Chapter 53 – “Hook, Line and Sinker”

Looking back, Penny would mark the time that the first Dunedain left the company as being the point when everything changed; or rather, to be more exact, the moment when she became properly aware just how much things had changed. It had, of course, been staring her in the face for quite some time though she had little realised it; but then to be fair she had had so much else to deal with, so much emotion, pressure and stress that it was hardly surprising this perhaps less pressing realisation had entirely escaped her notice till now. And even now, even with so much of her stress and distress lifted from her and her heart lighter than it had been since she could barely remember when, she could scarcely take it in at first. In fact, she point blank refused to for a day or two.

All that day after Bregion’s party had left, she mulled over why she felt so down about the impending loss of the company of the Dunedain. Yes, she would miss them but for God’s sake, woman, was it really such a big deal? It was only when, after some hours of trying to ignore the blindingly obvious, she finally had to admit to herself that it was Halladan in particular that she would miss the most and whose departure she was least looking forward to, that a growing suspicion began to start niggling away at her. Try as she might, she could not shake off the quiet sadness she felt at the thought of when she would finally be left alone amongst the elves once more.

That yet another small group peeled off from the company two days later did nothing to alleviate it either. Even Halladan commented on it later that night as they sat together by the fire, conversation and song going on around them.

“You seem quiet tonight, Pen-ii.”

“Yes, I know. I apologise. It is just that…” She paused. “Oh, it is nothing. I am being silly.”

Halladan stopped working the tip of his blade into the shaped piece of wood in his hand and looked at her.

“Tell me.”

She shrugged. “Since Bregion and the others left and then more of you this morning… It made me aware that I will have to say farewell to all of you soon enough, that is all.” She shot him a brief smile, as if trying to intimate that she was laughing at her own foolishness.

“Why, will you miss us?” Arvain had overheard and now interrupted, grinning.

“Of course she will, Arvain!” Faelon responded cheerily. “She would be a fool not to!”

“Yes, I will miss you,” Penny said with a quiet seriousness to no one in particular. “How could I not?”

She studiously avoided looking at Halladan and instead inspected the grass beside her as if fascinated by the glow the fire threw onto each leaf. Thus she missed the look shared by Faelon and Arvain as each had caught her tone and the faintly amused air both of them wore. Halladan caught it, though, and did not seem to find it quite so amusing.

“We do not have to say our farewells for some time yet, Pen-ii” he said. “And besides which, I will travel with you as far as Imladris.”

“Oh.”

If Penny sounded a little surprised it was because the last time this had been discussed, Arvain was to have accompanied her as well.

“We can spare one, but not both,” Faelon said with a wink as she looked up. “Who knows what may or may not have travelled north up the Greenway ahead of us, or slunk west across the mountains.”

“I did wonder about that,” Penny murmured quietly. “I did not want to keep the two of you from more important duties.” Her glance flicked between the pair of them. “I mean, if you feel you might be needed elsewhere…”

Arvain opened his mouth to say something, but Halladan cut across him.

“It is our duty for at least one of us to see you safely to Imladris.”

“I know, but—”

“Why, do you think she would not be kept safe in our company?” Lindir came to sit next to Pen-ii. He was barely suppressing a grin.

“You know that is not the issue, Lindir.”

Faelon and Arvain suddenly seemed very amused once more.

“It is a fair question, Halladan,” Celebdor now chimed in on the other side of him.

“After all, we managed to keep her safe and whole on the journey south, did we not?” Lindir continued.

“As her guardians—,” Halladan began.

“As her guardians, your duty is to see her safe, and she will be safe enough with us, Halladan.”

Penny missed the hint of a wink and the grin on Lindir’s face as he glanced at Arvain but Halladan’s eyes narrowed. He sighed heavily and could barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“That said: would your father have ridden with her to our door? Very possibly, yes,” Celebdor conceded.

“Oh, I am not so sure,” Lindir countered. “What do you think, Faelon?”

But Faelon had no time to reply and was too busy trying not to smirk into his beer to have been able to respond had he wanted to. At last Arvain felt he should step in and defend his brother.

“We are fulfilling Father’s duty by Pen-ii…,” he began.

“Oh, indeed,” Celebdor conceded, “I can understand why Halladan feels that—”

Penny was looking at Halladan, taking in his resigned yet irritated demeanour. She was a little confused, but also wondering if she was interpreting this all correctly. If it were anyone else she might think it was gentle ribbing of ‘possible alternate motivations on their part’ but that was patently ridiculous. Far more likely that they were laughing at Halladan’s being a stickler for convention, the ‘sensible and perhaps overly serious elder brother’ aspect of his personality; it was a joke at Halladan’s expense and nothing more. … Right?

“Yes, yes, of course, of course,” Lindir replied in a somewhat over-conciliatory manner. “Do not rile yourself, my boy,” he added, turning to Halladan in a mock placatory attitude (though Halladan was far from riled). Then, perhaps aware he had pushed things a little too far in Penny’s presence, Lindir turned to her now. “Do not mind us, Pen-ii. Halladan is a man of principle, that is all. He believes in tradition and follows social propriety to the letter.” He grinned in Halladan’s direction. “Is that not so, Halladan?”

As Arvain suddenly choked on his ale and had to have his back patted by Faelon, Penny noticed the skin round Halladan’s eyes tighten ever so slightly and the muscles in his jaw flex just once, but then he cleared his throat and looked about him in a deliberate attempt to show he was not going to rise to the ribbing he was getting and instead asked Lindir for a song. For a moment Lindir hesitated, as if tempted to tell Halladan not to change the subject, but a look from Faelon told him that he had probably pushed things to their limit as it was. So with a gracious and cheerful ‘of course’, he jumped to his feet and regaled them with a long ballad that Penny had heard before but was happy to hear again if only because Lindir was such a beautiful singer.

Earlier that day they had forded the Swanfleet and were now technically in Eregion proper. They had camped on a promontory above an escarpment, the land below falling away to the fens where the Swanfleet meandered its way to join the Greyflood. None of that could be seen too well in the dark, of course, but when Penny and Halladan went for their nightly walk later that evening they found some large rocks near the edge of the steep cliff and clambered on top of them, Halladan leaving his stick at the bottom and then, when he had reached the top, turning and kneeling on the flat top of the rock to hold out his hand to Penny as she followed him up. They sat side by side, Halladan leaning back on his hands, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, and Penny sitting with her arms wrapped round her knees. The whole sky stretched out ahead of them. There was still just the barest hint of a very pale glow where it kissed the land - the last vestiges of the sunset - but above was a great dark expanse filled with stars. Being a London girl used to the light pollution of modern times, Penny still found it a stunning sight to be able to see so many all at once.

It was not that things had been awkward between them as they had walked, but both had seemed more preoccupied with their own thoughts than they had been in each other’s company for quite some days and even now they still sat in, albeit comfortable, silence. Whatever Halladan might have been musing upon Penny had no idea, but on her part the earlier banter round the fire had only served to highlight her own growing awareness of her situation since she felt that she had been close to misinterpreting their reasoning behind ripping the piss out of Halladan until Lindir had given his explanation. That fact alone had set her thinking.

Ever since Bregion and the others had first left, ever since Galadriel had removed much of her burden and emotional distress from her shoulders, she had been unable to ignore the effect Halladan had on her: how aware she was of him as a physical presence, the way she could not help but break into a smile whenever she caught his eye, how she felt instantly calmed and pleased by his presence, how she looked out for him in the camp or the general company if they were not together. He was a handsome man. She had noticed that the first time she had met him. Hell, they all were, some more than others admittedly, but even in the most rugged and burly of the Dunedain you could clearly see their elven heritage in their features: a certain nobility and innate beauty that set them apart from your average mortal. But with Halladan it was more than that, more than mere ‘awareness that he was easy on the eye and then some.’

As they sat together, saying nothing but all too aware of each other’s presence, of the faint hint of warmth of each other’s bodies even though they were not touching, and as they stared out at the stars with that sense of two people lost within an infinity of creation, Penny finally admitted to herself what she had been striving to avoid even considering for the last few days.

She had fallen in love with him.

It was as simple as that; as simple and as complicated and as unutterably stupid as that. It was entirely the wrong thing to have done, of course, but at the same time it was not like she had chosen to do so or even if she could have stopped herself had she realised it was happening.

Sitting there like that with him she was truly aware for the first time just how much she would miss doing this sort of thing once he was gone. Yes, she could do the same with anyone else, but it was not the fact of what she was doing so much as who she was doing it with. It was him: his company, his friendship, just… him that she would miss, and miss terribly. It was not even that she simply fancied him or ‘had the hots’ for him either. That would have been easier to cope with in a way. No, it was far, far deeper than that - one of those things that are hard to describe to anyone else and yet deep within yourself you just know ‘this is it.’ Your soul mate, the one you can sit in silence with for hours and they can still guess your thoughts, the one you want to be with for the rest of your life, with whom you feel complete and without whom you know life would never quite feel the same, as if something was missing, as if everything was a little bit colder than it had been.

Now that she had finally admitted that much to herself, she also now knew she would be horribly worried about him when he was eventually off doing whatever it was Rangers did in the wilds, especially with his dodgy leg and potential for flashbacks when reminded of previous battles. Perhaps this was what it was like for the women of the Dunedain that waited home for long periods all the time, not knowing where their menfolk were or what they might be facing. Hell, wasn’t that exactly the case for Tadion’s father? Rode off to do his tour of duty and was bludgeoned to death by a troll’s club three weeks later.

She felt cold inside all of a sudden, and not a little unwell.

Yeah, she would worry herself stupid about him when he left, that was for damn certain. She would worry about Arvain and Faelon and Tadion as well, about all of them that she had got to know over the last few months, but it was the very fact that she felt so differently about Halladan that told her the truth of it.

Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Damn and blast it! What the hell was she thinking?! He was her guardian for a start, and she was not entirely sure how social mores worked in that regard, but she was fairly certain that marrying your ward would not be the norm…

Oh, shit, that was a point: marriage. Halladan himself had said in Minas Tirith that to stay unmarried, unattached without males around you to protect you was impossible in their society or at least unheard of. She did not want to marry a man who did not know her situation, and yet how could they reasonably go around and explain her situation to people? It could not be any ordinary northerner, if only because her Sindarin was far stronger than her Westron ever would be, let alone her natural sympathies to a more elvish way of life, but surely a Dunadan was out of the question. They were of noble blood, often married their own (though not always – Bregion’s wife and Tadion’s mother were both non-Dunedain), and she felt sure someone as really quite bizarre as her would not be looked on as a favourable match, for all she had the patronage of the elves of Imladris and the family of Halbarad, hell, even the King himself. Marriage against your will was, of course, a no-no, but these things were still done by a process of careful selection and veto. She did not want to marry someone she did not love, and how could she love another if…?

But she was getting WAY ahead of herself here. That she would even ever meet a man who might meet all the criteria necessary, let alone fall in love with him, was so unlikely as to be ridiculous. She had already realised that some time ago. She would live the life of a spinster: the lame duck watching as Arvain, Halladan, Tadion and whoever else settled down and started families of their own.

That hurt, now that she really allowed herself to look at it, really bloody hurt and not out of any sense of self-pity but simply at the thought of having to watch Halladan pass her by, as assuredly he would. After all, he was the son of an important man. The eldest son of an important man, in fact, and a Dunadan to boot, and while he had no betrothed waiting for him and, from what she could tell, no sweetheart either, someone of his stature, good looks and general character, would have the women falling at his feet.

He was hopelessly and utterly out of her league.

The harsh realisation of the truth of her situation almost brought her to tears, which was so ridiculously stupid that she felt a wave of hot rage at herself rush through her and she clenched her arms a bit tighter around her knees and clamped her jaw so tight it almost hurt.

Idiot!

Idiot, idiot, stupid, bloody, ridiculous, pathetic, fat-headed IDIOT!

She would just have to grin and bear it. Above all she would have to do her level best not to change how she behaved with him, however much it might hurt her. If she could at least maintain their friendship that would be something since she valued it highly, but more importantly she knew well enough he valued it in return. It was not his fault she had fallen for him, and if, as seemed clear, he found her company and her quiet, non-judgemental support some help and benefit still, well then so be it. She would just have to hope her feelings faded or at least became easier to ignore with time. That said, perhaps it was for the best that he would be leaving in a few weeks. Then she would have time enough to try and work on accepting that her life would never include him as anything more than a friend and that that was an end to it.

It still hurt like hell to realise all this, though.

That depressing conclusion was hardly conducive to scintillating conversation, and she was quiet all the way back to her tent. When Halladan stayed her gently with his hand on her arm as she bade him goodnight and asked her, concern on his face, if anything was amiss, she did the best she could to give him a reassuring smile, to look straight into his deep grey eyes that caught the starlight so beautifully and insist that she was fine. He held her gaze for a moment, as if perhaps assessing the truth of her words, then nodded once and smiled by way of goodnight.

And she could not help but respond to his smile and tried to ignore the quiet flip in her stomach as she did so.

Gah! IDIOT!

Of course it was the smile and the grey eyes that won out over her internal monologue of calling herself every name under the sun. She had very pleasant dreams that night and found it a little hard to look Halladan in the face at breakfast.

It was going to be a hard few days, she suspected, until she had worked out how best to cope with this newfound self-revelation.

For all she had promised herself she would not change in her attitude towards him, she went out of her way that day to seek out Mireth’s company and encourage plenty of chatter around her when Halladan was with her. She sat for a while with Erestor at the elvish fire in the evening, struggling to use some of her Westron until he laughingly told her that it was really no use and she might as well give herself a break. Halladan seemed pleased by all this, taking it as a sign she was slowly becoming more her usual self, but even he could see the times throughout the day when, loud talk all round them, she seemed distracted and lost in her thoughts.

Eventually, late that night at the Dunedain fire, he nudged her and quietly whispered about going for a walk, and for a moment she hesitated. He looked at her, that soft smile on his face that she now acknowledged did strange things to her insides if she concentrated on it for too long, and she knew that, try as she might, she would grab any opportunity for those shared private moments in his company. All too soon it would come to an end. All too soon they would be back in Imladris and he would be off in the wilds, or back with the Dunedain, and then one day he would find his match. No more long walks together, no more private talks or sharing their thoughts and troubles. No more worrying about each other, looking out for each other, or not in the same way, perhaps. He would always be there as a friend, and she for him, but he would have a wife and family to worry about him and care for him properly.

She shook her head a little as if to chase away the thoughts racing through it and said a walk would be most delightful.

The days continued as much they had, and Penny made the best of it that she could. It was all she could do. She focused on the now – on the pleasure of his companionship and on the support and friendship that he showed her - and tried to forget about how it would all change in a couple of weeks. She had him till Imladris, and she held on to that thought intending to cherish every last moment with him that she could. The hardest part was trying not to read anything into the slightest gesture or reaction on his part. When they clambered up rocks, stepped over small streams or over fallen trees and he held her hand in his or partly caught her if she stumbled, she had to concentrate hard on not focusing on the sensation of his skin against hers or his hands round her waist. Now she better understood her discomfort and awkwardness at holding him round the waist when they had ridden together – it had been an unconscious acknowledgement on how intimate a gesture it had seemed given the feelings she already had for him (though she had little realised it at the time). It was all too easy, though, to wonder if he held her eye a little too often, or smiled a little too readily when he caught sight of her. She caught herself doing it time and again and began to get really very annoyed with herself because that way madness lay, and she knew it.

‘Stop tormenting yourself, woman! Just bloody stop it! Forget it! Just don’t even think about it!

Never in a million years! … With bells on! … And then some!’

In the early morning of the fourth day after Bregion left, Penny emerged from her tent, bleary eyed and still a little sleepy, to find the sun was not yet fully risen and that the camp was surrounded by a low mist yet to be burned off by the morning’s warmth. They had camped on a low hill the night before and the mist filled the moorland around them making them feel as if they were on an island. Away to their right loomed the foothills and mountains that had been ever bending westwards, coming to meet them as the company journeyed north. Now, in the morning’s glow, the peaks were catching the sun and shining, in particular the three largest that were near enough due east of the camp: Caradhras, Celebdil and Fanuidhol. They were camped within sight of the way to the pass that Penny had crossed so many months before: Moria was exactly due East of them. It was here, then, that the company would split in two with Galadriel and Celeborn leading the Galadhrim back to Lothlorien across the mountains and Elrond’s household heading on northwards back to Imladris; but they did not want to part company just yet and so they would tarry here a while – for a week at most – and take their farewells of each other at their leisure.

It was no accident that they were in Eregion either – a place that many of the elves of both Imladris and Lothlorien knew well of old since after it had fallen, razed to the ground by Sauron himself, while many had sailed West never to return, those that remained had gone to live either in Imladris or else had joined Galadriel and Celeborn and travelled over the mountains. For the next several days, many were the small sorties into the surrounding landscape by groups of elves, revisiting familiar places, albeit much altered, in a final farewell since many would never set foot here again. As for Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn and Elrond, they spent much of their time together, particularly in the evenings and long into the night, in quiet consultation with each other both about the future but also remembering their long pasts and all that they had seen. This was the last time they would all be together, for even when Galadriel herself would come west across the mountains to set sail at last Celeborn would stay behind in Lothlorien.

It was a strange time, therefore, with an air of both relaxation, since they were no longer travelling for the first time in weeks, but also of gentle sadness, of something coming to an end and that something being more than their mere travelling together. That morning yet more Dunedain left, this time a larger group and leaving in two separate directions – due east and north-east – and more would leave over the following days.

In the meantime the sparring and training picked up apace for the rapidly dwindling number of men that remained, if only because there was more time to do so now there was no setting or striking of the camp to be done every day, let alone hours of travelling in between. There was also time to head off into the countryside for hours at a time and hunt. The first night there Dunedain and elves came back with fish, rabbits and several brace of birds. The next day Halladan, Arvain, Tadion and Faelon all intended to ride out for most of the day along with whomever from the elves wished to join them. They dragged Penny along too and she thoroughly enjoyed herself, Halladan keeping her company as they entered a large wood and the others disappeared in amongst the trees. It was they who spotted the hart and chased it. Penny did try to insist that Halladan join them, worrying that he was spoiling his enjoyment just to keep her company, but he laughed and said he would not leave her to get lost in the trees by herself and nor would he ask her to join him at speed in such an environment either.

“It is enough to have the change of scene, is it not?”

Penny smiled and agreed that was very true. Secretly she was just glad to have him alone for a while, though her secret pleasure was thrown a little when she caught herself trying to convince herself that he could have just as easily joined the hunt or insisted she do so, but had used her lack of skill as a rider as an excuse to be alone with her.

Idiot!

They lunched beside a small stream on the near side of the wood, the hart having been hunted down not too far from the camp in the end – not more than an a half hour’s ride – so it could be taken back and butchered before the innards spoiled the meat. Dealing with it all at the camp was easier than partially dressing it then and there, if only because so much of the animal would be used – right down to the hide, sinews and even the head boiled to make soup. Several were the chuckles at Penny’s expense as she grimaced on having this piece of information explained to her, even as the animal was lifted onto the back of a horse, two Dunedain riding off back to camp with it.

As they ate, Faelon produced a large sac of wine and Tadion two small bowls which were then passed around to be shared as impromptu cups. It was not a situation Penny had encountered before and it did not even occur to her there would be any particular etiquette attached to it. Halladan, taking a good draught of the wine, handed the bowl on to Penny and she thanked him, drank in her turn, and passed it on to Celebdor sitting next to her only to realise that Arvain was grinning, Tadion smirking and Faelon and the few elves with them seemed a little surprised..

“What—?”

“It is nothing, Pen-ii,” Halladan muttered quietly. She looked at him and caught his eye. “Truly. Do not concern yourself.” He was giving her a reassuring smile but even she could see that he seemed a little uncomfortable.

Only when everyone’s attention had moved on did Celebdor lean towards her and whisper quietly in her ear.

“You should have turned the bowl, Pen-ii.”

Now that she looked she could see that everyone who received a bowl carefully turned it a little so as not to drink in the same spot as the one who had just drunk from it.

“Oh.”

There would be bathing for the ellith that evening and already when they got back to the camp some hours later several could be seen making their way towards the edge of the hill where a spring began only a few yards from the top, the water coursing down over rocky streams and small waterfalls to a small pool at the base of the hill in amongst some trees. Penny quickly excused herself, found Mireth in their tent and joined her in gathering up their things for washing; as she did so she idly dropped the matter of sharing bowls of drink into the conversation, wondering why one should turn the bowl before taking your turn to drink. Mireth seemed both surprised and amused that Penny should not know the convention.

“It is a very intimate act to share the same place on a bowl or cup that someone else has drunk from, Pen-ii, no? It is the sort of thing that lovers might do or, no, since it is so very much a deliberately intimate thing, more something a husband might do with his wife on their wedding day once they are alone together.”

Penny could not stop the rush of blood to her cheeks. Mireth’s smile broadened, intrigued now, and her eyes twinkled with something close to mischief.

“Why? What happened on the hunt today?”

“Nothing.”

Penny had replied a little too quickly and Mireth laughed out loud.

“Oh, indeed? I feel sure Celebdor will tell me if you will not.”

Penny sighed, exasperated and embarrassed now she fully understood the import of her action, especially since she did not doubt that it would be all over the camp by sundown, yet another gossipy little tale of the ignorant mortal bumpkin making an arse of herself that the elves who knew her would delight in. Dammit, she had really not missed situations like this and had thought them long behind her! Apparently not.

She explained what had occurred, realising she had little choice but to do so. Mireth seemed highly amused by something even if she also quickly reassured Penny that no harm had been done, that it was an honest mistake and everyone would have understood it as such.

“Even so…,” she murmured and trailed off, bending down to pick up her toiletries and drying cloths.

“Even so what?”

“Oh, nothing. Only that sometimes moments surprise even those least expecting them.”

Penny furrowed her brows at her. What the hell was that meant to mean?

But she had no time to find out because Mireth was already hurrying out of the tent, cloths and soaps in hand, calling Penny to follow her if she wanted a bathe before supper, and by the time Penny had grabbed her things and made it outside, they had already been joined by several other ellith also on their way to bathe and Mireth was deep in conversation with one of the female Galadhrim.

The hart had been spit-roasted over the large elvish fire, Naurdir slicing chunks off for anyone who wanted it. Penny was pleased that she had missed the ‘treat’ of the hart being hung from a tree, skinned and gutted. Butchery in the raw was something she had still not quite got used to and there was a healthy dose of snickering in her direction when she said as much at supper. Still, roast venison made a very pleasant change from vegetable stew, cured meat and fruit, and Penny was not the only one to say so. The hobbits were particularly vocal on that point, and were determined to go rabbiting the following day.

Lindir did at one point offer Penny a drink from his cup, then theatrically slapped his hand to his forehead, asking himself loudly what he was thinking and exaggeratedly turned it round before offering it to her once more. Mireth said his name scoldingly, but there was loud snickering from Tadion and even Arvain bit back a grin. Halladan, though, seemed to be hesitating from giving a reaction just yet, watching Penny instead, perhaps worried how she might react to such teasing. Penny merely raised an eyebrow.

“Any more of that, Lindir, and I will tip it over your head. I am not sure what ale would do for elven hair, but I cannot imagine you would appreciate it.” Lindir was laughing already. “It was an honest mistake. How was I to know people were so sensitive about such things? Ridiculous! A cup is a cup is a cup. Still, at least I know now. It might have been polite for someone to explain the finer subtleties of cup-sharing etiquette to me beforehand instead of letting me make a complete fool of myself.”

There were conciliatory murmurings at that, with Celebdor, Arvain and Faelon all amongst those nodding and holding their hands up, looking suitably apologetic. Halladan, however, was grinning a ‘that’s my girl - take no prisoners’ sort of grin. She caught his eye and shrugged and grinned as if to say ‘well, that’s right, isn’t it?’ and he just threw his head back and laughed.

“Ah, it is good to see the old Pen-ii back once more.”

“That it is, Halladan,” Lindir replied, still chuckling. “That it is indeed.”

Penny had worried about walking alone with Halladan that evening after the incident with the cup, but instead Lindir pulling her leg about it (and her response) meant any residual awkwardness had been dissipated. Instead they talked for quite some time, Penny reminiscing about her family for a while but then Halladan surprising her by reciprocating for once and letting slip something of what he had had to put up with from his brothers when they were boys.

“As the eldest, especially after Mother… well, I had to help Father bring them up. Here, take my hand a moment - the moss on that fallen trunk could… There we are. The two of them were constantly fighting, and when they were not fighting they were always up to something. Hirvell had a temper on him, would fly off the handle at the slightest thing, always doing something in the heat of the moment and then regretting it at his leisure afterwards - and Arvain…!” He laughed. “Ai, Arvain would constantly drive him to distraction. He knew exactly how to get him from calm to infuriated within mere moments!” He laughed some more, then slowly fell quiet for some minutes. “I miss him,” he said simply.

“Of course you do,” Penny replied quietly. There was a pause. “Tell me about Arvain’s misspent youth.”

He gave a half-chuckle. “Where shall I start?”

He then regaled her with a tale that, as he put it, summed up Arvain and Hirvell’s relationship as young brothers in a nutshell. He also made it clear it was the sort of thing that happened all the time and, as he spoke, it quickly became clear to Penny that if that was indeed the case, their childhood had been nothing if not eventful.

Hirvell had been around fourteen and Arvain around eleven or so. The pair had gone swimming and Arvain, ever the joker and one to seize any opportunity that presented itself, had leapt from the water, grabbing his brother's clothes as well as his own before running as fast as he could and then hiding in a tree so his brother could not find him no matter how hard he searched or how loud he yelled, cursed or swore terrible retribution. Eventually, with the sun getting low in the sky and in imminent danger of getting into trouble with both their Father and Halladan for getting back late, Hirvell was forced to walk home with little more than a couple of large leaves to cover his dignity. This would have been bad enough except that on his way back he ran into two of his second cousins, one of whom he had had a bit of thing about at the time. It was the sort of thing that could scar any boy on the edge of manhood for life, of course, and needless to say Arvain got the pummelling of his life when he finally got up the courage to come home (or rather when Halladan had gone out looking for him and had had to drag him home).

Penny was in hysterics by the time Halladan had finished.

“Oh, that is nothing,” he assured her.

“And they were like this all the time?!”

“All the time, I swear it! Is it any wonder I grew up so fast? Had I not and there been three of us behaving like this, I think it would have driven Father mad!”

Revenge is a dish best served cold, or at least that seemed to be a motto that Hirvell lived by. He had never forgotten the humiliation of coming face to face with the girl he had been sweet on whilst wearing nothing but two dock leaves. Thus when a few years later he found out Arvain had his first teen crush on a local girl he persuaded Arvain, while in the guise of ‘older brother who is now a young man and thus mature and above suspicion’, that she was waiting in a certain barn to exchange love tokens and possibly grant Arvain his first kiss. Arvain, eager and foolish as young love will be, ran hot-foot to the barn armed with a clean face and a bunch of wild flowers - only to be confronted by Faelon's prize bull when he got there. Needless to say, one bull-skewered barn and an ‘excuse me while I run home screaming’ Arvain later, Hirvell was hauled over the coals by his father and made to mend the holes in the walls of the barn.

They were walking back to the camp by this point, and Penny had to stop for a moment to catch her breath and wipe her eyes, she was laughing so hard. Halladan was grinning, clearly enjoying reliving the memories (freely admitting they were funny now in hindsight but unbelievably cataclysmic at the time) but also to see Penny in stitches.

When they said goodnight to each other at her tent, as was their wont, Penny tried not to notice that he seemed to hold her hand for a moment longer than seemed necessary. She had to stop picking up things that were not there, stop reading into things that held no significance. She tried not to let her annoyance at herself ruin her good mood, because it had actually been a lovely day, and Halladan’s stories had been hysterical.

The next day, first thing after breakfast, Penny sought out Erestor to ask if he had any spare parchment and a quill.

“Of course. You wish to do some written lessons?”

“No, I… I want to write a letter.”

Erestor looked up at her questioningly, a smile on his face, as he bent to rummage through a trunk in his tent. Elladan was lying on a bedroll nearby pretending not to listen as he thumbed through a book of poetry.

“To Meresel? Would it not be better to wait till you reach Imladris? It would have to wait till then for it to be sent with a messenger, unless you were to give it to one of the Galadhrim, of course, since they might—”

“In truth I… was thinking of writing a letter to my mother.”

Erestor stared at her and even Elladan looked up from his book in some surprise. There was a moment of silence.

“It is a stupid idea, isn’t it? I just… well, you did say if anything occurred to me, and I think it might help. It might sound ridiculous but…”

Erestor was smiling softly. “It is not foolish at all, Pen-ii. I think it is a very good idea indeed. You may have all the parchment you need.”

So Penny, armed with a roll of parchment, a stoppered crystal phial of ink and Erestor’s spare quill, disappeared off to the far end of the camp where the horses were stationed and there, near the edge of the hill, was a small outcrop of flat rocks beside the trees above the spring. She stayed there all morning, sitting cross-legged on one of the rocks and spent most of the time staring out at the countryside trying to marshal her thoughts, occasionally brushing away tears, but rarely writing anything down.

After two hours or more she heard her name being called and looked round to see Halladan coming towards her.

“Here you are. I have been looking all over the camp for you. At last I met Lord Elrond, and Elladan had told him what you were up to. It took some asking around to find where you had hidden yourself.” He paused. “I do not wish to intrude. If you wish to be alone…?”

“No, no, you are most welcome.” She sighed. “It is not as if I have written much anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I have got as far as ‘Dear Mother’ and that is about it.”

Halladan chuckled then caught her sad and serious expression. “My apologies.”

“Do not apologise. It is funny in a way. I just do not know how to put it into words. It is so… ridiculous. All of it. So ridiculous and huge and…”

“Just tell her what you want her to know, the things that, if she were truly to read it, would be the most important for you to say to her.”

She nodded. “Yes. I keep becoming lost in the magnitude of it all.” She realised he was smiling. “What?”

“Nothing. It is just that…”

“What?”

“When I hear you use words like ‘magnitude’ it makes me realise how far your Sindarin has advanced even since we first met.”

“Oh shut up.”

“I mean it!” He laughed.

“I know you do.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He smiled back. “I will not disturb you any longer. But be aware it will be the midday meal soon enough.” He glanced up to check the position of the sun. “And it might be as well to spend some time with the Dunedain today, if only because Tadion leaves on the morrow.”

“Oh, I had forgotten that.”

“I thought perhaps you might have done. Anyway, if you have not come to eat in, say, an hour I shall bring some food for you.” He turned to leave.

“No… Halladan?”

He stopped and looked back.

“Stay. Please?”

He smiled. “But of course.”

He did not join her on the rock, but instead sat on the grass at the base of it, leaning up against it. He reached into a pouch that hung from his belt and pulled out the carving he was working on, now small enough to be held in the hand and taking a definite shape. He took out a small knife and continued to work at it in silence. Above him Penny was finally scratching out her message, in English: her last goodbye and if not a full explanation then at least some sort of reassurance to her mother that she was safe and well. Occasionally Halladan would glance up at the sun, checking the time and then perhaps up to her, taking in the quiet intensity as she wrote; then he would go back to his carving. After a little over an hour he stirred at last, slipping the piece of wood back into the pouch and belting his knife.

“Time to eat, Pen-ii. Do you want to stay here and have me bring you something or—?”

He stopped short as he finally stood up straight and caught sight of her properly at last, reading back what she had written so far and tears forming drips off the end of her nose.

“Ai, Pen-ii,” he said softly, stepping towards her, looking as if, were it not for the fact that she was planted on a rock he would have taken her into his arms and held her close. She glanced up and smiled in spite of her distress, bringing a hand up to wipe at her face.

“Forgive me. You do not need to concern yourself. Truly, I need to do this. It will help. I know it will. Perhaps only in some small way, but…” She shrugged and trailed off.

He nodded, though his brow was still furrowed.

“Are you finished or…?”

“Not quite… Very nearly…” She glanced back down at the parchment. “…I think.”

“Do you want me to wait a little longer and then we both go to eat together?”

She looked up at him gratefully. He nodded once more with an understanding smile, then retook his seat on the grass and worked on his carving until, a little while later, he heard a quiet sigh above him.

“Finished.”

This time when he stood up he held out his hand for her to take as she slid off the rock. Once she was on the grass beside him there was a moment when she held the rolled up parchment in her hand and simply looked at it numbly. Halladan slid one arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him and resting his chin upon her head; as he did so she turned into him, holding him and struggling not to burst into tears against his chest, just clinging onto him until the emotion subsided a little. She pulled away from him, rather self-conscious all of a sudden and not wanting to stay overlong in his arms. She wiped the heel of her hand hard against either cheek, though in truth the tears were in her eyes and not yet fallen. She sniffed and nodded then blew out hard and cleared her throat.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

“Yes. Thank you. I… Thank you for keeping me company.”

“No need to thank me, Pen-ii. You should know that by now.”

Dammit, and there she went again with the stomach flip as he caught her eye and smiled, and she could not help but smile back, even now with memories of Mum so strong in her head!

They set off back towards the horses and thence the camp and the midday meal but first making a detour to Penny’s tent where she left the parchment (and ran a wet cloth over her face) and then to Erestor’s tent; since there was no reply, Halladan rather than Penny ducked inside quickly (in the event of indisposed and partially dressed ellyn, as unlikely as that might have been) and left the quill and ink on top of the trunk beside Erestor’s bedroll.

If Penny was subdued as she ate and had little appetite, it was perhaps understandable. It seemed word of what she had been up to had indeed travelled since not only did Glorfindel call them over to join him when he caught sight of them (with he, Lindir and Elrohir all giving Penny sympathetic looks as she sat down), but Arvain actually stood up from where he had been with some of the Dunedain and came to sit beside her on the other side of Halladan, giving her a smile as he squeezed her hand.

It was very kind of them, but Penny honestly felt like she wanted to be alone right at that moment. Fairly soon, therefore, she muttered an excuse and made to stand only to be checked by the arrival of Tadion and Faelon.

“What, leaving already, Pen-ii? But I have hardly seen you this day and I leave tomorrow!”

Tadion was all cheerful smiles.

“And why in Arda should she want to spend more time with you than she had to, Tadion?” Arvain was grinning as he spoke.

“Come now, cousin, that is a little harsh, is it not? I do not think Pen-ii is so ungracious as to not consider me something of a friend by now. Is that not so, Pen-ii?”

His smile was wide, warm and genuine, and Penny did her best to respond in kind.

“Do not forget Mireth wanted to see you,” Halladan said, turning to Penny.

“She did?” She blinked and then caught his rather knowing look and the insistent expression of his raised eyebrows. “Oh, yes, yes, of course, thank you, yes, she did.” Penny got to her feet, grateful for the ‘out’ Halladan had presented her with.

“What, now?” Tadion was all smiling regret. “Ah, well, this evening then, perhaps. I mean to take some little revenge if I can on Arvain’s telling tales of my youth before we part company, Pen-ii.”

“Oh, indeed?” Penny’s grin was wide now. “You can add to the few tales I already heard from Halladan last night, in that case.”

“Oh?” Arvain’s head shot up and he looked between Penny and Halladan with some alarm.

“Yes, he told me the tale of Faelon’s bull among other things.”

Arvain turned a rather interesting colour and spluttered in embarrassment and fury while Tadion near enough fell backwards with laughter, Lindir and Glorfindel joining him and Elrohir grinning widely; Halladan was chuckling like a thing demented. Penny, even managing a giggle, practically skipped off into the crowd as behind her Arvain could be heard roaring at his brother with Tadion still hooting with laughter over the din.

Mireth had indeed suggested washing some clothes that afternoon (though Penny had not told Halladan that) and Penny now took her up on it, glad to have something to occupy herself with. The pool at the base of the hill was cool and pleasant, the trees reflected in the water as it rippled past them and then trickled over the far edge slowly and down into the woods via a tumbling stream. Mireth busily inspected Penny’s two dresses before she washed them, muttering about how they were looking travel-worn and tired and how she would need to have new ones once they reached Imladris. Penny, well aware how much work that would involve, suggested she try to make her own. Mireth did a valiant job of not laughing out loud at the suggestion and merely said that ‘perhaps it might be best if Pen-ii were to help and then she could learn how it was done.’

By the time they finally got back up the hill it was edging towards mid-afternoon and it was immediately apparent that the Dunedain were collecting horses and making preparations to set up their sparring ground. In the time it took for Mireth, Penny and those ellith with them to hang up their dresses and undershifts from lines running between two of the ellith’s tents, the sparring, training and exercise was well underway. Mireth suggested they go and watch for a while and Penny agreed readily, glad to have the distraction as well as something to occupy others and which she could be a part of while she thought through what she wanted to do with her letter. When they got to the far side of the camp they found that several of the elves had joined the Dunedain as was their wont, if only to pass the time. The hobbits were also back from their day out and had a good time of it by all accounts. Glorfindel had gone with them as well as Naurdir and a few others from Imladris, and they had all come back with enough rabbits to make up a fair amount of stew.

“That and we found several wild cherry trees in full fruit,” Pippin explained as Mireth and Penny sat down next to them. “We brought back bags full of them!”

“That is a sight I shall never forget,” Sam conceded, “Lord Glorfindel, jewels at his breast and on his shoulders, shinning up a tree like a squirrel.”

Mireth laughed loudly (though Penny’s laughter was slightly delayed while she double-checked she had understood properly with Frodo).

“I shall tell him you called him that, shall I?”

Sam flushed a little but also looked a touch defiant.

“He told him as much to his face,” Merry explained, laughing.

“It just slipped out,” Sam muttered, getting redder by the second, “before I had time to stop myself.”

And it seemed word had spread because even as they talked they heard a shout from those waiting their turn to gallop at the swinging tree trunk of “Your turn next, Squirrel Glorfindel!” followed by loud laughter.

“Lindir,” Mireth said, lifting her chin to indicate where Lindir was sitting astride his horse alongside Glorfindel, grinning widely. “I might have guessed.”

Penny watched idly for an hour or so, sometimes focusing her attention on what was going on, but otherwise off in her own world with memories of her mother and her childhood. However it had to be said she did less thinking and more watching when Halladan and Arvain appeared to join their cousin, all three raising their hands and grinning in Penny’s direction.

It was not long after that that it all went horribly wrong.

Halladan, normally a dab hand at this, seemed momentarily fixated by Tadion and another Dunedain both galloping at the branch at the same time, both riding towards him as he awaited his turn and both diving either side of the branch as it swung to and fro – a manoeuvre that clearly showed great skill (and, frankly, not a little insanity as far as Penny was concerned) given it involved split second timing to avoid being hit in the head by the piece of wood as it recoiled from the blow it received from one or other of the men as they thundered past it or else the other man’s blade. Both men were roaring as they went, not something that everyone did or not every time, but every now and then it happened as if the person was trying to gee themselves up and get in the mood, or (very possibly in Tadion’s case) just to be plain daft. The sun was getting low and the glint and gleam of the two mens’ swords, raised high in their hands as they had ridden hard and fast towards Halladan, had been quite something and for a moment Halladan seemed mesmerised. Then he shook himself slightly and set off towards the target in his turn, quickly gaining speed with his sword low in his hand at first…

But he never raised it to strike the wood. Indeed just before he reached the target it was as if the horse were leading him rather than the other way about he seemed so still and stiff in his saddle all of a sudden. Watching him intently, perhaps more intently than she had watched anyone else (as might be expected), Penny noticed the change in him instantly and sat a little more upright suddenly, her heart beating fast, alarmed now and not wholly sure why she should be so.

And then in that same split second he had reached the target, which was still swinging wildly after the last blows it had received, but he was not even aware of it and was riding straight for it, going to be knocked clean from his saddle and even those watching could see it coming because many jumped to their feet and several shouted out all at once. Penny had leapt to her feet along with them even as she watched him now suddenly come to but barely in time to take in where he was or the fact that the wood was so close to him.

He ducked, lunging sideways, but not quickly enough.

The huge piece of wood caught him broadsides though not enough to dislodge him – his quick reflexes had spared him that much – but enough for him to crumple slightly from the blow and even Penny could hear the loud, sharp groan from behind his teeth. He was slumped forward in pain, clinging onto the horse’s neck to keep himself on the animal as it still raced away at speed. He said a word to the animal and it started slowing almost immediately but he did not wait for it to come to a stop before swinging his leg over its rump and sliding out of the saddle, stumbling slightly as he hit the ground and holding his side and wincing as he did so.

Mireth was running to him, suddenly in professional healer mode, as were Arvain, Faelon and Tadion. But so was Penny, before she even realised she was doing so, running hell for leather as fast as her legs could carry her, her heart beating so hard she thought it would burst; and once she realised what she was doing it was too late anyway but she also knew she did not give two monkeys if it was the done thing or if it would raise comment. He was her friend and they were close and she could say she was coming with Mireth even if the truth of it was that it had been a purely instinctive reaction on her part. Now she knew what he meant to her, to have witnessed what she just had was unbelievably upsetting, and she was trying not to listen to the voice in her head which was now loudly and belligerently wondering if this was what could happen with a mere lump of wood, how would he fare against far more dangerous foes once he was off and away in the wilds?

Shit, shit and SHIT!

And she knew all too well he would think exactly the same thing and beat himself up endlessly about it. Damn it all to HELL and back! She could throttle Tadion! Him and his damn roaring and waving his sword about like an idiot! In fact as she reached Halladan at last it was near enough at the same time as Tadion, and he was somewhat taken aback at the ferocious glare Penny threw in his direction as they caught sight of one another. Mireth had beaten her and several others to it, though, and was already giving him the once over.

“It is nothing, truly,” Halladan was saying to her, to everyone now milling round him and no one in particular all at once. “Please stop fussing, Mi-ARGH!” He cried out as Mireth touched his ribs, a serious look on her face. Mireth looked up, spotted Elrohir, nodded just once and Elrohir was instantly off and running to find his father.

As Penny watched all this unfold, one of a small crowd now, Arvain beside her, she made no attempt to cover the concern on her face – she just wanted to know he was not too seriously injured, but even if that proved to be the case she was still concerned by the psychological impact it might have on him.

Mireth was muttering at Halladan, telling him she needed to assess the damage properly. He pushed her hand away.

“I can undo my own damn belt, Mireth!”

But her deft elven fingers had already unknotted it and it slid to his feet even as he spoke. So instead he began pulling open the fastenings on his tunic, undoing just enough of them so he could pull it over his head. He had lifted his arms (with much wincing and sucking in of his breath) to do precisely that when he suddenly saw Penny and hesitated. Penny was not sure she had ever seen him look genuinely embarrassed before. She looked away, hoping she had not been staring.

“Mireth, I am sure it is nothing more than bruising,” Faelon suddenly cut in smoothly. “Let us get him to our tent and we can inspect the damage there. If it is more serious, then Elrond can have a look at him.”

“Nonsense, Faelon, do you think I have not seen all sorts as a healer?! Did I not have to help your grandfather to bathe himself when he was wounded by an orc’s arrow on his way to Imladris one time?!”

“Mireth…” Celebdor raised an amused eyebrow at her.

“Yes, yes, very well, very well.” Mireth did not seem happy about leaving Halladan without checking him properly. She gently felt his side once more, Halladan wincing a little as she did so. “I do not think you have broken a rib… though without lifting your tunic…”

“Do not worry, Mireth, we will look after him,” Faelon reassured her. “You have my word.”

“Tell you what, my love,” Celebdor said brightly, chortling, “I shall bring you a full and detailed report of every bruise and scratch, their shape, colour and their every extent. How does that sound?”

“Oh very funny, Celebdor,” Halladan muttered bitterly, even as he let Faelon take the arm on his uninjured side and wrap it round his neck, then bring his own arm round Halladan’s waist to help take the strain. “Most amusing. Ha ha.”

Mireth on the other hand ignored her betrothed and addressed herself to Faelon.

“I will fetch you liniment and bandages.” She turned to leave. “Pen-ii? Come and help me.”

Penny did as she was asked, glad in some small way to actually be of use. As she turned to leave, though, she spotted Halladan’s belt still lying on the floor, knife, pouch and scabbard still attached. She started towards it, thinking to pick it up and hand it to whoever was nearest and going with Halladan, but Arvain beat her to it having already picked up Halladan’s fallen sword from nearby. He looked up at her as he crouched down to retrieve the belt.

“Try not to worry, Pen-ii. I am sure he has done little damage other than some bruising as Faelon said.”

She nodded as he gently smiled reassuringly at her. She tried to return it but she was not sure how well she succeeded.

She started to follow Mireth and, as she did so, looked back for a moment as Halladan started to gingerly make his way towards the Dunedain edge of the camp, Faelon supporting him, Glorfindel now on the other side of him hovering in case he needed to be bodily carried and various ellyn and Dunedain around them. Halladan happened to glance her way and caught her eye. He gave her a rueful smile then shook his head and attempted a chuckle at himself only to immediately regret it and wince. Penny winced in sympathy.

“It is not serious, I promise you,” he called over to her. “A mere knock and nothing more. Rest assured, Pen-ii.”

She nodded, trying to believe him, and then hurried off to catch up with Mireth who was already speeding ahead to find Elrond and fetch whatever might be needed.

“It is to be expected she would be concerned,” Penny could just hear Faelon saying behind her. “You have become close friends.”

It was Tadion who replied, though Penny was out of earshot by the time he spoke.

“Yes indeed. She came running, though, did she not?... OW! What was that for, Arvain?! No, I will not shut up! YOU damn well shut up!”

Author’s Notes:

I forgot to mention last time – a few people asked what Penny was referring to here: "a story about a man utterly failing to avenge a murder that might not have even happened which was considered one of the greatest stories of her people". It was 'Hamlet'.

As ever, many thanks for the reviews, comments and patience from you all. At least I got this chapter done a good bit quicker than the last one, right?