My sincere apologies for the length of time this chapter has taken to appear. I cannot promise the next chapter won't take as long, but I truly hope it won't. Thank you for your patience.

Chapter 52 – “Oil on Troubled Waters”

Halladan waited until he was certain that Saruman was walking away without a backward glance, and only then did he turn round to Penny. He had not let go of her arm, and in the same moment that he had first taken hold of her, even as he had stood glaring in Saruman’s direction, Penny had instinctively stepped up close to him, hiding herself behind him and resting her free hand on his back, barely daring to breathe.

Now that he looked down at her, Halladan could see she was pale. Very pale, in fact, to the point of looking positively chalky if not faintly green about the gills. Halladan wondered if she was about to throw up. One of his hands was now resting on her upper arm while the other still loosely held onto her wrist. That hand now slid downwards to take her hand into his own. She looked up at him, swallowing hard, struggling to control herself. He could feel the tremor in her hand and in her arm.

“How do you fare?”

She nodded stiffly and almost managed an attempt at a forced smile. It was clear she did not trust herself to speak.

“Come,” he said gently.

Penny did not protest as he propelled her in front of him the mere few feet to his horse, meekly climbing up into the saddle as he held her just above her waist - part helping her up, part making sure she did not fall. He quickly climbed up after her, seating himself in front of her. He did not need to ask her to hold on this time. She automatically placed her hands firmly on either side of his waist, not trusting herself to not fall off if she did not given how shaky she felt. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against his back, feeling tears prick her eyes with the release of tension. She sensed him turn his head towards her slightly, felt the rumble of his voice in his back as well as hearing him speak.

“He has no power, Pen-ii,” he murmured. “In his voice still, perhaps, Gandalf says, but besides that he is nothing. He can not harm you, nor would he dare try surrounded as you are by so many that would protect you and protect you well.”

He looked round to Penny’s horse and called it. It obediently followed along behind even as Halladan started his own horse off at a walk.

“He saw me, though, did he not?”

Her voice was a whisper, hoarse with worry and not a little fear. There was a long pause before Halladan replied and he spoke slowly at first, as if picking his words carefully.

“For an instant, yes, I believe so, but not long enough for him to have made anything of you, of that I am certain. To him you were a mere traveller amongst us. I blocked his view and his interest moved on.”

Penny did not reply. Halladan’s head turned round towards her as if he might say something more and he laid his right hand over hers on his waist, letting it rest there for a moment.

“Trust me, Pen-ii,” he said with a soft intensity. “You have nothing to fear. I know it.”

He patted her hand gently twice with his fingers and then lifted his hand away, placing it back on his thigh once more.

That Penny was riding with Halladan once again did not go unnoticed, of course. Within five minutes or so Arvain came down the line towards them. He caught Halladan’s eye, glanced back to Penny, who still had her face near enough buried into Halladan’s back, and then back at his brother, his look questioning. Halladan very slightly shook his head. Arvain raised his eyebrows in surprise and concern. He fell in line alongside them but before he could say anything another voice cut across him.

“Is anything amiss? Is Pen-ii unwell?”

It was Rhimlath. Halladan exchanged a glance with Arvain even as Rhimlath gently reached across to touch Penny on the arm.

“Pen-ii?”

She roused herself, pulling herself back from Halladan and smoothing her hair away from her eyes with one hand. She tried to smile and failed.

“I am quite well, Rhimlath, I assure you.”

Rhimlath took one look at her and then turned to Halladan. His voice was serious with genuine concern.

“What has happened?”

Halladan sighed. “She… took fright when Saruman caught sight of her.”

At this Arvain’s face darkened and one of Rhimlath’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“Indeed?” he said, archly.

“I have told her she has nothing to fear,” Halladan continued, “and she knows that—”

“I do, Halladan, it was just—”

“No, no, there is no need to explain,” Rhimlath cut across them. “It is entirely understandable.” He smiled reassuringly at her, though she could see something hard in his eye at the same time. Somehow she knew instinctively it was not directed at her. “Is there anything you require? Some water, perhaps? Or, no, I know…” He swiftly undid a small, ornate silver flask (with turquoise and mother of pearl inlay) that hung from his belt and handed it across to her. “Please. Take a sip. It will ease your heart a little.”

“Oh, no, Rhimlath, I could not. There must be precious little in that small a flask and I…”

Rhimlath flapped his hand at her to shush her. “Nonsense. Drink.”

Penny smiled gratefully, nodding in thanks and uncorked the top, making sure she only took one small sip. Rhimlath made a gesture to indicate she should take another, slightly bigger one before allowing her to cork it once more and hand it back to him. She could feel the warmth of the mirúvor spreading from her throat down her chest and throughout her body, even before he had finished attaching it back onto his belt.

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

He rode with them for the remainder of the evening and, for once, Penny was glad to have the distraction of him chattering away at them about the various kinds of plants and trees about them, how they were obviously related to similar plants in Lothlorien (though, of course, far inferior which, he maintained, was only to be expected given they were on the wrong side of the mountains; Penny caught the look Arvain and Halladan shared at that point and had to look away from Rhimlath before he spotted her trying not to laugh), as well as what kinds of wildlife might be found where (something that both Halladan and Arvain could also discuss and agree with him about, for once).

Penny was still rather shaky, though, when they finally stopped to make camp. She found she felt rather weak and sick when she dismounted Halladan’s horse and dimly wondered, if that was the case, how she would have felt had she not had the mirúvor. She hung about, feeling rather pathetic, as Halladan unsaddled his horse and unloaded his pack, bedroll and saddlebags. He was about to ask Arvain to take his horse and Penny’s, when Rhimlath stepped in to offer to do exactly that, saying only a word for all four horses, including Arvain’s and his own, to follow behind him obediently.

“How do they do that?” Penny murmured quietly to herself.

Arvain chuckled. “Ah, the ways of elves are strange indeed, Pen-ii.”

“I heard that!” Rhimlath’s voice floated back to them over the crowd.

Halladan quietly suggested to Arvain that he should take Penny to find Mireth and her tent, while he himself went off to find Gandalf and let him know what had occurred. He was not overly concerned, but still felt it was potentially significant enough that he should do so. As he wandered off into the crowd, Arvain shepherded Penny to where the tents were already being set up where they soon spotted Mireth with a small group of ellith gathering together baggage and discussing which water sacs would need filling as the groups of ellyn worked.

Mireth could see Penny was not quite herself and, in spite of Penny’s protests, wrapped a shawl around her, took her saddlebags from her and then insisted she go with Arvain to sit by a fire and not worry about helping to sort out the tent. So Penny went with Arvain while he tracked down Faelon and Tadion, sitting quietly to one side while they, along with three or four others, erected their own tent. Halladan joined them just as they were finishing. They had managed to get their tent up relatively quickly for once, apparently. So much so, that Faelon felt compelled to comment on it, declaring that Tadion obviously found Penny’s presence ‘wonderfully conducive to knowing his backside from his elbow which made a pleasant change.’ Tadion seemed embarrassed and flummoxed in equal measure by this observation and the loud laughter it provoked. He smiled and laughed hesitantly (if not a little incredulously). However, Halladan seemed strangely uncomfortable, muttering sharply about ‘needing to get on with it and get Penny in front of a warm fire, if you could stop your incessant chuckling for just one minute, Arvain!’

To one side of where the Dunedain tents and awnings had been set up, wood had already been collected by Bregion and a few others. Penny watched with a fascination that never waned, no matter how many times she saw the process, as Bregion, on his knees with a ball of dry moss and grass in his cupped hands, blew into it after another Dunadan had struck a flint over it so that a spark flew into it. As it began to smoke, a small ‘nest’ of twigs was being built by Faelon, and within seconds a small flame appeared in the middle of Bregion’s hands and he pressed the whole under the mound of twigs as Faelon laid more dry grass and moss on top. Building the rest of the fire was easy.

“One night we shall have to show you how to make fire when you have no flint,” Faelon said to Penny. “An essential skill in the wild and it takes practise.”

“Rub two sticks together, no?”

“Well, yes, Pen-ii, but it is not as simple as you make it sound. There is a technique to it.”

“I can remember Hirvell trying to teach me once,” Tadion said, coming to sit next to Penny. “I was only eight or so, and he had been out with Halbarad and had just learnt how. He was so proud of himself.”

Halladan laughed. “I remember that. I went with them that trip.”

“Yes, I remember it also,” Arvain said, sounding vaguely aggrieved, or rather sounding as if he was trying to sound vaguely aggrieved, but was enjoying playing the part so a hint of amusement came through at the same time. “I had wanted to go and you would not let me.”

“Me?!”

“Yes! Both of you, in fact! Father had been wavering but the pair of you said I was too young and how you had never gone into the wilds with him when you had been my age, so in the end I had to stay with Faelon instead.”

“Ah, well, Arvain, you went with your father and brothers when you were old enough in the end, did you not?” Faelon was sitting back, grinning.

“That is hardly the point, Faelon. I never heard the end of it from Hirvell when he came back from that trip. He was setting fires left, right and centre.”

“That is true enough,” Halladan muttered ruefully.

“Was that the incident with Bregion’s chickens?” Faelon asked, thoughtfully.

“What was that?” Bregion looked up.

“Yes,” Halladan and Arvain said in unison.

“As I was saying,” Tadion interrupted forcefully, “Hirvell reckoned he could teach me now he knew how to do it…”

Halladan laughed. “Ai, I can just imagine. And? What happened?”

Tadion pointed at his cheek. “See that?”

Halladan leaned past Penny to squint. “No.”

“How can you not see it?! Pen-ii!” He turned to her. “Can you see it? Small scar, shaped like a knife mark…”

Penny looked hard and could see nothing in the shadowy gloom of the fire. “Er… possibly…?”

“Damn stick flew into my face on the fourth try!”

There was laughter from those listening.

“I remember that!” Arvain cried. “Ai, your mother was furious!”

“Hardly Hirvell’s fault,” Halladan pointed out.

“Well, no,” Tadion admitted, “but Mother still felt he should have known better.”

“Could have had your eye out,” Arvain said ponderously, nodding his head seriously.

There was a pause and then he, Halladan and Tadion collapsed into laughter. Faelon, still grinning, shook his head at them.

“Now, now,” he said.

“What?” Arvain was sniggering. “She says it all the time!”

“I will not have you say a word against my mother!” Tadion protested, though he was laughing harder than anyone.

“She is a good woman, Tadion,” Halladan said, chuckling.

“Ah, that she is. That she is.” Tadion sighed. “It will be good to get back home.” His face clouded momentarily. “I was loath to leave her.”

“She will have gone to stay with Morfinniel, Tadion, you know that. I sent word to Morfinniel that she should send for her the moment I headed for Imladris to meet Halbarad. I told you that.”

Tadion nodded. “I know. It is only that with Father gone…”

Arvain clapped him on the back. “Hey, now! You know as well as I do she would have been mortified if you had stayed with her rather than ridden south with us.”

Tadion nodded once more, but he said nothing. Several Dunedain had arrived with stores from Naurdir and were busily handing out fruit and cured meat. Another was tapping a keg of ale. There was a moment of silence. Penny loved hearing them talk like this and to be included in such an informal, familial discussion. She knew little of Tadion’s background, only that his father, Arvain and Halladan’s maternal uncle, had been killed by a troll a few years ago and that his mother, apparently something of a strong-willed woman, had determinedly stayed in their small cottage miles from anyone else. While Tadion had spent some time with the brothers as boys, she got the impression it was only when he had come with his father for visits. She was pleased beyond measure at the talk of Hirvell and that it had had both Halladan and Arvain laughing.

“Um…” she began hesitantly. They all looked at her. “Dare I ask, but… what exactly happened with Bregion’s chickens?”

As they ate Penny was told the tale of how Hirvell had burned down Bregion’s chicken coop barely a week after he had returned from the wilds having learnt to start a fire without flint. He had been so proud of himself that he had practised constantly, determined to perfect the technique since it was, they all assured her several times, something that took practise to achieve well and quickly. On this occasion he had failed to fully stamp out the smouldering embers amongst the dry grass near Bregion’s smallholding, more or less round the back of the chicken coop.

“Father spent a week rebuilding that thing,” Arvain explained.

“I tried to help, but he would have none of it,” Bregion, across the fire, chipped in.

“No doubt felt it was his responsibility given it was Hirvell’s doing,” Faelon added.

“Oh, he had Hirvell with him,” Halladan pointed out. “Made Hirvell do much of the work too.”

“I can remember him complaining loud and long once we were abed,” Arvain chipped in.

“Ah, yes!” The others joined in Halladan’s laughter. Then, as he continued to speak, Halladan’s voice changed slightly and, as Penny listened, she realised with delight and surprise in equal measure that he was doing an impression of his brother. “I have splinters, Halladan, I swear it! Light a candle, Halladan, I’ve found another one!” The laughter round them all was loud now. Halladan’s voice reverted back to his normal soft baritone, though he still laughed as he spoke. “Just about every one of his fingernails was black from hitting them with the hammer.” For a moment they were all lost in the memory then slowly the laughter faded and everyone was left with soft smiles, though there was a note of sadness, perhaps, in the silence.

“Ever getting himself into trouble, that one,” Faelon said quietly at last.

Given it had been Halladan who had carried the conversation for a while, it might have been expected for him to reply to Faelon, but he did not. He was staring fixedly at a point at the ground in front of him. Almost as if some unspoken decision was made by those nearby, the conversation picked up and continued around him.

Bregion snorted softly. “Have you forgotten Arvain as a boy, Faelon?”

Arvain, who had fallen as silent as his brother, looked up sharply.

“Hey!”

“That is true enough, Bregion. The pair were certainly something of a handful at times.”

“I was not a…! Do not listen to them, Pen-ii, it is all lies.”

Faelon was laughing once more. “Oh, indeed? I am sure I could think of a dozen instances at least that would more than prove my point!”

Arvain glared at him while Tadion snickered. Penny was aware of a soft snort, almost a chuckle, from beside her and glanced up to find Halladan smiling gently in the firelight. Clearly he was on Faelon’s side. But whatever tales Faelon could entertain them with would have to wait for another day, because even as he spoke Glorfindel appeared with one of the Galadhrim to discuss the rest of the night’s watch and who might be needed and when.

While they were now on the edge of Dunlending territory and would, on the morrow, head on into unpopulated countryside, they had still set up camp late, and the watch would still be double-strength. It was one last precaution against the Dunlendings, yes, but meeting Saruman less than two hours down the road, let alone the manner in which he had treated them all, was an event that in itself meant that no one would take their share of the watch alone tonight.

All this was discussed within Penny’s hearing and she could barely manage a thin smile when she caught Halladan’s eye. He tried to look reassuring, but Penny could not stop the knot of nerves forming in her stomach. It was entirely irrational, she knew, but what with everything else she had been feeling of late… She suddenly felt she had lost her appetite, setting down the piece of bread in her hand uneaten and refusing an offer of another slice of dried Minas Tirith sausage.

Halladan gave a wry smile.

“Missing chok-illit?”

“Something like that.”

She was staring into the fire. Faelon caught the look Arvain and Halladan shared as he crossed over to them, his discussions with Glorfindel done and four Dunedain already leaving to take up their posts.

“Saruman would be foolish indeed to attempt to come near us this night,” he said casually to no one in particular as he sat down next to Halladan, “nor do I have any genuine fear that he will do so.”

“Even so it is as well to be wary,” Halladan said quietly. “Who knows what goes on in that twisted mind of his.”

Faelon glanced at him, curious, but did not ask why Halladan was speaking with quite such vehemence in his voice. Beside Halladan Penny stirred.

“If you will excuse me,” she murmured, getting to her feet and brushing down her skirt behind her.

“Pen-ii…?” Halladan was already reaching for his stick, preparing to come with her.

“In truth, Halladan, if you do not mind I would prefer to be alone. Just for a little while.”

“Oh. Of course.”

He seemed a little surprised, concern clear on his face. Arvain, watching his brother, happened to catch Faelon’s eye. It was as if both men were thinking the same thing, and, in their shared look, some sort of understanding passed between them, though what it was only they knew.

“I will not be long. Besides, I need to…” Penny gestured in the vague direction of the latrines.

That mollified him. He nodded and smiled, resting his stick back on the ground. However he glanced round to watch her leave, not turning back to the others till she was lost in the darkness and even then only after Faelon had said his name twice and Tadion had seen fit to kick him in the ankle to get his attention.

As Penny walked, she stayed within the confines of the area delineated by the tents, unconsciously keeping a line of them between her and the open green space beyond. They were camped within a small valley, a stream running through it and a tiny copse at one end of it with its trees stretching out down the banks of the stream towards the encampment. Guards were placed on the high ground all round them as well as at either entrance to the little vale, and it was easily guarded. Even so, the momentary shock of the afternoon on top of the pervasive world-weariness and homesickness had knocked Penny’s logic circuits for six and she did not dare step outside of the ‘safety’ of the camp, even though she knew well enough others were no doubt stretching their legs a little in the gloom beyond.

She still felt oddly shaky and weak. Not physically, not as if her legs would buckle under her, but mentally all at sea. It was a very odd feeling. She was also very conscious of the fact that, so long as he did not double back on himself (which her head knew was unlikely even if the rest of her had yet to be convinced), Saruman was now headed directly for the Shire, with his exchange with Merry no doubt fresh in his mind. Guilt gnawed away at her along with everything else.

The talk at the fire had helped a little. She had even been able to step back from her own emotions enough to be pleased for Halladan, that he could enjoy such stories and contribute to them for once. Admittedly, there had been that moment of quiet stillness from him, but he had managed to move on from it without incident. Thinking about it as she walked, she smiled softly to herself, pleased for him beyond measure.

“That is a curious smile, Pen-ii. I wonder what you could be thinking about.”

Penny, startled out of her reverie, looked up to find Galadriel a little way ahead of her. Where she had come from or where she might have been going, Penny had no idea. There was no one nearby though the main elvish fire was visible a little way to Penny’s left beyond the nearest line of tents.

“L-Lady Galadriel, I… Good evening to you.”

“And to you, my dear.” Galadriel inclined her head slightly by way of greeting. “Off to meet young Halladan for one of your nightly walks?”

“No. I… wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Oh?”

There was a pause.

“Come. Walk with me a little.”

It was said in the nicest, gentlest possible way and yet there was no refusing it. There was a subtle authority in the way Galadriel spoke at times that left you in no doubt that, for all she was soft as springtime and twice as beautiful, she was an ancient, powerful and noble elf, none the like of which still walked outside of the West.

Galadriel turned and floated down between two tents, stepping beyond the edge of the camp towards the trees. She glowed in the starlight, her hair like liquid gold. It almost took your breath away to look at her. Penny followed behind. Here and there figures could be seen also taking an evening perambulation, though none were nearby. When they at last reached the edge of the copse, Penny followed as Galadriel stepped lightly and slowly amongst the trees, here and there her hand resting on tree trunk for a moment or two, her fingers tracing the lines and cracks almost as if she were able to sense their age and how they fared by touch alone. Once or twice Penny caught glimpses of elves here or there, talking quietly in the darkness or enjoying the feel of being amongst trees, but they never came near.

When Galadriel spoke at last she did not look at Penny to begin with.

“I heard what happened earlier this evening, my dear. You are fortunate indeed to have one as quick-witted, fearless and noble as Halladan as your guardian, though in that respect he is much like any of his race. I doubt that Curunir would have been able to fathom anything about you from such a brief glance. You do not need to concern yourself, but then… I am sure you know that.” Only now did her glance flicker in Penny’s direction, a soft and strangely enigmatic smile on her face. “After all, you would know better than I, perhaps, if Saruman were not travelling straight upon the path that he so clearly chose for himself this evening.”

Penny hesitated. Had that wording been deliberate? Elves might talk in riddles sometimes, but they always chose their words very carefully.

“I… am not sure I…”

But Galadriel either had not expected an answer or else had read all the answer she needed to from Penny’s reaction. She continued to meander slowly through the trees.

“It saddened me greatly that he looked upon us as venomously as he did. I had hoped it would not be so in spite of everything.” She sighed and there was a pause. “Tell me, did you confide your secrets to Halladan?” Penny felt her eyes widen in shock even as Galadriel glanced at her once more. “Ah, indeed? Good.” The smile was genuine and warm. “You needed to, and we did wonder if that was the case. The two of you have become so close, providing comfort for each other in your pain. Much solace is to be found in the company of one who understands your heart, Pen-ii.” There was another brief silence and Galadriel stopped walking for a moment. “You have been most anxious of late.” She had spoken softly and now lifted her head to look directly at Penny. “I waited for I knew not what, but after meeting Curunir on the road this evening I realised the time had now come. Is there anything you wish to ask me?”

It was not the question Penny had been expecting. If anything she had expected the usual ‘is there anything you want to tell me?’ routine, but not this, not… unless…

Penny stared at her.

“You know,” she breathed, her astonishment clear even though Galadriel was all but confirming what Penny had always suspected was the case.

“Know?”

“You know what he will do.”

“Oh, I cannot know. Not for certainty. If you mean to ask me if I have seen what might occur, then that is certainly true. I saw it some time ago.” Again that look that seemed so gentle, so innocuous, and yet gave you the very distinct impression that she was boring holes into your brain. “My gifts to the Walkers were not wholly ornamental. I am sure you know that, knew that indeed long before I gave them, long before they were used. Some proved useful to them… some may yet be useful still.”

Relief flooded through Penny. It was as if a dam burst. Her face dropped into her hands as she choked back a sob.

“Now, my dear, there, there.”

A gentle hand fell upon her shoulder, another came to cup her cheek, lifting her face so she looked up into Galadriel’s, tears streaming. Galadriel was smiling sadly and her eyes spoke of the long ages she had seen and all the wisdom she had learnt from what she had witnessed. There was a near infinity of understanding in those grey eyes, a pure acknowledgement of what it was to have to watch calamities unfold, to let fate take its course, to see those you loved fall, that which you held dear crumble to dust.

“You kept silent all this time because you feared influencing us perhaps? After all, they are a people very dear to Mithrandir who have proved their worth and their nobility in what they have achieved at our behest and encouragement. It will distress him greatly should it come to pass, as assuredly it will now that Curunir has spurned us one last time. But know this, Pen-ii: we cannot hold back the threads of fate, only untwist them now and then, but they will pull along the path preordained for them nonetheless.”

And then she turned away and spoke in terms that almost had Penny reeling. She spoke in a way that Penny had only ever known elves hint at before, except perhaps for that time when Arwen had sung to her in Imladris and she had read and felt so much within her song despite knowing very little Sindarin at that point. In her mind’s eye, almost as if Galadriel were painting it within her mind, she spun above the world, looking down upon it and seeing how all within it were so many ants or pieces on a chessboard, and yet here and there shone a bright light, a constant who barely moved while all around them scurried hither and yon, stopped abruptly or started to move, stirring into life.

These were the terms in which the elves and the Ainur saw themselves.

As she mentally floated back down to earth, Penny became more aware of what Galadriel was actually saying.

“We have our own paths to tread, and the same is as true for Curunir as for Maura or any of his people. If we thought he could truly cause them any great harm, do you think we would have offered him our hand of friendship? Do you truly think Mithrandir would have allowed him on his way?”

“They will go down in history for what they do when they return. It is because of all they learnt here in the south, all that they faced… They return already heroes to all of Arda, but then prove themselves heroes to all of their own people on their own terms. They know nothing of Kings or Dark Lords or wars. But when Kali blows the horn of Rohan and rallies them to his call, and when Ban and Raz incite them all to rise up against the menfolk who have sullied their land and sought to enslave them… Much that is good will come from this.”

Galadriel was nodding and smiling, though looking out up the stars. There was a long pause.

“Let Saruman tread carefully,” Galadriel said quietly at last. “He could yet turn round and seek our hand. He will not, but he could. Let him beware his spiteful and malicious nature. It will be his ruin. Nor will it be at the hand of any of Maura’s people.”

Penny would have answered her, but the look Galadriel gave her told her she did not need to confirm a thing. Galadriel smiled.

“Take comfort, Pen-ii. Take comfort and let your heart be eased. Others have made this decision, not you. Allow the burden to fall from your shoulders.”

“It will be so changed,” Penny said quietly, clear distress in her voice. “It was a place safe, cut off from all around it, not knowing anything of such things…”

“And yet you just said to me much good will come of it. Long after Lothlorien has fallen still and quiet, a piece of it shall remain in Suza, surrounded by song and laughter.” She looked down at Penny, her face a mixture of pleasure, pride and infinite sadness all combined. “Our time has ended, Pen-ii. Who are we to interfere in matters so trivial? The great threat has fallen, and this lesser thorn shall choose his own path, be it for good or ill.” She looked out beyond the tree line, down the length of the west-facing valley. “No longer will we intervene, nor are we needed. All that was foretold has come to pass. All is finished at last.”

There was a long silence then before she glanced down at Penny once more.

“Go. I shall stay here a while. Go and seek out the family of Halbarad and the Dunedain. They are your people now.”

So saying, she lifted her hand once more to Penny’s cheek and, all at once, Penny was aware how very young she must seem to Galadriel, indeed to any elf. Something in that gesture, and not simply the maternal nature of it, made Penny feel as if she were a mere child once more. Galadriel’s lips might have been moving, she could not be sure, but if they were she heard no sound, only a slight breeze stirring the leaves above them, and it seemed as if, for the merest moment, the starlight glimmered a little brighter in Galadriel’s hair and glinted off the jewels in her skirts. Galadriel smiled, lifted her hand away and nodded very slightly.

Penny took that as her cue to leave and did so, pausing as she reached the edge of the trees to look back for a moment.

“Thank you.”

Galadriel said nothing, only smiled once more and then turned to walk amongst the trees.

As it happened, Penny stepped out from the line of trees and practically walked into the back of Rhimlath and a small group of Galadhrim. The Galadhrim smiled politely at her and Rhimlath offered to walk her back the fifty yards or so to the encampment. As they walked Rhimlath was actually rather endearing in his quiet enquiries into how she was faring. Given her conversation with Galadriel, Penny could honestly tell him she felt much better.

When they reached the tents, Penny insisted Rhimlath rejoin his friends and immediately went to find Halladan and let him know what had happened. She did not have to go far. She met him on her way to the Dunedain main fire, he having decided that she was taking far too long ‘for a mere visit to the latrines’ and thus had come to find her.

She shook her head and laughed softly at him. “You worry too much.”

“I do?” He seemed amused by something. “You seem to be in a better mood. What happened while you wandering alone in the dark?”

She told him about her conversation with Galadriel, word for word as best she could. At the end of it he was nodding slowly and thoughtfully.

“Well, you did say you suspected as much.”

“I know, but it is one thing to think it and another to learn it is the case.”

“Oh, indeed. And she has told Mithrandir?”

“I presume so. I did not ask.”

“Ah.”

“It would seem unlikely she would keep it from him, and something of what she said seemed to suggest she had not.”

“And even if she saw fit to do so, who are we to challenge her judgement, her great wisdom? Ai, Pen-ii, I cannot tell you what relief it is to me to hear all this.”

“For me also, Halladan.”

“Yes, of course.” He held her eye. “I am glad of it.” He smiled.

Penny returned his smile but at the same time looked away, feeling faintly awkward and unable to look at him directly.

They decided not to return to the fire straight away. Halladan said he wanted to exercise his leg a little and, besides, the hobbits were at the fire, Merry rueing returning the pipeweed to Saruman and he and the others pondering much on Saruman’s warning that they had best watch out for what might greet them when they returned home. Halladan admitted frankly that it had been that conversation as much as Penny being over-long that had spurred him to come and look for her.

“When Tadion found out it was the tobacco pouch Kali had taken back from Saruman, he insisted on sniffing it. You should have seen the smile on his face just to get a scent of the pipeweed.” Halladan was grinning and chuckling. “He then wondered if the leather might have absorbed any of the pipeweed’s flavour and if it could be chewed. Even went as far as asking Kali if he would object to him cutting it open. Do you know I honestly believe he was not wholly joking! If Kali had given the merest hint of allowing him to do so, he would have done it, I am sure of it!”

They both laughed before falling into a comfortable silence.

“It was wonderful to hear you all talk of your childhoods a little tonight,” Penny said a little hesitantly after some minutes. “About Hirvell, I mean.”

Halladan nodded and looked away for several moments before glancing back at her. He could tell she wanted to ask more but did not dare.

“Yes, it was…” He smiled slightly but could not finish the sentence and Penny quickly changed the subject.

The next day saw a change of mood in the camp. A late start and a relaxed breakfast over which there was much banter and gentle laughter helped set the tone. For the first time in days Penny seemed more inclined to join in with conversation, or at least smile and acknowledge the fact when Arvain scored one over on his cousin by getting the hobbits to laugh so hard Merry very nearly choked on an apple (and had to have his back patted hard by Frodo) at the tale of a small, naked Tadion pelting his elders and betters with rotten crabapples and then weeing all over his uncle Halbarad.

“You were the one that had taken me paddling in the stream, Arvain!” Tadion retorted as he tried gamely to ignore Merry’s muffled coughs. “You were the one who said it would best to let my clothes dry in the sun rather than have Mother see them!”

“And Arvain was the one who set up the ‘fort’ to be defended from ‘orcs’ at all costs, I seem to remember,” Halladan muttered quietly to no one in particular.

“Exactly! And it was not my fault that when Uncle finally caught me, he tickled me so hard I...”

The glance Tadion threw Mireth and Penny as he stopped short showed how even his fairly thick skin had been pricked at mention of his wetting himself, even as a small child, in female company.

“Just you wait,” he hissed vehemently brandishing the hunk of bread he was holding at his cousin, suddenly (and somewhat surprisingly) a little embarrassed. “Just you wait, Arvain.”

Arvain sniggered and waved a hand dismissively, but before he could respond both he and Tadion were distracted as Merry, his breath finally caught, explained he had laughed so hard because it had reminded him of a not too dissimilar tale from Pippin’s misspent youth. Much to Pippin’s loud protests and everyone else’s encouragement Merry then related all in lurid detail (with asides and additions from Sam and Frodo, of course), and even Pippin was having a fit of the giggles by the end of it, so entertaining was Merry’s performance.

As the day progressed the landscape around them began to change. It was lush and green, but wild and wild in a way that even the Dunlending countryside had lacked. It was clear even to Penny that travellers were rare indeed here. It was the countryside, the open wilds in their rawest form, and it was perhaps no accident that the Dunedain seemed that much more upright in their saddles, that much more energised even talkative than they had been. Wild country stirred their blood, and the scent of home was in the wind.

There was no sign of distant habitation anywhere, nor would they find any for many days yet. Late summer flowers were in bloom, dotting the long grass with splashes of colour, and every copse was filled with birdsong. They headed in a steady northerly direction, the mountains looming large to their right in the east, every now and then travelling along patches of broken causeway. However, unlike when they had been travelling through Dunlending country when they had frequently encountered stretches where, even if the road itself did not exist, you could see where the Greenway once had been (since the grass grew thinly and the vestiges of the way could be marked out), now the spaces between the remnants of the road were entirely overgrown as if nothing had once existed on their path and the remnants themselves grew progressively fewer and far between.

Unsurprisingly, given her conversation with Galadriel, over the next few days Penny slowly began to rally a little. Her routine remained unchanged for the most part with friends keeping her constant company and her nightly walks with Halladan (as much for his benefit as hers) so she was never alone or bored. Of course it made a difference that they were no longer setting out at the crack of dawn and setting camp after nightfall so she was marginally less tired, which helped, and the first night after meeting Saruman on the road there was communal washing in the last vestiges of the sunlight, which helped even more. That night when Erestor came to sit near them, Penny was persuaded to tell one of her tales, this time what she could remember of Beowulf, and afterwards Erestor questioned her closely about it, a conversation that soon became more English than Sindarin. At first Penny had not realised it had happened, but then when she became aware after quite some time, she stopped abruptly in mid-sentence and paused long enough that Halladan, sitting next to her, a small pile of wood chips forming in front of him as he whittled away at his carving, looked up at her questioningly.

“It is most pleasant to hear you converse in your own tongue, Pen-ii,” Erestor said gently. “You have a freedom of expression that you have yet to properly achieve in Sindarin.” He smiled. “We should do this more often. I find it a most fascinating language.”

And so they did, most evenings from then on. Indeed, once or twice if Halladan were otherwise occupied, perhaps bathing, on watch or helping with chores round the camp, Erestor would walk with her a little instead and she would then talk in more personal terms about her family and her life back home. It was so very strange to talk about them all in English; so very strange, surprisingly distressing, and yet also incredibly cathartic. It helped enormously to have spoken to Halladan about it all as well (and Penny continued to do so), but to then say it all once more in her own language made even more of an impact on her psychologically.

“I just... wish I could tell them. Tell them that I’m okay, that I’m not dead, that nothing horrendous has happened to me. Well… relatively speaking.” She sighed heavily. “I feel so guilty, Erestor. I worry so much about Mum.”

Erestor was not getting every word, but what he could not catch exactly he could guess at easily enough.

“Do whatever you need to, Pen-ii,” he replied in Sindarin. “If there is any ritual or cultural habit… anything that might help you, then do it. If you need any help, or want any of us to be involved… you only have to ask.”

“But such as what, Erestor?”

Erestor shrugged. “Something will present itself to you at the right moment, perhaps. When you are ready, then you will know.”

For the first time since the company had swung north, only a normal level of guard was required and there was still a good hour or two of daylight after setting camp. In such circumstances, therefore, many of the Dunedain could be seen at one remove from the tents sparring or training. It was all rather light-hearted, perhaps, but it was fairly obvious it was also to get themselves back into a particular frame of mind, to blow off any cobwebs that might have formed during their long sojourn in the south since, it seemed clear, Aragorn had insisted they be prepared for anything once they reached home. It was also a stark reminder that ‘home’ was only a matter of weeks away.

Often it seemed to involve finding a large piece of deadwood and hanging it from a tree, then riding past it and either thwapping the living daylights out of it either with a sword or else aiming arrows at it (but only after someone had set the thing swinging wildly). It was quite something to see them riding at full gallop, no hands on the reins, bow and arrow in hand, concentrating on a target that, given how close they rode to it, came very close to hitting them in the head on occasion or at the very least unhorsing them. Even some of the elves joined in, just for the sheer sport of it. They favoured only aiming at the target with their bows, of course, and insisted on smaller and smaller targets swinging more and more wildly. Less frequently there was wrestling or hand-to-hand combat, or else a bit of archery practice out of the saddle, but nothing that involved a sword. Needless to say Halladan, eager to speed his recovery now his leg was much improved, felt it prudent he join in, though never for much more than a half hour or so, and not even that for the riding (since there was only so much time in the saddle that really his leg could cope with).

It took him a few days to do so, though. At first he merely watched, nodding in approval or occasionally shouting out some advice to Tadion or Arvain. That he was removed from direct involvement was something that Penny could not help but notice. When she asked him about it his response was suitably vague and he immediately changed the subject. Only on the third night after they had met Saruman, when Arvain was heading off to fetch his horse for some practice and Penny asked if Halladan was going to join him, did Penny at last get some insight into what was going on. Halladan hurriedly said something about his leg playing him up a little, and Arvain just as quickly said that he hardly thought Halladan needed any practice, given he was one of the best swords he knew of. Penny thought back to Helm’s Deep and what Arvain had said about Halladan being not at all himself when he had pushed him into sword practice that day, and of course later that same day Halladan had then gone on to have the flashback on top of the Wall. Thus she suspected that he was avoiding the practice out of fear of the same thing happening and Arvain was falling back into his old habit of protecting his brother by acquiescing instinctively to whatever Halladan felt was best.

The following evening, therefore, she insisted, albeit gently, that Halladan join Arvain. Others knew his state, and if it was not the right thing for him to do then they would stop him, of that she was confident, so she felt safe enough to push him into it.

“Penny, truthfully, I am not sure…”

“Arvain keeps telling me you are fantastic with a sword, Halladan, but I only have his word for it. Besides, you are his big brother so it is to be expected that he would say that about you.”

Halladan raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is this your way of trying to goad me into doing this?”

“Is it not working?”

“No.”

“Ah. Well, I still think you should do it.”

“Why?”

Penny fidgeted. “No reason, just…” She shrugged.

“What has Arvain said to you?”

“Arvain? Nothing. Why?”

“No reason.”

Now it was her turn to look at him askance. He glanced at her sideways. There was a pause.

“Yes, yes, very well,” he said at last, exasperated.

Penny grinned.

As it turned out, Halladan’s few days of reticence were entirely unfounded and he coped marvellously. He still felt the need to sit in silence with Penny for a while afterwards, as if to still his thoughts, which was fine by her. Whatever it took, frankly.

That she could bring herself out of her own melancholy to bully him at all, indeed come and watch them and not let her imagination run gloomy riot with thoughts of them as warriors in battle and the sights and horrors they had seen, said much. There was still that dull ache of homesickness within her and she still carried the same quiet, heavy sadness of grief, but in the days immediately after speaking to Galadriel both became dulled compared to how they had been and the sense of them not nearly so sharp now a lot of everything else that had been bothering her had been lifted thanks to Galadriel’s words. The support and distractions of others had helped strengthen their effect, helped to bide the time as she trod water, waiting for the swell of emotions that had engulfed her in the preceding days to subside or at least become more manageable, but there was something more than that as well. There was a lightness of being within her, or the growing sense of something like it: a feeling of acceptance with her lot that she had not felt for a long time. She wondered if that too was down to Galadriel, but she felt too shy to mention it or ask at first. It was only some days afterwards, when Halladan commented on how much more ‘herself’ she seemed, less restless, less resentful, that Penny said as much. Halladan, pressing her a little, listened as she described the final moments before she had parted company that night with Galadriel, a knowing smile on his face, his gaze down at his feet. At the end he nodded to himself then glanced at her, tilted his head momentarily and shrugged.

“Who can say, Pen-ii? Likely as not. The ways of elves are deep indeed, even to us the Dunedain who have long known them and consider them distant kin in some respects even still. It would not surprise me; indeed I would be more surprised if she had not used some of her power to lighten your heart a little. It is their way. Even if they do not intend it, just by being in their presence it… moves you a little. You do not find this?”

She had been so overwhelmed by her own worries of late she had found little time to dwell on it, but she had to agree.

On the fourth day after meeting Saruman on the road, it dawned on Penny that they were actually travelling on uplands, a sort of raised plateau of low hills that slowly fed into the mountains’ foothills, and below which, to the west, were the flood plains of the Greyflood or Gwathló river. Every time they reached the crest of a hill, or travelled for a while on higher ground, horizon of reed marshes could be seen just north-west of them – the Nîn-i-Eilph - and beyond it those with keener eyes than Penny could just make out the silvery ribbon of the Gwathló.

The summer was drawing to its close. The nights were falling a little earlier now, and dusk became a fantastic time of mist rolling down the foothills to meet them. On occasion it would even stay with them for the night, billowing eerily through the camp and even the elves wrapped in cloaks (if only to keep out the damp since they did not feel the chill as the Dunedain and Penny might). For the most part, though, even on evenings such as that it was pleasant enough. The days were golden with a sun that hinted at autumn’s onset, and with every passing day, Penny felt herself returning to a more even keel, still upset but more ‘balanced’ and better able to focus her attention on Halladan and whatever distraction he might need as much as he had been doing the same for her the past week or more.

Halladan was by now her ever-watchful constant. Every day he rode by her side, quick to offer her his hand and haul her into his saddle if she seemed weary or overly distracted and unable to bear conversation. Every evening after they had set camp a routine had established itself whereby he would seek out her tent to accompany her to wherever she might be headed – usually to help Naurdir or accompany Mireth to fill watersacs. Their nightly walks, first undertaken so they might escape the company and be alone with their own raw emotions for a while, were now a pleasure she looked forward to, happy to walk a second time even if she had already done the rounds of the camp once with Erestor that evening, if only for his company and it seemed he felt the same way.

This evening routine was only disrupted slightly by her period arriving. She was back to washing cloths and leaving them to dry. Mireth assured her that there was enough sun of an evening, albeit low in the sky, and the nights mild enough that they would be dry by morning without the need of a fire so long as she wrung them out well enough. Penny was not sure she felt comfortable with her stained cloths on show now the Dunedain were a part of their group. It had been bad enough with elves around, but with humans let alone men part of the picture…

“You forget Faelon has daughters and a wife, Pen-ii,” Mireth said with a smile as they readied themselves the morning it had begun. “He will be well used to such things, as will many others.”

“Halladan and Arvain will not.”

“Perhaps not, but they did spend a lot of their boyhood in the company of Faelon’s family after their mother died, do not forget. After all, Morfinniel was a cousin of hers, so the families would have been close even without the bond Faelon and Halbarad had always had since childhood.”

As it happened, Halladan, coming to collect her from her tent that evening as was now his wont, found her kneeling over a bucket, hand washing that day’s cloth. It took him a moment to realise what she was doing as she started slightly and then looked at him questioningly and perhaps a little defiantly as if daring him to be embarrassed (if only to cover her own embarrassment).

“Ah, I, um…”

“I will be with you presently, Halladan.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

He hurried off only looking faintly pink about the cheeks, which was not bad going considering.

When Penny came to join the Dunedain at the fire a little while later, Mireth and Lindir with her, it seemed Halladan had confided in at least one other of his momentary confusion (and possible embarrassment of Penny) since Faelon made a point of pulling Penny to one side and letting her know that, should she ever have any pain, now that they were in countryside not too dissimilar to that which he was most familiar with, she only had to say the word and he could easily seek out a particular plant that his wife had always recommended to his girls.

“We have a permanent stock in the house,” he added.

Penny assured him Mireth had given her some herbs before they left Rivendell and she still had some left. Nevertheless he found some for her anyway, coming to her tent the following morning with a handful of leaves which he had picked at first light. They were still wet with dew.

The one thing that was little discussed between Mireth and Penny was the fact that this was her first period since Gondor. She had basically skipped a cycle entirely, and Penny put it down to stress and distress. So did Mireth though she did not say that directly, merely telling Penny she was ‘glad things were improving for her’ and giving her hand a squeeze. Penny nodded, smiled and said she was glad too, but they both knew what they were talking about without having to go into detail.

Six days after meeting Saruman the first group of Dunedain left the travelling party. They were intending to follow the Greenway as it bent away a little to the north-west and so cross the Greyflood at Tharbad and then straight up into their homeland. Unlike Boromir, they would not be attempting to cross the Greyflood after autumn rains, and while still a potentially dangerous crossing, it was not a road wholly unknown to them, though at the southernmost limit of their territory. Besides which they were Rangers, well suited to crossing country where no others dared walk or ride.

Bregion was amongst those riding out, three others with him. From now on the Dunedain would peel off in groups, heading north by routes they could easily fathom in the wilds, and so on and up straight into Eriador rather than follow the line of the mountains all the way north to Imladris and then west; thus they would be home all the sooner as well as also arrive in different parts of the region so as to be able to better cover a wider area and assess where help might be needed, if at all. Then once they reached their old stomping grounds, the small groups would sub-divide yet again, and each Dunadan would then travel alone or in twos at most as was their usual way of things.

The breakfast before they left was a quiet affair. They had risen early, and Penny had made a point of asking Mireth to make sure she was awake in time to say her farewells and, when they came, they were just as quiet and perfunctory as the meal had been. It was an act that the Dunedain were clearly all used to given the lives they led. This was the norm for them – to often be on the move, greeting and leaving as they went about their duty. It was back into the old routine in some respects. The longest part of it was the goodbyes to the elves, especially those from the Galadhrim they had befriended, since they would be unlikely to see many of them again unless, perhaps, they happened to meet them on their final journey west to the Grey Havens in the following year or two.

The goodbyes done, they were in the saddles and riding off even as the rest of the camp was still being dismantled. As Penny watched them go, raising her hand in farewell along with Halladan, Arvain, Tadion and Faelon as Bregion turned his head one last time to look back, she suddenly acutely aware that it would be the turn of the four men standing next to her soon enough. She had long known that would be the case, of course. She could not have sat at the fires with these men as often as she had without overhearing them discuss their plans, but only now did it really hit home. Only now could she properly contemplate what that would be like: to be without human companionship once again, to be without these men who had become friends, even a little akin to family. Most importantly, while there had been talk of Halladan or Arvain, or both, accompanying her as far as Rivendell, if only out of courtesy’s sake as her guardians, she was suddenly more aware than ever before that she would be without their company soon enough, perhaps at most within a couple of weeks.

Thus it was with a heavy heart that only a short while later she saddled up her mare and set off at Halladan’s side once more; a heavy heart and plenty of time ahead of her that day to do little else except examine precisely why she should feel the impending separation quite so keenly.

Author’s Notes:

For those unfamiliar with the books and just as a reminder (though I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before), Galadriel’s gift to Samwise was a box with the nut of a mallorn tree inside (which was planted by Sam to replace the Party Tree) as well as some dust which, when he sprinkled it here and there in the Shire, made the ground bloom as it had never had before – thus restoring the Shire not simply to its former glory, but in places something better.

It was at Tharbad that Boromir lost his horse on his journey north to Rivendell. It had once been a great town with a bridge, but was now in ruins, with the bridge forming a treacherous ford. Had he known the way, Boromir would have done what the House of Elrond did on this return journey from Gondor – turned away from the Greenway to head north, crossing the Swanfleet and following the line of the mountains all the way to the vale of Rivendell.

Just FYI, due to a few requests and then polling quite a number of readers via my LJ, it seems that many people felt a table of characters for these two stories would be useful, if only to keep track of minor characters (especially with the long gaps between posting chapters of late). This can be found here: http://boz4pm.livejournal.com/268905.html It includes all the OFCs and OMCs as well as minor canon characters (in Tolkien’s terms). Any major canon characters, especially if they appeared in the films, really should not need to be in such a table, lol!

As ever, my sincere thanks to everyone who is still reading this, to all new readers, to those who rec the fics, to those who review, comment and get in touch – it is all and always much appreciated. -hugs you all-