Chapter 56 – “Home Again, Home Again, (Jiggety-jig)”

In many ways the arrival at Imladris felt to Penny like coming home. In part it was the very nature of the place – it was not called ‘The Last Homely House’ for no reason – and the way of the elves that any enclave of theirs was a place of warmth, repose and ease where any heart felt comforted and comfortable. However, after the long journey through ever-changing scenery and peoples, Imladris had become something of a ‘base camp’ in her mind, the place of return where she felt at her most relaxed, where she knew what was what and how things were rather than feeling like an object of suspicion, derision, ridicule or contempt. Yes, she had her issues with being unskilled and a little useless, but these people were her friends and she had been made to feel very much part of the general company amongst them, something she had noticed very particularly on their travels when she had found how out of sorts she was with other mortals (apart from the Dunedain) and even other elves, as the stand-offishness of most of the Galadhrim towards her had proved.

Dusk had been drawing in when at last they crossed over the little bridge to the trees and the twinkling lights beyond the great gates, singing all round them and those left behind coming to greet them with smiles and embraces and song. The hobbits had barely leapt from their ponies before they were haring through the corridors calling out for Bilbo, soon found snoozing beside a fire somewhere. For Penny, as she had led her horse to the stables behind Lindir and several others, there was a strange sense of relief to be back, a sense that she was finally back on firm ground and could put all the stress and trauma of the last couple of months behind her at long last.

The next day she was invited to celebrate Bilbo’s birthday tea with him, along with quite a few others including Gandalf. He apologised profusely for not having got any presents ready for them though the elves there protested it was hardly practical nor possible for him to consider giving gifts to everyone in the place.

“We have this discussion with him every year,” Mireth murmured quietly to Frodo.

“Well, you arrived so unexpectedly,” Bilbo explained. “I mean to say we knew you would be back around this sort of time, but the day before my birthday? Well, well.” He chuckled. “Perfect timing on Elrond’s part, of course. He knew you would want to be here.”

A little while later as he dozed quietly in the best chair nearest the fire and everyone else finished off the fresh-made seedcake Naurdir had made specially for the occasion, and Gandalf and the rest of the hobbits happily puffed on their pipes, Pippin could not help but remark softly how much older Bilbo seemed. There was a lull in the murmured conversation in the room after he had spoken as everyone became briefly lost in their thoughts, and it was just a long enough pause for Bilbo to stir slightly and half open one eye.

“Of course, I’m older,” he muttered. “It is my birthday, after all.”

Then he drifted off once more muttering something about ‘fool of a Tuk’ which had everyone looking at Gandalf in some amusement. Gandalf coughed slightly.

“We may have, um, had one or two discussions in the past about the merits or otherwise of being a member of certain hobbit family trees. Ahem. Oh, stop sulking into your tea like that, Razanur, even you would be the first to admit that…”

“I am not sulking in the least. After all, it is the eccentric wanderings of a certain Labingi family that are all the talk of Suza.”

Frodo’s laughter was just as loud as everyone else’s, even more so when Bilbo stirred in his ‘sleep’ once again, this time to note that the level of ‘bare faced cheek’ seemed to be undiminished in certain quarters.

Later that evening at supper in the great dining hall, Penny was quizzed on her local customs at birthdays.

“I take it you celebrate them?” Frodo asked her, repeating the question for her in Sindarin since she seemed unsure of the word ‘celebrate’.

“Of course they do!” Merry exclaimed. “Who cannot resist the excuse for a party?!”

Sam was looking wistful, his cheek in his hand and his elbow on the table as he stabbed absently at his stew with a spoon.

“That is something I have missed. A real, good party. With proper Suza ale.”

“And Gandalf’s fireworks!”

“And the party tree!”

“Ah, yes,” Frodo was laughing, “we have had some good times there in the past.”

Penny felt uncomfortable at the mention of it, but managed to cover it by taking a sip of wine. Talk of the Shire had slowly increased the nearer they had got to Imladris, and now that they knew that the next part of the journey would be the homeward stretch and had met up with Bilbo once more it was often on the lips of the hobbits. Penny was glad that, now she was back in Imladris with a hundred things to do and a thousand things to learn, she would be able to very easily escape such talk with readily found excuses to be busy elsewhere: something that had not always been possible whilst travelling.

“Forgive us, Pen-ii,” Frodo turned to her, smiling. “You were saying?”

“Yes, we do celebrate such things. We might have a party or do something fun with friends and family. The only difference is that it is the one whose birthday it is that gets presents, rather than them giving presents to others.”

Frodo quickly translated for the other three, though Pippin had picked up a smattering of Sindarin during his time at Gondor and then travelling north in the company and nodded as Frodo spoke as if he had understood it all the first time round. The revelation that you got presents on your birthday rather than giving them was met with some astonishment.

“But you do have a party?” Merry asked. Penny nodded.

“And good food?” Sam chipped in. Penny nodded once again and grinned as her answer was met with broad smiles and general approval.

“So, when is your birthday, then?”

It was Pippin who had asked, in all innocence, but Penny’s hesitation as she realised she had no idea exactly within the elvish or even Shire calendar did not go unnoticed. Pippin actually opened his mouth to apologise if he had caused her any discomfort, remembering that, of course, the last time they had all been together in Imladris she had still been suffering from her apparent amnesia and rescue from the wilds.

“Winter,” she managed to say in her poor Westron. “Very…” She waved her hands, struggling for the word. She turned to Frodo and resorted to Sindarin. “Late autumn, very early winter,” she explained. “I do not know when it is exactly with your calendar. Ours is different.”

“Then you should find out,” Frodo said with a friendly, sincere smile. “After all, the leaves will be turning golden all too soon, indeed autumn is already upon us. Perhaps it is not too far off?”

Yes, she supposed it probably would be soon. Not more than a month and a half at most, and possibly less.

She felt a slight pang at the realisation. She had been here nearly a year. It seemed like a lifetime. Of course, she had been aware in retrospect, especially when she had discussed the calendar with Erestor long ago, that she had ‘missed’ her birthday last time round, but then she had had a lot of other things to think about at the time given it had probably been barely two or three weeks after the horrible, nightmarish day when Halbarad had first found her. That and it would have seemed very odd to have marked it, given it had been January when she had ‘left’ and not even three months since the last time she had…

Yeah, there was that pang again.

Mum had cooked her meal the night before, she remembered, and had invited her brother over, though he had turned up late and not bothered with a present, claiming he was skint.

“I’ll buy you a drink some time,” he had said, grinning.

She had very nearly said something sarcastic in reply but had caught Mum’s eye and bitten her tongue. She had overheard Mum giving him what-for later in the kitchen, though, saying the least he could have done was buy a card. Not that it mattered. It was par for the course where Michael was concerned, so she had hardly been surprised. She would have been more shocked if he had bought her a present, to be frank.

The night of her birthday proper she had gone out for a quick drink with her work colleagues before meeting up with old friends for a meal and a tour of the bars before meandering down to one of the parks on the south of the river for the fireworks and bonfire. She had come home arm in arm with one of her best mates, laughing drunkenly, each holding a huge balloon in the shape of a banana. Then eaten ice cream and gossiped till the early hours on her sofa. It had been a hoot.

She was aware the conversation around her had moved on, Frodo having translated her words and now the hobbits sharing reminiscences of ‘parties we have known’. She made her excuses and went to find Erestor. The situation was explained and they wandered to his study where, on examining the calendar he had in one of his many large, leather-backed tomes and making a quick calculation based on the sheaf of notes he had made earlier in the year when she had explained the Gregorian calendar to him, it was clear that the seventh of November would be in a little over five weeks time.

It was a rather odd feeling to have the day firmly fixed in her mind at last.

“We shall have to find some way to celebrate it for you,” Erestor said.

“Oh,” she had flapped a hand vaguely at him, embarrassed slightly that it might seem that that was what she had been angling for. “There is no need to…” She was also not wholly sure she really wanted to mark the occasion given the memories and sense of loss it would inevitably invoke.

“We shall not make a big occasion of it. None of us would wish it to become too strong a reminder of those you have lost, but it still should be marked in some small way much as we did for Bilba earlier this afternoon. Speak to Naurdir. See if there is anything in particular you would like him to make for you.”

Penny remained non-committal, not wanting to make a fuss for several different reasons, and left hurriedly for bed. Erestor, however, discreetly took it upon himself to tell her friends when the day would be and discuss how best to they might mark it for her in as unobtrusive a way possible while also not letting Penny know any of it.

No sooner had they returned to Imladris than life for Penny quickly settled into a routine, much of it involving learning new skills or improving old ones in several different areas of expertise at once; and she threw herself into it all with gusto. She relished having things to learn and to occupy her time. After the decision she had made regarding marriage in general (and Halladan in particular, in the unlikely event that would ever come to anything), having things to distract her from the sadness she sometimes felt helped enormously and was something of a comfort, but she was also just as determined to do her damnedest to learn as much as she could from what the elves could teach her in advance of going to live with Faelon’s family. Even so, within a day or two, Penny quickly realised she was suffering from information overload and again sought out Erestor, who gifted her a small book with blank pages where she could carefully write out notes each evening on everything she had learnt that day.

She was placed on the cleaning rota, usually with Mireth or one of the other ellith that had shared her tent for all those months. Every other day, first thing after breakfast, she would find herself sweeping, mopping floors, dusting, or whatever was needed. This in itself was nothing new since she had joined in on such regular duties before, but now the ellith would take the opportunity to teach her about specific tips and methods for general housekeeping: how best to clean certain items and stains, be they on furniture, walls or clothes. She was also told she would learn how to make soap, scented oils and shampoos, as well as what plants could be used for cleaning.

For at least one meal every day she was in the kitchens with Naurdir helping him prepare the dish or dishes of the day as one of the several that worked there under his supervision. Once again this was something she had done before, but now, as her confidence and ability progressed, Naurdir began to teach her various easy-to-make dishes, getting her to cook them by herself – perhaps just enough for one or two people, sometimes more, but for no more than six people at any one time, a plateful at most - and then whoever was unfortunate enough to be collared by her in the dining hall would be the guinea-pigs for these first culinary attempts.

At first she could tell people were being polite. Elves would chew smilingly but have no more than a few mouthfuls. The hobbits were marginally less picky about their food but were also more vocal in their tips – it needed more salt, was a little undercooked for their taste, if she tried adding this herb or that vegetable next time, perhaps? But as the weeks went by there were one or two dishes that she managed to cook to a certain level of competence, and certainly Naurdir felt she was picking things up. She found that having watched him and leant him a hand so frequently as they had travelled had helped her quite considerably since, even if what they had cooked in the camps had been basic and repetitive, as she had worked Naurdir had often spoken to her about various recipes, dishes and how particular flavours combined. In many ways he had mentally prepped her for the learning to come, though she had little realised it at the time.

He also insisted she regularly come to watch (and, soon enough, to help) whenever there was an animal carcass, large or small, to be butchered.

“You have to learn, Pen-ii. When Halladan or Faelon comes home with hare, fish, birds or deer, you will have to help cut it up. On occasion you might have to do so by yourself. You need to know what parts of the animal are used in which ways and how best to cut them for cooking or preserving.”

“I know, Naurdir, I know!”

So, slowly, she learnt how to not only carve up animals, prepare the various constituents and cook them, but also how to smoke, salt or dry the meat (and which bits of the animal were best used for that). Of course, this also included explanations on how the whole animal could be used – how to cook and extract the marrow, how to prepare the sinews so that they could be used for binding and sewing, how to scrape the skins and then leave them stretched out to dry, how horns and even bone could be used to make tools and useful or decorative objects.

Nor was it only meat she learnt to preserve. With the annual autumn glut of produce well underway, now was the time for making jams, preserves and jars of pickled or preserved whole fruits and vegetables to tide Imladris for many months to come. In discussions over afternoon tea with the hobbits which occasionally Penny could not avoid, they also passed on their own particular tips and recipes (of which they had umpteen) for such things. Sam was, inevitably, a mine of useful information of how to best store fruit and veg.

Watching him at work with Celebdor, it was obvious he took a quiet enjoyment in carefully washing and drying the apples, then laying them out in the low wooden crates made especially for their storage and covering them in straw. He missed tilling the Shire’s rich soil, though, and felt it keenly each time he helped dig up a fresh batch of potatoes or pull a few cabbages. It was why, if she could, Penny for the most part tried to work in another part of the kitchen gardens from him, though on those occasions when they worked side by side there was a strange bitter-sweet thrill to hear him talk of such things.

Also under Naurdir’s direction, Penny tried her hand at preparing everyday staples such as cheese, bread and butter. Again, much of this she had seen being done before, but now it was as if she were a true apprentice, not a mere observer or interested passer-by. Every step would be carefully explained, with whoever was teaching her asking her questions to check she had understood. Then they would examine her technique, correcting her where need be, and then insist she come back another time to do it all again… and again… and then tell her she was part of the regular crew and would be expected to turn up as and when called upon which, given there was much to be done since Imladris had been running on a something close to a skeleton crew for some months, meant she had little time when she was not doing one thing or another. But a busy Penny was a happy Penny, so she was not complaining.

In each of these matters she was taught the techniques, often only watching the first several times unless it was felt it was a simple enough task for her to try it herself. They also only taught her those things that, within Dunedain society, a woman would be either expected to do or it would not be unusual for them to do. As they said to her, whether she achieved any level of competence within the months she had before she was to leave was almost of no consequence, so long as none of these techniques were wholly unfamiliar and an anathema to her when she faced them under Morfinniel’s gentle tutelage. That was the point. If, however, she picked up a technique quickly enough so as to be at a reasonable level of ability prior to that, then all to the better, but it was not the main aim nor, did it seem, was it expected. They were patient with her and Penny concentrated hard and listened and watched carefully. This time round it was less about ‘finding something to fill your time with so you can help out a little’ and more about ‘learning the essential skills you will need in the years ahead.’

Meanwhile, Mireth measured her for two new winter dresses. Penny was itching to use the red fabric from Gondor, but Mireth pointed out that was a lighter material, more suitable for warmer weather, and while she might get some wear out of it before winter set in, of more immediate concern were heavier weight dresses that would also stand up better to gardening, cleaning and feeding the pigs. Mireth insisted she be kitted out for a full wardrobe, though the two dresses would be the start of it. By the time she left Imladris, Penny would have summer and winter dresses, two shawls, a full-length hooded cloak that, in typical elvish style, was both incredibly lightweight and yet both warm and waterproof, several pairs of leggings, a pair of calf-length, calf-skin, rabbit fur lined boots for winter as well as four pairs of elvish delicate slipper shoes, and several shifts along with, of course, at Penny’s request, four or five bust-supporting blouses.

This latter involved Mireth and Penny discussing between them how best to make such a thing, Penny drawing a ‘bra’ as best she could on the slates in the sewing room to explain her point while the ellith crowded round and eyed the drawing with interest. Over the coming weeks, Mireth and Penny between them modified the standard pattern for the top of a shift with darts so that it was tighter round the bust, but also offered support underneath by the means of fasteners as well as a thin strap to be tied at the back. Mireth assured Penny it would be easy enough to produce a full length shift with similar support, though she did not think it would be comfortable for sleeping in, hence Penny keeping several ‘ordinary’ shifts within her wardrobe.

All this was for the coming weeks and months, however. For now, Penny got to watch every stage as her two new dresses were made from scratch, becoming part of the team to help in doing so. Once the pieces were being quickly sewn together, Mireth then declared that, rather than continue with teaching Penny embroidery and fancywork (which she could continue in her own time since it was simply a case of practise and perfecting technique), she would teach her the practical things she would need to do with a needle whilst helping to run a house. Penny could now manage a few basic stitches and, while they did not have the neatness of an elf’s, nor could she manage the speed at which they could work, they were fair enough, so Mireth said, as to be a start. Thus it was that it became generally made known that if anyone had a tunic that needed mending or a work apron that needed patching that Penny was in the market to learn how.

Lindir was the first to brave her ‘skill’. He arrived at the sewing room one afternoon with an old, patched tunic that he usually wore when mucking out the horses saying that he was more than capable of mending it himself (which he was), but he wanted to see just how bad a job she would make of it.

“Oh, thank you very much!”

“Prove me wrong,” he said, grinning and giving her a wink.

And she did.

“Not too bad,” he had to admit when he inspected the brand new patch she had put on it. “A little too small, perhaps, and a little tight, but for a first attempt it is very fair.”

Penny beamed.

Lindir did not tell her that he later removed it and sewed it back on before using the tunic. She had indeed done a reasonable job for a first attempt; it was simply that he knew that one bend of his elbow would be all it would take for the thing to just rip straight off again if he did not redo it.

As the days passed she cut curds, kneaded dough, managed to dissect a rabbit (admittedly already beheaded, de-skinned and de-footed) under Naurdir’s sharp gaze without even feeling nauseous, was out feeding the chickens or the goats before breakfast most mornings, washed beautifully mosaiced corridors and repaired half the ancient tunics in Imladris (or so it seemed).

Aside from all this work organised for her she usually had between a few to several hours every day, most often in the afternoons, free to do as she pleased. She would spend this time variously, depending upon her mood or the weather. For the most part she was out in the gardens learning from Celebdor as best she could. He also made a point of explaining not just what needed to be done now that autumn was upon them, but what would be done throughout the year. As well as cropping, there were seeds to be collected, others sown, propagating to be done, clearing, digging… Penny loved working there and was showing some potential skill as a budding gardener. Celebdor’s main focus with her was the fruit, vegetables and herbs since that is what she would need to know for her life ahead of her.

Indeed, this latter work inspired her to ask Mireth to teach her a little basic herbal medicine, so sometimes Mireth would walk with her through the herb gardens pointing out the plants, teaching Penny their names and their uses. Penny would diligently then write them out that evening along with everything Celebdor and everyone else had taught her that day, often bringing her book, quill and ink to a quiet room with Mireth sewing beside her so she could double-check the name of something with Mireth if she needed to.

As well as gardening she also went back to painting pots and struggling to try and improve her skills at the potter’s wheel (with some slow progress it had to be said). She teasingly scolded the potters for having given her over the odds for the pots she had painted for them when they went to market; and while they admitted it, grinning, they did also say that the pots she painted had sold well since “the ordinary mortals here in the north are, for the most part, so over-awed by the beauty of an elvish piece that we like to keep things that we send to market relatively simple,” it was explained. “Your decorations suit mortal tastes admirably well. They have the satisfaction of knowing the piece is crafted by elves and thus is well made to the highest standard, while the pattern being simple and basic enough to be of functional use whilst being pleasing to the eye.”

It was not quite a back-handed compliment, but close to it.

Sometimes she would spend an hour or so with Erestor in his study, discussing the history of the Dunedain and the north which was a subject that fascinated her given it was something she had known almost nothing about prior to arriving in Imladris. She had gleaned much from her time sat by the Dunedain fires from their stories and song, but it had been somewhat haphazard and without any sense of the overall historical context – who was who and where they came in the timeline. Erestor, ever happy to find an eager pupil, was glad to discuss it all with her, lend her books on Dunedain history including collections of poems, stories and ballads, and also get others who had witnessed much of it firsthand to tell her of their own experiences either in general or of a specific individual or event from centuries long past. Several times she found herself surrounded by Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Glorfindel and a few others telling tales from long ago, much to her delight and amusement. Bilbo nearly always managed to appear for such discussions as well, often with Gandalf in tow.

Bilbo wholeheartedly approved her having been ‘adopted’ by the Dunedain (as he put it). He had a great respect for Aragorn and thought highly of the Dunedain he had met (which was quite a number of them given the length of time he had now lived at Imladris). He remembered Halbarad’s boys and had been sorry to hear of the loss of both Halbarad and Hirvell. His strongest memory of Halladan, he said, would forever be of a tall youth, just on the edge of manhood, about to ride out to hunt in wrinkly leggings. Penny laughed.

“Ah, yes, they told me about that. It seems Halladan had to put up with quite a lot from his brothers when they were younger.”

“So I gather, so I gather,” Bilbo said, nodding thoughtfully. Then gently sucking on his pipe he narrowed his eyes at the board, leaned forwards and zig-zagged his piece across it and sat back to look at her. “You have got rusty, Pen-ii, during your long time away.”

She shrugged and smiled. “You always did beat me, Bilba.”

Just then the door burst open as Frodo held it open for Merry and Pippin who had two trays laden with tea, cakes, bread, jam, butter, cheese and more fruit than even seemed reasonable. Sam was behind them, a jug of milk in one hand a large seedcake in the other.

“Ah, you’re here, Pen-ii? Good!” Frodo was smiling. “Ban was not sure if you would be able to come today given how firmly buried you were in the orchard when he left you last, and we missed you yesterday.”

Pippin caught sight of the draughts board.

“Ai, Pen-ii! You did not agree to play Bilba again, did you?” He laughed. “Will you never learn?”

Bilbo hrumphed and, magnanimous in victory, said Penny was a reasonable player… in her own way. Penny shook her head at him, laughing, and began to pour the tea even as Gandalf, Mireth and Elrohir arrived to join them.

Erestor had also offered to give Penny occasional art lessons, an offer she was thrilled to accept. He taught her to use charcoal or ink and quill on large, thin pieces of wood that could then be washed off and reused. At first it was an awkward way of working, but she soon got the hang of it. She preferred the charcoal at first, finding it easier and more instinctive, but after a while appreciated the detail she could achieve with the quill, and so she would alternate between the two.

At first she felt her pictures to be ridiculously simplistic and childish, especially compared to the astonishing artwork visible even in the elegant friezes round Imladris, but Erestor was, as ever, a patient and gentle teacher, encouraging and genuinely helpful in the advice he gave. If they were outside then often they would be joined by one or two others – Glorfindel, Lindir or Elrohir, perhaps – who would talk quietly or read to themselves while Penny worked. Once Bilbo and Gandalf came to sit with them, Glorfindel allowing Bilbo to recite to him snatches of a poem about Gondolin he was working on (Erestor had raised an eyebrow and glanced at Penny who had suppressed a snigger) while Gandalf lit his pipe and puffed contentedly.

However, aside from all these various skills that Penny needed to learn or perfect, and which helped to keep her mind occupied, there was another perhaps more pressing matter that needed dealing with. It had been hanging over her for quite some time now, and she had only been waiting for the return to Imladris to finally be able to talk to Mireth alone and where there would be no danger of interruption or elvish ears flapping like crazy.

It took a few days for Penny to get her head round the routine before she had an opportunity to ask Mireth to come with her to her room at a time when she knew neither of them would have to rush off anywhere for a while so that they could talk privately and at length if need be.

She began shyly at first, not really knowing quite how to go about it, and in the end rambled on about how sorry she was for not telling Mireth sooner, how she had wanted to but with the lack of privacy while travelling there had never been a good opportunity and then the longer she had gone without saying anything, the more difficult it had seemed to even broach the subject. At last Penny got to the point, Mireth sitting patiently beside her on the bed, smiling softly, as Penny blurted out that her foresight had not quite been foresight exactly and she had never had amnesia, when suddenly Mireth gently took Penny’s hand into her own, stopping her short in mid-chaotic flow.

“I know,” she said simply, and Penny gaped at her.

“Wh-what?”

“Arwen confided in me, in Eleniel also, a week or two before we left Minas Tirith.”

Penny could do nothing but blink at her in stupefaction.

“She explained that you were alarmed by the idea of too many people knowing, how you had reacted to Lindir’s close questioning. But then, that is Lindir for you, he can be like a rat with a bone at times!” She laughed. “Both Eleniel and I realised long ago that all was not quite as it seemed, but we trusted Elrond and Arwen and those others who seemed to know more and that was enough for us. Arwen herself explained that you would probably tell us in your own time, but even if you did not she wanted those ellith closest to you to know if only… well, if only so we could help you should you need us.” Mireth smiled gently. “I am glad she did. It made some of the distress and turmoil you were in once we reached Rohan make more sense to me. I was better able to help you in the night when you had nightmares, for example.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Penny’s voice now barely a husky whisper with emotion.

“It was up to you to tell me, Pen-ii. I do not blame you for not telling me sooner, indeed I understand why you felt you could not. It was enough for me to be able to help in my own way. You had many others round you in whom you could confide more deeply. Besides, I already knew you had had detailed ‘foresight’ of what had taken place and some of what was to come. You had told me that much yourself. I already knew you had memory of your family, home and the society in which you grew up. What more does this knowledge add other than to give me a better idea of just how very distressing much of what you had been through would be for you? Do not feel guilty that you did not tell me before now. Feel glad that Arwen wanted two ellith she trusts greatly to have this knowledge about you so that they could better look after you.”

Penny felt like a great weight had lifted off her shoulders as she hugged Mireth tight. She had shown her such true and kind friendship from her first day in Imladris that Penny really did not know how she could ever thank her enough. At least this now meant that, at last, the final barrier between them had fallen, and Penny could finally talk openly to Mireth just as she had always wanted to, though in truth it was hardly mentioned or referred to directly. It was enough to know that the other knew. That alone brought them closer.

Time passed quickly. But for all Penny had much to occupy herself with, both physically and mentally, there were still those moments when her thoughts drifted - perhaps in those few minutes as she lay in her bed at night, exhausted, waiting for sleep to wash over her or else when even physically occupied she was not mentally taxed such as when she sewed stitch after stitch down the sleeve of someone’s tunic or had an entire row of turnips to unearth – and they always drifted to the same thought.

Halladan.

Where was he? How was he faring? How was his leg and, perhaps more importantly, how was he in himself? Had he had any more ‘episodes’? What had he had to face so far? What had he found in the wilds or amongst his own? How changed was it?

God, she missed him. She missed his smile, his comforting presence, his laughter – that soft, deep, chuckle of his that would sometimes burst forth into a dark, hearty, full-throated laugh that you could not help but smile at in return it was so infectious. She missed his eyes, those soft grey eyes that caught the starlight.

Did he ever think about her?

Of course, she would get angry with herself the moment such thoughts entered her head, or at least once perfectly understandable wonderings about how he fared would then morph into that dull ache of separation and longing, followed inevitably by sadness for what could never be. It achieved nothing. The whole was a pointless exercise that only upset her. It was best avoided.

And yet she constantly thought of him, despite her best efforts.

Of course it was not helped by the fact that no word had reached her of what things were like out there beyond the safety net spun round the Vale of Imladris. She had no idea if the Dunedain had come home to a few ruffians lurking in the wilds or whole batches of evil things that had taken advantage of the absence of so many of the Rangers and poured north and west.

Often when Mireth and Penny sat together in the late afternoon or evening, doing a little sewing or Penny diligently scratching into her note book, Mireth would look up to find Penny staring out of a window, distracted.

“I am sure he is safe enough, Pen-ii,” she would murmur and Penny, startled out of her reverie, tried to play dumb the first time it happened but quickly accepted that Mireth knew her well enough.

“I know,” she would mutter. “I do, it is just…” She would shrug.

“I understand. But Elrond had done much to aid him, do not forget. That last episode in the camp was a very minor thing.”

And so Mireth would talk a little about elves she had known who had suffered similarly, how even Lindir had been affected when he lost his brother during the Battle of the Last Alliance, and how his distress had triggered a deep melancholy and brought back bitter memories when he then lost Meluieth, his betrothed.

But in truth it was not that Penny needed the reassurance that the elves knew well about such things, that he had been in the best possible healing hands during his time with them. It was the nagging worry of the unknown – of what he might or might not be facing and that it might well be he would be in his first full fight since he had seen Hirvell cut to pieces in front of his eyes. God alone knew what might or might not be triggered in such a situation.

Mireth could sense her anxiety and did her best to comfort her at such times.

Some word had come through to those that tended Elrond’s House in his absence, but for the most part the Dunedain, knowing Elrond and his household were gone south, had been sporadic in their visits. Penny had not known that even before they left there had been some rumour of one or two strangers seen in the region, though at the time little was thought of it.

It was two weeks before the first Dunadan arrived at Imladris after Elrond’s return, bringing with him news of the outside world and what it had faced these past few months. There was no reason why Penny would be a party to such information, and even if she had known who knew (though she could have guessed at some of those who had been present at the private interview in Elrond’s study), part of her was almost afraid to ask. It had been enough to overhear Lindir and Glorfindel commenting that those who had been on guard duty on the borders while they were gone had not been wholly idle.

The Dunadan when he came was not one she recognised, not having been one of the Grey Company that went south. He was perhaps a little older than Halladan but there was something about him that reminded her of Bregion, and she was not surprised to learn therefore that he was the second son of Bregion’s second cousin. He sought her out that evening as the company gathered in the Hall of Fire after supper.

“You must be Lady Pen-ii,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I have a message from Arvain and Halladan to let you know that they hope to be here within a week or so if they can.”

She tried to ignore the happy leap within her.

“How are they? You have seen them?”

He shook his head.

“No, but I met Bregion just a little north-west of here and he had run into them both a week previously.”

They talked a little – just idle talk about nothing much. He asked how she had liked the south and she was fairly brutally honest in her assessment of Gondor. He said he had heard she was to live with Faleon and his family and said he knew Morfinniel would take good care of her. Then he excused himself as he spotted Gandalf across the room, saying there were some things he needed to discuss with him.

By morning he was gone, having left at first light.

That same day was to be the hobbits’ last. The autumn nights were getting chill and all four had been getting increasingly restless, their thoughts turning ever homeward. Penny had been sorry to have not spent more time in their company in the fortnight since they had all got back, but the weight of what they would find once they got back to The Shire lay too heavily over her still, in spite of Galadriel’s assurances. Had it been within her to do so she would have urged them to leave straight away, but she knew she had to let matters take their own course and in that respect Galadriel’s words gave her strength and if not peace of mind then certainly acceptance.

She still wondered about Gandalf and how much he might or might not know. Only once did she catch him looking at her thoughtfully, sitting across the room from her in the Hall of Fire. It had been the same night of the Dunadan’s arrival, just after he had come from Elrond’s study where he had been in long consultation with him and various others upon whatever it was the Dunadan had had to relate. Penny had glanced up to find his gaze turned in her direction, his expression knowing and a little sad and then, before she could turn away or go to him or speak or do any one of the umpteen things that came to her mind all at once, his face had changed and he had turned to Sam sitting beside him with a ready smile and the moment was gone.

There had been a strange distance between them, growing slowly, almost imperceptible in its creep, ever since they had left Gondor. Before he had left as one of Elrond’s Nine Walkers he had been someone she could turn to, but now… It was like there was an unvoiced gulf between them, a white elephant in the room with them that neither of them referred to or acknowledged. And yet… and yet he had come to her that night when she had said farewell to her family, and he had always had a smile for her in gatherings, included her in any tale he told or thrown a witty side comment to her on occasion. It was as if they were both waiting until such time as it was finally all over and then they could talk freely once more. Penny did not know why she felt this to be the case, only that she was certain it was so, and that brief moment in the Hall of Fire only seemed to confirm it.

The night before the hobbits left, they were the focus of attention in the Hall of Fire. Long were the tales told in their honour and songs sung, so much so that even Pippin and Merry were flushing as much as Sam. Bilbo nodded off quietly but every now and then would rouse himself and say ‘hear, hear’, then turn to Frodo and mutter about how good it had been of him to ‘stop off and see him for a little while before heading on home.’

Penny made a point of sitting with the hobbits at breakfast and, as she said, enjoying one last pot of tea with them all if only for old time’s sake. She assured Merry she would continue to have tea with Bilbo every afternoon once they had gone, just as she had done when they had left the last time.

It seemed like the whole of Imladris had come to see them off. Those that were not milling round the steps were already in amongst the trees and singing gently. Penny took her farewell of them all in turn, and each of the four kissed her hand, Sam taking a moment to say in very slow Westron so she could understand him that he was glad that she seemed so much better than before, that he wished her well amongst the Dunedain and that he felt sure she would be well looked after.

“After all, they are kin of Aragorn and that alone should be enough for anyone.” He paused, his open and honest face looking up into hers. “We are glad for you, Pen-ii, for you seemed so very lost and distressed when we first met you.”

Penny, moved by the sincerity in his tone, did not know what to say.

“Take care, Ban. I feel so honoured and proud to have met you all and to have known you if only a little while. Look after Maura, won’t you?”

She had lapsed into Sindarin and as Sam smiled uncomprehendingly at her, Frodo, who Penny had not realised was standing so near, translated.

“She is telling you to look after me, Ban.” He seemed amused.

“Oh, that I will, Pen-ii, that I will. You have my word on it.” He was smiling but he was also in absolute earnest.

As the hobbits moved on to say farewell to others, ending with Elrond and his sons whom they had got to know so well, Penny walked over to where Gandalf was talking quietly with Erestor and Glorfindel. She waited patiently until Gandalf glanced to one side and noticed her. He smiled. Erestor and Glorfindel slid away into the crowd as he turned to her.

“Ah, Pen-ii. No need for a farewell, I will be back soon enough.”

“Oh?”

“Well, perhaps not for a month or two, it is true.” He paused. “There are people I need to see, places to check on. It has been too long since I last walked the northern paths. Who can say what has occurred while tumultuous events took place in the south?”

The smile was soft but the eyes were knowing and not so much hard as brightly aware, in total contrast to his relaxed demeanour. Penny said nothing, though she wanted to. Gandalf sighed.

“Ah, Pen-ii.”

He stepped towards her, extending one arm as he did so to take hold of her just above the elbow, gently but with a firm grip.

“Have I told you how proud I am of the strength you have shown? If not then forgive me.” He looked at her. “I can guess at what you would discuss with me but not yet. We shall not speak of it yet. When next we meet, that will be the time.”

And then he had turned away before Penny could find some adequate response (and what sort of response could she reasonably even begin to come up with in the face of that?), even as the hobbits were finally climbing into the saddles of their ponies, Shadowfax nodding his head as if eager to be off. Only a little while later, once he was astride the great while stallion and lifting his hand in farewell to all there, did she hear his voice in her head, and as she looked up at him in surprise she saw his eyes on her for a mere moment.

‘I have absolute faith in them, Pen-ii. They are a strong and noble race. Have they not already proved their mettle?’

As she watched them ride away, she felt a weight in the pit of her stomach but tried hard to keep the image of Galadriel clear in her head, and even as she did so it was as if she could hear her voice clear as day beside her repeating the words she had said to her weeks before: “Take comfort, Pen-ii, and let your heart be eased. Others have made the decision, not you.”

She still could not shake off the sense of guilt that dragged along behind her for the rest of the day.

The following evening, after supper, Elrond summoned her to his study. She was not surprised. She had been expecting it. He too had been not avoiding her exactly, but leaving her to her own devices somewhat of late, just as Gandalf had been doing. She did not think that it was wholly coincidental.

Just as she had suspected, when she knocked and was given permission to enter, there sat Glorfindel and Erestor on one side of the fire, Elladan, Elrohir and Lindir discussing some tome they had fished out of Elrond’s bookcase, while Elrond himself was pouring out cups of spiced wine.

For a moment she hesitated, a wave of memory of earlier times almost a year before when she had had similar interviews in this room. Suddenly she felt a momentary twinge of loss for Halbarad… and then wished Halladan were there… and then wished she had not just wished that.

Dammit.

“Come in, Pen-ii, come in!” Erestor was indicating a chair opposite him.

“Yes, come inside and close the door,” Lindir added. “You are letting in a draught.”

“Never let it be said the corridors of Lord Elrond’s halls be draughty,” said Elrond, one eyebrow arched but a hint of amusement in his eye and a smile playing on his lips.

“As if you elves feel the cold anyway,” Penny muttered at Lindir as she crossed past him to her seat. He grinned at her back and there were smiles round the room.

Once they were all settled, Elrond did his best to make Penny feel at ease. He said that he had already had some word as to the nature of what had happened in the north while they were gone, but that Gandalf himself had insisted she not be questioned until after he had left with the hobbits.

“I would trust you consider us all friends now, Pen-ii. There is no requirement upon you to speak, but if it will help you unburden yourself…” He paused. “I will be frank with you, Pen-ii. Galadriel had some foresight regarding Suza which she confided to us. I do not doubt she told you this when she spoke to you as we travelled. It would appear it is, in some way, connected to Saruman, or connected to his final undoing.” He paused once more, watching her with a steady, though not unkindly, gaze. “Perhaps you could tell us what you know?”

And so she told them.

Very quietly and simply and, surprisingly, without any tears. Whether it was because she had already confessed it all before to Halladan, or whether it was the confidence that Galadriel had given her, Penny was not sure. Perhaps it was both. She did not go into too much detail, which helped, merely gave them a vague idea of what the hobbits would find, their rousing the Shire into rebellion and then the killing of Saruman.

She could see the raised eyebrows, could guess at the unspoken question as to why she had kept silent till now and so stumbled on into her confusion and distress in Gondor as to whether to speak, to act or not. All the while Elrond nodded slightly every now and then, occasionally exchanging a glance with Erestor or Lindir as if matters long suspected where now made clear. When she admitted she had told Aragorn enough that he had decided to send the Dunedain north, Elrond merely smiled as if he had known all along.

“And you told Halladan, I take it?”

She hated herself when she felt the flush on her face as she said she had and tried to ignore it and behave as if it was not there.

And still the unspoken question hung in the air. They just waited, letting her get to it in her own time, and eventually it came, the reason why she had felt things had to follow their own path as best she could fathom it: the extent of Saruman’s treachery that would only be later proved and about which she could not reasonably ask people of their stature, justice and wisdom to simply take her word. She spoke of his long searching for The One, about what Aragorn and Gimli would discover in Orthanc itself – the proof that he had long ago found Isildur’s remains though no trace of them would ever be found. She told them of his long jealousy of Gandalf, hesitating momentarily before Glorfindel reassured her that all in the room knew full well who and what both Gandalf and Saruman were in their true forms. Thus she explained that even before they set out from Valinor, Saruman had resented Gandalf’s addition to the group though it seemed now that he was the only one who had remained true to their mission and indeed had succeeded.

“It was because Mithrandir loved Suza so that Saruman first took notice of it. He even set up a trade route for the pipeweed, for though he publicly berated Gandalf for smoking, in private he began to smoke himself. I think… I think Gandalf has long suspected him, long before he was captured by him and imprisoned. It is so long since I last read my books now, so my memory is hazy, but I remember a story of Gandalf, perhaps at a meeting of the White Council, blowing smoke rings seemingly in all innocence and Saruman becoming furious, understanding by it that Gandalf possibly already suspected him of searching for The One though at that time it was still thought irretrievably lost. It is his malice, his hatred of Mithrandir that even now means he has headed straight for Suza when he left us on the road north. It is because of that and that alone that he will do what he can to wreck the place.”

Only then did she have to fight back the tears, swallowing hard and looking sideways momentarily.

“And yet through all this Saruman will be brought down at last and the kuduk will see Maura, Ban, Raz and Kali for the great and noble heroes that they are,” Elrohir interjected gently. She nodded.

The details she had given of Saruman had been something of a revelation. His treachery was no surprise, but the extent of it, that it had been going on for far longer than anyone had suspected, was. Even Penny could feel the subtle change in the atmosphere.

Elrond, his face stony with anger, got to his feet and very calmly walked over to the door that led out onto the gardens, opened it and took a deep, calming breath as he stared out at the night sky.

It was perhaps only Penny who jumped when Elladan suddenly flung his cup hard against the flagstones, so hard that it bounced, glinting in the firelight. As it did so Penny could see it was now dented on one side. For a brief moment Penny could see his expression, orange by the fire’s glow, and knew for the first time she was seeing an elf in something close to full battle fury, his eyes glaring, his mouth open slightly, top lip curling a little. It was still a beautiful face, but terrifying for all that, for the sheer rage and power evident within it. He gaze flicked in Penny’s direction, ostensibly to exchange a glance with his brother who was sitting next to her, and he caught her eye. Immediately the expression softened, though the eyes were still angry.

“Forgive me if I startled you, Pen-ii.”

As Elrohir bent to pick up the cup that had rolled towards him, the air was now pregnant with the unspoken discussion they would all have the moment she left.

Lindir got to his feet, muttering something about seeing what was happening in the Hall of Fire if all had been said that needed to be, and perhaps Pen-ii would like to accompany him. Penny, glad to leave, followed him to the door but then, having a sudden thought, she paused, turned towards Elrond and asked him what news there was of the north. He looked at her, the others in the room raising their eyebrows at her.

“I ask only because… well, as I say I spoke to Aragorn but only told him what will be said to the kuduk when they reach Batti’s inn – that the Rangers have been missed. For years their work was little understood or appreciated, but when they went south…”

She had a sharp vision of Halladan in her head, on horseback, ruffians or worse roaring towards him, blades aloft, and suddenly his eyes glazing over, him going slack or stiff in the saddle just like that time in the camp.

As quickly as it came to her it was gone.

“How do things fare?” And there was a faint catch in her voice that they all heard. “For the Dunedain, I mean. What have they returned to find outside of the borders of Suza? I realise it is not my place to ask, perhaps, but… did many people come up the Greenway, or if not people then…?”

She left the question unfinished. They could sense the anxiety in her clear as daylight.

“What little I have learnt so far, Pen-ii,” Elrond said quietly, “has not been as bad as it might have been.”

What did THAT mean? It hardly seemed reassuring, though she held on to the thought that elves ever did speak in enigmas or riddles, often at the moments you most wanted them to be frank and to the point.

“The Dunedain are capable men, strong, battle-hardened, skilful, and by reputation alone they carve a path before them.” Elladan looked at her with something close to sympathy in his eye. “Do not worry for Halladan.” He smiled. “Or Arvain,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“It is not just that,” Penny replied, her gaze dropping to the floor. There was a long pause. “If anything has happened… if… I know Lady Galadriel reassured me, and truly she did indeed put my heart at ease, especially regarding Suza, but…” She let out a deep, shaky breath and lifted her eyes to Elrond. “I could have told you. Even when last we were here you asked me what else I knew and I stayed silent. All that time I could have… And the Dunedain very nearly did not even return with us, or not all of them as happened in the end.”

Suddenly she felt Lindir pull her into a hug.

“Hey, now. Did you not hear what Elladan just said? They did not all ride south, Pen-ii, and they are more than capable of looking after their own. It is true, perhaps, that things have been a little disrupted from how they were, but matters will soon be put aright. All will be as it should be.”

“You are not responsible, Pen-ii,” Elrond said from across the room. “You never were.”

She looked at him, not wholly convinced but trying to believe him.

“Or certainly no more than anyone else in this room and others,” Lindir added, to the accompaniment of nods from those still seated by the fire. Penny herself joined them, her head moving up and down jerkily and determinedly, as much to try and reassure herself.

“That is better,” Lindir said kindly, grinning and gently propelling her towards the door. “Now then, let us see if we can persuade Bilbo to recite some more of this Gondolin poem of his.”

There was a quiet groan from the direction of Glorfindel as Lindir shut the door behind him along with chuckles at Glorfindel’s expense.

It was no surprise, perhaps, that the moment Penny spotted Mireth in the Hall of Fire but she dragged her off to tell her all about it as well.

“So that is what you meant when you said there was more to come?”

Penny, sitting opposite her at the window seat of Mireth’s room, nodded.

“It has been so hard keeping it to myself, Mireth. So hard.”

Mireth nodded. “Yes. Yes, it can be,” she murmured.

Penny looked at her.

“You are not the only one to have ever carried foresight with them, Pen-ii. I will admit you have carried much and more than most, perhaps, but many of us have had inklings or visions or certainties about what will come to pass. Nor is it just us elves who have such a gift. Many amongst the Dunedain also.”

Penny nodded. “Halbarad knew he would die in the south,” she said quietly.

Mireth said nothing, just leaned towards her and took her hand, and together they looked out into the darkness of the night.

Author’s notes:

‘skint’ – London (now widespread British) slang, meaning having no money. Not in the sense of being poor but in the sense of currently being without – you’ve spent your pay packet/your last fiver.

The reference to fireworks and bonfire in one of London’s parks is because November 5th is, of course, ‘Bonfire Night’ here in the UK, and you will get most local councils providing some sort of firework and bonfire shindig round that time usually the nearest weekend to it, or on the weekends either side of it. Hence there being some sort of display somewhere on the night of the 7th for Penny and her mates to go to late in the evening.

I say Gandalf ‘seemed’ to be the only one who stayed true to the mission of the Istari since the fate of the blue wizards who went to the East is unknown. Certainly they seemed to have played no part in the fall of Sauron (which was the whole purpose of the Istari sailing from the West), but it may be they did good in the East. Or it may be they too fell to darkness and seeking power and dominion, just as Saruman did. Radagast, the old hippy, bless his heart, got entirely distracted by flora and fauna. But better that than evil rings of power.

‘Batti’ is Barliman Butterbur’s first name in Westron. Aside from the hobbits it’s the only other Westron name JRRT gave us: Batti Zilbarapha

As always: many, many thanks to all who continue to read, review and rec this fic. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. - hugs you all -