to the tents once more. “But in truth it is something I often did when in the wilds in the north. I found it a diverting pastime. Though I say so myself, I am a fair enough carpenter.”

Penny’s smile widened. She was not quite sure why this little piece of personal information pleased her so much, but it did. Immeasurably.

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.” He sounded amused.

“No, no, I just… well, I suppose I forget that as well as being warriors and rangers you are, of course, men who have to live practical lives and will have many practical, manual skills.” She glanced at him. “Forgive me. It likely comes from only having ever seen you as the guests of Gondor or else travelling as we are now.”

“Well, you will come to know us in our home lives soon enough, Pen-ii.”

His smile was warm and genuine. He glanced back at the piece of wood in his hand.

“Besides, it is no bad thing, perhaps, if I find something to focus my attention on that does not concern… other matters, do you not think? Elrond mentioned something to me about finding suitable distractions whenever and wherever I could, however simple. I will admit doing that hour or two of leather-work in Rohan was…” He stopped and shrugged. He glanced up at her hair then caught her eye and smiled. “I am glad it was of use to you.”

“It is. Very much.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He made a gesture with the piece of wood to indicate it was nothing. They had reached the tents and paused.

“I will take your advice, I think, and head off for bed. Will you be heading back to the fire, or…?”

“No, no. It is time for me to relieve Bregion on watch.” Bregion was the Dunadan who had lost an eye.

Penny nodded and there followed a brief moment as if both might say something more but did not know what. Then each muttered their goodnights with hesitant smiles and headed off in opposite directions, Halladan still clutching his lump of wood.

The walk had indeed been a pleasant diversion, and as she got herself ready for bed Penny was vaguely kicking herself for not having suggested it to Halladan before he had. The night before he had told her to not stand on ceremony and just do whatever she felt she needed to do, and yet she had still sat there at the fire, not wholly engaging with those around her, feeling as if that was what was expected of her and yet not really in the mood for any of it. Had she been feeling less tired she might have pondered over why it was she felt quite so comfortable and free to be herself in Halladan’s company. As it was she just felt gratitude towards him and was still faintly smiling even as she fell asleep.

The nightmares began again that night. This time she was at her own wake. There had been no burial (because there was no body to bury, of course) but they had had a memorial service of sorts and, as she looked round her mother’s front room, she knew this was the post-service ‘sandwiches and bun fight.’ Everyone was there: family and friends. Some faces were indistinct but she knew who they were nevertheless, even if their clothes were not quite right or their head seemed an odd shape. She was having a really good time at first, chatting to everyone, laughing. Someone even switched on some music and there was dancing for a while, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time, the purpose of it being a wake entirely forgotten within the dream.

It all went horribly wrong when she went into the kitchen to get another drink, only for her brother to corner her and start ranting at her ‘for having disappeared into thin air and how damn dare she not even contact them and let them know she was safe, had she not even SEEN the state their mother was in?!’ He was shouting, practically screaming, his nose almost touching hers, and as he had gestured violently behind him she could suddenly see past him all the way to the sofa and there was her mother, sobbing fit to burst, inconsolable and near hysterical. The wave of guilt had woken her with a jolt and had stayed with her, livid in its clarity, for quite some time afterwards.

Penny barely said a word to anyone for most of the morning.

Faelon had insisted both Arvain and Tadion be amongst the first group of Dunedain outriders. Penny was thankful, knowing she would not have been in any mood to cope with them, given their behaviour at breakfast. The pair at been in fine form, making jibes each others’ expense to the point that it nearly turned into a lighthearted wrestling match when Tadion made a lunge at Arvain (rugby tackle style, with his head in his cousin’s midriff and arms round his waist) and Arvain, caught off-balance and laughing, staggered backwards as he attempted to grab his cousin round the neck, tripped over various bags of Naurdir’s supplies and went flying (but at least had the satisfaction of knowing he had taken Tadion down with him). Many apologies to Naurdir later, Faelon had found the pair some work loading the horses but there were still cheeky grins, smirks and vague insults and threats being bandied back and forth. Penny knew both well enough already to know that, in that kind of mood, they would not leave her be if they saw her quiet or withdrawn, Tadion especially.

She was grateful, as ever, for Halladan’s company, tall, silent and calm beside her. Once or twice he tried to bring her attention to something in the surrounding countryside, but the most she could manage was a nod followed by a half-hearted, apologetic smile and not much else. He did not press it and allowed them to journey the morning in near complete silence for the most part, but he cast her concerned looks every now and then.

The midday meal was as cursory as the previous day’s – a functional affair more than the rest and respite that the evening would provide. Penny made a concerted effort to eat, as much as anything because she was acutely aware her mood would have worried Halladan slightly. Every time she caught his eye he would gesture towards some fruit or a hunk of cured meat with a questioning look. She would refuse, but then deliberately take a bite of whatever was in her hand to reassure him. He would nod encouragingly and smile gently.

After the meal as everyone was preparing for the off, Halladan left Penny in the company of Faelon and Celebdor and went scouting through the assembled throng for Lindir and Erestor, leading his horse by its bridle as he did so. He soon spotted them, both already horsed and ready to depart, and made his way over to them to have a quiet word. Thus it was that, barely five minutes later while Penny wondered whether she dare risk riding with Arvain and Tadion or if she should go on foot with Mireth instead, Erestor made his way towards her on his horse.

“Ah, there you are, Pen-ii. I was wondering if it might be no bad thing for us to start up the Westron lessons once more on a regular basis if you are so minded. After all, we had a lesson in the Deep and one following it. One has to keep on top of such matters or else it all comes to naught, you know.”

In spite of her mood, Penny readily agreed, remembering even as she did so what Halladan had said the night before about ‘even small things being good distractions.’ Erestor, pleased with this response, waited for her to clamber into the saddle and then suggested they ride together and begin at once, even as the vanguard began to move off.

It soon became clear, however, that she could not fully engage herself. Several times, finding the switching back and forth from Sindarin to Westron too much to cope with in her current state of mind, she even replied in English to Erestor. It sounded weirdly alien compared to what she was so used to hearing nowadays. She had noticed the same clash of the familiar and unfamiliar when she had sung two nights before. It also made a rush of emotion well up within her as she heard the words fall out of her mouth, so much so that she eventually stopped doing it and relapsed back into Sindarin. Erestor did not remark on any of this, but he was observing her closely.

It was obvious she was in no fit state to do any practice. Whatever limited vocabulary or grammar she might even normally be able to grapple with would not come to the forefront of her brain, and she was making repeated, silly mistakes nor really retaining anything Erestor was saying. Consequently Erestor made no objection when she suddenly changed the subject onto his poetry. He seemed intrigued to learn she knew he had written it but then admitted he might have guessed when he found out it was Lindir who had told her.

“One does not like to…” He gestured vaguely as if looking for the right phrase.

“You are no Rhimlath, Erestor, I know that.”

“Well, quite.” He seemed quite pleased with himself when he got an almost-chuckle out of her.

They fell into silence. Penny could feel the weight returning as soon as she was not actively engaged in thinking about something else. Erestor was looking at her once more.

“Pen-ii,” he began quietly, “to travel hard work.”

Penny realised he was talking in English and blinked at him.

“Tired is…,” he continued, pausing briefly as he searched for the word he needed in this strange tongue. “Usual?” Penny nodded. “All you thinking,” he continued, pointed at his heart, “no, sorry, feeling, make big tired.” He gave her a soft smile. “We understand,” he further explained in Sindarin.

“We need to work on your grammar, Erestor.”

He raised an amused eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

She grinned. Then it faded into a faint smile. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He inclined his head. They were still talking in English. “You miss saying, no, talking English?”

She glanced away, not quite sure whether to nod or shake her head. She did not really know what she felt about it. She missed it like hell, but at the same time speaking English only reminded her all the more of where she was and of everything that was different.

“Ah, I see,” he murmured in Sindarin. “Yes, I can understand that.” He switched back to English. “If it is helping you, then talking we English when you want. It will be helping my grammar, no?” He was trying to be humorous, but when he saw the expression on her face – appreciative but also a little upset – his broad smile lessened and softened a bit in response. “When you wish, Pen-ii,” he added quietly in Sindarin. “Do not push yourself. I only make the offer and you are welcome to take me up on it or not as you see fit. If you think it might help or ease your heart a little, well…” He smiled.

She nodded, smiling back, but not able to say anything for fear she might start to cry. Being so emotionally raw was not a good sign and she knew it. Damn this relentless travelling! Damn this inability to just stop, to take a break from it all! It just never STOPPED!

She took a deep breath and let out a long, slow, controlled sigh.

“Thank you, Erestor,” she said at last, following his lead and reverting back to Sindarin as well. “It means much.”

“You might find it helpful. You need to talk and perhaps to talk in your own tongue might help you to better express yourself. The very act itself, while emotional, might also be cathartic.” He looked at her. “You cannot carry on as you are, Pen-ii. You must unburden yourself, come to terms with your grief one way or another.”

She looked at him a little taken aback at his perception, then instantly berated herself for being taken back at all – he was an elf, after all, and they were so very canny about such things. Indeed, given her suspicions of quiet conversations being had in the background, no doubt he was not the only one so aware of her state of mind. She also realised with a shock it was near enough exactly what she had said so often to Halladan. Did she really need to be told once more? Were things really that bad? Was it so blindingly obvious to others?

Apparently, ‘yes’ to all three questions.

Oh. Crap.

She was faintly relieved that Lindir and Arvain chose that moment to arrive, having ridden up the line to join them. The three males fell into conversation round her, referring comments to her, explaining matters or throwing asides her way (usually at Lindir’s expense), but by no means pressing her to join in, content to have her merely as a ready audience. It was the perfect way to pass the afternoon given how she felt.

That night Halladan took her off on their own almost as soon as they had finished eating. He scolded her gently for not taking her own medicine implying (not wholly seriously it had to be said) that in so doing she did not trust him completely.

“After all you told me at Orthanc why do you insist on holding things back?”

“That is not fair, Halladan. It is not like that. It is hard to find privacy when we travel, and besides I… well, I do not quite know how to explain it.” She turned away with a sigh then glanced back at him before replying, her tone suddenly more weary than it had been. “I am just so tired of it all. Tired of this,” she gestured vaguely all round her, “of living in tents, of never being able to escape any of it…”

“Escape? Are we such poor company?” He tried to sound light-hearted but his eyes spoke of seriousness and concern.

“That is not what I mean.”

She looked down at her hands. There was a long pause.

“I know exactly what you mean, Pen-ii,” Halladan replied quietly at last, “Do you think I have not felt much the same at times since we have travelled from Gondor? I realise it is hard for you but my father always taught me to try and accept matters as they are, not as you would have them be. That way madness lies.” He gave a rueful half-smile, almost apologetic suddenly. “Yes, yes, I know. How did you put it? The bucket naming the pan black?”

She chuckled. “The pot calling the kettle black, but I understand your point.” She paused, sighing again as she laid her chin on her knees. “What a pair we are, Halladan.”

Halladan said nothing, though for the briefest moment a faint smile flickered onto his face, though it just as quickly disappeared, his brows furrowing and his look growing serious.

She began to talk then about life at home, about the things she missed or were a part of who she was, of her life as it had been; seemingly unimportant little things that somehow had become significant in the light of how she had been feeling the past couple of days. Halladan sat listening to her, partially baffled, partially entranced, as she tried to explain what bananas, pizza or chocolate were or why a story about a man utterly failing to avenge a murder that might not have even happened was considered one of the greatest stories of her people. She missed London, she told him, and then utterly bewildered him by describing what she missed most about it: the greyness, the wet, the noise, the bustle, the cold solitude of feeling utterly alone in a massive crowd of people all streaming past you and ignoring you completely. As serene and pleasant as it was to be surrounded by beauty (be it elven or scenic), it just was not what she was used to. She was homesick, plain and simple. That much Halladan could appreciate. He missed home too, he said. They all did, were all looking forward to seeing their homes, their families, their countryside at last.

They fell silent then, acutely aware as he spoke that, for all they could understand each other, their situations were very different and those differences were, for each, exceptionally painful. Halladan had to face returning to places that would be filled with memories of his father and brother while Penny might well never return home again; and while Halladan’s grief would be tempered somewhat by the comfort of the familiar, Penny had no such solace other than in the newly formed friendships around her.

Several minutes passed by, the silence heavy with their thoughts. At last Halladan shifted slightly, glancing over to her, thinking to suggest a walk to take their minds away from where the conversation had briefly settled. She, distracted by his movement and looking towards him, could not hide the emotion in her face quickly enough. He saw the unshed tears in her eyes, watched as she blew out unsteadily, rolling her eyes up and away in her effort to not let them fall. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms about her as she laid her head upon his shoulder, her breathing heavy and shaky for several minutes more. Whether she wept or not he did not know, though she certainly wiped her eyes as she pulled away from him at last, and his hands lingered, gently clasping her upper arms as he waited till she lifted her face to look at him, wanting to reassure himself she was recovered if only a little.

“Forgive me, Halladan, I…”

“Don’t you dare apologise. Rather I apologise if anything I said—.”

“Oh, nonsense. Have I not always told you that it is better you speak of such things, that I would love to hear more indeed of your life, of what home means to you?”

“That is something which goes both ways, Pen-ii, and I, too, have told you that more than once. I am glad you have spoken more freely tonight than you have in some days. You need to do this as much as I… No, do not interrupt. You know it to be so.” He smiled, waiting till she reciprocated hesitantly. “Now,” he said with a change of tone, only then letting go his hold on her arms and reaching for his stick, “let us walk a little and talk about the stars or the kings of old or indeed you can tell me another tale by this Shig-gez-barr…”

“Shakespeare.”

“Yes, him.”

He held out his hand to help her up and then lead her on a circuit or two of a nearby copse for a half hour or so.

Over the next several days a routine established itself. The small group of those closest to Penny took it upon themselves to provide distractions for her as best they could throughout each day. It was perhaps an added bonus that in so doing they were also keeping Halladan occupied, but in truth it was distraction enough for him to take charge of Penny’s care. He was her guardian and as such she was his responsibility now. Elrond and Gandalf sat back and let him get on with it, both agreeing (after talking with Halladan on various occasions while riding and late at night long after Penny had retired) that, as well as it being Halladan’s duty, for him to be able focus his energies on something outside of himself and his own trauma for a while would be extremely beneficial. Both they, Galadriel and Celeborn were kept fully informed, of course, in case things developed any further or took a turn for the worse, but for the time being it seemed that Penny’s friends could help her through this without anyone else’s intervention.

Every day the small group would, whether by conscious arrangement or unconscious awareness of what was required, meander around Penny, taking turns in keeping her company. She was never left alone, never left without conversation or song to distract her (or Westron lessons in the case of Erestor). None of them pressed her to engage herself more fully, though they would include her as much as possible. Even the hobbits began to involve themselves, without anyone having said anything to them. Just as in Imladris they could see Penny was in a delicate state and also that Erestor was encouraging her in her Westron, thus they took it upon themselves to insist she join them for breakfast every day (or they would come and sit beside her if she were there already) and then talk nothing but Westron with Frodo gently testing her on any objects within sight that he could point at.

Though it barely registered through the fog of melancholy that seemed to have enveloped her, Penny was faintly aware of what everyone was doing and why, and was silently thankful to them. However it was the solace of Halladan’s company she sought most: he had become her touchstone. That common level of understanding between them, even when merely sitting in silence together looking up at the stars listening to elvish song float over to them in the night air, meant that when she was with him she felt at her most comfortable. In the evenings she was invariably by his side, either the two of them walking so that he could exercise his leg or else sitting side by side at one of the fires listening to the stories and songs while Halladan cut and whittled away at his lump of wood in the firelight. Neither needed to explain themselves to the other, neither had to put on a false smile or felt the need to talk to the other, to fill the silence, if they did not feel like it. Indeed, whenever they rode together they barely said a word, and yet both seemed so obviously at ease in each other’s company on such occasions, it was rare that someone came to join them; the one exception being Arvain who would sometimes ride on the other side of Penny: acting as Halladan’s co-guardian, but in some ways always the ‘second in command’ in that regard.

Even so Halladan encouraged her as best he could to talk while they sat or walked. While in company he would get her to repeat some of the plots of books or plays she had tried to describe to him, clearly finding them fascinating and on a par with many others told round the fires. Romeo and Juliet went down particularly well – a story that crossed cultural barriers and had been one she had thought of sharing for some time now for exactly those reasons.

At night, Mireth would often sit beside her while she slept, stroking her hair and whispering elvish words of heartsease and healing, even singing if the nightmares began to disturb Penny enough to visibly agitate her. She would also bring with her a small pot of just-boiled water and into it steep a sprig of athelas, purloined from Elrond and used on his advice.

The days passed by with a slow monotony that was both infuriating and calming in equal measure for Penny. The Dunlendings continued to keep themselves hidden away except for the rare watcher from a far-off hill. The only exception to this occurred on the third day of riding through Dunlending territory, when a group of four riders trailed along beside them for some hours, always maintaining a distance of about a mile or so. The Dunlending riders kept to the high ground, disappearing from view now and then only to reappear once more on the crest of the undulating land to the east and keeping pace easily enough with the slow-moving group in the vale below. It made Penny nervous and everyone else wary. Halladan very deliberately moved his horse round to ride alongside Penny’s right, as if to be in the way if a sudden rush of Dunlendings poured over the hilltops and down at them. Then two hours before nightfall the followers stopped, remaining still and silent, watching the train for quite some time before turning their horses at last and disappearing, never to be seen again.

The land they were riding through was green enough, but not lush as Rohan had been. It was rough and wild, filled with many small woods and copses – remnants of the great wood that had once filled the entire huge area between sea and mountains. At night sometimes several of the older elves, particularly those from Imladris, said they could remember that wood and how great it had been, stretching for hundreds of miles undisturbed, or at least it had until the Numenoreans had cut it all down to build their ships.

Streams poured down from the mountains, wending their way towards the sea, but even so there was never an early stop to allow for bathing. It was stand-up washes in tents for days - a fact that Penny was surprised there was not more bitching about until she learnt that the ellith and ellyn had insisted on midnight swims, not minding if their hair remained damp till dawn.

“Well it has only been the ellyn once so far,” Mireth explained on the fourth day after passing through the Gap of Rohan. “We plan to bathe as best we can this evening if they can find a suitable spot to camp.”

Penny prevaricated and then decided on joining them. She would not wash her hair, though, pointing out that the last thing she needed was to get a head cold. Mireth said she would help her wash her hair the following morning before they set out so that it could dry as they travelled in the summer sun.

Skinny-dipping by starlight in a slow, tinkling brook was quite an experience for Penny. The ellith sang songs as they stood, barely thigh-deep, tipping jugs of water over each other’s hair or smoothing soap over their skin. The night was a warm one and Penny relished the feel of the cool water against her skin, even feeling she could risk washing her hair after all. Mireth poured the water for her and she reciprocated in turn. She felt it in the morning, though, having had not nearly enough sleep to cope with yet another early start. Frodo took pity and they all had the last of the tea, which turned out to be just as weak as he had feared it would be. He and the others also spared her the usual Westron vocab test too.

“Still cannot get used to all this washing in rivers,” Sam muttered, shuddering slightly.

“Needs must, Ban.” Frodo smiled.

“I know, I know. A proper bath is just another thing to look forward to for when we arrive in Imladris, is all.”

As the days went by, for all Penny’s mood did not deepen any further, it did not ease hugely either, merely maintained a certain level whereby she could just about cope with day to day and find sufficient distractions within it to exhaust her enough to be able to then crash out into unconsciousness at night. As time went on, however, she became increasingly conscious of the fact that meeting Saruman could happen almost at any hour. She felt fairly sure it was at least several days after turning north, perhaps even a week or more, but could not remember exactly. It did not help that on the night of the fifth day after leaving Aragorn, as they were taking one of their nightly walks, Halladan broke the silence to ask if she still could not remember when it might happen.

She did not look at him as she replied.

“I told you, Halladan, I cannot be certain.”

He nodded and said nothing.

“I was beginning to wonder once more if I should not talk to Gandalf, Pen-ii.”

“What?!” She came to a halt and boggled at him. This she really did not need. Not again. Not on top of everything else. “But I thought after what happened at the fire that time…”

“That did ease my mind, Pen-ii, it is true. I am still not sure that Gandalf should not know all the facts before he allows him on his way.”

“I am not prepared to talk about this, Halladan.” She was moving once more, stalking off in the direction of the camp.

“Pen-ii…!”

“No, Halladan! We agreed!” She turned to face him but did not slacken her pace, just walked backwards. “You said…!” Her face twisted as she felt angry tears prick her eyes. “You cannot do this, Halladan, not again!” She spun back round and, if anything, picked up the pace, striding out fast now.

“Hey, hey!” He caught up his stick and jogged after her, gently grabbing her by the elbow and bringing her to a stop. “Did we not agree that this would be my decision?” He spoke kindly, trying to calm her rather than rile her. “I have had long watches in the night to think this over, Pen-ii. I will admit once or twice I came close to speaking to Gandalf without consulting you first.” He caught the furious look she gave him, even in the dark. “But I did not. I would not. I promised you.” He sighed. “Do you not still wonder at our decision?”

“Of course I do. How could I not? But then I remember what he said and how he said it and… I just suspect he knows or guesses near. If not the place or the exact actions, then he knows Saruman will do something, something that he could very easily put a stop to if he so chose. I know he does. I am certain of it. Or as certain as I can be.”

Halladan looked away, nodding to himself. They began to walk once more, neither speaking, indeed they did not say a word all the way to Penny’s tent. She was worried he was upset with her.

“Halladan…?” she began quietly as they paused side by side.

A few moments passed before he looked at her, as if lost deep in thought. She could see his smile by the light of the occasional campfire or torch here and there.

“I will not make a decision just yet. Let us see what tomorrow brings.”

He reached out for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly before bidding her goodnight.

But his words proved to be all too prophetic.

Halladan was on duty as an outrider the following morning so Penny rode with Erestor and Lindir, suffering under the weight of Westron declensions and praying for the moment that Lindir might rescue her with an anecdote or song. After lunch Penny and Halladan rode side by side, as was their wont, Arvain in front of them with Elladan beside him. For most of the afternoon they wound their way through a large wood that reached down from the mountain foothills and across their path. It was not until close to sundown that the vanguard found the trees petering out at last and led the train slowly out onto open ground once more.

The western sky was an orange glow, the sun just beginning to dip below the tree line. Penny and Halladan were somewhere near the middle of the train and still under the leafy canopy of the wood when they became aware of a general hubbub of quiet talk up ahead. Elladan rode forward a little way to ask those in front what the matter was, then came back with his eyes wide and his eyebrows up near his hairline. He muttered something to Arvain.

“What?!”

Arvain’s mouth hung open as he turned his head to look at his brother, his expression incredulous. Halladan had no time to ask him what the matter was since Elladan was already explaining to all within earshot. Penny barely heard a word he said, though, because near enough the first thing that had fallen out of his mouth was the very name she had dreaded hearing all this time.

The news was passing back down the train, and fast. Saruman had been spotted the moment the vanguard had exited the wood, a pitiful figure not too far distant with an even more pathetic creature by his side. It said much for his physical state that he was barely recognised until the vanguard were practically on top of him.

Even as Elladan spoke Penny realised they were coming to the end of the trees and could see for herself the small group less than half a mile down the long, low slope ahead. Gandalf and Galadriel were side by side, horsed, Elrond and Celeborn with them but both hanging back a little, the hobbits beside them, and the rest of the train now beginning to pool round them, not stopping exactly but slowing down considerably.

A few very deliberately turned away as they passed by Saruman, refusing to even acknowledge his presence. Most of those who did so were from the Dunedain. However the majority could not help but stare at the frail shell of a once great being, formerly a noble friend of many within the company, now fallen so low and made so wretched by his own evil works. The stares were many and various: some cold, some disgusted, a few hot with rage but far more were filled with pity. These last were the most wounding, ones that, when caught sight of, made the filthy bag of bones and rags flinch as if in pain. The even filthier creature with him cowered behind him in abject terror, though whether of the overwhelming display of power and beauty before him or his master it was impossible to say. It was likely both.

As they rode inexorably onwards, caught as they were in the ever-moving sea of travellers, Penny and Halladan looked at each other only once, Penny in pure panic, her face pale, and Halladan in worried resignation, as if it were all too late now and out of his hands. Penny could feel her heart in her mouth. Then, barely a hundred yards from the small group, she muttered something indistinct, pulled her horse over to one side and slid out of the saddle to her feet. Halladan instantly wheeled his horse to follow her, dismounting quickly and wincing a little as he landed hard on his bad leg.

“Pen-ii? What is it? What ails you?”

“N-nothing, I…” She looked up at him. “I just feel it might be best if I walked.”

Something deep inside her felt terrified at the idea of being seen by him, of risking catching his eye. Gandalf had sensed something about her from the first, so who was to say the same would not be true of Saruman? For all she knew he was no true danger to her, the idea that she might be brought to his attention somehow still completely freaked her out. She would hide away on the other side of the train from him and just walk on by as calmly as her fear would allow her.

Something about her tone meant Halladan instantly understood, or guessed near enough to the truth. He nodded once, curtly.

“A walk will do us both good,” he said simply, turning to do exactly that, but Penny hesitated still and he looked back, reading the alarm in her face. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Pen-ii.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I will protect you.”

The absolute sincerity of the statement, the open and honest truth of his tone of voice and the expression on his face, did not pass Penny by. For a moment she was struck dumb, moved more than she could express by the sentiment. She did not doubt he would have said much the same to any one amongst the travelling group and yet something about the firmness with which he had spoken, the very deliberate way he had looked at her as he had done so told her it was as much to do with his role as guardian if not more to do with the friendship they now had between them. She roused herself, forced a smile at him, seeking strength from his matter-of-fact reassurance, and followed in his wake, leading her horse by the bridle.

The pace was so slow, with many not even bothering to pass by now but mill about and watch proceedings instead, that Penny and Halladan had time enough to watch the scene ahead (when they caught glimpses of it past others on foot or a horse’s rump or legs) as they drew near. Saruman was snarling, an expression of pure loathing on his face as he spoke to Gandalf and Galadriel. There was a brief exchange as Merry stepped forward at one point. Penny noticed several nearby, including Halladan, stiffen instinctively and rest their hands on the pommels of their swords and that a handful of the elves, chiefly Galadhrim, reached across their shoulders, ready to have an arrow notched in the blink of an eye as Saruman suddenly scrabbled towards Merry with his hands. Even as Celeborn glanced round and, with a barely perceptible nod of the head indicated everyone could stand down, it became apparent Saruman was merely after something Merry was holding out to him, part of which Merry, in response to something he then said, quickly snatched back defiantly.

Penny had forgotten about all this, forgotten the threats Saruman had made directly against the Shire that had even had Merry questioning both his possible meaning and intention, let alone wondering how Saruman had come by the Shire’s precious pipeweed in the first place.

There was little point in Penny pressing forward – everything had ground to a halt. Fortunately she had managed to pass by the spot where the conference was being held without being noticed. She stepped forward a little to stand beside Halladan and he instinctively moved a little closer to her protectively.

Saruman was leaving at last, spurning the offers of a last chance held out to him by former friends. Grima hobbled off after him, more doglike than human, bowed and cowering, but clearly as eager to leave the company of the great and good as he was loath to spend one more minute in his master’s company. The vanguard also began to move once more, heading north, following the line of the mountains. Saruman obviously intended to put some distance between them before nightfall, and while he also headed north, turned slightly to the northwest. Even so for some minutes he had little option but trail past the company even as each moved slowly in different directions.

Saruman could not help but throw the occasional narrow-eyed glare at them all as he did so, his mouth turned downward severely in disgust, his face twisted into part scowl, part sneer and the whole conveying scorn, hatred and a good deal of arrogance. His eyes raked across them, taking in faces he no doubt recognised as if they had never meant the least bit to him, till he snorted and made to turn away in loathing but also with a hint of something close to amusement, revelling in the knowledge that the time of the elves he saw there had come to an end. As he did so, though, he did a slight double-take, hesitating momentarily as he caught sight of the one human female in amongst the throng. Penny, unable to tear her eyes away in fascinated horror, was thus fully aware of the moment when it happened. Her throat was so tight as she gasped that she literally squeaked in terror though so quietly none but Halladan heard it.

And even as, in that half-second, Saruman tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge if there was indeed something strange about this woman now she had caught his eye, Halladan had already stepped forward to block his view, taking hold of Penny’s arm to pull her behind him as he angled himself slightly so as to screen her from Saruman’s gaze. He looked defiantly in Saruman’s direction all the while, as if daring him to guess the truth, daring him to do anything about it, but horses and several walkers moved between them for a moment, and when the way had cleared once more, Saruman’s back was turned to them and Grima was barely visible in the long grass.

Author’s Notes:

Please take it as read that Erestor’s English would have a strong accent, just as ‘Penny’ is pronounced ‘Pen-ii’ by everyone, or when Lindir has quoted song lyrics back at her before now. However, if I’d written all of Erestor’s speech that way it would have been near incomprehensible gibberish to read. For what it’s worth, though, I did do a transliteration both to prove my point and also for your amusement:-

“Pen-ii, to trahvill haad wuk. Tayyed iz yoo-juw-wil. Orl yoo thinkkin-geh, noo, saw-rii, feelin-geh mayk biig tayyed.” … “Yoo arr wal-cohm. Yoo miiz sigh-in-geh, noo, tawkin-geh Iingliis?” … “If iit iz halpin-geh yoo, than tawkin-geh wii Iingliis whan yoo waant. Iit wal bii halpin-geh mai gram-marr, noo?”

See what I mean? *giggles*

The details of the Numenoreans cutting down the mighty wood that spanned from Eriador all the way south to edge of what would become Rohan can be found in Unfinished Tales.

As ever, my sincere thanks and appreciation to all of you for sticking with me/this fic and continuing to read, despite the length of time chapters take to appear these days. My particular thanks go to all those who leave reviews, comments, con crit and/or track me down and send messages. Hugs to you all, and I’m only sorry I can’t write this thing any quicker of late. Here’s hoping, right?