“Okay, NOW Panic!”

an LOTR fanfic by Boz4PM

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than Penny – someone has to (poor woman) – and also any other OFCs or OMCs that may appear. The rest all belong to JRRT (“The Great Man Whose Boots We Are Not Fit To Lick”). I trust that, as a consequence of this fic, he will merely maintain the gentle rotation he was thrown into by ‘Don’t Panic!’ rather than start on an all-out spin cycle. grin

Author’s Note: This is the sequel to “Don’t Panic!” a fic in which Penelope Baker (a twenty-three year old Tolkien fan who works in marketing) wakes up in her pyjamas a few miles west of Bree and is then faced with all the horrors of what it was REALLY like to live six thousand years ago in Middle- earth (latrines of doom being possibly amongst the worst of them).

She is rescued by Halbarad, dour Ranger of the North, and taken by him to Imladris to see Elrond due to the clear knowledge she has of things she should not know, as well as her bizarre and extreme behaviour as she battles with her own sanity while she slowly comes to the realisation of just where she actually is. Once in Rivendell, arriving only a day or two before the Council of Elrond, she is questioned and, with much difficulty and Gandalf’s help, manages to explain who she is, where she has come from and how she knows of them all and their futures.

She then has to acquire a new language and new skills, and learn to fit in, all the while knowing full well of the impending war, of the death of Boromir and, worse still, the death of Halbarad. He has become her friend and slowly begins to look on her as a daughter, promising himself that he will protect her and look after her once the war is over.

At the end of “Don’t Panic!” despite trying to persuade Elrond not to send Halbarad south to Rohan, Penny watches Halbarad ride out of Imladris, holding the banner of the King that Arwen has made for Aragorn.

She knows that she will never see him again.

Now the story continues...

Note from Nilmandra, site owner: "I invited Boz to post her story 'Don't Panic!' and "Okay, NOW PANIC", which were written in response to a challenge for what might really have happened had a modern day person fallen into Middle-earth. This is the quintessential story for me of the problems such a person would face, and perhaps how Middle-earth would have seen her. Those familiar with our guidelines will know we do not accept this genre of story - I made this exception and asked her to post. Please note that the site guidelines have not changed for existing authors or new submissions."

Warning for this chapter only: since it is a battle scene, there WILL be depictions of violence and bloodshed ahead. Nothing overly graphic but, don’t forget, this is a few thousand warriors hitting each other with very sharp swords... it’s not pretty.

[Edit, Feb 6th 2008: By popular request I have made a Character List for both this and the prequel (Don't Panic). Should you ever need it, you can find it here. :) ]

“‘This is an evil door,’ said Halbarad, ‘and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless;...’” - 'The Passing of the Grey Company,’ The Return of the King.

Even as their ships had neared the northern bank of the Anduin and the quay of Harlond, the Dûnedain had seen the smoke, the carnage, and the horror. Through the gaps in the walls of the shattered Rammas Ecchor, they could make out the northern half of the Pelennor, beyond the battle, already littered with the bodies of the slain, mumakîl carcasses, and burning tents and siege engines. The air was acrid with smoke, death and fear.

Smoke was also rising from various points within the walls of Minas Tirith. The earlier rain had put out the fires in the city but the damage the fires had caused was visible from afar. The siege-engines, the piles of dead outside the walls, the massive gates smashed, splintered and burnt, were clear enough for the keen-sighted amongst those on the boats, even from the river.

The battle was in full swing as they came down the ramps from the ships onto the quayside, many of the men aboard not waiting to disembark but leaping directly onto the stone surface of the quay.

As they hastened towards the great southern gate in the Rammas, Halbarad, bearing the standard aloft for all to see, was riding behind Aragorn. To one side of him rode Elrond’s sons, stars upon their brows and fury in their gaze, while to his other side was Legolas, bow already notched and face grim, with Gimli sitting behind him, axe in hand.

Behind them came Halbarad’s three sons: Halladan, Hirvell and Arvain. They were tall and proud, their faces as stern and dour as their father’s own. They rode with the remaining Dûnedain, most of whom had set out from Rivendell, but several others among them who, like Halbarad’s sons, had joined them further south.

Every one of the Dûnedain was a man of stature, strength, courage and nobility of the quality of Halbarad. It was clear in their faces and bearing, as Theoden King himself had seen and commented upon at Helm’s Deep. Just the sight of them alone had been enough to convince the slaves on the ships to offer themselves, now as free men, to row them all upstream.

As Aragorn, roaring and bearing the reforged sword aloft, swept north from the river the Dûnedain and assembled peoples of Southern Gondor followed in his wake. At the same time Prince Imrahil charged from the west with the Gondorian forces and Eomer King led the Rohirrim from the north.

The enemy, caught suddenly on three sides, barely knew what hit them.

Near half the enemy’s army had already been eliminated by the Rohirric charge led by Theoden King. The subsequent death of the Witchking had left the remaining enemy troops dismayed and uncertain. The sight of Aragorn, tall and terrible, now sweeping down on them like some Valar-sent vengeance, near sent them mad with terror.

They would go down fighting, though.

The sound was indescribably loud: a near-deafening combination of the clang and clash of metal, the trumpeting of mumakîl, the roars and shouts of orcs and men, the screams of the wounded and dying, the maimed and the mauled.

There was no time to think, only react instinctively. Falter for an instant and your life was over, cleaved from you by the savage blow of axe, sword or spear.

Halladan, Halbarad’s eldest son, became separated from his father in the melee after a few hours. Up till then the Dûnedain had managed to stay relatively near to each other, carving a path through the Southrons and Easterlings that made up the large part of the remaining enemy army. As standard-bearer, Halbarad stayed close to Aragorn, with his sons staying close beside him to protect both king and standard-bearer at all costs.

Then a mûmak, maddened by pain and fear, had run amok nearby, scattering those in its path and crushing underfoot many who were not quick enough. Halladan was forced to dodge the animal, even while keeping his horse under control, while his father and brothers veered their steeds the other way. Thickset, bearded Easterlings with axes, scarlet-clad Haradrim and more orcs than he had ever seen in his life before then surrounded Halladan and those with him. He spent the next hour or two of the battle trying to hack his way back towards the standard, still born aloft one-handed by his father.

Looking up at one point, though unable to see Halbarad, he could make out the standard blowing in the south-westerly breeze as the battle raged round it. Then, just for an instant, the fighting cleared and he could see the long pole, as tall as a spear, being held by his father astride his horse as he cut down his enemies who surrounded him time and again, a group of stout-hearted warriors around him – some still on horseback, others now on foot. Bodies covered the area in front of them: friend and foe alike.

Unlike many others, Halladan managed to keep his horse and was riding across the bodies of his enemies as he fought. The animal’s legs were caked in their blood. He had managed to keep a small company of five or so Dûnedain with him, and together they were fighting their way back towards where they could see Aragorn with Halbarad nearby him. The Star of Isildur flashed in the sun upon Aragorn’s brow, but Anduril burned even brighter in his hand as he gave the enemy no quarter.

As Halladan and those with him made their way, besides negotiating the flashing, slicing steel around them, there was also the ever-present danger in the battle-field of the mumakîl which would terrify the horses and, when wounded, run berserk, crushing anyone or anything in their path. Still worse were the burning remains of siege engines or tents that could topple over without warning, catching many beneath their flames. There were also the burning remains of barns and houses that were equally liable to sudden collapse. The heat and stench of smoke and blood filled the nostrils till it was all Halladan could do to keep his head from reeling.

Suddenly, Halladan met Aragorn on the field, the man looking more proud and noble than Halladan could ever remember seeing him. Yet they barely had time to acknowledge each other’s presence before a great rush of half-trolls and Variags came towards Aragorn.

With a cry of “Dûnedain! To the Heir of Isildur!” Halladan wheeled his horse to place himself between Aragorn and the onslaught, hacking and hewing heads off as the enemy reached him. Aragorn moved beside him, Anduril slashing and biting without mercy, and quickly others joined them both.

In the chaos Halladan was dimly aware of a tall, dark-haired figure standing on the ground beside him, unhorsed, but by the grace of the Valar unharmed: his youngest brother, Arvain.

Arvain risked a grin up at him. Halladan reached out his hand to pull him up into the saddle.

“No, brother,” Arvain shouted. “You will have more manoeuvrability with only one rider. Besides,” he added, as he ducked a swipe from an Easterling axe, thrusting his sword swiftly into his attacker’s stomach from below, “I’m doing well enough down here, I think.”

He grinned once more and then, with a roar, launched himself at a group of orc that were aiming for Aragorn.

Halladan shook his head with a grin, but had no time to respond before he heard the shout of a horsed Variag warrior galloping toward him from behind. He turned in time to raise his arm and block the blow whistling towards his head from the man’s sword before twisting the blade from the man’s grasp and cutting him limb from limb in his own saddle.

He made his way towards his father then, beset on all sides by Haradrim, Variags, Easterlings and half-trolls. As Halladan neatly dispatched enough of them to make a path to his father’s side, Halbarad looked up and smiled, grimly.

“Decided to join us at last, I see,” his father commented dryly.

Halladan grinned broadly, and the two fell to fighting once more, side by side.

Then it happened.

Halladan and Arvain were fighting close together beside Halbarad, with Hirvell, their third brother, only a little way off, fighting beside Aragorn. Because the standard bearer in any battle was a key target for the enemy, his sons and others had surrounded Halbarad from the beginning, though he was more than skilful enough to fight one-handed.

Many soldiers and orcs had fallen on Halbarad’s blade before the enemy realised the only way to bring this standard bearer down was to attack his horse. At their first opportunity, blades no longer sought to strike the legs of Halbarad but that of his steed - and they succeeded. Halbarad’s horse was cut down from underneath him. Hamstrung, the animal fell, crushing one of Halbarad’s legs beneath its weight. Before Halbarad hit the ground, a Haradrim managed to push past to hew at him as he fell.

Arvain had heard the horse’s scream next to him, but had been busy fending off a particularly large Easterling who clearly knew how to use an axe to good effect, and so could not turn. He knew it was bad, though.

Cleaving off the man’s head, he turned in time to see Halladan already jumping from his horse to hew the Haradrim to pieces. His father lay, gasping, blood spilling onto the ground around him, one leg trapped underneath his screaming horse.

Even as Halladan picked up the standard, he blocked blow after blow round him. The seven or eight Dûnedain near them quickly formed a circle round him and the fallen Ranger. Arvain ran to them now, his face showing his distress.

“Take this and my horse,” Halladan was saying, shoving the standard at him.

“No, I will not leave you!” Arvain shouted.

Halladan flashed him a furious glare, and for a moment Arvain saw his father’s expression in his brother’s face.

“Do not argue, Arvain, there is no time. Take it. It must be kept high where our men can see it. They must not think the standard has fallen. Do this for Aragorn... for your father.”

Still Arvain hesitated. “And you?”

Halladan looked at him. “I will stay here.”

There was a cry from their father, and Halladan quickly bent to him. As he did so he shouted over his shoulder to Arvain, “Go! Now! Do not delay!”

Arvain nodded, quickly mounting Halladan’s horse, the standard in his hand, and bore it aloft. Immediately he was surrounded by Dûnedain, just as his father had been, as the enemy surged towards him.

Halladan fought to defend his father’s body, not knowing if he were still alive or dead, nor having the time to check. The orcs were not the only ones among the enemy with no respect for the dead or dying. Many on the battle-field would not be recognisable to those who once loved them when the battle finally ended.

Halladan lost count of the number he slew. However, he was not left to defend his father alone. Arvain stayed nearby as best he could, and the Dûnedain also helped to protect Halbarad also. The affection the Dûnedain bore Halbarad, as one who was great and noble among a great and noble people, was such that they would have laid down their lives to see that, even if he were already dead, his body was not desecrated.

At last, in the blood-red glow of the setting sun, it was finished. The enemy were routed with the last few of them running to drown or to die of their wounds.

Only now could Hirvell, Halbarad’s middle son, find the time to dismount his horse and use the back of an Easterling corpse upon which to wipe clean his sword before the blood caked on it ate into the blade. He had managed to stay close to his father or Aragorn through most of the battle and had only become separated from them only at the last.

He was exhausted, and looking at those round him, knew they were no less weary than he. It had been a hard, long fight, but they had overcome the hordes at last. The euphoria he felt, despite his exhaustion, was huge. Yet he could not smile, nor could any of those with him. For now, as the noise of war abated and the last cries of fighting died out towards the river, the air was filled with groans and faint screams.

Smoke drifted across the gloom. The last few burning buildings collapsed in on themselves with roars and creaking groans, sending sparks far up into the thickening dusk. Already Hirvell could see those who had survived the fight moving among the dead, weeping over those they knew or bringing succour and aid to those who might yet survive their injuries.

Torches were visible now outside Minas Tirith as those in the city came out to help bring the injured back within the walls to be healed, or else make their last hours as comfortable as might be possible. Yet Hirvell knew, with night fast approaching, that many wounded would be missed in the dark and left to die alone and uncared-for.

He remounted his horse and turned it, looking for the king’s standard once more. At last he saw it and made his way towards it. As he neared, though, he could make out his younger brother bearing it now, not his father. He could see Arvain was in urgent discussion with Aragorn, could see him pointing to a spot on the ground nearby, Aragorn looking concerned suddenly, dismounting quickly to hurry to the spot.

His heart in his throat, Hirvell spurred his horse to a gallop, weaving and dodging the fallen and the wounded, leaping over great piles of corpses, burning embers of engines and the head of a mûmak to reach them. As he finally approached his brother, he leapt from the saddle.

“What is it, Arvain?” he said, the concern clear in his voice.

Arvain shook his head. His face was pale with grief. Hirvell now feared the worst.

He walked slowly over to the circle of seven or so Dûnedain, standing silently now round whatever it was Hirvell had seen Arvain indicate to Aragorn. As he neared, the tall, hard-faced warriors moved aside for him. What he saw meant he was not even aware of Arvain by his side handing the standard to someone else to hold.

All he could focus on was the pale figure on the ground, his dead horse lying nearby, having rolled off his leg at last in its death throes. Halladan was crouched beside the figure, his father’s hand in his and his arm underneath his back so he was near enough holding Halbarad in his arms.

Aragorn was standing beside them, his face taut with his distress. As Hirvell neared them, his shock written on his face, Aragorn looked up.

Hirvell did not need to ask. The look on Aragorn’s face said everything.

Halbarad was still alive, but mortally wounded. Even though Hirvell could not see the wound, the amount of blood around his father, even on Halladan as he held him, told him all he needed to know.

Halbarad was dying.

Arvain’s cheeks were wet with tears as Hirvell crouched on the other side of Halbarad, his face set and hard as he struggled to control his emotions.

Halbarad, pale and breathing shallowly and with difficulty, was trying to speak despite Halladan’s insistence that he should not. He did not even see Hirvell, so intent was he on speaking to his eldest son.

“You... you have made me proud this day... All three of you,” he gasped. “I have always been proud of you... Your mother also... You have grown to be fine men... proud Dûnedain and noble...”

“Please, father, do not try...”

“Nonsense... if not now, then when, Halladan?... You had proved yourselves worthy... before this... but now you are men... great men, indeed... Elbereth smiles on you.”

He stopped, struggling to fill his lungs with the air he needed to continue.

Halladan exchanged a glance with Hirvell opposite him and then with Arvain standing nearby. Arvain’s distress was clear on his face, while Hirvell was pale with rage and grief, his eyes blazing.

“I must,” Halbarad wheezed. “I must... ask you to do something...”

Halladan turned to him once more. Halbarad had to catch his breath and gain his strength with near every phrase he said. His voice was so quiet that Hirvell, on the other side of him, could now no longer hear him.

“Halladan... you remember I told you... of Lady Pen-ii... the woman I found... I told you her story...”

“Yes, father,” Halladan said quietly, his eyes filled with tears.

“Tell her... tell her Lord Elrond told me... he told me everything...”

His voice was failing and Halladan had to bend closer to hear him.

“This... this is not her fault... I knew... It was my choice... she must not blame herself...”

Halladan nodded, unable to speak. His father had told all three of them about Penny, but had spoken about her most to Halladan. It cut Halladan deeply to now hear his father had known for certain that he faced his death in journeying south.

“Will... you tell her?”

“I will,” Halladan managed to gasp out at last in a near sob, his throat tight as he struggled to contain himself.

“Promise me, Halladan... I need you... to promise me that...”

Halbarad’s breathing was slowing, coming more difficultly with each rise and fall of his chest. His voice was cracking, quietening. Halladan knew his father was slipping away from him.

“What, father? What would you have me promise?”

“Promise me... that you will... look after her... as I told you I would...”

There was again a lengthy pause while Halbarad struggled to find the strength within him to continue speaking.

“Fulfill... my duty... by her... for me.”

“I will. I promise.”

There was a faint smile on Halbarad’s lips, even a vague nod.

“Good... It is well... She is alone... she needs...”

Suddenly he gasped and coughed, and a trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was now a mere faint rasp.

“Pain... is easing...”

Halladan gave him a weak smile. He glanced up once more to catch his brothers’ eyes and saw Arvain kneeling now, weeping openly; and while Hirvell’s face was still hard, his cheeks were wet with tears.

Halladan felt the grip on his hand increase a little.

“I have... missed... your mother...” Halbarad whispered, a smile on his face. “Now I will... see her once more... that pleases me.”

Another spasm shook his body as he murmured with a gasp, “Elbereth Gilthoni...”

And then, with a long, low sigh, Halbarad, Dûnedan of the North, died.

Halladan, still holding Halbarad in his arms, wept.

‘Hamstringing’, for those of you who don’t know, is a particularly unpleasant activity, which involves cutting the hamstring tendon behind the knee. Apart from meaning you're crippled, invariably the main artery behind the knee tends to get sliced open in the process which is why duellers used to wear pads behind their knees sometimes.

Blood does indeed rust a sword – they would have had to be kept meticulously clean, and even then rust spots would develop over time. It's because of the proteins in the blood. Tissue will do the same thing. It's why surgery nurses and such get so paranoid about cleaning instruments, besides the contamination factor.

For what it is worth, I had already decided that Elrond told Halbarad even when I was writing the last chapter of “Don’t Panic!”. It was only later that I was reminded that Halbarad in fact foretold of his own death in front of the door to the Paths of the Dead (thanks, MumstheWord). So this is no longer pure poetic licence, I would argue. Penny did not tell Elrond when Halbarad would die – which battle – and so Halbarad did not know, only that he would not return to the North

Chapter 2 - “Living in the Past”

Just for a change, Penny was panicking.

Well, actually, to be more accurate she was flapping.

Less than an hour before she had been formally invited by Lord Elrond to accompany him and most of the residents of Imladris when they left for Minas Tirith in a week’s time. She had sat in his study blinking at him like an owl for a moment. Her mouth opened, then closed.

He had to bloody joking, didn’t he!

“Pen-ii?” Elrond had asked, a slightly amused expression on his face.

“I... I thank you, Lord Elrond. Truly.”

Penny flushed a little. She had known that nearly everyone in Imladris was going to be going, but had not been entirely certain if that included her or not, though quite what else she would have done were she not to go with them all to Minas Tirith she had not been exactly sure. She had felt to shy to ask anyone, though. Now it seemed that it did include her, but she still felt this was a great honour and one she felt she really did not deserve.

She said as much.

“Do not forget there will be a long, hard journey ahead of us, also,” Elrond had said, a soft smile on his face and a slightly mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You may not consider it such an honour after three weeks in the saddle. Besides, you know that all Imladris will be coming, I am sure. We thought it as well to let you know that we wished you to join us.”

So that was that and now she was flapping. Big time. She was going to THE wedding of the Age and she had nothing to wear. Not that she knew what one wore to the marriage of the Last of the Numenorean Kings and the only daughter of Gil-galad’s right-hand man (or should that be ‘right-hand elf’?), but whatever it was she was pretty sure she did not have it.

She was now rifling through her six dresses, assessing them all. There was one that she had not worn that often, if only because she liked it most. It was pale green with a little lace on the cuffs and neck. That one, then, would have to do.

“Oh, Pen-ii! I am so glad you will be coming with us all. I had thought you would be, but you had not said anything.” Mireth was positively bouncing on the bed in Penny’s chambers.

Penny shook her head, still not quite believing it. “Well, it will be good practice, I suppose, for next year,” she grinned at Mireth.

Eleniel giggled. “Well, yes, we are all looking forward to that, Mireth.”

Mireth flushed a little and fiddled with the silver ring she now wore. She and Celebdor had finally got betrothed a few weeks after the war was over. They had held off before then, thinking it inappropriate to do otherwise while so much else of far greater importance was going on.

And there had, indeed, been more important things happening.

The day after Halbarad left Penny told Elrond everything. There was a lot to tell and it took most of the day. Elrond related some of it to Erestor, Glorfindel and Arwen, and though not all it was enough that they knew of the major events. Glorfindel, Erestor and Elrond then questioned her closely about the happenings in the north, and she was forced to admit she knew very little.

“Lothlorien will be attacked from Dol Guldur. More than once, I think. Afterwards Celeborn destroys Dol Guldur.” She did not know the Sindarin or Westron for Mirkwood or Dale, so showed them on maps where else she knew of there being battles.

“And here?” Glorfindel asked her. “What of Imladris?”

She shook her head. “I do not know, Lord Glorfindel. Forgive me. Nothing is said of it. I do know that Mithrandir thought that if Smaug were alive Imladris would be attacked. Now Smaug is dead it may be there will be no attack – only on the east side of the mountains maybe. I do not know.”

The three nodded, their faces serious.

“No matter, Pen-ii,” Elrond reassured her. “We knew not to rely on you. I thank you, you may go.” She left them to discuss the details of the defence of the realm.

Within the weeks following the Dunedain’s departure, Imladris gradually emptied of most of the ellyn. After weeks of busy work sharpening swords and forging arrowheads, the craft huts and workshops now fell silent. Penny’s riding lessons ceased as Lindir went to the borders and a few days later Celebdor joined him.

Mireth became very quiet after that. Though she reassured Penny and Eleniel she was quite all right, they knew she was worrying about him.

“He’s a very capable warrior, Mireth,” Eleniel said to her. “You know that as well as I. He always does well in the hunts and the archery competitions. He can look after himself well enough. They all can. Any orcs that try anything will not have time to regret their foolishness.”

Mireth nodded and smiled weakly. Penny merely felt her nerves grip her, in spite of the victory she knew was to come. The reality of it all was hitting home to her. She had never been in such a situation where there was a very real possibility of ambush or attack.

“Will your father’s ring not help? To protect Imladris?” she asked Arwen when they were alone one day.

“It will indeed, but if they come with enough strength, they may break through. We cannot afford to rely on that alone. They do not do so in Lothlorien, nor do we here.”

Penny nodded and fell silent.

As did Imladris, it seemed, as everyone waited for a possible attack.

Lord Elrond stayed, of course, but much of his time seemed to be spent with Erestor in discussion. Occasionally someone would come back from the border with a report. Penny noticed that Elrond’s expression became grimmer each time she was aware of one of these ellyn arriving and leaving again almost as swiftly. She began to fear Imladris was going to be attacked after all.

All the while, of course, her thoughts were with the Fellowship, how they were faring, where they were and what they might be doing. She thought too of Halbarad, now riding south with his sons, and she wished him well, wished him a noble death if there was such a thing. She grieved for him, even though she knew he was not yet dead. She was furious for herself for doing it, and yet her knowledge that she would not see him again, that he would die, overwhelmed her sure knowledge that he was still alive. She found comfort in what both he and Lord Elrond had said to her before he had left. It meant she was better able to cope for the first few days after his departure, but she still wept at night, alone in her chambers. They were tears of frustration and helplessness as well as sorrow at his passing.

She considered trying to talk to Lady Arwen about it, but rejected that idea if only because the whole subject of mortality and how elves might view it would clearly be sensitive for her. She also chose not to speak to Elrond and for similar reasons. In the end she broached the subject with Erestor.

It had been just over two weeks after Halbarad had left, at the end of her daily lesson.

“I am very pleased, Pen-ii. You have come on remarkably. To tell you the truth, when we first started I thought it would be a much slower task, but you have proved me wrong. You have worked hard and it shows. You have done very well.”

“I thank you, Lord Erestor. I would not have been able to learn so much without you pushing me. And everyone else also. Mireth, Eleniel, Celebdor and Lindir never stop testing me. Bilba too.”

“Ah, yes. Well, we have Maura to thank for Bilba’s diligence. He started the Breakfast Sindarin Tests, did he not?” Erestor grinned.

“Yes, indeed.” Penny fell silent for a moment while she gathered together her papers and books. “Erestor?”

“Yes, Pen-ii?” He looked up from wiping clean the little blackboard. “What is it?”

“Can I ask you something? Not about language?”

“But of course.” He looked at her more closely and realised this was something serious. “Come. Sit.” He indicated two comfortable chairs near the doorway that opened out onto the gardens.

“I do not want to upset you.” She couldn’t think of the word for ‘offend.’ “It is about humans and elves. About death.”

Erestor seemed a little surprised. He had not expected that. “Umm... I see... ahh. Well, what did you want to ask?”

“I do not know, in truth. It’s just... I cannot talk to Lady Arwen or Lord Elrond about this.”

“And why not?” Erestor raised an eyebrow.

Penny looked a little surprised. “Because of Aragorn and Lady Arwen’s choice.”

Erestor regarded her for a moment. “Lady Pen-ii, you must understand that choice was made some time ago. You will not offend either of them if you ask them about mortality, in general terms, at least. I understand, though, that you were trying to be polite and not upset them. You need not have feared, I do not think. Perhaps, though, it is as well you chose to speak to me. What did you want to know?”

“Lord Elrond spoke a little of it before...” She faltered and then continued quietly, “Before Halbarad left.”

Erestor nodded but said nothing.

“How do you bear it? How do you behave when you know that someone will die? Forgive me; I am not phrasing this well. I hope you understand me.”

“I do indeed, Pen-ii. It is something all the Eldar must get used to, even without foreknowledge.” Erestor shifted forward in his seat a little and looked at her kindly. “It is never easy. The pain does not get less with every friend you lose. Yet it is also the way of things. It always has been with the Second Born. That the First Born do not age and die while the Second Born do is Eru’s Will. He knows best what is best for us. There is much comfort in that knowledge.”

Penny nodded. That was something she had only recently been able to start thinking about and get her head round: that if all this was real, then so was Valinor, so were Maia and Valar... and so, therefore, was Eru Illuvatar. For someone who had never been terribly religious, that was a very strange notion. Erestor was right, though, it was surprisingly comforting.

“I feel bad because I am behaving as if Halbarad is dead now.” Erestor could see she was having difficulty saying this, that her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I know he is alive, yet I know I will... I will not see him... again. Is that wrong?”

“There is no right or wrong way to react, Pen-ii. You have to cope as best you can. It is hard for you: you are not used to this. We elves see it in you mortals every time we look at you. That might be difficult for you to understand, but it is there nonetheless. Do not forget we can die also. There may be friends of mine, dear elves I have known centuries, who may fall in Lothlorien or by Thranduil’s side before all this is over. Perhaps even here in Imladris if we are attacked: friends of us both are at the borders of this realm.”

Penny nodded. “Forgive me, Erestor. Of course this is harder for you all than for me.”

“No, Pen-ii. Not at all. I am sorry I cannot give you any comfort more than that you have to learn to accept. Halbarad went south in the knowledge that he went to war and what that might mean. So did every male who went with him, including Elrond’s own sons. So did every male whom you have seen leave in recent days, such as Lindir or Celebdor. There may come a day soon when Lord Elrond and myself will join them. We will both do so willingly, no matter the outcome.”

Penny looked at him for a moment, his kind grey eyes watching her, his dark hair flowing past his shoulders and shining slightly in the mid-morning sun coming through the double doors. She gave him a faint smile and nodded.

“I thank you, Erestor,” she murmured. “It is so strange for me, so different. I am not used to war or soldiers. Even in my time this would be strange.”

“I realise, Pen-ii,” he replied quietly. “You are welcome to talk to me any time. I know it is hard for you, and not simply because of the knowledge you possess. It helps a little, I think, to have told us what you know, has it not?”

“Very much.”

“We thought it would,” Erestor smiled. “We were concerned at one point that you would say nothing at all. You would not have had the strength for that, Pen-ii, not given the amount and detail of your knowledge. I say that even as one who has not been told nearly half of what you recounted to Lord Elrond. It was the right thing to do, as Mithrandir himself advised you.”

Penny nodded and they fell silent for a moment.

“I can’t stop thinking about them, about Halbarad and about them all.”

“That is to be expected. All our thoughts are with them. With Maura in particular. In that you are not alone, Pen-ii.”

That was true enough. She knew Bilbo was thinking of Frodo constantly.

Bilbo and Penny had maintained their daily tea ritual, much to the amusement of the elves of Imladris who clearly considered tea a revolting beverage. Bilbo would make a pot for them to share every morning for breakfast, while at four every day Penny would bring a freshly made pot and a pile of cakes to Bilbo in a small antechamber, just as the hobbits had asked her to do before they left.

Erestor would join them nearly every day if he could, but others would come also. Mireth and Eleniel would often make an appearance, and Bilbo was always particularly pleased to see them if Eleniel brought one of her freshly made honeyed seed cakes with her.

Erestor and Bilbo had also kept up their attempt to introduce Penny to various classic elvish works by reading to her over afternoon tea. She had now, at last, begun to understand bits and to respond and comment, showing she was able to follow the story or what was being said. This meant that, at last, she was able to go over some of the ancient tales with them both, and with Lord Elrond at other times, and so provide herself, and them, with a pleasant enough distraction from their thoughts and worries for an hour or so.

It all meant that she and Bilbo had become quite close. They looked out for each other. Not that Bilbo needed looking out for, by any means. He had told Penny as much if he felt she started fussing.

“I know that, Bilba, but I promised Kali I would keep an eye on you. Though, I actually think he asked me so you would look after me, not the other way around.”

“Well, yes, if truth be told. You are an intelligent young woman, Lady Pen- ii, and I know you realise they were a little worried you would miss them once they were gone.”

“And you do not?”

“Of course I miss them. But I had already left them once in Sûza and, if truth be told, I had not expected to see them all again. Maura, perhaps, but not the others.” A warm smile had spread across his face. “I do miss Sûza sometimes. Not every kuduk that lives there, I will admit,” he chuckled. “But I miss the rolling greens and my little house. Only for a moment, mind.” He wagged a finger at her. “Only for a moment. If I had my choice (and I do) I would plump for Imladris every time. It is delightful here, and there is nothing to beat the company of elves. Nothing other than a few select kuduk with some fine ale and a pipe, mind you, but you can’t have everything.” He grinned.

He put a brave face on it, but she knew he was often thinking about Maura, worrying that he was safe. Of an evening they would sometimes play draughts together and, if she were a little late in getting to him in the chamber where they played in front of the fire, she would sometimes find him out on a balcony staring southeast, in the direction of Mordor. She would cough discreetly or make some noise on entering so as to notify him of her presence and he would turn, smiling at her affably enough. Yet she could see the tension in his jaw, the slight tightening of skin round his eyes.

“He will be fine, Bilba,” she would murmur at such times. “You must not worry.”

“I know, I know. He is a strong kuduk, that one. But then, as my relation, I would expect him to be.”

He would smile at her.

Then proceed to beat her soundly at draughts. Every time. Without fail.

As March progressed, a palpable tension developed in the air. With most of the males gone, it was now only females working in the kitchens and stables. The garden was entirely under Mireth’s supervision, and she had little time for anything else since, it being early spring, there was much to be done. Penny helped her as much as she could.

Then, at about the same time as the attacks on Lothlorien, as far as Penny could judge, there were attacks on Imladris. Not that Penny was aware of them when they actually happened: in the halls they heard nothing, nor saw one single orc. There were minor skirmishes on the borders, though. Mainly wolves, apparently, and orcs with a few wild-looking men and, while not nearly in anything like the numbers faced on the other side of the mountains, it was enough to keep things busy every now and then. Riders came back bearing the wounded if the injury was more than could be dealt with on the border, and one elf was killed.

Penny felt more useless than she ever had in her life. At Mireth’s direction she cut various herbs and plants from the gardens for poultices and dressings within a few minutes of the first rider coming back with an ellon behind him, an arrow wound to his upper arm and a nasty gash on his thigh. Lord Elrond, of course, supervised the healing of the wounded, but Penny witnessed little of it.
She did, however, see the dead elf before he was buried. He was laid out in a small basement chamber, candles round his body. Mireth and Eleniel took Penny to pay her respects. She presumed that it would be, at most, perhaps someone whose face she might recognise. She was shocked, however, when she saw she did indeed know him.

It was the first ellon she had met at Imladris: the one who had greeted her and Halbarad before they had crossed the river so many months before. They had spoken little since then, but always greeted each other, and he had been most courteous in his manner with her. She had got the impression he was quite a good friend of Lindir’s since whenever he was back from patrol for a few days he invariably sat with Lindir at mealtimes. She even knew his name: Narion.

The expressions on the faces of the elves around her spoke volumes. Death was so much more shocking for them when it was one of their own. Penny could not have put into words the sorrow and distress she could feel from them all. That night the place was filled with lamentations and sad songs as they buried him.

Those males who had stayed at the halls now wandered round Imladris fully armed at all times, including Erestor and Elrond, just to be on the safe side. In the event, there was nothing more than those few sporadic scuffles on the borders, and there was no full-scale attack on Rivendell. Afterwards Glorfindel admitted to Penny that it might have been very different if Dale and Mirkwood had fallen and been overrun.

“They would have come over the mountains then, even if they were still battling in Lothlorien.”

Penny remembered what she had read of Gandalf’s reasoning regarding Smaug and knew Glorfindel was probably right.

Then, in mid-March, she was in the kitchen gardens weeding when there was a cry from one of the elleth working nearby. She looked up to see the elleth shielding her eyes, staring up into the sky. Penny looked skyward herself but could see nothing at first. Then, as Mireth came over to her, her own gaze turned upwards also now, Penny saw it: a speck, like a distant bird, wheeling in the sky.

“You see them?” Mireth had asked her.

“Them? There is more than one?”

“There are many. The great eagles. It is rare to see so many flying at once.”

Penny squinted. She could not see many, only two more, so presumed most were out of her range of sight. The few she could see were flying southeast, though. It could only mean one thing.

She had begun running, then. Fast.

She had no idea why, but she felt she needed to tell Elrond, or at least Erestor. She came first to Erestor’s study and found it empty, so she hared down the corridors to Elrond’s chambers.

Before she reached them she felt it: a faint tremor. It was not an earthquake - nothing had shaken or fallen or broken. She had not even stumbled as she ran. Yet there was a definite faint rumbling in the stone beneath her feet.

She skidded to a halt, knowing what it had to mean. She was astonished it could be felt this far north.

It was over.

She had lost track, in the end, of what happened when. She had known it all happened in the first half of March but, as much as she had wracked her brains, she had not been able to remember the exact dates. It had meant she could not remember the exact day of the Battle of the Pelennor, and so when Halbarad died. Now she knew for certain he was gone. If the eagles were flying, if she had just felt the collapse of Barad-dûr and Sauron’s fall, then he would have died several days before.

She slid to the floor and wept.

She heard a door open further down the corridor but did not look up. She did not, of course, hear the elf approach her but a familiar voice said her name softly. Erestor crouched beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Pen-ii, what is it?”

She just shook her head.

“It is over, Pen-ii. We can feel it. Like a great cloud has been lifted from us. Lord Elrond has felt it very strongly.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wet. “I know. I saw the eagles. I came to tell you and then I felt it. I... it means... I could not remember the dates, Erestor. I did not know when... Halbarad...”

Erestor held her as she wept softly. She wept for Halbarad, though she had grieved much for him already and had come to terms with his loss in large part. She wept for all that she knew for certain had transpired, what everyone had gone through. She also, though it was selfish perhaps, wept with relief. She no longer had to carry this huge weight on herself any longer.

There was the scouring of the Shire still, of course, but the hobbits would prove their status and worth amongst their own in dealing with that. It would not be nearly so difficult knowing of that and saying nothing.

The ellyn did not return from the borders for several days since they were doing what they could to hunt down the last of any orc or wolves within a few miles of their borders.

When they did return, they came in a large group and bearing several deer, so there was a huge feast that night. Penny sat with Lindir, Mireth, Eleniel and Celebdor and thoroughly enjoyed herself. Arwen commented to her father that she looked more relaxed and unburdened than they had possibly ever seen her. She was glad to see it.

Afterwards, the evening being mild enough, there was singing and dancing in a clearing in the gardens rather than in one of the larger rooms in the halls. Penny steadfastly ignored Mireth’s pleas for her to join in, shaking her head furiously. While the pace had been relatively slow for many of the dance tunes, and the footwork not complex by any means, one had to know when to turn, when to move and in which direction. Besides, every elf there had, of course, the poise and elegance of a ballet dancer. She would not have the faintest idea of what to do and would have the grace of a walrus.

If she tried it, she would make a complete fool of herself. No bloody way was she dancing.

“Right, that’s it!” A voice next to her startled her from her thoughts. “This next one is very easy, and you have to learn sometime. Come on!”

Lindir ignored her protests and dragged her, struggling against his hold on her wrist, into the middle of the clearing.

“Lindir, please...” she hissed, glancing around her nervously, convinced every elf in the place was now sniggering at her expense. She could feel she was already flushing with embarrassment and the dance had not even started yet.

“No use, Pen-ii,” he grinned at her. “My mind is set. You will learn this if it kills me. Considering how hopeless you were with a horse when I first met you and can ride with a little skill these days, I think I can guide you through your first elvish dance tune. Just follow me.”

She had no time to respond as he manhandled her to face opposite him, holding her right hand in his, before the music started.

In the event it was an easy dance. It was slow and graceful, without any of the complicated criss-crossing, multiple turns and partner-swaps some of the others had entailed. She did manage to look hesitant and as stiff as a board at the beginning, keeping her eyes fixed on Lindir’s movements in near terror as she tried to copy or mirror him. Since most of it seemed to involve walking arm and arm with him in a circle, the two of them turning round each other, or touching hands briefly to part once more, she got the hang of it quickly enough. By the end she was actually enjoying it.

Lindir looked quite smug as he led her back to the little bench where Mireth and Celebdor sat.

“See? Told you I could get her to do it,” he grinned at Mireth.

“Well, you certainly had more luck persuading her than I,” laughed Mireth.

“Persuading? He dragged me. I had no choice,” spluttered Penny.

“Are you complaining, young lady?” Lindir raised an eyebrow at her.

“No. I thank you, Lindir. Really.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth, “And no, I will not dance another one. That was enough, I think.”

They shook their heads at her, laughing. In the event, after plying her with a couple of glasses of strong wine, Lindir did manage to drag her off for two more dances, but even then it was a battle. The two had become good friends since the ‘River Incident’ and, since her language skills had improved, both had found they had a similar sense of humour.

Many of the elves in Rivendell were courteous towards Penny, but showed little inclination to get to know her better other than those she saw most on a daily basis. Elrond and Arwen had been very kind and supportive, were always there if she needed them, but were still the Lord of Imladris and his daughter, and as often as she had spoken to them, she still kept a sense of formality with them on some level. Glorfindel she had barely seen since he was nearly always on patrol or guarding the borders, but he always had a smile and a few words for her when they met. Erestor had become a friend, particularly since she was better able to communicate, but of a very different kind to Mireth, Eleniel, Celebdor and Lindir who were the four she had really got closest to.

With some amusement, Penny watched as Erestor danced with Arwen, as Elrond even joined in several times. Glorfindel was terribly elegant and seemed to enjoy the more vigorous dances in particular. He was positively grinning as he whirled an elleth on his arm on occasion.

At last she felt that it was late, and she was a little drunk, and she had better leave before Lindir convinced her to do something really daft like attempt some hopelessly complicated dance, or else persuade her to sing.

He had been desperately pushing her to sing a native song from her ‘home country’ for weeks, and she had managed to resist so far, claiming not to remember any or to have a dreadful singing voice.

“Worse than a hound,” she had grinned at him. Lindir had laughed loudly.

No song she knew would be suitable for elvish ears, if only because most pop songs would be considered deeply bizarre in wording, tune, rhythm or all three. The only thing she knew that was even vaguely like a ‘folk song’ was ‘On Ilkley Moor Bar Tat,’ and she really didn’t think that would be appropriate. Likely enough Erestor would be able to translate some of it, given how much English he had now learnt from her. Meeting lovers in the open air, dying and then being eaten by things was not likely to be considered amusing in the least.

No, she was leaving now. Lindir caught her, though.

“Off so soon?”

“Soon?” she laughed. “Others have already left. It is late, I am tired, and I have drunk too much wine.”

“One can never have too much wine,” Lindir grinned.

“You need me to remind you? A river bank? Naked?”

Lindir narrowed his eyes and flushed a little. Penny snickered.

“’Night, Lindir.”

He grinned after her, shaking his head.

In the month or so since the feast, life had fallen into an easy routine. The gardens were blossoming and, while Penny no longer had a Sindarin lesson every day, Erestor now had her practising her reading by getting her to read out loud selected passages from the Lays and Tales lining his bookshelves. She had discovered that, while only relatively good at pot throwing, she was better at decorating them. She could not achieve the level of intricacy, delicacy and detail that typified the elvish style, but her simple yet colourful designs both intrigued and delighted the potters. They assured her that they would sell very well and that they would make sure she earned from any that sold at the Bree market or elsewhere.

She had started feeling quite at home in Rivendell. Now, though, as she held up the green dress to herself with Mireth and Eleniel nodding their approval at her, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach.

She would see Lothlorien, Galadriel, Rohan, Minas Tirith. She would... she would SEE the mountains of Mordor, the ruins of Osgiliath... God, she would ride across the Pelennor itself!

Penny’s head reeled.

Now that she thought about it, she was not sure if she was looking forward to this.

Just a reminder: Maura, Sûza, Bilba, Kali & kuduk are the Westron for Frodo, the Shire, Bilbo, Merry & hobbit(s) respectively.

There was no record of an attack on Imladris, which is why I have made it only mild skirmishes on the border and nothing more. The entire area was filled with wolves, and Bree was on high alert when the hobbits returned there after the war due to the things wandering abroad and the bad men in the area – loads coming from Isengard, don’t forget - as well as the fact that the Rangers are no longer about protecting the area since they have gone to war. While the main target would have been Dale, Erebor, Mirkwood and Lothlorien, it is not inconceivable that Imladris would not have escaped entirely unscathed.

Oh, and ‘draughts’ is, in UK English, what ‘checkers’ is, I believe, in US English. I would remind people that I am a Brit so I use UK English spellings/references.

Ellon - male elf

Ellyn - male elves

Elleth - female elf.

Chapter 3 - “Under Starter’s Orders”

“Erestor, I need your help with something.”

Penny had gone to see the advisor almost immediately after she had finished rifling through her dresses. She had found him seated outside his study on a chair, reading in the early summer sun.

“I am not disturbing you, I hope?”

Erestor closed his book, carefully marking his place in it with a strip of ornately decorated leather that served him as a bookmark. He raised a curious eyebrow at her.

“Not at all, Pen-ii. What is it? Has Lord Elrond spoken to you about coming with us all?”

“He has, and that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Penny settled herself on the step to his study and looked up at him. “It is a great honour, and I am very pleased, but I am worried. I presume I cannot be at the wedding without a present, I would have thought. What in Arda do I give them? I only have a week to find something.”

“‘What in Arda’, Pen-ii?” Erestor could not help but laugh. “Dear me, I think I shall have to have words with Lindir if you are picking up those kinds of expressions from him.” He grinned.

“Oh, stop it. Are you going to help me? This is serious,” said Penny, returning his grin.

“Of course it is. You should not worry, Pen-ii. Lady Arwen knows you have had little time to prepare anything. She will not expect anything from you. She would be concerned, I am sure, if she felt you were going to any trouble on her behalf.”

“That is not the issue, Erestor. I want to do this, especially if it is the convention, and I do not want to be the only one who does not give anything, even if it is only something small.”

Erestor regarded her for a moment. One thing that had been immediately apparent to them all, even just from Halbarad’s description of her behaviour with him in Bree and on the journey to Imladris, was that Penny could be wilful and stubborn. He could see a certain determined look in her eye at this moment and realised that there would be no persuading her. He would have to do what he could to help her find a suitable gift to take with her, even though she had only seven days to do so.

“Well, I am sure there may be something suitable in one of the workshops, something that would go well in the Tower of Ecthelion.”

Penny gave Erestor what could only have been described as ‘a withering look.’

“Erestor, if at all possible I would like to give her something... that is from me. Not something made by someone else, or given to me to give to her. I only wish I was truly skilled at something. I cannot hope to ever have the kind of skill that you elves have at most things.” She let her head drop into her hands. “Oh, this is hopeless!” she sighed.

Erestor looked at her. He had a suspicion she might have had an idea of a gift already, but was too shy or embarrassed to say what she was thinking of.

“What did you have in mind, Pen-ii?”

“You promise me you will not laugh? I want your honest opinion if you think it will be inappropriate.”

“I promise. What were you thinking?”

He prayed to the Valar she was not going to suggest the rag-rug she had made. He had no idea how tactful he could manage to be about that. He may be a diplomat of centuries of experience, but it would be hard not to hurt her feelings about its awfulness given the amount of time she had spent on it.

“Well... I am not very good with throwing pots, as you know, but I do have one vase I have made that is not so bad. Even the potters have told me so.” Erestor raised an eyebrow at her and she smirked. “Well, let’s just say it doesn’t wobble and is not too lop-sided.” Erestor laughed as Penny continued. “I have not decorated it yet. My decoration is not as good as the elvish style, of course, but well enough that some things that I have painted have sold at markets already. I was thinking... perhaps...” She looked at him doubtfully. “It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, Pen-ii,” said Erestor, just relieved and thankful that it wasn’t the rug.

He had seen some of the pots and bowls she had painted and had been pleasantly surprised. She had said to Mithrandir she had enjoyed art in her youth, and it was clear she had a little talent for it. The designs were, it was true, nothing like elvish ones. They were clearly mannish in their simplicity and boldness, and yet utterly unlike anything he had seen before: unique, really. As such, something decorated by her would be entirely appropriate. The palace would be filled with such things as vases and plates, of course, but that was not the point. The point was she would have made an effort to give Aragorn and Arwen something that was relevant or personal. He knew Arwen would be most touched by such a gesture, and Aragorn also.

“I think that it is a marvellous idea, I really do.”

He came with her, then, to the workshop to see the vase she was talking about. He discussed with her if it was suitable and in the end they decided that it perhaps was not well made enough, so he helped her choose an undecorated one made by the elvish potters.

“There was a bowl I had painted that Lady Arwen said she liked the pattern and colouring of: pale blue with little white and yellow flowers on it. I think I shall do the same design on this.” She looked at Erestor who nodded his approval. “Would it be too much, do you think, to have a line of poetry on it? Something from a love poem, maybe? I would have to ask you to choose for me, of course.”

“That is a delightful thought, Pen-ii. I shall think of something suitable for you.”

“Would you also write it on the vase for me? I do not trust my Tengwar with a brush on a curved surface and I want it to be perfect.”

Erestor agreed. Penny was thrilled and thanked him all the way back to the halls. The vase Erestor had chosen was small, and so easy to pack for travelling, but at least he had approved her idea of decorating it herself. It was a little thing, perhaps, but she wanted to make an effort for a present for them. Especially after all the kindness and support Arwen had shown her.

She was surprised that evening when, after supper, Mireth and Eleniel dragged her off to Eleniel’s chambers.

“What is it, you two?”

The two ellith exchanged a grin.

“Well, Pen-ii, I didn’t say anything earlier, because I needed to check what I had first,” Eleniel began as Mireth closed the door. “That green dress you chose today is the best of the ones you have and will certainly do well enough, but I thought you might like a new one for the wedding itself.”

Penny’s jaw near hit the floor.

“Don’t look so surprised, Pen-ii,” laughed Mireth. “You know we always have a few dresses ready-made in case of visitors or someone needs a new one for some reason. Eleniel has found one that will suit you perfectly. It is only a shame there is not enough time to make you a completely new one.” Hand-sewing a dress would, indeed, take a lot longer than a week.

Eleniel went to her wardrobe and pulled out a deep red dress. It had a little embroidery on the cuffs and round the neck in white and gold: nothing too fancy, but certainly enough to make it more splendid than any dress Penny had been given so far.

“Oh, but it’s beautiful,” Penny gasped, coming over to it and taking it from Eleniel. The two elves watched her astonishment and delight with wide grins. Penny glanced up at Eleniel. “Thank you so much, Eleniel. I am... touched. Really. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. It was just sitting there collecting dust, so it is as well you should have it.”

Penny knew that was a slight exaggeration, but thanked her all the same.

“It will need a little adjusting,” Eleniel continued. “It is far too long, of course, and will need a little fixing to shape it correctly for your figure, but most can be done before we leave, and the rest I can do on the journey. It will take us two months to get there, nearly, so I will have plenty of time.”

Penny was looking forward to the fact that she would be travelling with so many people she knew.

Bilbo would not be coming, of course. From the day Barad-dûr had fallen, he had started to age considerably. Penny and he still played draughts of an evening now and then, though outside usually now that the weather was so much milder. A few elves would be remaining also, to maintain the halls and gardens and to care for the animals such as the chickens, geese and ducks, so Bilbo would have company.

“It is a shame you will not be there to see it,” Penny said one afternoon over tea. Mireth, who was with her, agreed.

“No, I will not make long journeys again, my dear,” said Bilbo. “I would like to be there, true enough, but it is too far. You will have to tell me all about it when you come back, though. I shall have to write it all down.”

“I am sure there will be others here who might be able to do that better than I. Maura will tell you everything you could want to know, I am sure.”

Bilbo nodded, a warm smile on his face, but said nothing.

Preparations had already been under way for weeks, now. Given the number of people going, there was a lot to be done. Food needed to be prepared, for a start. Early fruit crops were picked and prepared, jars of stored fruits, dried fruits and nuts were now brought out from storerooms and readied. Penny was roped in to help make 'cram': it was prepared on large square trays that filled an entire shelf in the massive ovens. Once cooled it was cut into squares and wrapped in leaves.

Four days before they left, Erestor carefully painted on the line of poetry he had found for her vase. At Penny’s request he had found a suitable line from the Lay of Leithian. She was concerned it might not be an appropriate choice of poem but Erestor assured her than Arwen would love it. The vase was glazed and fired later that same day. Erestor admired it when it was done and said he thought it entirely suitable. Penny beamed.

“So, should I give her this now, or later? At Minas Tirith? On the wedding day itself? How are things done? I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“You must not worry yourself so much, Pen-ii,” laughed Erestor. “Really, we elves are not so caught up in formalities as the humans you will meet. We have our ceremonies and traditions, but we are far more relaxed and fluid in our dealings with each other. Just wait till you reach Minas Tirith: Mithrandir and Aragorn could have told you, but it is there, not here, you will have to worry about what you do or say and to whom and how. You can present your gift to Arwen whenever you feel it would be most appropriate. Some are still giving their gifts to her now, some did so quite some time ago, others will not be given till we reach Gondor. It is up to you.”

In the end Penny decided she would give it to her before they left. That way Arwen could discreetly leave it at Imladris if she did not like it.

She spoke to Mireth and Eleniel about it, and they both said they had yet to give their gifts to Arwen.

“We shall give them to her together, if you wish,” smiled Mireth. Penny felt relieved. Her gift would not match theirs, but at least it would not make such a big thing of it than if it was presented by itself.

That evening, just before supper, the three went to their chambers to fetch their gifts and then, meeting at the bottom of the stairs, made their way to the small clearing with the fountain where they knew Arwen would be. A few other elves were already there, presenting her with this or that, and Penny realised that this was clearly a pre-arranged thing since Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel were all there also, admiring the various gifts as they were given.

Mireth gave Arwen a bracelet she had had made in the shape of intertwined flower buds. Eleniel had made Arwen a beautiful shawl with detailed embroidery on it that must have taken even someone of her skill quite some time to do. As she presented it she explained that this was actually on behalf of several ellith, not just herself, since a group of them had worked on it together. Penny stepped forward and said little as she presented her vase. She did not want to make a big thing of it, given it was hardly comparable to anything else she could see Arwen had been given. Arwen, though, realised immediately it was her own design work.

“Oh, I loved this pattern when you showed me the bowl you had done. Thank you so much, Pen-ii. It is delightful.” She read the line of poetry on it and beamed at her. “Most appropriate. I thank you, Pen-ii.” Penny smiled.

Looking up she caught Erestor’s eye. He grinned at her and nodded his head as if to say ‘I told you so.’ Penny moved round to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Not at all, Pen-ii,” he chuckled.

The next day, with Mireth, Eleniel and Arwen’s help and advice, Penny began to pack. She had next to nothing to take, of course, but her three pairs of shoes and six dresses. Arwen advised her to take them all.

“You do not know how long you may stay, Pen-ii. It may be you find you prefer the company of men rather than elves. You would be most welcome in Minas Tirith, I am sure.”

Penny had faltered a little at that, and looked at Arwen quizzically. She wondered if, in fact, she had been invited for reasons other than just to view the scenery and other places in Middle-earth. She could have stayed behind with Bilbo, if they had so chosen. Arwen had sensed her change of mood. She gave Penny a warm smile.

“Do not fear, Pen-ii. You will not be forced to live anywhere you would not wish to be, and Imladris will be your home for as long as wish to stay.”

“I thank you, Lady Arwen,” said Penny, but she was a little worried now.

“You must also consider anything in your chamber to be yours to take with you, Pen-ii. So, please, take the hand mirror, the comb, towels, or anything else that you feel you will need. I know Mireth has supplied you with scented oil and shampoo already. You will find such things in short supply amongst the men, or not nearly of the same quality. It would be an idea to fill up your bottles when we reach Lothlórien as well.”

Penny smiled, then. Mireth had indeed supplied Penny with a little wooden box with three, large stoppered pots in it: shampoo, conditioner and scented oil. It also contained a large bar of soap wrapped in a kind of cheesecloth. Elvish views on human hygiene were well known to her now. Both Mireth and Eleniel had been appalled and disgusted by Penny’s description of Bree. They had heard it was bad, but to hear Penny’s eyewitness account of it had confirmed that humans were no cleaner than animals as far as they were concerned. Neither was particularly looking forward to visiting Minas Tirith or Edoras.

“Gondor might not be so bad,” Eleniel said doubtfully, “but I can remember Aragorn talking about Edoras after he first went there. Mithrandir could tell you tales about that place that would make your hair stand on end, Pen- ii.”

Penny was alarmed. She had got very used to the comforts of Imladris. She did not imagine Lothlórien would be much different, but would she be back to nightmare latrines and latherless soap further south? She remembered Saruman’s comment to the effect that the Rohirrim were filthy lowlife with dogs everywhere. There were all the horses too, of course... which would mean piles of horseshit everywhere, presumably...

Once more Penny felt she was not looking forward to this, though for entirely different reasons now. Her one small comfort was that, if it turned out to be as bad as she, Mireth and Eleniel feared, the elves would be just as appalled by it all as she would be if not more so. That could be quite an amusing sight to see: a hundred elves, or more, having to deal with latrines of the kind she had dealt with in Bree. It suddenly occurred to her that Elladan (he who had seen fit to wash his comb in front of her) had had to deal with Edoras already as well as Helm’s Deep. She could just imagine Aragorn and Halbarad wetting themselves as Elrohir and Elladan went about the place with cloths tied over their noses and disgusted expressions on their faces. Penny started snickering just at the thought.

Mireth had also given Penny a few sachets of herbs to take with her. One was herbs for any pain or aches. She had also given her some salve and balm because, as she said, it was always useful to have these things about you since you never knew when you might need them. The balm, apparently, was particularly good on aching muscles and sore skin.

“You’ll need it after a few weeks riding or walking, Pen-ii, I can promise you,” Mireth had smiled.

The largest of the sachets, filled with the herbs Penny took once a month to ease her period pain, made her realise, to her horror, that she was going to have to deal with that while on the move. Being able to wash cloths in the privacy of her chambers and then leaving them to dry in front of the fire where no one could see them was one thing. She had got used to that completely. Now, though, she would have to try and dry them while in the middle of an open-air camp with umpteen males wandering about.

It was two days before they left. Penny was in the dressmaking workshop, being fitted for the red dress again so Eleniel could check it had been taken up to the correct length. Arwen had just come in to discuss a few things and, after admiring Penny’s dress, the two walked back to the halls together.

“It suits you, Pen-ii. I think Eleniel has chosen very well for you.”

“I thank you, Lady Arwen.” Penny paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“But of course, Pen-ii. What is it?”

“It’s... well... I imagine it is something an elleth would never have to deal with, and you may not know what to advise me, but we will be travelling long enough for me to have two bleeds before we reach Minas Tirith. I am at a loss as to how to deal with it. Here it is easy enough to keep it from being known. I realise the ellyn understand these things happen – that is life – but I would prefer to be as... private as possible about it all. Having to wash and dry cloths while keeping it private will not be easy. Perhaps not possible at all. I do not want to embarrass them... or myself.”

“I understand entirely, Pen-ii. Though, as you say, they would understand and not be embarrassed in the least. That first time here, with Erestor, he was more embarrassed because he had made a fuss over it all without realising what was happening than anything else. The other elleth and I will help you to be discrete. The main thing will be drying the cloths, of course. You will see that we will sleep separately – the males from the females – while travelling. It should be easy enough to place the cloths over or near our own fire every evening and nighttime. We shall manage, I am sure.”

Penny nodded, somewhat relieved. With all of them working together on the problem she felt confident that they would manage to be as discrete as could be possible in such a situation.

Penny had so little to take with her that she shared a bag with both Eleniel and Mireth for her clothes. She, being the only one with a saddle, also had two large saddlebags to pack. She was advised to keep her toiletries and anything she may need every day in them, so she packed her box of soaps and oils in there, as well as a small flannel and one towel. The comb, mirror and razor were in there also.

On the other side she packed her sheaf of papers of Sindarin vocabulary, her Sindarin reader and also Erestor’s latest gift to her. He had called her into his study the day before they were due to leave.

“This will be your first time outside of Imladris since you came here,” he had said to her. “Eru knows what you will make of it all, or if you will come back here.”

Penny looked at him sharply. He was now the second person to say that to her. Was something else going on here that she did not know about?

“In any case, I thought you might like these. A gift. I will expect you to read from them while we are travelling, to keep up your lessons, but I think you will enjoy having them also.” He then presented her with two books.

One, she was stunned and delighted to see, was a copy of Quenta Silmarillion. There were maps and one or two illustrations, just simple ink and pen line drawings, of Gondolin, Doriath and other major cities or places of note. The other, since he knew it was one of her favourite tales, was the entire Tale of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin.

She had tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Erestor. Really. I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I will treasure them.”

“I know you will,” he smiled.

As she made her way to dinner that evening, she mulled over the fact that both Arwen and Erestor had now hinted at the possibility of her not returning to Imladris. Was this just them thinking she might prefer to be with human company? Or had something been discussed about her, in her absence, to the effect that it might be better for her to stay in Gondor than with the elves? She could not stay in Rivendell indefinitely, she supposed. Elrond had shown her much kindness in allowing her to stay even as long as she had. Now the war was over these were issues that needed to be addressed. She felt a wave of nerves hit her. Perhaps she would be persuaded not to come back here. Would she ever see Imladris again?

After the meal, in which she was noticeably quiet, despite Lindir’s best efforts to get her chatting, she sat in the Hall of Fire with Bilbo listening to the songs. Elrond and Erestor were not there, she noticed, and after a little while she decided she needed to talk to them about this. She knew they would only have her best interests at heart, but she felt this needed to be discussed. She also had a right to know if something had been decided without her.

She checked the few smaller antechambers in case they were using them, as was often the case, but found them empty. The only places left were their own private studies. The laughter and low talking from behind Erestor’s chamber door told her where they were. She knocked and waited.

“Come in,” Erestor called.

Penny opened the door and stuck her head round it. She could see Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel were all sharing a flagon of wine, seated on a blanket they had spread on the grass just outside the door that led to the gardens.

“Forgive me, am I disturbing you?”

“Not at all, Pen-ii. Would you care for some wine?” Elrond replied. Without even waiting for her response, Glorfindel stood and entered Erestor’s study to fetch her a goblet from the cabinet where they were kept.

“I thank you, that is most kind,” Penny replied, crossing the study to join them outside and sit on the blanket next to Erestor as he had indicated for her to do. Glorfindel followed her with a cup in his hand and handed it to Erestor who then poured her some wine.

“Are you looking forward to travelling?” Glorfindel asked her as he seated himself once more.

“Very much,” she nodded. “A little nervous, perhaps, but more excited, I think.” The three ellyn smiled.

“What are you looking forward to seeing most, do you think?” asked Elrond.

Penny considered for a moment and then, with a slight laugh had to admit that she really did not know.

“Lothlórien, I think, since it is so hard to imagine what it might be like, but since all the places we will see are part and parcel of the story I know so well, it will all be wonderful and strange. Just like when I first came here.” Penny paused before adding hesitantly, “It... it may be a little overwhelming for me, you do realise that?”

“Yes, Pen-ii, we are well aware of it,” said Erestor kindly. “But there will be many there with you who know your story, and others who have become good friends and will be there if you need them. Besides, it is a little different for you now, perhaps, since you can communicate and you have already had to accept where you are and what you are surrounded by. It is not quite the same as those first few days or weeks here in Imladris were for you.”

“Yes, that is true. Even so... seeing... seeing Mordor, the Pelennor and places like it will be a little difficult...”

“They will be difficult for us all, Pen-ii, though for different reasons, perhaps,” said Elrond quietly.

There was a brief silence.

“Lord Elrond,” said Penny at last. “May I discuss something with you?”

Elrond looked at her quizzically and nodded.

“It’s nothing, perhaps, but Lord Erestor and Lady Arwen have both mentioned something to me that as made me think. I... I don’t really know how to begin, but... well... what is to become of me?” She kept her gaze firmly fixed on her cup of wine and did not see the slight glance exchanged between the three ellyn as she spoke. “I realise it was not, perhaps, a decision that could be made before the war ended, but now...”

Elrond shifted himself slightly before speaking. “Pen-ii, the decision will be yours. I am not going to pretend it has not been discussed. It is, I must confess, one of the reasons why we asked you to accompany us all, though not the chief one, I hasten to add.”

Penny felt her heart sink. So she had been right.

“I had planned to discuss this with you in Minas Tirith,” Elrond continued. “I was not going to say anything to you about it till then since I did not want you to think we were trying to make you leave Imladris against your will. Far from it. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. If you want to make this your permanent home I would be happy to allow you to stay. However, we felt it only fair that you be given the choice... and to make that choice you need to know what the choices are. You can only do that by seeing the possibilities for yourself, I think you would agree. Wherever you decide to settle, you will need to have people near you who know your story, so your choice will be between staying here in the North with us, or moving to Minas Tirith with Aragorn and Arwen. You will be as well provided for there as here, I can assure you. I had planned to discuss this with Mithrandir and Aragorn, though, before I broached it with you. I wanted their opinion and advice. They may think it better you stay with us here, rather than risk much interaction with the humans of Arda given your circumstances and background.”

Penny was not entirely sure why she felt so upset about all this. Part of her was fairly furious that this had all been discussed behind her back, but she realised that no decisions had been made, nor would they have been made without her full involvement. She still felt she should have been told.

All three elves could sense her resentment.

“Forgive me if I have upset you,” said Lord Elrond.

“Not at all,” Penny smiled.

They could tell she was being polite, but gave her credit for not expressing her true feelings. All three were struck by the difference between this and the woman they had first met, who would have been screaming and shouting her disapproval almost instantly, and especially if Halbarad had been with them.

“Well, I cannot comment on the peoples of the south,” Penny continued quietly, “but if the humans of the north are anything to go by, I think I have more in common with elves.”

“How so, Pen-ii?” asked Erestor.

“Well, you believe in washing for a start.”

They laughed loudly at that.

“Well, yes, that is true enough,” chuckled Elrond. He regarded Penny for a moment. “Forgive me, Pen-ii, perhaps I should have spoken to you before now. I did not want you to think you were not welcome here. You are. I hope you know that.”

“I thank you, Lord Elrond,” she nodded. “I do. Do not think me ungrateful. You have been most kind and courteous to me. I have not deserved it, and yet you have taken me in and looked after me. I... I am very honoured and I can never repay you.”

“It was the least we could do for you, Pen-ii. It is Halbarad you have to thank, though, in truth. It was his decision to bring you here. He could have left you in any one of the small human settlements in Eriador.”

“I know,” said Penny, her voice suddenly quiet.

Others joining them, who had been out for a walk in the gardens and so discovered them from the outside, interrupted their discussion. Arwen was amongst them, as were Celebdor, Mireth and Eleniel, and a pleasant and entertaining evening was spent in telling tales, jests and deep discussions on utterly frivolous matters.

Tomorrow morning, early, they would set off and Penny would be with them. Ahead of her she faced new experiences, new places and new peoples. Now she knew she could even possibly be travelling to a new home.

Chapter 4 - “The Long and Winding Road”

It was an early wake-up call that morning. Not that Penny had slept much, since she was so excited. She expected most of Rivendell had been up half the night as well. Certainly the talking had gone on till very late on the grass outside of Erestor’s study the previous night. When Mireth knocked on her chamber door, Penny was already up and dressed with her last few wash items packed in her saddlebag, and she was sitting on the bed waiting for Mireth to arrive.

At breakfast, though, it started to kick in and Penny was yawning hugely. Bilbo was chortling to himself.

“Now, Pen-ii, that was not sensible. Travelling is a tiring business without setting out already exhausted. Elves do not need rest the way we do, or at least they can catch up on their rest in ways that we cannot.” He drained the last of his tea before asking, “Now, do you have everything packed?”

He started listing everything he thought she might need, like a fussing mother hen. Penny was actually very touched that he was treating her no differently to how he might fuss over Pippin, or even Frodo.

“Tea? Did you pack some tea?” he was now asking.

She sat bolt upright in response.

“What! You did not pack tea?!” Bilbo was appalled. “Go! Shoo! Quickly! There is still time!” With that he was up off his chair and hurrying her gently along in front of him down to the kitchens where they found a spare empty pot and filled it with tea leaves.

“But I do not have a teapot, or a strainer. I cannot just take one without asking, Bilba.”

“Yes, you can. They have plenty.” Bilbo helped himself to a strainer from one of the large drawers of utensils.

All around them was a flurry of activity with elves already carrying out the packages of foodstuffs to be loaded onto the horses. Naurdir was busy directing everyone and looked harassed beyond belief. Penny did not really like to disturb him, but when he came straight past her at one point, stopping to ask her had she packed some lembas amongst her own things yet, she waved the tea strainer at him.

“Can I take this with me, Naurdir? I do not want to without asking.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Anything you need, take it,” said Naurdir flapping his hand vaguely at her, before rushing over to take charge of a large pack of cram being lifted out of the door. Penny was not even sure Naurdir had even taken in what it was she was asking about, but no matter.

Once outside, it was not mayhem exactly, but extremely busy and Penny felt she was better off out of the way rather than under everyone’s feet. She kept up on the steps with Bilbo, watching everything being readied.

The number of horses about was extraordinary. She knew there were a lot in Imladris given how large the stables were, as well as the considerable number in the various paddocks round Imaldris itself. To see them all in one place together, however, was fairly impressive. She noticed that most were being used to carry belongings.

Not everyone would be riding, then.

She saw Lindir leading the mare she usually rode towards her. The horse was already saddled and all tacked up. He helped her get the saddlebags on, and then a few other things were loaded on as well, such as a water sac, bedrolls and other sundry items that she would share with Eleniel on their travels. Penny felt a little guilty about riding if everyone else would be walking.

“Nonsense, Pen-ii,” laughed Lindir. “We will not all be walking. Many will be riding, myself included, and as the foodstuffs are depleted more space will become available on the other horses also. We will take turns on the horses as well. You must remember, though, Pen-ii, this will be a hard journey for you, whether you walk or ride. You will be glad to have a horse available for you to sit on, as well as the opportunity to get out of the saddle at times. You, of all of us, need to have a horse.”

Ah, so it was ‘the feeble human’ routine, thought Penny bitterly. She could not deny the truth of it, though.

At last everything was ready, and it was still early morning. Penny and Bilbo had said their goodbyes already, but she still gave him a quick hug before climbing up into the saddle. She watched with interest the quiet conversation had between Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen and Bilbo before the two elves then went to mount their steeds.

Elrond, Arwen, Glorfindel and Erestor were all horsed. Lindir was also riding, as were many of the ellyn. Celebdor had insisted Mireth start out on his horse and was walking by her side. Penny noticed that the ellyn were all fully armed with sword, knife and bow. She was even more surprised when Lindir came up to her and pulled a small dagger from his belt and stuffed it into one of her saddlebags. She opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her.

“Just to be on the safe side, Pen-ii. You may be grateful for it at some point. Besides, Lord Glorfindel insisted.”

Penny looked up to find the golden-haired ellon already astride his steed, some way ahead and beside Lord Elrond. He was twisted round on his horse’s back and watching Lindir’s actions. He caught her eye and smiled, nodding at her. She nodded in return, but could not help but feel nervous. She knew orcs were still to found, if sporadically, in the mountains. There were many fully armed warriors travelling with them, of course, but the very fact that they were insisting she also have her own knife ‘just in case’ still completely freaked her out.

If actually faced with an orc, she doubted she would have the presence of mind to even reach for a dagger, or do anything at all other than have hysterics, wet herself or simply have a heart attack on the spot. Even if it never came to that and any attack was held off by the warrior ellyn, she was still likely to make a complete fool of herself: scream herself silly or worse. It did not bear thinking about. She felt vaguely sick and tense at the very idea.

Bilbo and the few elves staying behind were standing on the steps to see them off. The hobbit waved cheerily enough, but Penny knew he was still sad he could not come with them.

‘He’ll love having the run of the place, though,’ Penny thought. She smirked as she thought of him bustling about Imladris directing elves who were more than capable of knowing what needed to be done without him telling them. ‘He’ll drive them completely potty.’ She laughed to herself.

Lindir had come to ride along side her as they slowly set off and raised an eyebrow at her quiet chuckle.

“Just thinking about Bilba,” she explained. “He will be running circles round them all within a week, I am sure of it.” Lindir grinned and nodded.

The pace was slow, since many were walking, but even so they covered good ground. Just after midday they came to the Ford of Bruinen and turned south towards Hollin. Penny, sitting side-saddle, as were all the elleth who were riding, was content to watch the countryside pass and listen to the songs being sung. No sooner did one voice fall silent from somewhere within the crowd, than another would begin. Only once or twice was there a tune in Quenya, so many of the songs she could follow to a certain extent. She realised many of them were love songs, and wondered if this was deliberate. She suspected it was.

They stopped for lunch, which was a simple meal of cheeses, bread and water. Everyone sat in small groups where they were, and made no attempt to stand on ceremony or get together in a group. Most had their own food with them, which, when it ran out, would be replaced from the larger stores loaded on the horses.

It was a very relaxed affair, and Penny, as she ate with Mireth, Eleniel, Lindir and Celebdor, looked about at the horses grazing quietly, the small groups of elves chattering and laughing sitting on the ground, and was amazed. You would not have thought this was the start of a two-month trek to Gondor that would involve miles and miles of travel on foot for most as well as slogging over a mountain range. It was like a day out for a picnic.

It felt utterly bizarre.

But then, that was elves for you. Penny could just imagine Halbarad saying as much, too.

She decided to walk a little after lunch, rather than ride. Her backside was already aching a little, and they had barely begun. As they journeyed further, the landscape was becoming bleaker. There were few trees, except deep in the valleys where there were gushing, rapid waters, tumbling over boulders and running towards the rivers from the mountains. It was much like the landscape that led to Imladris from the north, the landscape that she and Halbarad had crossed together. There were hills everywhere, but this was a rugged and far wilder landscape, with fewer trees. Everywhere there were huge masses of thick and tangled thorn bushes. The path they took was a winding one, into valleys and out of them, the whole crowd of them stretched out in a long train.

Penny realised she was following the Fellowship’s path, and that as likely as not they were heading for Hollin, Eregion, and then the Redhorn Gate on Caradhras. Her head swam a little. She faltered for just a moment, but did not stop, carried as she was by the momentum of those walking and riding near her.

“Pen-ii, are you well? Perhaps you should get back in the saddle...”

It was Lindir. Trust him not to miss a beat.

“I am fine, honestly.”

The look on Lindir’s face told her he would brook no argument, that his words had been firmer than a mere suggestion. With a resigned and vaguely irritated sigh, Penny stopped and caught hold of the saddle, dragging herself up onto the horse.

“Bloody do-gooding elves. Never give you a moment’s peace,” she muttered.

Lindir was alongside her. “Since you are muttering in your own tongue, I can only presume you are complaining about me,” he grinned.

“Yes,” she snapped. “I do not need you fussing over me.”

Lindir looked hurt. “Very well. My apologies for being concerned,” he said stiffly. He spurred his horse into a trot and went forward to ride beside a group of ellyn further up the track.

“Bloody elves!”

She did feel bad, though. It was only because he cared. She had not snapped at him like that in quite a while. The realisation of where she was going and the path she was taking had thrown her a little, and she had spoken without thinking. ‘Old Fiery Penny,’ that was what Halbarad used to call her when she behaved like that.

She sighed. She missed Halbarad terribly. Ridiculous, in some ways, given how little a time they had known each other, but she could not help herself. She found herself looking about her and wondering how well he had known this countryside. She imagined he, and all the Dúnedain, knew it nearly as well as Aragorn probably did. She knew most of them were still down there in Gondor. It would be strange to meet them all again, especially the few she had met when they were gathering in Imladris.

She suddenly realised Halbarad’s sons might be there.

She was not sure if she was pleased or scared by the thought she might finally meet them. She doubted they would know about her, but it would be nice to have them pointed out to her...

Then another thought hit her. What if they were dead?

She felt her eyes fill with tears. She only knew the names of one or two people who had fallen in the War, but in fact many would have done, many nameless men. Both at the Pelennor as well as the Black Gate, let alone elsewhere. Even if Halbarad’s sons had managed to join him, she could not know if they had survived the battles they would have faced: over the ships, in front of Minas Tirith, or on the Dagorlad itself.

Penny felt suddenly terribly depressed as dusk approached and they wound their way slowly into a deep-sided valley. There were trees here, but even so Penny now discovered the reason for quite so many baggages had been brought with them and why, therefore, so many were on foot.

Awnings appeared. Some were mere covers stretched between trees, but many were like tents.

Ellyn busied themselves in one group, while the elleth congregated a little way apart from them. Penny helped unload the horses, piling up the bags in a large heap that was then covered by a tarpaulin. It was not yet fully dark and, as she worked, she could see two ellyn disappearing off into the trees. One had two small spades over his shoulder, the other was carrying a rolled up awning and sticks. She furrowed her brow a little as she watched them. She was with Eleniel as she had seen them and the elleth had looked up to see what it was she had noticed.

“To look for a place for a latrine,” she explained. “There are so many of us, better to use one spot than many.”

Penny had wondered how that situation would be dealt with. It was easy enough for the ellyn, of course. More than once she had seen one or two wander off from the main group and reappear some minutes later looking a little more comfortable and relaxed as they had journeyed. When they had stopped for lunch several of the ellith had wandered off in a group over the brow of a hill. Penny had been asked if she needed to accompany them, but had shaken her head shyly. It meant she now felt like a near-exploding water-balloon.

“They’ll tell us when it’s dug. It will not take long,” Eleniel reassured her. She could see that vaguely strained look round Penny’s eyes.

Sure enough within twenty minutes or so Penny saw the two ellyn return to the main group, speak to a few near them, pointing back in the direction they had come.

In the meantime, there was water to be fetched, and fires to be started. Penny took her sac and those of several others to the briskly flowing water nearby. Mireth and Eleniel came with her, also carrying several water sacs. Even if a sac was not empty it was filled to the brim.

Eleniel took the opportunity to explain to Penny how the latrine would work.

“It will be screened. Inside will be a pile of earth from where the hole has been dug. Fill a jug with water to take with you to wash, and use the little spade that will be left outside to cover over the latrine a little when you are finished. They will have picked some leaves to use as well. Remember, though, to put the spade back outside when you leave. That is how someone else knows no one is in there.”

Mireth laughed, “Well, yes, otherwise people could be standing there hopping about for quite some time before they realise.”

Penny still made a point for the rest of the journey of going to the latrine with at least one other person, though. Then they could stand outside and prevent anyone else from coming near. This was the general policy adopted by most, she discovered, and it made life a little easier for everyone.

A fire had been lit and a large pot was bubbling away with vegetables in it when Penny, Mireth and Eleniel returned from the latrine. As ever, someone was singing, now with a harp and flute being played in accompaniment. Penny settled herself in the crowd sitting around the fire in a loose circle of chatting groups. She spotted Lindir sitting almost opposite her. She had not had an opportunity to speak to him since this afternoon. She stood and crossed over to him.

“Lindir?”

He looked up at her, his jaw a little set, but his eyes kind.

“I wanted to apologise. It was wrong to speak to you like that, forgive me. I know you were only advising me to do what you thought was best. I am grateful for your concern.”

Lindir smiled and nodded. “I thank you, Pen-ii.” He patted the grass beside him and she sat next to him. “You seemed a little distracted this afternoon. More like you were in those first few weeks in Imladris. Is anything amiss?”

“No. Perhaps travelling again has unsettled me a little. It is the first time since...”

“...since Halbarad found you. I understand. Really.”

They fell into silence, listening to the song and watching the fire.

“When are we ever going to hear a song from you, Pen-ii?” smirked Lindir at her after some time. Penny was hugely grateful when Naurdir, who had been poking a spoon into the pot, saved her from a response by straightening to announce that food was ready.

They shared bowls. It saved on the washing up as well as on the amount to be carried with them on the journey. Three or four ate round each bowl of vegetable stew with hunks of bread fresh-baked in Imladris that morning. Afterwards, as several headed off to the stream to wash out the bowls and clean the spoons, there were more songs, and poetic recitations. It was much like any night in the Hall of Fire, only outside.

“Songs round the campfire,” Penny snickered to herself.

She suddenly had visions of elves with marshmallows on sticks singing ‘On Top of Spaghetti’ or ‘Ten Green Bottles’ at full volume. She buried her face into her knees to stop her laughter.

Erestor, sitting nearby, caught her eye and raised an eyebrow at her. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to keep control of herself, but she now had this vivid image in her head of Lindir in a sleeping-bag and that was just making matters worse.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. As she did so, she felt a dig in the ribs from Lindir. “Erestor is beckoning you over... and whatever is making you laugh, control yourself before you get there: he has Lord Elrond and Glorfindel with him.”

She nodded, thanking Lindir who grinned back at her, as she stood and made her way over to them.

They were seated a little way apart from the others. Arwen was nearby and smiled up at Penny as she passed her.

“I trust you had a pleasant first day of travelling, Pen-ii?” she asked.

“Indeed, Lady Arwen. I thank you. I hope the same for you?”

Arwen nodded, and then rose to come with Penny to sit with her father and those with him.

“So, Pen-ii, how was it?” Erestor was asking. “A little different from travelling with one unwashed Dúnadan, I imagine?”

“Just a little,” Penny laughed quietly. “I am not terrified of the horse I am riding this time for a start.” She hesitated, then said quietly, “It is a little strange, I must confess, to be travelling once more.”

“Brings back memories?” asked Glorfindel gently.

“Well, yes. I found myself thinking about Halbarad for most of the afternoon, I must confess.” She looked up at them and found Elrond in particular was studying her closely. “Not only that, though. I... well... I know the direction we are taking, do I not? Both now and across the mountains?”

Erestor and Elrond exchanged the briefest of glances as Glorfindel nodded. Penny said nothing more, not wishing to be too explicit with that many pairs of sharp elvish ears in the near vicinity, but they all understood each other and she was correct: they were following in the footsteps of the Fellowship.

Yes, their ordeal was over and the trauma of it all was passed, but it was no less significant to Penny for that. It probably meant less even to those others who understood the path they were following. Not only was this a path they knew well, had known for many long centuries, but they also could not experience the same level of importance it held to Penny, dyed-in-the-wool Tolkien-fan that she was. This was where they walked, actually walked. For all she knew they may have rested in this self-same valley as they slept during the light of day.

She was lost in her own thoughts again. The others did not disturb her. She cast her mind back to when she had travelled with Halbarad, how she had been so distressed and disturbed by the knowledge that had slowly filtered through to her on their way to Imladris. This was not like that now, nowhere near it, indeed, but it was still unsettling.

No, not unsettling, or rather that was not the overwhelming emotion.

It was exciting. Thrilling. Exhilarating.

Penny suddenly realised, with a leap in her stomach, that this was going to be fantastic. She was walking the same path as the Fellowship, and doing so in the company of a whole load of elves. She let a smile spread over her face. The smile quickly developed into a beam, and then a broad grin.

At last the company started to drift away and settle down for the night. As Eleniel came over to get Penny, Erestor leaned over to her.

“By the way, I want you riding next to me at some point tomorrow. You are going to read me sections of those books I gave you.”

“Oh, Erestor,” Penny groaned, laughingly. “Can I not have a little break for a day or two? I am surrounded by Sindarin all the time now, and am learning every time I open my mouth or listen to others.”

“That is not the point,” Erestor wagged a finger at her, smilingly.

“He is right,” said Elrond, his face impassive but his eyes glinting with laughter in the firelight. “You have to keep up your reading and writing practice as well as your speaking and listening. You cannot write on top of a horse, it is true, but you can read.”

“I will believe that when I see it,” snorted Penny. “I am not an elf, I have no sense of balance. If I fall off my horse and land on my head tomorrow, it will be your fault Erestor.” They laughed as Eleniel dragged her off to the tent they were sharing.

There were at least twelve sleeping in each awning, bedrolls on the ground. Arwen, her two ladies in waiting, and Mireth were all in the same awning as Eleniel and Penny. In one corner there was a bucket of water, a bowl and a cup. Washing was done by using the cup to pour a little of the water into the bowl, and then taking a stand-up wash behind a sheet held up by two others: basic but functional. Several others in their tent had already done so before the meal apparently, and Eleniel and Penny now washed quickly. The water was freezing cold and, being in the open without a fire to stand in front of, meant Penny was quickly shivering and covered in goosebumps. It might be May, but it was only at the beginning of the month as well as being night time. This was not pleasant, Penny decided.

“When there is enough cover beside a river to screen us from others, then we can take a bath and wash our hair as well. We will take turns: males one day and females the next time,” Eleniel explained as they settled down on their bedrolls and under blankets.

Penny opened her mouth to say something, her eyes wide. Eleniel giggled at the expression of surprise on Penny’s face. Penny boggled at the idea, frankly. That would be interesting: stripping off to wash in a freezing cold mountain stream panicking that Lindir, Erestor or any one of the umpteen ellyn with them were about to come marching round the corner. Penny did not relish the prospect.

So she had the choice of either stinking to high heaven and offending sensitive elvish sensibilities, or freezing her backside off and probably getting a cold whether it was by standing naked and shivering behind a sheet or sitting naked and shivering in a mountain stream. With the latter she would also have the added thrill of worrying about flashing the entire male population of Imladris.

Suddenly she understood why humans did not wash at all while travelling. Only elves, so obsessed by cleanliness and their hair, would suffer such things. Added to which they would not feel the cold the way she did.

As Penny let her tiredness overwhelm her, she thought more about it all. She wondered if it they would all wash individually in the rivers. Given their numbers, it would possibly take them all night to do so. Penny now suspected that might mean it would be done communally. That meant she would have to strip off and share a freezing cold stream with a load of naked ellith, the prospect of which scared her nearly as much as the idea of an ellon getting an accidental glimpse of her in the buff.

‘Bloody elves,’ thought Penny. She could feel her nerves building just at the thought. Life here was nothing if not complicated, and even about the simplest things.

“Oh, for a proper bathroom with hot running water,” she murmured wistfully.

Listening to the sound of gentle rain that had begun pattering on the roof of their tent and the distant splashing of the stream, Penny drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 5 - “The ‘Dorwinion Barrel’ Escapade”

It was an early start, of course. Penny was still groggy as she rolled inelegantly out of her blanket at Eleniel’s gentle insistence. She had forgotten quite how horribly uncomfortable sleeping on nothing but a bedroll could be.

She looked about her blearily to see most of the ellith were already dressed and even those that were not looked immaculate. Penny - tired, achy and so not in the best of moods - glowered at them. She had two bloody months of this: waking up, feeling about as attractive as a troll, only to see gloriously beautiful visions of femininity.

“Do I have time for a wash?” she grumbled at Eleniel.

“Yes, if you are quick.”

Mireth and another elleth held up the sheet for her, while Penny washed. As she started pulling a comb through her hair, there were loud male voices outside, which indicated the awning was about to be pulled down on top of her if she did not move ‘quick smart.’ She gathered her belongings and hurried out, plonking herself up against a nearby tree to finish dealing with her hair.

Eleniel had trimmed it for her a few times already, but it was kept long these days, far longer than Penny had ever had her hair. It meant it was a bugger to keep unknotted, though, given how fine it was, and she would dearly have loved to have a good bristled brush rather than one tiny comb.

She was busy yanking the comb against a tangle when there was a chuckle and mild tutting from nearby. She looked up to see Lindir, Erestor and Celebdor watching her with mild amusement, shaking their heads at her.

“What?!” she snapped with mild irritation.

She still had not woken up properly and, frankly, the last thing she needed at the moment was smug elves. She strongly suspected this was smug, beautiful, ‘dear me, what ARE you doing to your hair?’ elves... which was even worse.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered. She used Sindarin so they could understand her.

Lindir came over to her, laughing. “Pen-ii, you cannot treat your hair so brutally. Here, let me.” He held out his hand for the comb.

She looked at him in astonishment, annoyance and complete embarrassment. What, was she six years old again, that she needed to be taught how to brush her own hair!

“Sod OFF, Lindir!”

Lindir was a little taken aback by this reaction. Even though he had not understood the language, the sentiment was clear enough. As if to prove a point, she yanked hard at the knot, ripping the comb through it and taking the knot with it caught on the comb’s teeth. There was wincing and hissing from the males as she did it.

“It did not hurt,” she lied, not even looking at them.

“That is beside the point,” muttered Erestor, still wincing a little.

“Leave her, Lindir,” said Celebdor. “If she wants her hair to be full of split ends and looking like a crow’s nest, let her get on with it.” Penny glared at him.

“Now, look, you,” she snapped at Celebdor, waving her comb at him. “I am not in the best of tempers when I have just woken up, as Halbarad learned to his cost. Give me thirty minutes or so and I might manage to be more civil. In the meantime, leave me and my horrible hair alone.”

Raised eyebrows, amused snickers and hands held up in apology were the response before the three males wandered off to get breakfast. Penny had been quite deliberate in who, of the three, she had directed her invective towards, though. Erestor might be a friend, but there were limits.

“Bloody elves,” muttered Penny to their retreating backs. She had a horrible suspicion that was going to become her motto for the journey.

Breakfast consisted of fruit, bread and jam, water and cram. Penny sat next to Mireth and Eleniel, her hair now presentable and tied back with a ribbon into a ponytail. She noticed Lindir and Celebdor, who were seated opposite the three, glance at her hair.

“Meet with your approval now?” she smiled. They chuckled.

“There was no need to be quite so sharp, Pen-ii. I was only trying to help.”

“Yes, Lindir, but you made me feel like a little girl. You are worse than my mother at times.” There was loud laughter from round them at that comment and Lindir, though he tried to look insulted, could not help but join in.

“My apologies, Pen-ii,” he chuckled.

“And I apologise also, but you’d best learn now that some humans, and I include myself in that, need a while to wake up before they can respond in an intelligent and pleasant way to anything more than a ‘good morning.’ In Imladris you only saw me at breakfast, after I had been awake for a while. Having you lot mothering me and sniggering over my hair when I have been barely awake five minutes I can do without, if truth be told.”

Erestor, sitting nearby them and listening, commented, “You forget, Pen-ii, we had Aragorn stay with us in Imladris from childhood. He can be very bad- tempered first thing in the morning.”

“Only when he has been drinking the night before,” Lindir pointed out.

“Which goes for most people, whether ellon or adan,” snickered Celebdor, looking pointedly at Lindir. There was much giggling in response to his comment.

“Are you saying I drink a lot?” Lindir raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“No,” smirked Celebdor. “Just more than some, perhaps.”

“More than most,” chuckled Erestor, now fully involved in the conversation. Glorfindel, seated next to him said nothing, but was clearly just as entertained by it all. Lindir glared at the Advisor, which in itself showed both how close the two were as well as how highly held Lindir was in terms of station.

“I see,” Lindir said, a smile playing on his lips, and his tone blasé. “So, we will not mention the Eryn Lasgalen ‘Dorwinion Barrel’ Escapade,’ then?”

Erestor coloured slightly and narrowed his eyes at Lindir.

“No. We will not,” he said menacingly.

There was much hilarity over this and Penny was intrigued. Erestor getting pissed enough on Dorwinion to embarrass himself? What a thought! She looked at Lindir with her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her face. Lindir caught her eye and grinned.

“Don’t you dare,” warned Erestor to Lindir, having seen the look that passed between the two.

“Now, would I, Erestor?” sniggered Lindir.

“Yes, frankly, you would,” muttered Erestor clearly very uncomfortable with the idea that Penny might be told what had occurred.

“On a scale of one to ten, Lindir,” sniggered Penny, deciding to help Erestor out, “with a ‘ten,’ perhaps, being an ellon being found naked and drunk on a river bank by the daughter of the Lord of Imladris...”

Everybody fell about at this and Lindir turned bright red.

“...What number would you give Erestor’s story?”

Penny beamed at Lindir with her sweetest smile. She loved upsetting him, though she would not have been quite so bold with her words if there had been more elves sitting with them. Since there were only a few, and they were all close friends of Lindir, she considered it safe enough. She also felt it only fair to try and defend Erestor a little. He had been so kind and was a good friend to her. Erestor was now grinning his head off and Lindir was glaring at her, though she could tell he was also trying to fight back a smile.

“Well played and well said,” was all Lindir said at last. Erestor, catching Penny’s eye, smiled broadly and nodded gratefully at her.

“Do not think I won’t try and find out what it was though, Lord Erestor,” she laughed at him. “And you elves are such gossips I am sure I will learn of it soon enough.” Erestor groaned and shook his head at her with a chuckle.

“You are getting far too familiar with us, you do know that,” said Celebdor sitting beside her, snickering.

“Well, I only treat you the way you treat me,” she replied.

It was true, as well. As formal or polite as they could be at times, elves were also gossipy, witty and endlessly teasing or playing small pranks on each other. This was as true for the adults as the youngsters; indeed there were not many elflings in Imladris. Two were nearing their majority and were more youths than children. Of the other three, only two were males and one was really quite young still at a mere eleven years old. They could be mischievous if they put their mind to it, but so far there had been no major incident that Penny was aware of that they had been party too.

It seemed that Lindir and the twins, though, had built up quite a reputation over the years.

Penny had it on good authority that Elladan and Elrohir had been particularly mischievous in their early youth, which she found hard to believe, especially given Elladan’s attitude most of the time. She had, however, seen Lindir at work on more than one occasion and thus knew what elves could be capable of. She still did not believe anyone had been quite so bold as to put colouring in Glorfindel’s shampoo, even if it did happen five hundred years ago.

“Well, it serves him right for having blond hair,” was all Lindir had said to her about it.

Penny had instantly suspected Lindir had been the main culprit and mastermind behind that particular prank. A green-haired, roaring Balrog- slayer: THAT must have been a sight to behold.

Soon enough breakfast was done, and they were loaded up and heading off once more. The scenery was much the same as it had been the previous afternoon, and indeed would change little for the two weeks it would take them to reach Hollin.

Now and then the path became very narrow, running as it did between banks of thorns, and at such times the long train would be stretched even thinner. For the first time Penny realised that ellyn were spaced out all along the train. There was also a congregation of them at the front and end of the procession, with baggages and females kept in between the two. On those occasions when they had to narrow to one or two abreast, there was an ellyn every two or three females along in the train, and those on horseback would sometimes move up and down the line to check all was well.

She asked Lindir about it.

“Well, it is standard practice. You know well that there is little to fear these days, now that Sauron has fallen. Even so, we must be careful. There are still wolves and orcs about, though it would be unusual indeed to encounter any here. Even before Sauron’s fall they were not seen in this region except in the last year before the War.” He glanced at her, and could see she found all this a little nerve-wracking and alarming. “Do not fear, Pen-ii. We know what we are doing.” He grinned. “We have been doing it for a very long time, do not forget.”

“I know. Do not think I do not. It is just I am not used to such things.”

Not for the first time Lindir wondered at this. He folded his arms, even as he sat astride his stallion and looked at her, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Do you have no enemies or wild animals where you come from, then? I find it odd that you have never travelled or seen people do so, or else that your people do not protect their own as we do here. What we are doing is no different from that which anyone would do in a large, moving company. I have even seen orcs behave in a similar fashion with prisoners: they are kept in the middle, while the strongest warriors are kept front and back or moving up and down and the line. This is standard practice, surely?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Yes, you are right,” muttered Penny hurriedly.

She hated being so close to Lindir now and him not knowing about her. There was something about him that meant he hit too near the bone sometimes, in a way that even Mireth or Eleniel did not achieve. More than once she had considered talking to Elrond or Erestor about it and asking whether they thought she could tell him about herself. Once again the thought flitted through her head.

“The practices of my people are very different. You know that. I have told you so.”

“Indeed, and yet you seem reticent to explain them. I will not press you, because it is clear it makes you uncomfortable. I am sad sometimes, though, that you feel you cannot talk to me. I had hoped we were better friends than that, Pen-ii, in truth.”

She looked at him.

“Do not say such things, Lindir. That is not fair. Really, it is not. You are my friend, and I am happy and honoured that you are. I... you see... it is difficult.” Her voice fell a little so that only he might hear her. “My life before was so strange that you would be shocked and probably disbelieve most of what I told you. Lord Elrond has advised me not to speak of it. To anyone.”

Lindir looked at her for a moment. This was not the first time she had said this to him, and he had no choice but accept it. He was one of the few who had picked up strong sensations of her strangeness, much as Legolas had done. He knew there was more to her, if only by the way she behaved: she had far more in common with elves than most humans he knew, let alone her boldness which meant she was nothing like any human female he had encountered.

“I understand, Pen-ii. Forgive me for pressing you or making you feel uncomfortable.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. To break the mood, he launched into a song and Penny listened happily enough to him sing a ballad on the beauty of Nargothrond.

After lunch, she walked for a little while, letting Eleniel ride her horse. When she climbed back into the saddle, Penny was pondering on something she had noticed. It had flashed through her mind yesterday, but she had thought perhaps it was a one-off. She had been vaguely aware of birds in the trees when they had made camp last night, but thought little of it. Now she realised it was happening again, indeed had not stopped all day.

Wherever they went, there were animals visible and nearby. Butterflies flittered past, while birds were flying overhead or else landing on bushes nearby and singing happily. Through out the day she had seen rabbits, a hare, two deer, even some voles and mice peeping through the bushes now and then, or even moving alongside them on occasion. The animals were not congregating in great numbers, nor even there continuously, but the fact that these were wild animals that seemed unafraid, curious and even happy to be so close to them meant it had to be more than coincidence. She compared this to when she had travelled with Halbarad and had seen little wildlife that she noticed.

Birds were talked to as they alighted nearby, indeed near every animal was noticed or spoken to in some way by at least one elf that walked or rode past them. A doe was standing by the path even now as they wound their way into yet another deep valley. Penny could see it ahead of her sometimes trotting along beside them all, sometimes stopping to watch as they went past. Many stopped to speak low words to the animal, patting or stroking her head, while the doe nuzzled into hands, clearly delighted and responding to the attention.

It was wonderful. Penny had no idea quite how to respond to it all, so she just enjoyed it, delighted and utterly overwhelmed by it all.

“Pen-ii!”

A voice broke through the reverie and she looked up to see Erestor had stilled his horse and was waiting for her on a sward of grass near the path they were taking. He had been riding ahead with Elrond and Glorfindel for the most part. Now, as Penny came towards him, she commanded her horse to stop beside him.

“Well, are you ready? For your lesson?”

Penny groaned. She had prayed he might have forgotten, but knew it would be too much to hope for. She had put her leggings on this morning just in case, though, and was glad she had remembered. If he thought she was going to hold a book and read from it while trying to sit sidesaddle, he had a screw loose. She got off the horse.

“Which one?” she asked him as she opened the saddlebag to get out one of the two books.

“I will leave that entirely up to you. Whichever you would prefer.”

Since she had read, or had read to her, only parts of ‘The Tale of Tuor and his Coming to Gondolin,’ she pulled that one out.

“Tuor, I think, in that case,” she said as she grabbed hold of the saddle to pull herself up.

She handed the book to Erestor to hold so she had both hands free to rearrange her skirts once astride the horse. Erestor watched her with a little amusement and raised an eyebrow at her as she turned to him at last to get the book off him.

“I am not riding sidesaddle while reading at the same time. This is dangerous enough already, as far as I am concerned. I would walk and do this except I would probably trip over and break my neck.”

Erestor laughed in response.

As they started off again, Penny felt very nervous about not holding the reins and letting the horse walk its own course even though she knew she had nothing to worry about. Apart from the superb training the horse would have had, it was entirely surrounded by the moving train and would be carried along by the momentum.

“Do not fear, Pen-ii. She will carry on whether you direct her or not,” Erestor reassured her.

“I know that, Erestor. Do not think I do not. It does not stop me from feeling anxious, though.” She took in a deep breath and decided to make a start. “Right. Where from?”

“From the beginning, naturally enough. Come along. Let us make a start.” Erestor was suddenly in tutor mode.

Penny wobbled a little, and it felt distinctly odd to be rolling along, a book in both hands. She was not sure how long she could keep this up. She had to concentrate to make out the Sindarin script and it was made all the more difficult by the movement. At one point she looked up to Erestor.

“This would be easier when I was still and on the ground, you realise. Can we do this over lunch, or early in the evenings?”

“Carry on. We will talk about this later,” was the only response.

After nearly four pages, Penny was feeling distinctly unwell. If she were not on a horse and in Middle-earth she would say she was seasick or carsick. She put the book down in her lap.

“I need to get off,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” said Erestor hurriedly, taking one look at Penny and seeing how pale she had suddenly gone. He reached over to take the book from her and they both stopped their horses as Penny got off the saddle a bit shakily.

Mireth had seen them stop. She had been walking next to Naurdir, both listening to Penny’s reading, and they came over to see what was amiss. Penny felt faintly foolish to have everyone concerned for her.

“I am well, I assure you. It was the movement. The movement and reading at the same time. I feel a little sick. Just give me a moment.” She looked at Mireth. “I will walk for a bit. Do you want to ride?”

Mireth gratefully accepted the offer, gracefully climbing into the saddle, while Penny started walking beside her. Erestor had got off his horse and walked alongside her, his stallion following without Erestor even commanding it to do so.

“My apologies Pen-ii,” he said quietly.

“Do not apologise. I am well. It was the movement while reading, that was all. It happens. Like in a boat. Perhaps I will get used to it if we do this every day. If not, then I think no more than two pages or possibly three each time. It is difficult to make out the Sindarin when the book is moving about.” She tried a faint smile.

“Of course. Well, if we ever camp early enough for there still to be good light when everything is set up and arranged, then perhaps we can follow your suggestion of reading a little when we are not on the move. There is much to be done each time we set up camp, though, so it will not always be possible.”

“Well, I am not suggesting we stop this, only that I cannot do four pages or more at a time.”

“I realise, Pen-ii.” He flashed her a smile. “I know you work hard at your Sindarin. I have told you before you have improved superbly.”

Penny smiled shyly and thanked him. Erestor spent the rest of the day walking along beside her.

After a few hours they set up camp once more, again on a valley floor, only this time the awnings were set up on a large expanse of grass beside some trees. Not as many were put up as before, Penny noticed.

“It will not rain tonight,” explained Celebdor. “Many will sleep under the stars tonight.” Penny opened her mouth in astonishment, and then mentally scolded herself for being so surprised. Of course they would be able to tell the weather in advance to a certain extent.

A nearby river tributary, a tumbling stream of fast flowing water, pooled a little behind the trees. It was declared that this was screened enough for washing. When Eleniel informed Penny of this fact her heart sank.

“It may be some time before we find another place suitable, so we might as well take advantage,” she was saying. “I for one will wash my hair, even if it does not need it, rather than wait.”

It was still relatively early and there was nearly an hour of daylight left. Erestor made no mention of reading to Penny, indeed the males seemed to have gathered themselves together in a mass of chattering groups: some cutting vegetables for cooking, others reading or laughing together, still more were playing or watching an elvish version of dominoes and one was singing.

They were leaving the females to get on with bathing, in effect.

Penny was more than alarmed when she saw six or seven ellith, armed with swords and their bows on their backs, heading towards the direction of the stream.

“Well, we still have to be careful,” Mireth said in answer to her question.

“And we certainly do not want any ellyn guarding us within sight of us!” said Arwen who had passed near them as Mireth had spoken. There was gentle laughter at that comment.

Penny, along with everyone else, was armed instead with her towel, soap and shampoo as they headed through the trees. One or two ellyn were around, with weapons, but keeping well away from the water and so out of sight. They were nearby if they were needed, though.

When they reached the water, two ellith were already there, soaping down and rinsing their hair in the water. Penny did her level best not to look. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the prospect of this. She was no prude, but she had always felt uncomfortable about stripping off in front of people. She hated having to do it at the doctor’s and she loathed having to do it at the gym. She was the one diving for a cubicle or else wrapping a towel round herself while super-fit, well-toned (and invariably ridiculously tanned) women wandered about bare-arsed in front of everyone.

Penny shuddered at the memory.

Worse than that, though, these ellith would be insanely beautiful, while she would pale in comparison. They would not judge her, but that did not make her feel any happier about this.

They were not a large group, and Penny realised that it was every elleth in her tent as well as a few others. The rest would come later in small groups, so that the bathing would take place over the next hour or so. Already dresses were being shed and females walking into the water. Penny noticed, with some relief that they did so from behind bushes nearby the water’s edge and also that they all got into the water as quickly as they could. They were comfortable with each other’s nakedness, but only to the point that this was a necessity while travelling. They were not flaunting themselves.

“If you are not comfortable, do not feel you have to join us, Pen-ii,” said a quiet voice next to her. It was Arwen, still dressed.

No, she would do this. She would not have it said that she balked at the opportunity to have a good wash and clean her hair. These things were hugely important to elves and she would not have them think less of her.

She thanked Arwen and reassured her. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the ground or her clothes as she got undressed, screening herself as best she could behind the low bushes. Then she walked, nervously, to the stream’s bank, sat on the edge and lowered herself quickly into the water.

“AAAARGH! Oh, SHIT!”

Bloody hell! It was FREEZING!

Penny was unable to move, gasping and squealing as the cold water swirled about her waist. Everyone was suddenly looking at her, worried, so all hope of washing discretely and unnoticed fled in that instant. She also immediately was aware of two of the armed ellith suddenly appearing and looking concerned.

She had not realised quite how loudly she had shouted.

That realisation and her mortification were compounded further when one of the armed elleth turned quickly to a sound behind her and three ellith already in the water in a more exposed section, sunk down to their necks with a squeal and a scowl, slowly moving to the cover of the bushes.

Clearly one or more of the armed ellyn had heard her shout and come to investigate.

Penny was mortified, freezing cold, and unable to move through embarrassment and the fact that her legs were fast going numb.

“What is it? What has happened?” Mireth and Arwen were beside her almost instantly.

“It...it... it is... c-c-cold,” she shivered. “I am... s-sorry. D-d-did not realise.”

There were sighs of relief and some laughter then. They had obviously thought she had hurt herself in some way.

“You gave us quite a fright just then,” scolded Eleniel.

“Yes, and us also,” said one of the three ellith who had moved quickly to screen themselves at the ellon’s arrival. “I am certain Anaril did not see us, but that is beside the point.”

Mireth had explained the situation to the armed elleth still standing by the bank who nodded, grinned and went off to explain to Anaril that male armed assistance to merely warm a human female was really not required. Inwardly, Penny groaned. She knew by the time she got back to the camp every one would know even if they had not heard the shout for themselves. At times she could happily curse elven hearing, let alone elvish gossipy mouths.

Washing was brief and perfunctory. By the time she tried to wash her hair Penny was shivering so much that Mireth came to help her. Eleniel was wrapped in a towel and standing on the bank for her with Penny’s own large piece of cloth as she got out, her lips blue and her teeth chattering.

They were too close to the mountains for these streams to be anything other than cold, especially as dusk was drawing near. What it would be like higher up the foothills or on the mountain pass itself, Penny dreaded to think. She was not sure if she could do this again.

They left her to dry herself off and she did so vigorously, hoping that rubbing herself hard with the cloth might get the circulation going and bring some warmth back to herself. Her entire head was numb and almost hurting her. She rubbed her hair and head hard also.

Once dressed and walking back through the little copse of trees, Arwen and Mireth reassured her.

“If they heard they will just be happy that no one was hurt, that nothing untoward happened,” said Arwen kindly. “Really, you must not concern yourself.”

“That may be true for most of them, but what about Lindir?” groaned Penny. She knew him too well to know that he would not find the entire thing hilarious. There was no answer from Arwen to that. She knew Lindir even better than Penny did, obviously, and knew Penny was right.

As soon as they came into the clearing, and had spread their cloths over the awnings to dry in the fading light, Mireth, Eleniel and Arwen insisted on dragging Penny, still looking decidedly cold and shivery, towards the fire at the centre of the group of males. They had taken a blanket from the tent and wrapped her in it for good measure. Penny let them get on with it, simply happy at the thought of getting close to the warmth of the flames.

She ignored the looks and raised eyebrows from one or two of the ellyn at her as they made their way past the seated groups to the fire. The three ellith sat with her so she was not alone beside it. She held her hands out to it, getting as close as she dared to it to warm herself.

There was soft murmuring behind her and she turned to find both Lord Elrond and Glorfindel were talking quietly with Arwen. They had glanced up at Penny and she realised they must have been asking about what had happened. Glorfindel caught her eye.

“We heard the shout,” he explained. “For a moment we were worried.”

To Penny’s astonishment Elrond laughed. “You should have seen us, Pen-ii,” he chuckled. “Ellyn flying everywhere, swords and bows being produced... You had quite an effect, even from such a distance.”

Penny could not help but smile at the idea of it, and the ellith with her were grinning. Eleniel started giggling and within seconds they were all chortling at the thought. After a minute, as the laughter died, Elrond was shaking his head.

“Ai, Pen-ii. They should have warned you the water would be cold. I trust you are now warming up again nicely next to the fire?”

“I thank you, Lord Elrond, I am fully recovered I think. I can finally feel my head once more.” Lord Elrond laughed loudly.

Lindir deliberately came to sit next to her over supper, smirking his head off.

“Oh, shut up, Lindir,” she mumbled as he opened his mouth to say something. He looked put out.

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“Oh, I am sorry, you mean you were not going to laugh at my screaming loudly at getting naked into cold water, scaring the entire male population of Imladris half to death and making them think I was being attacked by orcs as well as getting Anaril to nearly see several ellith naked?”

Lindir opened his mouth and then shut it again. He grinned.

“Well, yes I was, actually. You have surpassed yourself again. Not quite as amusing as the River Incident, but still highly entertaining nonetheless.” He paused, a gleam in his eye. “I did not know that about Anaril. He did not say anything.”

Penny groaned. That was supremely stupid of her. She should not have mentioned it, and least of all to Lindir who would now torment Anaril and the ellith concerned to their wits end.

“Don’t you dare say a word, Lindir. It was entirely my fault. If anyone is to be teased, it is me and no one else.” She was waving her spoon at him as she spoke.

“You know, Pen-ii. I think Celebdor was right,” said a soft voice behind her. She turned to find Glorfindel was walking past them. “You are getting entirely too familiar with us all if you have taken to waving spoons at the likes of Lindir.” He was grinning as he said this, clearly amused rather than actually scolding her.

“Oh, but it is only Lindir,” said Penny, grinning back at him.

There was a choking sound next to her as Celebdor tried to laugh and swallow at the same time. Lindir shook his head at her and Mireth and Eleniel giggled.

Glorfindel plonked himself on the grass between her and Lindir, stretching his long legs out while he leaned back on his hands.

“‘Only Lindir’?” He raised an eyebrow. “You do realise who you are talking about?”

Penny was suddenly aware that everyone had gone quiet. She glanced across Glorfindel at Lindir who was looking a little sheepish if amused.

“Glorfindel, don’t,” Lindir said quietly. Penny looked Glorfindel with her brows furrowed.

“He is a great and proven warrior, as well as a minstrel of some skill. There are several ballads and songs he has written that are sung in every elven city in Arda, and have even been taken West with those who have left us already.”

Penny realised that for someone of Glorfindel’s stature and history to be saying this about Lindir said a very great deal. She knew Lindir was considered high in standing already. It had taken a month or two to realise it, but she had eventually worked out that, just as Elrond’s chief advisor had been chosen to teach her Sindarin, then someone similarly close to Elrond and very high in his regard had been chosen to teach her horse-riding. No doubt because, for all his humour and teasing, he was honourable, patient and trustworthy enough to deal with this very strange and truculent guest. He was often in the company of Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel. Penny indeed felt honoured that he regarded her as a friend.

“That I did not know, but I guessed something near it.” She looked at Lindir who was flushing a little, clearly embarrassed that a jest had turned into something so much more serious suddenly. “My apologies, Lindir, I hope you know I meant nothing by my comment.”

“Of course, Pen-ii,” he said with a smile.

“I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” said Glorfindel. He was still smiling broadly Penny realised. “I find it more than amusing that you speak to him in such a way, but even more amusing that he lets you. Frankly he deserves it, and we treat him in exactly the same way as you. I am pleased you feel so at home as to scold and berate the writer of The Fall of Eregion.”

There were murmurs from the others then.

“That is his most famous piece,” Mireth explained in a whisper, leaning across Celebdor to do so.

“Yes, well, I have seen him at work in his pranks and teasing,” said Penny. “I find it hard to believe that he can remain sensible long enough to write such songs.” There was laughter from the others and an astonished, outraged gasp from Lindir.

“Right, my lady! In that case, I will subject you to one this very evening. Then we shall be the judge of whether I can be sensible or not!”

Penny was hugely pleased. She had been hoping he would say that. She beamed at him.

“I will look forward to it immensely.”

Lindir grinned at her.

So, after the meal was finished, Lindir sang for everyone. It was a lengthy ballad, accompanied by a lyre, and was beautiful from what Penny could understand of it. Clearly the rest were moved, as no one spoke or moved or did anything other than give Lindir their absolute, undivided attention. Penny felt proud (ridiculously so, she felt, given it had nothing to do with her whatsoever) that he was clearly held in such high regard for his talents.

Later that night, as they were readying themselves for bed, Penny sat on her bedroll while they chattered and laughed about the earlier incident at the river.

“You should not feel bad, we could all tell you stories about things we have done, or others,” laughed Eleniel and there was agreement from the rest.

Quickly, even as they climbed under their blankets and lay down to rest, there were quiet tales of outrageous or ridiculous things done by themselves or others in Imladris. Penny was giggling madly, since several of these stories she had not heard before.

“Tell me,” she whispered at last. “What is the Eryn Lasgalen ‘Dorwinion Barrell’ Escapade?”

There was a second’s silence before the entire tent erupted into peals of giggles.

“Oh, Elbereth, Pen-ii, Erestor would slay us if he knew we had told you,” laughed Arwen.

“But you are going to tell me, are you not?” Penny beamed in the dark.

“But of course!” replied Arwen.

Good old gossipy elves. They just could not help themselves.

Erestor had been visiting Eryn Lasgalen, or Mirkwood as it still was back then, many years before. He had been warned, indeed was well aware, of the strength of Dorwinion, and that year had been a particularly good year for the wine, it seemed. Erestor, always slightly over-confident of his own abilities (and in every other case with good reason), thought he could handle more than he should.

He got drunk. Very drunk. Nor was he the only one.

Two high-ranking lords of the court and Thranduil himself had persuaded him, in a move not dissimilar to Lindir’s drunken performance, to go for a bathe in the river. While the other three dressed and returned to the halls, Erestor, enjoying his midnight swim, said he would stay a little longer. At last he climbed out, and dozed off on the bank. He woke in the very early morning to find his clothes were gone – stolen by some Sindarin wag who had thought this a good prank.

Distraught and mortified, he could not return through the gates and down the corridors entirely naked with the likely risk of meeting elleth coming for breakfast. Instead, he chose to swim to the portcullis and managed to gain entry by attracting the attention of the one sentry there. The guard, apparently, had been astonished and very amused indeed to see the naked ambassador from Imladris appear before him. The guard, who had not stopped giggling throughout the entire episode, could not leave his post however, nor offer him anything to wear.

That was where the barrel had come in.

The bottom had been kicked out of the barrel and Erestor, holding said barrel around himself, had had to suffer the indignity of walking past various groups of elves on their way to their morning repast as he made his way hurriedly to his chambers.

To say he was mortified would not even begin to cover it.

Worse, a delegation from Caras Galathon was visiting Mirkwood also, and he was just rounding the corner to the guests’ chambers when he came upon Celeborn, Galadriel and their chief advisor.

It was said that they had never seen Erestor run so fast in his life.

A number of ellyn were still round the fire talking quietly, and could hear the loud laughter that suddenly erupted from Penny’s tent. Erestor glanced up at Elrond.

“I am not sure I want to know,” he said quietly.

“No,” chuckled Elrond. “Probably best not to, I would imagine.”

The song referred to in this fic is the traditional canticle ‘Scarborough Fair’. If you do not know the lyrics, then you will find them at the bottom of this chapter, and you may want to scroll down and read them first. I did consider using ‘Wond’ring Aloud’ by Jethro Tull, but thought that might be a little too obscure. More people are likely to have heard/heard of ‘Scarborough Fair.’

The next morning Penny found herself more or less opposite Erestor as they took breakfast. She studiously avoided looking at him because every time she did so an image of him wearing nothing but a barrel would pop into her head, and she knew she would be overcome with hysterical giggling if she did not try and contain herself.

Frankly, it showed a whole side to Erestor she had not really seen so far. He had let his hair down a little at the feast they had had at the end of the war, dancing and laughing heartily, but there had always been that element of quiet watchfulness, a slight reserve about him that she had not seen him lose completely.

The idea that he could get that drunk that he had let himself fall victim to such a prank, let alone the humiliation of being seen steaming about the corridors of Thranduil’s Halls with nothing but a few strips of wood to cover his modesty beggared belief.

It was also hilarious.

“Is there something the matter, Pen-ii?”

Erestor’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“No, no, nothing, Erestor. Why?”

“You seem a little distracted... distant, even. Have I upset you in some way?”

“What? No!” She smiled warmly. A little too warmly, perhaps, but certainly made it clear she was not upset. The very opposite, in fact.

“Ah.”

Erestor paused and looked at her. He noticed that she immediately turned her head away and was trying to bite back a smirk. He sighed. He could guess well enough what the laughter in her tent had been about. The moment Lindir had mentioned it, he knew that she would find out about it and soon. He was only surprised Lindir had not told her himself.

For most of the morning Lindir and Penny rode side by side. Invariably the conversation turned to what she had learnt the previous night. Lindir was filling in the details for her.

“Thranduil was furious one of his guests was so treated.”

“He was right to be furious. So they found the person responsible?”

Lindir grinned.

“That is a ‘no,’ then?”

“It could have been worse,” Lindir sniggered. “There might not have been any empty barrels.”

“I would prefer not to think about it, thank you.” Penny shook her head at Lindir. “Did he ever get his clothes back?”

“He found them outside his chamber door once he managed to escape Galadriel and Celeborn.”

“Well, at least he got his clothes in the end. That was kind of them.”

Penny bit back the smile and tried to look as straight-faced as possible. Lindir raised an eyebrow at her. Then they both fell into hysterics.

“It would not surprise me in the least if you knew who was responsible,” Penny snickered once their laughter had subsided a little.

“Why would I know?” Lindir’s poor attempt at outrage confirmed her suspicions.

“Because they are no doubt a kindred spirit, Lindir. I think Lady Pen-ii knows you well.”

Penny screwed her eyes tight shut and felt herself flush slightly. How long had he been within earshot?

“Forgive me, Erestor, it’s just...”

He held up his hand. “No apology needed. Trust me. I have been through this with countless others over the years.” He sighed wearily as he spoke. It was clear he had resigned himself many years ago to never living it down. “Now, if you have finished laughing at my expense, perhaps we can have a little Sindarin reading practise? Lindir, is there really nothing else you need to be doing?”

“Not right now, no.”

Erestor looked at him.

“Forgive me, my friend,” Lindir chuckled. “I will leave you and your pupil in peace.” So saying, he said a word to his horse and it obediently trotted forward down the path.

There was a few moments of awkward silence at first. Penny filled them by stopping her horse, climbing out of the saddle and getting her copy of the Fall of Gondolin from her bag. She waited for Erestor to tell her to begin reading as she asked the mare to start walking once more.

“Westron,” Erestor said at last.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You will need to learn some. We have two months’ travel ahead of us so that is more than enough time to get you to learn some basic phrases at least.”

“But I am only just able to speak Sindarin! I can not learn another language so soon!”

“Of course you can, Pen-ii. You have shown yourself to be a capable student..”

Penny noted his choice of words. She was no linguist, she had never claimed to be so, but it was still interesting that Erestor judged her against more able students he had taught in the past.

“... and it would do you well to have a little skill when faced with Westron in Rohan or Gondor. The sooner we start, the more likely it will be you might remember some basic essentials. It will not be as easy to learn for you as Sindarin was...”

‘Which was far from ‘easy’!’ Penny thought to herself. Erestor ignored the astonished snort she gave.

“...given you will not be surrounded by people speaking it all the time. Even so, it is a necessary skill if you are ever to communicate with anyone other than elves or Dunedain.”

Penny had managed to forget for a few days that there was a very real possibility she may not be returning to Rivendell. Erestor had reminded her and was correct in some ways: if she were to stay in Minas Tirith, then she needed to have the language. Something inside Penny twisted into a knot at the idea of not coming back, let alone the trepidation of being faced with a whole new culture and set of problems in Gondor. Added to which she was expected to learn a whole new language, and she knew what a hard taskmaster Erestor could be once he was in ‘teacher mode.’

‘Fan-bloody-tastic,’ she thought, witheringly.

“We shall make a start tonight. Now, continue reading, please from where we left off yesterday.”

When Erestor said a thing, he meant it. That night he started her on a few basic phrases – things that she could easily use on a regular basis amongst them all without losing her Sindarin, like please, thank you. Over the next few days, though, it became clear that Penny was going to struggle with taking on board a second language so soon. She would forget things easily, especially with no means to write them down or hear them used regularly, and the Sindarin version of a word or phrase would all too easily come to her lips instead.

Erestor realised he would be fortunate indeed if he had taught her very much at all by the time they reached Minas Tirith. Still, it needed to be done and if anyone could manage it, it was Erestor. After all he had managed to teach her Sindarin, had he not?

The days passed easily enough. The terrain changed little, as she knew it would. The only thing that did change was that as they headed ever westwards, the mountains grew steadily nearer. With each steep-sided valley they climbed in or out of by winding pathways, Penny also had the distinct impression that they were gaining altitude also. She vaguely remembered from the books it being described as a ‘bleak’ landscape, but she did not find it so. True, it was wild and rough, but it reminded her a little of holidays spent in Scotland as a child: a rugged place but with a beauty of its own. Admittedly she was seeing it in summer and without the foreknowledge of a desperate and possibly doomed journey ahead of her as Frodo had done, which probably made a huge difference.

The streams and brooks that filled the valleys became progressively more turbulent and filled with boulders as they continued on their way. Even if her first experience of ‘outdoor, communal bathing’ had not been so alarming, Penny doubted she would have braved the elements in such places. It would have meant a stand-up wash in very, very fast-running cold water, and standing barefoot on a whole lot of rocks as you did so.

No bloody way, Jose. The freezing indignity of stand-up washes behind a sheet were about as much as Penny felt she could cope with.

As it was, the times when there was sufficient cover for bathing to take place were few and far between and became less so the nearer they got to the mountains. It was at least two days more before the second time such an affair could be organised, and then, of course, it was the turn of the males amongst them.

Penny tried very, very, very hard not to think about that while it was going on. Even so, there was something vaguely unnerving about seeing groups of stunningly handsome ellyn disappearing off into the trees with towels over their shoulders. It had been bad enough getting an eyeful of bare-chests months before, and so she well enough knew how toned they were underneath their clothes.

Penny stared very hard at the vegetables she was peeling and gave them ALL her concentration. The shouts of laughter and sounds of splashes in the near distance made it a little difficult, though. She was quite grateful when one of the ellith started singing, with a few others accompanying her on lyre and flute.

Penny made slow work on her carrots. However, when the others with her had finished their piles of potatoes, leeks and parsnips, Penny refused their kind offers to help her. She was happy to have something to occupy her that didn’t involve language lessons and yet could keep her brain busy with anything other than images of naked ellyn in rivers.

Indeed, such was her determination to blank out such pictures that she was not aware that, as she finished the last of the carrots, she was quietly humming to herself. She often did so as she worked on a task such as gardening or throwing a pot. She was usually careful about doing so out of earshot of elves, though, since invariably it would be some ridiculous tune from her own time and not something she had got to know during her time in Rivendell.

“Interesting,” a voice muttered from behind her. “Simplistic, perhaps, and a little strange to my ears, but interesting nonetheless. Am I allowed to know the words too?”

Penny nearly cut herself with the knife in her hand as she practically jumped out of her skin.

Lindir laughed. “Forgive me, Pen-ii, I did not mean to startle you.”

Penny looked at him, grin plastered all over his face and his hair still wet, though already combed through. How long had he been standing there? Added to which, what did he mean...? Penny blinked at him in horror as she suddenly realised what she had been doing. She could not even remember now what tune it was that had been in her head. Something entirely unsuitable for elvish ears, anyway - that much she could say for certain.

Bugger. Bugger, damn and blast and then some.

“That is rather rude, you know, to stand behind someone without making your presence known.”

“Oh, yes?” Lindir raised an eyebrow as he came to sit next to her. “Why are you so determined that I should not know a song or two from you? It’s clear to me now after hearing that snippet that you do indeed know some, contrary to what you said to me before. But then I always suspected as much. You also have a reasonably fair voice. Not like a howling dog as you claimed. Far from it.”

He was smiling as he spoke, not berating her at all but just trying to be friendly. He could see she was not amused, though, and clearly a little uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with those carrots? You have been at them long enough. You were already halfway through them when I left for a bathe.”

“No, thank you,” Penny said a little curtly. So saying she picked up the last couple, plonked them in her lap and set to peeling.

There was a brief silence.

“I paid you a compliment just now, you know.”

“Yes, I know, and I thank you for it. You are wrong, but thank you anyway.”

“I thought you had realised the other day I am something of a musician. I do know when someone can sing a little, Pen-ii...”

“Lindir, could we stop this conversation? Please! I did not even realise I was doing anything. I was not thinking. You were not meant to hear it.”

“I realise that,” Lindir said quietly. He looked at her, his expression serious. “Will you ever explain things to me you think?”

Penny stopped what she was doing for a moment and stared at the ground. She wanted to talk to him, tell him, explain... and yet... She sighed. She nodded, though she did not look at him.

“One day. Perhaps. I want to. Believe me, I want to. Just, please... not yet. I do not even know what song I had in my head just now, I could not repeat it even if I wanted to. You would find it strange and ridiculous, and if Erestor heard the words I am sure he would be appalled.”

“Erestor has heard human songs before. Drinking songs in particular can be...” Lindir searched for the right word, “...interesting.”

Penny looked at him in amusement and astonishment.

“Pen-ii, you forget that much of the human contact we have in Rivendell is with male warriors.”

“Even so, I can hardly imagine Dunedain singing about such things! Aragorn? Halbarad? You can not be serious!”

“Well, perhaps not those two, but they will know them well enough and laugh with the rest.” Lindir shrugged. “That is how you mortals are, is it not?”

Penny suddenly realised that Lindir now thought she would not sing any of her songs because they were all filthy.

“My songs are not like that! They are just too strange for elvish ears, that is all.”

“But...”

“No, Lindir. Please. As a friend, just leave this.”

He nodded. “Very well. But I will keep pressing you. I have a song writer’s interest, you know.” He grinned as Penny groaned and shook her head. “Now, give me that knife and those carrots before Naurdir gets back; otherwise he will not be impressed.”

In that moment Penny came to a decision. She had been mulling it over for weeks now, if not a few months. Things had been coming to a head and she felt, in all conscience, she had to do something about this. Lindir was too good a friend not to.

After supper, as an ellon rather well known for his public speaking and story telling regaled them all with tales of the First Age, Penny made her way over to Elrond’s tent which he shared with Glorfindel, Erestor and one or two others. She coughed slightly and said his name from outside.

“Come, Lady Pen-ii. We are quite decent, I assure you,” Elrond’s voice came from inside.

Penny stepped through the open entrance, the flap having been rolled up and tied to one side. Glorfindel and Arwen were with him, all sharing a drink and chatting amiably.

“You do not wish to listen to the tales, Pen-ii?” Glorfindel smiled at her.

“Indeed I do, but I also need to speak to Lord Elrond about a matter that I really feel I cannot decide upon by myself.” She looked at Elrond. “I need your advice, my lord, if I am not troubling you.”

“Not at all, Penny.”

“Do you wish to speak to my father privately?” Arwen was making as if to stand and leave.

“No, no! Please, stay. Both you and Lord Glorfindel know my situation, so it is of no consequence if you stay. Indeed I would value both your opinions on this also.”

“Ah, this is why you have come to speak to me in private,” Elrond nodded and smiled softly. “I did wonder as much. Well, Pen-ii, what is it? What can I help you with?”

“Lindir.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow at her.

“I want to tell him about me, about who I am – my situation. You advised me, and I understand why you did so, that I should not speak to anyone. But Lindir is now my friend and... he asks difficult questions at times. Sometimes I think he already knows, or guesses near it, even though I know that can not be possible, but I want to tell him. I felt I should ask you first, though.”

Elrond considered for a moment. “Well, Pen-ii. The war is over and much has changed. Your knowledge was mainly of the war, was it not? I do not see why there should be any reason why you do not tell those that you wish to tell. I would advise you limit the number you inform and only relate your story if you really feel you have to. We elves have seen many things that may seem strange to others, and there is much that we can accept and believe, but your story is strange even to us.”

“I would agree with that,” Glorfindel added. “Lindir, however, is a good and noble ellon. He is wiser than his jovial demeanour can indicate at times. He is close to you and would not divulge this information to anyone, you can rest assured on that.”

“Oh, I know, Lord Glorfindel. I trust him absolutely. I would not consider speaking to him were that not the case.”

“I think my father means this is no longer his responsibility, Pen-ii. You are free to do as you choose.” Arwen smiled kindly at her. “You do not need his permission. Now the war is won, your knowledge is no longer a potential threat.”

Penny nodded but stayed quiet.

Elrond looked at her sharply. Not for the first time, he had a strong sense that she had not told him everything she knew. He had tried to press her on it a few weeks after the War had finished, but she would not be moved.

“I have my reasons. It is not easy. But then you know none of it has,” was all she had said.

Elrond had little choice, he knew, but to accept it. She would indeed have her reasons, he knew, but he wondered what he could be that was of such importance even now Sauron had fallen. Something closer to home, he suspected, though he could not be certain.

“Arwen is correct in her assessment, Pen-ii. I think Lindir deserves to know if only, as you say, because he is now a close friend of yours. I think it is a measure of how much he esteems your insistence on privacy that he has not tried to broach the subject with Glorfindel, Erestor or myself before. I feel sure he must know or suspect that we know the truth of your situation.”

“I have told him that you know, Lord Elrond.”

“Ah, then that merely proves my point.”

“I am not sure I will tell him just yet, though. It will need time... and privacy. Neither of which are easy to get here.”

“Lothlorien will be ideal,” Arwen smiled.

“That is what I was hoping.” Penny breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

And that was that. Decision made. It was as if a weight lifted a little in Penny’s mind. She went out of the tent with a slightly lighter step, or so it seemed.

“Lindir? Lindir, can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” Lindir looked up from the group of ellyn he was chatting with and beckoned her over.

“No, could we talk here?”

Lindir furrowed his brows but stood and came over to her. “What is it?”

“I have...” She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and thinking they were too close to the general company and well within earshot. “This way.” She walked away a little, towards the trees. Lindir stopped her.

“Careful. The stream is that way, and there may still be one or two ellyn having a late bathe.” He chuckled. “Seeing us washing our clothes is one thing. Seeing us washing ourselves, however...”

Penny blushed furiously while Lindir laughed, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He lead her in a different direction till they were out of earshot of the others. Even so she kept her voice low.

“Now what is so secret that you cannot speak of it in front of anyone, hmm?”

“I still can not relax or speak openly while we travel, Lindir, but I just wanted to tell you that I will talk to you in Lothlorien. I have spoken to Lord Elrond to get his advice and he agrees with me that you have a right to know. You are my friend. I want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Lindir was silent for a moment, though a smile played upon his lips. “Thank you. I realise whatever it is, it is difficult and private. It means much to me that you feel you can trust me at last.”

“It was not a matter of trust, Lindir.”

“No?”

“No. It was... It will become clear when I tell you.” She stood to head back to the others.

“Indeed?”

“Yes. So you can stop asking me to sing now.”

“Oh, no, you do not get off that easily, young lady,” Lindir laughed.

“But, Lindir...!”

“No, I have an interest. I like to hear the songs of different places and peoples. It is always fascinating. I collect such things, write them down. No, you are going to relate some of your tunes whether you like it or not.”

“Argh! You are impossible!”

Lindir just laughed.

“You are not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“No.”

Penny thumped him. Not hard, just playfully on the arm. Even so it raised an astonished laugh from Celebdor and Mireth as they joined them.

“What is this? Lindir being beaten by Lady Pen-ii? Dear me!” Celebdor was grinning like a maniac.

“She is berating me for insisting she sing for us.”

“Oh, would you? That would be wonderful!” Mireth beamed at Penny.

Penny could have happily murdered Lindir.

“No, really, I do not think...”

“Yes, please do, Pen-ii,” Celebdor was now chiming in. “It would be nice to hear something from your land. We know so little of it, after all.”

“What is this?” Erestor looked up.

“Pen-ii’s going to sing for us,” Mireth chirped.

“Is she now?” Erestor raised and eyebrow and smirked at Penny. “This will be most informative.”

Penny groaned and then glared at Lindir, who was clearly finding all of this highly entertaining.

“Really, I cannot. My voice is not good. I cannot remember...”

“Her voice is perfectly adequate,” Lindir chipped in. “And I heard her humming a tune to herself this afternoon.” He plonked himself down on the grass next to Celebdor.

“Oh, well in that case...” Celebdor agreed.

“If you feel it would be too embarrassing, Pen-ii, then do not let Lindir pressure you into doing something you would not feel comfortable doing. It would be wonderful to hear something from you, though.” Mireth was always so kind. “Even if you feel it is not of the same standard of our songs, it would be something different, something new for us. We always like that.”

Penny knew she was not getting out of this. Damn Lindir! She had been wracking her brains for suitable songs over the past weeks since Lindir had been getting more and more insistent about this. She had managed to dredge up from her memory one or two that might be suitable and had been running them over again and again in her head just in case she needed them. She had known it was simply a matter of time before she could not say ‘no’ anymore. Well, it seemed now was the time. She groaned again.

Okay, something simple. And something short.

Think, Penny! THINK!

She was only grateful that there were not too many others within the immediate vicinity, though she was well aware that even the elves on the other side of the crowd would probably be able to hear her. Thankfully there was enough chatter, singing and laughing going on that if she sang quietly enough...

“Well? We are waiting.”

“Be quiet, Lindir, I am thinking of something.”

At last she took a deep breath, prayed one last time for the ground to open up beneath her and, when it did not, started to sing. Her voice cracked a bit at first through nerves, but she just stared at the tree tops and kept going, as quietly as she dared, and sat down quickly, blushing furiously once she was done.

“Now, what was so hard about that?” Lindir said to her. “A pretty enough tune, if simple and repetitive, but then so many mortal tunes are.”

“The words are very odd, from what I could make out,” Erestor seemed a little puzzled.

“I liked it,” Mireth smiled. “And Lindir is right, your voice is quite fair.”

Penny knew Mireth was just being kind, but thanked her anyway. She could hold a tune well enough and had sung in choir in school, but compared to an elf’s singing voice she sounded like nothing on earth and ‘quite fair’ was pushing it. She noticed Celebdor said little other than smiling at her and muttering ‘well done’. Well, it was done, it was over and hopefully Lindir would leave it be for a while.

“What were the words, then?” Lindir was asking Erestor.

“It was a love song and a riddle as far as I can tell. I take it Skar Borofayr is a place? And what is ‘cambrik’? A type of cloth or a style of making clothes?”

Penny realised with some horror that Lindir was now insisting she sing it again, but provide a Sindarin translation as she went. He was suddenly in ‘professional musician’ mode. Mireth and Celebdor left them to it.

Typical! Not enough to just stand up, sing a song and sit down again. No, she needed the linguist and the songwriter poring over every damn detail!

Bloody elves!

“Look, if this is the sort of thing that is going to happen every time I sing something, then you can forget it!”

“Oh, good!” Lindir beamed. “Does that mean you are going to sing something else, then?”

“That was not what I meant!”

“Well, before you do,” Erestor interjected. “I need to know what a ‘sikel’ is...”

Are you going to Scarborough fair?
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Remember me to one who lives there;
She once was a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Without no seams, nor needlework;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to find me an acre of land
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Between the salt water and the sea strand;
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
And gather it all with a rope made of heather
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Are you going to Scarborough fair?
(Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme)
Remember me to one who lives there;
She once was a true love of mine.

Chapter 7 – “She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain”

It had taken every stubborn bone in her body (of which Penny had many) to resist Lindir and Erestor’s request for another song. In the end she had led the discussion over the meaning of the riddle-like lyrics which in turn led to a musing on mortal love in general.

‘Fickle’ seemed to be the word used by Lindir and Erestor (once Erestor had explained its meaning and Penny had managed to think of its English equivalent); that, and ‘hasty.’ Mortals are not very good at ‘controlling themselves or taking time to make the right decisions,’ she was informed.

“Dunedain are probably the exception,” Erestor had added. “Though even they can have their moments. They are mortals, after all.”

Penny was not sure if she should be offended or not. She decided not since they were being terribly matter-of-fact about it all and she knew enough about LACE from her days trawling through online discussions about the merits or otherwise of ‘History of Middle-earth’ to know how elves were different in these respects. Even so, it was a bit much.

“Lindir thought my songs would be rude.”

Erestor raised an eyebrow. “Are they not?”

“No!”

“It would make a change if they were not,” Lindir sighed slightly wearily. “Mortal love is all too often so...”

He could not think of the word and left the sentence unfinished, but Penny could tell they were less than impressed. This was nothing new, of course. She knew well enough the general opinion on humans that the elves held by now. Dunedain were invariably seen as the exception to the rule. Seeing the elves' interaction with ‘normal’ mortals in Rohan and Gondor would be quite entertaining, she decided.

“Yes, well, we cannot afford to wait a century or two before we decide if we are in love or not. Time is of the essence for us, you know, otherwise there would not be any more humans.”

They laughed then. It did make Penny realise, though, that humans, even long-lived Dunedain, would be marrying at an age that, for an elf, would still be childhood.

Deeply odd.

The next day both Arwen and Elrond made a point of laughingly scolding her for singing something of her own without their being there to hear it. Penny noted they did not ask her to repeat the song, though, and wondered if that was because of word about her ‘merely reasonable’ voice or the ‘typically simplistic’ song had preceded her.

Both, she suspected.

However, Glorfindel made a great show over breakfast of being terribly offended he had not been expressly invited to hear the performance. Penny could tell he was not being serious because his eyes were twinkling like mad and he winked at her at one point, but insisting she sing for him then and there over bread and jam was taking it a little too far, she felt. She knew he was only doing it out of a mixture of politeness and frivolity, not because he genuinely wanted to hear her warble at him.

“Not even Lindir sings this early in the morning,” she pointed out.

At which point, just to be bloody-minded, Lindir started up a jaunty ballad.

“Ai, Lindir, it is far too early for such things,” Celebdor complained, flapping his hands at Lindir for him to be quiet. “Something soothing and gentle, perhaps, but not that.”

“Like Pen-ii’s song,” beamed Glorfindel.

Penny just shook her head with a sigh.

“Stop teasing her so.” Mireth was standing up for her.

“It was a shame I missed it.” Eleniel seemed genuinely put out. “Perhaps next time?”

“If there is a next time... which there will not be.”

“Now, now, Pen-ii,” said Lindir in a warning tone. “Never say ‘never.’”

At which point Penny gave up and went to saddle her horse, leaving the sound of soft elvish laughter behind her.

The problem was that in some respects she was relaxing and feeling at home with them all at last. It meant she forgot herself on occasion. This was all very well in the comparatively private moments she had in Imladris, but on the road like this, with near enough the entire population of Imladris surrounding her twenty-four hours a day, it was difficult to remember that she should not really hum old Queen numbers or a medley of The Beatles' greatest hits to herself. Or not if she did not want them to elicit comment, anyway.

Lindir kept hearing snatches of very unelvish tunes wafting on the breeze on occasion, however. Penny would resolutely refuse to believe him when he said she had been humming, or feigned ignorance of which tune it might have been. It got to the point that Lindir started trying to make a note of the tunes anyway and repeating them back to her, much to Penny’s amusement.

Once she realised that he was only really interested in them musically, to analyse them, she relaxed about it all a bit more. In addition it was clear that no one was terribly bothered if her tunes sounded simplistic or bizarre since she was, after all, both human and foreign and therefore it was (it was made abundantly clear) only to be expected. She still point blank refused to do another public performance, though.

And so the days passed by.

Every day’s scenery was much the same as the one before, the pace leisurely and gentle. Even so they seemed to be making good ground. There was rain for a couple of days, which the elves did not seem too bothered by, but Penny found miserable in the extreme. She was very grateful for the hooded cloak she had been given before they left. It had been coated with some kind of waterproofing which did keep the worst of the rain out, but by the second day of non-stop rain she was beginning to feel decidedly damp and sniffley.

They had been travelling nearly a week and a half and Penny, sniffing constantly and feeling chilled to the bone despite it being mid-May, was sitting as close as she dared to the fire without actually catching her skirts alight.

“Have you changed that damp dress?” Eleniel was concerned.

Penny nodded. “Still feel cold, though.” She inched a bit closer to the fire.

“Any closer and you will be sitting in it, Pen-ii!” Mireth laughed. Even so she exchanged a glance with Eleniel. “Let me get some herbs, something to stave off any chill.”

Penny let them get on with it. The last thing she needed was to get ill. Mireth prepared some spicy, honeyed concoction. There was another mug of it before Penny went to sleep, and again at breakfast. Breakfast in drizzle – that was not entirely pleasant, it had to be said. The rain actually meant everyone ate in their tents or under awnings, so meals were less sociable than usual in some respects. Thankfully, the skies cleared a little and, while cloudy, at least gave Penny the opportunity to finally dry off and feel slightly more enthusiastic about travelling once more. The herbs had certainly helped. If she was grateful for nothing else, it was that she was in very capable hands being surrounded by elves. She dreaded to think what might have happened if she had been discovered by anyone other than a Dunadan or elf.

She was beginning to get footsore and saddle sore too. She had taken to using the balm Mireth had given her on her backside and thighs every night, as well as massaging it into the soles of her feet. It helped enormously, but nothing would get rid of the aches and pains completely.

‘And I still have another month and a half of this to go,’ Penny thought mournfully to herself.

The routine of the days made them pass easily enough. She was getting nowhere fast with her Westron, but she kept trying at it. The reading was enjoyable enough, though. Erestor found her slight obsession with Tuor mildly amusing and said as much to her. Penny decided it best not to mention the fact that nearly every Tolkien nut in her world had at least one male lust object or pairing they were obsessed with, and that Erestor was subject to many a fic as a consequence. Might not be wise, she felt.

Especially not given the nature of much of the Erestor fic she had come across.

“He was a great hero, Erestor,” she replied. “A mortal who was mistaken for a Noldo at first by the Gondolindrim. That says much.”

“Indeed.”

“And Ulmo spoke to him, and he married the King’s daughter, and...”

“Yes, yes, very well!” laughed Erestor. “I am not disputing his worth or his place in history.”

Erestor made a point of getting Glorfindel to talk to Penny in more detail about Tuor and what he had been like. He too found it entertaining that she seemed to hang off his every word.

“Are all those who know our stories this eager about certain characters within them?” he asked.

Penny had to think quickly. “Well, we do not have heroes like these anymore in our own time. Not in the same way,” she explained. She was grateful to be interrupted at that point by Elrond joining them accompanied by several others who did not know her story.

That had been a close call! ‘Yes, Glorfindel, I know of several people who would chew off their own leg to meet you, let alone kiss you or have their wicked way with you. There are many who are so obsessed with you that they even write...’

Actually, Penny decided, she had best not continue down that line of thought. Now she had actually met Elrond, Erestor and the twins, let alone Legolas, it did seem highly bizarre to think of them all jumping into bed with each other. Utterly preposterous and farcical, in fact, if not a little creepy. It now felt much like ‘real person fic.’ Only worse.

It suddenly occurred to her that they would all be together, along with Aragorn and Celeborn, in Minas Tirith. She blinked. Ai, slashfic writers would have had a field day in her position! She sniggered to herself. Elrond raised an eyebrow at her.

“Did I say something amusing, Pen-ii?”

“Forgive me, Lord Elrond, I was busy with my own thoughts.”

It was going to be difficult to be so free with her thoughts once she was in Gandalf’s company again, she realised. Or even with...

Oh, no!

A horrible thought crossed her mind.

Did Galadriel’s mind-reading skills transcend language? Or would it be the case that only if Penny thought in Sindarin would Galadriel be able understand it? Somehow, Penny thought not. In which case she was going to have to be really on her guard in Lothlorien.

‘Especially if Haldir and his brothers are around along with Glorfindel, Erestor, Celeborn and the rest. Gah! It’ll be like a slashfic cast list!’

That was a problem she was going to have to put away and deal with as and when confronted with it. She was not looking forward to it, though. Not at all.

After about a fortnight of travel they came to Hollin at long last. Penny was aware the mood had changed slightly, and the songs sung (as they ever were as they travelled) took on a slightly melancholy tone, even despite the war being won and the purpose of their journey.

“We cannot forget,” Eleniel explained quietly as she and Penny walked along together. “There are one or two among us who used to live in these parts. For them the memories are very fresh still. Sauron is fallen, but his works will never be forgotten.”

Penny could well believe it.

Still, it gave her a great thrill to see the ridge with its bank of tall hollies forming a sort of hedge and to know where she was. The path, though broken, had been cleared a little from how she remembered it described in the books. Already this way was being used once more, if only by the messengers sent to and from Lothlorien and Imladris. It meant things were a little easier going underfoot for such a large company with all their horses than it might have been otherwise.

The mountains had swung across their path, and the three great peaks with Caradhras at their centre loomed large now and crept ever nearer as they picked their way down the broken channels.

As Penny finished her morning reading and closed her book she glanced up to see a rabbit skitter across the path a little ahead of her. In a bush nearby birds were singing. She smiled.

“What pleases you, Pen-ii?”

“The animals.” She switched to English to keep her words private. “They were not here before. When they travelled, Aragorn said it was strange: no animals.” She kept the language simple and Erestor understood her well enough.

“Indeed, it was a sign of what was coming, of how far the darkness had spread. It was not the first time this region had seen such darkness either.”

Penny hesitated before asking, “Do you remember it?”

“I do. I prefer not to, though.”

“I understand.”

“I was not of those who lived here, but I had many friends here. Many died. Many more sailed West. I miss them greatly.”

Penny glanced at Erestor and, though she could not be sure, thought his eyes seemed to glint as though suddenly wet.

That night there were tales and songs of Eriador and its fall, of brave ellyn Penny had never heard of and their tales of heroism. Lindir sung a ballad he had composed about the life of Celebrimbor. Penny sat, transfixed, understanding if not all then more than enough to follow it all reasonably well and learn much she did not know before.

“It must be hard to carry so many memories, to see so much,” she said quietly to no one in particular.

The few sitting with her remained silent, their faces serious for a moment as if lost in thought.

“Yes, but it is the way of things,” Mireth replied at last. She smiled, a little sadly. “Your lives are all too brief, and ours seem too long at times. Especially for those that have suffered much.”

“You have Valinor. You have a place of rest. That must be some comfort.”

“It is,” Mireth agreed. “I shall look forward to sailing, to seeing old friends once more.” She paused. “But I shall miss this place I have known all my life also.”

A world without elves.

Suddenly the full realisation of that loss, of what the world would miss without them being there, hit Penny. And it would not be long, either. What, a year or so? Admittedly some would stay, but not many and even they would eventually leave or fade.

Penny looked around her, at those she had got to know so well over the past few months, who had helped her, shown her such kindness, who had become her friends, and felt desperately sad all of a sudden.

An ellon had stood once Lindir had finished. Penny recognised him as one of those she had seen sing or recite on occasion in the Hall of Fire, but she did not know his name.

“Enough of this,” he was saying. “We are forgetting the reason why we are here!”

He glanced over to where Arwen was sitting with a few of her close friends and grinned. She smiled in return and inclined her head.

“We need happier memories. Sauron razed this place, but now he himself is fallen at long last. That is cause for celebration, is it not?”

So saying, he began a love ballad and the mood was lifted at once.

Elves had a knack for lifting the mood, Penny decided with a grin.

Indeed, the next day it was as if the entire company were determined to bring back some of the past joys to the place. Songs were of an entirely different feel to the previous day’s, and there was much laughter and chatter. It did seem to brighten the place too, Penny thought, though she could just as easily have been reading too much into things.

They camped just below Caradhras that night. Penny wondered how far the entrance to Moria was from where they were but had no opportunity to ask someone. Elrond and Erestor seemed otherwise occupied, and Arwen was deep in conversation with friends. She felt a little wary to ask someone else, though it probably would not have mattered. Penny also noticed that there seemed to be fewer ellyn with them at supper and throughout the evening. Even as she was pondering on this she noticed Glorfindel was not around at all and she had hardly seen Lindir.

“Is something going on?” she asked Mireth.

“Well, this close to the mountains we need to be careful. Things have changed much, but not enough that we can assume no harm will touch us. Their master is fallen, but the minions still remain.”

‘Minions’ was a new word to Penny, but she could guess its meaning near enough. She knew that orcs and worse would still be abroad. This was the first time in their travelling that she had been so aware of it, though.

That night she made sure the pocket of the saddlebag where she kept the knife Glorfindel had insisted she be given was facing her and within reach. It was a completely pointless exercise. If something happened whereby she needed it, she knew she would be too terrified to even think of making a grab for it, let alone actually using the thing. Nevertheless, it made her feel a little safer.

‘Though frankly, with the likes of Glorfindel on guard duty tonight, that should be more than enough to make me feel safe,’ Penny reprimanded herself.

It was an earlier start than usual in the morning. They wanted to press ahead and get the pass crossed in two days if they could manage it. It would mean a late night and another early morning tomorrow also.

‘Joy,’ Penny thought, struggling to stay awake as she munched on some fruit.

She was also not looking forward to camping high on the pass overnight. It may be early summer but it would be cold, windy and very rocky up there. Probably permanent snow and cloud too.

“Even better,” she grumbled.

Dawn was still breaking as the awnings were packed away and everyone started off. The way was steep, narrow and a little difficult. Within an hour or so the company was strung out two abreast, or even single file at certain points. No one could ride. The horses were led or followed obediently as best they could over the rocks and scree.

The path wound and zigzagged its way upwards. Penny had never been mountain walking and had expected it to consist of one long walk up one long slope. She discovered this was far from being the case; rather, it was like a series of steep-sided hills. Every time you reached the top of one, you found another one waiting for you. There were times where there were occasional plateaus or connecting bridges of land, but otherwise it was uphill walking all the way.

If she had thought her feet and legs hurt before, then she had been kidding herself, she decided. By the afternoon she was finding it very hard going and had to stop every now and then to either catch her breath or rest her aching thigh and calf muscles. Penny took the opportunity to admire the spectacular views back out across Hollin and away towards the country they had travelled through.

Little waterfalls tumbled down near them, sometimes the path crossing over them on a sort of rock bridge. As they climbed higher still, the vista opened out more and Hollin and the lowlands were no longer visible. All that could be seen was peaks of ice-capped rock, piles of scree and poor attempts by scrubby plants to grow. Even the plants disappeared after a while and it was then only bare rock on all sides.

At least it meant the company could travel in groups or several abreast once more since the path was wider and flatter here, though the surface of the path was little more than loose scree. There were few markers for the path save boulders here and there that had clearly been shaped and placed along the way. Penny knew for certain she would have no hope of finding it again if she lost sight of anyone, and only a few yards from where she walked at some points there was a sheer drop of a few hundred feet at least, so if the clouds came down it could be very dangerous indeed.

There was water here, but in great, flattened channels now that seemed to consist of more boulder than water. Penny stopped to take a drink and found it was ice, ice cold. There was a chill wind blowing down the slopes from the glacier visible to her right and Penny, grateful once more for her cloak, huddled it around herself. Lanterns were lit as dusk fell and everyone packed a little closer together so as not to lose sight of each other. For a little while Penny was able to see the stars begin to show themselves as the night took hold, but all too soon the clouds began to roll in. Slowly they were surrounded by mist. In the end, with the damp cloud becoming thicker by the minute till they were walking in fog, it was decided to pitch camp and call it a night.

Supper was a perfunctory affair consisting of fruits and such things as could be eaten cold. The cold meats were finished, there was only a little cheese, and there was no fresh bread, only a sort of flattened type that kept well on journeys, but even so was a bit chewy and old by now.

There was no singing or great fire tonight, Penny noted. Instead everyone was in small groups, with individual fires lit under their awnings or near their tents. Everyone had weapons on them or near to hand. Many would not sleep tonight but be on guard. Indeed, even as Penny helped pack away some of the food, she could just make out in the mist ellyn readying themselves with bow and long knife and heading off into the dark.

It all made her incredibly nervous.

She was to discover too that sleeping on a bedroll on the bare earth is infinitely more comfortable than sleeping on a bedroll on a pile of rocks. And sharp rocks at that. As she lay under her blanket, points and edges digging into her back from all angles while she stared at the tent's roof, Penny (not for the first time on this journey) wondered what the hell she was doing.

Mireth, Eleniel and others in her tent had noticed she was awake. A song started up, and Penny was pleased since it would at least give her something else to focus on. As she did so she found herself drawn into it, somehow, so it filled her entire head. Before she knew it she was asleep and dreaming of walking green-filled forests with ellith on either side of her.

For a while all was quiet and calm.

Penny awoke with a start in the early hours. At first she was not sure what had woken her, but then she could hear the nervous whispers amongst the ellith in her tent. She sat up groggily, not entirely sure why her heart was beating so fast and she felt so nervous.

“What is it? What is happening?”

There was no immediate response, but even as Penny opened her mouth to ask once more, someone – she was not sure who it was in the dark – went over to the entrance flap and looked out. When they turned round she could see it was Arwen.

“They are readying to go after them.”

Penny blinked. Go after who? A cold fear gripped her and she was not sure she wanted to know.

Several ellith were on their feet then, slipping dresses over their slips and grabbing bows.

“If they needed more assistance, they would have asked for it,” Arwen was saying. “Let us wait and see what happens. It may be it was only a small group and easily dealt with.”

A small group? A small group of what? And why the hell was Arwen whispering?

Penny, for the first time in a very long time, was panicking.

“Erm... would someone mind terribly telling me what is...?”

“Yrch,” Mireth said. “We think.”

“Something has happened, of that we are certain. We heard movement and readying to arms.” Eleniel was pointing vaguely in the direction of the flap where Arwen was once more peering out into the gloom and then, as if she had suddenly spotted someone outside, disappeared.

Penny’s heart was in her throat. For a moment she thought she was actually going to be sick.

“Orcs? Here? But... but...”

The tremor was clear Penny's voice. Mireth came over to her and put her arm around her.

“Do not fear. They will be no match for us. There are many of us, all trained in warcraft. They will not last long. It is unlikely they will even reach us here in the camp. We have not heard the sounds of fighting, so whatever has happened is at some distance.”

The others murmured agreement, though whether this was simply to try and calm the jittery human, Penny was not sure. Even she, now she listened hard, could vaguely make out sounds. Elves tread softer than air so she could not hear footfalls, but there were occasional murmurs or the sounds of sword belts being buckled or quivers being thrown over shoulders. Within minutes, though, the sounds died away.

As they did so, Arwen came back into the tent.

“They have gone.”

“What, all of them!” Penny asked in some horror, who suddenly had visions of just the few of them left alone in their one tent in the middle of an entirely deserted camp.

“No, silly,” Mireth laughed quietly. “Just a small company will have been sent to deal with them. That should be more than enough.”

“Father says there is a strengthened guard set up around the camp. There is no need to worry for the time being. Let us try and rest,” Arwen was saying. “We have a long day’s travel ahead of us, and the sooner we can get out of the mountains, the better. If they need us to ready ourselves they will tell us so.”

“Indeed,” Eleniel murmured.

Penny was amazed they were so calm about it all. Though she could hear the hint of anxiety and concern straining their voices, they were not at the level of near hysteria she felt herself to be in. She did not want to make a fool of herself, but she felt close to tears with fright. She could feel her chest tight and her throat dry.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! This was the last thing she needed. She had hoped so much this would not happen and now... Gah, even now there were orcs, REAL orcs, somewhere nearby and about to be killed by people she knew, people who were putting their lives on the line.

'What if they got through? What if just one...? '

It was impossible, she knew. Elvish hearing and eyesight were too keen for any of the guards not to spot even one sneaking through to the camp.

'But what if there were too many? What if all of Moria emptied itself and they all come pouring out and... '

A searing cold fear, the like of which she never knew existed, gripped her. Hysteria pushed her sure knowledge of the fact that Arwen and her entourage made it perfectly safely to Minas Tirith for her wedding out of her head completely. All she could think about was that some great snarling, murderous, slavering thing would come roaring into the tent at any moment.

Penny was vaguely aware that she was whimpering slightly, her breath quickening. Mireth, her arm still round her, was rubbing her upper arm and making soothing ‘shhh, it will be alright’ noises.

Then, somewhere in the distance she heard something like a scream. It was a scream, a snarling growl and a roar all rolled into one. It almost seemed to form a word as it bounced and echoed off the bare rock of the low, small valley they were in. Then there was another, then another, and then several at once: cries of pain and fury, of pure, blind hatred.

Penny clapped her hands to ears, the panic overwhelming her and all thoughts of grabbing a knife completely forgotten as she broke down completely.

Penny could have asked about Moria easily enough without it being considered strange. The hobbits in the Shire had heard of Moria but not Mordor. But we can't expect her to remember everything or make the correct assumptions every time and she is still quite nervous about her situation.

So as not spoil to the plot, I will explain my reasoning behind the orc attack more fully at the end of the next chapter. Suffice it to say for now that, as ever, the decision to include it was not taken lightly and only after consultation with others.

Chapter 8 – "To Orc or Not To Orc"

Afterwards, when she looked back on it, Penny felt faintly ridiculous. The others had been concerned about what was happening away in the near-distance, of course (the situation had been serious, if not wholly unexpected), but, Penny scolded herself, they had coped with it without breaking down and losing all control of themselves. Her sobbing, which continued for a little while even after the few audible screams and roars of dying orcs had faded into the night, had been heard by others and Elrond had come to see if all was well.

“It is over now, Pen-ii, you need not fear. They will not come anywhere near us. It was a small group only and easily dealt with.”

This was the warrior who had faced the hordes in Mordor itself and lived to tell the tale, Penny reminded herself. What were a few measly orcs without Sauron to guide them to him? Child's play!

Penny nodded, sniffed and wiped her nose on the cloth she had in her hand - an old piece of pyjama leg, long since torn into strips and rags for sundry uses (thus following the tradition Halbarad had started). She was already beginning to feel a bit of a fool.

“I am sorry,” she muttered, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “It was just when I heard the shouts...” She winced and shuddered involuntarily.

“I understand,” Elrond was saying gently. He knew well enough how terrifying orcs could sound to those who had never heard them before, and Penny knew enough both from her prior knowledge and the tales she had since heard to know what orcs were capable of. She had every right to be scared.

“We all do," he continued. "You have never had to face such a situation before. We are… more used to such things, perhaps.”

He was being careful in the words he chose. He was well aware there was a limit to what he could say in company. He also understood, though, that hearing those cries had brought a reality into focus that she had not had to deal with since the attempted attacks on Imladris, and in some senses not even then. Then the would-be attackers had never got anywhere past the outlying boundaries, here they had been so close as to be audible.

Orcs, just as himself, Gandalf, the hobbits or even Middle-earth itself had been, were just as imagined and unreal for her. It was not simply the fear of the situation, of a possible attack, that had caused her to react like this, though that was easily reason enough. Elrond said as much, silently, to his daughter, who agreed wholeheartedly.

Soon enough, male voices were heard from outside and Elrond’s name was called. Penny recognised the voice as Glorfindel’s. Elrond excused himself and left to get the report of what had happened, reassuring Penny once more before he did so. Penny was already feeling a little better. The screams had long gone and the party sent to deal with the threat had obviously just returned.

It was close to dawn and Penny was not going to be able to go back to sleep for the small amount of time that would have been left to her before she would have had to wake for breakfast. Instead she followed the ellith's lead and washed, dressed and readied herself, though still with a bundle of nerves lodged in a knot somewhere in her stomach.

As the pale light edged its way over the ridges of the eastward side of the small valley, Penny emerged from the tent to find the mist had cleared and was clinging only to the very tops of the peaks nearby. Quite how many had gone after the orcs she was not sure, but there were many ellyn milling around, still girded for battle and chatting amiably enough as breakfast was readied. Seeing them armed and ready did little to lessen the knot in the stomach. Nor did the fact that one or two seemed to be busily cleaning and sharpening blades that had seen use or others were closely examining arrows she could see smeared with something black, as if assessing if they could be reused. Seeing them chatting, smiling and carrying on as if nothing untoward had happened did much to counteract the effect, though.

It was strange to see them like this. When Imladris had been defended, she had seen them ride off into the distance, never saw them prepare themselves immediately before or deal with their equipment immediately following an attack. Now there was an air about them, something she had not really sensed in elves before: a residual energy about them, as if winding down from something hugely energetic, demanding and hyped up.

Did elves get adrenalin rushes?

She spotted Lindir and Glorfindel seated next to each other sharing a cup of something and headed over to join them.

“Ah, Pen-ii, are you recovered from your scare?” It was friendly concern on Glorfindel's part.

“Yes, thank you. I made a bit of a fool of myself, I think.”

“Not at all,” Lindir smiled gently. “Perfectly understandable. I know you have never encountered orcs before, wherever it is you hail from.” Something in his tone hinted that such ignorance was a very strange state of affairs. Even Glorfindel glanced at him as he spoke. "Hearing them for the first time must have been a shock for you."

She nodded.

“I take it they are all...”

“Every last one,” Glorfindel grinned. “What, do you not trust us to be able to deal with a small rabble of filthy orcs!”

“I just wish I had seen the faces of the two that nearly ran into our guards,” Lindir laughed.

Those two orcs had been the advance scouting party of a group of little more than a dozen or so. The war was not long over and those beasts under the thrall of Sauron or Saruman had scattered far and wide, but the mountains were even of old a place of refuge for them. They would be hunted down and killed off one by one but it could not be done all at once; rather it would take several years. Therefore, such encounters would be inevitable for some time to come.

The two orc scouts had barely known what had hit them as silent arrows slew them instantly in the dark. Word had been then immediately sent to the camp and a party of ellyn headed off to find and deal with the rest that they then knew would be headed (albeit unwittingly) in their direction. It was not an attack. No orcs would be so foolhardy as to try and take on such a large number of elves, and certainly not with such a small group.

“It was too easy,” Lindir was saying.

“I could well believe it,” Penny replied. What was it that was said in The Hobbit? Ah, yes... “Elves can hit a bird in the eye in the dark.” She smiled.

Glorfindel grinned and nodded. As did Lindir. The way Penny had said it, though, had made it sound like she was quoting something. Lindir looked at her, curious, but said nothing.

“We have an expression from my people. If something is easy we say it is like shooting fish in a barrel.” She used the word for firing an arrow since it would have the same meaning, near enough within the context, as shooting a gun.

“That fits the situation perfectly,” Lindir beamed. “There was never any danger to us or to the camp. They had no idea we were there. And the ones that stayed alive just long enough to realise what was happening were very upset about it.”

“How can you laugh about it?” Penny was trying to follow their mood, but was finding it a little difficult. They seemed so at ease about this, so matter-of-fact. She, on the other hand, was still feeling quite jittery. Their obvious supreme self-confidence in their ability to deal with a few pesky orcs (as they seemed to think of them) was helping reassure her, though.

“They are orcs, Pen-ii. They deserve worse than death were it possible. They are animals, evil, vile things.”

“And they stink,” Lindir added.

That Penny already knew. The stench of orcs was legendary. In fact, now she looked more closely she could see the sleeves of both Glorfindel's and Lindir's tunics were still damp as if they had washed their hands thoroughly not too long ago. Even now those who had been assessing the arrows and cleaning blades were washing themselves and their equipment like there was no tomorrow.

“I know, I know.” She just found the idea of lopping the head off anything a bit difficult to take, that was all. Even if it was a baby-eating orc. “Ignore me. I get squeamish even about plucking a chicken.”

Glorfindel and Lindir laughed out loud at that.

“Ah, you are a strange one, Pen-ii,” Lindir sniggered as they headed over to where breakfast was ready at last.

After eating, as everything was being prepared for leaving, Penny had calmed down considerably. Now the threat was passed, her Tolkienite-brain and a sense of morbid curiosity were taking hold. She was seriously tempted to ask if she could go and see a dead (and thus harmless) orc. She felt in some way that only seeing would make believing. She knew it was probably a gross faux-pas, but once the idea had popped into her head it would not leave her alone.

As luck would have it, of course, Glorfindel happened to walk past her just at that moment, carrying a pack over his shoulder and, before she could stop herself, his name fell out of her mouth.

“Glorfindel?”

“Yes, Pen-ii?” He could see she had a vaguely sheepish and apologetic expression on her face and was suddenly hesitant. He wondered what on earth she might be about to say.

“This may seem a little strange, and I may regret asking this, but could I... I mean... would it be a bad idea if...? Because I have never seen... and it is hard to even believe that orcs...” She caught the expression on Glorfindel’s face as he guessed what she was talking about. “Ai, this is a bad idea, isn’t it? It's only because I know there is no danger now, and-”

“Some things are best left alone, Pen-ii. You will probably be able to make them out clearly enough from the path if you want to when we get to that point. I would advise you not to look, though. They are not a pleasant sight, and are evil creatures. Also…" he hesitated. "Seeing anything in death is not easy.” He regarded her with kind concern.

She had not thought about that. She suddenly realised she should have thought this through a bit more before she said anything. Her request must seem very strange indeed. She regretted it now. This is what came of opening her mouth before her brain was in gear. As usual.

“It was just that… It is a bit like when I needed to touch Elladan the first time I saw him.” She looked at him with furrowed brows, not sure if he would understand.

Glorfindel looked torn between mild amusement, astonishment and a little shock. "Are you comparing Elladan to an orc?" His tone was bordering on being offended.

Penny blinked.

"No. No! No, not at all!" That decided it: it was a bad idea even bringing this subject up. 'Just shut up, Penny.' "Forget I asked. Stupid idea. I am sorry."

Glorfindel shook his head slightly with an amused and bemused smile as she wandered off towards her mare, berating herself and asking what in the name of all things sacred had she been thinking. If she was honest, she did not want to see one as much as she was curious to see one. It would only scare her silly, she knew, to be confronted by something she had seen only pictures of before now. Besides which, Glorfindel had hinted the kind of state some of them would be in. One or two of the ellyn had been cleaning blades, after all. And arrows could probably do nasty things to you if they landed in your head or your eye…

Penny shuddered.

It was one aspect of this entire situation she still had not got entirely used to: that fighting and battle were part of life here. As was death. Even for immortals.

As she readied her horse, she saw Glorfindel talking to Lindir nearby him, both already astride their stallions. Glorfindel was pointing ahead along the vague outline of the path up the slope out of the valley and then gesturing vaguely in Penny's direction. As Penny climbed in the saddle, Lindir came over to her.

“You wanted to see an orc? Why in Arda would you want to do that?”

“I have never seen one. Before last night it was difficult to really understand they were…”

She trailed off, suddenly realising she did not know how to express the concept of 'real' or 'actual' as opposed to 'imagined'. She did not have the vocabulary for it. She could see Lindir understood her well enough, though.

"I should not have asked, and it is not going to happen, so stop getting upset about it."

"I am not upset about it. I just find it strange. Orcs are disgusting beasts for all sorts of reasons. They also died in battle, Penny. I am not sure you could…"

"Yes, I know," she said with some exasperation. "Glorfindel reminded me of that. I don't want to see anything. I won't see anything."

The whisper of curiosity was still muttering away in the back of her brain, though, and she was not entirely convinced that, if push came to shove, she would not be able to stop herself.

The company was moving off, heading slowly up the slight incline towards a gap between two of the low peaks that near surrounded them in a U-shape.

“Ready?”

Penny nodded. Then paused. “No.”

Lindir smiled. “Come on. Now or never.” He headed off along the scree.

Penny took a deep breath and followed.

As they neared the head of the valley, Penny could see there was a channel between two hill peaks, and as they climbed towards it she realised there was no higher ground beyond. This, then, where they had camped overnight, was the top of the pass. On the other side of these hills it was downhill all the way to the Dimrill Dale.

She could just see the forward scouts, all on horses, disappearing over the horizon a little way ahead of them. After a little while it was their turn to come to the brow of the pass, turn and start downwards a little. The path, such as it was since it was, as ever, almost impossible to make out the slight difference in the loose stones of the path from those that surrounded it, bent slightly to the right, hugging the curve of the hill. On the left, a few yards away, a deep chasm opened up that slowly formed a cliff-sided valley, along the top of which the path travelled for a little distance.

As they headed along the vague outline of the track, Penny could see some of those ahead of them among the company pointing something out towards their left, others turning away with looks of disgust, still others making a deliberate point of not looking in that direction at all.

Penny blinked at them.

"They are down the cliff?"

“Well, we didn’t want them fouling the pass,” Lindir explained. “Dead orcs are just as revolting as live ones even if not nearly as dangerous.”

That must have been hard (and smelly) work, Penny realised, pushing them off the edge. Now she understood better the furious washing of hands that had been going on back at the camp. She glanced towards where someone was pointing but turned away again nearly as quickly. 'What the hell are you doing, Penny?' Curiosity was kicking in, though, despite what her brain was screaming at her. Without even realising what she was doing, she slowed the horse to a stand still.

"Pen-ii, I thought you said…"

Lindir's voice died away as he realised she was not really listening. She was clearly lost within herself, no doubt debating the merits or otherwise of looking and yet obviously unable to resist the temptation to do so. Lindir sighed and shook his head. Well, if she was that determined to see one…

"Over there," he said at last, quietly, pointing out one that was separate from the rest and had little obvious 'damage'.

Penny looked. There were great boulders littering the sides of the cliff slope and she realised Lindir had pointed towards a blackish lump lying near one. She could not make it out properly and, fixated, as if drawn, she slowly slid out of the saddle and nervously walked a little closer to the edge.

Lindir immediately jumped down from his horse to join her. At least that way he could catch her before she fell off the cliff if she passed out, he decided. Penny's propensity for histrionics had become legendary in those first few weeks she had been in Imladris.

Even as Penny looked at it to try and make sense of the shape of it she heard a voice behind her.

“Oh, Pen-ii, don’t! They are too vile! Why spoil the day’s travel with memories of those things in your head!”

Eleniel had a point.

“Oh, are they here?” Penny glanced to her right to see Mireth and Celebdor standing side by side. Mireth was trying to pull Celebdor away from the cliff edge. “Oh, yes! I see one! Disgusting creatures!” The sneering loathing in Celebdor's tone spoke volumes. "Do not look, my dear," he added to Mireth.

“Urgh, I do not intend to,” Mireth grimaced. “Come on!”

She finally succeeded in getting Celebdor to turn around and they headed off down the path together. However, Mireth, glancing over her shoulder to see Penny now looking over the edge herself, gestured for Celebdor to carry on without her and made her way back to join Eleniel.

Penny was staring in disbelief as she let the image sink in. She could see the sallow skin, the jaw hanging, its mouth agape and showing a set of teeth that were broken, twisted and, apart from those that were rotting, clearly sharp enough to give a very nasty bite. The colour of the skin was a greenish yellow, gnarled and warty. The hands, claw-like in some respects, were clutched to its chest from which protruded three large arrows. The clothes or armour it was wearing were hard to make out but seemed to be a combination of metal and leather.

It was like the stuff of nightmares and the most hideous thing she had ever seen in her life. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, her skin break out into goose pimples, the knot in her stomach come back with a vengeance…

She could not take her eyes off it.

“An orc. A real, live orc,” she was murmuring. She blinked. “Okay, a real, dead orc, but still...”

'She’s muttering in her own tongue,' Lindir smirked to himself. 'Can only be a bad thing.' He was just pleased she was not throwing forty fits at the sight of it.

“Seen enough, Pen-ii? We should move on.”

Penny nodded and made to go. As she did so a group of ellyn nearby, one telling how they had ambushed the orcs from the rise of the hill to the right even as the orcs had been climbing up the pass, pointed directly below them in a different direction to the orc Penny had seen.

“One or two fell off without us having to push the bodies over,” he was saying. “The force of several arrow hits at once saved us some work, even if it did mean we lost a few arrows in the process.”

Penny, without thinking, glanced down to where he had indicated.

“No, Pen-ii!”

Lindir actually caught hold of her and tried turning her away, but it was too late. The pile of orcs, while mostly consisting of whole ones, was still a revolting sight. One or two had been cut open in the fight, one had lost its head, and the rest had arrows in places arrows should not go or else gaping wounds where arrows had been ripped out. In the snapshot glance Penny got of it all, her brain picked out only the worst of it: it seemed as if only a mess of body parts, innards and grotesque faces frozen in their death throes stared up at her.

She gagged, fell to her knees and immediately lost her breakfast.

Lindir crouched beside her as she recovered herself and gave her a water sac to drink from. Penny took a few sips and then, as he rested a hand on her shoulder with a look of concern, turned to him with a sob, burying her head against his chest. Lindir let her hold him, bringing one arm round to pat her head.

“I did not mean for you to see that,” Lindir said quietly to her. “I am sorry.”

He shook his head with a sigh. He had quite deliberately pointed to an entire orc well away from the rest of them. He had known full well she would not be able to deal with the sight of the battle-butchered ones. When she had joked to them about being squeamish even plucking chickens, she had not been far from the truth.

Eleniel, meanwhile, was busy scolding him.

“What were you thinking, showing her such things? Poor Pen-ii, she is entirely unused to it. Quite right too! It is not as if we in Imladris see orcs on a regular basis either, let alone ones that have been cut to pieces. It is all too revolting!”

Penny groaned as she heard the phrase 'cut to pieces,' feeling her stomach lurch. She pushed herself free from Lindir even as he protested his innocence.

“Curiosity is not always a good thing,” Mireth was saying gently to Penny. “Come on, up you get. Have another sip of water.”

“I am fine. Really.”

She headed back to her horse a little shakily. Gah, she should have listened to Glorfindel and Lindir. There was no way she was getting that image out of her head now.

“No, I would advise walking. The exercise and air will help clear your head.” Mireth was taking charge of the situation. Penny nodded dumbly.

Lindir and Eleniel were having a ‘discussion’ about the merits and wisdom (or otherwise) of his having ‘allowed’ Penny to see such a thing.

“Oh, stop it, you two! It was not Lindir’s fault, it was mine.”

“Exactly,” Lindir said in a vindicated tone. “Thank you, Pen-ii. You see, Eleniel?”

“No, Pen-ii, you could not have known what a revolting sight was down there...”

“Ai, could we PLEASE stop talking about it? I will be sick again. I would prefer to forget it!”

“Yes, Eleniel, stop talking about it!”

“I am not the one that allowed her see it, Lindir!”

Penny could not forget it, though, even once the bickering had stopped (and it only did in the end after Mireth's patience finally snapped and she told Lindir and Eleniel in no uncertain terms what she thought of the pair of them), and for the entire rest of the day Penny was subdued. She barely ate anything at lunch, just nibbled on some fruit and that was it. In some ways it was probably no bad thing she had seen the mess of butchered orcs since that provided an excuse. She would have been subdued and a little freaked out even if she had seen nothing but that fairly ‘pristine’ (if you could ever use such a word about an orc) body Lindir had pointed out.

Orcs. Real orcs. She had seen real orcs. REAL ORCS!

It was like a tape on a loop going round her head over and over. Interjected with images that outdid any horror movie you could think of, of course. Gah, she knew she would have nightmares tonight, she was convinced of it.

“I hear you had a bit of scare both last night and then again this morning?” Erestor said as he finally caught up with her for the day’s reading lesson.

“Well, the second was more shock. And entirely my own fault. Glorfindel and Lindir tried to stop me.”

Erestor nodded.

“Must have been strange for you to see them in the flesh.”

Again the careful wording, just like Elrond in the early hours – hinting at so much more, at the common understanding between them.

“It was. Very strange. Though if I am honest I am surprised I am not more affected by it.”

“Are you not?”

“No. Well, yes, in some ways, but not like...” She hesitated before glanced at Erestor, riding alongside her. “Not like before.”

Indeed: no screaming, wailing, sobbing, self-harm… Halbarad would have been impressed.

“You are more used to your surroundings. This bodes well for the journey ahead.”

Penny nodded. It did. She had not thought of that. But then she had already managed quite well with the fact that she was wandering about over Caradhras, that somewhere on one of these peaks nearby a Balrog was killed. She glanced behind her and upwards as she thought of it. Erestor followed her gaze.

“It is a famous mountain,” she explained. “I still can not quite believe I am journeying over it.”

“Indeed,” Erestor smiled. “Now, are you up to reading do you think? Or shall we review your Westron vocabulary?”

Penny groaned at the mere mention of it.

Which was a bad move since Erestor then opted for the Westron quite deliberately.

The way down the mountain was much the same as the way up it, though easier on the legs. The horses found it a little harder going, especially over the loose rocks higher up. Thus the journey was a little slower at first as the elves took care that their animals did not stumble.

Eventually greenery started to appear once more, and little rivulets slowly grew to streams and waterfalls that splashed their way down the mountainside with them. Parts of the way were forested, providing welcome shade from what was turning out to be a sunny day.

At one point, breaking out from trees into the open once more, Penny could see the valley below, the dark spear-shaped waters glinting between the two arms of peaks that formed the Dimril Dale. She gasped, unable to take in what she was seeing.

Seeing her reaction, Erestor pointed out where the Eastern entrance to Moria was, away and down a little to his left. Penny looked but could not make out any door or gap in the rock. It was too far away and the dwarves had crafted it too well.

Instead she peered into the distance to the south-east now that the countryside was visible for several miles ahead. She thought she could faintly make out a flush of darker green in the distance. She pointed at it, just as it was lost from view as the path turned once more and down into a cleft between two rock faces.

“Was that...?”

“Yes, Pen-ii. We will be there by tonight or tomorrow I suspect.”

Penny suddenly felt sick with excitement and apprehension in equal measure.

As has been explained in the chapter: Sauron's fall did not mean the end of all his forces by any means. JRRT himself said they scattered and would never rise again, but they were still around and it would take time for them to die or be killed. Even Moria would be repopulated by dwarves (given comments in HoME as well as Gandalf's statement in the Chamber of Mazarbul that the time to reclaim had 'not yet' come) but there were a lot of nasties to get rid of first. Thus this encounter with orcs is entirely feasible if not to be expected.

Chapter 9 - "A Bridge Too Far"

They made good time down the east side of Caradhras.

The last few hours on the mountainside were spent winding down a steep cut channel to the north of Moria and at the very top of the Dimrill Dale. Penny realised that at some point just after lunch, pretty soon after Erestor had pointed out the entrance to Moria, they must have crossed over the top of it without her even realising.

The streams and rivulets were combining to form waterfall after waterfall and the music for the afternoon was the loud splashing and roaring of the water tumbling down the side of the path more than the songs being sung. There were times when the songs could not be heard, even if Penny knew the singer had not stopped his tune. The path, cut deep into the rock and a little steep at times, zigzagged crazily, with large, low steps carved into it. They were clearly ancient and well-worn. The sharp turns had to be negotiated a little carefully at times with the horses, but were necessary due to the wall of water from the never-ending series of waterfalls to one side. Back and forth, towards the water and away from it, they snaked their way down into the shaded tip of the dale.

It was mid-afternoon when at last Penny found herself, still with Erestor beside her, riding beside the Mirrormere, her heart thumping as her knowledge of where she was, and the significance of the place, suddenly hit home.

This was the part of the journey she had most looked forward to: seeing all these places she had heard so much about. Of course she had known about the great battle in front of Moria's gates before she had come here, about the huge numbers of dead dwarves that had been burnt to save their bodies from the hordes of orcs since there had been no time to bury them and the numbers were too great to carry them home. A thing of honour, it had become, for a dwarf to say of a relative that he had been 'a burnt dwarf.' Then in Imladris, Erestor had read passages out to her from his histories about it all, about Durin, about Eregion, about the time when dwarves and elves were at peace and happy: before Durin's Bane was awoken and before Sauron burnt Eregion to the ground. The details made seeing this place at last all the more poignant.

She was so lost in her reverie, she did not even notice the worn path to her right as it joined the one she was travelling on. It was only as she trotted past a tall, broken standing stone, runes visible on it through the moss, that she suddenly realised where she might be. She glanced behind her to try and catch sight of the path, but it was already lost from view.

"What are you searching for?" Erestor asked quietly.

"Where they came down from Moria," she replied in English.

Erestor nodded but said nothing.

Penny wanted to stop and look in the water, to see what she might see there. It was a thing of wonder, Kheled-zâram, but there was no stopping to appreciate it more fully. The cool, dark water lay undisturbed, not to be troubled by the gaze of a foolish mortal girl with more knowledge than sense half the time. Even though they had made good time, Penny could sense that the pace was not lessening any. It was clear they wanted to make it to the relative safety of Lothlorien by nightfall, out of the gaze of any orc poking its nose out of Moria's gates. Their traverse across the mountains would not have gone unnoticed, even despite the business during the night. This was not the time to pause and indulge Penny's whims, and she knew better than to ask.

Instead she contented herself with watching the tips of the mountains roll by, reflected in the deep blue water, as they followed the path downhill and between the two arms of peaks on either side of them.

As they finally left the dale behind them, Penny glanced back to see the afternoon sun making Caradhras glow. She had to stop herself from pinching herself. There were times when the surrealism of her situation struck home hard. This was one of those times.

Even as she turned back to face the direction they were travelling, it struck her once more as the well of water from where the Celebrant sprung was pointed out to her. Ahead, the track led down into the valley that opened before her and in the distance could be clearly seen a band of dark green.

Lothlorien.

Quite why Penny was so nervous she was not entirely sure. She was desperate to see it, to actually see what it all looked like. At the same time she was worried about meeting Galadriel and she had not really got it clear in her head why this should be. She remembered back in the darkest days when she had first arrived in Imladris there had been some talk about how Galadriel should meet this weird phenomenon that Halbarad had dragged, weeping and wailing, to see Elrond, and that it would happen as soon as circumstances allowed.

Now that circumstances did allow, Penny was not looking forward to it in the slightest.

The pace was kept brisk even though they were out of sight of Moria. If anything it quickened still further a little now that journeying was easier both on horse and foot. Celebrant trickled along beside them to their left, growing into a steady stream, wider and faster as they got nearer to the treeline.

The songs had changed, Penny noted. One or two were now in a language she did not understand. She asked Mireth about it (Erestor having left her to join Elrond and Arwen somewhere further ahead) who explained these were songs in one of the Silvan dialects.

"While Sindarin is our main language in Imladris, some among us are of Silvan descent and know one or several varieties of the language."

'And just when I thought dealing with two languages at once was bad enough,' Penny thought to herself, despairingly.

The songs sung in Sindarin were joined in by many, though. Penny understood enough to know they were tales of the beauty of Lothlorien, some had sections in them where Galadriel's name was mentioned a good few times. One bright spark even started up a ballad about Doriath, clearly showing that Lothlorien was nearest thing in existence to the beauty that had been Doriath as far as the elves were concerned.

It was nearing early evening when they reached the trees. The songs tailed off into silence as they passed by stumps of relatively recently felled trees, most blackened from fire. Indeed there was an entire swathe of forest just to their right that in the quickening gloom seemed to be nothing but the charred remains of trees, the ground black and ashen. Even so, grass was reclaiming its hold, and weeds and summer flowers, their petals closing for the night, could be seen here and there even amongst the sooty remnants of battle.

Mirkwood had been burnt and badly, Penny knew. Even if she had not told Elrond as much, the messengers that had criss-crossed Middle-earth since the war brought him the same news. However, it seemed that, while Lothlorien had not suffered nearly as badly in that respect, it had still not been left unscathed. Fighting had been fierce. Many had fallen. There were some who were travelling to Lothlorien with Penny hoping to meet friends long unseen and who would not find them again on this side of the sea.

Soon enough, though, they were out of sight of any burnt or butchered trees and crossing the Nimrodel. Penny could hear the falls splashing somewhere to her left in the ever-increasing gloom. The songs had started up once more and the mood lifted. Many got off their horses and waded through the water, little more than ankle or shin deep at that point. Penny had little choice, given Eleniel was riding her mare, but Eleniel did get out of the saddle to join Penny, Mireth and Celebdor as they crossed on foot together.

It was cold but refreshing. Penny took her boots off and then regretted it because she could not feel her toes well enough to put them back on quickly afterwards, but at least she did not feel quite as tired as she had done before.

As it turned out, there was a slight hiatus on the other side of the Nimrodel, so she did not in fact delay anyone as she feared she might. Penny at first assumed it was due to some putting their boots back on (those that had bothered to take them off – not everyone had), or else others climbing back onto their horses.

It was only as murmurs, laughs and greetings filtered through to her that she realised something else was going on. Glancing up she saw, a little distance away, a group of ten or so ellyn she did not recognise busily greeting Elrond, bowing low to him, Glorfindel, Erestor and Arwen. A few then moved through some of the crowd nearby, smiling at the occasional face they recognised. Snatches of an unfamiliar language, though clearly elvish, could be heard.

"Ooh, my first sight of Galadhrim," Penny muttered, grinning. "I wonder if any of them are Haldir or his brothers. Probably not."

It did not seem like she would find out any time soon either since no sooner were the greetings made than they set off again, this time with the welcoming committee leading the way. Night was falling and already under the trees it was very dark so lamps were now lit, little flecks of light slowly growing in number in the gloom as one candle lit another all the way along the group.

Penny was vaguely aware that the trees were getting bigger as she walked along beside Mireth. She did not have time to stop and stare, but the size of the trunks (as best she could make out in the shadows) were definitely getting wider.

Mellyrn.

Had to be.

A thrill went through her just to think about it. She was vaguely aware she was grinning inanely. She strained her eyes in the darkness, peering ahead to see if she could distinguish the Galadhrim, dressed all in grey, from the others, but they were too far ahead of her, lost amongst the twinkle of lamps winding in and out of the trees somewhere.

It did not take long for them to reach the Celebrant, now swollen to a small river or large stream (depending on your point of view). There was no permanent means of crossing established as yet: the war was won but it was early days yet to be building bridges. Moria was still chock-full of orcs for a start.

Where they grouped on the southern bank the trees thinned a little on either side of the water, allowing the starlight to filter down to them. Penny watched as the Galadhrim threw ropes across to others who had appeared from the dark on the other side of the river and secured them to trees on either side. It was not long before two or three single ropes provided a means for those on foot to cross. Penny gaped in awe as various elves quickly began to cross at speed, near running across the ropes. It was her first taste of elvish acrobatics.

Mireth saw the expression on her face and laughed.

"I suggest you go by horse, Pen-ii."

She pointed at those already urging their horses into the water, which foamed and swirled around the horses' legs at about knee height.

"Do not fear! I have no intention of attempting that." Penny pointed as Naurdir effortlessly sped across, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be doing. "Not even in daylight, let alone in the dark!"

She shook her head at him, now grinning at her from the other side of the river.

Mad. Completely and utterly bonkers.

"You can cross with me," Eleniel said to her. Indeed most of those on horseback had offered places to others and nearly every horse now had two if not three riders on its back. It would make the crossing that much quicker, given how many of them there were.

"You are sure you will not attempt it?" Celebdor asked, trying to look serious. "You are not scared of a tiny piece of rope, are you?"

"No, I am scared of falling off a tiny piece rope. In fact, that is the point: it is a TINY piece of rope. All very well for elves to go dancing about on it, but not me. No, thank you."

"Oh, come on, Pen-ii," Celebdor grinned, grabbing Penny by the wrist and attempting to drag her towards the riverbank. "It is easy enough!"

"Oh, stop it!" Mireth laughed, even as Penny struggled against his hold. "Leave her alone! Stop teasing her!"

"Yes, stop teasing me, Celebdor!"

"Is there a problem?" Lindir stopped his stallion beside them, one eyebrow raised and a faint smile on his face.

"Yes, Celebdor thinks I should fall into the Celebrant," smirked Penny, finally wriggling free of him.

"No, I do not!"

Celebdor did 'injured innocence' very well.

"You want me to fall off a rope and into a river! I do not think that is very friendly."

Mireth laughed. "She has a point."

"Who says you will fall?" Lindir was grinning. "You may surprise yourself."

"Oh, not you as well," Penny muttered.

"What was that?" Lindir was already off his horse, sharing a glance and grin with Celebdor.

"Nothing." Penny turned to climb up beside Eleniel, grasping hold of the saddle to pull herself up. "Now if you will excuse-ARGH!"

Lindir grabbed her under her arms and Celebdor caught hold of her ankles. Sniggering like schoolboys, they ran towards the nearest rope with her. Mireth was calling out for them to stop but laughing too hard to make herself particularly coherent. Eleniel just watched in astonishment.

"What are you doing?!" she cried before collapsing into giggles.

Penny was wriggling like mad and screeching like a banshee. She had lapsed into English in her fury, which was probably no bad thing given the names she was using for Lindir and Celebdor at that precise moment.

"PUT ME DOWN!"

"No. And if you do not stop wriggling, you will land in the Celebrant," chortled Lindir.

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"

"I beg to differ," grinned Celebdor, turning to give a quick wave to the group of elves now forming on the opposite side of the bank to watch the proceedings with an amused air. As he made to step backwards onto the bridge, he paused. "Pen-ii, stop moving. You do not want to get wet, I am sure."

Penny went as stiff as a board in fright. She whimpered, screwed her eyes shut and muttered expletives under her breath.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then she felt herself being lowered gently to the ground to sound of laughter.

"Ai, Pen-ii, as if we would do that to you."

"Not that we could not do it, but I do not trust you to not start wriggling and squealing halfway across," Lindir sniggered. "You landing in the river is one thing. Taking Celebdor and myself with you is something else entirely."

Penny coloured the air blue. The phrase 'bloody elves' (with notable additions) was used rather excessively.

"Do I want a translation of all that?" Lindir asked, one eyebrow raised and a faint smirk still on his face.

"It would give me great pleasure. Unfortunately I do not have the vocabulary."

"Ah," said Celebdor. He caught Lindir's eye and the pair broke into hysterical sniggering.

Penny narrowed her eyes at them.

"Argh! I give up!"

She stomped over to Eleniel, hauled herself up into the saddle and pointedly looked in the opposite direction from Lindir and Celebdor, now trying to make apologies in between grins and snickering.

Penny noticed Eleniel was making strange spluttering noises.

"Et tu, Brute?" she murmured.

"Do not be upset, Pen-ii. They meant no harm by it. And the expression on your face was priceless!" Eleniel was giggling, but kindly.

"When you have quite finished the fun and games," a quiet yet clearly amused voice said on Penny's right, "Do you think we could actually cross the river, hmm?"

"Of course, Erestor. My apologies," Eleniel murmured, muttering to the horse and moving forward towards the Celebrant.

Penny glanced at Erestor and could see a smile playing on his lips and his eyes twinkling in the dark. He clearly caught her look and his face broke into a grin. Before she could say anything he moved off towards Lindir and Celebdor.

"Ai, you two…!" he chuckled.

Laughter met his words.

With many sharing horses and others able to quickly run across the ropes, crossing the river did not take too long at all. Those who had led the crossing did not wait but carried on into the trees a little way before stopping and setting up camp for the night. With the numbers involved it was easier to use awnings than try and house people in the few talans round about. Also, now they had crossed the Celebrant, there was no concern about sleeping on the ground. It was why they had risen so early and pushed so hard all day: to get this far and within the safety of Lothlorien's borders.

Not all of the Galadhrim who had greeted the party were still with them since some had stayed on the south side of the river and had returned to guard duty on the borders. However, their numbers had been replaced if not swelled by those who had been waiting on the northern side. Penny was not entirely sure how many, but at least twenty Galadhrim seemed to be with them now. They showed great respect to Elrond, Arwen, Glorfindel and Erestor. Lindir they seemed to know also, inclining their heads and murmuring greetings towards him.

As the evening meal was prepared and everyone grouped round the fire, Penny watched as these new faces shared stories, sang songs, swapped jokes and generally made themselves at home. She was completely ignored. The few times one or two of them noticed her, their gazes slid over her with a mild curiosity, if that, and then moved on. Penny was a little surprised her being among them all did not excite more comment, but thought little of it as she ate. Afterwards she was to discover her presence had already been 'explained.'

Lindir introduced her to two or three of those he knew, explaining it was many years since he was last in Lothlorien and that several of the Galadhrim with them were all youngsters he had not met before.

"And by 'youngsters' you mean?"

"Well, the youngest here is six hundred or so," one of the Galadhrim replied. His tone was merely polite.

"You speak Sindarin?" another asked her.

"I have learnt it at Imladris, yes. I make mistakes and am still learning, but-"

"That was gracious of Lord Elrond to gift you with our language. It is an honour for you."

"I realise that. I am most grateful for-"

"You say she lost her memory, Lindir?"

"Indeed. One of the Dunedain found her. Halbarad?"

They shook their heads, they did not know him.

"He is a kinsman of Estel's."

Ah, him they knew. Of course.

"He found her and brought her to Imladris."

'Yes, I am standing right here!' Penny fumed inside her head.

"And he allowed her to stay? Lord Elrond is indeed most kind."

"Yes, he is," Penny tried to interrupt, but got no further.

"So she has no idea where she comes from? How extraordinary. The poor child."

"Excuse me, I am not a ch-"

Lindir's glare silenced Penny instantly.

"Humans are so frail," one of the Galadhrim mused. "I do pity them at times."

Penny raised an eyebrow, opened her mouth to say something, saw Lindir looking at her and said nothing.

"It must have been very hard for you." One of the Galadhrim finally addressed her directly. His tone was kindly but pitying, as if talking to an injured infant.

"It was. The elves of Imladris have shown much patience and kindness. I can never repay them."

The Galadhrim responded as if that was only to be expected, right and proper – not simply that she would have been shown kindness, but that obviously, as a mere mortal, of course she could never hope to repay them. They clearly thought it mildly amusing that she even hoped she could.

Penny knew elves could be sniffy about mortals. She had had some impression to that effect from several in Imladris who were never unkind towards her but at times a little indifferent. The isolation of Lothlorien bred that sentiment all the stronger, it would seem, as the Galadhrim continued to discuss her story with Lindir over the top of her head.

The thing was… she could tell they were not being rude, were not doing it deliberately. They were kind, courteous, even made sure she had enough to eat and drink, but at the same time she was merely a mortal and not nearly as important or interesting as anyone else there. No sooner had her history (such as it was) been established than the conversation moved on to other matters and she was entirely forgotten once more.

Later in the evening Lindir managed to talk quietly to her.

"You have to forgive them if they seem a little… distant."

"Try 'rude' or 'condescending,' Lindir."

"Now, that is unfair. They were very kind to you…"

"They discussed me with you! I was standing right there and they were talking to you not me!"

"Well, they know me. And besides, you had just said your Sindarin was not perfect."

Penny gave him a 'look'.

"They meant nothing by it," he smiled. "They are unused to mortals here. Ah, you are young. You would not understand."

Penny glared at him. Clearly it was catching whatever it was. She was aware they were likely to be staying here a week or thereabouts, but if she was going to be the 'idiot child' (i.e. stupid mortal) for the duration there may be hell to pay at some point. She was 'due' in a day or two too, which would not help her tolerance levels one iota.

Gah, this was going to be a nightmare, she could feel it in her waters.

"Bloody elves," she muttered as she headed over to her tent.

"You are going to have to translate that phrase for me sometime, you know," Lindir grinned at her retreating back, getting only a 'hrumpf' by way of response.

Lindir knew well enough the phrase in question was not flattering if only by virtue of the fact that it was always said in her own tongue and only when she was supremely irritated by something. Frankly, he dreaded to think but considered it could not be much worse than some of the things he had been called in his time. Glorfindel had been particularly inventive in his insults after the hair-dying incident, after all, since he (like Penny herself and everyone else) had guessed it was Lindir who had been responsible even though nothing had ever been proved.

He chuckled to himself, and then took in a deep breath as he headed back to the fire and company. Ai, it was good to be back in Lothlorien once more.

"Lindir?"

Lindir glanced towards Lord Elrond to see Erestor with him and the two sitting a little apart from the rest.

"Might I have a word?"

"Of course." Elrond stepped over to them, gladly accepting Erestor's offer of a cup of wine.

"That was a cruel trick you played on Lady Pen-ii today," Elrond chuckled. "You and Celebdor should be ashamed."

"Oh, nonsense!" Lindir laughed. "She is used to us by now. She would do much the same to us in return if she felt she could."

"Indeed?" Erestor raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think you may be right, there, Lindir. She is something of a 'free spirit' compared to most mortals."

Lindir said nothing but his face spoke volumes.

"I just wanted to ask you not to do too much to bring her to attention again, Lindir," Elrond said quietly. "Her presence amongst us was questioned by the border guards and they seemed a little concerned when they realised she was a stranger even to us in some respects. They have accepted though that she is travelling with us, is known to us as trustworthy… My word is enough, thankfully."

"I am surprised Lady Galadriel did not warn them a mortal…"

"She did," Erestor interrupted, "but said little more than that. It may be that Galadriel did not want to bring too much attention to her either. She has not yet met Pen-ii, after all. She only has the few reports we have sent her."

Lindir looked at them. Galadriel had been sent information about Pen-ii? Why? Was it thought she perhaps could shed some light on who she was? Did they even know?

Penny knew. Lindir had sensed that very early on: Penny knew exactly who she was and where she came from.

"For the time being, we would like her to go as unnoticed as possible, though that is a little difficult given she is the only mortal amongst us," Elrond continued. "Once she and Galadriel have spoken it may be things will change. Ultimately it is down to Pen-ii, not us, as to what she may wish to have said about her."

Lindir was silent for a moment. "I take it you know she has spoken to me, then? Hinted there is more-"

Erestor held up a hand, instructing Lindir to stop talking, as he glanced over Lindir's shoulder at someone clearly within earshot.

Elrond nodded by way of reply to Lindir.

"It will become clear, Lindir. Forgive me for not having taken you into my confidence. You will have to forgive Pen-ii the same also. You will understand why. In the meantime if you could restrain yourself, Celebdor, or anyone else from doing anything that may make her scream, shout, rant or do anything else that elicits comments and raised eyebrows from our hosts then I would be most grateful."

Elrond had the barest hint of a smile as he spoke. He clearly had been amused by the antics at the river, but was still making it clear it was not wholly wise given the circumstances. 'Whatever those circumstances may be,' Lindir mused.

"Of course, Elrond. Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," Elrond smiled. "Though given her reaction to the idea of walking along some rope above a river, I wonder how she will cope with talans in the height of the trees of Lothlorien."

"Well, we shall cross that bridge when we come to it," beamed Lindir.

Elrond and Erestor looked at him, shaking their heads but unable to restrain a chuckle.

"Sorry," Lindir sniggered. "I could not resist."

Advance author's note: 'Brian the Computer Nerd' was mentioned back in chapter 10 ("The Calm Before The Storm") of 'Don't Panic!'. The ability of elves to sense virginity (or rather the lack of it) in humans was used (and explained in a footnote) in Chapter 20 ("Open Mouth, Change Feet") of 'Don't Panic!'.

After the horrendous night before, both in terms of sleeping on rocks and being woken in the small hours by the butcher of orcs somewhere in the dark, Penny was grateful to have a full night's undisturbed sleep. She had also been exhausted from the long day's travel. The soft forest floor seemed like a four-poster compared to the shards of mountain rock she had bedded down on on top of Caradhras. She went to bed early and slept like a log.

"Up you get, sleepy." Mireth was gently shaking her awake.

Penny muttered something, turned and continued snoring. Mireth shook her again, saying her name.

"No, Brian, get off!"

Mireth blinked. "Who is Brai-yan?"

Penny sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake.

"What? Eh? What did you say?"

Mireth sat back on her haunches, a bemused expression on her face.

"Who is Brai-yan?"

Penny went an interesting shade of pink. The ellith in the tent laughed.

"Is he your beau, Pen-ii?" Arwen asked with a smile.

"Husband, surely?" one of the elleth corrected her.

"No, she is not married…"

Eleniel suddenly stopped speaking and froze. She winced slightly. Even as she did so, a vaguely uncomfortable silence settled over the ellith for the briefest moment, before they suddenly became terribly busy. Penny furrowed her brows at them. What the hell was all that about? She was barely awake, for goodness sake!

"Forgive me, Pen-ii," Eleniel was murmuring. "I did not mean to embarrass you…"

"I am not embarrassed. Why would I be?"

Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a glance.

"No reason," Eleniel muttered, her smile plastering itself a little too quickly onto her face.

"No, indeed, no reason at all," Mireth agreed hurriedly. "Now, come on, up you get, we need to get moving soon."

Penny, still groggy, allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet, vaguely aware there was now whispering going on in a far corner of the tent. Arwen glared at the perpetrators who quickly scuttled outside to continue their gossiping elsewhere.

It was only as the splash of cold water hit her face as she washed, that Penny suddenly realised what all the fuss had to be about.

Of all the damn liberties…!

How bloody DARE they! Fair enough, things were very different round here concerning such matters, but that did not mean they had to…!

Penny felt a wave of embarrassment and fury hit her. This was personal, private, and how bloody DARE elves be able to 'sense' these sorts of things! She felt vaguely humiliated and hugely embarrassed that such a thing could become public knowledge so easily.

Wait a second… How had Mireth known his name was…?

"Mireth?"

Mireth looked up at Penny over breakfast.

"Was I talking in my sleep?"

Mireth grinned and sniggered. "I am sorry to say you were. Only as I tried to wake you, though."

Penny felt her face burn. What on earth had she said? She hoped to all things holy it was in English and thus incomprehensible. She decided she did not want to know.

A little while later and they had all started off through the trees once more, the light filtering down through the green canopy above. As Penny rode down the path, she spotted Lindir waiting for her to one side up ahead. As she neared him, she was not overly pleased to see he wore an amused expression, the sort of expression that, where Lindir was concerned, never boded well. When she finally reached him, he slowly fell into step beside her, a faint smirk forming on his face.

"Who is Breen?"

Penny could not have looked more shocked and appalled if he had whacked her in the face with a wet fish. She spluttered incoherently for a moment. Somewhere just behind her, Mireth slapped Celebdor on the arm hissing something about 'you and your big mouth, I told you not to tell anyone!'

"I do not BELIEVE this! Has this gone all the way round the camp?"

"Only that you were mentioning the name of someone in your sleep," he smirked, "and that you got very shy and embarrassed when you were asked about it."

He did not, of course, tell her what the rest of the gossip entailed. Celebdor had indeed told him about 'Bree-yin' (or something close to that), but Lindir had heard that and more from other sources. Lindir had been quick to reprimand those involved in spreading the 'and more': it was not the sort of thing that should be made public knowledge.

Lindir, as one of the small group who knew Penny well, had been told by her long before that she was not married and therefore had known for a long time what the 'situation' was. Gossip he may be, but there was gossip and then there was gossip, and besides which he considered Penny to be a friend of his.

He had not been surprised, though, when he had first realised. This was how humans were, and there was something about Penny that made it clear she behaved very differently from your average human and felt constrained by most norms of society, both human and elvish. He knew her too well to think her a 'loose woman', though. It had been a fiancée, perhaps? Given she was lying about her past, he suspected she may even be lying about not being married, though why this should be he did not know.

He would find out soon enough, he reasoned.

In the meantime, though, the idea that she was mentioning male names in her sleep was too good an opportunity to miss. She was so easy to goad and highly entertaining when irritated.

"I just wondered who he was, that was all," he continued, his voice calm as he tried to maintain a bearing of total innocence.

Penny tried 'covering tactics'. "What makes you so certain he is a 'he'?"

"Is he not?"

Penny looked shifty.

"So he is?"

Penny scowled.

"Ah, like that, is it?" Lindir sniggered.

"Could we drop this conversation, do you think?"

"But I am interested!" Lindir insisted.

"No, you are not, you just like tormenting people. How long will it take us to reach Caras Galadhon?"

"Do not change the subject. Tell me about Breen." The smirk was now a broad grin.

"His name is not 'Breen,' it is 'Brian,' and I do not want to talk about it."

"'It'?" Lindir could not help but laugh.

"It, him… same thing."

"Ah."

"What do you mean 'ah'?"

"Nothing," Lindir sniggered. "We shall get to Caras Galadhon tomorr-."

"Now you are changing the subject," Penny intervened hotly. "What do you mean by 'ah'?"

"Berating Lindir again, Lady Pen-ii?"

"Well, someone has to, Erestor."

"Very true."

Penny had never been so grateful for a Westron lesson in her life.

Lunch was, as usual, a fairly haphazard affair, with everyone helping themselves to fruit, what bread was left as well as a little cheese and then sitting in small groups under the huge trees. Penny spotted Arwen wandering through the groups as if looking for someone. As soon as she saw Penny, she beckoned her over, leading her away from the company a little distance under the shade of the trees. Even then she kept her voice down.

"I realise this is delicate, Pen-ii, and you must forgive me for even broaching the subject, but I wanted to let you know that..." Arwen paused, as if a little hesitant as to how best to continue. "Well, I have let it be known that you say you are not married simply because you have no memory of being so. With Ada's permission, I have also hinted that we suspect you may even be a widow, hence the… discrepancy."

Penny blinked. 'Discrepancy'? How delicately put.

"I realise things are…" Arwen paused, glancing round her before lowering her voice still further. "…different where you come from. However, this should stop the talk."

Penny was mortified.

"There has been talk?" she asked, incredulously.

It was stupid question, she told herself. Of course there would have been talk. She was surrounded by a horde of gossipy elves, wasn't she? They would not be able to help themselves. 'Damn elves poking their noses into things that are none of their damn business!'

Arwen smiled kindly and a little sadly. "You need not worry. Trust me. The perpetrators are feeling very much ashamed now my explanation has reached them, so I understand."

'Good!' thought Penny.

"Thank you, my lady. I would never have thought of such a thing myself. I am sorry, I am at a loss to know-"

"You do not need to apologise. It is not your fault that we elves are sensitive about certain matters, and I realise our ways are very different to yours. The fault lies not with you but with others who fail to see when something should not be broadcast from the treetops."

'Broadcast from the…!' Penny groaned inside, her sense of shame and humiliation growing all the while, and along with it a sense of supreme frustration and irritation with damn busy-body elves.

Arwen could sense her mixture of emotions and reached out one hand to stroke Penny's cheek in a gesture that was at once comforting, reassuring and vaguely maternal. She said nothing, but then nothing needed to be said.

Penny returned with her to the general company somewhat wary at first, given she was now well aware that the 'discrepancy' of her non-virgin-yet-unmarried status had been 'broadcast from the treetops' to all and sundry. As she sat down quietly next to Mireth and Naurdir, she felt very small and sad for a moment. It was not nice to be talked about and she could just imagine the sneering 'oh, well what do you expect from a mortal' tone that some of them might have used. Imagining that, though, was enough to ignite the fury within her.

Damn them! Damn them all! It was none of their bloody business! It was nobody's business, frankly, other than her own. It was THEIR problem, not hers!

"Just let someone say something. If just one person says one word…" she muttered angrily under her breath. "I dare them."

Woe betide any elf silly enough to try it.

It was difficult to stay angry long, though, given the surroundings. As they travelled eastwards at a moderate pace, the Celebrant gurgling away to their right somewhere, Penny could not help but gaze in awe at the massive mallorns that stretched away to either side of her.

And she knew that the ones in Caras Galadhon were bigger still.

She was walking, with Eleniel, alongside Arwen. Arwen had made a point of asking Penny to travel with her for the afternoon, as much to make it clear to the gossips that their actions of the morning were not appreciated, and that if Arwen did not have a problem with Penny then no-one else should either.

Penny realised what she was doing and was very grateful.

The sensation of the place was hard to define. Penny could remember the way Frodo and Sam had described it in the books, but she did not feel it quite as strongly as they had. Perhaps it was because she was not in the presence of the One, or because Nenya's power was already waning a little, or possibly even because, as a rubbish human, she was just less intuitive than a hobbit. Whatever the reason (and it could even have been a combination of all three), she felt something alright, but not clearly enough to be able to pin it down. Not that Frodo or Sam had been able to explain it terribly clearly either, she vaguely remembered. It was much like trying to describe the beauty of an elf.

Lothlorien was the living embodiment of everything elvish. Everything that hit you when you saw an elf before you, when you first heard them sing, was summed up in the trees Penny was gazing up at, in the grass she walked upon, in the flowers that littered the floor of every glade they passed through.

As weird as it sounded, she felt not exactly light-headed so much as refreshed and light on her toes. Her head seemed clearer than it had in ages, and the sunlight that filtered through the leaves or shone bright on her back in clearings, seemed to dance and sparkle, to infuse everything with a faint glow. Everything was very, very green. She was not entirely sure that it was not just her mind playing tricks on her, though, because if you tried to concentrate on it, it seemed to evaporate… and yet it remained.

It was all deeply odd. Pleasant, beautiful and very wonderful, but deeply, deeply odd.

Penny wondered if this was what it was like to trip out on mushrooms or E or some such.

Suddenly visions of elves off their faces and mooning about making V-signs flitted through her head: Elrond with flowers in his hair telling everyone 'to chill out, man, and be cool.' That image was enough to start her off into a peal of sniggers that she tried to cover as a coughing fit.

"Are you quite well, Pen-ii?" Arwen seemed a little concerned.

"Quite well, I assure you," Penny spluttered.

Not good.

"So, how are you finding Lothlorien?" Glorfindel asked her once they had stopped to camp down for the evening.

"It is wonderful!" Penny grinned back at him.

"Isn't it?" Glorfindel looked around him. "I do so love being here."

There was a wistful note to his voice and Penny looked at him a little quizzically. He saw her looking at him.

"It has changed a little," he explained quietly. "It is already not quite what it was."

She nodded. "Yes, well, after The One was destroyed…"

"Indeed."

'Strange,' Penny thought. 'I did not notice any change in Imladris.'

Glorfindel, whether he had guessed her mind or not, added: "Even in Imladris, though you might not have noticed. The power in Lothlorien was always the greater. But then, Lady Galadriel is no ordinary elleth."

'Yeah, thanks for reminding me of that,' Penny said to herself, as she felt her stomach tighten into knots again.

Over supper and the following day Penny noticed their numbers were swelling, if gradually, as more and more Galadhrim joined them. Much of the singing was now done by the locals, again mainly love songs and a few which told tales of Elrond's feats in battle or of Glorfindel and the glory of Gondolin. As the voices rose from in amongst the crowd, on occasion others would meet them from up above Penny's head somewhere. She would strain her eyes to try and see the singers in amongst the foliage but never managed to do so.

It was a little after lunch when Penny found yet again she was entering a clearing, only this seemed a lot larger than any they had encountered up till now. As soon as she saw the hill in its centre, the double row of trees on the top, and the grass littered with white and yellow flowers, she knew where she was.

"Cerin Amroth," she breathed.

She was riding between Erestor and Lindir, with a Galadhrim friend of theirs on the far side of Lindir – a tall, willowy ellon (well, taller and willowier than most ellyn usually were) by the name of Rhimlath.

"You have heard of it?" Rhimlath seemed a little surprised.

"Oh, yes, indeed. This was the centre of the ancient realm once, is that not so?"

Erestor smiled and Lindir raised an eyebrow at him. He had a strong feeling that Erestor had not told her this, though it was very possible he was imagining things.

"Indeed," Rhimlath beamed with pleasure. He then started off on a lecture entirely for Penny's benefit.

Erestor and Lindir exchanged a glance. Little did Penny know it, but Rhimlath was rather renowned for pontificating, and at length. It was only after a few minutes, as Rhimlath showed no sign of slowing down or stopping any time soon, that Penny realised she had been deserted. She glanced round to see Erestor and Lindir had hung back a little and were now chatting amiably together and just letting Rhimlath get on with it.

As they slowly made their way round the mound, keeping it to their left, several slowed or got off their horses and Penny saw quite a few elves she knew sitting in the grass, leaning back and enjoying some of the sun for a few minutes. She spotted Elrond and Glorfindel among them, and then noticed Arwen making her way upwards towards the double ring of trees, lost in her own thoughts.

Penny smiled.

Aragorn had done a similar thing when the Fellowship had paused here with Haldir. This was where he and Arwen had plighted their troth, after all. It had such significance for them both, and here she was now on her way to marry him, to fulfil that pledge, made here so many years ago.

Rhimlath was still going, giving Penny chapter and verse about she knew not what, but she was away in her own thoughts. Arwen had reached the outer ring of trees and let one hand trail against the white bark of the first she reached, its boughs now covered in dark green leaves, stark against its pale trunk. A faint smile played on her lips.

As she watched her, Penny suddenly remembered with sadness that Aragorn had left this place never to return. Then, even as that thought struck her and hit home, she realised that Arwen would return, but alone, and to die.

Suddenly she was not even pretending to listen to Rhimlath any more, but staring at Arwen as a lump formed in her throat. Behind her the chatter died as Erestor suddenly caught sight of her and trailed off in mid-sentence. He recognised that look, though he had not seen it for many months. Lindir was glancing between the two, wondering what was going on.

As Penny brought her horse to a halt, Arwen suddenly stopped and slowly turned to stare directly in Penny's direction, returning Penny's gaze levelly as their eyes met.

"… because of course, back then we… Oh, I say, is anything amiss?" Rhimlath had glanced back to realise he was talking to himself and had turned his horse to come back to Penny. Lindir and Erestor joined him.

"Pen-ii?"

Penny suddenly started, even though Erestor had not spoken loudly.

"What? Oh, sorry. Did we stop?"

"You did," Erestor continued. "Rhimlath was asking you if anything was amiss?"

"No… no, no," Penny replied a little too hurriedly. She was smiling and apologising but all three could see there was something wrong, some distress or concern in her eyes though she was covering it well.

"Lady Pen-ii?"

Penny glanced round to see Elrond was beside her.

No, he was the last person she needed to see let alone talk to right now. He really did NOT need to know that he had just been sitting on the site of his daughter's future grave.

"Excuse me… Rhimlath's history was so moving… to be amongst the Galadhrim at last… Lothlorien… too beautiful," she muttered hurriedly, urging her mare forward to get away from them all as quickly as she could.

Rhimlath looked incredibly smug, gave a nod of the head as if to say 'quite right too' and 'at least someone appreciates my knowledge' and quickly went after her to continue his lecture.

"Lady Pen-ii! If you found that informative, then just wait…!"

There was the briefest of 'moments' amongst the three ellyn left behind.

"What just happened here?" Lindir said quietly.

"I can guess at some of it, perhaps," Erestor said.

Elrond was quiet for a second. He had seen the tears in Penny's eyes, he had seen who she had been looking at, and that Arwen had returned her stare. He had sensed that his appearance beside her had been the thing that had upset her most.

"Perhaps, Erestor," he said quietly. "But I think I can guess nearer."

So saying, he walked to his horse and mounted it, determined never to come to that place again.

Nor did he.

Penny was quite grateful to have Rhimlath droning on at her for the next hour or so. The episode at Cerin Amroth had shaken her a little, if only because she had forgotten what that sort of thing could feel like – it had been a while, after all.

She was grateful, though, when Lindir managed to distract Rhimlath and persuade him that someone somewhere needed to know the finer details of some particular plant native only to Lothlorien. Rhimlath beamed and trotted on ahead to find them.

"Thank you." Penny smiled.

"You are welcome." Lindir grinned. "I would have warned you about him, but you gave him such an opportunity back there." He sniggered.

"You are too kind." She pulled a face. "I notice you and Erestor immediately abandoned me."

"Do you blame us?"

"Actually, no."

They continued in silence for a little while, letting the sound of a love ballad wash over them.

"Pen-ii," Lindir began. "About what happened at Cerin Amroth-"

"I do not want to talk about it." Something in her hurried tone made Lindir glance at her, his brow furrowed. She clearly meant it and was determined. She looked back at him. "Do not ask me again. I will not tell you."

"Never? It is not part of-"

"It is and it is not."

She suddenly looked very sad and Lindir found himself reminded of when she had first come to Imladris. What was going on?

"Pen-ii?" he asked gently.

But she merely shook her head and would not say anything more.

Soon after that, they broke through the tree line to be confronted by the outer walls of Caras Galadhon. The wide grassy area that encircled it meant they could walk several horses abreast easily now. Those on foot mainly kept to the paved, white walkway. To their left was the wide moat several metres across. Then towering above it was the green hedge of tall trees, knitted and interwoven, the branches grown one into the other to form an impenetrable barrier. Penny felt her heart in her mouth as she craned her neck upwards at the huge trees on the other side of it. She could never have imagined this sight in her wildest dreams.

"It is quite something, is it not?" Mireth said excitedly, coming to stand alongside her. It was Mireth's first ever visit to Lothlorien and she was probably looking forward to it nearly as much as Penny was.

Penny was speechless. All she could do was nod dumbly.

She offered Mireth her mare and the two travelled along the encircling path together. Lindir kept close beside them, chatting with Celebdor or else joining in with the songs.

After an hour or two there was a brief pause as everyone stopped. Penny was informed by Celebdor, who stood on his horse's back to see ahead, that a company of Galadhrim dressed in the white and silver livery of the guards of the Lord and Lady had come to greet the wedding march and lead them into the city.

It was late afternoon when at last they reached the gates, set between the overlap of the encircling band of trees. The songs had increased in volume and were met by voices from inside the city now. They passed over the bridge that spanned the water-filled ditch and through the open doors, huge and wooden, and with runes and designs carved within them that near glowed with mithril and jewels.

As Penny entered Lothlorien, she could scarcely believe it. The sense of 'unreal' reality had been increasing the nearer they had got to the city. The air positively hummed with light and singing and something utterly indefinable.

She half expected their arrival to be greeted by unseen Galadhrim singing at them from the trees above them, but instead the paths were lined with elves, some singing, some laughing and waving, and others just looking inordinately pleased that their kin from across the mountains were arrived at last.

Penny gave up trying to take it all in and just let it pass by her, lost in wonder and awe at it all. The size of the trees here was immense, like nothing she could have imagined, and she got dizzy every time she looked up to try and see where they might end.

'Dream come true' could not even begin to cover it.

They wound their way along paths and between trees, ever accompanied by songs and laughter, slowly climbing up the long, low incline of the massive hill on which the entire city was built. Dusk was drawing in and lights were being lit, twinkling in gradually increasing numbers high in the leaves above them. At last they reached a large clearing where those on horseback dismounted, packs were laid on the ground, and finally greetings could properly be made. Waiting for them were a large group of elves, many of whom immediately came forward to help with unloading the horses and began to lead them off to be refreshed and housed in stables and paddocks nearby.

At the centre of this group were more Galadhrim guards dressed in white and silver and in amongst them, two figures, male and female, standing tall and proud. The elf-lord was a good hand taller than Glorfindel (which was saying something), his silver hair flowing down his back. In the gathering gloom he seemed to shine, as if early starlight were already catching the traces of mithril threads in his white tunic or the pearls and opals at his throat. Holding his hand was an elleth as tall as he was. She was also in white, with hair like spun sunlight and a beauty rivalled only by Arwen out of all the ellith there. She was extraordinary.

Even Penny, obtuse, utterly ordinary, mortal Penny, could tell she was in the presence of two hugely powerful people. They emanated an energy that seemed to make the air around them both fizz.

It took only a moment for Penny to take all this in. As she did so, Celeborn and Galadriel's faces had broken into wide smiles. Elrond was greeting them loudly from afar even as he jumped from his horse. Arwen ran into her grandmother's arms as if she were a mere elfling once more.

Galadriel broke her hold on Celeborn's hand to hug Arwen tightly and kiss her brow, then pull back a little, holding her by her face to smile down at her and murmur something to her.

Elrond had now joined them and greeted his father-in-law with a slight bow and a broad smile.

Glorfindel and Erestor were not far behind him. Indeed, the entire glade was filled with hallooing and laughing, hugs and broad smiles everywhere you looked.

Transfixed on the other side of the clearing, Penny suddenly felt sick to her stomach with nerves.

1. The chapter title was going to be 'He's Not The Messiah, He's A Very Naughty Boy,' but I did not want to cause offence. It is a quote from Monty Python's 'The Life of Brian' and are, thus, very, very apt. /snickers/ What, me? Being a cow to Penny? But of course! Well, why break a habit when it's so much fun, right? ;P

2. I repeat the author's note from Chapter 20 of 'Don't Panic!' just for reference: " In HoME (Morgoth’s Ring) it says that elves can sense if someone is married or not. Now it doesn’t specify if this is just with other elves or if they can sense it with other races as well. Given elvish sensibilities, and the fact that we humans can make fairly accurate guesses based on someone’s demeanour as to whether they are a virgin or not, I do not think it too much of a stretch to say that elves can sense such things about humans pretty accurately. In Middle Earth, of course, sex would only come with marriage. Hence their shock at the idea that she is not a virgin and yet never been married."

3. Trivia moment: 'Rhimlath' was the name JRRT was originally considering for Orophin. It's in HoME, but don't ask me where because I forget now. ;P

4. *weeps for Elrond*

5. A 'fosse' (as JRRT describes the ditch in the chapter 'The Mirror of Galadriel' in FOTR) is equivalent to a moat and thus often/usually had water in it.

Chapter 11 – Stupid Is As Stupid Does

There was no formal welcoming or speech from Galadriel or Celeborn, no standing on ceremony once the initial warm greeting of family was over. Instead they slowly moved through the throng, welcoming groups or individuals, many of whom were old friends.

As she watched them slowly head her way, Penny felt her stomach sink at the thought that she would herself meet them face-to-face in all but a few minutes. Her mind was racing. She had had months of gradually getting used to her new life. In all that time, she had not had to think about her situation, or rather she had been able to forget about it a little once the war had finished and her mind was not so focused on it all. That moment in Cerin Amroth had been the first such moment in a long while, and the prospect of going through it all again, of having everything raked over once more, filled her with trepidation.

She could do without the emotional upheaval, frankly, if the truth be told.

Added to which, Galadriel in the books had seemed so…. ethereal, so other-worldly, so powerful that it scared Penny a little to be in the presence of her even at this distance, let alone know she was possibly going to get a grilling from her, if not now then soon.

It did occur to her that the fact she had faced Gandalf without similar qualms showed a complete lack of logic on her part. 'Though Gandalf was far more personable in the books,' she reminded herself. Also, back then, she had had little time to really think about who she was about to meet the first time she had been presented with Elrond, Gandalf, Aragorn and the rest. There had been more immediate concerns (such as whether she was completely losing her marbles, just for a start). The entire situation had been traumatic, and meeting them, while upsetting, had been nerve-wracking for very different reasons than those that were giving her the heebie-jeebies right now.

Basically, now she had the time to really consider the enormity of such a meeting, it scared the pants off her.

Thus it was that, acting purely on instinct and all the while knowing it to be an utterly ridiculous thing to do, Penny picked up her saddle bags and, as surreptitiously as she dared, sidled round the clearing as slowly as Galadriel and Celeborn seemed to make their way in her direction. Part of her brain was asking her what the hell she was playing at, but her legs seemed to have a life of their own: taking her away even as her brain was screaming at her to stay still.

'Later, perhaps… Much later. Yeah, meeting them tomorrow would be good. Or the day after, even.'

Needless to say, her performance did not go unnoticed. Glorfindel and Erestor glanced in her direction more than once, eyebrows raised and looking less than impressed. Erestor had even caught hold of Elrond's arm at one point and muttered to him, gesturing towards Penny as he did so.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her firmly by the elbow.

"What in Arda do you think you are doing?" a voice hissed in her ear. "Stay still and meet your hosts. We may not have too many conventions and customs, but manners cost nothing."

Penny could not work out if Lindir was merely irritated or genuinely angry, but neither seemed a pleasant prospect.

"Scuttling round the clearing like that…! Do you think we can not see you?"

Penny did not have an answer and just stood there, saddlebags in hand, feeling very shamefaced. And looking it.

"Oh, I am sure they do not want to meet me," she murmured, trying to find some excuse for her behaviour now it had been noticed.

After his conversation with Elrond and Erestor, Lindir knew perfectly well that Penny knew that was not the case.

"Nonsense. You are a guest, and the only mortal here," he smiled thinly. He could not say much more given Rhimlath was standing right beside him.

"Oh, do not be too hard on her, Lindir. I admit I thought she might be a little more enthusiastic, given the clear interest she has shown in our realm thus far, but it is perhaps no surprise, given how fearful and in awe the Secondborn usually are in our presence."

Penny scowled, but knew better than to say anything. Lindir would have had her head on a plate if she had so much as breathed a word in response to Rhimlath right now. Especially given the kind of response it probably would have been.

"Galadriel is a very famous elleth of great power and honour. I felt scared to meet her so soon. It was too much."

Which was true. Pathetic, perhaps, but true.

Rhimlath smiled in a way that made it clear that he completely understood and felt his point had been made. He also had a faintly pitying air as if it was such a shame (if entirely understandable) that the young thing before him should behave like a skittish doe when faced with an elf of power.

However, Lindir just raised a sceptical eyebrow at her.

"You knew we were coming here the day we left Imladris. You have had over two weeks to prepare yourself. If not longer."

"I did not expect to meet them the moment I set foot here, though! I am still trying to get used to being in Caras Galadhon. Caras Galadhon, Lindir! I… I am IN Caras Galadhon!"

There was tone of genuine astonishment and excitement as she said this that made Rhimlath swell with pride at the same time as it made Lindir look at her closely.

"Well, judging from the expression on Lord Elrond's face, he is far from impressed that you have so obviously tried to avoid meeting the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien."

Penny blinked.

Oh. Crap.

Lindir watched her face fall.

"Exactly. I suggest you stop behaving so ridiculously and let them greet you."

Rhimlath leaned forward to pat Penny on the arm as if to say 'Don't worry, little mortal, I understand how scary we can be.' If she had not been so preoccupied with the fact that Galadriel and Celeborn were now only feet away from her, she might have seriously considered thumping him. Rhimlath then left them to it and joined those busily setting up awnings and tents for the visitors.

Celeborn and Galadriel finished talking to the group next to them and turned towards them. Penny's heart was in her mouth and her stomach in knots. She had no option but face the inevitable, if nothing else because Lindir was practically standing on top of her, effectively preventing her from going anywhere even if she tried to.

In a haze of nerves and panic her only thought was that, however cursory this first meeting might be, Penny did not want to have anything 'read' from her by Galadriel. No silent questioning, no weird mind-reading – nothing that would give something away that Penny would prefer remained unsaid or set her off into some emotional frenzy. Now was not the time.

'Concentrate, woman. Concentrate on something… anything!'

She let the first tune that popped into her head fill her brain. Unfortunately, in her concentrated effort to blank out anything else, she also started muttering under her breath.

"…Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango, thunderbolts and lightning…"

Lindir dug her in the ribs. Hard.

There was a faint peal of laughter from Galadriel.

"Now, now, Lindir, Lady Pen-ii has her reasons, I am sure."

Penny felt her face flush a bright scarlet.

'Why you so frightened of me, child? Am I really remembered so ill from wherever you hail?'

The gentle, female voice in her head, so unexpected and unbidden, was as soft as a breeze, kindly and warm. A little curious and a little sad, perhaps, as it asked its rhetorical question, but not unkind. Far from it.

Penny just stood there, blinking at Galadriel like a rabbit caught in headlights.

"Lindir! It has been too long!" Celeborn smiled, as if he had not noticed anything happen at all. "It is good to see you once more."

Lindir inclined his head slightly, his face now split with a broad smile.

"Indeed," Galadriel added. "I trust you will regale us with some music and song while we are in your company? We have need of some with your talent here in Lothlorien."

"You flatter me too much, my lady."

"Nonsense," Galadriel smiled.

"And Lady Pen-ii," Celeborn turned to her, his grey eyes bright with the wisdom of long years. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

Lindir was having a hard time keeping his face expressionless. 'At last?'

"You are most welcome, Pen-ii." Galadriel smiled.

"And I am honoured to meet you both. Truly." Only now did Penny think to bow a little. She could barely look Galadriel in the eye, and not just because of her embarrassment. "It is an honour simply to be here in Lothlorien. I have heard so much…"

"You must treat this place as if it were your own." Celeborn smiled.

"Help yourselves to anything you need," Galadriel murmured as she turned to leave.

And that was it.

Weird mind-talk aside, it had been rather banal, very amiable and not at all scary, which meant Penny was left feeling both foolish and ashamed. Lindir had a stern, narrow-eyed 'See? What in Arda was all the fuss about?' expression on his face as he suggested Penny should follow him and help set up camp.

Penny trailed after him a little sulkily, mentally kicking herself for having behaved like such an idiot. 'What a fantastic first impression all of THAT must have made on the Lord and Lady of Lothorien,' she told herself sourly. They would no doubt report it to Elrond, who would also have it relayed to him by Lindir, and given he was already annoyed with her, apparently…

Penny groaned.

'Great. Just great. Way to go, Penny. Superb. Really, bloody superb.'

"The poor child was frightened," Galadriel murmured as she and Celeborn meandered over to the last few elves they had not welcomed.

"Indeed. To the point that she tried to avoid meeting us. It is only thanks to Lindir that she stayed still long enough for us to welcome her at all."

"I thought it best that we not tarry and engage her in conversation just yet."

"Yes, I did notice you were tugging on my sleeve, my love," Celeborn smiled. "However, I sensed we managed to put her at her ease somewhat."

"I wonder at her initial reaction to us."

"I wonder at it a little also." Celeborn paused, considering for a moment. "Then again… perhaps not."

Celeborn's face was enigmatic as he spoke, and none save Galadriel might have been able to guess at what he was thinking if they had been a party to the conversation.

With half of Lothlorien (or so it seemed) helping out, the camp was very soon readied. Cots and cushions had appeared as if from nowhere so that the visitors' sojourn would be a little bit more comfortable than up till now on their travels. As it turned out many would not be staying there but with old friends or relations in talans or lodgings elsewhere. There was now no sign of Celeborn or Galadriel. Elrond, Arwen, Erestor and Glorfindel were among those who would be staying in other accommodation and had also disappeared.

Penny suddenly felt very much the odd-one-out. Even for those for whom this was their first trip to Lothlorien, such as Mireth, there was not the same sense of alienation and utter strangeness as there was for Penny. Rather there was the sharing of kin and bloodlines, of shared culture and history. For many they had family and friends here. Penny had seen Naurdir greeting an ellon she assumed was his father-in-law and both kissing and wandering off with an elleth she had had pointed out to her as his wife. Nor was he the only one.

She felt her presence there was more of a hindrance, perhaps, or at the very least an oddity that it would have been easier to do without. Mireth had said they would explore together, but Penny felt she would probably do better by herself or without Penny around to encumber her at least. Certainly, as pleasant enough as the greetings had been from the locals, they, like the Galadhrim she had already met, seemed a little surprised a mortal was amongst those from Imladris, but the moment she was explained away paid her no more interest whatsoever.

There would be a little while before food was ready, though already things were being prepared in a nearby clearing to the one they were to camp in, so Penny was told. She took the opportunity, with Mireth and Eleniel, to fetch some water from a nearby rivulet and then wash and change into clean clothes.

That would be first job tomorrow: a proper bathe and washing the clothes they had travelled in.

Joy.

Penny sat outside the tent, combing her hair and staring up into the mad heights of the branches above her, lights moving and twinkling amongst them, and the air filled with song.

It was like sitting inside a dream.

Eleniel plaited Penny's hair and, once done, the three headed over to where food was being provided.

It was no feast by any means – that was planned for tomorrow night, apparently – but was still a good spread, especially compared to the simpler fare the travelling party had been used to for the last few days. There was plenty of fruit and fresh bread, cheeses and wine, baked fish and sweetmeats. There were bowls of what the elves would probably call 'salad'. It was something Penny had come to recognise in Imladris, and which consisted of (as far as she was concerned) a random assortment of leaves, weeds and flowers. It was an acquired taste.

Long, low tables filled the clearing. Mireth spotted Celebdor, Rhimlath and Lindir sitting together at one table and dragged the other two with her to join them. Penny was aware Lindir barely spoke to her throughout the meal. Clearly he was still somewhat peeved by her earlier performance. She could not really blame him, either. She was very quiet herself too, glancing up every now and then towards where she could just make out Galadriel and Celeborn sitting with their family and close friends and advisors. Galadriel happened to catch her eye as she laughed, smiling at something Glorfindel had said to her. Penny quickly looked back down at her plate, feeling very self-conscious.

"You seem quiet, Pen-ii." Celebdor smiled gently.

"Am I? You must forgive me. This place is…" She looked about her and upwards.

Words failed her.

Celebdor grinned. "It is, is it not?"

"Celebdor has promised to show us around a little tomorrow," Mireth was beaming. "I am so looking forward to it."

Penny nodded and smiled. It would be something, it was true.

"Ah, but Celebdor, while he is no stranger to Lothlorien, could not show you everything there is to see here. You have expressed so much interest in the place, Lady Pen-ii, I was hoping perhaps… Indeed Lindir suggested that perhaps you might…"

Rhimlath trailed off. Penny glanced at Lindir. He had suggested she might like to have Rhimlath bore her senseless for the day, had he? Ah. Right. Like that, was it?

Lindir looked straight back at Penny, his face perfectly straight. There was a faint tightening of the skin round the eyes, though, and the flicker of a curve at the edges of his mouth that showed he was highly amused.

Penny was not.

But Penny had little choice.

"But of course, Rhimlath. I thank you. That would be most interesting."

Lindir's face broke into a broad grin. Penny glared at him. Which just made Lindir grin all the wider, and even snicker quietly.

"Of course, if Lindir wants to join us-"

"No, no, I do not think that-"

"But of course!" beamed Penny. "That would be wonderful! Oh, you must join us, Lindir. I would be very interested to know your thoughts on everything Rhimlath will tell us." She smiled her sweetest smile.

Now it was Lindir's turn to narrow his eyes in annoyance.

"Good. Well that is settled then." Rhimlath, oblivious, nodded with satisfaction. "I do not want to tread on your toes, though, Celebdor. Please, you and Mireth are welcome to join us…"

They hurriedly excused themselves. As a couple, they had a very good excuse to want to see things together and alone. Eleniel was suddenly very busily engaged in discussion with the elleth next to her and seemingly oblivious to the entire proceedings.

As Rhimlath wandered off to "prepare himself for tomorrow and make a mental list of all the 'must-see' places of note," Lindir looked back at Penny, shaking his head slightly but unable to keep back a smile.

"Well played, Pen-ii."

"Serves you right, Lindir."

"Indeed it does," smirked Celebdor. "Pen-ii turned the tables back on you very nicely just then."

"It is all very well for you to laugh!" Lindir retorted. "I notice you and Mireth wriggled out of coming with us."

"But we are betrothed, Lindir." Mireth smirked. "We have every right to wander beneath the beauty of the mellyrn undisturbed by Rhimlath's incessant prattling." She laughed that long, tinkling giggle of hers that Celebdor loved so well.

"And I do not see why I should have to face it alone," Penny added.

Well, it had broken the ice between them a little, she was pleased to note. She was not sure she wanted Lindir upset with her for the rest of the evening.

The meal finished, Penny glanced up to see Galadriel and Celeborn had left. Erestor was standing, deep in conversation with Elrond. Glorfindel had wandered over to where some elves were playing quietly on flutes and lyres.

'Asking a request from the DJ, Glorfindel?' Penny smirked to herself.

She wondered if she should go and say something to Elrond, try and explain her actions from earlier. Galadriel and Celeborn had not said anything, though, or given any indication they were offended or upset. Then again, they were probably just being polite.

"Lady Pen-ii?"

Penny turned. It was Erestor.

"Would you mind following me, please?"

Penny blinked. What was this about? She nodded and stepped towards him.

"Actually, Lindir, are you busy? Galadriel has asked that you be present, since she knows you are a good friend of Pen-ii's."

Penny paled. This was not good on all sorts of levels. Meeting Galadriel, the grilling, let alone Lindir being there…

"But Erestor…"

Erestor silenced her with a look. Penny glanced at Lindir nervously and Lindir, seeing her look, raised an eyebrow.

"Trust Galadriel's insight, Pen-ii," he murmured to her as they wandered along together, following Erestor under the trees. "Celeborn is wise beyond measure and if the two feel I should be there…"

"Indeed," Erestor added, turning his head slightly to Penny. "They are well aware Lindir does not know your story."

"Want to tell me now before we get there?" Lindir smiled, but he was only half-joking.

Penny hesitated. "No, I want to do it in my own time… In my own way… Not like this. Not be pushed into it. This is too much. I can not do this, Erestor. Please."

Erestor stopped and turned to face her fully. "Pen-ii, this behaviour has to stop."

"What behaviour?"

"Your trying to avoid them earlier was noticed, you know. I was less than impressed-"

"That is not fair, Erestor. That is not fair and you know it."

"Do I?"

"He has a point, Pen-ii. I know for a fact that Elrond-"

"Yes, Lord Elrond is even less impressed than I was, Pen-ii."

"Now, hold hard just one moment! Has it not occurred to you what this is like for me, Erestor? This is not unlike when I first came to Imladris…"

Lindir suddenly went very still and quiet. Penny was busy ranting at Erestor, having momentarily forgotten his presence.

"This is Galadriel, Erestor. Galadriel! I'm terrified, and pleased, and in awe and… I mean… Her history is… She guided Maura through so much. It was her lamp that saved him from Shelob-"

Erestor coughed quietly and glanced at Lindir.

"What? Oh. Yes." Penny fell silent.

Lindir glanced between the two. "My patience is wearing thin, you know." Again that smile, though it was clear he meant it.

Penny looked at him. She had an urge to take his hand, but was not sure if she should. As if sensing that in her, he held one hand out to her, and she took it gratefully.

"I promised you I would tell you, and I will, Lindir. Soon. I just… We have only just arrived here and I have barely caught my breath. Meeting Galadriel and Celeborn… Ai, it is hard to explain. It is such a huge moment for me. You will understand."

"And meeting Elrond was not a big moment? Or Mithrandir? Or Aragorn?"

Lindir felt he was going to burst with curiosity. The more Erestor spoke, the more confused he became. Penny had heard of them all before she had arrived? How was this possible given she was clearly from somewhere so far away?

"It was… but there were more pressing concerns at that time."

Erestor nodded. "I understand. That still does not excuse your behaviour-"

"Of course it does not. I regret it. It was foolish and stupid and I was telling myself exactly that even while I was doing it-"

"You must not let Erestor scold you, Pen-ii."

How long Arwen had been standing there, Penny had no idea. She was only a little distance away from them, a smile on her lips.

"I understood immediately, as did my grandparents. More than you might realise, I suspect. They have said as much to Father. You must not fear his anger. He has accepted that your reaction was, perhaps, to be expected." She turned, beckoning. "Come. They are waiting."

Lindir and Erestor hung back while Penny, feeling increasingly nervous, followed Arwen in to the shadows.

'Maura,' do not forget, is Frodo's real name in his native Westron. "Frodo" was only ever a 'translation' into English. (This was all explained, both in footnotes and in replies to reviews, in Don't Panic – see the Appendices and HoME for more details).

I hope I don't have to explain where 'Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango' comes from, even to those under a certain age who may not remember it first hand. However, just in case: 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen, and recently voted the best song ever.

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed so far. Glad to know you are all enjoying it. Thanks also to those spotting typos - much appreciated! :)

Chapter 12 – Lords, Ladies and Lies

Arwen led Penny to a small glade nearby, shaded by the trees and with a brook running through it to one side. Flowers filled the grass and the bushes round about were laden with honeysuckle, making the night air heavy with scent. Elrond and Celeborn were seated on the ground, leaning back on cushions, awaiting them. Galadriel was standing, a honeysuckle blossom gently held in her hand as she bent to sniff it.

Penny was aware this was the first time she had been alone with or even anywhere near Arwen since that moment on Cerin Amroth.

'Well, I won't say anything if she doesn't,' she decided, only to have Arwen interrupt her thoughts.

"I made my choice long ago," Arwen said quietly.

Penny glanced up to find Arwen was looking at her. Her gaze was serious but gentle. Penny's throat went tight.

"I know," she whispered.

Arwen turned, feeling no more needed to be said.

"I found them, grandfather," she said as she stepped lightly into the glade. "Lady Pen-ii was attempting to explain her reaction to you to Erestor."

Penny flushed and looked at her feet. What could she say? She had made a prize arse of herself earlier that evening, and she knew it.

"Ah, was she indeed?" Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I was… surprised, shall we say, Pen-ii. I had thought you had got used to us by now."

"We are not offended, Pen-ii," Celeborn responded. "I think that was Lord Elrond's main concern, perhaps, but you need not worry in that regard." Penny tentatively returned his smile. "You are most welcome, Pen-ii. Forgive us for insisting on this meeting, but we felt… since you have now had a little time to find your bearings, you might be better able to bear it."

"Better also to get some of this over with now, do you not agree?" Galadriel added, walking over to her. "We will not force you to discuss anything, Pen-ii. If you feel you can not manage it just yet, we will leave it for another time. The choice is yours. I know this is something you are fearful of."

Penny struggled to find her voice. "Thank you, my lady." She hesitated. "I must apologise, first, though… about earlier…"

"No need." Celeborn raised a hand.

"No, I meant…" Penny looked at Galadriel. "Your question… That is not the case, Lady Galadriel. Far from it. I feel ashamed my reaction made you think that was a possibility."

"I did not expect an answer, nor indeed did I honestly think that to be the case, my child." Galadriel smiled gently. "If anything I was trying to reassure you that you had nothing to fear, either from myself or Lord Celeborn, or from anything while you are within our borders. You should feel free, perhaps freer than you have felt up till now."

Penny was not entirely sure what that last phrase meant.

"Come."

Celeborn beckoned her over to him. He did not get up and Elrond indicated for Penny to sit. The informal atmosphere was helping her to keep her nerves under control. Penny suspected it was all quite deliberate. She hesitated sitting, though – old human social mores kicked in and made her feel it might not be wholly appropriate.

"There is little, perhaps, that we can tell you," Celeborn was saying. "I know Elrond and Erestor were eager that we meet you, but perhaps the time for such necessity is past. Your knowledge is hazier of events from now on, is that not so?"

"There is still more that has not been spoken of," Galadriel said quietly before Penny could reply.

Penny turned back to her, her eyes wide.

Galadriel smiled, and glanced at Elrond. "You were right. It does not concern us, though."

Suddenly Queen were back and at full volume inside Penny's head.

Galadriel tilted her head to one side. "Strange music. And in a tongue I cannot understand. You need not fear, Pen-ii. I would not read your thoughts unless you allowed me to do so, and unless it was in a tongue I knew then it would still be vague to me." She smiled. "I am not Mithrandir, after all."

Of course. Stupid. Mithrandir had only ever had the gist of things and he was far more powerful than Galadriel could ever hope to be.

At the opposite edge of the glade, Lindir and Erestor had appeared, now accompanied by Glorfindel. The three stood quietly, watching and listening to the scene as it unfolded. Lindir and Erestor stood together and Glorfindel leant up against a tree, arms folded. Lindir had tried to ask something once or twice already but each time Erestor and Glorfindel gestured for him to be quiet. Lindir gave up, accepting that his presence was deemed necessary by Galadriel and Celeborn, even if he was not to get any explanation for it just now.

Galadriel moved over to Penny, taking her hand. The wisdom of Ages was in her eyes. Elrond had the same thing, as had Glorfindel and Celeborn, but Galadriel's gaze was like nothing Penny had experienced. She felt lost in those eyes, drawn into them, and it was as if she could hear a far away ocean's roar or the whisper of the wind in long-forgotten forests ringing inside her head.

The light... the light that flickered deep within them was beyond reason.

"Questions. So many questions." Galadriel was speaking quietly. "She is so very far from home. Lost and found. She has found some peace, some comfort, at least..." She glanced at Elrond. "You have done well."

Elrond smiled to himself as Galadriel focused back on Penny.

"It is deep… she hides it, but it is there: questions she would rather forget and yet yearns to ask. She fears the answers may not be what she wants to hear and yet longs to have resolution and certainty."

Penny was being told things she hardly dared admit to herself. She had never spoken of this, though it had been guessed at and speculated upon by those who knew her story. Only once had she quizzed Mithrandir about it many months before, but when it became clear he did not have answers for her, she had had to learn to try and forget it… though it would never leave her completely.

"Once she wanted answers, but now… Now it terrifies her. She does not want them now, nor will I give them to her even though I might guess at them." She paused, then suddenly spoke to Penny directly. "Home is already distant to you. Yet you still miss them, do you not?"

Penny nodded, her eyes filling suddenly. Galadriel lifted her other hand to gently cup Penny's cheek, smiling kindly at her, her voice softer than down. Penny could smell the faint, lingering trace of honeysuckle on her fingertips.

"And I am sure they miss you."

Penny felt a tear spill over and down her cheek.

"You feel more yourself here than you ever did there. I can feel it. Deep within you, you know it too."

Penny shook her head.

"Yes, you do."

Gazing into those silver-grey eyes, suddenly Penny felt as if she had a choice: that all she had to do was ask. She could return to her damp, boring, hellish life. She could go back to be insulted by her idiot brother every Christmas, Easter or simply whenever they actually met face to face. She could be driven to distraction by her mother passing on the phone numbers of the sons of cousins, neighbours or simply some woman she met in the laundrette since Penny apparently 'needed to find a nice young man.' She could go back to the clammy, desperate embrace of Brian or some other sod that lurched at her in a drunken frenzy. She could shuffle along the mortal coil till she fell off the end of it, living out her existence in the comparative squalor and darkness of modern life, and never see this beauty ever again. She could dismiss it all as a dream and let the memory of the friendship and companionship, the compassion and noble honour that she had seen slowly fade to 'civilised modernity' around her.

It was no choice at all.

But then she already knew that. She had worked that one out some time ago.

"You are home," Galadriel murmured.

There were puzzled looks and mutterings at this. All save from Celeborn. Lindir looked the most puzzled of all of them. He decided he needed a sit down.

Penny simply burst into tears. Galadriel put her arms around her and held her as she wept.

"I cannot explain it any more than you can understand it, my child," Galadriel said softly over her head. "But you know it to be true as much as I can sense it within you."

Penny pulled away, completely at a loss. She had not expected this, she had not prepared for this in any way.

"Do you not sense it also, Elrond?" Galadriel was looking at her son-in-law. "Arwen? Surely you must do so. You said she seemed so very far removed from you, but that is not the case now. Do you not feel it?"

Arwen nodded. "It started receding almost as soon as I noticed it. It has reduced gradually over time. It is still there, but not as it was."

Penny was looking more and more perplexed.

"Mithrandir may have answers for you," Celeborn said. "Then again he may not. If he cannot provide them, no one can. We can only tell you what we feel, what we sense from you. There are questions that you do not want the answers for, no matter how often you ask them of yourself. We might tell you, but you would not want to hear."

Penny nodded.

"Nor could you speak with any absolute certainty," she replied quietly.

They did not reply, and their silence was answer enough.

She would prefer not to know if she was going to get sucked back to her old life at any moment; and as much as she wanted to know if she would stay forever, she was indeed fearful of getting a very different answer, just as Galadriel had surmised. Even if they tried, they would not be able to say for sure, only guess or hope, or perhaps say what might come to pass. Living as if she was here for the rest of her life was the only way she could cope with it all, let alone deal with the homesickness, the sudden flashes of her mother in tears and filling in a 'Missing Persons' report down at the nick, or the cravings for chocolate or pizza.

The guilt of wanting to stay was something she really did not like to think about.

Somewhere in the distance, a jaunty tune had struck up and there was the faint sound of laughter: Glorfindel's handiwork, no doubt. As Penny listened to the melody, so different, so alien to any dance tune she had heard in any nightclub in London, a wave of all she missed hit her without warning.

"This is why I did not want to do this…" She was struggling to keep the tears from falling once more. "It is too much. I have managed to keep it in for months now, found a way of living my life, but… I try not to think about it. Forgive me. I realise I was rude before, and I did not mean to be. Truly, I am sorry to have behaved in such a way."

"I have already told you no apology is necessary," Celeborn smiled. "We understand better than you realise."

He gestured once more for her to sit, and Arwen, who had been standing next to her all this while, took Penny's hand and sat down a little apart from Elrond and Celeborn. Penny let her pull her to the ground beside her. Galadriel moved round to sit beside Celeborn, leaning in towards him slightly, as he continued to talk quietly to Penny.

"The gift of foresight is strong amongst the Firstborn, and not uncommon among the Secondborn though it is dwindling now and found only in those of the old bloodlines. Even amongst them it does not occur with any clarity. Not like it used to. Estel is perhaps the exception. It is far from easy to carry such knowledge, especially for those unused to the burden. We cannot tell you what to do, but you may find it easier to talk a little to those who know you now, whom you count as friends. You say you have managed by keeping it in, but this will not serve you well in the long run. Did Mithrandir not tell you to speak openly of all you knew to Elrond once the Nine Walkers had left?"

Lindir, listening intently and with his mind racing at what he was hearing, raised his head sharply at that.

"Did that not help you a little? I would advise you to do something similar again. Even if you do not tell them it all – your story is a little hard to accept, I will admit – then your foreknowledge will not be so strange to them. It may indeed provide a bond with some of them. Only you can decide how best to deal with this. There is no right or wrong path to choose. Know that Elrond here and the others will support you. They have thus far."

"I know." Her voice was very small and choked with emotion. "I can never repay them. They have shown me much kindness and patience."

"It is Halbarad you have to thank," Galadriel replied. "After all, he did not have to bring you to Lord Elrond."

Penny nodded. The swell of emotion that rose within her at the thought that she would never be able to thank him properly herself, never converse with him in his own tongue to truly tell him how much she thought of him, how grateful she was, was too much. Tears rolled down her face.

"Ah, yes," Celeborn said sadly. "Such things are never easy."

On the far side of the glade, Lindir spoke quietly.

"If I may speak? Why am I here, my lord?"

Only now did Penny realise he was there, glancing round to see the quiet trio of ellyn nearby. She wondered how much he had heard. Judging by the serious and bewildered expression on his face, 'quite a bit' she assumed.

"You were promised her story, Lindir, and Galadriel and I would like to hear some of it also, though we know it already from Elrond. I feel sure Lady Pen-ii would not wish to go through it all more than once. It may well be distressing for her. We thought it best you hear it at the same time as she spoke to us." Celeborn looked back at Penny. "Do not feel obliged, Pen-ii. If you wish to wait a while, then-"

"We simply felt it might be better to provide this opportunity for you to do this now, than have it hanging over you any longer. Once it is done, then you can rest and take time to repose here in Lothlorien before facing Rohan and Gondor and whatever they may bring."

Penny looked at Galadriel. Did she know something Penny didn't?

Galadriel's face was smiling, kind, but utterly unreadable.

'Damn inscrutable, these elves.'

"I-I trust your judgment," she said quietly, forcing herself to believe it but really not at all sure about this. Her head was spinning just from what had transpired so far. She had not planned to tell Lindir like this, in public…

Then again, she had not really thought too hard about exactly how to broach it with him, and to have others there who already knew would be helpful…

"Pen-ii?" Lindir's voice was quiet, but he was looking at her with intense curiosity now.

Penny glanced at him and nodded. She did not speak, just breathed shakily for a moment or two as if trying to gather her thoughts.

"Perhaps we should leave?" Arwen said quietly to her father.

"No, please… stay," Penny responded. "After all, Lindir may have trouble believing what I will say."

"If all here believe it, that is enough for me, Pen-ii. I would not dream of questioning the judgment of Elrond, let alone Lord Celeborn."

'Yeah, right, you say that NOW…' thought Penny.

"I had already guessed some, and what I have heard just now-"

Penny turned towards him. "Guessed? Guessed what? How?"

"You never lost your memory. That was, and I hope the company here will forgive me for saying so, a lie, though I know full well Lord Elrond would never have been involved in such a deception without good reason. The strong sense of strangeness that has been mentioned here I sensed also. From the first day I met you."

Penny looked horrified. She turned to Elrond, all propriety suddenly forgotten.

"You said few would have this, that few would sense it! First Legolas, now Lindir…! How many more are there, Elrond?"

"Pen-ii, you need not fear," Arwen interrupted, silencing her father's words of protest with a glance before he could even draw breath to speak. "Any who sensed it would have put it down to your being from far away as they were told. Legolas only surmised there was something more since he knew what amnesia felt like in a human. Even then he would not have spoken were it not for what he faced and what he was party to regarding the Ring. Only those who got to know you better might question that but would accept that Father here, Erestor, myself and others had accepted your presence and your story."

"Indeed," Lindir agreed. "I know you well, Pen-ii, do not forget. You have no knowledge of even human society, let alone the language, and yet you have heard of elves, heard of Lothlorien, heard of Galadriel, indeed. It seems now you even had some gift of foresight regarding the Nine Walkers and what they carried. You had never seen an orc or innards or a stuffed heart before. I have never seen anyone so terrified of getting on a horse in my life... and it has been many years, Pen-ii," he laughed. "Trust me, your behaviour in the stables was like nothing I have ever seen. Everyone knows horses… unless they have been brought up in a cave with trolls!"

"Not far off the truth, Lindir," Penny muttered.

Lindir was not sure if she was joking or not.

"Even then, Pen-ii, they would not fear approaching the animals," he said quietly. "They would consider them good eating."

The two looked at each other for a moment. Lindir was calmly waiting for her to speak and tell him whatever it was that was so strange and secret. Penny was struggling to find the words, let alone the courage, to do what she had promised.

"You are right," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was a lie, if a necessary one. I always knew where I was from. I might not have always known where I was, but that is a different thing."

God, this was so hard talking about it openly for the first time in so long. She was aware that everyone else had gone very still. It occurred to her that this was the first time they would have heard her talk fluently about her experience. It had been Mithrandir's translation of vague thoughts, or fractured phrases and hand gestures before now: that, and then nothing more as she had tried to acclimatise and put it all behind her.

For the first time, then, they were hearing her side of it all in her own words.

Still she hesitated.

"Just start at the beginning," Arwen suggested.

Penny cast her mind back to that first morning when she had awoken in the rain and the grass, lost, alone and terrified. She could not look at Lindir. She knew what she was about to say was so outlandish, so ridiculous…

"I am not from far away, Lindir. I… I am from a different time."

Lindir furrowed his brows at her.

"My time… There are Ages between us. I had read about all of you… There is a book, several books… I knew about you all, about the War, about…" She smiled. "Even you, Lindir. You are mentioned." She risked looking at him and saw the incredulity stamped on his face.

Lindir glanced round at the others, disbelief on his face. He gave a half-laugh. "This is a joke, yes?" He looked back at Penny. "Are you serious?"

"Y-yes," she stammered. His response, as expected as it was, had upset her. She wondered if she should go on.

"Nonsense. It is another lie."

"Lindir-"

"No, Glorfindel, this is ridiculous."

"Indeed, Lindir, and yet it is as she says." Erestor, ever calm and quiet, spoke behind him.

"You believe this?" Lindir turned to him, then back to face the others. "Elrond? My lord Celeborn?"

Celeborn raised his hands in a non-committal gesture. "This is what we have been told, Lindir. It is clear Pen-ii believes it to be so. Amnesia can have strange effects, and if she had foresight also, it may be that-"

"No," Penny quickly intervened. The sharpness of her tone had been unintentional and she instantly saw the raised eyebrows. "Forgive me, Lord Celeborn, but this is no delusion." She could feel the tears coming. "It can not be. I wish it was…" She was staring at her lap, her gaze flicking sideways at Lindir as she spoke. "So many times I thought it was… I-I can not explain it, Lindir… I can only tell you the truth-"

"The truth? How is such a thing possible?"

"I am from a long time distant from this one-"

"Are you insane?"

Penny looked at him.

"I thought I was at first, Lindir, yes. I really did think I was insane. I know Halbarad was very worried about me. I knew this story so well, loved it so and now I was there, inside it… Have you any idea what that was like for me? Can you even begin to guess? I cannot expect you to understand. For you the old tales are alive still, no matter how long ago." She glanced at Galadriel. "You have those among you who saw it all, who can tell you firsthand what happened Ages ago." She turned back to Lindir. "Imagine, though, some ordinary mortal woman from this time, from now, suddenly waking up in Doriath or Nargothrond or Valinor… She would think herself crazy, would she not? That was how it was for me, Lindir!"

Lindir clearly looked sceptical.

"Her knowledge was too detailed," Elrond said quietly. "There was no way it could have been mere foresight."

"Pure detailed invention combined with foresight was a possibility," Erestor added.

Penny threw her head up sharply to stare at him in disbelief. How could he say something like that?

"I do not say I believe it, Pen-ii, merely that it was and remains a possibility. It was discussed at the time."

Penny could not believe this.

"What? What are you saying? 'Remains a possibilty'?"

"Time will tell," Galadriel murmured. "Once the details of all you knew have been confirmed with Estel and Maura and the rest…"

Oh, great! So she was 'under suspicion' till bloody Minas Tirith was she? Her fury and distress were palpable.

"We believe you," Arwen said quietly. "We have believed you from the first, however strange it was. That will confirm it, that is all. Estel and Mithrandir have already confirmed much in their brief reports sent back to Father. Do not be upset, Pen-ii."

Lindir was shaking his head trying to take this in. "Mithrandir believed this?"

"Mithrandir was the first to understand and explain it. The first to get some insight into why she felt so very strange and different to us all," Glorfindel replied.

Lindir rose and came over to Penny, crouching down beside her.

"Forgive me if I seem harsh. If all of these in all their wisdom believe you, then so must I. It just seems so… strange."

"I know." Penny choked back the tears. "I know it does, Lindir. I wanted to tell you long ago, and I hesitated because not many people were meant to know and I did not know if you would believe me or how you would react." She glanced up at him. "I lived through it. Every detail, every day of what they were going through. I could not speak or say anything to them about some of what may happen before they left, because I knew… I knew he would fall. I knew it had to be, that any one thing changed might mean Sauron would win. I could not risk that." Her cheeks were wet. "You are used to us mortals dying, perhaps. You live with that knowledge all the time, but I… I…"

"So the rumours about you and Boromir…?" Lindir said quietly.

She shook her head. "I knew he would fall at Amon Hen. I could not bear to get to know him, to possibly become his friend like I already had done with…"

She sobbed as she said Halbarad's name, bringing her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking. Arwen leaned closer to rub her back gently even as Lindir took one hand his eyes, his face filled with concern and sympathy.

"I really thought I was mad. At first I thought it was a trick. I went to sleep in my home and woke up… I was in the middle of nowhere. It was raining. I was in my bedclothes. I was cold and lost and… None of my friends would do something like that to me. I could not understand who had done it or how or why. I was very scared and very confused. I walked nearly all day, trying to find someone or a road or… And Halbarad scared and confused me also. He did not speak my language, and I could not understand how I could have got so far away from home that someone did not understand me. He was dressed in clothes-"

She hesitated.

"Go on," Celeborn said gently, a faint smile on his face as if vaguely amused at what she might be about to say.

"Well, no one wears clothes like this anymore. They have not for hundreds of years. No one wears swords on their belts or has arrows on their shoulders." She looked at Elrond. "I looked at his sword, you know. Touched the blade. He shouted at me so loudly I cut myself on it."

"I know. He told us. He really did wonder if you were mad at that point. You nearly lost a finger." He smiled and there was a faint chuckle from Glorfindel.

"I just… If someone has a sword in my time it is not sharpened. It is for ceremony or play. No one uses such a thing. No one needs such a thing. I wanted to see if… When I realised it was sharp… That scared me so much."

She went very quiet.

"I did not think I would survive the night."

"You did not think to run?" Lindir asked.

"Run where? I had no shoes. And he had a horse, Lindir, he could have caught me. At the same time he fed me and gave me a blanket and did not seem evil. But I…" The tears welled up once more at the memories of Halbarad. "He was so very kind to me and very patient."

There was silence as they waited for her to continue.

"At first I thought people were pretending to live as people did long ago. Perhaps for education or pleasure." Explaining the concept of role-playing in her still only marginally fluent Sindarin would have to wait for another day. "And then I started noticing things… little things… The hobbits were too… Their feet, their size… their pointed ears…"

There were smiles and slightly raised eyebrows at the 'pointed ears' remark.

"And then the scenery and it seemed so old, so… I realised it was no joke. I thought perhaps I was sick, ill… That this was all in my head, like a dream. Then after days and all the details, I realised it could not be a dream. But at the same time, how could it be true? How? How was this possible?" She looked at Lindir, a hint of desperation in her voice suddenly, as if reliving the whole thing once more. "Just as you asked me just now, Lindir: how? Why? I have no idea. Mithrandir had no idea. You just heard that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel do not know. All I know is where I was, and I woke up, and now I am here. And I still half expect myself to wake up and sit up and find myself back home or in an infirmary somewhere with my brother and my m-m-mother…"

She broke down then. Sobbing once more, she turned into the arms of Arwen, who held her just as her grandmother had done previously.

"This is indeed strange," Lindir murmured to himself, still trying to get his head round it all.

"Yet true," Elrond added. "As I said just now, we were sceptical at first, but the detail… She could not have imagined or invented it. She was precisely right too many times. Foreknowledge is general, or specific only in one or two facts perhaps. Not like this. She knew. She knew just as if it had been written down blow by blow. As Galadriel says, once we have spoken to Estel then the rest will be confirmed, but I have no doubt it will do so."

"But-"

Elrond held up his hand. "I know, Lindir. Trust me, I was perhaps amongst the hardest to convince at first."

There were coughs and mutters from Erestor and Glorfindel. Elrond raised an eyebrow at them.

"Nothing. Do, please… carry on," murmured Erestor.

"I do not blame you, Lord Elrond. Nor you, Lindir," Penny said quietly. "I would not believe it if I were in your position, truth be told. I still find it hard to believe. I have… almost got used to elves." She attempted a smile and there was gentle laughter then.

"This explains much, then." Lindir tried to help her lighten the mood. "Your curiousity getting the better of you with orcs, for example."

Celeborn looked alarmed. "What was this?"

"Oh, nothing serious, grandfather. Pen-ii saw more than she might have wanted to, that was all."

"You know about that?"

"But of course, Pen-ii! It is not every day we have a mortal throwing up over dead orcs!" Arwen laughed.

"Well, it is some comfort, perhaps, to know their kind is no longer known in your time, Pen-ii," Celeborn smiled. "And that there are no Eldar is not unexpected."

Silence fell, if only for a moment. It was not exactly sad, either, more a resignation that what would come to pass was inevitable and long written.

"It is our loss," Penny said quietly. "But you will go West and you will be happier there. Better for you not to see what becomes of this place when you all go."

She looked up and caught Galadriel regarding her with a sad smile. She was suddenly struck by the words she had just used and could not stop the phrase 'I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel' flitting through her head. Galadriel's eyes widened slightly in astonishment, her gaze seemed suddenly sharper.

If anyone else noticed they did not react or comment on it.

"Is it really so bad?" Celeborn was serious. "You have no dark lord, no orcs…"

"We have something nearly as bad: humans. Morgoth's shadow will never leave Arda. You know that. Now I understand that that is what it is. I have never experienced war or battle firsthand, but that does not mean it does not occur. It does. And it is perhaps far more terrifying than anything experienced by you."

Celeborn raised a very sceptical eyebrow. "As one who knows nothing of war, you speak with certainty. I doubt it, Pen-ii, with all my respect to you."

"I do not expect you to believe me. And indeed humans fighting each other is perhaps not the same as facing great evil terrors like Balrogs or orcs or trolls or Sauron himself. But the damage done… the weapons… the number of dead..."

She trailed off. How she had got onto this she had no idea, but she felt she should stop now before the hole she was digging got any bigger.

"Mithrandir said something about this. Said you had suggested he would not want to know and he had agreed."

"Yes, Elrond. That is true."

Glances were exchanged, mainly by the ellyn. All were warriors, all had seen battle and knew what it was to know fear, see death and smell blood. If Mithrandir had hesitated asking more…

"We will have to take you at your word," Elrond said at last. "Perhaps you are right and it is best that we not remain to see such things."

Penny noticed his choice of words: 'remain'. Of course, one amongst them had made her choice already. She would not remain, it was true, but for an entirely different reason that that of her father.

"Come," Glorfindel said suddenly. "If Lindir is satisfied as much as he can be, and the Lord and Lady do not object, shall we go and join in the dancing and song we can hear in the distance? Otherwise we will arrive too late for Pen-ii to enjoy it before she needs to take her rest. I also intend to sample some of Rhimlath's plum brew which he says is rather fine this year."

"You may regret that decision," Celeborn laughed. "It has the kick of a mule."

"Excellent!" Glorfindel grinned.

As they stood and made to leave, Penny, having recovered herself a little, turned to Lindir.

"I realise this seems strange, and I am sorry I did not tell you before… Will you forgive me?"

"Of course. With knowledge such as yours, I understand why Lord Elrond and the rest were so cautious about who knew." He looked at her, as if reassessing her, taking her in for the first time. He nodded, as much to himself as to her. "It will take a little time for me to accept it, perhaps, but I believe you. For the first time in a while, I feel you are not lying or hiding anything from me. Whether it is true or not, you believe it. The others here say it is true, and that is enough for me. You are my friend, Pen-ii. You shall always remain so, I hope."

She smiled. "Thank you, Lindir. It means a lot to me that you can be so forgiving."

"Ah, well now, do not speak too soon. I demand at least one dance tonight. One dance or I will not forgive you at all!" He grinned.

"Not fair!"

"Perfectly fair. More than reasonable, in fact."

They bickered all the way back to the clearing.

I hasten to add, before anyone points it out, that I am not comparing the French to trolls, even though the French (and probably others) consider horsemeat perfectly acceptable eating. It merely occurred to me as I was writing that section that that would be the kind of thing trolls would do: kill and eat horses. Probably the least of their sins, I would have thought.

Chapter 13 - Hitchcock Would Be Proud

The evening passed easily enough. Penny felt a strange mixture of relief and anxiety throughout it, though. She kept catching Lindir looking at her oddly, though if he realised it, his face would always break into a reassuring smile. It was clearly a lot for him to take on board and would take time for him to get used to.

Penny did not stay long at the impromptu festivities. Meaning she left before the early hours and the rest probably got little or no rest at all. But then elves do not need rest the way humans do.

Penny felt bad about leaving early since Eleniel and Mireth insisted on accompanying her.

"No, you stay. Enjoy yourselves. I'm just tired, that's all."

And not just with the travelling. The little scene in the glade with Galadriel and Celeborn had left her feeling drained. After two cups of wine she felt like she was about to zonk out there and then.

"You cannot go to sleep all by yourself," they protested.

"Well, then promise me you will go back after I have collapsed. Really, I can cope by myself… Honest, I can!"

They would not accept 'no' for an answer.

"So, you met the Lady of the Wood at last," Mireth was saying excitedly as Penny had a quick wash and then combed out her hair. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"Yes. A great honour." Penny's tone was thoughtful. "She… she was a great help to me. Lord Celeborn also."

"They have told you something of your past?" Eleniel asked.

"Not exactly."

Penny put down the comb and looked at the pair of them, sitting on the cot next to hers.

"They advised me to be more open with those who do not know my story. I… Well…" She floundered suddenly.

Eleniel smiled.

"We realised long ago there was more to you than perhaps we were told. It is not every day we have strangers such as you in Imladris, and the fact that you were taken under the wing of both Erestor and Lindir at Lord Elrond's insistence…"

"Your long talks with Elrond," Mireth added.

"As well as those with Mithrandir," Eleniel continued.

"Oh." Penny blinked.

"Do not look so alarmed," Mireth laughed. "And we do not blame you for not speaking sooner. You had your reasons and were no doubt acting under the guidance of those far wiser than all of us sitting here put together." She reached out for Penny's hand, laying hers on top. "We are your friends, Pen-ii. We understand some of what the situation may be."

Best to come straight out with it, then.

"I had foresight. The War, the Nine Walkers… Sauron's fall. In some detail."

"Ah." Eleniel nodded. "I thought it might be something like that."

"You were not the only one." Mireth smiled. "You could have said something. Many of us knew of Estel's history and felt his time was come."

"Arwen for one."

"Well, exactly."

"I know I could have spoken, perhaps should have," Penny replied. "But… Elrond advised that as few people know as possible. Since the War finished I have wondered if I should speak and, if so, then when… I did not know if-"

"Lady Galadriel has now advised you do so?" Eleniel interrupted.

"It was Lord Celeborn, actually, but Lady Galadriel hinted at it also."

Mireth's face broke into a wide grin. "Well, there you are, then. So now we know and you do not have to worry, and everything is fine!"

"Well, yes… I suppose…" Penny had not expected this to all go quite as smoothly. She berated herself a little for having waited so long to say anything.

"When you say 'in some detail'…?" Eleniel suddenly looked serious.

Penny looked at her. "I knew about some of those who would fall. I knew much of what they might face on their journey: Moria, Mordor… the actions of Saruman…"

Mireth's expression suddenly matched Eleniel's. "Poor Pen-ii. Now I understand why you were so very quiet and withdrawn after they left."

Eleniel said nothing but came to sit beside Penny, wrapping her arms around her.

Mireth sighed. "I take it Arwen knew? At least she was able to comfort you a little."

Penny nodded as Eleniel pulled back from her. "Yes, though it was difficult given much of what I knew concerned Estel. I did not feel I could talk about it too often or in too much detail."

"Well, it is over now, yes?"

Penny did not answer. Mireth and Eleniel exchanged the briefest of glances.

"Oh, Pen-ii…" Eleniel whispered. "Is it very bad?"

"No. Serious, but not… It does not concern the elves."

"Well, we shall have to try and take your mind off it," Mireth said brightly. "We shall keep you busy and entertained as best we can."

"Well, yes, you have your little outing with Rhimlath to look forward to tomorrow, for a start." Eleniel smirked.

"Oh, don't!" Penny groaned.

They laughed.

"Actually, if truth be told I am really looking forward to it. I have heard and know so much about Lothlorien that it will be wonderful to see it. … Even if I do have Rhimlath droning on at me all the while."

"Yes, but you managed to drag Lindir into the trap of his own making. That should compensate somewhat."

"I notice you managed to avoid being invited." Mireth raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"I was engaged in conversation." Eleniel looked straight faced but there was a twinkle in her eye that belied it. "I did not know what was going on until too late… Fortunately. You both know I would have been delighted to join you, Pen-ii."

The three exchanged a glance for a moment and then fell about giggling.

As it happened, Rhimlath's guided tour did not begin straight away. First there was washing to be done. Early, straight after breakfast, Penny, Mireth and Eleniel along with several other ellith gathered themselves and their journey-stained clothes together and wandered through the trees to where a stream ran downhill. Given their numbers the visitors could not all do this at once. Rather a steady trickle of ellith would come here throughout the day and the ellyn would repeat the procedure tomorrow. Much like in Bree, slabs had been set into the bank to act as steps, seats and a platform to bash cloth against.

They got stuck in.

Once you got used to the sheer physical energy needed to handwash clothes like this, it was quite enjoyable. It was good exercise, that was for certain. Penny was that much fitter and stronger than when she had first arrived thanks to doing this on a regular basis, more than the gardening. It was also quite a sociable affair since you were never alone. Someone would start up a tune and everyone would join in. Gossiping was a large part of washing clothes, too. Penny grinned and joined in the laughter as the ellith related tales or calamities and embarrassments that had befallen various inhabitants of Lothlorien. The few locals that had joined them added or corrected various bits and then told tales of their own.

It helped to make an otherwise laborious and tedious job pass all the quicker. It was barely mid-morning when Penny, a basket of damp clothes under her arm, tramped back to the camp, arm-in-arm with Eleniel and with Mireth singing a tune that even Penny now knew the words to and could join in on for the chorus.

The tents for the males were on the other side of the clearing to those for the ellith, and so anything that was placed behind their respective groups of tents and awnings would not be visible to the others. Lines were run from the ellith's tents to the nearby trees for wet clothes. In this way undershifts and leggings could be dried in the open air without too much embarrassment and comment. Penny presumed, correctly, a similar arrangement had been made for the ellyn.

Their clothes hung out, Eleniel wondered out loud if they should bathe now or later.

"We need time for our hair to dry," Mireth pointed out. "Added to which the nearer to this evening's festivities, the busier it will be."

'It?' Penny was alarmed. 'Please don't let it be yet more communal bathing. PLEASE!'

Much to her relief, it was not.

In fact 'it' turned out to be a dedicated bathing house. Indeed there were several of them dotted throughout the city. Needs must since most lived up in the branches. Trying to get water pumped up into the trees would have been possible, perhaps, but ridiculously unnecessary and very difficult given the height the water would have to reach. Why bother when you could just have buildings for the purpose of bathing on the ground? Far more practical.

In each of the bath houses, water was diverted from some of the streams and tributaries that ran through the city to a tap positioned directly over large 'boilers' not dissimilar to the ones in Imladris. These were positioned at one end of a long, low building that contained cubicles with tubs in them. Another tap was available for cold water, as well as a permanently stocked supply of buckets, jugs, towels, soaps, shampoos, scented oils and various other herbal necessities kept in glass, stoppered jars.

Of course, when Mireth, Eleniel and Penny got to the one nearest to their camp they realised everyone else had had the same idea about going early to beat the rush. There was already a group of ellith outside waiting for a second load of water to heat and for the first group already washing to vacate the tubs.

They decided to grab the nearest passing Galadhrim and ask to be shown where another female bathing house was.

It turned out to be a bit of a walk.

"Well, we're getting to see something of Lothlorien, at least," Mireth commented.

Every time Penny passed by a set of stairs winding up a tree from the ground, or else a ladder leaning up against a trunk, she had to resist the urge to go exploring.

"Is it not wonderful?" Eleniel beamed.

Their guide finally directed them to a similarly built long, low building to the one they had left. Here too they had been beaten to it by others with the same idea, but they were fewer in number so at least there would not be so long to wait. They joined the others and chattered quietly.

As the little cubicles (they could not strictly be termed 'rooms' since the dividers between them did not reach the ceiling) became free one by one, those waiting helped fill a tub for one of their number. The Briton in Penny raised a mental eyebrow at the haphazardness of the queuing system (in that it did not exist at all) but she said nothing.

Penny helped Mireth fill her tub and then insisted Eleniel take the next one that came free. Much as she was desperate to have a good scrub, she knew how much more this meant to them than it ever could to her, being elves and thus obsessed with cleanliness. As it happened the tub that became free next was between the two of them, so as they soaked and washed, the three chatted or listen to the gossip floating over the dividing screens.

It was communal without the 'communal bathing' element. Penny liked it.

As Penny lay back in the warm water, she smiled, letting a gossipy story wash over her head of some elleth from long ago who had somehow managed to get herself dangling near enough naked from a talan by one ankle only to then be rescued by an over-enthusiastic ellon who had heard her shrieks of alarm (much to her eternal embarrassment, though he - unsurprisingly, perhaps - became her betrothed not long afterwards).

Ah, this was the life.

"Much better than a freezing cold river, eh, Pen-ii?" said a voice drifting over the top of the screen to her right.

"You read my thoughts precisely, Eleniel."

They wandered back to camp at a leisurely pace in a group of eight or so. Penny suddenly felt very much 'one of the girls,' which was quite a nice feeling. The proceedings of the night before had to some extent lifted a weight from her that she had not really realised she was carrying. She wondered if this was what Galadriel had meant about 'feeling freer than she had done up till now.' Very probably, Penny suspected.

They found Lindir and Rhimlath waiting for them. Rhimlath had clearly been giving Lindir chapter and verse already since Lindir had a faintly frazzled look about him and seemed inordinately pleased to see them all.

"Oh, there you are! At last! Thank Elbereth!"

"I was just telling Lindir about our itinerary for the day,LadyPen-ii," Rhimlath explained.

There was faint giggling from some of the group as Lindir quite clearly winced.

"It is a shame we have lost most of the morning already," he continued, "But no matter."

"It is getting near to lunch, Rhimlath," Lindir pointed out. "Could we not-"

"There is a good while yet before then, Lindir. I was thinking we might collect a few edibles and take them with us. That way we can eat elsewhere as we wander round the city rather than have to come all the way back here. Besides which, I am sure Lady Pen-ii would wish to get started straight away. There is a lot to see. What do you say, Lady Pen-ii?"

"Well, um, I, er," spluttered Penny.

"Good, good. Right, well, let us get going, then." Rhimlath was all breeziness and cheery smiles.

"I will take these and put them away for you if you like," Eleniel murmured. She could barely contain her smirk as she collected Penny's things from her arms before Penny could stop her.

"You could always join us," Penny replied, her eyes narrowing and her smile slightly forced.

"Oh, yes, please do, Eleniel!" Rhimlath beamed.

"Ah, I have something to do. Urgent. Cannot wait..."

Eleniel mumbled something indistinct even as she headed, as fast as she decently could, towards the tents. The other elleth followed her before Rhimlath could invite them also.

Lindir may have been bored to tears but Penny actually thoroughly enjoyed Rhimlath's tour. He led them through glades and past fountains, explained gardening schemes and building techniques, lectured on histories and significances, the artistic merits or otherwise of everything they saw. There were many buildings on ground level, mostly for practical purposes, but some were living quarters also. As in Imladris, there were areas for smithing, for crafts and artistry, archery practice and stables, and much more besides.

Rhimlath was clearly trying to cram in as much as possible.

"May I remind you that there is an evening of festivities tonight, Rhimlath. We do not want to exhaust Pen-ii too much by going too far." Lindir was trying to find any excuse to call a halt to it all.

"Ah, yes, you are right. We perhaps will have to cut it short and continue tomorrow."

"Continue… What?!"

"Oh, yes, please!" Penny practically bounced.

"You are enjoying this far too much, you know," Lindir hissed at her.

"Yes, but… it is Lothlorien, Lindir!" She grinned at him. He could see the pure joy and wonder in her face and could not help but return her smile. "After last night I thought you might better understand what this means to me: to be here, to see it all…"

The place itself had a kind of euphoric affect, Penny had to admit. Added to that was the sheer thrill and exhilaration of being where she was and surrounded by elves being very, very elvish indeed. It was wondrous.

"Ah, I feel like I am a child again. I just want to run!"

She darted off at speed, the bright green grass under her feet, her arms outstretched, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Wheeeeeeeee!"

She ran up to the nearest mallorn and hugged it.

Well, stretched her arms out flat against it, which was the nearest you could get to 'hugging' it, given the width of the thing. She laid her cheek against the trunk, her eyes closed and a beam on her face. She breathed a happy sigh.

Lindir was shaking his head and laughing. Rhimlath seemed torn between bemusement and clear frustration that this was now holding up his tour.

"Yes, just like a child. I can see it now, Pen-ii," Lindir sniggered.

"Yes, but in some respects she is and always will be a child, of course."

Penny peeled herself off the mallorn and looked at Rhimlath.

"Meaning?"

"Well, the Secondborn are like children to us. Not only that you are… what? Eighteen? Twenty-five? Thirty-three?" He sighed as Penny's eyebrows shot up higher and higher at each completely random guess at her age. "Well, under fifty anyway. I always find it impossible to tell with the Secondborn."

"Oh, I see!" Penny retorted, hands on hips. "We all look the same to you, is that it?"

"Well," Rhimlath said slowly. "I would not put it quite like that."

"Except that he would." Lindir smirked at Penny, who laughed.

"Ah, but Rhimlath, we cannot all be as old as the Ages, you know. Where would be the fun in that?" Penny grinned. "Now, while this is has all been very interesting so far, when am I going to go upwards, hmm?" She pointed vaguely at the treetops.

"Oh, well, I had not planned just yet-"

"But we will have to go back soon. Lindir's right about tonight, and I do not want to be too tired to enjoy it all. I am so looking forward to it. We can continue tomorrow, but please, can I go up one tree today? Please?"

"You know, I would swear you are regressing back to your childhood with all this kind of behaviour."

She stuck her tongue out at Lindir. "Shush, you!"

Rhimlath raised an eyebrow. He was still not used to one of the Firstborn being spoken to like that.

"Please, Rhimlath?"

"Well, yes, I suppose-"

"Oh, fantastic! Thank you!"

"It will be a long climb…"

"I do not mind."

"A very long climb…"

"It does not matter."

"And we will go very high," Lindir warned.

"I do not care."

Of course, it did matter and she did both mind and care in the end, but she could not say they had not warned her.

The tree Rhimlath took them to had a staircase that wound anticlockwise round the outside of the trunk like a snake coiled round a prey. It was narrow but two people could pass by each other easily enough on its width. Rhimlath led the way and Lindir took up the rear.

Round and round they wound till Penny began to feel faintly dizzy at perpetually going round in circles like that. She stopped to catch her breath. She had no idea how long they had been climbing for. It was still vaguely disorientating for her at times to have no access to a watch or clocks, but most days ambled away without it bothering. She could have been climbing for no more than ten minutes. It felt like an hour, though she felt certain it could not have been anything like that.

"Is it much further?"

Lindir snickered. "We did warn you."

"I am not complaining, only asking, Lindir."

Rhimlath, realising they had stopped stepped back down a few treads. "Not much further now, Lady Pen-ii. We are very high up already. Look."

He gestured about himself.

Penny had not really focused much beyond the steps in front of her as she climbed. She had been aware of leaves crowding in on occasion to her right and the odd branch above her, but not much more. Now she stopped to take it in, she could see they were indeed up in the canopy. In the distance she could make out platforms and figures climbing or descending staircases or ladders in trees nearby. There was, above, one or two walkways just visible through the trees. She clasped the rail, craning her neck upwards to see them. Some were not too far above her at all.

Penny had never suffered from vertigo so she did not think twice about looking downwards, trying to gauge how far they had climbed already. The grass was far distant, but it was hard to determine exactly how far. There was nothing to provide any sense of scale.

Until someone walked across her field of view that was.

Penny's eyes opened wide. Wow. Okay. Yes. They were high up, weren't they?

"Pen-ii?"

She didn't reply. She was fixing her gaze down into the depths below, suddenly aware that the only thing keeping her up this high was a few planks nailed onto a tree.

You see, standing on the roof of a concrete high rise building, or even on the platform of the Eiffel Tower was one thing, but this staircase stuck out from the trunk, supported by A-frames underneath along its length. It was of course, perfectly solid and safe, but Penny's brain was now in overdrive. Below her feet, her brain was telling her, was just one plank of wood and then nothing else except air. A couple of hundred feet of air at least. Followed by hard, solid earth. What if the plank splintered? What if a nail came loose? What if something was rotten or old or had come unstuck or she was too heavy or stepped on just the wrong bit or…?

Lindir and Rhimlath exchanged a glance as they both realised her breathing had quickened. Her grip on the side of the barrier was so tight her knuckles were white.

"Shall we carry on, Lady Pen-ii?" Rhimlath tried to sound cheery.

Still no response.

"Pen-ii, are you feeling well?" Lindir asked gently.

Penny shook her head.

"Do you want to go back down again?" Lindir suggested.

She nodded. Very, very vigorously too.

Again a shared, knowing glance between Lindir and Rhimlath.

"Well, you will need to let go of the rail first," Lindir quietly pointed out, smiling.

She did not move.

He came over to her and forcibly prised her fingers free. He could feel she was practically rigid with fright. The moment she was free from holding on to the barrier she stepped backwards till she was pressed flat up against the trunk.

"I am sorry, Lady Pen-ii." Rhimlath was genuinely apologetic in tone. "It is very high and if you are not used to such things…"

"It is not the height," Penny managed to croak out. "It is…"

She could not even try and explain because that would mean thinking about it even more. She tried to press herself even further back against the trunk, if that were possible, and whimpered slightly. She needed to get off this damn thing and fast. She could feel herself beginning to completely freak out.

Rhimlath noticed her reaction.

"The staircase is perfectly safe."

He jumped up and down a few times to prove his point. The stairs vibrated very gently, as if a breeze had shaken a branch and no more. It was enough to make Penny nearly hysterical, though.

"Do not do that! Please! Stop! No! I need to get off! I need to get down! Right now! I cannot… I…"

She was shaking her head, apologising, trying to stop herself from breaking into hysterical sobs because she knew she was being a complete idiot and yet so overcome with fear that she could not do anything else.

She started down the stairs at a run. The quicker she got off them, or down to a lower level at least, the less far she would fall if the thing collapsed, so she reasoned.

Lindir and Rhimlath started after her, calling her name and telling her to stop or slow down before she tripped and fell down the rest of the flight.

"You will break your neck at that speed, Lady Pen-ii!" Rhimlath was shouting.

"Oh, very helpful!" Lindir snapped at him. "That is all she needs to hear!"

"What? It is true!"

"That is hardly the point! Oh, forget it! PEN-II! STOP!"

She did not stop, though. Not until she was back on solid ground, her heart racing and breathing hard, as much from the run as from the fear. She knew she had been a fool, but at the same time vertigo was vertigo and she did not berate herself too hard. She had not had much control over her reaction, nor expected it to occur.

The two ellyn were right behind her. That they were barely breaking a sweat spoke volumes: that was fit warrior elves for you.

"Right. Can we get an explanation, please?" Lindir shook his head. "We did warn you it was high up, but oh, no, you know better, as usual."

"It was not the height. I have been high up before."

Rhimlath look puzzled and interested but Penny ploughed on before he was able to ask.

"It was the staircase. It is not solid. It sticks out. It…"

She trailed off as two pairs of eyebrows arched at her.

"Are you saying that is poor workmanship?"

"Are you suggesting I would take you onto something that was potentially dangerous?"

"N-no," Penny stammered. "I… It was… I…"

"I'll have you know that staircase is very old. It has stood the test of time. Centuries at least."

"What! And that is meant to reassure me? The older things are the weaker they are and more likely to fall apart!"

"I beg your pardon!" Lindir and Rhimlath looked outraged.

"Ah, now, wait!" Penny replied hurriedly. "That did not come out right. I meant… You see…"

Lindir could not help but laugh. "Ai, Pen-ii. What shall we do with you, hmm? If it is not one thing it is something else with you. Well, we have had some good exercise in that little adventure if nothing else."

"I am sorry. Truly. I had no idea that would happen to me. I have no idea how it happened. I could not help it."

"Do not worry yourself," Rhimlath replied. "It is not uncommon for those unused to such things to find them a little overwhelming." He smiled condescendingly.

"Now, look here, Rhimlath." Penny rounded on him hotly. "This has nothing to do with my being mortal."

"Er, Pen-ii?" Lindir's tone was a warning one.

"Well, it is not."

"Indeed, but no elf would have behaved like that," Rhimlath explained.

"Only because you are used to such things."

"We also have more faith in elvish workmanship," Lindir pointed out. "That staircase has stood for a long time, as Rhimlath just told you. It is as solid as the tree itself."

"I know. I do know that. My brain had other ideas, that was all. I am determined to try again."

"What? Not with me, you will not! I am not going through that again!" Lindir laughed.

"Fine. I will ask Mireth or Eleniel."

"We can try again tomorrow if you like," Rhimlath said kindly. "After all we did agree we would continue the tour, did we not?"

"Oh, yes, so we did." Penny beamed.

"We did?"

"Yes, Lindir, we did."

"I could have sworn we never reached an agreement on that, actually."

"No, no, we said we would do this all again tomorrow," Rhimlath said breezily. "Now, if we are to make it back in time to prepare ourselves for this evening, we had better head off. In fact… Lindir you know the way from here, do you not? I may head back to my talan, if it is all the same to you. I shall see you later."

"Of course, Rhimlath."

"Thank you!" Penny smiled. "And I really do apologise about just now. I feel dreadfully silly."

"No need. We shall make another try tomorrow. Till this evening."

They watched him disappear into the trees then turned and headed towards the camp.

"I am not coming with you tomorrow, by the way."

"But you have to!"

"I most certainly do not! You arranged it, you agreed to it. You can do it all by yourself."

"That is very unfriendly of you."

"No, it is called self-preservation. I would prefer to leave Lothlorien with my sanity intact, if it is all the same to you."

"I thought he was a friend of yours?"

"He is. A very dear and old friend. That does not mean I will put up with his history lessons for two whole days, Pen-ii. Be reasonable."

Lindir did have a point, Penny had to admit.

"Anyway, enough of that. Are you looking forward to tonight? It should be entertaining."

"Yes, very much. Will most of Lothlorien be there?"

"Oh, I expect so. Why?"

"It is just… well… Do you know an ellon called Haldir?"

Lindir looked at her. "I do not think so. Why?"

"He was the one that met the Walkers when they entered Lothlorien. He and his brothers, Rumil and Orophin. I would like to meet them or at least have them pointed out to me."

"Ah, I see. Well, I know an Orophin, and there can only be one. I think I met his brothers once. Yes, yes, I am sure I did now I think of it. Only very briefly, though."

He looked at her for a moment.

"This is all very strange, you know. Very, very strange."

"I realise. I am sorry."

"Do not apologise. Hardly your fault." He smiled. "I am happy if I can help in any small way. If I see Orophin there I will point him out or introduce you."

Penny grinned. She had already been looking forward to this evening, but now… 'Ah, if only the Mary-Sues could see me now,' she thought, a huge smirk plastered all over her face.

Yes, this evening was going to be very interesting indeed.

The vertigo reaction was based entirely on my own experience in the Duomo in Florence. A solid base on which to stand is no problem for me, but the gallery round the inside of the dome of the Duomo is a platform sticking out from the wall. I was paralysed with fear, despite having been to great heights before (and since, might I add), and had to go back down again.

Chapter 14 – "I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me"

The feast was held in a huge glade that was very near the centre of Caras Galadhon. Dusk was gathering, the shadows deepening, as Penny made her way with Mireth, Celebdor, Eleniel and Lindir down paths and over rivulets till at last they reached the spot. Lanterns intricately crafted from various precious metals were hung all round about. They were highly polished and many filled with coloured glass or even bejewelled, so the light shining out from them was changed and reflected in ways that was truly stunning.

There were too many people for there to be tables where all could sit to eat. Instead awnings were stretched between trees at certain points on the edge of the clearing and cushions placed underneath on intricately designed rugs so that people could sit and chatter if they felt so inclined. Already music was playing, and at one end at least three large deer were being spit-roasted. A table nearby was crammed with foodstuffs including cakes and sweetmeats, fruit and whole stuffed birds (big enough to be geese or possibly even swans), and much more besides. Next to that were great kegs of wine and cups enough for everyone. A sort of mulled wine or punch had also been made, and stood in a huge vat with a ladle attached to it by a chain. Garlands of flowers were hung round about, looking as if they had only just been fresh picked. Greenery was strung out across the huge gap between the trees, twisted into great leafy ropes with yet more lanterns dangling from them. There were not many, though, and they were sparsely spaced out since, once night fell, the moon would be nearly full and the stars bright giving quite a bit of natural light.

Penny stood, gobsmacked, trying to take it all in.

"Now, this is a party," Celebdor grinned.

Penny nodded, dully, vaguely aware that the entire place was filled with extraordinarily beautiful beings milling about in an extraordinarily beautiful manner. There had been the feast after the War, of course, but she had known or recognised all the people that had attended that. There were easily twice as many people here, well over half of them strangers, and the 'jaw-droppingly beautiful in a way that made you want to weep' effect was only multiplied tenfold when you got this many elves together and with them all dressed up to the nines.

Penny had a sudden flash of how the royal wedding might be.

'Yay for me and my boring little English human-ness,' she thought. 'Not.'

Lindir was almost immediately lost in the crowd, as was Celebdor, dragging Mireth with him. Eleniel introduced Penny to several ellyn that stepped forward, clearly recognising Eleniel from her previous visit to Lothlorien many years before. Penny was then left stranded with them as one of them dragged Eleniel off for a dance.

Penny was happy enough, though. There was so much to take in and her Sindarin was fluent enough that she could happily eavesdrop on conversations or make herself understood if someone stopped to chat.

She spotted Rhimlath, dressed in a dark forest green and gold. He was deep in earnest conversation with two other ellyn and Erestor. For all his pompous verbosity, Rhimlath was a kindly soul. He immediately realised Penny was feeling a bit at a loss and insisted she have a dance.

"Oh, no, really, I do not think-"

As usual Rhimlath did not even seem to comprehend that 'no' was a word in most people's vocabulary. Penny thus found herself in the middle of a dance that was a little faster and more complicated than the one or two she had tried before.

"Argh! I am sorry! I did try and warn you!" she blurted out as she trod on his toes for the third time.

"No matter!" he beamed back at her, whirling her round into the arms of another ellon before she could say anything more.

"Hello there," Lindir grinned at her as he took hold of her from Rhimlath.

"Oh," was about all the response Penny could summon up before she was back hand in hand with Rhimlath and being half dragged round the clearing once more.

Once it was all over she insisted she needed a sit down. She staggered to the sides as Rhimlath commandeered a slightly more willing partner for the next dance.

"Oh, dear. Rhimlath is enthusiastic in all he puts his mind to, is he not?" Arwen was laughing.

"My head is spinning. And I have not had a drop to drink yet."

Arwen laughed all the more.

"I think you did rather well, considering."

"Considering what, that I cannot dance? Or that he was impeded by my standing on his feet half the time?"

Arwen grinned. "A bit of practice and you will be as good as any here."

Penny raised an eyebrow. "You flatter me over much, Lady Arwen, as you well know. But I thank you for the sentiment and encouragement."

"Well, I have a feeling you will be getting in quite a bit of practice in the times to come. There will be dancing most nights while we are here, and more than likely in Rohan and certainly in Minas Tirith."

Oh, joy.

Her heart sank.

"Very well done, Pen-ii." Erestor came over to them. "As a first attempt at that kind of dance, that was not at all bad. I think Rhimlath would agree."

"Perhaps. Not sure his toes would, though."

And so the evening progressed. The roast venison was superb, the wine light and plentiful, the music cheering and rousing, the dancing never-ending, the chatter inconsequential and filled with joking and laughter. It was a wonderful evening.

"Pen-ii, I would like you to meet a friend of mine."

Lindir grabbed her as she wandered past him with a cup of wine for herself and one for Eleniel. A tall, blond ellon with a slightly serious face and the thick-set shoulders of an archer was standing next to him.

"Orophin, this is Lady Pen-ii who has been staying with us in Imladris under the protection of Lord Elrond. Pen-ii, this is Orophin, a Galadhrim and someone I got to know when I was last here in Lothlorien."

Orophin inclined his head ever so slightly and murmured something about it being an honour. Penny, several glasses of wine downed already, had to stop herself grinning like a loon as she responded in kind.

"Lady Pen-ii was eager to meet you," Lindir continued.

Penny stared at him, appalled. What was he playing at?

"She is most interested in Lothlorien, its history and ways. I feel sure she would wish to know something of life as a border guard. When I said I knew one she asked me expressly to introduce you."

"Really? Ah, well, in that case you must meet my brothers also."

Ah, so THAT was what Lindir was playing at. Orophin disappeared off to find them, giving Penny an opportunity to thank Lindir.

"Flattery will get you everywhere with an elf," he replied. "Had you not realised that?"

"Oh, believe me, I had. That or goading them."

"You did not need to smile quite so broadly at his mentioning his brothers, you know."

Penny gasped. "I did not!"

"You most certainly did. Are they really so well known in this story of yours?"

"No. I mean… Haldir perhaps, but…" She decided to switch tack. "You are mentioned as well. I probably would have been grinning the first time I met you properly if I had not been so scared of the horses and the idea of getting on one."

"Really?" That seemed to bolster Lindir somewhat. He puffed out his chest with pride a little.

"What was that about flattery?" Penny muttered, sniggering.

Orophin returned with Haldir. Rúmil was nowhere to be found. He was probably busy dancing or drinking, so Penny was informed. Haldir was most gracious, and he and his brother answered her questions most politely. They had both been at Dol Guldur, but then so had most of the warrior Galadhrim, it transpired. In fact as soon as the conversation had turned to that subject, she was forgotten. Orophin and Haldir, with the help of other ellyn nearby who were now joining in, told Lindir all about it practically blow by blow. At one point Haldir insisted on rolling up his sleeve and showing Lindir the long scar on his right forearm he still had from an orcish blade during that fight.

Penny suddenly realised that in amongst all the beauty around her she could see the odd fainter line on the skin of one or two faces or hands in the crowd. She now spotted that one of the ellyn who was helping to serve wine had lost two fingers, while another she could see nearby either had his arm strapped up under his tunic or else had lost part or all of the limb since one sleeve was pinned to his side.

Penny found it quite distressing once she had started noticing it, and once started she could not stop.

"Is this conversation your doing?" a quiet voice asked in her ear. She turned. Elrond was smiling gently.

"Yes, I am afraid. Though…" She gestured to the group of ellyn discussing tactics, battle moves, and describing death-defying moments in graphic detail (as well as bickering over their respective death counts, of course). "It seems to have gained a life all of its own."

Elrond chuckled. "Well, if you will start warriors off on these topics."

At which point he waded in with tales of derring-do on the slopes of Orodruin.

Penny blinked and looked slightly bewildered. What the hell had she started? Not that she was complaining – it was all fascinating, if a little alarming.

It was Galadriel who came to her rescue.

"Now, now, now," she clapped her hands as she glided towards them. "Enough of all this talk. This is a feast of celebration that we have so many friends and loved ones with us for the first time in so very long. Could we keep stories of beheaded orcs and dismembered trolls for another time, do we think?"

"What is all this?" Celeborn was beside her almost instantly. "What did I miss? Boasting again, Elrond?"

"Not exactly," Elrond retorted.

"Now, I could tell you a tale or two from Doriath-"

"What did I just say?" Galadriel interrupted him. "They need no encouraging. Besides, there are all these delightful ellyth that need dance partners and you are all standing about comparing notes on gruesome battle details. For shame! I need a dance partner, Arwen will be free for the next dance… Lady Pen-ii here will need a partner also. Haldir, are you free perhaps?"

Haldir looked nearly as startled and taken aback by this suggestion as Penny did. He recovered himself well, though.

"But of course, my lady."

"Ah, no, you see… um, wine… Eleniel..." Penny waved the two cups at them all. "Another time perhaps. Forgive me, Lord Haldir."

She fled.

"Lord? Lord Haldir?" Orophin was laughing hysterically.

"She was just being polite. As a Secondborn it was most proper and generous of her." Haldir's tone made it clear he felt Orophin could probably learn a thing or two from Lady Pen-ii.

Not long after that the music stopped and a hush fell on the crowd. Celeborn and Elrond both said a few words, invoking blessings on the coming union as well as on the lasting friendship and alliance between the peoples of Imladris and Lothlorien. It suddenly occurred to Penny that the date for most of them sailing West had perhaps not yet been decided upon. She knew full well there would be some that would stay – Celeborn for start would not sail with his wife – but the wording made it all seem so open-ended, as if it would continue just as it had done, and yet she knew that not one elf standing there thought that things had not changed, that now Sauron was gone their time was come at last.

They had been waning before; now the mantle had truly been passed over to the mortal races.

As she scanned the crowd, sitting next to Eleniel, she spotted Haldir and Orophin chatting with a third ellon who bore so strikingly a similar resemblance to them that he had to be Rúmil. Rúmil did seem to be teetering slightly, and thus obviously had indeed been camped out at the wine table earlier as had been suggested.

In a flash, Penny realised that within her line of sight were Haldir and his brothers, Celeborn, Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel. In the same split second that she realised this, and entirely without warning, snatches of nearly every slash fic she had ever come across were speeding through her brain.

'Thank God the twins and Legolas aren't here!'

To her horror she then realised that, the speeches over, Galadriel was meandering through the crowd and heading her direction. Of course, the more she tried to not think about a fictional Glorfindel seducing an equally fictional Erestor or an out of character Haldir mooning about over an overly effete Legolas, the more it refused to leave her brain. She tried focusing on the first tune that came to her, but that was not helped by the minstrels starting up nearby and playing something completely different. In desperation she ended up sticking her fingers in her ears and humming along to The Ride of the Valkyries.

"Pen-ii? Are you well?"

Penny lifted her head and took her fingers out of her ears sheepishly. "Yes, yes, I am fine, Eleniel…" Eleniel could see that something was troubling her, though. "Talk to me, Eleniel. Talk to me about anything. I need to think about something."

"But of course."

Eleniel somehow seemed to take this request completely within her stride despite Penny's desperate and faintly pleading tone. She started pointing out the minute detail in the embroidery on all the tunics and dresses nearby. She explained the stitches, the beading used, the threads, how the threads were dyed and so on.

Penny was so grateful.

"Lady Pen-ii," Galadriel murmured as she came up to them. "Lady Eleniel. You are having a pleasant evening, I trust?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, my Lady." Eleniel beamed.

Penny nodded, smiling, but concentrating very hard on the intricate flower detailing on the sleeve of Galadriel's dress. If Galadriel noticed she did not say anything and immediately moved on.

Penny let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Eleniel. Thank you so much."

Eleniel smiled. "It can get like that sometimes. When the foresight comes upon you, it can be hard to think about something else." She spoke as if from experience.

Penny glanced at her. Far better to let her think that was what had happened than even consider trying to explain.

"Any time, Pen-ii, you just ask." She smiled.

Penny was suddenly struck by what a good friend she had in Eleniel. "I cannot thank you enough," she said quietly.

"Nonsense," Eleniel laughed. "I know you would do the same for me. Now, shall we have another cup of wine, or shall we try and find someone to give us a dance?"

They must have overheard because almost immediately several ellyn appeared and offered their hands to Eleniel simultaneously. She blushed and giggled and accepted the nearest one to her. The ones that were left then offered to take Penny for a spin round the glade, but Penny refused after hearing the speed of the tune, let alone seeing the kind of complex steps and turns involved.

A little later in the evening, she finally managed to meet Rúmil, though it was not quite the encounter she might have expected or wanted. He was really quite tipsy at that point and had interrupted Rhimlath as he passed by on some point of information Rhimlath was busy pontificating about. Rhimlath seemed irritated at first and then outraged when everyone agreed Rúmil had a point. It would seem Rhimlath, for all his gentleness, felt his intellectual bookishness was his pride and joy and did not take correction easily. He conceded the point but glared daggers at Rúmil for a good few minutes afterwards.

Penny felt quite sorry for him. Rúmil had not been tactful, but then he had had one too many, so it was hardly surprising. She would have offered to give Rhimlath a dance to take his mind off it except she felt in no position to do so and also felt Rhimlath's feet would not have recovered sufficiently from the last time.

The conversation turned. Celebdor suddenly asked Penny if she had recovered from her 'alarming experience'. Penny blinked and then realised Rhimlath and Lindir had been busy 'not keeping their mouths shut' about her vertigo attack.

She was busily explaining that it was nothing, really, and she was determined to crack it next time and get up to a talan even if it killed her when Rúmil interrupted her suddenly by declaring he wanted a dance. He looked around to see no elleth near him except Mireth who had Celebdor by the hand. He turned back to Penny.

'Oh, no…!' Penny felt her stomach drop.

Before she knew what was happening, Penny found Rúmil practically dragging her onto the floor. She noted Lindir, rather than backing up her protests, was telling Rúmil that this was a very good idea and she needed to learn a few more steps. He had a huge grin on his face. She decided she would have to get him back for that at some point.

"Mind out for your toes though, Rúmil," Lindir shouted at him as they disappeared into the throng.

Penny could have happily throttled him.

The pace was fast, the steps insanely complicated and Penny gave up trying almost instantly. Rúmil was drunk enough to have energy for the both of them, though, and steamed about the dance area more or less carrying her through the entire thing. He seemed determined to treat her as if she was actually as tall as an elleth, thus holding her round the waist half the time with a grip strong enough to ensure her feet dangled a good few inches off the floor.

After a while, she had got the hang of the basic moves and managed to do those without the fancy footwork or too many twirls. She almost began to enjoy herself. Rúmil was grinning and nodding as if encouraging her and that helped increase her confidence. It was boosted further when he refused to let her sit down after the tune had ended and insisted she dance a further two turns with him.

At the end of it all she was ready to collapse.

Rúmil picked her up, carried her to the edge to where Eleniel and Mireth were seated, both clearly highly entertained by this performance, and unceremoniously plonked her on a pile of cushions next to them.

"Wait there and I will get us a drink." So saying, he disappeared once more.

Penny struggled to get her breath back. She glanced at the two ellith who dissolved into laughter.

"What is it with ellyn not realising I do not wish to dance?" Penny exclaimed, bewildered.

"Ah, but we all enjoy dancing. There is not anyone who does not enjoy it."

"Indeed, it is as Eleniel says. I think also they wish to help you learn a little."

"Any opportunity to show off their skills, whether as a dancer or tutor."

"Ah, I see. I think the latter is probably more to do with it," Penny muttered.

Mireth laughed. "I think you are right. Especially where Rúmil is concerned, I suspect."

Rúmil brought back drinks for all four of them. He had barely handed out the wine before he had downed his and was asking Eleniel for a turn. Eleniel hesitated but, just like Penny before her, got little chance to refuse since Rúmil was already bending down to grasp her hand and pull her to her feet.

"Er…" was all Eleniel managed as she glanced back over her shoulder at Mireth and Penny.

They merely smirked, laughed and waved her farewell by way of response.

Penny and Mireth's giggling was interrupted by a serious voice asking if Penny would forgive Rúmil his boisterousness.

"But of course, Lord Orophin. I was flattered, truth be told."

"Ah, well, that is good of you, Lady Pen-ii. Even so…"

Orophin glanced behind him a little anxiously to where his brother was busy bouncing Eleniel round the glade. Eleniel was enjoying it, but there was a faint look of alarm to her eyes, as if she feared he may let go any second and she would be sent flying into the crowd.

In the end Haldir and Orophin had to practically sit on Rúmil at the request of various ellith (and their respective husbands, fiancés, brothers or fathers) since he was getting a tad over-exuberant. Not only that but he had been spotted making a beeline for Galadriel. Lord Celeborn would not have been amused.

Thus, when Penny finally admitted defeat and was found falling asleep in the corner of an awning in the early hours while around her the feasting showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon, Rúmil was packed off to show her the way back to the glade where they were camped. This ensured that not only would she not get lost but also that he would get some air, burn off some energy and stop harassing people for a dance for a little while. It was also hoped it might give him time to sober up a little bit.

Rúmil did not seem at all bothered at being dumped with taking Penny back. However, he was also too inebriated to make any pretence at being at all interested in her either. Penny did feel he could have made more of an effort but was too tired to care. She tried starting up a conversation a few times but got little more than one word answers in response or else he would go off into tangents such as how the moon a beautiful shade of blue this evening. He also had a tendency to slip into Silvan which did not help matters.

The most animated he got was when she mentioned how Rhimlath had been showing her round earlier that day.

"What in Arda did you let him do that for?"

"Well, he offered and I was interested."

"Rhimlath could bore the leg off a troll."

"He was very courteous."

"Never suggested he was not."

There was not much more to be said after that.

When they got near to the clearing Penny recognised where she was. She insisted Rúmil return since she knew her way from here. He was suddenly serious. He shook his head.

"No, no, cannot do that. Haldir would have my head if he knew I had not escorted you to your door."

"Oh, well, to the clearing will be just fine, Lord Rúmil."

"No, he was very specific. Door. To the door." He leant out an arm casually to lean against a tree before he fell over. "What are you doing in Imladris anyway? You are not Dunadan, are you?"

"Er, no. No. I was lost and one of the Dunedain found me and-"

"Ah, yes, yes. Orophin said something about it all. Lindir told him. Lindir's a friend of yours, yes?"

"Yes." She looked at him. He showed no signs of moving anytime soon. "Shall we carry on?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, yes, of course!" He suddenly leapt to her side, his eyes slightly too bright and his smile a little too wide. "To your door, indeed!"

They were there soon enough. He did indeed walk her right up to the entrance to her tent, leaving her with a bow and wishing her a very good night. He was being very gracious.

"Thank you, Lord Rúmil. You have been most kind. Go back and have a few more dances." She grinned. "Or even a bit more to drink."

"No, no. I will never hear the end of it if I get any more drunk. My wife would kill me."

He turned on his heel and wandered off into the dark, though dawn was breaking, turning the night into mere shadows already. He whistled a tune to himself, leaving a somewhat stunned Penny behind him.

Married? He was married?

She blinked for a moment before collapsing into hysterics at the thought of Mary-Sues committing hara-kiri at the very idea.

Yes, I know JRRT was considering making Celeborn one of the Teleri see Unfinished Tales, but I prefer the version where he's Sindarin and a kin of Thingol. Sue me. ;P

Also, before anyone lynches me over marrying Rumil off – remember that LACE makes it clear most elves were usually married while still relatively 'young' (in elvish terms), so it is more than likely that many of our erstwhile heroes are, indeed, married. Besides which you should consider yourselves lucky – I was considering having him or one of his brothers killed in the attack on Dol Guldur… but I knew I really WOULD be lynched if I did that. *snerks and ducks the rotten tomatoes*

Chapter 15 – Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

The week in Lothlorien passed both slowly and all too quickly at the same time. It was faintly surreal, Penny decided later, but then that was nothing new. Surreal seemed to make up her entire existence these days.

She was able to relax far more than she had in a long time, though, and slowly grew to understand the wisdom in Galadriel and Celeborn's actions. With all of Lothlorien to wander in she was able to talk freely with Lindir, as well as Erestor and Glorfindel on occasion. Arwen and Elrond were rarely seen except in company, given they were so busy with friends and family.

She talked of her life and answered Lindir's questions as best she could. There were limits to what she would discuss, and Lindir was wary of making her feel too homesick, but he was brought up to speed with much that Erestor and the others had heard or guessed before now. She spoke at length of things musical, at his insistence and increasing fascination. She did her best to try and describe the different varieties, some of the instruments and snatches of tunes of various things – popular and classical, operatic and musical. She knew very well she was not doing any of it any justice, but Lindir did not grow tired or bored of anything she told him in this regard. He was vaguely frustrated that she could only remember snatches of tunes from what she described as long pieces involving many instruments, but Penny was no classical musician nor had ever had much interest in it. She apologised profusely, and did the best she could.

She also made it up into the canopy as she had hoped.

But only late in the week…

And at the fourth attempt…

And only after being plied with several cups of wine over lunch by Lindir, who was sick of hearing her bemoan the fact that she could not get up there.

Suffice it to say that, with alcohol and a lot of shoving and pulling involving a party of six of elves or so (thus ensuring she had no escape and lots of chatter to take her mind off it all), she got all the way up there at last. Once there she enjoyed it so much she did not want to come down again.

Rhimlath found her awe and entrancement endearing, if quaint, and even went so far as to show her round his own talan. She had stood in the doorway in reverent silence as if hardly daring to breathe.

Everyone else thought it amusing.

Well, all except Lindir, perhaps, who understood far better the deep significance attached to each such moment for Penny. Normally he would have been the first to pull her leg about it all, but he was actually very understanding and went out of his way to point things out to her, indeed force her over walkways (carried her, in fact, at one point, while she clung to him frozen in fear, head buried in his shoulder and too scared to even scream) since he knew she would kick herself later if she did not manage it all.

The week passed by in a flurry of inactivity. Long, slow walks, chatter and song with evenings filled with more chatter, more song, as well as plenty of wine and dancing thrown in.

Mireth and Penny went exploring nearly every day. Penny in fact persuaded Mireth to come with her on Rhimlath's continued guided tour. Celebdor then branded Penny (jokingly) a bad influence on his betrothed, since Mireth seemed to be genuinely looking forward to it and tried to rope him into joining them, thanks entirely to Penny's enthusiasm.

That same day after the feast also saw a minor crisis of logistics as Penny had to explain to Arwen, Eleniel and Mireth that she needed to know how to clean, and more particularly dry, her 'period cloths' with some degree of privacy. The lines behind the tents were discrete enough, but once they left Lothlorien, Penny would still have a few more days to go and was worried discretion would no longer be an option.

"Do not worry, Pen-ii. With this many in the company, there will be several separate smaller fires near tents as individuals make herbal teas or their own particular food. A fire for us, set apart from the rest, over which you can dry the cleaned cloths will not attract comment in the slightest."

Arwen was always so sane and kind.

It did mean, of course, Penny could not have a bath before they left. She had a good stand up wash, though, and made sure to wash her hair. Who knew when she would next have such luxury again? Minas Tirith possibly, but even that seemed to be doubtful. The day before they left she, Mireth and Eleniel went to a little hut at some distance from their encampment to stock up on soap and shampoo for the remainder of the journey.

"You will have to stop using soap to wash clothes, you know," Eleniel said to her. Penny looked far from convinced. "It is very wasteful and not necessary, but after we leave Lothlorien… well, I dread to think what soap they may have in mortal habitations. You may need to make your soap last a very long time."

"Do they even have soap?"

"Of course they do, Mireth," Penny laughed. "Just not of the same quality."

"Or effectiveness," muttered Eleniel.

Rhimlath would be joining them on the journey south, as would a retinue of about thirty Galadhrim made up of several of the personal guard of Celeborn and Galadriel (forever dressed in their white and silver) or else close friends of Arwen and notables of Lothlorien. Haldir and his brothers were not among them, nor any of their wives. Penny had met all three of the ellyth during the course of the nightly impromptu dances, and found them all charming. Rumil's wife obviously had the patience of a saint, but also a light, trill laugh that showed she enjoyed the lighter side of life just as her husband did. They were clearly perfectly matched.

They set out early one morning through the gates of Caras Galadhon to the sound of singing filtering down through the tree branches above them. The song was met and matched by those in the wedding party and continued on for long after they had crossed the bridge and turned west along the encircling white path.

Penny was sorry to leave.

For most of the day they seemed to double back on themselves till they reached a ford in the river Celebrant and crossed it in early afternoon. They continued west for a little while and made camp near the edge of the trees. Then the next morning they started to slowly make their way southwards.

Each day passed much like the next. Their route took them through long low valleys, thickly wooded copses and out into meadows. The mountains, their constant partner, were always to their right. At times, after a few days and from higher ground in the clear early summer sun, you could see quite some distance. Far, far away to the south the pale blue line of the White Mountains stretched across their path. Far nearer and to their right was a dark patch of green that nestled up against the Misty Mountains as they swept slightly to the south-east…

Fangorn.

Penny wondered how close they would travel to it, given they would be passing by it if they went by the straightest route to Rohan.

As they travelled they made camp usually in or near trees and within distance of a brook or preferably a larger tributary that wound its way from the mountains eastwards towards the Anduin. Penny's tent had a few more ellith in it than before as old friends of Arwen joined them. Indeed, for as long as a separate fire was needed for Penny, a little gaggle of ellith joined her soon after the meal every night and spent an hour or two chatting and gossiping. Arwen had asked that a small awning be set up for them every night under which they would set a little fire under the pretext of wanting to make hot drinks and gossip.

Penny would sit quietly, enjoying the banter and tales. Many of the new additions told of when Arwen had stayed for long years in Lothlorien with them.

"No matter how they tried, none of the eligible young bachelors could woo her," one smiled. "They would ask her for every dance, bow and scrape, be at her beck and call but she would just thank them and smile and nothing more."

"Ah, but then Estel came along," another winked.

"Oh, indeed."

"You should have seen her that night after they got betrothed. I think she ran all the way from Cerin Amroth."

"I did not!" Arwen protested.

"Oh, you did! You could barely contain yourself!"

One adopted a very good impression of an over-excited Arwen. "Oh, he kissed me! He kissed me! He kissed me!" They fell about, Arwen laughing with them, even if her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"He was very handsome," one admitted. "For a mortal."

Penny joined in instinctively with Arwen's cry of protest.

"He still is!" spluttered Arwen

"'For a mortal?'" Penny tried to look outraged.

They looked at each other and laughed.

"Well, I ask you!" Penny muttered.

"Indeed," Arwen agreed. "Mortal or no, it was love at first sight." She drifted off into memories with a sigh and a slightly glazed expression.

A Lothlorien elleth started giggling. She pointed at Arwen. "I recognise that face. That is exactly how she looked after coming back from Cerin Amroth that night."

More laughter.

In the end, the few days Penny had to deal with hand washing cloths in a bucket in her tent and then hanging them to dry over the fire were very enjoyable. If any of the ellyn guessed or saw the real reason for it all, they were far too discrete and polite to comment. Penny had no doubt that those on guard duty ranged about would have to have seen, but she had learnt to accept that there was a certain level at which, in this society and lifestyle, you could not be too shy about certain basic necessities and facts.

Let alone when camping.

Even so, there are some things in life it is hard to imagine even if you know they must occur – such as your parents snogging or the Pope in the bath. Thus seeing Galadriel disappear off in the direction of the latrine took some getting used to the first couple of times Penny spotted her. Similarly, knowing Celeborn was around did not make it any easier for Penny to get the image of naked ellyn bathing in a river out of her head every time that was arranged. Quite the opposite, frankly.

She was assured the water was warmer, so she did brave bathing once or twice. She felt horribly self-conscious but realised it was less bother for others if she joined them – no one having to hold up a sheet for her in the tent as she washed, for example – so she made the effort, much as she loathed it.

The Westron lessons, suspended for the duration of their stay in Lothlorien, started up again, much to Penny's despair. Worse, Rhimlath would now join in, which irritated Erestor nearly as much as it did Penny, since he would correct Erestor's pronunciation or grammar declensions.

"I do have to speak to mortals in this tongue on a regular basis," Erestor smiled through clenched teeth.

"Indeed, but you seem to have picked up quite a bit of the local dialect, Erestor. Penny will struggle to be understood if she uses such colloquialisms in Rohan, though perhaps they may understand her better in Gondor. I doubt it, though."

Penny tried to point out she would have difficulty being understood no matter which brand of Westron she learnt. She was all but ignored, though, since Erestor was already declaring that he knew for a fact that the last time Rhimlath had used Westron was with the Fellowship, and he had it on good authority they had not understood a word he said.

"Maura was convinced you were speaking some sort of strange Silvan patois."

Before Rhimlath could even begin to put his indignation into words, Erestor went on to point out that Rhimlath had 'barely used Westron in the last five hundred years at least, if not more' and 'with all possible respect' (by which you might understand Erestor was really very, very riled at this point) he 'clearly did not know what he was talking about.' At which point he banned Rhimlath from intervening further.

It was therefore understandable, perhaps, when Erestor positively exploded a few days later when he found Rhimlath trying to persuade Penny to repeat her lessons back to him late one evening so he could 'correct' any 'minor errors' that 'may have slipped Erestor's attention'.

Two scholarly ellyn bitching at each other was not a pretty sight to behold.

Lindir, of course, found the whole thing hilarious and was busily trying to persuade her to deliberately mis-say the few words she could remember so Erestor could blame Rhimlath, Rhimlath could blame Erestor, and Lindir could laugh himself sick at the pair of them.

Penny, trying not to get involved, though unable to avoid a lot of it (given it concerned her directly), refused.

Only to find out that Lindir had then deliberately taught her some incorrect phrases.

"No, no, NO, Pen-ii!" Erestor was losing his patience. "That is not it at all. I know you try hard not to listen to Rhimlath, but really I can not put up with much more of this."

"Why, what did I say?"

"Actually, Erestor, I believe her mispronunciation comes from the way you insist on over-exaggerating the vowels." Rhimlath, ever hovering in earshot, had jumped in.

Erestor spluttered incoherently for a moment. "Rhimlath! Do you mind?"

"Erestor, as your friend and fellow scholar I have to tell you that your teaching methods are-"

"My teaching methods are perfectly adequate, thank you very much!"

"'Adequate.' Quite."

"Right. That is enough! Celeborn! Would you mind dealing with this nuisance!"

Celeborn seemed to have mysteriously lost his hearing temporarily as his stallion picked up speed a little and he trotted away to join Elrond (who was also keeping a healthy distance from it all).

"'Nuisance'! Who are you calling a 'nuisance'?" Rhimlath retorted hotly.

"When you have both quite finished," Penny interrupted. "You can then tell me what is actually wrong with the phrase Lindir taught me."

Rhimlath and Erestor each raised an eyebrow as they looked at each other, then at Penny, then back at each other.

"LINDIR!" they roared in unison.

Penny gave up any hope of learning any Westron at all before Gondor, let alone Rohan.

She also gave Lindir 'what for' the moment she managed to grab hold of him. Mireth and Eleniel joined in.

"I am finding this hard enough without you deliberately teaching me something incorrect!" she fumed.

"I know, and I apologise," he muttered, somewhat shamefaced. "It was too good an opportunity, though, and it was only that one word. Look at it this way: after all that fuss there is no way you are going to forget it in a hurry."

"Yes, and the word 'she-goat' is so useful to me, Lindir," Penny retorted, scathingly.

"You never know."

Penny glared at him.

Things got so out of hand that Elrond felt forced to have a quiet word with both Erestor and Rhimlath and ask them if they would prefer he took over Penny's tuition. The pair, thin-smiling and united for once, thanked him profusely and over-politely while reassuring him they could resolve their differences.

In the end Penny took her own measures of simply boycotting Westron lessons. Erestor understood completely and blamed Rhimlath entirely. Penny's friends took it upon themselves to test her every now and then on basic phrases and words, most of which she had difficulty retaining for any length of time, and it seemed that would be it in terms of her Westron learning for the time being.

After three days of travelling the separate fire was no longer necessary and Penny and the others mingled amongst the company after supper of an evening. The pattern was much as it had been on the western side of the Misty Mountains with the nights filled with tales and songs while others chatted quietly on the edges of the gathering. Of course now Penny had the added bonus of listening to tales from the Galadhrim. Many told or sung of deeds by which Elrond and Glorfindel had become renowned. One ellon sung most movingly of the deaths of Gil-galad and then Celebrimbor, at the end of which many were in tears, Penny included.

More than once, as had happened on occasion in Lothlorien also, Lindir was expressly called upon by Celeborn or Galadriel to sing or recite something he himself had written.

"You are honoured indeed to have one such as Lindir amongst your friends," a quiet voice said to Penny in the midst of one of these recitals.

"Indeed, Lord Celeborn. I did not realise at first, perhaps, the high regard in which he was held. It is entirely of Lord Elrond's doing: it was he who insisted Lindir teach me how to ride. We have since discovered a common sense of humour and our friendship has grown from that."

"Ah, yes. In some respects Lindir is ever the elfling, despite his age."

'Isn't that true of all elves?' Penny thought to herself, with a snigger. They all had their moments, especially after one too many cups of wine.

"Oh, very possibly, Lady Pen-ii." Galadriel leaned forward to glance at Penny across her husband.

Penny blinked. She could not get used to that.

"Would you recite something from the times of Doriath?" she asked Celeborn, trying to change the subject.

"Well, I am not sure that-"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Mireth had overheard and was beaming. "I for one would most certainly wish to hear it. As would many here, I am sure."

The murmurs spread to all nearby, and Celeborn agreed, albeit a little hesitantly. After Lindir had finished and been congratulated by all, Celeborn stood where he was, cleared his throat and adjusted his tunic.

"It would appear some might appreciate something from the Ancient Tales."

A ripple of delight ran through the crowd and an expectant hush fell filled only with the occasional crackle from the fire.

And so Celeborn, clearly not nearly as reluctant about doing this as he had at first appeared, launched into a lengthy piece of epic poetry that, it transpired, he had written himself.

Some of the phrases in it Penny could not fathom and she guessed were a slightly older usage of Sindarin than she had met up till now, but she understood more than enough to sit as enthralled as everyone else around her. Doriath was immediately brought to life: before her mind's eye stood Thingol and Melian, Beleg and Mablung (though this was probably helped by her having already seen their images on frescos and wall hangings in Imladris, as well as in the carefully painted history books in Elrond's library). He told of Nargothrond's beauty, of the heroic battles with orcs on its borders, even a little of the love of Beren and Luthien. When he described Luthien's fairness he stopped, stepped over to his granddaughter and bent to kiss her brow. It was true: Arwen was very much Luthien's image.

Then came its fall and, at the mention of dwarf attacks and kinslaying, the silent stillness amongst the listeners seemed to deepen. Penny glanced at Elrond, as if to gauge his reaction, nor was she the only one. He sat watching his father-in-law impassively listening, but at the mention of Maglor he bowed his head slightly as if suddenly lost in his own thoughts.

Celeborn, in telling of the tales of battles or defence of the realm, even if he spoke of others such as Beleg or Mablung, invariably used the first person plural: "We beat them back… We drew our blades… Our bows moved faster than lightning…" He became energised, animated, as if reliving it all. Penny suddenly saw him in a different light: no longer the tall, imposing, yet kindly and wise Lord of Lothlorien, but a younger, powerful warrior instilling terror into the hearts of any orc stupid enough to face the wrath of his blade.

It was quite a performance.

Of course, not to be outdone, this started a trend for the next few days, and Penny was treated to the almost amusing spectacle of Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel and Celeborn trying to 'outdo' each other in tales of daring and courage, splendour and historical moments they had been involved in at one time or another. It was clear Penny was not the only one to see this for what it was – namely, competitive (if tongue-in-cheek and friendly) boasting and posturing. The ellith in particular seemed to find it amusing. Penny would seat herself near Arwen, and always beside Mireth or Eleniel, with all of them and any other ellith near them sharing slight smirks and rolling eyes. Penny even caught Galadriel doing it once or twice.

Not that the tales were not truthful, fascinating and enthralling to listen to or, if sung, then done so with beautiful voices to an equally beautiful tune.

But that was hardly the point.

Within just under a week of travel they had crossed the Limlight and reached the northern edge of Fangorn. It loomed in the distance to their right, dark and slightly foreboding to Penny's mind, as it hugged the foothills of the mountains. At first they did not move near it but as the days passed Penny did not know if it was because their path was moving west, or simply because the mountains (and thus Fangorn) slowly inched towards the east, but slowly the forest moved closer to them.

Towards the end of the second week, the forest was clearly visible: the gnarled and thickened trunks on its edges, the branches reaching out towards them, covered in summer's greenery. All during the day, they seemed to be heading straight towards it, or so it appeared, since every time Penny glanced up to her right it seemed to be nearer than it had been an hour or two before. Yet no matter how close they got, you could not see further than the first row of trees. Anything beyond that was lost in darkness.

Penny remembered Celeborn's warning to the Fellowship, and wondered if any attempt would be made by the elves to enter into the depths. She was not sure she wanted to follow, if they did.

"It is an ancient place, as you well know, Pen-ii. Ancient even to the Eldar, which tells you much."

"Yes, I realise that, Erestor. Will we be going into it?"

Erestor seemed surprised by the question.

"Our path lies directly to the south. You know that."

"You did not answer my question."

"I do not know what plans Lady Galadriel may have, Pen-ii."

Ah, so the ellyn clearly did not think it was a good idea to go waking up huorns and ents but the Lady of the Wood had other ideas? Was that it?

Time would tell.

That night, indeed, they camped within an easy march of the forest's edge. Invariably tales turned to it and other ancient forests now long disappeared. Stories of huorns, black-hearted trees and other horrors were told and to the elves this was simply the way of things – they felt no fear, only wonder, interest or mild disgust. For Penny, though, it was the equivalent of telling ghost stories round the campfire. Normally she would have dismissed such things with a scornful laugh, but now she knew that such things existed – just as orcs and elves, trolls and giant spiders all existed – and could not be ignored so easily.

After the third story of a group of edain supposedly never being seen again and nothing being found other than a few crushed, blanched bones many years later, Penny had had enough and took herself to bed. There she slept fitfully and had at least one nightmare till Eleniel came to sit beside her, stroke her brow and sing quietly to her to soothe her dreams.

The following day brought them to within a few yards of the eaves of the forest. After the previous night's stories, Penny's mind was in overdrive. She kept glancing to her right nervously, as if half imagining a tree to take a lunge at her at any moment. She made sure she was on the far left of the company, so there was the relative safety of elves and horses between her and any huorn with malicious intent.

The songs that day were of forests and trees, of nature and the elves' love for it and affinity with it. The branches above them seemed to sway with the breeze… until Penny realised there was no breeze… at which point she tried not to think about it.

Late in the afternoon, earlier than usual, they set up camp. No fire was set and only cold meats and cheese with flattened bread was the early supper while it was still light. Many wandered up to the lines of trees, letting their hands trail on the bark, looking up into the branches, even disappearing briefly into the gloom, but not going far. Penny noted it was mainly the Silvan and Sindarin elves that seemed the most enthusiastic. Most of those with Noldor blood were more reserved, though still behaving in much the same way. All were treating the place with a great respect and reverence, though.

Galadriel was standing a little apart from the rest, staring intently into the depths. Elrond was with her, as well as Celeborn. A small crowd was nearby including Glorfindel and Arwen. There was an expectant air about them.

"Lindir? What is-?"

Lindir held his finger to his lips. Penny, looking round, suddenly realised everyone had stopped moving, many seemed to be listening intently, though she could hear nothing. She turned to Eleniel beside her.

"Eleniel?"

"Do you not hear it?"

"No… What am I meant to-?"

And then she did hear it: a strange rustling sound from deep within the forest accompanied by a low, rumbling boom. As it got louder and closer, the only thing that stopped Penny running in the other direction was the fact that everyone else around her seemed perfectly alright with this, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Then it stopped.

As it did so, Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond and the group with them stepped forward into the trees. Penny noticed that Galadriel seemed the least hesitant of them all.

After some time Erestor reappeared, a smile of relief replacing the serious wariness he had worn before, and silently beckoned those as wished to follow. Penny was practically pushed ahead of Eleniel, and Mireth had her by the arm as they headed into the darkness. The trees were old and gnarled, and just as the hobbits had later described it, the place was filled with a musty oldness that meant that even someone as unaware as Penny knew she was somewhere very weird indeed. Lichens covered everything and hung in swathes from boughs and branches. Penny had the distinct impression she was being watched… and not by the elves around her, either.

Ahead she could see Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn, Glorfindel, Arwen and others in a group in a slight clearing (i.e. a marginally bigger gap between the trees than elsewhere). A rather tall, gangly larch seemed to be plonked right in front of them. Then, as slowly elves appeared around the clearing from all sides, many staying well back in the shadows, the larch moved the upper part of itself slightly.

"Hroom-room-room, ah, so there you all are!" it rumbled, slowly and carefully in Sindarin. "It is a pleasure indeed to have the elves in Fangorn once more after so long. You are all most welcome."

Penny decided then and there she had a phobia of ents.

Her brain was imploding just looking at it. It was a tree and yet it was not. It was talking, and yet it was more like quiet thunder in her head. It was the oddest thing in the world she had every laid eyes on, and given the kind of things she had run up against in the last six months, that was really saying something.

She grabbed hold of Lindir's elbow and half hid behind him.

"You are perfectly safe, Pen-ii," he whispered.

"I know."

She did not come out from behind him, though, nor release the vice-like grip on his elbow.

If the ent noticed a human amongst the faces ranged around him he did not remark on it. Whatever parley or greetings being held between him and Galadriel, Celeborn and the rest, they were still ongoing. As the ent's attention focused back on the powerful elves stood in front of him, slowly the rest slipped away either into the forest for a time or back to camp. Lindir walked for a while, Penny beside him still with a firm grip on his arm, looking about him in wonder. Looking at him, Penny realised he looked different, somehow, as if the weight of years had been lifted from him, not that she had ever really noticed the weight of years on him, if truth be told.

Yes, this place was old even by elvish standards which meant everyone, probably even Celeborn, felt young here. The only exception might have been Galadriel, but even she would have felt a lot younger than usual, Penny suspected. Even Rhimlath was speechless, which was a feat in itself and as was commented upon later.

"Fangorn is to be thanked for small mercies," Erestor muttered later to Penny. Penny could not help but snigger. Poor Rhimlath.

Penny knew many did not rest that night but wandered in the margins of the forest, feeling like elflings once more and enjoying the sensation. They kept a healthy respect for it all, though, and many were wary to stray too far or alone. Elves were the friends of trees, but it had been too long since contact between the two had occurred – just as Celeborn had warned against Fangorn to the Fellowship, so Treebeard had thought ill of Lothlorien. Too long apart, there was no time to reforge the relationships now. Still it was a pleasant interlude for those travelling, a wonder and a novelty… even if the place gave Penny the creeps.

For two more days they travelled almost under the eaves of Fangorn, never venturing within its borders but letting their presence be known. In return, there emanated that watchfulness that Penny had sensed before from within the darkness beyond the trees, and the swaying of branches in time to the songs sung all made it seem as if the forest, in some way, travelled with them and wished them well.

It was all deeply bizarre.

Away to the west the land of The Wold grew steadily flatter and the lush grass taller and greener the further south they travelled. Then, as the edge of the forest turned east, they crossed the Entwash and finally left Fangorn behind them.

The White Mountains were clearly visible ahead of them now, and the flattened grassy plains between them left them in no doubt that they were in the realm of Rohan. In the distance from higher ground the Emyn Muin could be made out in the west. Penny could not see beyond them, could not catch her first glimpse of the Anduin or the blighted, grey lands beyond.

As she gazed towards the line of hills, she wondered if they were level with Amon Hen yet or perhaps already even slightly south of it. At this distance it was probably impossible to tell, she decided. So Penny said nothing, turned her mare and silently joined the rest of the company as they headed on towards Edoras.

1. Maura, you will remember, is 'Frodo's real name in his native version of Westron.

2. I was not going to include a visit to Fangorn until I realised they would have to walk past it, and for quite some time, on a direct route from Lothlorien to Edoras, hence its last minute inclusion in this chapter. Things were a little frosty and wary between Treebeard and Celeborn as is well documented: Celeborn warned the Fellowship against going into Fangorn, and Treebeard told the hobbits Lothlorien was a dangerous place. Nimrodel felt threatened, it was said, when she tried to enter the forest, and in UT it says Treebeard and Celeborn came to a sort of agreement that no ent or elf would be harmed in either's realm, but in truth few if any ever came each others way. Hence the hesitancy and wariness of all involved in this chapter.

3. Apologies for the run of Aistaire songs as titles – seem to be channelling old Fred at the moment.

Chapter 16 – Rohan Ho!

When Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf had travelled across the floodplains of the Entwash several months before, they had found it all but deserted. In a desperate bid to protect his people from the increasingly frequent and more daring attacks by orcs (from east, west and north), Theoden had insisted they retreat to Edoras, Helm's Deep or at least the valley behind Edoras.

Now that the War was over, the tiny hamlets and farmsteads were occupied once more. On the occasion that they saw a distant hovel or home, smoke could often be seen from a chimney. The sounds of the odd lowing cow or neighing horse became increasingly common the further into Rohan they went.

They did not cross through any village or even pass too close by to the few they saw. Even so their progress did not go unnoticed.

The afternoon after they left Fangorn behind them, they surprised a group of children fishing in a stream. The children stood, speechless and staring, as the elves slowly passed by. A tiny, snotty-nosed toddler waved and grinned, though, and many of the Eldar returned his greeting, but the two older children, both fair-headed boys, grabbed the tiny child's hand and headed off at a run towards a distant group of huts.

The company was so large that by the time one child returned with a nervous looking woman and several adult males, the last few elves were still passing the spot where the children had been first encountered by those at the front of the procession. The humans kept their distance and were wary, yet not afraid so much as in awe at the spectacle.

It was Penny's first inkling into the reaction they might receive both in Rohan and in Gondor. Though she had not until that moment really realised it, she had got used to elves and how they looked and came across. Of course, she still had times when the sheer beauty and wonder of them was a bit much, but nothing like it used to be when she had first arrived in Imladris. She remembered how blown away she had been when she had first laid eyes on Elladan, how extraordinary and fabulous he had seemed, and how that fact alone had convinced her for the first time that she could not be hallucinating it all.

She realised that seeing a few hundred elves all together like this, and among them the most powerful and beautiful in all Middle-earth, must be utterly mind-blowing for those who had never seen elves before. Even for those who had fought alongside Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas, this would still be something jaw-dropping in its splendour.

It was nearly two and a half weeks since they had set out from Lothlorien. As they journeyed on, the dark line of the Emyn Muil forever to their left and the grass in tall swathes about them (so tall in fact that Penny stuck to riding most of the time), the ground grew flat and wide. The Misty Mountains slowly petered out till at last Penny was able to see the Gap of Rohan.

She stared at it for quite some time, when Glorfindel pointed it out to her, as if willing Orthanc to appear out of the distant horizon.

"It seems strange to think of all that has happened there only recently. Is that not so, Pen-ii?"

Glorfindel seemed to be talking as much to himself as to her, barely seeming to notice her murmur of agreement.

Summer was also well and truly in full swing this much further south, and it all showed. The grass was tall, and the plains and meadows were filled with flowers everywhere they looked. Many trees were in blossom, and bushes bore the swelling beginnings of fruit. Slowly they picked their way past brooks edged with weeping willows and wound through reedy bogs; they spread themselves broad as they wandered through pastures and green swathes of grassland; individuals stopped on occasion to wave at children in the distance or smell the summer meadow flowers that grew everywhere.

Then at last after a few days, the White Mountains loomed large before them, their peaks capped with snow even at this time of year, given their height.

As the train headed over a slight swell and down into a hollow, each pointed out to those behind them the line of mountain peaks ahead. Penny peered as best she could but could only just make out a valley and nothing more. Keen elvish eyes could clearly make out something else in the valley, though, and Penny knew what it was even before she was told: a hill and, at its height, a golden roof glinting in the summer sun.

Not only that, but all the elves saw a group of riders heading towards them from its direction.

"Can you not see them?" Rhimlath was astonished. "I forget how lacking in some skills you mortals can be."

Penny glared at him.

Travel was beginning to get to Penny. She was footsore and saddle-sore most of the time these days – even the balm Mireth had given her was not working as well as it used to. Her temper was getting increasingly shorter.

Rhimlath was in danger of getting an earful any day now.

"The Rohirrim are indeed as tall and fair as I have been told," Lindir quickly cut in. "They are easily as tall as the Dunedain… or most Dunedain at least."

Ah, yes. Penny had forgotten that. She was not a shortarse, it was true, but compared to six foot Dunedain… Still the Rohirrim had to be shorter than most elves, which would save her getting a crick in the neck half the time like she did if she spoke to someone like Glorfindel or Celeborn. 'Must drive the hobbits do-lally having to converse with people twice their size,' she thought.

Within a few hours, as the company had stopped to eat, the riders were nearing steadily and at last were visible even to Penny. It was an small group of twenty or so helmed riders carrying shields and spears. Two dark-haired riders were leading them, both riding without bridle or saddles.

Their imminent arrival was eagerly awaited and most ate quickly, packing their things away to then stand, hands shielding their eyes as they watched the riders get closer. Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel stood forward a little, as a sort of impromptu official welcoming party. Arwen, Erestor, Glorfindel and the leading advisors of Lothlorien stood just behind them.

As soon as they came within earshot, Elladan and Elrohir, matching mithril head circlets holding gems shining on their brows and grinning from ear to ear, waved and shouted a greeting. Within minutes they had drawn near, slowed their steeds and leapt to the ground to warmly embrace their sister, father and grandparents.

The Rohirrim hung back a little. Though they were no doubt used to Elrond's sons, they were still a little overwhelmed at the sight of so many elves together, just as Penny had guessed they would be.

Two, with dark horse's manes trailing down from the back of their helms, urged their stallions forward towards Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel. The slightly taller of the two spoke, introducing himself and his companion as the Second and Third Marshalls of the Mark respectively.

Penny did not understand a word and had to have a whispered translation from Mireth. She did not recognise the names he had used either, even though she knew this had to be Elfhelm or Erkenbrand who was speaking. She suddenly remembered Elrond's initial confusion when she had used 'Eomer', 'Theoden' or 'Eowyn' when she had told him all she knew just after Halbarad had left.

Oh, great. Just great. More bloody confusion lay ahead, it would seem. It had taken her long enough to get her head round the real names of the hobbits.

Whoever he was, he went on to say that the King bade them welcome and asked if they would all do him the honour of staying with him as his honoured guests so they could rest a while before continuing their journey. It was, he continued, a privilege for Rohan to be able to greet the future queen of Gondor and her kin, and pay her homage. Gondor and Rohan were ever bound in alliance. As the arms-brother of King Elessar so the King declared Gondor's queen-to-be was to be treated as his sister and one deserving of tribute. Further, all of Rohan was at the disposal of the kin of those who had so valiantly fought alongside the Rohirrim to defend their lands against the Enemy. Indeed elves were held in great esteem and honour now they had been seen to fight so fearlessly and well.

Elladan and Elrohir looked vaguely smug at that point, Penny noted.

So saying the man (who Penny had now worked out was Elfhelm after puzzling over Mireth's rough translation of 'Ellon-Headpiece' for a moment or two) dismounted, stepped towards Elrond and bowed low. It was obvious who Elrond was, even without being introduced. Not only had his sons greeted him warmly as only sons could treat a father, but the likeness between the three made it clear they were close kin.

Elrond inclined his head and then replied in similarly flowery terms, introducing himself by his full title and lineage. As he indicated Celeborn and Galadriel the Rohirrim stiffened in their saddles slightly, their eyes widening and trying not to gasp. The reputation of Lothlorien went before it (even if most of it was superstitious bunkum and despite the best efforts of Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn and others to dispel such notions). Elrond thanked Elfhelm and accepted King Eomer's kind offer. Then he stepped forward and grasped Elfhelm by the forearm, smiling broadly.

"Any who are the friends of King Elessar and have helped defeat The Enemy with such noble valour as we have heard tell of your deeds, are friends of ours also."

Elfhelm, clearly surprised at the gesture, smiled in return and a cheer went up from the Rohirrim behind him.

Of course, it was all pure theatre, Penny thought to herself. She watched Elrond introduce the future queen of Gondor while Elfhelm bowed low and Erkenbrand dismounted to do the same. The stay in Rohan, if not pre-arranged, was only to be expected. They could not have travelled through it without calling on Eomer, given his deeds in the war and that three elves fought with his people. Equally Eomer could not have ignored them and not invited them to Edoras, especially not given Arwen's presence among them and the purpose for which they were travelling.

Still, it was an entertaining spectacle of public diplomacy, 'entente cordiale' and etiquette at work.

There was a slight hiatus while everything was readied after lunch before they could start off again. In the saddle, Penny took the opportunity to study the Rohirrim in detail. They were every bit as dashing as she had hoped.

They were tall and proud, their blond hair plaited to their shoulders. All were broad-shouldered and, especially compared to the lithe elves, built like brick shithouses, frankly. Several were bearded. Of course, they were in the full garb, as was appropriate given they were here as a royal welcoming party. Their mail shone bright and their spears and shields, emblazoned with the white horse of Rohan on a green background, looked terribly impressive.

Only on close observation might you have noticed that some of the shields were newly painted to cover the odd dent, hole or scratch. Were it not for the fact that much of their faces were covered by beard or helm, scars still a livid red might have been seen on the cheek of one or two as well.

Looking at them, Penny was very aware of how human they were. She had got so used to elvish company that to be with humans again suddenly made the elves seem to stand out more than they had done in ages.

As they set off, with the Rohirrim leading the way, Erestor was heard to mutter to Rhimlath.

"See? Elrond speaks perfect Westron. There is no issue of 'northern dialect.' They understand him perfectly."

"It was never Elrond's Westron that was under scrutiny, Erestor," Rhimlath retorted.

Just at that moment Glorfindel suddenly remembered that Erestor needed to advise him on something at the same time as Lindir decided to ask Rhimlath about an obscure piece of lore he apparently needed to settle for a song he was working on.

Thus, thankfully, peace was restored before it could all kick off again.

Word of their journey must have spread fast among those who lived in the valley beside the Entwash. They were not numerous by any means but enough that there had been several times already when people had come to stare or children run alongside them for half a mile or so. These well-wishers and oglers became ever more numerous as they neared Edoras, several of the children shouting out to any of the Rohirrim they recognised.

So far Penny had not been noticed.

It did not take too long, though, for one of the children to see that one amongst all the splendour looked desperately ordinary. In fact, compared to the elves around her, Penny stood out like a sore thumb, little did she know it. The child shouted something out to her, presumably in Rohirric because none of the elves reacted. One of the Rohirrim riding up ahead heard the cry, though, and turned towards the shout only to then look in the direction the child was pointing.

He spotted Penny and turned to say something to the man next to him. The second man, once he had also turned to see Penny and confirm what he had just been told, urged his horse forward to ride to the front of the eored to speak to Elfhelm. Elfhelm then peeled off from the company while Penny was pointed out to him. Elrohir, being the nearest, was then called for and as Elfhelm pointed directly at Penny, Elrohir smiled, laughed slightly and started chattering, no doubt explaining her away.

At this point, feeling very uncomfortable as the object of unwanted attention, Penny feigned ignorance, slid out of the saddle and out of view. She offered her place to Eleniel who was nearby. Only a minute or two later she neared Elfhelm, watching her as she walked past him. Elrohir, who was still beside him, called out to her.

"It is good to see you again, Pen-ii. Well met, indeed."

She stopped and replied in kind, ignoring Elfhelm's curious gaze. Elrohir nodded approvingly.

"Erestor's lessons have worked marvels, I see. You speak Sindarin very well now. Very well done, Pen-ii."

"Thank you, my lord." She hesitated saying his name in case she got it wrong. It was a while since she had seen either brother and they were very alike. For all she knew it could have been Elladan she was talking to, though something about his demeanour told her otherwise. "Erestor has been most patient and the others have helped."

"Ah, but Westron is beyond her, I fear," Lindir said, smiling as he stopped to join them.

He and Elrohir greeted each other warmly and then Elrohir introduced them both to Elfhelm. The conversation switched to Westron, naturally enough, at which point it became clear to Elfhelm that Penny did not understand a word he was saying to her.

He seemed confused.

"But the Dunedain and even the kûd-dûkan spoke a tongue very near our own."

Thus it was explained that Penny was a stranger, found lost and wandering and with no knowledge of their languages.

"Ah. I see." Elfhelm nodded slowly to himself for a moment or two.

"Come, we must head on," Elrohir said.

As the three males turned their horses and Penny made to join the throng once more, she caught Elfhelm's gaze. Suddenly, it seemed wary, she thought.

Or it could have been the shadow from his helmet, of course, and Penny just being paranoid.

"It would seem your presence among us is causing a little comment."

Erestor had this knack of sidling up beside her without her even realising it. Long centuries of being Elrond's 'eminence grise' she imagined. Actually, that was unfair, but even so it could be a little unnerving.

"Yes, so I noticed. He does not seem too happy about it."

"Well, you are a novelty. It was probably assumed you are a wife of one of the Dunedain, but even then why travel all this way, and why alone. You generate questions, Pen-ii. It is your gift." Erestor was smiling broadly, intending his comment to be a light-hearted one, a joke.

Penny was not so sure it was that funny, truth be told. She glanced ahead nervously, to see Elfhelm was still throwing the occasional puzzled glance in her direction even as he trotted forward with Elrohir to rejoin the Rohirrim.

Oh, great.

It had not really occurred to her what the reaction of the Rohirrim or Gondorians would be to her. She had been more concerned by the threat of being left behind in Gondor or else the lack of communication skills.

But now…

She sighed. She was back to being 'Freak Penny' again. Fan-bloody-tastic.

She was determined she was not going to let this spoil her growing excitement that she was about to see Edoras, though. She was probably imagining it, anyway. If the elves thought she was fine, if Elladan or Elrond and the rest could vouch for her, then the Rohirrim would not have a problem with her, right?

Right?

Even as she tried to convince herself, Erestor said something to her and pointed straight ahead. Penny had been so lost in her thoughts she had not really looked much beyond the grass or the horse's backside in front of her. Now that she finally did so she realised she could see it clear as day, and the sight was enough to put all other considerations out of her head.

"Oh… but it's wonderful!" she breathed.

Erestor tilted his head to one side as if musing whether 'wonderful' was quite the word he would have chosen. It was pretty enough, with the gold glinting off the roof of the Meduseld as it did in the afternoon sun. A little showy for his tastes, perhaps... He understood well enough, however, that it meant a lot to Penny.

She had a grin on her face like a Cheshire Cat. And it got broader the nearer they got.

For a while Edoras disappeared as they neared trees and then crossed over a well-used ford across the Entwash (probably the same one Gandalf and the others had used) but then it was back, high and proud, shining like a beacon against the mountain valley dark with lengthening shadows behind it.

It was stunning.

The palisade around the base of the hill was several feet tall, and even from some distance Penny could see figures on top of it, only their shoulders and heads visible where they were clearly standing on some kind of walkway or embankment behind. The closer they got, the greater the number of people appearing on the palisade pointing, cheering, hallooing, waving and generally making a great rumpus.

A crowd of people had already formed outside the gate and others were making their way towards them, past the barrows that housed the Rohirric kings of old. Many more that lived within the valley or nearby had come to witness this extraordinary sight. It was a 'once in a lifetime' experience after all – the kind of thing that the small children running alongside them would tell their great-great-grandchildren about if they lived that long.

The elves never once stopped singing as they approached (having started soon after they had set off).

Once they reached the base of the long, low slope leading up to the gates, they stopped while the horses were unloaded. Several ellyn, with the help of a few locals, started setting up tents and awnings. At the same time Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn and Arwen, along with a large group from both Lothlorien and Imladris, followed the Rohirrim on horseback towards Edoras.

Penny was hesitant, not sure which direction to go in. She was desperate to see the place, but presumed this was the diplomatic party in which she had no need to be involved. She seriously contemplating just tagging along anyway, especially given Lindir was going too, but decided to hold hard and wait to be invited.

She was not.

So she stayed put and helped set up camp instead.

Of course, the fact that Penny was the only one with a saddle had been noted by some who whispered to each other, nudging and pointing. It also became clear, after one or two of the humans milling about attempted to engage Penny in conversation even if they dared not speak to the elves just yet, that she spoke no Westron or only understood a few phrases.

"Not to talk I," was about the best she could manage, and even that was a struggle. She would shrug apologetically. She noticed that, after a little while, she was avoided or ignored (by the adults at least).

It was strange to see humans again. Strange in a nice way, though. Okay, she could only see them from a distance, since it was mainly the elves setting things up with the help of only a few individuals, but even so. There were kids running about nearby, but they would not come too near. If any elf stopped to say something to them they would go very quiet and shy, staring in awe at this tall, beautiful, near shining being bending over them.

Similarly as the party following the Rohirrim wound its way between the barrows of the kings and reached the gates, the shouting and whooping from the crowd both outside and up on the palisade quietened to a watchful awe. As Elfehelm and the rest, with Elrond and Celeborn close behind, rode through the gates, soldiers on either side blew on horns, the sound echoing through the valley and bouncing off the mountains around them.

Within an hour they were back, by which time dusk was beginning to fall. Most of the children brave enough to stick it out had finally got over their initial wariness of the elves and were now running in and out of the awnings and tent ropes laughing and playing chase. Many of the men were admiring the horses, none of whom would be stabled, but would remain as they were, as ever close to camp. Hay and water had been brought to them – indeed they had been treated with as much respect as the two-legged guests of the Rohirrim, but that was probably no surprise.

Once back from the Meduseld, Elladan went out of his way to find Penny since he had not had a chance to greet her with more than a nod and a smile in her direction before. Like his brother earlier, he showed pleasant surprise at the progress she had made in her language skills.

"Father tells me you have become quite at home in Imladris, that you have settled in well."

Penny nodded. She would be sorry to leave it and hoped she would not have to. She suddenly realised Elladan was looking at her with a serious expression on his face.

"My lord?"

He started, as if suddenly aware of what he was doing. "Forgive me, it's just…"

He glanced up at Elrohir who was chatting with Celebdor and a group of Galadhrim at a little distance to Elladan. Elrohir, catching his brother's look, furrowed his brows and crossed over to them.

"I have not had the opportunity to talk to Father in any length or detail about what you may have told him even before we left, let alone afterwards," Elladan continued. "But we always understood your knowledge was… detailed, shall we say."

Penny instinctively glanced around her, even though it was well known amongst the elves now that she had had some foresight in the War, so such talk did not have to be as discreet or secret as it had been before.

"It still seems astonishing to me that it should have been the case, yet you knew all that we have faced, did you not?"

Penny did not know how to answer him. She was a little thrown by his question.

"Yes… and no, Elladan. I did and yet could not even begin to imagine the horrors of battle…"

Elrohir was quietly listening beside his brother. The two exhanged a glance, as if sharing unspoken thoughts.

"Pen-ii?" Elrohir spoke slowly, his voice gentle and filled with compassion. "I know Aragorn sent word north, but I do not know if Father told you. If he did not, then forgive me for bearing sad news, but you should know that Halbarad-"

"I know," she cut in quickly. "I thank you, Elrohir. I know. I have known for some time."

There was a moment of awkward silence as Penny struggled to deal with the wave of emotion that hit her suddenly. Elrohir sighed sadly, shaking his head a little and murmuring he was sorry, but Elladan's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Penny's reaction.

"Even that?" he said quietly.

Penny stared at him for the barest of moments before her gaze fell. She felt her eyes were wet with tears. She nodded. "I told your father before you… I tried to stop…" She could not finish her sentence. "Excuse me," she muttered, turned and left them.

She did not cry. She had long and long ago grieved for him, but it was still upsetting to be reminded. Her throat was so tight it hurt her.

She wondered if they had seen it happen. She was half tempted to…

Then she decided it was best she did not know.

As she sat in the doorway to her tent watching as the last few things were readied, she glanced back towards the brothers and noticed they had been joined by two Rohirrim. One was a young man, not even her age but quite a few years younger and barely into adulthood. The older man she assumed to be his father. The two, clearly comrades-in-arms of Elladan and Elrohir, were being given the honour of being introduced to Elrond.

The older man beamed in pleasure at something Elrond said to him, but it was not him that Penny was looking at.

The young man had lost a leg just above the knee. He stood with a pair of rude looking crutches, the forks padded to provide some cushioning. In the gathering gloom Penny could not be sure, but there was something about his face that seemed strange as well. With the shadows it was difficult for her to see clearly, but it looked very much like there was a large, dark scar down one cheek.

Eventually Elrond took his leave of them and the young man said something to his father who nodded. They thanked the brothers, bade them farewell and turned to head off towards Edoras, the elder walking slowly so as not to rush too far ahead of the young man limping his way up the hill.

Mireth had come to sit beside her and seen what she was staring at.

"It is so very sad, is it not?"

Penny nodded, dumbly, too upset to speak.

"And yet, he is fortunate to be alive. Many with such a grievous injury do not live, or not among humans unless there is a skilled healer amongst them. I know our help will be needed here before we leave."

Penny looked at Mireth, wondering.

"Many are still sick with their wounds. Some may still lose limbs."

"After all this time?" Penny was astonished.

"Oh, indeed. Especially if the wound was badly or hastily treated, or has been neglected since. We will have some work tomorrow, I am sure. Elrond has already spoken to me and several others both from Imladris and Lothlorien who are skilled in healing."

The reality of war was hitting home to Penny the further south she travelled. Sauron had fallen and Saruman defeated, but at what cost?

Little did she know it, but to the west and east the ravages of raids in Rohan had been terrible. Homes and farms had been burnt to the ground, and men who had survived the battles had come home to find their livelihoods gone, or worse their women and children slaughtered. Entire swathes of the countryside between Orthanc and Helm's Deep had been utterly destroyed in the march of the Uruk-hai. Many widows suddenly found they had no farm, no man to provide for them, and had to throw themselves on the mercy of family or neighbours. Rohan was rich, but it would struggle and stretch itself thin to accommodate these newly dispossessed – distressed, grieving and utterly bereft in spite of the great victory that had been won.

As the youth disappeared slowly into the night and passed the first of the sixteen barrows – seven to the left and nine to the right - Penny noticed a circle of stones on the ground in front of the barrow nearest her on the left. Work had yet to start on it, but already the ground stood waiting and marked out to hold Theoden, King of the Riddermark, in a hill just like his fathers before him.

Much in Rohan was utterly changed and would never be the same again.

After the war Eomer changed the system of marshalls. Prior there had been no First Marshall for some while since Theoden had taken that role himself, the Second had been his son Theodred (and Elfhelm effectively filled the post afterwards, though he was never formally appointed), and the Third was Eomer. Eomer then made Elfhelm and Erkenbrand Marshalls of the West-mark and East-mark respectively. However, UT makes it clear this only happened after the burial of Theoden, hence Elfhelm and Erkenbrand are Second and Third Marshalls for the time being.

Tolkien used Old English for the names of people, places and things in Rohan. He did this to give the same impression that Rohirric would have had for Westron speakers since Rohirric was similar to a more ancient form of Westron (hence the similarity in terms between the native tongue of the Rohirrim and the hobbits). This means that 'Eomer', 'Meduseld', 'eored', 'Eowyn' (etc) are not the actual names but translations. It's the same as 'Frodo' is a translation of 'Maura', or 'Samwise' is a translation of 'Banazir'. The only trouble is, JRRT never gave us the original names for the Rohirric, other than literally one or two words and half-words, so don't ask me (for example) what Eomer's real name was, because I don't know and nor does anyone else, not even (I suspect) Christopher Tolkien, though he's probably the only person around who might. We know it would have been 'Lô-' or 'Loho-' something (as would have been 'Eowyn's name) since that corresponds to the OE 'Eo-' meaning 'horse'. With thanks to huinesoron and 'the Books bods of TWC' for their help over this issue.

kûd-dûkan - 'hobbit' in Rohirric

With many thanks to surgicalsteel for her invaluable help and advice on wounds, injuries, healing times, and all things medical.

Chapter 17 - My Kingdom For A Beer!

Supper was to be provided in the Meduseld at the King's insistence. Penny noticed a slight strain to Erestor's look as he imparted this information on to her, Mireth and Celebdor.

"Anything amiss, Erestor?"

"No, no."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Indeed. Why would there be anything amiss? I am sure supper will be…" He searched for a word. "Delightful."

He did not look terribly convinced. Before they could question him further, he had disappeared off into the dark, leaving Mireth, Penny and Celebdor to share a worried glance. Were all their fears about to be realised?

'And then some.'

The first clearer indication of this was when Elrond and the others who had already been up to the Meduseld suggested that as many as possible 'might like to go on horseback.' Elladan and Elrohir (now the experts on all things Rohirric, of course) seemed particularly insistent about this.

"But I want to walk, Lindir. I want to savour every moment of this."

"Some things are best savoured from a distance, Pen-ii. Trust me on this."

Penny blinked. Ah. Like that, was it?

Of course, there were not enough horses for everyone, and eventually it was decided it was easier to not have to saddle Penny's mare yet again so she did end up walking along with many others.

Hoo, boy! And she had thought Bree was bad.

The stink of the place hit you nearly as soon as you entered the main gates of Edoras. The fact that the pig sties were just to the right of the entrance, with the brewery only a short distance to the left, only made matters worse. It was like walking into a Wall of Smell. Admittedly it did get progressively less stench-ridden the higher up the hill you went. However, this was only because Edoras was built in a wind tunnel; thus the stink was simply exchanged for a very brisk northerly breeze.

The place was ridden with horse-shit. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, but even so, there were limits, surely? Just how many bloody horses were there in this place! How much horse poo could actually come out of a horse! Given she had been travelling with a fair number of the brutes for over a month already, Penny already thought she had seen more horse shit than it was ever possible to imagine. Obviously she was very wrong, it would now seem.

It was clear some vague attempt had been made to clear up some of it, presumably in advance of their arrival. Indeed, Elladan and Elrohir had let Eomer know it might be an idea to avoid offending elvish sensibilities too much by cleaning up a bit in the lower portions of Edoras. However, if this was the Rohirrim's idea of 'cleaning up,' Penny (and the others) were not at all sure they wanted to know what it had been like before.

There were piles of it in the road (admittedly fresh), piles of it next to houses, piles of it in barrows next to the gates waiting to be taken outside to be stored... Penny could not quite believe it.

"Fantastic manure," Celebdor explained. "They must have superb vegetables here."

"Indeed," agreed Penny, but feeling Celebdor was missing the point somewhat. As she pointed out to him, Imladris had a lot of horses, but still managed to function perfectly well without feeling the need to display their 'end product' quite so publicly.

The only vaguely gratifying thing about the slow walk up the hill was the amount of muffled protestation, waving of scented handkerchiefs (many having been forewarned and therefore forearmed) and general 'elvishness at its most horrified' going on around her. It would have been highly amusing… if Penny had not been so busy being revolted herself, of course.

If Halbarad had been able to see them all, he would have wet himself.

The grotty looking hovels at the base of the hill gradually gave way to larger huts higher up the hill. They were progressively less closely packed together, too, and thus conveniently allowed more of the northerly breeze to whip into your face every now and then. The elves were having trouble keeping their hair as neat as they liked.

The top of the hill was flattened and various buildings ranged around it, forming a sort of large courtyard. No sooner did they arrive but groups of young men and boys stepped forward to admire the horses and lead them off to be stabled temporarily.

At one end of the 'courtyard', raised higher still, was the Meduseld, with golden pillars and ornate carvings painted and gilded all over the doors, the steps, and the walls. It was a thing of beauty.

Or it was to Penny, at any rate.

Many of the elves barely gave it a second glance.

"Not bad," Rhimlath mused after Penny had enthused and bounced at him for a full two minutes over it. "Of course, you have to understand that the Rohirric culture is a very young one, Pen-ii. Their artistry is still a little crude, a little rough around the edges."

"I beg your pardon?" Penny felt a tad put out on their behalf. The whole thing was stunning as far as she was concerned.

"Well, it hardly has the delicacy and finesse of an elvish structure, as I am sure anyone would agree. The carvings are a little heavy, the colours garish, the artistic themes overblown…"

"In your opinion," Penny snapped.

"No need to get defensive," Rhimlath smiled. "I mean no offence. I realise they are fellow mortals, Pen-ii, but you have to admit that compared to elvish skill this… this…"

He waved his hand vaguely at the Meduseld as if trying to find the right description for it. Given his entire tone suggested he was toying between whether to call it 'a travesty', a 'pitiable example of human folly' or even a 'laughable attempt at high art,' Penny did not wait around to hear him finish the sentence.

There were guards on either side of the doors to the Meduseld as well as in pairs all the way up the stairs. The doors were open and a smell of roasting meat and smoke wafted down towards the crowd. A few Rohirrim were joining the visitors, mingling and introducing themselves or having themselves introduced by Elladan and Elrohir.

Penny's attention, however, was focused on the group at the top of the steps that had come out to greet them. She recognised Elfhelm and Erkenbrand immediately. They were standing on either side of a heavy-set, but very tall, blond man who could not have been more than five or six years older than she. He wore a crown and rich robes, which said much: for all the stench of the place, Rohan was rich indeed. Times may have been hard of late with the War, but its glory was far from faded.

She blinked as she took in the fact that she was looking at Eomer, King of the Riddermark. She had to stop herself from staring.

On the other side of Elfhelm was a woman, nearly as tall as Eomer, but slim where he was stocky. She was a beauty, it was true, but Penny had to admit she was not a patch on Arwen (but then there was probably no female alive who was a patch on Arwen except possibly Galadriel). She still made Penny feel desperately ordinary in comparison, though.

Eowyn bore a striking resemblance to her brother, or so it seemed from this little distance, anyway. Penny was somewhat taken aback at how young they both looked. Eowyn looked about her age and if anything it made her feat on the battlefield all the more remarkable to Penny's mind.

Horns sounded and Eomer spread his arms wide, shouting loudly into the wind that they were all most welcome and Rohan was blessed indeed to have such a people and such beauty walking within it.

That was very well said, and the elves murmured appreciatively. It very nearly flattered them enough to make up for the dreadful walk up the hill.

Eomer waited as Elrond and Celeborn led the way up the steps to join him, with Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and Galadriel behind them. As they turned and entered the Meduseld together, horns sounded once more from inside, and a cheer indicated others were already waiting for them at the feast.

Immediately following Elrond and the rest came those that, in human terms, would be considered 'lords, lieutenants and advisors' (though in elvish society there was little distinction between one elf and another), then followed by everyone else. Elves may not indulge in formality and etiquette, but humans did, and it was a matter of respect for them to 'play along' and conform for a day or two.

Once inside and out of the wind, Penny was left breathless as she stood in the doorway for a moment and took it all in.

There was a huge fire in the middle of the hall over which various animals were being spit-roasted: several boar and something big enough to be a sheep, small cow or perhaps a deer (Penny wasn't entirely sure, and it actually turned out to be a goat). There was also a large cauldron to one end of it.

The entire place (and it was huge) was filled with tables and benches. Tapestries decorated the walls, ancient swords, spears and battle axes were nailed up next to the lit torches in their brackets, the great pillars holding up the ceiling were intricately carved and decorated with gold and paint, and all was as Penny knew it would be.

Well, perhaps not quite 'all.'

She was left just as breathless by the smoke, which stung her eyes a little till she got used to it. Not only that, but there was a stench of the great unwashed about the place from the amount of large, sweating men in unwashed jerkins already in the room. There was also the strong, sickly-sweet smell of beer with a heavy note of wet dog as an undertone to the whole thing.

Penny glanced around at those beside her and saw sensitive elvish noses were having a harder time with it all than she was.

The intricate inlay on the floor could not be seen since it had been covered by rushes. At first she was a little bemused by this, but later in the evening, after being witness to Rohirric table manners, she understood why. There were dogs and hounds of various descriptions running about (Saruman had been right in that respect, it would seem), and with rushes down at least the fleas, dog excrement and bits of half-chewed bone could be swept out easily enough the following morning.

"Nothing like a bit of seeing other people's cultures up close and personal," Penny muttered to herself, grimacing. "Oh, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained."

So saying, she stepped into the room with everyone else. Little did she realise it, but she was about to experience Rohirric partying at its very best.

The high nobles – both human and their elvish equivalent – were seated at a long table that ran across the room on a raised dais at the far end. Eomer sat in the middle on a highly ornate and gilded chair, Elrond and Arwen to his right and Celeborn and Galadriel to his left. Penny noted Arwen and Eowyn were sitting next to each other. She idly wondered how that would play out, whether Arwen knew or could guess Eowyn's brief attachment to Aragorn. All a moot point now, of course, since Faramir was in the picture, but even so.

Everyone else was left to seat themselves wherever they so chose at the tables that ran lengthwise down the hall, although the higher nobles took the ends nearest the high table. Lindir was already taking a seat with Rhimlath just opposite Elrohir and Elladan. Meanwhile serving wenches scurried about with roast pigs, trays piled high with bowls filled with whatever concoction was in the cauldron or huge jugs of beer. Penny stuck close to Mireth, Celebdor and Eleniel.

Once seated, Penny took time to take it all in. Eomer was not at all what she had expected. He continued the 'built like a rugby prop' genes that, looking round the room, it was clear most of the Rohirrim possessed. The men were, generally, tall and very manly, but HUGE. They probably would make damn good rugby players or American football players or Aussie rules football, or basically anything that involved being as big and heavy as possible and throwing your weight around a lot. They certainly drank enough beer to qualify; that was for damn sure, as Penny was to find out.

Things started loud and raucous, and only got worse.

The food was passable. Penny now found out she had been spoilt with elvish cooking. She could just make out Naurdir and his delightful wife sitting across the room from her, and his face as he tried the dumplings and stew was a picture.

Pig was clearly a favourite with the Rohirrim. There was a lot of it in various forms. Several roasted boars littered the tables, as did a couple of hams, and piles of sausages of varying sizes and types (cold, dried, sliced, covered in some sort of insipid grey sauce, and there were even quite a few in the stew).

The horse manure had been put to good use to provide vegetables, as Celebdor had suggested it would be. The trouble was that most of the vegetables seemed to involve brassicas of some description. There was more pickled cabbage on the tables than was surely reasonable, Penny decided. Pickled beetroot, pickled cucumber, pickled pigs trotters, pickled just-about-anything-the-women-of-Rohan-could-get-their-hands-on, so it would seem. It was only afterwards it occurred to Penny that the War would have destroyed a lot of crops and they were living on winter stores. Later Elrohir assured her, though, that pickling seemed to be a favourite pastime of the Rohirrim women.

"They showed us great honour, Pen-ii. Those were some of their provisions for the coming winter. Not wastefully, mind, but even so, they used up some of it."

Elladan corrected him by pointing out that the Rohirrim could (and did) happily eat pickled cabbage all year round, and they would have enough time to replenish stocks before winter set in. "I like pickled cabbage," he added. "But not every day."

There was, however, plenty of fresh fruit. Penny tucked into that with gusto. The Rohirrim also made a very good dark bread that, spread with butter, was also excellent and filling.

It was only after she was onto her third handful of cherries and second orange that Penny realised several of the elves near her, having seen the state of the fingernails of the serving women, were discreetly wiping and washing the fruit, the cups, the cutlery and anything else they may need to use. Some were not quite so discreet, of course (Elladan made no pretence whatsoever, nor did Rhimlath), but even so it seemed like a good idea, so Penny, a little belatedly perhaps, followed their example.

However, the tour de force of the evening was the beer. If nothing else, the Rohirrim knew how to make an excellent ale. The Dunedain, indeed, had been very impressed with the little they had managed to partake of it during their brief sojourn in Rohan and had declared it nearly as good as that which they got back home (high praise indeed). Aragorn had already requested for several kegs to be sent to Minas Tirith and had received them within two weeks of Eomer's return to Rohan. Several more were due to be sent with the wedding party as a gift. It was strong stuff, but good. Penny had not had beer since Bree (the elves not being terribly keen on the stuff) and took the opportunity to indulge. It almost made the food taste better.

Once everyone was settled and the feasting was well and truly underway, there were speeches. Eomer stood and spoke at length welcoming his guests, his talk punctuated by much cheering and raucous hallooing from the locals. Elrond spoke next, praising the Rohirrim for their famous bravery and deeds in war, the beauty of their countryside and their people (as he spoke a particularly haggard looking crone pottered across his line of view, but he was only being polite). When Celeborn rose to speak, a silence fell across the room. The Rohirrim knew who he was and where he was lord, and their awe was palpable. He spoke movingly and well of their past, showing great knowledge of their history.

"I remember well when your people first travelled past my borders on their way south," he pointed out. Comments like that endeared him to the Rohirrim, but also disconcerted them a little.

As he and Elrond spoke, Mireth had a hard time translating for Penny, and Eleniel had to fill in some of the gaps. Both ellyn were using an older version of Westron, one from which Rohirric was descended, and thus most in the Meduseld could follow a lot of what they were saying.

There were minstrels playing and singing while they ate, though they could barely be heard at times above the din of chatter, laughter and the occasional impromptu drinking song (the frequency, length and volume of which only increased the longer the evening wore on). On occasion the hall would fall silent for a particularly well known or moving ballad or piece of poetry. At one point Lindir was pushed forward and asked to sing something, which he did – a song of heroes in war and a soldier returning to his love. The Rohirrim were transfixed. You could have heard a pin drop (if it had not been for the rushes deadening the sound, of course). He was followed by one or two others from the elves, who were all met by a similarly enraptured reception.

After a while it was clear drinking was overtaking the eating, and some moved to clear a few tables both from the central portion of the hall and towards the end near the doors so as to allow space for dancing. Preparations were no sooner started than quickly stopped, however, as Eomer stood and called for silence. The royal minstrel and poet was called forth.

There were murmurs among the crowd wondering what was happening, but clearly one or two of the Rohirric nobles knew and were smiling and nodding in approval. The man stood just to the side of the high table where everyone could see him and then, clearing his voice, recited a long poem he had composed honouring the feats of Elladan and Elrohir on the battlefield.

"… Tall and terrible, twice twinned-Lords
Sword blades shine-striking, foes fearless-slain
Death-dancing doom-dealing, treading down the dead
Arms-brothers, blood-earned, bold soldiers both…"

It was sonorous and moving, or so Penny assumed from the expressions on the faces of even the hardest Rohirric warriors there as they listened. Many were clearly lost in memories, and at least one woman was sobbing quietly by halfway through. Several men cast their gazes down or rubbed at still healing wounds or newly wrapped bandages.

Elladan and Elrohir were moved beyond words. They had not known about this at all. It had been something Eomer and the minstrel royal had cooked up between them for this very moment. Elrond could not help but beam in pride. The poem was in Rohirric, so much was incomprehensible, but it was clear the older elves understood quite a bit or could guess at the meaning since they could remember the ancient forms of Westron from which Rohirric was descended. Celeborn and Elrond were both listening intently, and on occasion Erestor would lean over and mutter something to Elladan by way of explanation.

Once the recitation was finished, the minstrel bowed low towards the brothers, and for a moment there was complete silence in the hall. Then, slowly, Eomer stood and then one by one the Rohirrim followed him, every one holding out their cups towards the twins.

At last everyone, including the elves, were on their feet and only then did Eomer speak.

"We drink to you, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, Lord of Imladris. Know you are arms-brothers of Lôgrad and shall always be welcome here."

"Elladan and Elrohir!" went up the shout from the hall, and everyone's cups and tankards were drained.

Only then could the rearranging of furniture resume, as everyone fell back to drinking hard and thoroughly enjoying themselves. The minstrels struck up more jaunty tunes, and dancing began in the middle of the hall (in a not particularly orderly fashion, it had to be said).

As the evening wore on, so the beer flowed. Tongues were loosened and the warm, smoky air leant itself to a convivial atmosphere. The Rohirrim began to feel more relaxed as they realised that the elves (or most of them at any rate) were much like Elladan and Elrohir and thus 'good eggs.' The men were wary of approaching the ellith, who contented themselves with dancing with husbands, betrotheds or friends, or else chatting away in small groups. The much fewer number of female Rohirrim at the feast kept themselves to themselves and seemed uncertain of approaching anyone – male or female – from the elves.

Such wariness did not stop the occasional young man from gazing in astonishment at an elleth every now and then (another thing that happened with more regularity and increasing boldness the more beer that was drunk). The older, married men would lean over and casually tap the underside of their chins to shut their mouths, muttering laughed comments of how unmanly it was to drool. Similarly every time a serving woman had to speak to an ellon she would invariably flush and go very quiet, suddenly too shy to speak, or else giggle uncontrollably.

'Nice to see I'm not the only one,' Penny thought, remembering the effect the ellyn had first had on her (and could still have on her if there were enough of them and she was not concentrating).

The elves were neatly divided in terms of how they, in their turn, reacted to the Rohirrim. The elves of Imladris were more used to humans and how they could be, but the Galadhrim were clearly a little bewildered by the boisterousness of it all. Depending on their character they either watched from a safe distance, bemusement and a faint hint of horror and superciliousness plastered all over their faces, or else, as they drank, warmed a little and tentatively engaged in conversation with some of the older and more sedate Rohirrim. Several made their excuses and left as soon as it was reasonably polite to do so, though.

For her part, Penny was content to stay where she was on a side table, armed with a tankard, a jug of beer and a bowl of apples and just watch it all with increasing fascination.

She did not remain that way for long.

There had been Rohirrim sitting near to them during the meal who had, obviously, immediately realised Penny was human. Of course, the inevitable attempt at conversation, confusion at her inability to speak much Westron and then explanations of who she was and why she was with the elves, meant she became an immediate object of fascination in her own right. Many avoided her, especially the women, but a few others were intrigued or (emboldened by drink) in the mood to be friendly, and sat with her talking to her (or, more accurately, at her) amiably enough.

Mireth and Celebdor were attempting to join in with the dancing. Eleniel was deep in conversation with Arwen and Eowyn – both of whom seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. Lindir had come to sit next to Penny, bringing Elrohir with him. They inevitably attracted a group of Rohirrim, either because they were friends of Elrohir's or because they had learned Lindir was in charge of the stables of Imladris (and thus he was instantly considered a friend for life by any Rohirrim).

Penny sat as Lindir and Elrohir translated for her (when they remembered) stories of orc skirmishes, 'great horses we have known and loved,' battles, 'dreadful wounds I have suffered' (which included exposing various parts of the anatomy to show off scars) and things of a similar nature. As the evening progressed, and more alcohol was drunk, she guessed that one or two more risqué stories were being told since several times Lindir and Elrohir raised eyebrows and refused point blank to translate for Penny despite her insistence.

Humans are humans, after all. Not only that, but men will be men. Especially if there is beer involved.

Penny did her best to respond to questions, though she was sorely limited by her lack of progress with Westron. Most of the time, though, she was ignored, and happy to be so. She was surrounded by giant hunks of blond beefcake and loving every minute of it and 'oh her tankard was empty again, damn this was good beer, where's the jug ah yes to the brim LOVELY…'

Bad, bad move on Penny's part.

Elrohir was dragged off at one point by his brother. Lindir took the opportunity of some of the minstrels having a brief break for more beer to engage them in conversation and try and learn a little about Rohirric dance tunes. Thus Penny was left with her beer and beefcakes.

She was on her fourth beer of the night…

Or at least she thought she was on her fourth beer of the night.

Now she tried counting, she realised it could have been more.

However many it was, though, her bladder was beginning to complain loudly but she had no idea how to ask where a latrine might be found. She was seriously tempted to wander off down the hill and back to camp to the latrine that had been dug before they left. She strongly suspected any latrine here on the hill may be of the Bree variety, and there was no WAY she was going through that again.

A young man next to her had been attempting to make small talk on and off for a while. He had felt it was only polite given she was clearly alone in some respects, and while her situation was odd, she seemed pleasant enough. He, being young, was less indoctrinated with a suspicion of strangers, let alone ones as unusual as Penny; and anyway he could not in all conscience ignore her given he was sitting right next to the woman. He was also quite drunk and would have happily chatted away to Saruman himself were he sat next to him at that point in the proceedings. They were sharing a jug of ale, and he was impressed by her clear delight in the drink – definitely a woman who knew a good brew when she met one, which was a plus point in her favour.

Now that Lindir had briefly wandered off, though, Penny was forced to rely on her fractured, near non-existent Westron, and pretty soon all conversation ground to a halt. The man (having already heard Eothain's 'hilarious' story of the time they filled his brother's bridal bed with a brace of badgers and twelve dead rats more times than he cared to think about) stood and offered his hand to Penny.

Penny stared at it for a moment. She blinked, a fog of beer clouding her brain.

Oh! A dance! Yeah, why not!

She grinned at him.

That she grasped his hand with such enthusiasm and launched herself into the fray so willingly should have been proof enough to anyone watching that she was well on the way to drunk.

After two dances of very exuberant bouncing about, though, Penny had to sit down before she wet herself. Meanwhile, the man was attempting conversation again, wondering how long he would have to do this before one of her friends came back.

"So, it must be strange for you to be in mortal company after so long," he said with a friendly smile. She did not understand and grabbed Rhimlath as he passed by to translate. He did so but did not stop, passing on to speak briefly to Lindir who was nearby, on his way back to rejoin Penny and the others but temporarily detained in conversation with another group of Rohirrim further up the tables.

"Oh, yes. Very strange." She tried her fractured Westron and hand-gestures to convey she had missed being in human company. 'Elf good but not same. I human and not with human big month. I happy be with human. Human nice. Elf nice but human big nice.'

Or at least that's what she thought she had said.

What she did not realise was that she had actually used the word 'men' and not 'human,' thus the Rohirrim got entirely the wrong impression. His friends were busy choking into their beers.

He blinked at her for a moment or two, suddenly seeing her in a completely different light. If he had not been so drunk he might have stopped to consider that the company she kept meant he could only have misunderstood. If his friends had not been so drunk they might have been able to point it out to him. Alas for Penny, they were all nearly as drunk as she was. A rather wide leer slowly spread across his face.

"Is that so? I might be able to help you there, Pen-ii," he grinned.

Nearby, Rhimlath was staring open-mouthed in horror at her even as Lindir turned to talk to him.

"Yes, Rhimlath, you wanted to speak to me? … Rhimlath? … Er, Rhimlath? Are you even listening to me?"

Penny, meanwhile, was aware the room was still spinning and, since she had been sat down for a while now, it could no longer be blamed on the dancing. More to the point if she did not get a move on, she would not make down the hill in time to get to the latrine. She was also finding the smoke in the place stifling. And not just the smoke, either. The brassicas seemed to be having their effect on the Rohirric digestive system and they were not shy about it… or not after several beers, anyway. Either that or it was the dogs.

"I need some air," she said in English – now too drunk to even remember to speak in Sindarin let alone try Westron.

She stood, swayed and stumbled; the young man, still grinning from ear to ear, stood also, catching her round the waist to stop her falling. Penny giggled. She was oblivious to the fact that he held her a little too close and a little too tight to be merely innocently friendly or helpful.

Rhimlath was talking animatedly into Lindir's ear. Lindir looked up in Penny's direction, alarmed.

"Air," Penny said again, gesturing in the direction of the doors.

The man nodded. He understood.

Or so he thought.

Penny staggered off while the young man turned to the table, picked up his tankard and downed the rest of his beer in one. He slammed it back down and leaned forward to speak to his comrades.

"I will see you on the morrow."

He grinned and winked. His friends gave leery snickers and wished him a 'pleasant evening.'

However, as the young man turned to leave and follow Penny outside he found his way blocked. He tried to focus and slowly realised he was staring at a tunic with very faint brocade in the shape of leaves… Not Rohirric. Definitely not Rohirric. He followed the tunic upwards and saw an elf glaring down at him. He blinked.

"And where do you think you are going?" Lindir's voice was calm and quiet, but with an unmistakable edge to it.

The young man, too drunk to recognise a very annoyed elf when he saw one, smirked.

"I am off for the night with… whatever her name is. Nice woman." The smirk grew wider. He was talking male to male, wasn't he? "Nice… curves," he added.

His friends saw the flash in Lindir's eye even if the young man did not. Within two seconds the table behind him was devoid of seated revellers for a good three feet on either side. They did not want to get hurt when the young Rohirrim was thrown over it.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I am off for the night-"

"No, you are not." Lindir leaned in close till their noses were practically touching. "You are going to sit down and drink more beer like a good little boy."

"Hey! I am no boy… as she is about to find out!"

Rhimlath held back Lindir's arm as Lindir made a swing for him.

"There has been a misunderstanding," Rhimlath interrupted, pushing his way between the youth and Lindir. "Her Westron is not good. You misunderstood her."

"No misunderstanding, my friend."

"I can assure you-"

It was then that the man did something incredibly stupid (as if none of this were not stupid enough already). He later said he had meant it as a joke, but at the time he sounded like he was trying to pick a fight. He wondered out loud, with a slight sneer on his face, whether he was being stopped because Penny, as the lone human among a load of elves, was used like a travelling whore hence she was their property and no one else was allowed a look in.

Lindir did not get to thump him. Rhimlath did it for him.

Of course, briefly, all hell broke loose with Rohirrim weighing in to say they had over reacted and while Celeborn and Erkenbrand (and many others) came over to find out what on earth was going on. Lindir was staring in Rhimlath in astonishment since he had never seen Rhimlath quite that angry before.

The young man, once he had been peeled off the table, slapped gently a few times and had half a jug of water thrown over him, was just about conscious enough to apologise. His friends accepted it was a misunderstanding and agreed he had been out of order in what he said. Hands were shaken and it was all smoothed over to the point that Rhimlath was invited by his friends to join them in a beer or twelve. After all, it would not be the first case of fisticuffs that night – it was part of what partying hard was all about, no?

"Er… Lindir?"

"Yes, Erestor?"

"I think you should come quickly. Where is Eleniel or Arwen?"

"Why? What is it?"

Erestor just beckoned Lindir to follow him to the doors. Lindir could see (and hear) what it was even before he had finished making his way past the dancing couples.

Penny was on top of the steps to the Meduseld, clinging on to a pillar with one arm flung out towards the valley below, singing "I Did It My Way" at the top of her lungs while a small, appreciative (if amused) crowd formed below her in the courtyard.

The walk back to the camp was an interesting one.

Eleniel came along, as did Lindir (who practically frog-marched her down the hill at points). Several others came out onto the steps to see them off where they were treated to a medley of some of the most extraordinary songs they had ever heard.

"Oh, this is too funny, Celebdor. Let us join them."

Mireth grabbed her betrothed's hand and practically pulled him down the stairs. Glorfindel, realising how much fresher the air was now he was outside and not relishing the prospect of braving once more the smelly smog filling the Meduseld, ambled along after them.

As the group wandered down the hill, Penny even tried to get them to dance. Eleniel and Mireth joined in, laughing, but the ellyn refused if only because it was more amusing watching Penny shimmy and boogie her way round the horse-shit. Thus Lindir was introduced to the delights of Abba, Tom Jones, Elvis Presley and so much more.

They had to stop her (Glorfindel literally put a hand over her mouth) in mid-flow of relating how she would 'survive, so long as she knew how to love, she knew she'd stay alive' as they passed the sentries on the gates. They felt, wisely, that her singing and dancing her way past the barrows of the kings would not go down too well. It was perhaps only fortunate Erestor was not with them so they could not get a running translation of it all. "Like A Virgin" would have gone down like a lead balloon and then some, had they known what she was singing about.

Needless to say she passed out before Eleniel and Mireth had even managed to finish unbuttoning her dress, so getting her dress off and her under a blanket took some manoeuvring, but they managed it. Just.

Outside the tent, Lindir was debating whether or not to go back up to the Meduseld and rescue Rhimlath (last seen surrounded by burly Rohirrim trying to explain to him why downing a tankard of beer as quickly as possible was a really good idea).

At last Eleniel and Mireth appeared looking triumphant.

"All done. She is out cold."

"Surprise, surprise," sniggered Celebdor.

"You might want to put a bucket by her bedroll," Lindir pointed out. "Just in case."

"Ah, yes, good thinking," Mireth headed off to fetch one. "You are the expert in such matters, after all, Lindir." She flashed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

"I beg your pardon! How dare you!"

"Oh, come now, Lindir. You know it's true."

Lindir raised a scornful eyebrow at Glorfindel. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Summer festival? Lothlorien? Not quite a millennium ago?" Glorfindel caught Celebdor's eye as he spoke and the pair broke into wide grins. Eleniel giggled.

"That was a bad fresh-water mussel, as you know perfectly well!" Lindir retorted hotly.

"Ah, yes. So you said."

"What do you mean 'so I said'? It was, Celebdor!"

"I believe you!"

"You clearly do not!"

"Well…" Celebdor looked doubtful "It was not the only occasion, you have to admit."

Lindir spluttered for a moment in the face of merciless sniggering.

"Fine. I am not staying here to be insulted. I am off to get Rhimlath before we find him serenading all of Rohan as well." So saying he strode off into the night back up the hill, trying to ignore the peals of laughter behind him.

Meanwhile Penny, safely in her tent and snoring loudly, was oblivious to it all.

1. Please note some amendments to the previous chapter: all references to an 'eored' have been removed, since the amount of riders is a lot more than merely twenty to count as an eored. Also Eomer only reorganised the Marshall system after Thoeden's burial, so Elfhelm and Erkenbrand now introduce themselves as Second and Third Marshall.

2. In Appendix A of LOTR it says this: "Eomer was as his fathers before him; but Eowyn was tall and slender…" Eomer is described as 'tall, taller than the rest' in the chapter The Riders of Rohan in 'The Two Towers', thus I have assumed the 'but' in the first quote refers to Eowyn's slenderness. Hence I have made Eomer tall but stocky.

3. Eomer was very young when he became king – only 27. Eowyn was 23.

4. NL, please do not kill me for making your precious lust-object of a shield maiden not as pretty as Arwen. I know, I know, but as my canon-beta you have to admit that that's the reality.

5. Forgive my piece of doggerel. I've always liked the Anglo-Saxon style, and while I know JRRT said the Rohirrim were not Anglo-Saxon (or Norse) much of their culture is similar, and thus my poem snippet borrows from the style of that sort of poetry – lots of alliteration and 'coupling' of words.

6. I would also like to make it clear that I am not saying that sex before marriage was the 'norm' in Middle-earth; quite the opposite, in fact. However, humans are humans and drunk humans are even worse. Added to which, prostitution is not called 'the oldest profession' without good reason and I think it's fair to say that in most (if not all?) societies through the ages, even if it has been considered desirable if not obligatory to desist from such things before marriage, the emphasis has been far more on women than men in this regard: 'boys will be boys' was the attitude while girls were ostracised if they so much as thought about it. (Witness the practice in many societies of waving the bed sheets out the window after the wedding night so everyone could see the blood and thus rest assured she had indeed been a virgin, etc). I have tried to present human weakness and realism that is all, but I am not for a moment suggesting the Rohirrim are all at it like rabbits. Far from it. I hope this rambling explanation makes sense.

Lôgrad - Rohirric for 'Rohan'

Thank you to all here at SoA who have been busy reading and reviewing with such clear enthusiasm - I am very touched and gratified to know you have enjoyed Penny's story so far. Posting this chapter brings me completely up-to-date here on SoA, so from now on chapters will be posted 'in real time' as I write them. This is a WIP - chapter 18 has yet to be written and will be posted here as soon as it is ready. :)

My apologies for the long delay with this chapter. If it's any consolation this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would. My thanks, as ever, to all those reading and reviewing – it is much appreciated. :)

Chapter 18 – The Morning After

To say Penny felt rough the next morning would be an understatement. It took a few moments for her to realise she was even conscious at first, but once she did she immediately regretted it.

Though not half as much as when she then tried to sit up.

The tent spun round about her dully while her temples pulsed horribly. She clutched her forehead and bent forward with a groan. Her tongue felt like it was twelve sizes too big for her mouth and she had a raging thirst. Feebly she reached out for her water sac, not even realising that Mireth actually handed it to her.

Mireth and Eleniel, who had been waiting patiently for her to awake, chatting and sewing in the open doorway, exchanged a knowing smirk. Penny, oblivious, gulped greedily at the water.

"Good morning." Eleniel grinned at her as Penny finally put down the water sac with a gasp.

"Mhpmmf."

"How are you feeling?" Mireth chirruped brightly, knowing full well what the answer would be. It was obvious just from looking at Penny that she had a hangover that could have floored a bear – the slightly hooded eyelids, a narrowing of the eyes as if even thinking was hugely painful, the slack jaw, the vacant expression and the generally dishevelled appearance.

"Whrgghhh," Penny replied, thus adding the inability to form a coherent sentence to the above list.

Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a second smirk.

Penny glared at them.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon. Were you expecting sympathy?" Eleniel laughed. "No one asked you to drink that much beer, Pen-ii."

"Ah, now be fair. Everyone agrees she clearly did not realise how strong it was. It was not Pen-ii's fault."

"True." Eleniel reached out for Penny's hand. "Time to get up, Pen-ii. A little cold water on your face and a bit of fresh air will do you some good and help you feel better."

"And some breakfast," Mireth added, also proffering a hand towards Penny.

"No. No breakfast," Penny mumbled, taking a hand in each of her own and hauling herself up to her feet. She paused for a moment as she got to an upright position as the tent reeled round her head once more. She took a side step as she steadied herself. "Woah." She giggled. "Still drunk."

Mireth and Eleniel shook their heads at her, laughing.

It was only as the cold water hit her face that what Mireth had said filtered through to Penny. She slowly looked up at her friend.

"Wait just one moment… What do you mean 'everyone agrees'?"

"Exactly that. Over breakfast everyone was saying that-"

Penny cut her off with a hand gesture. She blinked at Mireth like an owl, her brow furrowed as she tried to process the information.

"I have missed breakfast?"

"Very nearly, yes," Eleniel replied.

"And everyone was talking about me over breakfast?"

"Well, perhaps not everyone, but all of us that were there last night when we walked back together or saw you before we set off."

Penny was dimly aware she was still kneeling in front of the bowl with water dripping off the end of her nose. She reached for a cloth and began drying her face, standing up as she did so.

"We walked back?" Penny asked hesitantly. She had no memory of that at all. A cold horror gripped her. "And what do you mean 'saw me before we set off'?" She was not sure she wanted to know. She had a history of doing very stupid things while drunk. Brian, for one.

"You sang." Eleniel beamed at her.

"Oh, no," Penny groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

"And danced," Mireth added.

A muffled 'argh' came from Penny at that piece of news. Then she thought about it. She remembered dancing, or at least she thought she did, in the Meduseld. Though who on earth she had danced with, she had no idea. She looked up at Mireth.

"Ah, now wait, that is not so very bad. There were lots of people dancing in the great hall. You and Celebdor for a st-"

"No, no. You sang and danced all the way down the hill and to the camp," Mireth explained.

Penny opened her eyes wide at this appalling piece of news. She muttered something about needing to sit down and staggered back to her bedroll as Mireth and Eleniel burst out laughing.

"And people SAW this?"

"Oh, yes," Eleniel chortled. "Mireth and I joined in the dancing with you, if that makes you feel a little better about it all. The ellyn refused, though."

"Ellyn?"

"Oh, only Celebdor and Lindir-"

"Lindir? That is not what I needed to hear!"

"And Glorfindel also," Eleniel added.

"Glorfindel was there?" Penny blinked. "Oh, well, that settles it. I am not coming out of my tent for the rest of the day."

"Do not be so silly," Mireth giggled. "You were not the only one to get a little heady last night."

"Indeed, I think most of Rohan got drunk judging from the raucous singing and dancing of most of the mortals there last night."

"That is not the point, Eleniel."

"Well, it is not usual for women we know of to get quite that drunk, perhaps, but no one blames you, Pen-ii. You were not to know. The beer was very potent. It was hardly your fault. You are not the only one who woke up this morning feeling a little delicate."

"Mireth's right, Pen-ii. There were several ellyn this morning who were foregoing food for merely water and a little miruvor."

"And the infamous Lothlorien hangover cure."

"Ah, yes. I believe Rhimlath made a large batch of it for them all."

Penny missed the inference that Rhimlath had got nearly as drunk as she had been. She was still too alarmed at the idea of her singing and dancing through Edoras and making a spectacular arse of herself. If Lindir had been a witness then everyone would know and know in full, glorious detail too. If only she could remember… She clutched her head. Her temples were throbbing painfully.

"Owww."

At which point Eleniel and Mireth more or less dragged her out of the tent, insisting she needed food, air and something for her headache, despite Penny's protests.

As they made their way to the little space in the centre of the encampment, Eleniel and Mireth continued to reassure Penny. If she felt she really could not face people, then they could bring her some breakfast to her tent. However, Penny had to admit Eleniel had a point when she said that Penny would have to face them all sometime and that it was probably better to get it over with sooner rather than later. Mireth insisted others had been worse for wear that morning, that in fact one ellon had been found passed out under a table in the Meduseld in amongst a pile of sleeping dogs and brought back in a wheelbarrow like a sack of potatoes.

That last piece of information made Penny feel a whole lot better and she walked towards the prospect of a nice, soothing cup of tea with more confidence than she would have otherwise thought possible.

Breakfast was over, but there were still a few stragglers chatting or helping clear away the last of the victuals. Among the stragglers were a small group that included Lindir and Celebdor, neither of whom were eating or drinking anything. Penny had no time to make a last minute dash for it since Lindir spotted her straight away.

"At last! Pen-ii! Look, everyone, it is Songstress Pen-ii come to join us at last. Pen-ii, you do realise it is very nearly lunchtime?"

She glared at him. She suspected (rightly) he and Celebdor had chosen to wait for her long after finishing their morning meal simply so they could bait her.

"Shut up. I am not in the mood."

"Oh dear, not feeling terribly well, are we? Well, if you will drink so much beer, Pen-ii…"

"Well, I am sure you would know all about getting drunk, Lindir."

"Now, now, I was not the one serenading Rohan last night."

Penny had no answer to that. She waved her tea caddy at him while she struggled to find a retort, but her head hurt too much to think of one and besides which, seeing the tea in her hand reminded her that she really needed a cup. She turned away with an exasperated oath and stomped up to the remnants of the small fire where Eleniel was already putting some water in a little pot to heat up for her.

"It was quite a performance, Pen-ii. I was most impressed."

Penny scowled into the fire.

"I agree, Celebdor. Most 'interesting', would you not say?"

Penny could hear the laughter in Lindir's voice.

"Highly entertaining."

Penny glanced round to see Glorfindel standing a little way behind her, arms folded and broad grin on his face.

"You as well, Lord Glorfindel? For shame!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"My dear Pen-ii, if you go about hanging off gilded pillars singing at the top of your lungs to a crowd of Rohirrim below you and a bewildered group of revellers standing at the top of the steps to the great hall behind you, we cannot, in all conscience, ignore the fact."

There was a brief pause as they took in the look of horror on her face. Then they burst out laughing.

Penny turned back to the fire, letting her forehead fall to her knees as she hugged her shins. This was a bloody nightmare. Her temples were throbbing, she felt utterly vile and out of it, and she could do without all of this.

She had no choice, though.

She sat in a sullen, mortified heap while they teased her mercilessly for a good ten minutes. Several other elves – those who had seen her at the Meduseld or else back at the camp – joined in with their little observations while those who had not yet heard about it all had all their questions answered in full. Penny was thus treated to a blow-by-blow account of her entire performance from the steps of the Meduseld to the camp, including Lindir taking great delight in explaining how Mireth and Eleniel had attempted to drag her to her tent but she had pulled just as hard in the opposite direction shouting loudly that she needed the latrine before she wet herself.

"Oh, yes, I heard that," said an ellon at the far edge of the group as he packed away some bread. "My wife wondered what on earth was going on. You were very loud, Pen-ii."

Penny decided now would be a good moment for the ground to open up and swallow her.

"What is all this?" Rhimlath had appeared.

"Oh, just relating the walk back to camp for our friend Pen-ii here. Seems she does not remember a lot of it," Celebdor replied brightly.

"Speaking of which," Lindir interrupted, "I am most intrigued by some of the songs you were singing. It is a pity Erestor was not with us, since I would love to get translations for them all."

Penny looked at him. She knew that he knew perfectly well that if they were songs she had kept quiet about up until now, they were probably not at all suitable for one reason or another. He was just baiting her. She tried ignoring him. It was taking all her willpower not to explode into swearing, or stomp off back to her tent. Her hangover was not helping her mood. She was vaguely cheered by Mireth pressing a cup of tea into her hand and she slurped at it gratefully.

"What ARE you drinking, Pen-ii?" Rhimlath suddenly grabbed the cup and sniffed.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"Ugh, not this dish water again! Really, Pen-ii, I have no idea what you see in the stuff, but this will not cure a hangover."

"Now, look here, Rhimlath… I am NOT in the mood this morning. Do NOT start with me."

Rhimlath gave her a disdainful look. "But really, Pen-ii, this 'teeh' as you call it, is utterly vile st-"

"I will have you know empires were built drinking this stuff!"

Rhimlath blinked at her as Penny snatched back her drink.

"Empires?"

"Shut up."

"No, you said 'empires'… What empires? Where?"

"I got my tenses muddled, I meant 'will be'. I was speculating. Leave me alone."

"That still doesn't answer my-"

"So, I want to know what 'gohl finn gar' means," Lindir hurriedly cut in. "That and 'teseks-sii'."

"Yes, Pen-ii, you must also teach us some of your dance steps." Glorfindel also tried to change the subject.

"Whur?" Penny blinked at him.

"I still want to know what she was-"

"I know 'shaht' is a tunic of some sort," Lindir continued, attempting to railroad Rhimlath into silence, "But Erestor was baffled by 'teseks-sii' when I asked him about it."

"That stuff is muck, I tell you," Rhimlath pointed at the tea pot in front of Penny.

"IT IS NOT!" Penny roared, on the verge of flinging her cup at him. This really was not helping her headache one iota. She paused suddenly. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Rhimlath hurriedly pulled back his hand, exchanging the briefest of glances with Lindir.

"No, no."

"But your knuckles are bruised-"

"I have a hangover cure that will work wonders," Rhimlath muttered, already getting to his feet. "Let me fetch it."

"I do not want it. Tea is all I need."

"I will fetch it anyway." He was already disappearing fast.

The decision had been made to spare Penny the further embarrassment of telling her about her Westron mistake the previous evening (and the consequences thereof). It was agreed that if the young man had not been quite so drunk, he would have immediately understood her intended rather than actual meaning. Added to which the young man (and his friends) were rather insistent that the story did not go too far since they were aware he had, in effect, insulted a guest and a friend of very high-ranking other guests. If the King had got to hear about it, the young man would have been torn off a strip, drunk or not.

Thus only a few knew. Elves may be gossips, but could keep their mouths shut if they needed to. One good thing had come from the incident, though: Rhimlath and Erestor had come to an agreement that her Westron lessons had to continue. No one wanted a repeat performance of the previous night's 'misunderstanding' in Gondor if only because etiquette was far more important there and the people far less forgiving. Not only that, but if Penny made a mistake like that again while in conversation with a less honourable sort too over-eager with drink and no one around to help her… Well, it really did not bear thinking about. Therefore Rhimlath had agreed to bow out and let Erestor, as her original teacher, carry on unimpeded.

Of course, several people had seen the fracas, and the fact that it had been Rhimlath who had landed the punch had set many tongues wagging. Over the rest of the day information would slowly be eked out so that by the evening nearly everyone in the camp would know that the scuffle had been over a misunderstanding in Westron. Of course everyone would put that down to Rhimlath's Westron being a little rusty, and it was an assumption Rhimlath was happy to leave uncorrected for the most part – for the young man's sake as much as Penny's.

Once Rhimlath had gone, Penny turned her attention back to Lindir's goading.

"Teseks-sii? I have no idea what you are talking about Lindir, but I suspect whatever it is, I will not tell you. Now, could you please leave me be? My head is hurting so badly I can barely keep my eyes open; I am ridiculously thirsty; I feel ill, tired, and am embarrassed beyond belief. I would like to sit here, drink my tea and try and recover. Is that too much to ask?"

"This is Lindir we are talking about here, Pen-ii," Eleniel pointed out. "Of course it is too much to ask."

"I have to say your style of dancing was… well… I am not sure that, in truth, I can find a word that well enough describes it."

"She was drunk, Glorfindel, I feel sure it was not an accurate representation," Lindir said.

"There was dancing?" The ellon at the far end looked highly amused.

"Oh, yes," Mireth responded gleefully. "Here, let us show you."

Penny watched in astonishment as Mireth dragged Eleniel to her feet and then the pair of them bobbed their heads and bounced from one foot to the other. They then added a few random arm gestures and hip wiggles into the bargain. The big finish was a perfectly executed move worthy of John Travolta himself as they pointed to the sky and then diagonally across themselves to the ground and back to the sky again. They collapsed into hysterics into each others' arms and the rest of the elves joined in their laughter.

"You call THAT dancing?" the ellon could hardly breathe he was laughing so hard.

"I know. It looks terribly much like someone with some sort of physical affliction, does it not?" sniggered Glorfindel.

"I still say Pen-ii actually had an itch or else a stone in one of her shoes," Celebdor countered.

"Care to enlighten us as to which it was?" Lindir turned to Penny.

Penny, however, was gone. She had fled back to her tent, taking her tea with her.

A little while later Eleniel appeared with an evil-smelling brew in a small jug: a gift from Rhimlath. Penny sniffed at it and had to stop herself from gagging.

"I know. It smells vile. It will work wonders, however, trust me. The Galadhrim swear by it."

Penny peered at the concoction. There was a raw egg floating on the top of it. She glanced up at Eleniel.

"It is up to you, Pen-ii. How unwell do you feel?"

"Very unwell. No, extremely unwell."

It was true: her brain felt like it was trying to climb out of her skull. Eleniel gave her a look that said 'well, if you really feel that bad, then drink the drink.'

"I thought you were going to give me something for my headache."

Eleniel pointed at the jug. "I have."

"Oh."

Damn.

"Hold your nose and down in one."

Penny nodded. She took a deep breath, screwed up her courage and did exactly as Eleniel suggested. It took all her strength to not let it just come right back up again, and how she managed to keep it down, let alone gulp down the entire thing, she had no idea. Swallowing the egg had been particularly nasty.

Within fifteen minutes she was feeling very well indeed, though. It was unpleasant but it worked.

Mireth had disappeared and would not be seen for most of the day. She, along with many others, had been commandeered by Elrond to deal with any of the sick and injured who were waiting for them. Elrond's sons had learnt much from their father in the ways of healing. They had done what they could but knew that for a couple of cases they could do nothing, whereas their father may just be able to help. He was the greatest healer in Arda, after all.

Consequently, the presence of Elrond and so many skilled elvish healers in Rohan was a great blessing to many of the Rohirrim. Their healers had skill, but were not comparable even to those in Minas Tirith (whose skill was renowned). Those Rohirrim who had suffered injury in Gondor had received the best possible treatment that existed amongst humans. Those who had been injured at Helms Deep had not been so fortunate. Several had died who in different circumstances might have lived, and there were many whose wounds had festered or been incorrectly dealt with. Elrond would have to perform or insist on more than one amputation today, just as his sons had feared. There would even be one or two lives that not even Elrond could save.

Word had spread and thus many had arrived to seek healing and succour. The skill of the elves as healers had been seen in Elladan and Elrohir, and while many were wary of the elves or in awe, for others the prospect that someone might be able to help their sick or their dying meant their fear was quickly overcome by their desperation. Not only that, but did these elves not have the 'magical queen from Lothlorien' with them? She could do anything, so it was said, and was hugely powerful.

Overnight a small crowd had formed near the encampment, and by first light a small tent and awning were being used as an impromptu triage unit.

Several had nothing to do with the war. A few cases were desperately sad. A mother whose boy was crippled, one leg withered, refused to understand there was nothing the elves could do for the child. Similarly the blind, the mad, the dying were treated with kindness and tenderness, but it had otherwise been a wasted journey for them or their families.

For the most part, though, the elves were inspecting wounds made by blade or arrow, or occasionally burns where a house had collapsed on a woman or a child. Often there was something they could give them – a balm that might aid healing or reduce scarring, perhaps – either that or advise them on how best to deal with the wound, to congratulate whoever had first tended them. Once or twice they saw something more serious where more detailed and lengthy work was needed.

Galadriel in particular made a point of talking to all who were not too intimidated by her. Widows and widowers, mothers who had lost sons or brothers, young children now orphaned, all felt their hearts calmed a little by Galadriel if she spoke to them, or even many of the other Eldar. There was such reassuring wisdom of the Ages with the elves that many Rohirrim felt their troubles, their pain eased for a while. The black despair lifted, and for perhaps the first time since the War was won they could see a brighter future in spite of all that they had lost.

Thus the elves' brief sojourn in Rohan would serve a higher purpose than mere etiquette and diplomacy. As Mireth had suggested it would be the night before: it was a busy day.

Penny was at something of a loose end and, feeling much better, wondered what she could do to help. She was desperate to go and have a wander round Edoras but was not sure if that would be acceptable or wise for to do so alone. She and Eleniel filled the morning playing with the children milling about with their families near the little triage tent. Penny taught them stick-in-the-mud which seemed to go down well, and they played a sort of hide-and-seek too. Mostly it was running and chasing, though.

"She is good with children."

"Indeed. I wonder if she was always so. With her own people, I mean."

Erestor glanced at Lindir.

"I think you can probably guess as well as I the answer to that, Lindir."

"Perhaps. I remember Halbarad saying how very much she had changed from when he first met her."

"She has changed. She would be the first to admit it, I think."

Penny sped past them chasing after a particularly giggly three year old girl with a mass of blond curls. Erestor raised an eyebrow.

"Either she has the constitution of an ox or else she has had the Galadhrim Hangover Cure."

"Rhimlath insisted on making her some."

"Ah. That would explain it. Argh!" Erestor switched to Westron as a small person suddenly darted round behind him and grabbed him about the knees. "Mind out there!" He had one hand on Lindir's shoulder and Lindir had hold of his arm. Even an elf could be floored by a determined toddler on the rampage if taken unawares.

"I am terribly sorry, Erestor. Hey you, come out from there. No using ancient high-born ellyn as hiding places. It is not fair."

Penny switched to a phrase in Westron she had learnt from Eleniel that morning that seemed to mean something akin to 'I'm coming to get you'. The child ran off with a delighted squeal, Penny close behind. Erestor recovered himself and straightened his tunic. He sighed.

"Ancient high-born ellyn as a hiding place… How is it she manages to make a compliment almost sound like an insult at the same time?" He chuckled.

At lunch Penny mentioned to Erestor about wanting to see Edoras in daylight. Elladan overheard and said he would happily give her a guided tour.

"Are you not busy? With the healers?"

"No, no. I can spare an hour."

In that hour Penny forgave him completely for the comb-washing incident. Elladan was true to his word and did indeed give her a complete tour of the place. Back on top of the hill she was able to see the answer to something that had been bothering her. She could not for the life of her work out why they had pitched camp on the north side of Edoras. It meant the camp sat right in the path of a strong north wind that had been whistling into the valley for most of the previous night as well as quite close to the barrows of the kings (which did not bother the elves but gave her the heebie-jeebies, frankly). She even said as much to Elladan as they made their way slowly through the town.

"Surely we could have made camp on the south side. We would have been screened from the wind for a start."

"Well, the wind is shifting, Pen-ii. Do you not notice it?"

Penny had to admit she had no idea about such things. She was aware, however, that as they neared the courtyard in front of the Meduseld the stench was not lessening the way it had the previous night. The wind was indeed coming from the southern side. Elladan led her round to the back of the great hall and pointed.

"That is your reason, Pen-ii. I know, given you share many of our elvish sensibilities about such things, you would not want to pitch camp too close to it."

It was a midden heap. A huge midden heap. A midden heap that proved how long, in human terms, Edoras had been around. Next to it was a smaller one that housed rotting down horse manure that was covered with weighted down sacking.

"But the stench…"

"It may be breezy up here, but it is also warm summer. It is the heat. I can assure you that in the winter months you barely notice it."

She looked at him.

"Well, a human might barely notice it."

Penny was ever so grateful Rohan was not an option on the list of where she may end up living for the rest of her days. She suspected that Minas Tirith would not be quite so rough and ready.

Elrond was back for a late lunch when they returned to camp. Penny knew this because she was sent for. Elladan led her to Elrond's tent, checking that she could enter and then leaving her to it. Penny felt slightly nervous. She wondered if she was about to get a dressing down for last night?

"Ah, Lady Pen-ii. You have had a pleasant hour with my son, I trust?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond, I thank you."

Elrond was seated with a cup in one hand. Erestor was leaning against some packs near him, a second cup in his hand and a wine skin beside him. There was no one else in the tent.

"I just wanted to let you know that after some discussion we feel you need to get back to your Westron lessons. You need to be able to better interact with the humans you will encounter."

Elrond's face betrayed nothing, though he knew exactly what had happened last night.

"Oh. I see. Very well."

"You need not look so worried. Rhimlath and I have come to an agreement," Erestor reassured her.

Penny looked unconvinced. She would believe it when she saw it.

"I also wanted to say… How shall I put this? You are, of course, free to do as you wish, but it might be more prudent if you were to treat any beverage as being potentially very strong in future."

Elrond was trying to be as tactful as he could.

"No one blames you, Pen-ii. Indeed we elves enjoy life, as you know full well; but mortals, especially Gondorians, are sticklers for their perceived principles. Women in higher society simply do not drink to excess. I felt I should warn you."

Penny could feel herself flushing a little. She felt embarrassed and, though she hardly dared admit it, faintly riled that she should be treated like some overgrown child in this way.

"It was hardly deliberate on my part, Lord Elrond, I can assure you. I certainly paid the price this morning."

They laughed quietly.

"I have no doubt, Pen-ii. Nor were you the only one. I felt it only fair that you be aware of how such a thing would be frowned upon in Gondor, that is all."

"Not only that," Erestor added, "but you would not wish to let something slip that you might later regret." Again this hinted at last night's debacle though Penny little knew it. "Such as empires being built on tea, for example."

Penny shut her eyes momentarily.

"No harm done. Glorfindel tells me Rhimlath had no idea what you meant by it."

"I am still amazed that such a drink will prove so useful," Elrond commented dryly. He saw the look in Penny's eye and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so it is your people that have built this empire, I take it?"

"And lost it too, which is no bad thing."

"How so?"

"Men oppressing men is not something to be condoned."

"Ah. Indeed."

"May I leave now?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. Yes. That was all we wished to say."

Elrond watched as a slightly tight-jawed Penny left the tent with a nod of the head.

"We annoyed her a little, I think," Erestor mused.

"It needed to be said," Elrond returned. "She should consider herself fortunate that we had not made it clear to her precisely how foolish she was last night."

"She may have made the same vocabulary mistake whether drunk or no, Elrond."

"Perhaps. That is not her fault-"

"No, it is not," Erestor cut in hotly.

Elrond held up a hand to stop him before the rant began. "Nor is it entirely Rhimlath's."

Erestor started to say something and then decided against it.

Meanwhile Penny was trying not to be annoyed. They had meant it kindly. They had not told her off. It still rankled a little, though. 'Like being called in to see the headmaster,' she thought to herself.

The rise in her irritability levels seemed to indicate the hangover was returning with a vengeance. She went to her tent to read for a little while but ended up falling asleep. When she awoke it was late afternoon and, even after she got up, she still felt a little groggy.

She wandered off to see where everyone was and what, if anything, was happening.

She ambled through the camp, back towards the little triage tent and the group of children she could see playing with Mireth, Celebdor and a few others. As she did so, she noticed, and not for the first time, that the adult Rohirrim barely acknowledged her.

'You would have thought, with me being the only human among this lot,' she fumed, little realising that it was precisely because she was the sole human among a bunch of elves that the Rohirrim thought her strange.

Not knowing any kind of Westron would have been odd enough (even though most Rohirrim knew little or none themselves), but for her to then be chattering away in Sindarin with the elves meant she was immediately branded an enigma.

Those that had fought or heard tales of what had gone on at Helm's Deep, let alone everywhere else, knew that long forgotten children's tales and folklore had suddenly come to life and proved themselves to be true. Huorns, hobbits, elves, ents - let alone people walking through the Paths of the Dead and surviving, or the King returned to Gondor and Sauron being defeated - were hard things to get your head around for most in Rohan, so you would have thought one more oddity would have made no difference here or there.

But Penny was that much stranger in some ways precisely because of her ordinariness. She was not of an unknown race lost in the mists of time. She was not a fulfilment of ancient prophesies or anything like it. She was just a foreigner.

That would have been bad enough, but she was also a foreigner who was hanging around with a very odd bunch of people indeed as far as your average Rohirrim was concerned. Not that they thought badly of the elves; far from it, but they were still a strange people known only by whisper and rumour. Elladan and Elrohir's presence among them of late had done much to allay such things, but it would never leave completely. Thus Penny was about as alien as it was possible for a human to be. Heck, even someone from Harad would be able to converse (just about) with a Rohirrim who spoke Westron.

No, Penny was just weird.

Added to which, since she was not staying and had all these elves to keep her company, with whom she could converse easily and among whom she clearly had good friends, the Rohirrim left her to it and made no effort with her. Why should they? It was not rudeness so much as wary practicality. She was no threat – that would be an insult indeed to Elrond and his people to think they would travel with someone dangerous amongst them – but she was odd enough to be given a wide berth.

News of that sort travelled fast, too.

"Have you seen there is a woman travelling with them?"

"I know! And speaks not a word of Westron, so I'm told."

"Strange, I call that. Very strange."

"Found wandering, she was, apparently. Lost and alone. But spoke no language of the north."

"Well, she's not from the south, either, I'll tell you that much for nothing."

"Have you seen the way she laughs and jokes with them?"

"Well, she has been staying with them for some time, so it's said."

"Yes, but where is her husband? Or her family? She's travelling alone, you know. She came all this way alone… with all those beautiful males at her beck and call. Disgusting, I call it!" (Some of the more trenchant 'fishwives' amongst the Rohirrim showed a distinctly base lack of understanding where elves were concerned; usually the ones who had been pushing their daughters under the noses of Elladan and Elrohir and been most put out when neither had shown the slightest interest).

"I don't like it. My mother always said to me…"

And so it went on. Little did she know it, but for most of the duration of her stay, Penny's ears were burning.

By the time she joined in with playing with the children, she actually found one or two mothers nearby snatching their children from her with a glare. One even spat something in Rohirric to her that was clearly very unfriendly and meant 'get the hell away from my daughter.' In any other circumstances Penny would have been upset or even angry. As it was she was still feeling a little wiped out, despite her afternoon nap, and responded to the woman with an astonished stare and nothing more.

She decided to sit out the rest of the games and any child that came to her she would shoo away with a laugh and a smile, telling them to go play.

She was actually feeling a bit weird, truth be told, and not because she was aware of two women muttering to each other, arms crossed over their bosoms and glancing in her direction every now and then.

Supper was up at the Meduseld once more. Penny was quiet all the way up the hill and felt as if she had very little energy.

"Are you unwell?"

"I think the hangover is back, Mireth, nothing more. An early night, that is all I need."

Mireth glanced at Rhimlath who was walking along behind them and he gave a slight shake of the head. The hangover cure should have counteracted it all completely, even in a mortal. Mireth decided to keep an eye on Penny.

The meal was simply that: a meal, not a feast. Soup, cold cuts, bread, cheese and fruit. Penny rejected all offers of beer, much to people's amusement. Mireth also noted, though, that she ate very little. Indeed Penny spent most of the meal staring at the bowl of soup in front of her and pushed it away practically untouched.

She seemed barely aware of the gentle ribbing of Rhimlath going on around her.

"Which table was it, Rhimlath? That one? This one?"

"You know, I felt sure I could smell wet dog all day. Have you washed since last night, Rhimlath?"

Rhimlath was doing his best to ignore them. "I shall rise above it."

"As opposed to sinking below us all to the floor," sniggered Lindir.

Rhimlath put down the apple he was paring with a knife. "Now see here, Lindir-"

"Don't berate me! I rescued you, remember. I could have left you there."

"You dragged me feet first down all those steps!"

"You are heavy!"

"I have lumps on the back of my head now!"

"Fine! Next time I'll leave you in a heap of stinking, slavering hounds, then!"

Penny suddenly cut in. "That was you?"

Rhimlath coloured slightly. "Ai, Elbereth. Even Pen-ii knows." He turned to her. "I believe you are in no position to mock those who had one beer too many last night."

"Perhaps. Even so… The mighty Rhimlath floored. Literally."

Celebdor choked on his soup, he laughed so hard. "Ah, but Pen-ii, Rhimlath was doing some 'flooring' of his own last night."

Rhimlath narrowed his eyes at Celebdor.

"Oh, yes. He got into a fight. Did you not, Rhimlath?"

Her grogginess temporarily forgotten, Penny stared at Rhimlath open-mouthed. "You? In a fight? A fist-fight, you mean? So that's how your hand got hurt!" She started laughing.

Rhimlath fumed. "Why does everyone find this so amusing? I have fought in many a battle in my time, you know."

"I am sure you have, Rhimlath, it's just… well… you are Rhimlath." Penny sniggered.

"Pen-ii makes a good point," chortled Celebdor.

"Rhimlath had his reasons, Pen-ii" Lindir said quietly, his tone suddenly serious. Penny glanced at him, wondering what he meant.

"Yes, what WAS it all about?" Eleniel's eyes shone bright with eagerness. "I have heard so many different versions about it all. Is it true you managed to mangle your Westron so badly you insulted his mother, he returned the favour, and you saw the red mist?"

"No, it is not!" Rhimlath looked outraged.

"So, what did happen, then?"

"I am honour bound not to repeat it."

Celebdor turned to his neighbour. "So it was his fault, then. Just as we suspected."

"Pen-ii?" Mireth was suddenly concerned to see Penny had turned round in her seat and was struggling to get to her feet. She was looking very pale. "Pen-ii, what is it?"

"N-nothing, I just… I just do not feel too well. I think I need to go back to camp. I just need a lie down… or some fresh air."

Glances were exchanged.

"It's the effects of last night, I am sure."

"I will go with you." Mireth was already on her feet.

"Well, I will accompany you," Celebdor added.

"No, I will," Rhimlath responded quickly. He was grateful to be able to avoid answering everyone's questions if nothing else. "I have finished eating. You stay and finish your meal, Celebdor. I will take them both." He wiped the blade of his small knife and pocketed it, then handed the remains of the apple to Lindir. "We shall take one of the horses. It will save Penny the walk if she is feeling that tired."

Mireth did not return to the Meduseld with Rhimlath but stayed with Penny as she washed and got ready for bed. By the time she crawled under her blanket, Penny was aware that she was feeling very out of it indeed, but just put it down to tiredness and delayed after effects of last night's beer.

All that changed at around midnight. It then became brutally clear it had nothing to do with the hangover at all.

Author's Notes:

I imagine this game is played the world over, but it may not be called 'stick-in-the-mud' by everyone. It's like 'tag' or 'it'. One person is chasing and if they catch or touch you then you are frozen and cannot move. Others can 'unfreeze' you by crawling between your legs, but they have to be careful not to be caught themselves in the process. The object is for the person who's 'it' to try and catch everyone so they are frozen.

There are Viking or Anglo-Saxon examples that show that midden heaps can get very big indeed, especially if next to a settlement that stays in situ for centuries. They can form near barrow-sized hills, and indeed are sometimes mistaken for barrows.

Chapter 19 – It Never Rains

Penny was having bad dreams. Of what, she was not sure, but she was aware she was restless even as she slept. It felt like she was waking up every five minutes, though of course she was not, and the dreams seemed vivid enough at times that the line between reality and fantasy was blurred. Every now and then she would become fully conscious for a second or two and the thought would flit through her head that she was going to be exhausted in the morning if this carried on. She was also aware at such moments that she was feeling increasingly unwell. Hard to put her finger on exactly, but she was feeling 'icky' and a bit achy.

Mireth murmured words over her every time she noticed Penny stirring and eventually, by the time the other ellith were arriving back from the Meduseld, Penny had passed into a slightly easier sleep.

Not for long, though.

It was the middle of the night when Penny awoke with a start. She felt that horrible sort of clammy dampness about her that meant she had been sweating all over, but that was not her immediate concern.

No, her immediate concern was much more desperate.

She had that arching in the back of her throat, her saliva glands suddenly in overdrive: she knew she was about to throw up at any moment. Not only that, but judging from the violent cramps in her stomach she also needed the latrine and urgently.

She had no time to think. She leapt to her feet, grabbing her blanket and wrapping it round her as she did so, then ran as fast as she could out of the tent.

"Pen-ii?" Mireth sat bolt upright. The other ellith in the tent were just as startled.

There was no answer. Penny, dressed in nothing but an undershift and a blanket, was already steaming over the grass outside at top speed. Eleniel, Arwen and Mireth quickly pulled dresses on over their heads and ran out after her, calling her name.

It was not terribly late, or not as far as elves were concerned who need far less rest than humans. Thus there were still a few small groups of people round the fire chattering, laughing and singing quietly. They all heard the shouting and looked up to see what the matter was. Erestor, Rhimlath, Lindir, Glorfindel and Celebdor were on their feet the moment they heard Penny's name and then saw her racing along as if a horde of orcs were on her tail.

Penny was not sure she was going to make it. She was straining against the stomach-lurching, gagging sensation in her throat. When her blanket caught on a tent-peg she had no time to stop to try and wrench it free. Instead she had to let it fall, clapping her hand to her mouth as she did so, nearly stumbling, desperate to reach her goal before her body completely rebelled against her.

Summer undershifts are made of a thin material and the moon was high and full. As Penny's blanket fell to the ground there was a collective gasp along with several oaths and load exclamations as every ellyn watching turned away at the same time, instinctively shutting their eyes as they did so.

That had been a LOT more of Penny than any of them had ever wanted to see.

One hand grasping her undershift in her hand to stop herself tripping, Penny pelted down the slight slope to the latrine. The onlookers had their hands to their eyes or were squinting slightly, their heads turned away as if unsure of quite where to look. Meanwhile, Penny near enough threw herself behind the latrine screens and immediately started retching loudly and miserably.

Something was clearly very wrong.

Several ellyn started towards the edge of the encampment to see if they could help in any way. As they did so they were overtaken by the three ellith running as fast as their legs could carry them. Lindir held out his hand to stay Eleniel as she hurried past with Penny's fallen blanket.

"No, Lindir, you stay here. We'll see to it. Please, give her some privacy."

He nodded. Penny could just be heard in the distance being very violently ill. The males turned and retreated. Most went back to the fire, suddenly quiet and uneasy, but those who knew Penny well stayed in a small group where they could just see the screens and the trio of ellith talking animatedly outside them. Glorfindel went off to let Elrond know what was happening.

The next hour was amongst the most vile Penny had yet suffered in Middle-earth, or so she decided later.

It was a good job she just made it to the latrine, because the action of her body spasming with each violent retch made sure that her bowels kicked in as well. She had no control over her body, and every few minutes it betrayed her. She was losing any solids or fluids she may have taken in over the last twenty-four hours in the most unpleasant way her body knew how.

Eventually Mireth persuaded Penny to let her come into the latrine, though that had been a battle and a half, with Penny point blank refusing between sobs and retches until they could hear her teeth chattering, and not just from the fresh night air. At which point Mireth had got very forceful indeed, reminding Penny she was a healer and seen pretty much everything in her time. She then took over the situation, helping Penny get out of the old undershift and wrapping the blanket round her to keep her warm since it was clear she could not move for a little while yet. Then she instructed the others to bring a clean undershift and some water.

As Arwen and Eleniel hurried back to the camp, Elrond met them to get an assessment of the situation. Eleniel left Arwen to it while she went to fetch the water, undershift and another blanket in case it was needed. Arwen gave her father the briefest outline of what was happening. She did not need him to tell her this was potentially very serious indeed. At only a slight remove to them both, the other ellyn stood quietly listening to what she was saying. The expressions on their faces said it all.

Penny was in very serious trouble, and they all knew it.

At last Penny's stomach and gut realised there was nothing left to get rid of for the time being and relented. She washed herself (leaves were useless) as best she could, swilled water round her mouth. She tried drinking a little, but regretted it when she more or less brought it straight back up again. Mireth and Eleniel helped her into a clean shift, Arwen wrapped a second blanket round her, and the four walked slowly back to the encampment… or tried to. The first few times they barely got a few feet away from the latrine before Penny had to make a mad dash back into it, but eventually they made it as far as Elrond and the others.

Penny was pale and shivering, her hair lank against her head. It was obvious she was very ill indeed. She barely noticed the group of concerned looking ellyn exchanging glances as they saw her. She just let Arwen, her arm round Penny's shoulder, lead her back to her tent.

Once there they wrapped her in blankets and put her to bed.

Throughout the rest of the night they watched over her as she grew increasingly feverish. At least once Elrond came and murmured quietly over her, ancient lore he had learnt from elves as old as Galadriel herself. Nor was he the only one: several among the healers recited or sang in an attempt to help Penny in any way they knew how.

She could not keep anything down, though they tried to get her to drink a little water. Mostly, though, she needed a chamber pot since she had no time to make it to the latrine each time, even if she had had the energy to get herself there (which she did not by this stage). She felt hugely ashamed and embarrassed at such moments, well aware that others could no doubt hear her even outside the tent thanks to elvish hearing and the complete lack of privacy. At least the other ellith that usually shared the tent had all gone to rest elsewhere or decided to stay up for the night, thus giving Penny some space, and she was grateful for small mercies.

In her more lucid moments, Penny was scared.

If this was something like salmonella…? God, that hospitalised people, didn't it? Even with all the advances of modern medicine, people died of that kind of thing in the twenty-first century, didn't they? What did they have here? A few bits of old twig in water. What sodding use was that?

She felt waves of despair and fear roll over her when she thought about it.

She was going to die. She had come to see Rohan, and it had bloody killed her! She was going to DIE.

Her distress was palpable to any in the tent with her, and not just because they could sense such moments. She would become more restless, try and get up or even speak. She even wept a little at times: from sheer exhaustion, feeling so horribly unwell, the shame of the diarrhoea, but mostly because she was more scared than she had ever been in her life.

"She fears death," Galadriel said quietly to Elrond. She had insisted on coming to see if there was something she could do the moment Elrond had informed her and Celeborn. "This illness is something that even in her time they sometimes cannot cure."

"Indeed." Elrond looked grim. "I have seen such illness carry off many mortals before now." He sighed. "She is young and strong. Let us pray she can fight this."

Just before dawn she was able to keep down a little water, but she seemed strangely reluctant to drink it.

"You must, Pen-ii," Mireth insisted quietly. "You need to replace the water you have lost."

"Boil," was all Penny could manage to croak out.

"What is it, Pen-ii? What do you need? If you are able to keep this down, then I can give you a little medicine." Elrond was kneeling beside her bedroll.

"Boiling kills diseases in water."

Elrond nodded. "I know, Pen-ii. You forget I have long learnt knowledge in this field. All the water we will give you from now on has been boiled and kept separate from any other water. You need not fear."

She muttered her thanks and an apology.

"Do not apologise. It is as well to tell us of anything that you think may help us heal you."

The moment they were sure she was keeping the water down they made her drink a herbal concoction made with miruvor and then, a little later, a paste of berries and herbs. The latter tasted vile – like jam and oregano – but she was assured it was the best thing to deal with stomach bugs.

She sank back to sleep, but not before bringing the jam paste back up again. They would have to try again with it later.

"What are we to do? She cannot travel in such a state and yet we have to leave today if we are to reach Minas Tirith in time."

"We cannot impose upon the Rohirrim to look after her, Ada."

Already tents and awnings were being dismantled, horses readied, bags packed. Dawn had broken and, while they would not be off for a while yet since there was much to be done, a decision had to be made about what to do with Penny. An impromptu meeting was held in Elrond's tent.

"Arwen, you know how ill she is. It is not at all practical for her to come with us, much as I am sure your father would wish her to so that he could keep an eye on her care. In her current state, she would have to stop very frequently for at least a day or two, possibly longer. She would slow us down or else get left far behind." Erestor was trying to be practical.

"She would also find travelling very uncomfortable," Galadriel said quietly. "Any movement is a trial to her: she is wracked with aches and pains."

"The Rohirrim have one or two competent enough healers, and we would leave strict instructions as to how she was to be treated."

"With all respect, Elrond, are you sure that is the wisest of courses?" Lindir looked sceptical. "Besides, I thought the whole point of inviting her to travel with us was so she could see Gondor. At this rate-"

"She could always be sent for once she is recovered," Erestor interjected.

"Lord Elrond, you said yourself we would have to leave instructions with the healers. Would it not be better for her to stay with us who need no such instruction?" Mireth, as one of the chief healers of Imladris and a close friend of Penny's, had been asked to accompany Arwen to this meeting.

"You have seen this place," Arwen added, also addressing her father, "You have heard Elladan and Elrohir talk of it." Arwen gestured at her brothers, both sitting quietly on their father's bedroll listening to the debate swing back and forth. "The Rohirrim are a good and noble people, but their habits…"

Arwen did not finish the sentence. She knew her father understood her meaning.

"That was also what I was referring to," Lindir added quietly.

"I agree." Glorfindel's mellow tones were added to the discussion. "She managed to avoid falling ill in all the time she was in Imladris and while we were travelling. No coincidence, I would suggest."

"I am aware of that," Elrond replied. "In truth I was thinking that one or two of our number would stay with her to make sure she was properly attended to and that things were kept clean."

"As clean as they can be in this place, Ada," muttered Elladan. "There are limits even for the most conscientious of elves."

He gave an involuntary shudder. His elvish sensibilities had been sorely tried by his brief stay with the Rohirrim. It was not an experience he wished to repeat any time soon.

"If it is your decision that Pen-ii stay, then I would happily stay with her," Mireth said. "I know Celebdor would stay with me, and probably Eleniel also." Her tone made it clear, though, that she did not think this would be the best thing to do.

Arwen looked at her father, her eyes pleading. "This place has made her ill. What is to say she will not get worse if she stays here? I realise it will be hard work for her and us dealing with one so ill while we travel, but-"

"There is also the added issue of leaving a sick mortal behind us here amongst a people who are naturally inward-looking and suspicious," Elrohir pointed out. "You do not think that Pen-ii would be looked upon with displeasure? A sick stranger in their midst uninvited?"

"She would be under royal patronage, Elrohir."

"Elrohir makes a fair point, Erestor," Celeborn countered. "I can see the argument on both sides here, but I think we can only take her with us, Elrond. I understand you were trying to make things easy for all concerned, but the risk to her health is too great. You yourself commented on the conditions here in Rohan to me only the other evening, did you not?"

It was true. Elrond's sons had warned him before that first trek up the hill, but even Elrond could not quite believe it till he saw it for himself.

"Compared to some of the peoples in the north-" Elrond began.

"Oh, I think we can all agree they are not the worst of mortals by any means in terms of sanitation and cleanliness. Neither are they up to the standards we elves consider usually acceptable, however."

"Or Pen-ii's standards," Lindir pointed out. "It was one of the things that she shares with us and marks her as different from most mortals I know."

"Oh, indeed. Such things matter as much to her as they do to us." Mireth nodded her head in agreement.

There was a brief silence then as everyone looked to Elrond. His was to be the final decision.

"Can we still reach Minas Tirith in time for midsummer?"

Glorfindel and Erestor nodded.

"If necessary a small group of us can follow slowly behind if we are really losing too much time, Elrond. This is Pen-ii's life we are discussing here. I know you would agree that conditions here might do her more harm than good."

"I am aware of that, Glorfindel. I had thought, given the practical difficulties, that if I left instruction or even one or two elves here with her… But I see now that even that would probably be too much of a risk. However, it may be that we cannot help her even with all our skill. Once such a sickness takes hold, as you all well know, there is little that can be done other than hope the one affected can battle their way to health."

Another silence fell, though for a different reason this time. They all knew the stakes were high and though some of them were perhaps not as attached to Penny in friendship as Lindir or Mireth, it still saddened them to think of any mortal being in this much danger.

"Do I take it that she travels with us, then?" Arwen's voice was very quiet. Elrond crossed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes.

"Yes. It is for the best for her sake. I quite agree with you. Do not fear, Arwen, we shall do all we can for her."

"And we shall get you to Estel in time also." Elrohir smiled and winked, then laughed as his sister flushed a little.

Back in Penny's tent a little later, Arwen was crouched down beside her. She stroked her forehead gently, and Penny opened her eyes blearily and looked up at her.

"I am sorry."

"Do not be so foolish, Pen-ii. You cannot blame yourself for falling ill."

Penny felt so unwell it really was not funny. She was as scared as hell and just could not get warm no matter how many blankets they put on her. Arwen could feel how hot her forehead was beneath her palm.

"Pen-ii, we need to leave today, and you are perhaps too unwell to travel."

Penny immediately focused all her attention on Arwen.

"We considered leaving you here under the care of the Rohirrim. My father would have returned for you on his way North or sent for you from Minas Tirith when you are recovered."

"No!"

Penny struggled to get upright. Mireth tried to get her to lie back down but she would not, though she had little enough strength to sit up. She instead used Mireth's arm to rest on. She had no idea what she had made her ill. It could have been anything: one badly cooked piece of meat, one person's unwashed hands on a piece of fruit or any food item, bugs in the water her system was not used to, the general grottiness and filthiness of the place… Who knew? Whatever the case, Penny was convinced that if she stayed she was highly likely to ingest more of whatever bug it was, or other more virulent bugs that would finish her off even if this one did not.

"You cannot! Please! I will die if I stay here! Please, I beg you!"

"Calm yourself, Pen-ii. I was only explaining that-"

"I am safer with those who can heal, with those who are clean! Please…"

She was aware her travelling in this condition would be a huge pain in the arse for them all, but this was a case of life or death as far as she was concerned.

"Do not fear, Pen-ii. We realise that. You will go with us. I was trying to explain our reasoning, that was all."

Penny sank back down onto her bedroll. Thank God. The effort was huge to talk let alone to try and think this coherently. She nodded.

"I am sorry. Of course."

"You really are too ill to travel, but we feel we cannot leave you here. As you say, you will be better served being in the company of our healers."

'And out of the way of the filth of Rohan,' Penny thought. She glanced at Arwen and suddenly realised that was indeed a large part of the reason.

"We have cared for you this long, Pen-ii. We shall make sure you make it to Minas Tirith." Arwen tried a smile to encourage and reassure her. "You wish to see Gondor, do you not?"

Penny gave her a weak smile in return, but Arwen could see by the expression in her face she was worried if she would even make it that far.

"Do not fear, Pen-ii. You are in the best hands."

Penny knew it, but she still could not stop a tear trickling down her face. The idea that they had even considered leaving her in this hellhole... She was so grateful they had decided against it that she really did not have the words to express it.

She drifted back into a fitful sleep. Her tent was the last to be dismantled so that she could rest and be in privacy until the last possible moment.

The barrels of Rohirric beer Eomer was sending Aragorn as a wedding gift were to be taken in a small cart. The barrels were securely lashed, and a space beside them was made that was big enough for Penny to lie down and one person to sit with her. The provisions that would have taken the space were easily loaded onto horses.

Penny had managed to take the jam and herb mixture, but it was clear a little later on that even if she was no longer vomiting, anything remotely solid was going straight through her. It was not a good sign. Elrond could only hope that they could keep her intake of fluids up and the diarrhoea would not last more than a few days or a week at maximum. Otherwise even his skill might not be enough.

Eomer and Eowyn came to see them off. Both wished Arwen well and hoped her marriage would be happy and blessed. Elladan and Elrohir were given warm farewells by many of the Horse lords before they were allowed to mount their steeds.

Penny was loaded up into the cart, barely able to walk but insisting on trying. Lindir and Celebdor had hold of her on either side and Mireth was waiting in the cart for her. Celebdor jumped up into the cart and grabbed hold of her as Lindir passed Penny up to him as if she were no more than a sack of wheat. Those Rohirrim who spotted it, especially the women, muttered darkly about strangers bringing disease into their midst and it being no bad thing she was leaving, just as Elrohir had suspected they might.

"If we all come down with contagion," carped one vicious fishwife, "we will know who to blame right enough."

Eowyn, overhearing one or two of the comments, made a point of going over to Penny to say she hoped she would get better soon.

"I am sorry we have not met properly before. Lord Elrond told us a little of your story. You were fortunate indeed to have been rescued by one as noble as a Dunadan, and then to be cared for by elves. You are in the best of hands, and I am sure such skilled healers as these will see you back on your feet once more. I had hoped to meet you last night, but alas you had left the meal before I had a chance to do so. Fare you well, fair maid. May the gods of the west smile upon you."

Penny barely understood a word, but smiled as graciously as she could, nodding while she struggled to keep her eyes open. Arwen noted Eowyn's slightly raised eyebrow and piercing look back towards a gaggle of sour looking women and realised what it had been about. Some of that infamous strength of spirit showing itself, she noted. She thanked her for her hospitality, and Eowyn thanked her in turn for the great service the elves had done their people.

"You have been here such a little time and yet achieved so much. We shall forever be in your debt."

"And all of Arda shall be in yours," Arwen murmured.

Eowyn said nothing though she knew Arwen was referring to. She rubbed at her newly healed left arm. A hint of sadness passed over her face as that moment of terrible horror was relived for an instant in her own head.

Arwen reached out a hand and touched her arm briefly, smiling gently. "We shall meet again soon. Fare you well till then. It has been an honour and a pleasure to meet you."

Eowyn smiled. "I too have been honoured and pleased to meet you, Lady Arwen. Truly."

Eomer made a small speech thanking the elves for the good they had done, saying Rohan had been truly blessed to have ones such as they walk among them. He had lavished gifts upon them the previous evening, giving them various weapons or artefacts showing the best of Rohirric craftsmanship. No doubt he was well aware they would be nothing more than curiosities to ones of such skill and artistry as elves. Even so, they had been warmly and gratefully received and the thanks of Elrond and the others had been sincere. Now Celeborn responded in kind, presenting Eomer with a truly splendid elvish sword as a gift by which the elves would forever consider him friend. Eomer inclined his head in gratitude, the pride in his face clear for all to see.

Then, at long last, the diplomatic formalities over with, they were off.

Jolted and bumped every now and then in the cart, Penny had no idea what lay ahead of her. She would have a hellish couple of days at least, but even if this did not kill her, how long would it last? Would she arrive in Minas Tirith still vomiting her guts up and unable to go more than an hour without rushing to the latrine? Would she even live to make it that far?

The cart hit another lump of grass, and Penny gasped as the vehicle bumped heavily over it.

"My apologies," Naurdir glanced round to Penny and Mireth. "I am trying to choose the flattest path, but there is little I can do at times."

"No matter, Naurdir, do not worry," Mireth smiled. She turned back to Penny. "Are you warm enough?"

Penny shivered and shook her head. Mireth pulled out another blanket from the little pile she was sitting on and laid it over Penny. "There. Try and rest. The moment you feel you need to relieve yourself then you must let me know. Do not feel shy. If we need to stop, we will stop no matter how frequently or where we might be."

Quite how the logistics of it would be managed in the wide open, flat, rolling countryside of Rohan, Penny had no idea. She was not sure she wanted to think about it.

Mireth put a flask to her lips and encouraged her to drink some of it. Penny recognised it as the herbal mixture they had already given her once in the early hours. It also contained something to help her sleep, though she little knew it, and she soon felt herself lulled into drowsiness, the gentle swaying of the cart as Naurdir managed to drive over some smoother ground helping also.

Mireth watched her friend as she drifted off to sleep. Then she looked up to see Eleniel riding alongside them, looking as worried as Mireth felt. The two exchanged a glance, unspoken concern passing between the two, yet they both knew that nothing could be done other than wait and see what fate had in store.

Those who say the Rohirrm make no mention of the Valar, Eru or anything akin to the belief and lore of the elves or Numenoreans forget the oath of Eorl (which Eomer renewed with Aragorn) which mentions both: "And Cirion said: this oath will last for the remembrance of the glory of the land of the star and of the faith of Elendil the faithful. They shall keep it, those who sit on the thrones in the West, and the One who dwells above all thrones forever." see Unfinished Tales Yes, those are Cirion's words, but Eorl and subsequent Rohirric kings swore by them and made allegiance by them. There is little or no mention of religion in ANY of the peoples of Middle-earth (even the elves). However, that does not mean that the Rohirrim would not swear by such things or have some understanding, though it could be argued that any deep understanding on such matters was held by the elves alone, and possibly within Gondorian lore and Dunedain stories (thanks to their Numenorean heritage). Hence my having Eowyn hoping 'the gods of the west' would smile upon Penny and heal her. I left it vague since we have no idea what word (if any) the Rohirrim used for 'Valar'. It may be they used the same word or had their own – we do not know.

The berry/jam paste and herb mix is actually one I heard of on a food programme on BBC Radio 4. Unfortunately I cannot now remember the berry or the herb, but I think it was cranberry or redcurrant (though it could have been something else entirely), and something like thyme or sage. Anyway, the point was that both were excellent curatives but mixed together they acted to form a superb antibiotic that was particularly effective for food poisoning and stomach disorders.

And I have to say I was not sure whether to be amused or alarmed by the amount of people who thought she was pregnant. Yes, I know some of you were joking, but not all of you...

Chapter 20 - "I'm H.A.P.P.Y."

The next few days slipped past in a haze of discomfort for Penny.

Life in the cart was vile. All she wanted was to be able to lie as still as possible and sleep, but every movement reminded her she ached all over and felt desperately ill, despite Naurdir or Lindir's best efforts to direct the horses to smooth ground (it was invariably one or the other driving). Penny would lie there, bumping along, half out of it with weakness and the herbs she had been given. Snatches of song floated over her head or else Mireth or Eleniel chatted away to her about everything and nothing to try and take her mind off things and make the time pass by. Sometimes one of them would read to her – usually from one of her two books. In her more alert moments, Penny was aware of various people she knew walking or riding alongside and asking after her, but she was not much up to conversation.

Evenings were a great relief – when they were able to stop at last and she could curl up on her bedroll and finally rest at last (without being jolted awake by the cart rolling over a boulder or thudding down into a pothole). She stayed in her tent, too weak to move and feeling too unwell to make any attempt at being sociable. Mireth and Eleniel stayed with her most of the time, and Arwen on many occasions as well. Various people would come and visit, to chat or see how she was doing. Males did not stay for too long, but Galadriel was a fairly regular visitor chatting to Arwen and the others while Penny did her best to stay awake.

The ellith that usually shared their tent all found places elsewhere to rest for the next few days. Only Mireth, Eleniel and Arwen remained. Thus Penny could maintain some privacy. She had had to get over her shame simply because practicalities would not allow for anything else, and both Mireth and Eleniel in particular became almost matronly in their care of her, refusing to allow her to feel any embarrassment. (Though even Penny was aware of the fresh flowers and burning of scented oils at times, no matter how surreptitiously it was done). They went out of their way to make it seem as if all this was the most normal occurrence in the world for them both, and not revolting in the slightest.

She could not thank them enough.

'I am sorry' and 'thank you' quickly became her most overused phrases on the journey yet, easily outstripping 'bloody elves' by miles.

She ate very little for the first day or two. She did not feel hungry and refused anything other than the jam mixture twice a day and a spoonful of honey three times a day that was to remain her main curative (along with various herbal infusions and healing words). However, when the diarrhoea showed no signs of abating, they insisted she try to eat a little broth and bread as well, if only so her system had something to be dealing with.

She did not need to be told how important it was that she drank as much water as she felt she could cope with.

Her days and nights were filled with dozy fretfulness and a weakness and lethargy like nothing she had ever known. Penny was well aware how very ill she was, and how much trouble she was putting them all to.

"Will you please stop apologising?" Eleniel laughed gently. "We are your friends, Pen-ii, and you have need of our skill. We are happy to be able to help you."

Penny and the three ellith were alone in the tent. Arwen was singing quietly to herself, sitting by the open tent flap and staring up at the stars. Mireth was sitting beside her, listening, with her head bowed. Eleniel had just fetched some water for Penny, for which Penny was thanking her.

Eleniel made to stand, presumably to join her friends, but Penny stopped her. "You have been so very kind to me, both you and Mireth, from that first day when I arrived in Imladris. I… I shall never forget it."

Eleniel said nothing, but smiled.

"I was so very lost and alone. I could not think of how I would bear being somewhere so different. Nothing was the same. Everything… I had to learn everything… I must have seemed so foolish to you both."

Eleniel was looking at her slightly more intently. She glanced up to see Mireth had turned her head a little, listening to Penny now instead of Arwen.

"Not foolish, no." Eleniel caught Mireth's gaze. "A little… strange, perhaps. Unusual."

Penny felt so weak she could not lift her head from the cloak wrapped under her head that served as a pillow. She nodded.

"I am from a culture very different to yours."

Mireth had turned round completely now. Eleniel smiled at Penny.

"I know."

"I do remember. I did not forget."

"Yes, I know. We had guessed."

"Your story is a strange one. We realised that a long time ago, Pen-ii." Mireth had come over to sit beside Eleniel. "We told you this in Lothlorien. Have you forgotten?"

"No. No, I had not forgotten. I just felt that I owed you an explanation."

Eleniel shook her head, the smile still not leaving her face. "There is no need for it, Pen-ii. Try and rest."

"But-"

"Eleniel is right. You must not launch into a great tale of your past now. You need to sleep and rest and get well, my friend." Mireth pulled up the blanket a little, making it clear she would accept no argument.

Arwen had stopped singing.

"Here, drink a little of this," Eleniel said as she held out a flask to Penny.

Penny drank and felt the familiar sleepiness overtake her.

By the end of the third day after they had left Rohan, Elrond was becoming concerned. Penny was aware she was getting weaker, and the slight look of anxiety that none of them could hide completely from their eyes told her everything she needed to know. When not in Penny's presence, Elrond looked grim indeed. The jam mixture and the honey were helping – the frequency and violence of the diarrhoea was slowly lessening at last – but if her body could not absorb more fluid more quickly, that success would be too little too late since it was clear the diarrhoea would continue for a good few days at least.

Penny knew she needed something to help her body absorb the fluids it needed. A half-memory was rattling around the back of her head from her student days – a cheap alternative to pharmacy-bought remedies someone had told her about once – but she could not bring it to the fore, could not put her finger on it. What the hell was it?

It was that night, as Mireth knelt down beside Penny's bedroll with a spoon and a jar of honey in her hands, that Penny had a lightbulb moment.

"Can I have that in water?" she asked just as Mireth put the spoon into the jar.

"If you wish," Mireth nodded. "So long as you have it, you may eat it how you choose."

"And add a little salt to it?"

Mireth looked at her, clearly a little puzzled by this request.

"Sugar and salt. Together. It helps the body soak up water inside." Trying to describe the digestive process in Sindarin was beyond Penny. "I am sure honey would work just as well as sugar."

Elrond looked intrigued, slightly sceptical, but not averse to the idea when Mireth came to him in his tent with Penny's request. He considered and then nodded slowly.

"If she thinks that will help, I have no objection. The effect of the water and the salt should not have any counter-effect on the honey for the purposes for which it is being given. Though," he paused for a moment. "I am not sure it will be at all pleasant to drink."

Within a day Elrond could sense this was helping her to replenish the loss of fluids, though a less trained eye might not have noticed a discernible difference. This, along with the positive (if slow) effect their own remedies were having on calming the stomach upset, meant he at last allowed himself to think the worst may be behind them, though it was still touch and go.

However, the next day Penny took a downturn and, after the improvement of the previous day, Elrond was mystified at first and a little worried. Penny seemed very out of sorts, moody and disinclined to talk to anyone at all. She slept for most of the day.

The following morning, Penny was pale, clearly in great discomfort and had stomach pains. Elrond was immediately very concerned, but once Mireth had quietly taken him to one side and explained, Elrond berated himself for not realising at once what was going on. Of course, with everything else, Penny had not thought to take any of the herbs Mireth had given her back in Imladris to help calm down her system a bit prior to a period.

Penny decided that having Mireth and Eleniel offer to wash out her period cloths for her was nearly as embarrassing as those moments when she had to call the cart to a sudden stop so she could rush frantically into the bushes (with Mireth running behind her armed with a water sac and a large sheet to screen Penny if she needed to be).

They brought her water (and, at her insistence, her soap) to her on her bedroll and she washed the cloths herself as best she could.

"I can manage!" she insisted, though it was clear she was struggling to find the energy to deal with it.

Mireth or Eleniel would then hang the cloths near a small fire outside their tent to dry. Just as had happened after they had left Lothlorien, a small gaggle of ellith sat round the fire so as to make it less obvious as to its primary purpose. Penny would come and sit or lie on a bedroll near the entrance so she could participate and feel included.

A week after they left Rohan, the diarrhoea seemed to finally be easing off at last. Penny was able to sit up in the cart and chat back for short periods at a time to those who came to amble or trot alongside to see how she was doing – a sure sign she was improving at last. She was still very weak. The illness had been very severe and it would be a while before she was back to full strength.

She was also able to take in a little of the countryside they were travelling through. She had always been aware of the mountains, looming large and cold to their right as they had journeyed. Their peaks seemed huge and, while they pretty much kept to the lowlands, following the line of the river, the land still undulated at times so that they had to wind round headlands or bends in the floodplain.

However, they had spent the previous day passing through the edge of a small wood, the shade of the trees providing a welcome break from the bright summer sun. As had happened on their journey south from Fangorn to Edoras, news of this large company of journeying elves had travelled to every village, farmstead and hamlet. Thus, the sight of children waving in the distance or small groups of adults coming to stare as they passed by was not unusual. But this day, as they had reached the wood's eastern edge, four armed men had stopped them and greeted them, bowing low and bidding them welcome.

"These are guards from the Halifirien beacon," Erestor had explained as he trotted alongside the cart. "This marks the spot where the land of Anórien begins."

So, they were in Gondor at last.

Several times more on their journey they would be greeted by one or two of the Gondorian guards who manned the staging posts below the beacons. It was at these spots that errand riders on their way from Gondor to Rohan could water their horses or change them for fresh ones if they were on an urgent mission. It was an indication that they were nearing their goal at last, and the very thought made Penny feel excited, in spite of her lethargy and tiredness.

On the seventh night of travelling, Celebdor helped Penny down from the cart and together, with Celebdor still supporting her, they made their way over to what was to become a small space in the middle of the tents. There Celebdor deposited her wrapped in her blankets and with her copy of Quenta Silmarillion, while he went to help setting up the last of the tents. She watched as Naurdir made preparations for supper, feeling slightly envious of the fact that most people would get a good hearty meal that night while she would be on the weak broth yet again.

An ellon was helping Naurdir organise food, opening baggages and taking out vegetables, bread and utensils. At one point he lifted out a jar which he seemed puzzled by, looking at it as if he had not seen it before. The jar was sealed with wax as well as a cork, so he was wary of opening.

"Naurdir, what is this? Is this needed for tonight?"

Naurdir looked up. "Ah, no, that was a parting gift from the Rohirrim." He considered. "Actually, they did say to leave it only a week, so it should be ready by now, whatever it is."

"So should I open it?"

"I think I should check with Elrond first. It was meant to be some kind of medicine or food for Lady Pen-ii here."

Penny blinked. "For me? What is it?"

"Horse's milk, I believe."

Penny wished she had not asked. "But why in Arda would they-?"

"Milk!" The ellon looked revolted. "But it will have gone bad in this heat, surely? And they wanted her to drink it after she has been so very ill?"

Naurdir shrugged, but it was clear he was in agreement. "Lord Elrond said to keep it. The Rohirrim said not to break the seal for a week."

Elrond was soon found and sent word that the jar could be opened and he would be along presently to inspect the contents. Naurdir sliced through the wax with a knife and then pulled out the large cork squinting inside the jar. He sniffed. The grimace on his face was priceless. He glanced at Penny.

"They said it would be good for your stomach, Pen-ii. Though I hardly think you are in any state to have milk just yet. Even if you were, this has gone rancid I fear. Though…" He sniffed once more. "It is not as bad as it should be; their sealing the jar with wax seems to have helped somewhat. It is curious."

"They could not have expected her to drink it straight away and yet now it is ruined!" the ellon protested.

Penny was torn between revulsion and curiosity. "Why would they insist it be left to go bad, Naurdir? It sounds disgusting."

"To let it ferment, I suppose. I have no idea. It was not cheese they were hoping to make by it, that much is clear. I would not suggest you try it, Pen-ii. You are recovering at long last, and that is good to see. I would not want you to become ill again. It is not worth the risk."

"Can I see?"

She held out her hand to Naurdir, who shrugged and walked over to her, handing her the pot. Penny inspected the contents. She sniffed.

It was a bit ripe but not so bad. In fact, now she looked at it and smelt it, it seemed much like very cheesy yoghurt. Yoghurt was terribly good for you, especially for the stomach. In fact the only thing putting her off now was the knowledge it was made from horse's milk. But then Mongolian herdsmen had a near total reliance on horses, including making a fiercely alcoholic brew from horse milk, didn't they? She had seen it in a TV documentary once. Amazing what you could learn at three in morning when you had an attack of insomnia. Anyway, she thought, she had had eight months of getting used to cultures radically different from her own, so what was a little horse milk? Darn sight better than sheep's testicles or hearts stuffed with kidneys or half a dozen other things she had been presented with so far.

She tipped the jar and gingerly stuck a finger inside.

"Pen-ii, no! Lord Elrond will have my hide!" Naurdir looked alarmed.

It was too late: Penny already had her finger in her mouth. It was not quite what she had expected. It was sourer than yoghurt but not a dissimilar texture, though it needed stirring since it had separated a little. A little bit of honey or jam and it would be quite pleasant.

"Let me have that back. I really think we should get rid of this-"

"No, no! I want to eat it. It's good. Well… it needs a little sweetening, perhaps, but-"

"Pen-ii, you cannot have milk just yet and it has been sitting in the heat for all this time. I really do not think-"

"Naurdir, this is good for me. The Rohirrim said so and I agree."

"With all my respect to the Rohirrim, I think we elves know better what is good for-"

"Where I come from we say this stuff is very good. Gives you long life." Naurdir raised a very sceptical eyebrow at that comment. "Makes you healthy. Good for your stomach."

"Indeed?" Elrond's voice cut across before Naudir could respond. He wandered over to where they had been gently bickering. He smiled. "It is so gratifying when you have these brief recollections of your past, Pen-ii. That is wonderful." Penny knew that comment was for Naurdir's benefit. "So what is this thing that the Rohirrim have given us and you seem to find familiar?"

Penny held out the pot to him. "Yoghurt."

Elrond blinked. "Iogget?"

Penny nodded. "Yes, that is what we call it in my tongue and that is what this is. Or at least it is very like it. Not quite the same, perhaps. We make it from cow's milk and it is sweeter, but this is very similar. I am sure it would have the same effect."

"I am not sure your stomach could bear it, Pen-ii," Elrond replied hesitantly, taking the pot from her and peering at the contents. "I have heard of such a thing – this thickened, fermented milk. It is like curds and yet not nearly so sour. It is why I insisted Naurdir keep it since I was undecided as to whether to allow you to have this or not. The Rohirrim do have some wisdom in their methods, after all. I remember Estel telling me of people in the East who eat something like this as part of their everyday diet, and a little south of Dol Amroth also."

"Well, it will not keep much longer," Penny looked at him. "Do you think I could…?" She trailed off.

"Take a very little this evening and see how you fare. Only a very small amount, mind. If it does not make you ill once more, then you may finish it tomorrow."

Thus the following morning Penny had yoghurt for breakfast mixed with a little honey. Rhimlath looked particularly unimpressed.

"Do I want to know?" He raised a suspicious eyebrow at Penny's bowl.

"Not if you're going to be dismissive and rude about it, no."

Rhimlath's second eyebrow joined his first somewhere up near his hairline. "I see."

Penny ignored him.

Penny grew progressively stronger, though she had aches in her joints on occasion – clearly an after-effect of whatever bug it was that she had had – and her recovery was slow. She had lost quite a bit of weight and looked pale and gaunt. She continued with the honey and herbal infusions, but she no longer needed to have the revolting jam concoction (for which she was truly grateful). The other ellith all returned to her tent now she was slowly on the mend. She still travelled on the cart for the time being, though. She was not up to walking for anything more than five minutes at a time and at least in the cart she could lie down if she needed to.

Ten days after leaving Edoras, the weather was much as it always was: a blue sky with the occasional bright white cloud drifting above them. As the morning grew on, the occasional copses they passed through on the road melded one into the other. By early afternoon they were entirely surrounded by trees: they had reached the forest of the Drúadan.

However, within a few hours they had passed out into countryside once more, and it was clear they were not going to pass through the wood, rather that the road swung out to the north and looped round the forest in a great, wide swerve before bending back round to the south and towards Minas Tirith.

It was getting towards dusk. Penny had decided to stretch her legs a little and was walking near the cart, listening to Mireth and Rhimlath chattering away as the trees disappeared on either side of them and the forest sat dark and gloomy to their right. She was so absorbed that she did not look around her at first, and it was a little while, as the conversation ended and someone a little way ahead of them started singing, before she looked up and took note of the change in scenery.

It was only then that she saw, straight ahead of her, a long line of dark mountains that ran along the horizon from north to south. For several minutes she said nothing, merely stared as if unable to process quite what she was looking at.

They seemed so… ordinary.

Penny blinked.

It was just a line of bog-standard mountains. Nothing especially odd about them in the slightest. She felt no fear looking at them: there was no glowering menace about them. Admittedly, there was no filthy black cloud lying over them these days and no great evil menace holed up within, but even so she had expected to sense something.

That said, of course, she wondered if they would not have seemed very menacing indeed even just four months ago.

The weight of history in her mind made up for the ordinary look of them, though. Her imagination quickly supplied what her immediate impression had lacked. She had so many stories racing through her head at that moment, and not just the ones she had arrived in Middle-earth already knowing. Elrond and Erestor had answered her questions about the Battle of the Last Alliance, though it had been clear some of the memories had been a little painful even for them to recount at times. She wondered how they must feel, how the any of them must feel, to be so close to this place once more, even if Sauron was now gone and any threat from it was over at long last.

She finally looked about her. Elves were still singing, many chatting as if nothing untoward had occurred, but Erestor and Glorfindel, riding a little way behind her saw her look, caught her eye and furrowed their brows a little. She stood still and let them catch her up and, when they had done so, she pointed.

"Mordor," she said simply. What else was there to say?

They nodded, their faces slightly grim as she said the name. They continued in silence and Penny noticed she was now not the only one to glance towards the mountains on occasion.

That night, even though darkness had fallen, she could not help staring in the direction of that blighted land.

"It is strange to be so near to it at last, is it not?" Mireth said, following Penny's gaze.

"Yes. I cannot get it out of my head, and yet… when I saw the mountains they seemed so unremarkable."

"But the weight of dark years lies upon them. From this distance, perhaps, but I am sure if you were to get closer…"

Mireth did not finish her sentence. Penny did not doubt there were still dark things living there and, even if they were not, it was an evil place full of malice. She remembered that feeling of pure terror she had sensed from Gandalf, his quiet voice rumbling away in her head, when he had spoken of the threat Sauron posed, of the darkness that had been potentially about to engulf them all. She shuddered involuntarily.

"He is laid low at last," Rhimlath murmured. "All was not in vain, no matter how many were lost."

"You were there?"

Rhimlath nodded, then turned slightly to stare into the night towards Mordor. He was only roused out of his reverie by someone singing a ballad of Gil-galad. Penny could see from several of the faces in the flickering firelight that Rhimlath was not alone in reliving memories of a dark and distant hour. Elrond was staring into the flames of the campfire, Arwen leaning up against him, her head on his shoulder as she listened to the song.

Penny wondered why Elrond had refused to take on the role of High King once Gil-galad had fallen. By his lineage he had had every right to accept it. Had the loss of Gil-galad been too great a blow?

"Times change. Our time has been waning for long years, Lady Pen-ii, I know you know this." Galadriel, walking past, had stopped in front of Penny and was looking at her, her head tilted slightly to one side, a faint smile on her face almost as if she seemed amused. "Lord Elrond was under no obligation. Besides there were so many of us who had already sailed West by then… or died."

Elrond had glanced in their direction at the mention of his name.

"It is nothing, Elrond. Penny is thinking over our history, that is all. She is no different from any of us, perhaps, this night. Many of us that lived through it have never forgotten, but to be once more in the sight of where so much was lost-"

"Yet you won. You had peace for long years afterwards."

"True. But he returned. Even without the Ring he became powerful once more."

"Not to full strength. And he is defeated at last."

"And so our time ends, Pen-ii. We will leave, and Arda will not know our light again."

It was a terribly depressing thought to go to bed on. 'Thanks for that, Galadriel,' Penny thought to herself bitterly as she settled down under her blanket.

It was something she didn't really like to think about too hard. She knew Elrond had made it clear she could stay in Imladris if she so wished, but he would be gone in a little over two years. His sons would stay, of course, but for how long? Forever? Or just a few years? It was all very well her wanting to stay in Imladris, but she may not, in reality, have that option.

And now Minas Tirith, the only other alternative, was literally only round the corner.

That night there had been a distant rumbling from the direction of the forest on and off, almost as if there was a thunder storm up in the nearby White Mountains. The elves had seemed entirely unconcerned by it, though Penny had had no doubt they could all hear it better than she could. Though she had known there was no reason to fear – the Drúedain were friends not foe, and surrounded by this many warrior elves she was well protected even if they were not –it had still given her a slight shiver, an eerie frisson running through her as she listened to the wild men communicating through the wood.

During the next couple of days, though, the forest was silent as they slowly followed the curve of the road inexorably to the east and then the south-east. For the rest of the journey till they reached Minas Tirith, Penny would remain far more aware of that dark line of distant mountains than she was of the far nearer, looming peaks of the White Mountains to her right. The Mountains of Shadow would occasionally be screened from view by a copse or hedges or else as the road sloped gently into a hollow, but even then they were always in her mind's eye.

It was faintly bizarre and entirely her own imagination's doing, but she could not stop it for all that she tried to reason with herself.

Then at last, nearly two weeks after leaving Edoras, they passed by the hill of Amon Dîn and made camp just to the East of it under the eaves of the grey wood.

Orcs had been here. It was obvious even to Penny. Many of the trees had been burnt, several felled so there were only rough-hewn stumps, and the ground was littered with debris – split branches and old meat bones. Much like the edges of Lothlorien, grass and flowers were quickly reclaiming these scars and covering them over, but it was a stark reminder of the vicious battle that had taken place not so very far from here.

Penny was warned not to wander off into the woods.

"I am sure they will have scoured the area for fallen weapons, but it is always possible one small blade was missed. Better you leave it to rot in the dirt than you are cut unwittingly by a poisoned or cursed dagger."

Penny blinked at Celebdor for a moment. She knew he was being perfectly serious, but it was still probably one of the weirdest things anyone had ever said to her.

That night as they sat around the camp fire, there was a sense of impending excitement about them all. It was a contrast to the slightly dark brooding of only a few nights before, but here the singing, while not exactly raucous, was certainly very jolly. There was even impromptu dancing at one point. Penny was dragged to her feet by Lindir who spun her round a few times before she insisted she really had to sit down. He realised it had probably been an unwise move on his part to keep her dancing for so long and helped her back to the edges of the crowd so she could sit next to Eleniel.

"It's ridiculous! I have no energy. The slightest thing tires me!"

"It is to be expected," Eleniel said quietly. "And you managed an entire dance, Pen-ii, which I would hardly call a 'slight thing', even if it was a little rash."

"Lindir hardly gave me a choice, Eleniel."

She laughed. "True."

Of course, tomorrow was Midsummer's Eve and tomorrow they would reach Minas Tirith. The ellyn had washed the previous evening and a great effort had been made to find a suitable spot for the ellyth to bathe this evening. Everyone had got out fresh clothes for the following day – most of them amongst their finest, so as to make the best impression on arrival.

Then the day after that, Arwen would finally meet her destiny and her fate: a wedding, the joining of two great royal lines – so no wonder the elves were in a party mood. Even Elrond joined in, joking and even having a dance or two with his mother-in-law. Penny wondered if he was truly at ease. He had had long years to come to terms with it, but it must still be a terrible moment for him. If it was, though, he was not showing it.

It all went on late into the night. There was quite a bit of wine flowing too. Penny eventually left them to it and fell asleep to the sound of laughter and singing, wondering what Gondor would hold in store for her.

Honey is considered an excellent curative for many illnesses in many cultures. It is particularly prized for its effectiveness on stomach upsets in the Middle East.

Sugar (or honey) and salt (only a small amount of each in a glass of water) is a curative to help the body absorb water more easily – a necessary thing for someone with severe diarrhoea, since it's the dehydration that kills. It is the equivalent of things like 'Dioralyte' or similar products (though not as effective, perhaps, but it does the job). I had remembered this, but if I had not, then would have had my memory jogged by the many who pointed it out in reviews of the last chapter. Thank you all.

Yoghurt, with the live bacteria it contains, is known to be very efficacious, especially in replenishing the bacteria that naturally live in the gut and can be flushed out during a particularly severe attack of stomach flu or food poisoning. (Thanks to MumstheWord for reminding me of that fact).

My thanks, as ever, to all those taking the time to read and those who review, pass on con crit or generally let me know what they think. Much appreciated, guys. Apologies if there's been a slight delay in posting - RL, etc. To make up for it this is a very long chapter (which could have been a darn sight longer, frankly, but I chopped off a lot of what I had and saved it for next time).

Chapter 21 - The Shield of Achilles

What time the others finally came to the tent for some rest, Penny had no idea. They were all up extremely early, however, and a giddy hubbub of chattering and giggling filled the air as everyone either packed or fussed over Arwen.

Arwen could not stop smiling. It was obvious everyone's attention and reminders of what was to come were making her excited and nervous. She had tried three times (and failed) to put her scented oils in a little leather pouch. She sat down on her bedroll, breathing out slowly as if trying to calm herself.

"Just imagine, by tomorrow night you'll be-"

"Yes, and by tomorrow night she'll be-"

There were outraged gasps and hysterical giggling. Arwen flushed a deep red and tried to look appalled.

"Forgive me," muttered the elleth responsible, biting her lips and attempting to look contrite.

She was an old friend of Arwen's from Lothlorien and the two were very close in age. The elleth and Arwen looked at each other for a moment or two before Arwen burst into laughter and her friend joined her, running across the tent to embrace her.

"Oh, you will take to married life very well, I am sure. You adore Estel too much not to."

"Ai, can we please stop talking about it? I am so full of nerves I can hardly keep my wits about me."

"Shall we braid your hair? Mireth should be back any second."

Indeed a few moments later Mireth entered the tent with a posy of wild flowers and some trails of greenery.

"Celebdor shepherded me all the way," she smiled. "He worries far too much."

"Not without reason, Mireth," Arwen replied. "There could very easily be blades somewhere in the long grass that lie hidden from view."

"I know." She held up the flowers. "Will these be enough, do you think?"

"Oh, we only need a few, I think," Eleniel replied.

They set to work: twisting the small, delicate flowers into Arwen's hair as they put just a few thin plaits in it to keep it all back off her face. It was much like an elvish version of a slumber party, Penny decided. Except that it was the morning, they were not wearing pyjamas and it was only one of them that was getting the make-over. There was much gossiping over what Gondor would be like, whether the men would be a patch on any ellon and how Arwen would take to life in Minas Tirith.

Arwen looked astonishing by the time they had finished. She wore a circlet of finely twisted mithril thread dotted with cut diamonds that made it look like she had stars sprinkled across her brow and into her hair. She had a dress that looked white in some lights but was actually a very pale blue, with fine mithril embroidery along the hem, neck and sleeves. It was simple and yet beautifully elegant in a way that only elvish seamstresses were capable of. Mireth had managed to find some little pale white flowers shot with blue that matched it perfectly.

During breakfast, even as the awnings were being dismantled and packed away, two men in Gondorian dress came out of Elrond's tent, bowed to him and then left hurriedly to mount their horses. They set off at a gallop southwards towards Minas Tirith: messengers to let Aragorn know Arwen would arrive later that day.

Not long afterwards, the wedding party set off behind them, though at a far slower pace. Everyone had on fresh clothes, many with circlets on their heads or flowers in their hair, their clothes or their brows studded with gems. These usually 'merely beautiful' elves were now looking indescribably stunning. Bunched all together in a pack like this, it was almost too much to take. Penny focused very hard on the scenery as they travelled because otherwise she was constantly reminded that her pale green dress and travel-worn slippers seemed terribly down-at-heel by comparison.

Penny was not in the cart today. That was loaded up with as much baggage as could be squeezed into the space next to the barrels so as many people as possible could be mounted on horses. Penny was glad to be back in the saddle again and felt strong enough to be able to cope with it, though she did not doubt she would feel exhausted by evening.

It was the first time they had travelled in a coordinated formation (other than scouts ahead or ellyn travelling up and down the line or bringing up the rear for safety reasons).

Leading the party were Elladan and Elrohir, carrying for the first time an unfurled silver banner. It was shot through with so much mithril thread that it gleamed in the bright morning sun and was nearly blinding if you caught sight of it from the wrong angle. Penny was surprised it could bend at all, there was that much metal in it. The brothers took turns throughout the day to carry it.

As everyone milled around, getting themselves ready for the off, some horsed, others loading up bags, Penny stopped beside Elrohir, shielding her eyes from the glare of the banner to study the jewel on his brow. Elladan was wearing a matching one. Elrohir glanced down at her and smiled, clearly wondering what she was staring at.

"Are those the same ones that you both wore on the Pelennor? When you came off the ships?"

Elrohir nodded, his smile broadening.

Elladan, overhearing, leant forward a little on his stallion to see past his brother to Penny, his gaze curious and a little amused.

"Oh, so we do get a passing mention, then?"

"On occasion, Elladan, on occasion." She grinned and wandered up the line to join the others.

Behind the brothers, and leading all those from Imladris, were Erestor and Glorfindel. This group, of course, would include Penny who rode in between Lindir and Eleniel for most of the day.

Next came Galadriel and Celeborn, followed by the Galadhrim with the most noble of their advisors near the front.

Finally, Arwen and Elrond brought up the rear (along with a few outriders, of course, though once past the Rammas Echor they would trot forward and rejoin the rest). Elrond was dressed nearly as splendidly as his daughter, in a tunic of richly brocaded dark blue velvet and a bright circlet on his head. He held a silver and bejewelled sceptre in his hand, and rode the entire day with it in his lap.

This, then, was the elves at their most glorious and splendid. Everything was designed not simply for the inhabitants of Minas Tirith, but for all of Gondor to see that their future queen came from an ancient and noble stock as the wedding party rode through the Pelennor.

Penny thought it was a fantastic piece of PR, one of the best she had ever seen, in fact. Then she scolded herself for being cynical, but still could not help but snigger a little.

As they rode through the countryside towards the Pelennor, the evidence of the northern encampment of orcs and foes became even more apparent than what they had seen near the Grey Wood. Entire small copses had gone – groups of charred stumps being all that remained. They occasionally caught sight of ruins of a house or farm in the distance. Penny just hoped whoever had lived in these places had had the sense to follow the decree and leave to the southlands or Minas Tirith before the rampaging hordes had arrived.

There were also several large mounds of earth, which the grass seemed to be avoiding completely. Near to these were areas of blackened earth that the grass was also struggling to reclaim. They were not near the road but were grouped together in a clump about a mile away from the Rammas Echor. Penny stared at them, wondering what on earth they could be. Lindir leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"I imagine they are burial pits for the enemy, Pen-ii."

She turned to stare at him, at once horrified and shocked.

"What else would you have them do with so many dead?" He almost laughed grimly at her reaction. "They could not leave them to rot, fouling the air with contagion and stink. And you could hardly reasonably expect them to bury them within the confines of the Pelennor. Bad enough that their filthy carcasses will rot into Gondorian earth without them staying within their walls to boot!"

She knew he was right, but it was still chilling to look back at the mounds of earth and now know what was underneath them. The burned areas took on a very sinister tone now as well. But then, they had had umpteen oliphaunt carcasses to dispose of. Burning would be easier than anything else, she supposed.

Even so…

She gave an involuntary shudder and turned away.

The gate on the Pelennor was reached around midday. The Rammas Echor loomed huge on the horizon, stretching for miles on either side, even before they were up close to it. Penny had not really fully appreciated the scale of it before either when reading the books or from the few maps she had seen in Imladris. The wall was a good fourteen foot high, at least.

There was rebuilding going on – whole sections had been demolished, and scaffolding was visible here and there, with labourers going about their business. They all stopped to stare, though, as the elves drew near, many shouting to their comrades and pointing in the wedding party's direction. A few even started wandering towards them, clearly wanting to come and get a better look.

The party halted.

Elladan and Elrohir rode forward, proclaiming loudly who they were (with full lineage and honours, including fighting for Gondor in the fall of Sauron), who rode with them, which elven realms, races and lineages were represented amongst them, and finally declaring the purpose of their request for entry: that Lord Elrond of Imladris had consented to bring his daughter to King Elessar to be his bride and the future Queen of Gondor.

Of course this was all in Westron. Eleniel busily whispered a translation to Penny who, for very obvious reasons, had been in no fit state to improve her Westron since Rohan, despite Erestor's good intentions.

There was a brief silence, the only sounds those of the elvish banner held by Elrohir and the white Gondorian ones on the gate towers flapping slightly in the breeze. Not even the on-lookers were saying anything, all agog with awe as they were at the scene.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped forward from the gate and bowed his head, his hand across his breast by way of greeting. He introduced himself as Ingold, Captain of the Northern Gate. (Penny gave a little gasp and a grin as this was translated to which Lindir raised an eyebrow.) He bade them welcome in the name of the King, then said they were most honoured guests and that their arrival had been expected. "You may pass and go in peace," he added.

The guards did a very good job of trying to look expressionless and professional as the elves rode past. However, given the extraordinary effect this many elves all together had had on the Rohirrim, and that was without them all dressed to the nines as they were today, it was a bit much to expect the Gondorians to behave any differently. Penny had to bite her cheeks at the slightly goggle-eyed expressions and slackness around the jaws that the guards and workmen had about them.

The Pelennor was huge. At their slow walking pace it would take them the afternoon to cross it. The mountains to their right faded into foothills and rolling slopes down to the east where, lost in the distance were the wall, then Osgiliath and the river. Minas Tirith was hidden at first, the road undulating over and round the soft curves of the land. There were trees along the line of the road and dotted here and there. There was also evidence of wanton destruction, though whether deliberate or simply through accident in battle, it was hard to say.

Only an hour or so after a long, leisurely stop for lunch, they came across the first of what had been the massive ring ditches dug by the enemy. The pits had been filled in, but the grass had only grown over them sparsely as yet. The backfill was sunken in places or else heaped high in ridges in others, so they could be clearly made out. From then on the scars of war became more and more evident

There was barely a building left standing in some parts. The enemy had entertained itself with wanton destruction as it had made its way across the fields towards the city and so barns, granaries, oasts for drying out hops and herbs - let alone the occasional, solitary farmhouses and cottages - had nearly all been ravaged by fires. The few that had escaped such attention had invariably been hit by missiles from siege engines during the battle or else had had an oliphaunt career into them.

However, many of these structures were stone built, so it was simply a case of retimbering and rethatching the roofs of those merely burnt out or with a hole in the roof. Work had already started on several, with a few rough-looking wooden shacks hastily assembled to house families currently homeless and which would later be used to house animals. There was little hope of saving the buildings that had taken a direct hit from an irate oliphaunt, though. These had been entirely demolished and were now nothing more than heaps of rubble.

Whole patches of earth had been scorched where once orchards or vineyards had stood. Trees had been cut down, left charred by fire or entirely uprooted. Some of the latter were in the process of being cut up to be cleared or used as building materials or firewood.

It was an indication of how much destruction had been wrought that its marks were still so visible.

Not all was destroyed. Much was still green and still standing. Patches of the Pelennor had remained relatively untouched by long-term destruction, even if it had known the thunder of hooves, the foul invasion of orcish hordes or had soaked up the blood of many. It was clear much work had already been done. Many destroyed trees, hedgerows and vegetation had been cleared, though there was still a lot more to do. As the wedding party slowly made its way across the Pelennor, sometimes a few men and women were to be seen clearing or tilling the soil as best they could, hoping to try and start anew in the autumn.

They were still some miles distant when Penny saw a flash in the distance to the south. It had come from high up on top of a massive outcrop of rock that near enough seemed to be almost a part of the mountain behind it, the last in the chain that rose huge and imposing to their right. If she had not known any better, Penny would have dismissed it as a mere rocky foothill: a last, stony 'gasp' before the mountain chain came to an abrupt halt.

From the murmurs and pointing around her, however, Penny knew the elves could see something else clearly enough, and she also knew what it was without being told. It was not long before she too could just make it out: the Tower of Ecthelion - a barely visible, thin, white line and its roof shining brightly like a lighthouse stark against the dark mountain cliff behind it.

She felt her heart leap to her throat with excitement.

As was to be expected, their passage across the Pelennor attracted much attention, perhaps even more than in Rohan as no doubt the purpose of their journey had preceded them with the messengers or else from the gates. As they neared the city, more and more people lined the way, cheering, shouting greetings, but mostly staring in awe. A few children ran alongside every now and then, though most were quickly stopped by the adults with them, though out of respect rather than fear.

Minas Tirith, once they were near enough for Penny to see it clearly, was astonishing.

The outer walls loomed dark and tall, sheer and polished like glass. For all the blasting they had taken in the siege, the walls had held firm, even if the city behind them had burned. Tier upon tier the city rose, like some glorious wedding cake, until at last the eye fell upon the astonishing pinnacle of white at the top, its banners flapping in the breeze and the roof gleaming gold with the late afternoon sun.

They were still some distance away when they could hear the cheering coming from within the city. Then, as they neared, they could make out people lining the walls and, in a slightly bizarre moment, Penny realised that somewhere up on the upper walls the hobbits would be watching their approach. She found herself squinting upwards as if willing herself to be able to see them, as ridiculously impossible as she knew it would be.

Meanwhile, men, women and children were running out of the city to meet them till the roadsides were two or three people deep. People were singing, shouting, throwing flowers… It was like being part of a parade. Penny was just waiting for the brass band to appear and the ticker-tape to start.

Through it all the elves sat tall and straight. (No one was walking now since, for quite some time now, everyone had been horsed, even if it meant some were riding two to an animal - the 'Elrond PR Machine' would stop at nothing, so it would seem.) They smiled at the crowd warmly enough but also with an air of refined dignity, as if such a welcome was only to be expected, that it was only their due, after all. Penny turned round, trying to see Rhimlath somewhere amongst the Galadhrim, because she knew he would be looking about the most smugly arrogant of them all right about now.

Dusk was drawing in as they finally reached the city gates (or rather 'the gap in the walls where the gates used to be'). The western skies high above the White Mountains still glowed orange, but to the East the first early stars already pricked the sky.

There, ahead of them and in front of the rough wooden barrier that served as a temporary gate (of sorts), was the welcoming committee.

Penny could just make out the hobbits, Pippin looking particularly splendid in his dark guard's uniform. With them were two Dúnedain (as ever dressed in simple dark greys and browns), both of whom seemed vaguely familiar to Penny and she guessed must have been part of the gathering at Imladris before they had headed south. There were three more guards of the Citadel along with Pippin. Legolas and Gimli, smiling broadly, were on either side of Sam and Frodo and there were various other well-dressed men whom Penny assumed to be various Gondorian notables and officials. Gandalf, dressed in white and leaning on his staff, was standing next to a tall, nobly handsome man in sumptuous clothes whom Penny did not recognise immediately.

It was only as the horses slowed, the Gondorian trumpeters blew a loud, long welcome from the walls, and Elladan and Elrohir both dismounted and then bowed to this man that Penny realised it was Aragorn or rather 'King Elessar' in all his glory.

There was no better way to describe him. He was utterly different. He seemed taller, broader in the shoulder, and had a presence about him that exuded confidence, power and something utterly indefinable that had Penny staring at him for a few moments in astonishment and awe.

So this was what the Numenoreans had been like, she found herself musing. This was a king… and then some.

There was a faintly surreal air to the formality of Elladan and Elrohir's greeting, since it was clear both brothers would have liked nothing better than to embrace Aragorn warmly, grinning widely as they were. However, they restrained themselves to a similarly courtly speech as they had given back at the gate entrance to the Pelennor declaring who they all were and why they were come.

A dark-haired man standing next to Aragorn took a step forward, bowed slightly with one arm across his breast and then welcomed them to Gondor on behalf of the King. He spoke in excellent Sindarin. He looked very like his brother, if a little thinner in the jaw, perhaps, and it was clear enough who he was without Penny having to be told. Something about him reminded her nearly as much of a Dunadan, though, and she could see what was meant when it was said the Numenorean line ran nearly true in him where it had not in Boromir.

Then, and only then did the elves begin to dismount, Penny following their lead. The only ones who did not were Elrond and Arwen who rode forward through the gap the others had left for them. With his sons on either side of them both, and with Elladan still holding the silver banner, Elrond dismounted then held out his hand for Arwen as she slid elegantly off her grey mare. Then, keeping her hand in his, he walked towards Aragorn and halted in front of him.

"The hour long awaited is here at last, King Elessar. Many years ago by the counting of men did I name you 'Estel', and that was no light decision on my part. Your destiny is fulfilled, and I am glad to see it done. I now bring you, as is your right, the Sceptre of Annúminas, sceptre of the Lords of Andúnië and then the Kings of Arnor. It is yours to wield now this hour has come."

He held out the silver sceptre he had carried with him all day. Aragorn took it from him in proud silence.

"Thus are the lands of Gondor and Arnor reunited once more under one King, as it was foreseen and foretold would come to pass." Elrond paused for a moment and then, glancing at Arwen, smiled. "I have also brought to you an even richer gift. Little is worth more to an elf than their own children, as is known. Elessar, King of the Reunited Kingdom, Envinyatar, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur and Chieftain of the Dúnedain, I have brought you my daughter, Arwen Undomiel, fairest of ellith, to be your bride. This I promised you I would grant if ever we should live to see such a time. Let it be known that Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, son of Eärendil the Blessed, has kept his word this day."

So saying, Elrond took Arwen's hand and placed it in Aragorn's.

"May Illúvatar bless your union and may Elbereth smile upon it. May Arda know peace at last under your rule."

Aragorn smiled so warmly and tenderly on Arwen as Elrond spoke that he looked fit to burst. Then he slowly inclined his head, not taking his eyes off her once, and kissed the back of her hand.

The crowd cheered loudly – both mortals and elves together – and the trumpets sounded once more from on top of the walls.

As Celeborn, Galadriel, Erestor, Glorfindel and others now made their formal greetings to Aragorn, and others were welcomed by Gandalf and those of the Fellowship who recognised elves they knew, servants rushed forward to help with bags and baggage. Penny felt very shy at having a young boy insisting he take her saddle bag for her.

"I can manage," she was saying in Sindarin, though the boy did not understand her.

"Let him take it," Lindir laughed. "Let him be a part of all this, if he wishes."

"But Lindir-"

The decision was made for her as the boy, no more than twelve or so, literally pulled the thing out of her hands, swung it over his shoulder, and then stood there expectantly, a grin on his face, waiting for them to get moving. He filled the delay with satisfying his curiosity and examining Lindir closely, staring at him nearly unblinkingly and following his every move.

"You would have thought they had never seen an ellon before," Lindir muttered.

"Well, they have only seen three," Penny pointed out. "And to have so many of you all together like this is quite a sight, you have to admit."

"Wrong answer, Pen-ii," Eleniel muttered in her ear. "You are meant to say 'they have never seen as handsome and well-dressed an ellon as you before, Lindir.' Ellyn pride themselves on their appearance, after all."

"Ohhh! But of course. My apologies, Lindir." Penny smirked.

"Though of course what Eleniel really means to say is 'they have never seen an ellon who has such appalling taste in boots and who will insist on wearing old-fashioned braids in his hair'." Rhimlath had wandered up to join them.

Lindir narrowed his eyes at Rhimlath and shook his head, laughing. "There is nothing wrong with my boots, as you well know!"

"Yes, what is wrong with his boots?" Eleniel seemed confused.

"Too long in the toe for Galadhrim tastes, apparently" Lindir replied sourly.

"Perhaps you just have big feet?" Penny suggested.

Rhimlath, Eleniel and the others round them roared with laughter as Lindir spluttered in outrage.

"You see one is also slightly higher on the leg than the other." Rhimlath pointed out once he had recovered himself.

"Nonsense!" Lindir retorted.

Eleniel squinted. "Well… perhaps a little."

Lindir glared at her. "I made them myself," he declared hotly.

"Yes, so you said to me over breakfast," Rhimlath continued blithely. "For all your skill as a song-smith or horseman, you are clearly no cobbler, my friend."

Penny laughed out loud. "Elves not perfect in everything they set their minds to? For shame, Lindir! You are putting the good name of elves into disrepute!"

"Lady Pen-ii!" an excited voice called out to her. Penny turned and saw Sam and Merry waving at her. She smiled and waved back. They could not come over and talk. As important figures within their own right, they were officially part of the welcoming proceedings, and were already being beckoned by Faramir to join the party behind Aragorn and Arwen.

Aragorn and Arwen, still hand in hand, were to lead the walk through the entrance way and up the winding road through the city. Behind them were Elrond, his sons, Galadriel, Celeborn, Gandalf, the other members of the Fellowship, Faramir and other Gondorian and elvish nobles. The rest followed on behind. Everyone was on foot, since most of the horses would be stabled in the lowest circle, with only a few housed in the stable on the sixth circle. Those horses were loaded with baggage to make some of the servants' work a little easier.

Penny was happy they were walking since she wanted to savour every moment of this.

There was a gap just large enough for a cart to pass through in the barrier and that led them into a large square behind it. Straight ahead of them was the base of the huge pinnacle of rock that towered upwards all the way to the seventh circle. Penny craned her neck upwards, impressed at the scale of it even in the quickening dark.

Indeed the dark made it difficult to see very much of the city. Many in the crowd held torches or walked along with them, lighting the way, and nearly all the inhabited houses had their doors and windows open, with light pouring out onto the paved street below, as people watched as they passed by. Even so, all this only lit the immediate vicinity of the road and the walls of the houses, and merely with a flickering, yellow light that gave everything an indistinct, ruddy glow. From what she could see, it was clear this place was like nothing Penny had yet experienced in Middle-earth. There was a part of her that, despite knowing how very different this place would be, felt strangely at home to be once more surrounded by brick and stone and buildings. She was a city girl at heart, after all.

They passed by gates that opened into little courtyards and doors with family names inscribed in the lintels above them. Dogs ran barking up and down the street, small babies were held on shoulders to see the spectacle, and everywhere there was cheering, singing and hallooing to greet the would-be queen and her people.

Penny was looking right and left, peering into every dark corner with a thrill of excitement at being finally on the streets of Minas Tirith. Even in the dark, though, she could see there were many women who stood alone or in groups, some with young children with them and no menfolk beside them. There were also several men on crutches, bandaged or carrying terrible scars. These latter hung back, attempting to stay out of sight, but unable to resist seeing the procession through the city. No matter how much they tried not to be seen, ashamed perhaps of their disfigurements in the sight of such splendid beauty, Penny caught sight of them now and then. Nor was she the only one. Several times she noticed an elf smile or nod to one of these figures, eliciting a faint smile in response.

These were not the only evidences of War to be seen within the city walls. The entire first circle had taken a lot of damage. As they walked north towards the gate to the second circle, many buildings showed charring at the windows, their skeleton roofs of blackened beams just visible in the torch light against the darkening sky. Other houses had collapsed. Some were already under reconstruction, others still piles of rubble, and yet more which had been cleared – bare spaces with broken foundations ready for some other use or for someone to build again. While such damage was also visible on occasion in the second circle, it was rare. It was clear the first circle had taken the brunt of the reach of the enemy's siege engines.

So they snaked back and forth, zig-zagging their way from north to south to north again, passing through the great pinnacle of rock each time, as they made their way up through the city.

At long last they passed through the pinnacle of rock one last time and came to a large opening to their right that led to the seventh level and the Citadel.

There was a brief hiatus at this point, however, as horses were unloaded, baggage sorted and various Gondorian officials, in consultation with the elves, decided who would be housed where. Elrond and his sons, Galadriel, Celeborn, Glorfindel, Erestor and a few others would all have private chambers within the Citadel itself. Arwen, obviously, would be housed in her new rooms and a few of her friends would be staying with her in rooms nearby. The rest would be housed within the seventh or sixth circles.

It was clear the Gondorians were trying to house higher ranking elves in the seventh circle and were a little frustrated by what they saw as elvish lack of cooperation if not outright unconformity in resolving this issue given most of the elves considered themselves on a pretty much even social standing.

Aragorn, Arwen and the rest of the leading notables had headed on up to the Citadel, but Faramir returned and, with a few sharp words, had to insist that if the elves felt there was little distinction between them all, then so be it – let them be housed wherever they saw fit.

The Gondorian official he spoke to bowed his head and muttered an apology, though it was clear he was not terribly happy about it and still thought it all deeply odd. Penny began to realise what Erestor had warned about: that etiquette and social mores counted for a lot in Minas Tirith. Since it clearly meant so much to the Gondorian official to have some kind of nod to social niceties, several ellyn suggested ellith take whatever space was available on the seventh level. This mollified him enough to allow the rest of the billeting to be sorted out without any more complaint.

To make things a little easier, most were to be housed in large groups, taking over several rooms in a building if not the entire thing. Various elves peeled off with servants to see that the right baggages were taken to the right places while the rest of them headed up to the Citadel where they would be fed and watered after their long journey. The boy with Penny's saddle bag disappeared off in the company of various large baggages belonging to several ellith. It was clear Penny was to be housed somewhere in the seventh circle with Mireth and Eleniel.

Two Citadel guards were on duty on either side of the entrance way up to the Citadel, holding a salute, one arm fixed across their chests, as everyone filed past them. The path led up an incline, high walls on either side getting progressively shorter as they climbed, torches in the walls lighting the way.

As Penny finally reached the end of it, she gasped, even though she had known what she would see. The Tower of Ecthelion rose high into the night sky, and in front of it was a paved courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings, in the centre of which tinkled a fountain, the water's music echoing prettily off the walls. Standing beside it, newly planted and its boughs already filled with blossom, was a tall, white sapling. Looming huge in the distance was the great, dark shape of the mountain.

Penny turned to look behind her. There was no moon, but she could just make out the shadowy hint of the lookout on top of the rock pinnacle. Beyond it in the far distance was a long, black mass that blocked out the stars lowest in the horizon: the mountains of Mordor.

She could not quite believe she was here. She felt herself a little breathless, and not from the walk. She tried to look as natural as possible but when she turned round she could see Lindir throw a glance in her direction, as did Elrohir, though he was a little way off.

A slow trickle of servants were coming up from the entrance to the sixth level and disappeared into the dark, taking baggage to various rooms for the higher ranking guests and ellyth.

As the crowd moved off to a large building adjoining the tower, other nobles who had awaited their arrival here in the courtyard, Gondorian and Dúnedain, stepped forward to be introduced to or greeted by Elrond, Galadriel and the others. The Imladris elves greeted the Dúnedain warmly, quickly introducing them to their Galadhrim friends, most of whom had never met them before.

"Pen-ii, you remember Faelon?" Lindir gestured to a tall, thick-set Dúnadan beside him. "He was at Imladris for several days before the Dúnedain rode south."

Penny did not remember him but pretended she did.

"Well met, Faelon. I am glad to see you once more."

The man smiled. "Well met, indeed, Lady Pen-ii. Your Sindarin has improved excellently, I notice. Halbarad would have been most proud."

Penny gave a thin smile. It was the first mention of him here in this place, here where he had died. Not only that, but this man, a friend, perhaps even kin, perhaps one who saw him die for all she knew, was speaking of him in the past tense. She had known he was dead, but that just made it seem so brutally final somehow.

Penny swallowed.

He was watching her, a keen look in his eyes. "You did know that he-?" he started to ask, his voice quiet and gentle.

"Yes, yes," Penny said quickly. "Yes, Aragorn sent word north."

She knew her tone was perhaps a little brusquer than she had intended it, but the Dúnadan smiled kindly as if he understood.

"'King Elessar,' Pen-ii. We must abide by Gondorian formality now, do not forget," Lindir tried to sound bright.

Penny smiled and nodded, forcing herself to respond to his tone. "Of course. It will take some getting used to." She tried a short laugh. She was not really convincing anyone.

They were nearing a set of low, wide steps that led to a huge pair of doors into the hall. Tables and benches were laid out.

Lindir was greeting other Dúnedain as they passed him, grasping some by the arm, others into a brotherly embrace. Faelon still walked along beside Penny.

"Ah, there is one of our number I know you have not yet met, Lady Pen-ii," he suddenly said. "Arvain!"

A young Dúnadan, probably not many years older than Penny herself, was a little way down the hall and talking animatedly to Naurdir and his wife. He turned towards them at Faelon 's shout. He looked quizzically for a moment and then, seeing Lindir with them, broke into a broad smile, muttered something to Naurdir and came towards them.

"Lindir! It is good to see you!"

"And you, Arvain. You are looking well."

"This is Halbarad's youngest son," Faelon explained to Penny. "Arvain, this is Lady Pen-ii."

Penny was speechless. Arvain had turned to her instantly at the mention of her name, so it was clear he knew who she was and was no less surprised and delighted as she at this meeting. His smile turned into a toothy grin.

"Lady Pen-ii! We had hoped you might be here, but we could not have known for sure if you were to travel with Elrond or not. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it and bowing a little before Penny even knew what was happening. She was still staring at him in bewilderment.

"I am… very pleased to meet you, my lord," she mumbled.

They laughed.

"Ah, I think Lindir would tell you many a tale of my youth that would persuade you I was no lord, Lady Pen-ii-"

"Your 'youth'?" Faelon snorted. "You are still a youth, Arvain, to old hands like myself and Lindir here." He clapped Lindir round the shoulders as he spoke, Lindir joining in his laughter.

Arvain ignored them, though it seemed his grin broadened a little. "I thank you for your courtesy, Lady Pen-ii. Your Sindarin is fluent now, I see?"

"So fluent she has moved on to Westron," Lindir grinned.

"Indeed?" Arvain raised an eyebrow, matching Lindir's grin with his own. "Excellent! And how are you finding it, Lady Pen-ii?"

"Oh, well, a little difficult, in truth. I am no linguist, Rhimlath thinks Erestor cannot teach, and squabbling elves are not conducive to learning."

Arvain laughed loudly. "Who is this Rhimlath? I think I would like his company!"

"I have also been a little unwell, so I have learnt nothing since Rohan."

Arvain suddenly looked serious. "Unwell?"

But he got no chance to find out more just then as another voice interrupted them.

"Lady Pen-ii?"

Penny turned and, for a split second, froze.

It was Halbarad.

Author's Notes:

1. The order and formation of the elves in the wedding party as they arrived at Minas Tirith, the silver banner, the silver sceptre, etc are all described in 'Return of The King' at the end of the chapter "The King and the Steward". It also clear from this chapter that the day of the elves arrival was not know to Aragorn, indeed it was only through Gandalf's insistence that it would not be long that he may have had a vague idea. The sign was in finding the tree, and then when the tree came into blossom – only then did Aragorn know the moment would be very soon. Thus I have deliberately not had Prince Imrahil there, though at first I had included him, since he would have had his own people and lands to attend to now Sauron had fallen and the threat from the south was far less (though not completely gone). Without knowing when the marriage would take place, and with things to attend to, he could not reasonably hang around in Minas Tirith on the off-chance. I suspect the same was true for Eomer also – even once the elves had arrived in Rohan, there was still much to be done and he could not leave his people when he would have to be heading for Minas Tirith soon to fetch the body of Theoden anyway. This is my reasoning behind Eomer not being there (something known – JRRT made it clear he was not) nor Prince Imrahil (something unknown – I have surmised that to be the case for the purposes of this fic).

2. Ingold was the Gondorian guard who greeted Mithrandir and Pippin on their way into the Pelennor. He was not specified as captain. I have made him so. Consider him to either have been before the War, or else promoted by Aragorn for not refusing entry to Mithrandir and, one would like to think, holding the gate valiantly against the attack from the north.

3. The distances involved in the Pelennor are huge. The Rammas Echor is 10 leagues in length. At 3 miles to a league, that's 30 miles. The gate to Osgiliath was described as the most distant point in the Rammas Echor to Minas Tirith – 12 miles – but the northern gate is shown on JRRT's maps as only a little bit less, so I have thought of it at 10 miles (possibly a tad more). At a slow walking pace for horses and people that's 2mph, so getting from the gate to Minas Tirith alone would take 5 hours. And that's not including the stop off for lunch. 'The King and the Steward' describes the messengers arriving with news that the host of elves was not yet reached the Pelennor gate, and yet the stars were just appearing in the eastern sky when they finally reached Minas Tirith – so early evening/dusk. The messenger would no doubt have ridden hard and fast to get the King this news, hence their covering the distance in a far shorter time.

4. I have said there is no moon since JRRT's timeline (see the Appendices) makes it clear they arrive at the end of the month. Thus the moon would be either invisible or so thin and low in the sky as to be very difficult to see with the naked eye.

Chapter 22 – "So It Begins"

It was not Halbarad, of course. In the same instant that the thought had come to into her head, her brain had immediately told her not to be so ridiculous.

Halbarad was dead. She knew he was dead. Nothing would change that fact.

Not only that, but as she looked at the face gently smiling down at her, she could see this man was considerably younger than Halbarad had been. He was also less square in the jaw, and while the eyes were grey, they more resembled Arvain's than Halbarad's.

If the man noticed her momentary shock, he did not mention it.

"My name is Halladan. You knew my father, I understand? He told me much about you. It is an honour to meet you."

"I thank you. I am honoured to meet you also," Penny replied a little haltingly. "You… you look very like him, you know."

Halladan gave a sad smile. "I know."

"Well met, Halladan." Lindir held out his hand, and the other grasped his forearm. "Still standing, I see. Good, good."

There was a rueful chuckle from Halladan. "More or less, my friend. More or less."

It was only then Penny noticed he was walking with a stick.

"But we are missing one," Lindir carried on cheerfully. "Where is Hirvell? He should be here to greet us and to meet Lady Pen-ii as well."

He had been looking round, peering into the throng to see if he could spot Hirvell as he spoke, but even as his sentence ended, he sensed Faelon, Halladan and Arvain stiffen slightly. He turned back towards them, a look of horror on his face as he guessed what their reaction must mean.

Halladan's jaw had tightened, his gaze falling to the floor as Lindir had mentioned his brother's name. Arvain looked vaguely embarrassed.

It was Faelon who spoke.

"He fell in front of the Black Gates, Lindir. He is with his parents now and in peace."

Lindir looked appalled. "No! No, this cannot be! Hirvell!" He gasped heavily, clearly shocked and grieved by this news. "We had no word… We did not know… Halladan, Arvain, you must forgive me, I had no idea."

"You were not to know," Arvain replied, forcing a smile. "It is a bitter blow, it is true. Perhaps all the harder coming after the loss of Father as well. But he died well, Lindir. Father would have been proud, though I am glad he did not live to see it."

Penny noticed Halladan said nothing but seemed to be staring fixedly at a point somewhere away to his left, almost as if he could not hear the conversation anymore and his attention were drawn elsewhere.

"Come, let us eat. We can mull over all that we have lost and won better without our stomachs rumbling." Faelon was already leading the way to the nearest table.

Penny felt numb.

First Halbarad and now… what was his name? Hirvell, was it? She had never met him, and yet she felt desperately upset by this news.

As she sat, still silent and wondering at the shock she felt for this unknown son of Halbarad's, she glanced up and found Halladan looking at her.

"I… I am sorry for your loss," she said quietly, not sure what was the appropriate thing to say in such a situation. Halladan inclined his head by way of thanks.

Penny felt overwhelmed by the knowledge that not only was Halbarad not here, but only two of his sons had survived him, and one of those was injured, though how badly she did not know.

In fact, as a simple supper of soup, cheese, and bread was presented to them, Penny felt her thoughts crowding in on her. The destruction on the Pelennor, in the city, the personal loss – the scarred men hiding in the shadows in the lower circles, Hirvell dead, the piled heaps of bodies in those mass pits outside the walls…

What horrors had these men seen? What nightmares must haunt their dreams even now?

Not for the first time she felt unwanted thoughts crawl into her head however much she tried to block them out.

How had he died? What had happened to him? Had it been brutal? Painful? Horrific? All three? Had Hirvell's death been any less horrendous? Arvain had said he had 'died well,' but what did that mean? Was any death by sword or hammer or axe glorious?

So many had died, so many had been injured, so much destroyed and lost, and she had known, she had known it would all happen. She had sat by and let it happen. Yes, Sauron had fallen, but at what cost? Though she did not doubt all those involved would willingly have paid an even higher price had it been necessary, was there really nothing she could have done?

It was a pointless question. A futile, hollow, ridiculous question, and she knew the answer to it, but that did not stop her brain from blind-siding her with it every now and then when she least expected it.

She glanced up to the top table where Mithrandir was seated and silently willed him to look up in her direction. Would he even remember her, she wondered. Then she scolded herself. Yes, he was changed when he returned as 'Gandalf the White,' removed in some ways from his former life, but he would not have forgotten her.

Now she was feeling this rush of emotion, she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that it had often been Halbarad who had been the one to comfort her in Imladris: Halbarad and Gandalf between them. Now Halbarad was gone, and Gandalf…? She glanced in his direction once more. Gandalf was laughing heartily at something Glorfindel had said to him, too busy perhaps to even realise she was here among them as yet, though no doubt he would spot her at some point. She would still like to talk to him, though. Now she was here in Minas Tirith, at possibly her final destination, and with so many questions and worries still buzzing about inside her head…

Halladan was watching her.

So this was the famous Lady Pen-ii, was it? This was the strange woman he had heard so much about from his father as they had travelled south, the woman he had wanted to meet for all these months, the woman who had single-handedly managed to enrage and endear herself to his father in a way Halladan had found astonishing, and now here she was sitting opposite him.

She was not quite what he had expected. The change his father had seen begin to show itself in her after her spending time in Imladris had clearly continued apace after he had left her for that last time. There seemed no hint of the mad, wild woman he had described her to be when he had first met her, or not that Halladan could see.

She was a little taller than Halladan had thought she would be, but then his father had always been terribly dismissive of anyone under five foot ten, and while not as tall as a woman of the Dunedain, she was still taller than some mortal women could be. She was also not as plain as he had assumed her to be from his father's description. Halbarad had not said she was ugly, it was true, but then, Halladan berated himself, he should have remembered that in his father's eyes, no woman had any beauty whatsoever compared to Halladan's mother. 'Lady Pen-ii' was not a pig-faced orc, Halladan now realised, unlike some women he had met in his time. She did indeed 'clean up nicely enough,' as his father had put it. She had caught some colour to her skin as she had travelled, the elvish dress suited her, and she looked fit and well…

Or did she?

As he studied her more closely, he could see that underneath the slightly burnished skin tone there was a pallor that hinted at her recent illness. Her face showed it could be a little fuller than it was at present. Halladan had heard the tail end of Arvain's and Penny's conversation as he had joined them, so he knew she had been unwell, and that its marks were still upon her spoke towards its seriousness. He wondered at the concern he felt for her as this realisation sank home, given he had not yet known her for even an hour. But then, in some ways he felt he had known her for months, even if he had not met her before tonight.

He had noticed her reaction to the news of Hirvell's death, how her eyes had grown moist and she had immediately become quiet and introspective, and it had touched him. He could guess some of her current thoughts near enough, especially when he followed her gaze and realised who she was looking at.

He made a note to make sure Mithrandir realised she was among the company from Imladris (though he did not doubt he already knew) and that she possibly wanted to talk to him. Aragorn would want to know as well.

Penny suddenly realised Halladan was looking at her once again, his gaze thoughtfully curious. She flushed and concentrated on trying to eat something, though in truth she had completely lost her appetite.

Now the initial excitement of their arrival was over, the exhaustion of her first long day in the saddle after so long was hitting her. She could have happily fallen asleep right where she was sitting.

"Is anything amiss, Lady Pen-ii? Can I fetch you anything?"

"What? No, I thank you. I am quite well, Lord Halladan."

"Are you sure, Pen-ii? You look tired."

"I am, Lindir. It has been a long day."

"And the first for you not riding in the cart, of course. Perhaps you would prefer to go to your lodging?"

Penny nodded. "Perhaps." She had barely touched her food.

"Cart?" Arvain looked concerned. "Yes, you said you had been ill, Lady Pen-ii. But so ill you could not ride?"

Halladan seemed to share his brother's concern.

"It was nothing. I am quite recovered."

Lindir raised an eyebrow. "It was not 'nothing', and while you are certainly on the mend you are not back to full strength, Pen-ii. You know perfectly well how seriously ill you were."

Penny felt slightly embarrassed having these strangers know she had been so very ill. She did not want to be made a fuss of or have it seem like she was playing for sympathy.

"I am fine, Lindir! Do not fuss! You are like an old mother hen at times!"

Arvain choked on his soup and Faelon laughed out loud. Halladan looked both astonished and amused.

"You see how she talks to us?" Lindir waved his hand at her. "It is disgraceful, really." He grinned.

"Oh, I would say it merely shows she has settled into Imladris life very well," Faelon replied. "It would seem Lady Pen-ii has learnt how to put you in your place easily enough, and that is no bad thing, after all."

"Yes, well, there is that, I suppose." Lindir laughed.

"Do you know where you are housed, Lady Pen-ii?" Halladan asked, trying to bring the conversation back to her. "Do you wish me to find out for you?"

"No, I thank you, Lord Halladan-"

"Please," he interrupted, smiling. "Call me Halladan."

"I thank you, Halladan, but do not trouble yourself. I know I am to be housed with Mireth and Eleniel. I am sure we can find it together ourselves."

"Ah, yes, Mireth and Celebdor are betrothed at last, we hear," Arvain interrupted. "About time, I say. They have been mooning about over each other for as long as I have been alive, if not longer."

While Lindir pointed out that they had probably been 'mooning about over each other' since Halbarad had been a boy, Halladan asked if Penny was quite sure she did not need assistance and Penny reassured him. She had already spotted Eleniel across the room and had caught her eye. Eleniel came over.

"Shall we go and find our lodgings? Celebdor explained to Mireth where they were. He took our baggage there. It sounds easy enough to find."

So Penny made her excuses, glad to be able to get away from them all for a while, if she were honest. She did not leave the great hall without a final glance up towards Elrond, Gandalf, Erestor, and the rest, but they were all too busy to notice her or look her way.

As she made her way across the courtyard, past the fountain and towards her lodging, Mireth and Eleniel chattered excitedly beside her. Penny was too tired and too caught up in her thoughts to say much.

Meanwhile, however, her ears were burning.

"And when you say 'seriously ill', Lindir, you mean…?"

"I mean what you think I might mean, Arvain. Were it not for the fortunate fact that she travelled with skilled healers, and one as skilled as Elrond, well, then…" He left the sentence unfinished. "She was very nearly left in Rohan," he continued. "By rights she was too sick to travel."

"Elbereth!" murmured Halladan, exchanging an alarmed glance with his brother.

They had all seen the way Eleniel had insisted Penny take her arm and, while Penny had protested a little at first, and made a show of not putting any weight on her friend while still near them, she had been using all the support Eleniel could give her by the time she reached the doors. Halladan had also noticed her brief, worried glance to the top table.

A small building on the southern side of the courtyard (down one alley, a left turn, down a second alley and then through the third door on the right) was where Penny had been billeted. The entire three-story house was to be shared by ellith, twelve to a floor. Penny, Mireth and Eleniel were sharing one of the two suites of three rooms on the first floor with three other ellyth. Curtains covered the doorways that led from the central room to the two rooms on either side. Penny suspected that normally this central room would be a place for recreation and eating, but clearly space was limited and two extra cots had been placed there. No doubt the same had been done in every similar set of rooms elsewhere. Each room had a jug of water and a bowl, and a bed pan under each bed.

Each room also had a large window overlooking the wall and out towards the Emyn Arnen in the south-east. Not much could be seen other than a starlit sky and the dark, shadowy mass of the landscape below it.

Mireth and Penny shared one end room. A wooden screen could unfold and be stood between the two beds to provide some privacy (so they could use the bed pans with some level of discretion in the night if they needed to, for example). Penny was too tired to try and discover where the latrines might be and just wanted to go to bed. She insisted the others return to the meal.

"We need an early night too, you know," Mireth laughed.

"I have to go and help Arwen get ready early tomorrow morning," Eleniel reminded Penny. "That dress has been a long time in the making, and I need to make sure she looks her best in it."

Arwen could wear an old potato sack and still look stunning as far as Penny was concerned, but she was not about to argue the point. She shrugged, readied herself for bed and let them stay or leave as they pleased.

She was asleep almost as soon as her head hid the pillow.

So, Penny missed the few short speeches, the story-telling and the ballads, though it was not a long night by any means. Given it would be a long day of feasting and celebration tomorrow, most made their way to their lodgings early.

The hobbits were disappointed to have missed Penny, and also concerned to hear she had been unwell.

"She is fine, Ban, do not worry. You will see her tomorrow, and I am sure she will want to talk more about you and your heroics than her recent minor troubles."

Sam flushed a little at Celebdor's words and muttered something about people making a fuss that he was not used to getting and he was just an ordinary hobbit who had done what anyone else would have done in the circumstances. When Celebdor gave him a look that told him he was not buying it, Sam flushed an even deeper red and wandered off to find Frodo.

Later that evening, a small group were seated in a comfortable room that formed part of the royal suites. It was a warm night, so there was no need for a fire and the shutters were flung back to get some air. The room was lit with candles and by the starlight through the window. The drapes were heavy and fine, the furniture solid and ornately carved, the floor intricately inlaid marble, but there was a sense that this room was infrequently used, indeed had not been used for many years until recently.

"So you decided to bring Lady Pen-ii with you, I notice?" Gandalf was puffing on his pipe, seated near the fireplace.

"Well, as much as she is welcome to stay at Imladris, I thought it prudent to give her this opportunity to move to Minas Tirith should she desire it. I wanted to discuss with you whether perhaps you felt she might be better suited here among Gondorians than the people of the North. Admittedly, I think elvish company suits her best, but I am sure she misses mortal interaction."

"She would be most welcome, but she will only have a short time here to make such a decision," Aragorn pointed out.

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed.

"We have the journey back to Rohan in which it will still not be too late for her to make a decision if she has not already done so before then. It will be a little over a month all told that she has to consider the matter. Besides, she has had all this time as we travelled south to think about it. We discussed it a little before we left."

"Ah."

"What do you mean 'ah'?"

"Nothing, Elrond, only that I am surprised that you-"

"She brought it up herself, Mithrandir," Erestor interjected. "She was not very happy about it either from what we could sense."

"Ah."

"Annoyed you had made decisions about her future without talking to her first, I would imagine, from what I remember of her personality."

"I had not made a decision, Estel."

"I realise. I did not say she was correct in either her assumption or her reaction."

Elrond inclined his head as if to say 'point taken'.

"She needs your advice, Mithrandir."

Celeborn spoke very softly, and all turned to him.

"Oh?"

"When we spoke to her in Lothlorien, Galadriel could sense it very clearly from her, indeed could surmise her questions." He glanced up and looked Mithrandir straight in the eye. "You of all of us, Mithrandir, might have the answers for her. You alone. If not you, then no one in Arda."

"Ah."

There was snort of mild irritation from Elrond. "Give Mithrandir some more wine, Estel. It may help to loosen his tongue somewhat."

Gandalf chuckled. "Now, now, Elrond, I cannot turn up at the marriage of your beautiful daughter with a sore head, can I?"

"There is much uncertainty about her still." Glorfindel spoke at last. "We all can sense it, and while she was ill it was particularly strong at times, was it not?" He looked about him, expecting one of the others to confirm this.

Elrond nodded. "At moments when she let down her guard, yes, it was. There was the fear of the illness when she was more alert, but at other times, yes, it was very clear her sense of confusion and turmoil is still there. She covers it well, indeed I think much of the time she manages to forget about it entirely."

"Except when it is brought to the surface," Mithrandir muttered.

The others glanced at him.

"Halladan spoke to me earlier. He felt sure she had been hoping to speak to me tonight. She was glancing towards our table at the evening meal and seemed… How did he put it? 'Out of sorts,' that was it. 'Out of sorts and troubled' was how he described her. And he has a sharp insight, that one, much like his father before him. She had just learned of Hirvell's death, remarked how like his father Halladan looks, and coming immediately on the heels of riding through the Pelennor and seeing the evidence of destruction in the city… In addition, she will have been tired and more emotional as a consequence of her day's travel, so it was perhaps to be expected."

"She knew much of what took place here," Elrond said quietly. "I was astonished at the detail when she spoke to me at last. Of course, it has yet to be confirmed, though your letters told me much of what she had said was true."

"So very strange," Aragorn said to no one in particular after a brief silence, shaking his head as he did so.

"Is it? Is it so very different from the gift of foreknowledge that everyone in this room possesses to some degree or another?"

"Mithrandir, none of us, not if we had all had some foreknowledge of different elements of this War and combined our thoughts, could have known all that she knew," Erestor pointed out. "If all of it was true, of course."

"You doubt it?"

"Not at all. Yet there is always the possibility she forgot or misremembered parts, or some elements had been lost in translation or changed over the years by inaccurate scribes. Anything is possible, Mithrandir."

"You are quite right. Of course."

"There is more, Mithrandir."

Mithrandir said nothing, but he glanced at Elrond sharply.

"She will not tell me, nor have I pressed her since we left Imladris, but I know there is yet more that she will not speak of."

"Is there, now?" Gandalf murmured quietly, chewing thoughtfully on his pipe.

He mulled over this piece of unexpected news as another short silence fell, each one wondering what more there could be when so much had already passed in recent times.

"Why is she here, Mithrandir, do you know? How did she get here?"

"Ah, now, Aragorn, even I, a humble wizard, cannot know everything."

There was gentle laughter at his words.

"What troubles her most are questions such as those," Celeborn pointed out. "It is clear she feels at home here, both to us as much as to herself, though how that might be or what it might mean I have no true insight. Galadriel told her as much, but I am not sure she understood or believed her. She lives in fear of losing this, of losing what she has gained. She could disappear as suddenly as she arrived, and that terrifies her. I know what I sense from her, and I can guess at the meaning, but that is all it would be – a guess. Without certainty she will never rid herself of her anxiety."

Gandalf nodded, taking a contemplative suck on his pipe, but saying nothing.

"There is the guilt, of course, we must not forget that," Erestor added.

Elrond gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, indeed. I do not doubt that will come to the fore now she is here, where so many have fallen."

"She could have done nothing to prevent it," Aragorn replied. "It would have been wrong of her to try." He spoke with complete conviction.

"True, yet mortal reasoning and nature are ever flawed, my dear friend, as you well know," Gandalf rumbled into his beard. "Yes, I think Erestor and Elrond have made an excellent point. Hmm. Well, nothing can be done till after tomorrow, perhaps not for several days if the festivities are as splendid as I suspect they will be. I shall speak to her when I am able to. As for her staying here in Minas Tirith, that may be an excellent suggestion. We shall have to wait and see."

"After what happened in Rohan, I am not so sure." Glorfindel muttered into his goblet of wine.

"Ah, now, that is easily remedied with more Westron lessons," Erestor retorted.

Glorfindel raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Aragorn looked from one to the other, the hint of a smile on his face. "Why? What happened in Rohan?"

"I am not sure this is the time or the place-" Elrond interrupted hurriedly. His obvious discomfort on Penny's behalf only made Aragorn's smile all the broader.

"Well, she got horribly drunk for a start," Glorfindel began.

At the end of his tale, starting with the drunken singing and ending with the coup de grace of the Westron mistake, Aragorn was laughing loudly and Gandalf's eyes were twinkling below his bushy eyebrows.

"It is hardly a laughing matter, Estel. If Lindir or Rhimlath had not been there-"

"But they were there, Elrond, and I hardly think anyone else in the vicinity would have let her wander off into the night with an enthusiastic young Rohirrim, either. Ai, poor Pen-ii! I take it you have not told her of what occurred? She would be deeply ashamed and embarrassed if she knew." He glanced at the expressions of 'Who do you think you are talking to? Do we look stupid?' that met his gaze and held up his hands with a muttered apology, chuckling.

The next morning was, indeed, an early one. The city was buzzing with excitement. Eleniel stuck her head through the curtain to wake Penny and stir Mireth from her elvish rest. She was already fully dressed, but in an ordinary gown (for which read 'sumptuous by most standards').

"I will be back later to dress myself for the ceremony. I need to go and help Arwen, check no stitching has come undone, or jewels lost or embroidery damaged en route."

"I thought you checked it last night?"

Eleniel had indeed gone to the about-to-be-queen's royal apartments after Penny had slept to lay out the dress and check it over.

"Yes, but I may have missed something in the starlight. The more time I have now, the better." She smiled. "Shall I bring you some breakfast? We help ourselves this morning."

"We can go," Mireth smiled. "You go and help Arwen. Help her calm her nerves."

"Very well. Oh, and we have been told to leave the bedpans, if used. Servants will clear them."

"What?" Penny was appalled.

"Well, that was my reaction too, Pen-ii. We are not used to having others wait on us, but if that is their custom then we may offend if we do not accede to it."

Penny fumed. She was damned if she was going to subject someone else to that. It had been bad enough Mireth or Eleniel doing it when she had been utterly incapable, but a complete stranger when Penny was more than able to deal with it herself? No bloody way!

Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a glance, seeing the determined expression on Penny's face.

"Well, in that case, in future I will use the latrines and cross my legs in the night if I have to," muttered Penny.

The other two laughed. Eleniel then left and Mireth and Penny got up, washed and started to dress. Penny threw open the shutters and looked out.

The view was amazing. Laid out below was layer after layer of roofs and walls. She could make out people wandering to and fro on roads and alleyways, children playing in gutters, women hanging out washing in backyards or on balconies, men chatting to each other in the street, boys coming back home with fresh baked bread for breakfast, dogs barking and chasing their tails. It was early, but there was a level of hubbub that showed today was no ordinary day. Today, Minas Tirith would get its Queen.

Beyond was the green of the southern Pelennor, though even from this distance there was the odd patch of black burning, a tumbled down ruined farmhouse or two and areas of destroyed trees. The wall to the south was only two or three miles distant and, from this height, was just visible in the bright, morning sun as a faint grey line. Then beyond, hidden from view, was the river, and then the low hills of the Emyn Arnen.

Once dressed, Mireth and Penny headed off downstairs, leaving their three other roommates chattering and giggling over the upcoming festivities.

Mireth first of all showed Penny the nearest latrines, housed in a small, low building at the far end of the street. There were six cubicles, and a little foyer with a sink, above which was a pipe with a tap in it. The pipe apparently connected through the roof to a tank that collected rain water. Jugs could be filled and hands washed.

It was surprisingly civilised.

The latrines were not the most private of places – the toilets themselves consisted of one long stone bench that ran the length of the small building, with wooden seats around the holes and stone built dividers separating each one to form a cubicle. Each cubicle had a thin wooden door with a latch and a small window cut into the outer wall to allow in some light once the door was shut. It was not dissimilar to a modern public lavatory, except there was no flush (you used the jug) and the toilets all opened out on to the same sewer pipe that ran underneath them, filled with running water, the sound of which tinkled upwards to you as you made to sit down. The smell of it wafted up to you as well, though, and unless you sat on the western-most latrine you had all your neighbours' waste running underneath you (since the sewer ran west to east), which was not a pleasant thought, but you couldn't have everything, perhaps.

All told, it was not as private or fragrant as latrines in Lothlorien or Imladris, but it was certainly a darn sight better than anything Mireth or Penny could have imagined or hoped for.

The buttery was in a sort of basement area of the Citadel, below the Tower. Various people were already up and about and heading in that direction, chatting amiably, or coming from it armed with baskets or little sacks.

Soon Mireth and Penny were back in their chambers, sharing bread, butter, jam, fruit and milk with the others.

Two women, clearly servants, appeared asking if people wanted to bathe. There was a room on the ground floor with a tiled floor that sloped to a hole in one corner where someone could have a stand-up wash, apparently. The servants offered to wash them personally, but the ellith and Penny politely declined. Thus hot water was brought, cold added to it and the house had washes, two at a time, in the small 'bathroom' downstairs. No one washed their hair, though, since there was not enough time to get it dry.

If, while this was happening and the servants cleaned and tidied the rooms, they wondered why one bedpan was not simply clean as if unused, but rather clean and still wet from having been washed out, they said nothing.

It was late morning when at last they were ready. Eleniel had returned some time before to change and prepare herself. She had asked if they could help with her hair first since she had to return to Arwen.

"I think she could do with as many of us outnumbering the Gondorian ladies-in-waiting as possible, truth be told. They are into everything and while very well-meaning, have no clue about how to help her. They are too busy admiring her dress to help calm her down."

She had then rushed off again, a gem-studded circlet on her brow, and wearing a deep green dress richly embroidered with leaves and tendrils all over the skirt that Penny did not doubt would show the Gondorian women that Arwen's dress, while magnificent, was perhaps only to be expected given Elvish craftsmanship.

Mireth had offered a simple circlet of mithril for Penny to wear but she had felt shy to accept and also pointed out that it might perhaps not suit the white and gold detailing on her red dress. One of the other ellith produced what was actually a pearl cloak clasp – four pearls clustered in a gold setting – that she insisted Penny wear in her hair.

Penny tried to protest but was outnumbered four to one. How they got it to stay there she had no idea, and she was terrified it would drop out and she would lose it. She shook her head gently and realised it was staying firm. Millennia of dressing hair apparently taught you a thing or two, she thought wryly.

There was a knock at the door. An elleth of Lothlorien stuck her head round it to say a group of ellyn were downstairs at the outside door to escort them to the hall, since the crowds were beginning to gather and things were due to start soon.

With the excitement building in her stomach, one last check that her hair was in place and off her face, the pearl clasp had not come loose and that her dress was fully fastened, Penny made her way down with the ellith and stepped out into the lane.

She could not quite believe she was on her way to witness THE wedding of the Age.

Author's Notes:

Now before people wonder where on earth the idea for the latrines and shower/bathroom came from and start ranting, they are based on examples found in the Babylonian, Minoan and Roman cultures (all of which are slightly different, but share many similarities). Indeed it was after watching a documentary on Minoan culture and what they found at Knossos (including a flushing loo and a shower), that I realised (with some regret, I will confess, since you know how I love to torment poor Penny) life at Minas Tirith would not be quite so bad for Penny as I had at first envisaged.

My apologies for another long chapter. So much to say and not enough space to say it in

Chapter 23 - THE Wedding of The Age

If Penny had thought the elves had looked impressive the day before, then it was nothing to how they looked today. The Gondorians would have looked splendid enough all on their own, but frankly the elves had them beat hands down. The courtyard was slowly filling with people, all milling about in an excited manner in front of the low, broad steps up to the Great Hall. As Penny looked about her, she could barely take in all the jewellery, the fine brocade on nearly every tunic in sight, the sumptuous embroidery on skirts and sleeves, the gemstones in hair or on brows.

But then you did not get a wedding of the Age every day of the week, so it was only to be expected.

Everyone was very kind and complimented her on her dress and how she looked, even though she paled in comparison with any elleth, and (as far as she was concerned) any lady of Gondor to boot. Lindir looked magnificent in a tunic of forest green, as did Celebdor in a dark blue one that made his grey eyes seem stormily dark. When he and Mireth had spotted each other in the crowd even Penny sensed the frisson between them – nothing like getting dressed up to the nines to remind the one you love just why they fell for you in the first place.

Penny was busily introduced to various Dúnedain and Gondorian lords by Lindir and Celebdor. She caught sight of Arvain at one point, dressed in a tunic of royal blue that was of a similar style to those worn by the Gondorians, so she assumed he had had it made here in Minas Tirith especially for the occasion. He grinned and waved at her, and she smiled back warmly. He tapped the shoulder of the man standing with him, whose back was facing Penny. She realised it was Halladan as he turned his head and Arvain said something to him, pointing at Penny as he did so, but she did not get a chance to see Halladan turn and look in her direction as at that same moment she was accosted by three hobbits.

She had to do a double take on seeing Sam at first, since she hardly recognised him for a moment. He was decked out in the most splendid gilded chainmail tunic and had a silver circlet round his head. He wore a jewelled belt round his hips with a finely wrought dagger in its scabbard hanging from it that she knew immediately would be the Arnorian one from the barrow.

Merry and Pippin looked very fine in their Rohirric and Gondorian uniforms, but even they agreed with Penny’s comment (as translated by Lindir) that Sam looked magnificent. Sam shuffled awkwardly a little but smiled with pride and gratitude in spite of his embarrassment.

Penny asked after Frodo. The hobbits, after glancing round, quickly spotted him, deep in conversation with a group of Gondorian nobles. Pippin called his name and Frodo, seeing Penny, excused himself and came over to them. He looked slightly relieved to escape the conversation.

He was wearing the mithril tunic and also had a silver band round his head similar to Sam’s. He and Sam looked like a matching pair of princelings.

He was a lot thinner than Penny remembered him. He seemed brightly cheerful in his greeting, but there was a slightly haunted look to his eyes. He had been through a horrific experience since she had last seen him and she knew he would never wholly recover. He caught her glance at his right hand and the missing middle finger. They looked at each other for a moment, Penny clearly showing her sympathy in her furrowed brows and sad smile, and Frodo looking a little awkward but returning her smile nonetheless.

“You are all heroes,” she said quietly. “I am honoured to know you.”

Frodo said nothing, though the hobbits had looked to him to explain her words, so Lindir translated and added his own agreement to it.

“Oh, hush, now,” Sam muttered. “I won’t say I am not pleased as punch to be put into song, but I don’t feel as I deserve it any. Not like all these big folks as fought in battles and died and became kings and the like. If anyone’s a hero it’s Master Maura here, that’s for certain, though he won’t thank me for saying so.”

“Oh, now, Ban, if it were not for you I-” began Frodo, though he got not further than that as Pippin interrupted him.

“We fought in battle too, Ban, do not forget!” Pippin indicated himself and Merry.

“Oh, I know, and poor Kali here faced a terror that I would never have had the stomach to do.”

“I got flattened by a troll!” Pippin beamed at Penny. “And Ban here faced orcs and a giant spider and-“

“Yes, thank you, Raz!” Frodo laughed quietly, shaking his head gently. “Could we perhaps discuss this a little later?”

“I would like to hear all about your adventures,” Penny replied. She glanced at Frodo. “Well, the things you feel up to talking about, anyway.”

“Oh, we’re quite used to talking about quite a bit of it already,” Merry responded. “After all, everyone wants to hear about it. Or certainly about how Maura the Nine-Fingered saved all of Arda, anyway.” He grinned at his cousin who looked a little uncomfortable but smiled genially enough.

There was no time right now, obviously. Even as Merry spoke, other elves were coming over to greet or meet them, many speaking with great reverence to Frodo in particular, but also Sam. It was clear Sam was thrilled by this nearly as much as he was embarrassed by it: his cheeks were flushed but he was also unable to stop a wide grin from plastering itself all over his face.

Eventually, servants started ushering people up the steps and into the hall. There was clearly meant to be some sort of seating arrangement, since the highest officials were being spoken to first so they would take their places nearest the top table. This included Frodo and Sam of course, with Merry and Pippin not far behind them. All four followed Erestor and Glorfindel up the steps and into the Hall.

Legolas and Gimli, also amongst these ‘higher officials’ as members of the now infamous “Nine Walkers,” made their way past Lindir and Penny and stopped momentarily to greet them both.

Legolas gave Penny quite an intense, knowing look as he lifted his head from kissing her hand. She also noted he and Lindir briefly glanced at each other and immediately guessed that Legolas now knew Lindir was in on her secret. She suddenly remembered what she had asked of him and Aragorn the day they had left Imladris. She opened her mouth to ask Legolas if he could forgive her, but he was already moving off, chattering to Gimli and a very tall Dúnadan Penny did not know.

Soon enough she was following afterwards. Penny was surprised to find she was seated next to Lindir, knowing his position in Imladris, but it did also seem that beyond the initial few groups, much of the ‘seating arrangement’ had descended into a free-for-all. Elvish refusal to have much of a class system was yet again playing havoc with the Gondorian way of doing things. Penny chuckled to herself as she spotted the same man who had got so frustrated over the billeting the night before, throw his hands up in resignation beside the door and stay various servants who were busily running after people and trying to redirect them to tables lower down the hall. He had clearly given it all up as a hopeless exercise.

Arvain and Halladan were seated near her, but several places down. She glanced up, caught Halladan’s eye, and he smiled warmly at her and inclined his head by way of greeting. She nodded and smiled in return, pleased to be able to acknowledge his presence at last. The dark grey-green tunic suited him very well, she noted.

When Arwen made her entrance, heralded by a fanfare, preceded by her grandparents, father and brothers, and followed by ellith and ladies-in-waiting, there was a brief moment of stunned silence. It was followed by intense chatter, pointing, staring and even smatters of applause in some quarters (and not just for the dress, as astonishing as it was).

Even Penny was gobsmacked.

She wondered how many of those ellyn whom Arwen’s friends had teased her about so often, who had thrown themselves at Arwen’s feet for all those centuries, were here today. Quite a few, very probably, and if they were seething with jealousy or kicking themselves right now she would not have blamed them in the least. She also wondered if she was the only one in that moment to wonder how a mortal, even one as extraordinary, heroic and handsome as Aragorn, had landed an elleth as beautiful as this.

However when, shortly afterwards, Aragorn strode into the Hall with Mithrandir by his side, his Steward Faramir, Faelon and another Dúnadan following, and trumpets making the roof shake, Penny wondered no longer. He was dressed entirely in silver and white, his crown on his head, jewels sparkling at his throat, the Elessar stone on his shoulder the only colour about him. He was beautiful, tall and noble, with an innate aura of power and strength, so there was no mistaking his Numenorean ancestry, let alone his elvish upbringing at the hands of Lord Elrond. Here, mortal or no, was someone obviously worthy of the vision of loveliness they had just seen float her way up to the top table.

Everyone stood in silence as he made his way to his seat at the high table, and Arwen’s eyes never left his face for the entire time that he walked up the Hall towards her.

The moment he sat, with a brief grin round the hall at them all as he did so, chatter erupted and servants appeared as if from nowhere with flagons of wine and huge platters piled high with food.

The feast began.

If Rohirric food had been basic, Germanic and hearty (with an alarming effect on the digestive system), then the Gondorian idea of good food was something else entirely. Clearly last night’s simple supper had been precisely that – a simple supper – and was not the standard by which Gondorian chefs should be judged. It did cross Penny’s mind that resources might be limited after the destruction of large chunks of the Pelennor and its crops, hence last night they had held back on foodstuffs so a ‘sumptuous blowout’ could be provided today.

The woods of Ithilien had been difficult to hunt for quite some time prior to the war, and there was little left within them to hunt even now, especially to do so within the short notice of the elves’ arrival. Hence, there was no roast boar or venison (though a Gondorian lord near them assured them that normally that would have also been part of the menu).

It was immediately apparent, though, that the cattle from the Pelennor had fed well while on their brief sojourn in the grasslands of Lebennin during the siege, since there were sliced up hunks of whole sides of beef being served on huge platters. There were also a few roast sheep and, already positioned on the tables at various points, several suckling pigs. If that were not enough, there were also whole roasted birds. Large, whole roasted birds. Indeed, one was placed on a table very near Penny and it had taken two servants to carry the thing.

It transpired it was a swan. Or rather, it was a swan, stuffed with a goose, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a pigeon, stuffed with a something like a quail, which was stuffed with a mixture of goose eggs, bread crumbs, more herbs than was sensible, olives, and some kind of fish paste.

Penny boggled.

There was also plenty of fish. Invariably large river fish stuffed with yet more herbs and spices and either covered in cream, or else roasted in a bready dough (itself well salted and peppered).

Interestingly there were not many vegetables on offer. Some potatoes, a lot of bread and that was about it. Although, there were quite a lot of artichokes, tomatoes and aubergines around, stirred into sauces and ladled over the chunks of meat cut from the roasts, usually with plenty of dried fruit thrown in (apricots and prunes being chief among these). Otherwise it was meat, birds, cheese and eggs, or combinations of the same, as far as the eye could see.

There was more offal than you could shake a stick at. There were sweetbreads in cider, hearts stuffed with mushrooms and dates, minced liver and onions in vine leaves, figs stewed with kidneys: it went on and on and on, and nearly all of it smothered in cream. (The dairy cows had also grazed well, apparently). Indeed, just about everything had some sort of ‘sauce’ all over it, either as a glaze or in which it had been cooked, invariably involving alcohol (usually wine), cream and plenty of herbs and spices. Pepper was a big favourite, as were cinnamon and something rather sharp, sour and piquant that Penny could not place at first.

“Oh, that is the fish paste I was telling you about,” the nearby Gondorian said. “It is very highly prized. It takes months to make.”

“Months?”

“Oh, yes. It is left to ferment…”

Penny suddenly did not feel so hungry any more. She stuck to roast meat and bread as her safest option. Umpteen spices combined with full fat cream and rancid bits of old fish were the last thing her still-recovering digestive system needed.

How long the feast lasted, Penny had no idea. She was too taken up in looking round her for most of it, wondering at the splendour of the people, the food, and the surroundings. The whole thing was sumptuous. The Hall itself was built entirely from stone, the floor was marble, and two rows of huge pillars held up the roof which was gilded and intricately carved. The Numenoreans clearly did not believe in doing things by halves and liked to make their mark, and their Gondorian descendents were following in their footsteps. It was evident in the piles of extravagant food, let alone the ostentatious dress of many of the lords and ladies.

They seemed to hope that fine silks, brocade, embroidery and jewels would make up for whatever natural beauty they lacked in comparison to a couple of hundred elves. They failed, of course, but it was hardly their fault nor for want of trying. Frankly who could succeed when faced with this many elves in their very, very best clothes? Penny actually felt a bit sorry for the Gondorians, especially the women, who no matter how stunning their costume or how pretty their face, could not hope to shine in such heart-stoppingly beauteous company.

The only ones not fazed by it all were the Dúnedain who were, of course, used to elves. This gave them a strange air of suave, sophisticated confidence that set them apart from the Gondorian lords who started stuttering and turning a bit pink round the neck if too many ellith talked to them at once.

Eventually, Mithrandir clapped his hands and called for silence. Then he got to his feet, the scraping sound of his chair being pushed back on the stone floor echoing into the rafters.

He asked Aragorn and Arwen to stand forth in front of the top table where all could see them.

A Dúnadan who, Lindir explained in a hushed whisper to Penny, was Aragorn’s cousin (his mother’s sister’s son) stood for Arathorn, while Galadriel stood for Celebrian. Together they joined the couple’s hands while Mithrandir spoke words in a tongue Penny did not understand till he repeated it all in Sindarin, invoking Eru Illuvatar and Manwe to bless the union.

Then Aragorn removed the small silver ring he wore on the little finger of his right hand and gave it to Arwen, while she returned to him the Ring of Barahir she wore around her neck (since it was far too large to be worn on an elleth’s delicate fingers). Then gold rings were exchanged, brought to them on a velvet cushion by a lad of about ten or so who was pink with pride at being so chosen. Arwen was then presented with a finely worked gemstone on a mithril chain by the Dunadan and thus was the ceremony concluded.

Aragorn gently pulled Arwen to him, and kissed her.

The place erupted.

To loud cheers, fanfare, applause and grins all round, the entire place on their feet, Aragorn and Arwen walked, arm in arm, down the length of the Hall to the doors. These had been flung open and, Penny realised, there was a waiting crowd outside who immediately burst into loud cheering as their King presented to them their Queen. Word spread like wildfire through the city: the deed was done. Bells rang, cheering echoed even down into the first circle, and everyone drank deep and toasted the couple’s health.

Today was declared a public holiday, King Elessar told the cheering crowd, and a day of celebration. Throughout the city, on every level, feasting and revelries were being had at the expense of the royal purse. Meat was roasted, much beer and wine imbibed, songs were sung, dancing would go on till the small hours, and many people would wake up the next day with sore heads but light hearts.

Inside the Hall, the tables were being cleared and, as quickly as might be managed, most of them removed. A few were kept and pushed back to the two side aisles formed by the two rows of pillars, so people would have places to sit and chat, or rest from dancing later on. Many more benches were left, not just with the small number of tables, but also up against the walls and as well as some of the pillars within the central portion of the Hall. At the far end, on a small, raised dais, two gilded chairs with high, straight backs and ornately carved arms and legs were set side by side, each with a velvet cushion on the seat. On either side of the dais were the heavy chairs that had been used at the top table, for the more important guests (such as Faramir, Galadriel or Mithrandir, to name only a few) to use if they felt the need.

Minstrels, who had been playing unobtrusively throughout the feast from a small gallery at the far end of the Hall and above the top table, now played a little louder and more exuberantly than before. By this time, Aragorn and Arwen had come back inside, still arm in arm, and wandered their way through the excited throng greeting people and being congratulated. Penny found it was interesting watching the difference between the congratulations of the elves and Dunedain, who knew them personally, and the slightly obsequious, over effusive manner of one or two of the Gondorians, the women in particular.

“Oh, is it not wonderful?” Mireth was beaming.

Penny nodded, smiling broadly. “And in less than a year it will be you and Celebdor.”

“I know!” Mireth positively bounced.

“Lady Pen-ii?”

Penny turned to find Halladan smiling down at her.

“Lord Halladan. Well met.”

He laughed. “Just Halladan, please. Just Halladan.”

“You are a delight to the eye, Lady Pen-ii.” Arvain was with his brother, and grabbed her hand, kissing it with a grand flourish. “Your dress suits you very handsomely, does it not, brother?”

Halladan murmured his assent, nodding and smiling gently.

Penny blushed a little with awkwardness. Flattery and politeness were all well and good, but she was no good at compliments, however well intentioned, especially if she did not believe them.

Thankfully she was saved any further discomfort by the imminent arrival of the royal newlyweds.

“Ah, Lady Pen-ii! We meet at last!”

Penny was not sure if she should curtsey or bow. She suddenly realised she had not been paying enough attention to what the Gondorian ladies had been doing in this respect. She opted for a sort of bob while keeping her eyes on the floor.

Of course, this was completely upstaged by Mireth throwing her arms round Arwen’s neck and Arvain and Halladan each in turn grasping Aragorn’s forearm to embrace him while giving him a hearty slap on the back.

“I see Lady Pen-ii at least shows some modicum of civility in remembering my station,” Aragorn said, smirking a little and raising an eyebrow at the brothers, who immediately looked apologetic. Aragorn laughed. “Come now, have I not known you both since you were babes in arms? You are like nephews to me, the pair of you! And Lady Pen-ii, do not feel embarrassed. You are most gracious and courteous, and I thank you for it.”

“I am still the same elleth you have shared a tent with all these weeks, Pen-ii.” Arwen smiled.

“I am so very happy for you,” Penny replied.

She had an urge to hug her, just as Mireth had done, but hesitated for a moment. Then there was something in the twinkle of Arwen’s eye that made her throw caution to the wind, hugging her and kissing her cheek. She did not notice the few raised eyebrows from Gondorian nobles near them who nudged each other and whispered.

“You have been such a good friend to me these past months, I cannot thank you enough. May Eru bless your marriage and Elbereth smile upon it.”

“Ah, that was well said, Pen-ii!” Aragorn grinned.

They chatted for a few minutes, in a small group, Penny hanging back a little. Eleniel had joined them, as well as Rhimlath who kissed Arwen’s hand most decorously and inclined his head to Aragorn very deeply. It was clear he had a deep respect for him, even if he was mortal: the exception to the rule, no doubt.

“I have written an ode in honour of this occasion,” he said.

“And I would be delighted to hear it, Rhimlath. I believe there will be some little dancing first, but later you must indeed entertain us with your poetic skill.”

Rhimlath seemed slightly put out that he could not recite it at them then and there. Penny noticed Lindir exchange a glance with Eleniel and the two nearly break out into hysterical sniggering.

The royal couple moved on.

“What was so funny?” Penny hissed at Lindir once Rhimlath was out of earshot (now shadowing Aragorn all the way to the gilded chairs and wondering loudly if vulgar dancing were really the sort of thing for such an auspicious moment and if not some skilfully wrought poetry of the ancient style would not be more in keeping).

“Ah, well, it is only that I know the sort of ‘ode’ Rhimlath has a liking for.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, I have just realised who that was,” Arvain interrupted. “Is that the ellon you said was taking Erestor to task over Weston, Pen-ii?”

Penny nodded as Lindir answered her question.

“Well, it will be very long, very dry and written in the most obscure Quenya he can think of.”

Penny, Halladan and Arvain blinked.

“Oh,” they all said at once.

“Yes, I would find yourselves very comfortable seats once you see him stand to read it. You may be there for some time.”

“Is this not just artistic jealousy speaking?”

“No, it is not, Celebdor!”

The others laughed.

“It is a fair question, perhaps, Celebdor,” Eleniel replied. “But I remember a reading Rhimlath gave one summer festival in Lothlorien, and even the Lord and Lady of the Wood seemed hard pressed to smile so fixedly for that long.”

“I am sure by mortal standards it was beautiful,” Penny pointed out.

“Oh, very probably,” Lindir said a little too glibly for Penny’s taste. “It is true we elves are exacting in our tastes.”

“I would never have noticed,” muttered Penny sarcastically.

She caught Arvain and Halladan’s glances in her direction and all three sniggered.

The moment Aragorn and Arwen were settled in their chairs, the minstrels stopped playing for a few minutes, clearly preparing themselves, and couples slowly made their way to the centre of the hall while everyone else cleared off to the sides. Eleniel had gone to sit with Galadriel and Arwen for a while. Lindir and Celebdor had disappeared to get cups of wine for them all, bringing Faelon back with them who, just like the brothers, made a big show of complimenting Penny as well as Mireth.

Then the minstrels started up again.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance, Lady Pen-ii?”

“Oh, ah, well, Lord Arvain, I am not terribly-”

“The best way to get Lady Pen-ii to dance is simply to grab her hand and drag her to the centre of the Hall,” Lindir interrupted.

“Lindir!”

“You have to admit he has a point, Pen-ii,” Celebdor said.

“Even Rumil used the same tactics,” Mireth pointed out.

“That was only because Lindir encouraged him.”

“I did no such thing!”

“You most certainly did! And I have yet to pay you back for it, too! You could have rescued me and instead you insisted it was a superb idea.”

Lindir raised an eyebrow. “‘Pay me back’? I am not sure I like the sound of that…”

“Yes, I would be concerned if I were you, Lindir,” Penny replied. “I am waiting for a good opportunity, but mark my words, I will not let you get away with it.”

Faelon roared. “Ai, Lindir, has it taken this many centuries for you to have finally met your match at last?”

The others were grinning.

“Oh, I am no match for Lindir and he knows it. I defer to his expertise when it comes to playing the fool.”

More laughter met that and gasps of mock outrage from Lindir.

“Just for that, young lady…” He thrust his cup out at Celebdor, who barely had time to grab hold of it and stop it from spilling wine down his tunic, and grabbed Penny by the wrist. “A dance, I think.”

“What! No!”

“Oh, come now, Lindir, if she does not wish to…” Halladan was laughing.

Lindir released his hold. “Very well. I will wait till she has had more to drink and then take her for a spin for a few fast dances, I think.”

Penny glared at him. “You would not dare.”

“Try me.”

“Argh! You are impossible!”

“Come, Lindir, I will have a dance with you.” Mireth held out her hand.

Celebdor looked crestfallen. “B-but I had hoped I would have the first-”

“You have two cups of wine in your hands,” Lindir pointed out, already making his way through the throng with Celebdor’s fiancée in tow.

Mireth slipped her hand from Lindir’s arm, stepped over to Celebdor, kissed him on the cheek and then was lost into the crowd.

Arvain was chuckling and shaking his head. “Will you really not have a dance?”

“Well, perhaps a little later once I have got the courage in me. I am not terribly good, I have to warn you, and unless it is a slow tune and easy steps I will make an awful mess of it.”

Arvain grinned. “Oh, is that all? You just need practise, then. And in that case I would be happy to oblige, indeed I shall insist upon it.”

She glanced at him. “You sound exactly like Lindir.”

Halladan laughed. “You must not let my brother bully you, Pen-ii.”

“Oh, no, not at all. If I can bear Lindir’s teasing, then I can bear anyone’s.”

“I was not bullying,” Arvain began to protest, but he was suddenly interrupted and distracted by a gaggle of Gondorian ladies who had approached him, clearly in the hope of getting a dance.

“Oh, but of course, Lady Sìdhwen” he said immediately to the lady nearest him, holding out his hand for her with a broad grin. She flushed shyly (which, given she had come up to him to ask him to dance seemed completely incongruous) and, with a look of triumph cast over her shoulder at her companions swanned off with Arvain into the crowd. The others looked hopefully in Celebdor and Faelon’s directions, both of whom did the gentlemanly thing and offered their arms, setting their drinks down on benches behind them.

Halladan had studiously ignored them all, so the remaining two women wandered off to find a pair of unsuspecting males to partner up with.

“I take it you are not up to dancing?”

Halladan glanced down at his stick. “No. Well, perhaps one or two of the slower turns if I was careful, but not overmuch, no.”

Penny nodded, suddenly aware of the lack of conversation between them.

“Shall we sit?” He gestured to the benches nearby left up against the wall.

So they sat, quietly, side by side, watching the crowd laughing and talking, drinking and dancing. Penny wondered why Halladan was not more involved. It could not be due solely to his leg.

“Such a momentous day,” she said at last. “It is wonderful to be here. A privilege.”

“Indeed. I do not doubt it. I am pleased beyond measure for Aragorn and Arwen. Truly. This day is a glorious one for them and for all who love them both. And who, of those that know them, does not love them, even if they have only met them for a moment.”

They exchanged a smile. There was a hint of sadness about Halladan’s, though.

“You wish your father were here to witness it, perhaps?” she said quietly.

He broke his gaze away from hers and looked into his cup. He sighed. “And my brother. But, yes, my father and Aragorn were very close. As close as brothers might be. Aragorn still mourns his passing, as do I.”

“As does Arvain, I am sure, and all who ever knew him.”

He glanced at her, smiled thinly, acknowledging her admitting her own grief, and went back to staring into his wine.

“Come now, Lady Pen-ii, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer. This next will be a slow one, I promise you.”

Arvain was standing in front of her, hand outstretched and with a determined look on his face that was strangely reminiscent of his father and told Penny he would brook no argument. She glanced at Halladan, uncertain, not wishing to leave him alone. Halladan smiled.

“Go! Go dance, Lady Pen-ii. Today is a day of celebration!”

“So celebrate, brother!” Arvain laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Find some lovely young lady of Gondor to hop next to.”

Halladan raised an eyebrow. “Hop? You mock me, brother?”

“But of course!” Arvain grinned. “Oh, come, Halladan, must you be such a misery on today of all days?”

Halladan nodded, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. “You are right, Arvain, you are right.” He forced a smile and heaved himself up from the bench with his stick. “I shall not find a ‘lovely young lady,’ though. I shall leave such flirtation to you since you seem so very good at it.” Arvain smirked, and Penny wondered what this new word was that Halladan had just used that Arvain seemed to find so amusing. She could guess at the meaning, though. “Rather, I shall find good company with which to have a pipe and share some wine.” He glanced up. “Ah, and here is just the person! Mithrandir!”

“Come, Pen-ii, or we will miss this dance,” Arvain offered her his arm.

“Oh… yes…” But she hesitated as Gandalf drew near.

“Lady Pen-ii! At last I get to greet you. You left so very early last night I had no opportunity. Well met! Well met, indeed.”

Penny was so pleased to see him, had so much to say and yet could not speak at all openly, indeed felt slightly thrown at seeing him like this. She opened her mouth to say something, but Gandalf just rattled on.

“You are looking very well for your sojourn with the elves. I heard of your illness, of course, but I can see life in Imladris has suited you. You are looking most delightful today, might I add, most fetching.”

Penny, meanwhile, flushed with shyness. “Oh, nonsense. A pretty dress and a few pearls in the hair could make even an orc look good,” she muttered.

Arvain laughed out loud. “I sincerely doubt it. I take it you have never seen an orc, Lady Pen-ii, or you would not say such a thing.”

“Oh, but she has.” Lindir was back. “She insisted. Did you not, Pen-ii?”

“Did she now?” Gandalf looked at her with intense curiosity.

“She regretted it, of course, but she can not say we did not try and warn her…”

“Do not embarrass me, Lindir.”

“Pay her no heed, gentlemen, I shall tell you later.”

“You will not!”

“Pen-ii…”

“Bloody elves!”

“Yes, you really must translate that for me sometime. Judging by the way Mithrandir’s eyebrows have just flown up to meet his hairline, it is nearly as bad as I feared.” Lindir was chuckling as he fetched his wine.

“You are missing your dance, Arvain,” Halladan said quietly. There was an amused glint in his eye.

Penny looked at him gratefully.

“Oh, yes, indeed. They have already started. Come along, Lady Pen-ii, we can just squeeze in behind Celebdor and Mireth.” So saying, Arvain pulled her briskly towards the centre of the Hall.

She was going to have a dance, whether she liked it or not.

Author’s Notes:

Just a reminder of the hobbits names in Westron: Frodo is ‘Maura’, Samwise is ‘Banazir’ or ‘Ban’, Meriadoc is ‘Kalimac’ or ‘Kali’, and Peregrin is ‘Razanur’ or ‘Raz’.

I have used LaCE (‘Laws and Customs of Elves’, HoME) as my reference for the wedding details. Given with Arwen wearing the Ring of Barahir and Galadriel giving the Elessar Stone it is clear the engagement at least was done on elvish terms, thus no doubt the wedding would have been also. It is fair to assume, also, that the Numenoreans no doubt would have used a wedding ceremony similar to if not the same as the elvish one (given their heritage), it is not unreasonable therefore to suggest that the Gondorian ceremony would also have been the same or similar. Hence double the reason to stick by LaCE in my book: “Then at a feast, again shared by the two houses, the marriage was celebrated. At the end of the feast the betrothed stood forth, and the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom joined the hands of the pair and blessed them. For this blessing there was a solemn form, but no mortal has heard it; though the Eldar say that Varda was named in witness by the mother and Manwe by the father; and moreover that the name of Eru was spoken (as was seldom done at any other time). The betrothed then received back one from the other their silver rings (and treasured them); but they gave in exchange slender rings of gold, which were worn upon the index of the right hand. Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride's mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom's father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen's mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)” [Yes, I know JRRT was considering an alternative reason for the Elessar being given – namely Gandalf bringing it with him for the King and Galadriel only holding it in safe-keeping, but that’s not the point. ;P]

We don’t know Gilraen didn’t have a sister. *looks shifty* I thought that it would be more fitting a Dunadan stand in for Arathorn than Elrond. Apart from the fact that Elrond is father to the bride, Aragorn’s Dunedain lineage and all he stands for is a very important part of who he is, why he is king and why is being allowed to marry Arwen, daughter of the ellon who could have been High-King if he had wanted to be. Anyway, please note I made it a cousin by his mother’s side, and thus someone not eligible or close to the royal lineage. Thus I hope I have not mangled canon too horribly, and stick it down to poetic licence. *cowers*

Advance author’s note: Right, well, I would if I could, but you said I mustn’t so I won’t. Thus, this is me not apologising. … *hides*

Chapter 24 – Wine, Women and Song

Arvain turned out to be a very good dancer.

As did Faelon, who offered Penny his arm as soon as she had finished (and whom she did not feel she could very well refuse, given she had just danced with Arvain).

After which, almost inevitably, Lindir would not be refused either. Nor Celebdor. Nor Rhimlath. Nor Arvain (once more), who said he would teach her a slightly faster dance tune as it started up. Nor one or two Dúnedain who, it transpired, had been chivvied into asking her by Arvain and Lindir between them. Even Elladan muscled in on the act, laughingly saying he had ‘better take advantage of Penny actually accepting dances for once before it never happened again in her lifetime.’

Penny found she was actually enjoying herself. Having had a little bit of practice in Imladris and Lothlorien (as well as Rohan, though she barely remembered it) helped to lessen her nerves. She was just thankful that Gondorian dance steps were not overly complex or exuberant. Presumably the more bouncy stuff was being indulged in down in the first level of the city. Up here in the rarefied atmosphere of the wealthy and well-to-do, things were slightly more staid.

(Or at least they would be until a little later in the evening once a bit more wine and mead had been drunk by dancers and minstrels alike).

After an hour of almost non-stop dancing, though, she had to sit down. She had finished yet another dance with Arvain and Lindir had stepped over to her with a grin as the last notes echoed up into the roof rafters. His face quickly turned to concern, though, as Penny’s responding smile seemed a little wobbly and feeble.

“Come and rest,” he said quickly. “I had forgotten it has been a while since you were used to such exertion.”

Mireth fussed over her, of course, and banned her from dancing for a while. Lindir joked that Penny was probably quite pleased to hear her say that, and was astonished when Penny said she had been enjoying it.

“I do not believe it! At long last! I knew if I persevered she would-“

“I helped,” Arvain pointed out.

“Yes, indeed,” Lindir conceded, “Between the two of us we have-”

“I note I am not acknowledged in having a hand in it at all.” Penny sounded rather put out.

“Of course not,” Lindir retorted. “If we had not bullied…”

“And coerced…” Celebdor added

“And insisted…” Arvain continued

“She would not be in the state of near exhaustion she is now!” Mireth finished for them.

“Ah…”

“Well…”

“Um…”

“‘Near exhaustion’ is something of an exaggeration, Mireth,” Penny pointed out, but she was still relegated to the bench for a good while.

After another hour or two (during which Penny had a few more dances, despite Mireth’s protests), the same Gondorian who had tried to organise the seating for the feast clapped his hands in the direction of the balcony, and made signals at the minstrels that they could have a break.

Penny decided she needed some air, as well as to answer nature’s call, and she, Mireth and Eleniel ambled off together to find the nearest latrines. They left behind them a group of males, mortal and immortal, all shaking their heads and wondering why it was females always needed to do these sorts of things in groups.

When they returned, they found Lindir, Halladan, Arvain, Rhimlath and Erestor all in a group. It was clear a sort of impromptu recital had started up. Everyone was listening to three small boys standing in front of the royal couple and singing in high, tremulous voices while a rather thin, bony Gondorian kept time with his hands beside them.

One after another, singers, musicians or poets stood forth. Much was impromptu, with a particular person being pushed forward by their friends, or else a certain piece being asked of a well-known artist. A harpist from Dol Amroth, in the city visiting her mother, played a beautiful tune that Lindir murmured he would have to learn before he left. Lindir himself, of course, had his turn, at the request of many there, including the King and Queen. The Great Hall went completely silent as everyone listened with rapt attention as he sang, unaccompanied, of a long unrequited love joined at last.

At last Rhimlath got up at Aragorn’s behest. Penny did not doubt that to many there he seemed tall, beautiful and terribly impressive as he made his way to the centre of the Hall where everyone could see him, picking off an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve and smoothing down his hair. To Penny, though, he had that supercilious look about him, a slight smug arch to one eyebrow, that told her he considered whatever he was about to recite to be his finest work. She whispered as much to Erestor.

“Oh, he always thinks his latest piece is his finest work,” Erestor replied. “He is forever perfecting his craft.” He said this last comment with a perfectly straight face, but Penny could see the hint of laughter in his eye.

The ode, just as Lindir had predicted, was indeed very long. By the end of it Penny could feel her backside going numb against the wooden bench she was parked on.

It was also utterly incomprehensible to most there since, again as Lindir had predicted, it was entirely in Quenya. Erestor tutted once or twice and shook his head as if noting a wrongly inflected noun here or a badly declined verb there. Penny was not sure she wanted to be around if Rhimlath asked for Erestor’s opinion afterwards because she did not doubt for one moment Erestor would give it to him, in length and in detail.

As far as she was concerned, though, it sounded wonderful. She made a point of telling him so afterwards, too, because she felt sure from the expressions on Lindir’s and Erestor’s faces that they were about to tease him mercilessly.

“Really? You enjoyed it? I am pleasantly surprised, I must say. How gratifying. I mean, of course, you could not possibly have understood it, far too lofty a theme for a mortal to truly grasp in any sort of depth even if you were capable of understanding Quenya…”

Penny sighed. She was not sure why she had bothered.

Clearly it was felt a change of mood was called for after that, though, and there were no more recitations or songs. Everyone was asked to slowly make their way outside in the courtyard for a little while so that the servants had space to bring the tables back in and ready everything for the evening feast. Penny did wonder if Rhimlath’s lengthy piece of ‘high art’ had simply killed the recital flat, though she would not have dared tell him so. Erestor, however, had no such qualms and loudly pointed out to Rhimlath how everyone seemed in an awful hurry to declare an end to the proceedings after he was done.

“Only because they realise no one could possibly match such a work,” Rhimlath replied imperiously.

“Oh, I think that is very likely the cause… Though perhaps not for the reasons you may think, Rhimlath.”

The smirk Lindir threw in Erestor’s direction as he said this was matched by Erestor’s own, who then covered his laughter with a cough.

“I notice it is rare indeed when you attempt a work in Quenya,” Rhimlath retorted.

Lindir narrowed his eyes. “I have written several songs in Quenya as you well know, and one which even Gil-galad himself -”

“Oh, forgive me, Lindir,” Rhilmath snorted, “but you know as well as I that Gil-galad was always most courteous and generous to the youngsters under his command whether it was warranted or not. It was very kind of him to humour you so, but -”

“Humour?!” Lindir looked livid.

“- but in truth, you have to admit that his doing so only served to encourage you in some really rather basic errors and lackadaisical phrasing -”

If Lindir had had a conniption fit then and there on the spot it would not have surprised Penny in the least.

“You declined ‘forebear’ incorrectly,” Erestor cut in. “And I have no idea what you meant in the line about ‘begetting starlight in spite of buttery pools’ or some such nonsense. Muddling up your vocabulary lists again, no doubt. I have warned you before about insisting on making your own rather than sticking to the tried and tested grammars.”

Rhimlath flushed hotly.

Arvain looked at Penny with one eyebrow raised. “Are they always like this?”

Halladan, Penny and he were hanging back a little as the bickering ellyn walked ahead of them.

“Believe me, Arvain, the Westron lessons were far worse. It was most trying, to say the least. It was why I refused to attend the lessons in the end.”

“I am not sure I blame you,” Halladan muttered.

They made their way down the steps and into the melee. Halladan and Arvain left Penny with Erestor and Lindir while they peeled Rhimlath off to introduce him to some Dúnedain before the three ellyn fell out completely.

In the crowd spirits were high. People slowly trundled down the steps and spread out to fill the courtyard in little groups where the conversations were filled with extravagant stories and laughter. After a little while, Lindir, still smarting over the denigration of his Quenyan skills, disappeared off somewhere, no doubt to hunt down Rhimlath and finish their row. At the same time, Legolas happened to pass by and was engaged in conversation by Erestor. Thus, Penny found herself alone with them both for a moment.

She decided to take the opportunity to say something.

“Lord Legolas, I wanted to ask you… That is I feel I owe you… Perhaps this is not the time, but I have to tell you…”

Legolas looked at her with a shrewd gaze. He could guess what she wanted to say. He smiled.

“I have not forgotten my promise, Lady Pen-ii. Do not fear. I stand by it.”

Penny let out a sigh of relief, her eyes closing for a moment before she opened them once more and looked gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Lord Legolas, that means much to me.”

Legolas nodded. “I understand you wish to talk of all that has passed. I would be most interested to learn more from you also, as would Mithrandir and King Elessar, I do not doubt, but…”

“There will be time enough to discuss this after today’s festivities,” Erestor said kindly. “Try not to trouble yourself about such things today, Pen-ii.”

“Indeed, as Erestor says, today is a day to forget such trials and dangers as have been faced so very recently. It must be difficult for you, perhaps, but there is enough enjoyment to be had this day to allow you to forget for a while, no?”

“You are both correct, of course. Forgive me for mentioning it.”

“Not at all, Pen-ii,” Erestor laughed gently. “I am surprised you have restrained yourself this long, in all honesty, nor are you to be blamed. Legolas is correct: Mithrandir knows of your desire to speak with him, and I do not doubt that he and Estel will strive to make time for you as soon as they may. However this,” he waved around him in an expansive manner, “takes priority for today, as I am sure you appreciate.”

“It is a momentous day.”

“It is indeed. I saw you dancing earlier. You seemed as if you were enjoying yourself.” There was a note of surprise in his voice, and the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Are you mocking me, Lord Erestor?”

“What? No! No, not at all! Surprised, perhaps, that you were so willing, that is all. Could it be that Lindir has finally cured you?”

“‘Cured’?” Legolas looked bemused.

“Oh, Lady Pen-ii here is famed for her reluctance to dance. … Well, unless it be down the hills of Rohan, that is.” He chuckled.

Penny looked appalled, flushing bright red, and glanced at Legolas, wondering what on earth he would make of it all.

“Oh, yes, I heard all about that!” Legolas laughed. “I am sorry to have missed it!”

‘Damn, bloody, gossipy elves!’ Penny fumed. ‘Can never keep a damn thing to themselves!’

Legolas noted the brief flash of fury across her face which just made him laugh even more.

“Ai, you must know how we are by now, Lady Pen-ii. It is hard to keep anything quiet among elves if it is a story that will entertain.” He grinned. “Especially if Lindir has anything to do with it.”

Penny made a mental note to take Lindir to task at the earliest opportunity.

“Well, if you are ‘cured,’ as Lord Erestor suggests,” Legolas continued, “then you will do me the honour of a dance later this evening perhaps?”

“Oh, ah, well, if you insist, um, it would be churlish to refuse…”

Erestor laughed out loud. “Not cured entirely, it would seem!”

“What is this? Is Lady Pen-ii still unwell? I hope not, indeed.”

“No, no, Estel, I was talking of Penny being cured of her dislike of dancing.”

“Ah.” Aragorn grinned. “Yes, that is as it should be. I would not have anyone not dance on my wedding day. I trust you are enjoying yourself, Pen-ii?”

“Who could not, with such wonderful entertainment in such beautiful surroundings?”

“She has this knack of saying the right thing, does she not?” Aragorn turned to Erestor with a grin. “I say she will fit in very well in court.”

“Oh, but I mean it.”

Penny decided not to react to the implied understanding between Aragorn and Erestor that her staying in Minas Tirith was a ‘fait accomplis’. Now was not the time.

“I do not doubt you do. It must be… an experience for you to be here after all you have read and heard of this place.”

The words were innocuous enough, perhaps, but the meaning was glaringly obvious to all four of those standing there. Penny nodded dumbly for a second.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Suddenly Eleniel pushed her way past Legolas.

“Pen-ii? Ah, there you are!”

She grabbed Penny’s hand and started to pull her away. At the same time, Arwen, who had just arrived at Aragorn’s side, had barely had time to say two words to him before Mireth did the same thing to her. Immediately both she and Penny were being dragged through the crowd, without explanation, and leaving the astonished males in their wake.

It was quickly apparent what the fuss was about, though.

A great group of ellith were dancing and singing in a sort of reel at the far end of the courtyard. As soon as Arwen realised what was going on, she picked up her skirts with one hand and, hand in hand with Mireth, ran to join in, the pair laughing gaily as they did so. Penny and Eleniel joined the end of one line, Penny clapping in time to the tune and trying to take notice of the steps.

Both the dance and the tune were easy enough, though. More and more ellith joined them, and any passing lady of Gondor was grabbed and roped in as well. Pretty soon nearly every female there was involved, laughing, singing and skipping round each other in great twists and formations that folded in on themselves, reformed and folded once more. Even Galadriel passed Penny by on several occasions, suddenly looking a lot sprightlier than Penny ever remembered seeing her before.

The males all stood and watched - the mortals bemused yet enchanted and the immortals smiling broadly. Many were clapping along in time to the song as well. If any male she knew caught Penny’s eye, they nodded and smiled broadly to see her as such an enthusiastic member of this brief moment of enjoyable silliness. Halladan was chuckling and shaking his head at her as she whirled past him.

Inexorably the females were making their way across the courtyard. Then at some point Aragorn was reached and either pulled by his hand to join them or else somehow the dance enveloped him by design. Penny was not sure which and, judging by the expression on Aragorn’s face, neither was he, since he seemed quite bewildered to find himself suddenly in the middle of it all. At the same time Arwen was left standing alone, facing him, even as the women danced, sang and twirled around them.

Then, all of a sudden, the singing reached a long, high note at the end of the chorus. Aragorn instinctively caught Arwen round the waist as she stepped up to him, and then she leaned forward and kissed him. In that same moment, the dancing and singing stopped and everyone exploded into laughter and applause, while the bride and groom were briefly left locked in an embrace in the middle of them all.

“It is a silly thing that the younger elves might do in play or else in summer festivals. We often do this at a wedding, just for the enjoyment of it.” Eleniel was grinning hugely as she explained to Penny and anyone else who cared to listen.

“Ah, does it not set such a romantic mood?” Mireth had one arm round Celebdor’s waist, her head against his chest. Celebdor looked like the cat that had got the cream.

But then so did Aragorn a little way behind him, seemingly a little reluctant to let Arwen out of his arms, who was laughing and denying all responsibility for the dance.

“I was taken just as much by surprise as you.”

“Yes, but you knew well enough what it would lead up to, did you not?”

“Perhaps.” She giggled.

“I see.” Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “Well, in that case…” He pulled her close and kissed her once again.

There was a discreet cough nearby.

“Your Majesty?” It was Faramir, with the Gondorian Maitre D’ (as Penny now thought of the poor man trying to organise everything and keep some semblance of order about the proceedings) hovering next to him. “Forgive me, but everything is readied.”

“Ah, very good, Faramir. Thank you, Dúrion, you may let everyone know.” Dúrion scuttled off to see if this time he could get a more organised seating arrangement. It was an exercise in futility, but he was determined nonetheless.

“Lord Faramir, I do not believe you have yet met Lady Pen-ii. She travelled south with Lord Elrond. She has been a guest in Imladris for many months – indeed, since before I began my journey indeed.”

Faramir inclined his head most graciously, his hand across his breast.

“It is an honour,” he said. “If that is the case, then you must have met my brother, Lord Boromir.”

Penny was not sure how she managed it, but she did not bat an eyelid as he said this. She noticed those near her looking at her as if to gauge her response to Faramir’s comment. She did not doubt that Aragorn had guessed long ago what the true reason for her avoiding Boromir had been, but others such as Celebdor could not be wholly certain (though they knew now she had had some foreknowledge so perhaps could have put two and two together).

“I did indeed. The honour is all mine to meet the brother of so noble a man as he. He was always most gracious and kind to me, even though at that time I knew no Sindarin and we could not properly converse. I… I was so sorry to hear of his fall.” Okay, now she was faltering, she could feel it. This was the wrong thing to have said. The wrong thing and the wrong time. She fought to keep a grip. “He was a great man, Lord Faramir, of that I have no doubt.”

Faramir nodded and smiled, thanking her for her kind words.

As everyone slowly made their way back towards the Hall, Penny felt a gentle tug on her sleeve. It was Aragorn. He bent to murmur quietly into her ear.

“Well said, Lady Pen-ii. Boromir was indeed an honourable man. I grew to love him as a brother.”

She gave him a faltering smile. “I know you did.”

He nodded. “Tomorrow, Pen-ii. I know you have much you wish to discuss, and I with you. Tomorrow, I promise you.”

Penny was surprised. “So soon? I mean, is there no tradition of…” She realised she knew no word for ‘honeymoon’ or even ‘holiday’. “Um… well, the bride and groom, do they not… have time alone for a few days at least?”

“The business of state continues, married or no, Pen-ii.” Aragorn laughed quietly. “I will not be rushing out to battle for a few days if I can possibly help it, of course, but otherwise I think I can perhaps spare you an hour or so.” He smiled. “If Arwen will allow me the time, that is,” he added with a grin in Arwen’s direction. She smiled and shook her head at him slightly, then laughed.

Penny was sure she did not want to know, thank you very much.

The evening feast was just as sumptuous as the earlier one. Minstrels entertained with songs throughout, the wine flowed and the conversation seemed to slowly increase in volume as the evening wore on. A few speeches were said and toasts drunk. Faramir spoke very movingly on how proud he was to be part of this historic moment, how pleased the people of Gondor were to at last have their King returned and that such a beautiful wife of such a noble race would do both King and country great credit and honour. It went down very well with the elves, who nodded and murmured appreciatively and declared they could understand entirely what Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas saw in him.

Afterwards, just as before, most of the tables were removed and the few that remained pushed to the sides so that there was space for dancing. This time Penny had no excuses to make to anyone who asked for a dance and Arvain got in first, deaf to Mireth’s insistence that Penny take it easy and not overdo it.

Legolas got his dance, Elrohir insisted he have must have one since his brother had had one that afternoon, Faelon got two, and even Glorfindel got in on the act. He proved himself to be another Rúmil by practically dragging her round the room to a fast-paced tune with her feet a good two inches off the floor for most of it.

If that were not enough, Penny even had one or two offers to dance from Gondorians, all of whom Penny did not know or had only just met. Of course, this was due to the fact that not only was she ‘the woman who had arrived in the company of elves’, she was also ‘the woman who was clearly an intimate friend of the Queen, given she had hugged and kissed her’ as well as the woman who, it appeared, ‘was on first name terms with the King, Mithrandir, various Dúnedain and every one of the higher-ranking elves, don’t you know.’

Penny knew none of this, of course. The elves were friends, the Dúnedain were friends of friends, but the Gondorians had no need to ask her to dance to make her feel good or be friendly, so she reasoned. Thus, for the first time that day, she felt genuinely flattered.

It was all rather spoilt, however, when a slightly portly, middle-aged (but rather grand) gentleman sedately led her round the marbled, inlaid floor, and at the same time tried to grill her on Lord Elrond, Lothlorien and how she knew the King so well. Thus Penny at last guessed the true reason for her new-found popularity as a dance partner amongst the men of Gondor.

Still, it was nice to be asked.

At the same time as her reputation was rising amongst some of the Gondorian lords, though, so it was slowly becoming mud with a few of the women. They too had noticed this foreigner stepping round the dance floor on the arm of various elvish and Dúnedain lords, and they were not amused. That Penny had managed to get a dance out of both Elladan and Elrohir without so much as a flutter of her eyelashes had one or two positively seething, since they had tried (and failed) to interest the brothers in all the time they had been in Minas Tirith before leaving for Rohan.

That said, however, there were more than enough ellyn to go round. The Dúnedain had taken their fair share of ‘interest’ from the ladies of Gondor since the War, but now with a room full of ellyn as well as the striking men of the North, the unattached women of Minas Tirith were nearly beside themselves and hardly knew where to look. Even the married women got a bit flustered at points, much to their husbands’ irritation.

The younger the unattached maids of Gondor were, the sillier they were about it all, with much huddling together, and conspiratorial whispering and nudging whenever an ellon walked past. An explosion of hysterical giggling would break out if one of them was actually asked to dance, from both the one asked (who would go as red as a beetroot) as well as all her friends.

Slightly more dangerous were the older young maidens of marrying age, who circled the room like sharks on the hunt. Lady Sìdhwen, the damsel who had danced the first dance with Arvain in the afternoon, was one of these. Each time Arvain dragged Penny up to dance, Lady Sìdhwen would watch them stroll past her with cold, hard stare.

The most unabashed of all (and amusing, depending on your point of view) were the widows. To be fair, it was only those who had long been widowed, or those who, if recently bereaved in the War, had thought theirs was no great loss. By late in the evening, when a little too much wine had been had, more than one would have to be practically peeled off an alarmed looking ellon by her friends, profusely apologetic as they dragged her out for some air.

Penny was having a sit down. It was still relatively early, with dusk only just having fallen outside, but already the long day was beginning to take its toll and she was not sure how much longer she would last. Give it an hour at most and she was likely to call it a night, she suspected.

Eleniel was trying to persuade Lindir to have a dance.

“I have just got a refill of wine, Eleniel. The dance after this one, I promise.”

Eleniel made an exasperated noise, and looked around to see who else might be free when she found herself surrounded by four Gondorian nobles who ‘just happened to have overheard’ and all offering their arms.

“Why, how very kind of you,” Eleniel said quietly, lowering her gaze shyly as she took the arm of the one nearest to her.

The young man she had chosen, probably no more than twenty-two if that, puffed out his chest with pride, and could not have had a wider grin on his face if he had tried. The remaining three looked most put out. One turned to Penny, but even as he opened his mouth she held her hand.

“I thank you, but no. I am sitting this one out.”

She smiled, he bowed his head and went on his way, passing by Halladan as he did so who was slowly making his way over to them.

“Not dancing, Pen-ii?”

“No, not for this tune, Halladan.”

“May I join you?”

“But of course.”

She shuffled over on the bench to make enough space for him. He sat rather heavily, keeping his bad leg stuck out in front of him, and then leant his stick up against the pillar next to him. Lindir handed him a cup and, producing a jug of wine from under the bench next to Penny, filled it for him.

Even as the music started up, Arvain appeared, backing away from a bevy of beauties, with his hands up.

“Ladies, ladies, I am most flattered, but I really must have a rest and some wine.”

“Oh, now, Lord Arvain, you are most unfair. I have been waiting an Age for a dance with you!”

“Now, Lady Sìdhwen, that is not quite true. I danced with you earlier in the evening, did I not?”

“Twice hardly counts, Lord Arvain,” she simpered. “Please? You would not refuse me, would you? Otherwise I shall have to dance with my brother again, and he is such a brute with his great feet. He has no finesse at all.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Not like you.”

Penny had to suppress a laugh. Lady Sìdhwen was using Westron, so Penny only understood the odd word, but even so it was still painfully obvious she was ladling it on in bucket loads. Subtle was clearly not a word in her vocabulary. Penny glanced up to see Lindir had turned away, with his hand to his mouth and he was just as on the edge of a fit of the giggles as she was.

“Who am I to refuse such a charming lady such as yourself?” Arvain bowed slightly, taking her hand in his and kissing it graciously. Lady Sìdhwen put on her best ‘demure’ expression as she allowed him to take her arm.

Penny pulled a face. Halladan laughed out loud, and Lindir choked into his wine.

“He is rather popular, is he not?” Penny smirked.

“He does his best to encourage it.”

“So I see,” sniggered Lindir. “Ai, the folly of youth.”

“Indeed.” Halladan chuckled.

“But he is older than I am, surely?”

“Only by a few years, Pen-ii.” Halladan replied.

“I take it he is not married?”

“No, indeed! If he were married and behaving in such a manner, he would have me to answer to for a start.” Halladan laughed. “No, there is no sweet young thing waiting for him in the North, so he can allow himself a dance or several with the fair maids of Gondor with impunity.”

Penny wondered if she had found the answer as to why Halladan was so reluctant to dance or be more jovial. “And you, Halladan? You have a wife?”

“Me? No, no.” He smiled. “There has been little time to think of such things up till now. Too much work to be done.”

“The Dúnedain do not marry as young as other mortals, Pen-ii. I am sure you know that.”

“Was it a foolish question? I do apologise…”

“Not at all, Pen-ii. After all Hirvell was betrothed, was he not, Halladan?”

There was a strained look about Halladan all of a sudden. “No. No, he never asked her, Lindir.”

“Oh. But I had thought…”

“No, he decided against it. Decided he would wait until after the War. He was concerned that if something should happen… that it would be a greater burden to her if they had made that commitment…” He fell silent, very obviously struggling to keep reign on his emotions. He coughed slightly. “Forgive me, I…”

“No need, my friend,” said Lindir quietly.

Halladan put down his cup.

“If you will excuse me, perhaps I will get some air.”

“Forgive me, Halladan, I did not mean to bring up a subject that was painful to you.”

“Do not concern yourself, Pen-ii.” He smiled gently at her, but she could see the depth of sadness in his eyes, his jaw tight. “A walk will do my leg a little good, that is all.” He was a convincing liar.

“Why not have a dance instead?” Lindir suggested.

Halladan blinked at him.

“After all, today is a day of celebration, and Pen-ii is unpartnered for the next dance since I have promised Eleniel and I am sure Arvain will not be free for a while judging from the determined look on Lady Sìdhwen’s face.”

“Oh, no, Lindir, I am sure Halladan would not wish…”

“Yes, why not, indeed?” Halladan seemed quite grateful for the opportunity to think about something else for a while. “If you could bear a lumbering, one-legged oaf, that is, Pen-ii…”

“You are hardly lumbering or one-legged!”

“Ah, but I may be an oaf?” Penny noticed the glitter of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you are, but I do not know you well enough as yet, Halladan.” She tried to keep a straight face but the hint of a smirk betrayed her.

“Well, then, let us get to know each other a little better.” He stood, and held out his hand. “This next dance should be a slow enough one that even I should be able to cope with.”

As Penny let him lead her towards the centre of the Hall, she felt rather pleased to have finally got him involved in it all, even if it had been Lindir’s suggestion. By the time he was standing opposite her, waiting for the dance to begin with Arvain on one side of him and Lindir on the other, his smile was more relaxed and less fraught than it had been earlier and that could only be a good thing as far as she was concerned.

It did not last.

As the evening wore on, and the wine flowed, so almost inevitably conversations turned in some quarters to toasting of lost friends and comrades. Long tales were told of daring escapades on the battlefield, and songs were sung of glory and death, of honour and blood spilled, how it had all been worth it no matter the cost. Gondor had won, the Enemy was laid low at last and the Shadow that had existed longer than any Gondorian could remember was gone.

Halladan started drinking rather heavily from that point onwards.

Penny was exhausted and really did not need Eleniel insisting she go to bed. She had already made her mind up she would go. She refused to be escorted.

“No, no, Rhimlath, it is only across the courtyard. I am more than capable!”

She waved goodnight to the hobbits - all four sat at one table with a large jug of mead being shared between them all - and weaved her way round the groups of people towards the doors.

“No, Halladan, enough is enough. I think you should call it a night.”

“Do not tell me what to do, Arvain!”

“Halladan, be reasonable!”

“I cannot bear this laughter and levity any longer! Get your hands off me! I have no desire to stay and do not need you pulling me out of the doors!”

People round them were looking their way. Arvain and Faelon shared a glance and, as if by silent, mutual agreement, took hold of Halladan by the elbows and steered him out of the doors.

“Let go of me!”

“But of course,” Arvain murmured. “Forgive me, brother, but people were starting to stare…”

“So let them stare! Do you think I care one jot what they may think? I am the son of Halbarad, a man who was worth ten of them or more!”

“Faelon? Arvain?” Penny was not sure she should interrupt.

It did have the desired effect, though. Halladan was worse for wear, perhaps, but not so far gone that he could not make some attempt to pull himself together.

“Ah, Pen-ii!” He straightened himself a little and coughed. “Are you leaving so early?”

“I am very tired, Halladan. A long day and I am still not up to full strength.”

“But of course, but of course. Please, allow us to escort you to your chambers.”

Penny was on the point of refusing but saw the slightly desperate look about Arvain and Faelon. They both seemed to think this would be a rather good idea, so she accepted. Faelon excused himself and headed back into the Hall, and the brothers walked her to her door.

It was a short walk in which little was said. Penny commented on how beautiful the stars were and the brothers murmured their agreement, but that was about it. Halladan seemed to be still glowering with anger, while Arvain was clearly wary that he may explode again at any moment judging from the glances he kept throwing in his brother’s direction. Penny felt slightly uncomfortable to be between the two of them, given she was in the middle of something not wholly understood and, very possibly, none of her business.

Soon enough they had reached the door to her lodgings where they bade her goodnight. Halladan was already a little way back up the street when Arvain turned back to Penny.

“You must forgive my brother. He has had a little too much wine and…”

“I understand, Arvain.”

“He finds it hard to accept his loss.”

“It is your loss also.”

Arvain nodded and opened his mouth to say something more, but Halladan had stopped and called his name. He bowed and said goodnight once more, turning to jog up the street to his brother, who held his hand up in farewell to Penny.

“We will see you on the morrow, Pen-ii,” Halladan called.

Penny held her hand up to them both by way of reply, before entering the house and heading up to her rooms. Even as she fell asleep that night, though, she wondered what more Arvain would have said to her if Halladan had not interrupted him.

As ever, my sincere thanks to all who take the time to review, let alone keep reading. I appreciate all your comments, advice, con crit and corrections - keep them coming.

Chapter 25: “Like Father Like Son?”

It was another beautiful morning in Gondor. Penny awoke to find the sun streaming in through the open shutters and Mireth half hanging out the window as she looked down at the city.

“Argh! Do you have to blind me with daylight to wake me?”

Mireth laughed.

“My apologies, I did not intend to rouse you, but it is already well past your usual hour of waking. We let you sleep a little after yesterday’s excitement and exertions. The others have already fetched breakfast.”

Penny quickly dressed and joined the others in the central room.

Just as they finished their meal, one of the same women who had arrived the previous morning to clean the rooms and help prepare the water for bathing knocked and wandered in. Eleniel asked her for directions to the washing stoop.

“Oh, you are not the only ones today. Most of your party, I warrant, are on their way there or will be soon,” she laughed. “You would probably find them easily enough and could just follow them. If you do not mind waiting a little while, though, I can take you myself, so there will be no mistaking it. You will need baskets?”

“We have this left over from breakfast…,” one of the ellith in their group began.

“Oh, no, no, no. I will fetch you some bigger ones than that. Will you all be going? Do you have much to wash?”

They decided two or three baskets between them should be more than enough, depending on their size, and soon the woman had returned with three (“just to be on the safe side, and if you ever want some while you are here, they are kept in the little store cupboard beside the washroom downstairs. My niece makes beautiful wickerwork. Not like these, of course, though they are sturdy enough for what you need. She lives down in Dol Amroth, you know…”).

While she swept out the room (still chattering all the while, and leaving barely a breath for anyone else to get a word in) and then returned the remains of the breakfast to the buttery, Penny and the others gathered together the dresses and undershifts they had worn in the journey from Lothlorien and were travel-stained and dirty. Then they headed out into the courtyard with the baskets to await the woman’s return from the Citadel.

“No, I am sorry, Lord Faramir, it is out of the question.”

“Dúrion, you must understand that-”

“We have washerwomen who are more than capable, and I feel sure would be very willing to-”

“This is a delicate matter, Dúrion, the Galadhrim in particular-”

Dúrion looked puzzled.

“The elves from Lothlorien,” Faramir explained.

The two men were standing near the patch of grass which had the White Tree and fountain at its centre and were having, if not exactly a heated debate, then certainly a ‘moment’ between them. Glorfindel and Lindir were standing nearby, the latter with a basket of clothes on the floor beside him, both clearly trying to give Faramir and Dúrion some space. Mireth, Penny, Eleniel and the rest murmured greetings and then took up station on two of the benches beside the fountain where they made a great show of chattering to each other while actually eavesdropping at the same time.

“But surely their womenfolk can wash their tunics and underclothes for them, no?”

Faramir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed wearily. “The wives of those that are married and who are here with them, perhaps, but as for the rest… As I have explained to you several times already, Dúrion, there is little distinction in elvish society, whether by gender or rank.”

The expression on Dúrion’s face left no one in any doubt of what he thought of such a state of affairs.

“I cannot possibly cordon off a whole washing stoop for an entire day, or even for the entire duration of our guests’ stay, so that elvish lords can strip themselves to their hose and give the good ladies of Minas Tirith something to gawp at and gossip over!”

Dúrion’s voice was threatening to rise a good octave in indignation at the very thought, though he was doing his best to hiss this through his teeth so that the elves in the vicinity (all within earshot even for a human) would not hear him.

Penny noticed Lindir glance in her direction at this point and snigger. She glared at him.

“Really, Lord Faramir, it is of no consequence,” Glorfindel murmured, trying to placate the situation. “As you say, it is really only some of the Galadhrim that seem a little… wary of mortals washing their things for them.”

“They will take great care with them, I can assure you,” Dúrion pointed out, bowing his head slightly in deference and to show he meant no offence, was merely trying to be practical.

“I am sure they will,” Glorfindel inclined his head a little in return, “But you have to understand that some elves are…

‘Fussy? Vain? Obsessive about their appearance?’ Penny thought to herself. ‘Take your pick of those or half a dozen others.’

“Glorfindel, are you going to explain to Erestor that some young mortal woman he has never met is to wash his breeches for him?” Lindir looked as if he, for one, certainly did not want to be the one to tell him. “Or Rhimlath for that matter? Or a dozen others I could name?”

“What is this? Do you have washing too, my lords? Oh, well, do not worry yourselves about it, just hand it to me and I will get it dealt with.”

The servant woman was back from the Citadel and busily taking charge of the situation without so much as a ‘by your leave.’ She made a quick, deferential nod in the direction of Faramir even as she carried on talking.

“Now, now, do not be shy!” (Lindir had instinctively grabbed the basket at the same time as she had bent to pick it up, but she pulled it out of his grasp). “Do you think I have never washed a pair of hose before? Stuff and nonsense! I am a married woman who has brought five sons into this world. Who is it who keeps the armies of Gondor in clean breeches but the womenfolk back at home, and no mistake!”

She laughed heartily, even while the four males raised eyebrows at such frank and open discussion of undergarments. Dúrion was looking very dark indeed.

“Now look here, my good woman...!” he spluttered, but there was no interrupting her. She did not even register that he had spoken to her.

“We shall take good care of your fine brocades and linens, have no fear. Who shall I send these back to?”

“Er… Lords Glorfindel and Lindir,” Lindir faltered, looking utterly bewildered.

“Very good, my lords. I will send servants to the various male quarters to collect the rest then, shall I, my lord Faramir?”

At the same time as Faramir opened his mouth to speak, the woman nodded curtly at him with a broad smile as if acknowledging his agreement before he had even had time to answer. Then she immediately turned and strode off briskly with the basket under her arm.

“Come along, mi-ducks!” she called out to the waiting females who smirked and sniggered in Glorifindel’s and Lindir’s direction before tripping along behind her.

“Ah… well… I suppose that settles that.” Faramir could not look have looked more embarrassed if he had tried.

Only now did Dúrion venture to suggest that the stoop beside the barracks in the first level might have been suitable.

“Given it is sometimes used by the troops, though of course even they have washerwomen who do most of their…” He trailed off as he saw the hard look Faramir was giving him. “But, my lord, noblemen such as these… to have to walk all that way with their... and to be in such a lowly…” He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly in resignation. “Shall I go and fetch back that basket from Mílves?”

“If you please, Dúrion,” said Faramir through clenched teeth.

The stoop Mílves led them to (after Dúrion had caught up with her to take back the washing, breathless and wheezing after jogging down the slope to the sixth circle and nearly careering into the guards at the bottom, and even then Mílves would not relinquish it without some argument) was in the fifth circle. It was set inside a courtyard that you got to through either one of two little side lanes off the main thoroughfare, and positioned at the far south side of the circle. It was almost up against the sheer cliff that formed the bridge between the city and the mountain and which was as high as the sixth level at this point, with Fen Hollen almost directly above. The stoop itself was much like the one in Bree, with open sides and a flat, broad roof on pillars. Water trickled through a hole at one end and pooled into a broad, stone-cut channel, on either side of which were angled slabs and steps that reached into the water.

They got down to work.

Several other ellith were already there as well as quite a few locals. Penny ignored the raised eyebrows from the Gondorian women at her using soap. She had long ago got used to everyone thinking it was unnecessary, wasteful and bizarre but was not about to stop any time soon, no matter what anyone else said.

The locals were sociable and chatty, even if they spoke only Westron. Of course, the fact that Penny was human but could speak only Sindarin where most of her elvish counterparts could converse quite happily with the Gondorians was not commented on, but certainly noted as a ‘novelty’ (for which read ‘downright peculiar’).

Of course, this sociable morning was positively boring compared to the events surrounding the stoop in the first circle that the ellyn were using.

Some bright spark got wind of who was doing their washing there and let slip that one or two windows in the barracks overlooked it. Lo and behold, within less than an hour, several sisters, daughters, sweethearts, and even wives immediately developed a burning desire to visit their brothers, fathers, beaus, or husbands (even if they were on duty and absent from the barracks at the time), on the pretext of having some urgent news that could not wait, or a seedcake they simply had to bring while fresh, or to ask if they could borrow the mule tomorrow week to visit their aunt in Lebennin.

They brought their friends with them, too.

Fortunately the officer in charge of the barracks (admittedly more by accident than design) happened to waylay the first group that tried this while on their way up the stairs, much to their bitter disappointment.

However, by the time the third such gaggle of women had arrived (including a few who had been denied access once already and had returned with what they thought might be a more believable excuse this time), he smelt a rat and decided guards were to be kept at all entry points to the stoop or anywhere near it. Dúrion happened to be there at the time of this third attempt and exploded, sending the troop of young women away tearful and with fleas in their ears (though this was as nothing compared to the response of the fathers, brothers, beaus and husbands when they heard about it).

The ellyn, hearing the shouting and seeing the sentries, guessed what was up and decided it might be more politic to rely on the washerwomen after all in future, for as both Elrohir and Legolas pointed out, they did an excellent job, and if the King’s garments could be trusted with them then why not elvish ones? Not only that but, as Dúrion had tried to make clear, it was indeed a long way to walk through the streets with wet leggings under your arm.

There were still a determinedly belligerent few who insisted they would do their own laundry in the nearest washroom to their lodgings, though. Tunics were one thing, even undertunics perhaps, but having a strange female rifling through your breeches was really too much to ask of an ellon. For one or two (invariably Galadhrim), even letting someone else wash their tunics was too much. “This embroidery is four months’ worth of work on the sleeves alone! The idea of letting some fat fingered mortal fishwife paw at it…! It’s unconscionable!” Fortunately for those few, enough ellith volunteered to wash their tunics for them and peace was restored (and Dúrion could finally have a lie down in a darkened room to recover from the migraine).

It was lunchtime by the time Penny, Mireth, Eleniel and the others had got back from the stoop. Mílves met them and let them know they could hang out their washing on lines in the little yard at the back of the lodging house.

“No one can overlook this place, never you fear, so you can hang out your undershifts without worrying. Not like the time my sister found some lovesick youth had been stealing her undershifts from off Mother’s washing line! Oh, my dears! Have you ever heard of such a thing! Of course, she married him in the end, but I always said her husband was never quite right in the head …”

(Penny decided, once the prattling had been translated by a fairly appalled Eleniel, that Mílves was definitely good entertainment value.)

There was no formality to lunch, though the Great Hall was made available for all the guests to use. At around midday most people wandered over to it to find a fine spread laid out and servants bustling in and out with trays of food and drink. It was mainly elves and Dunedain, though a number of Gondorians nobles were there to play ‘host’. Faramir was there, as well as the highest ranking advisors in the court. There was no sign of Aragorn or Arwen.

Penny, Mireth and Eleniel had met Pippin and Merry on the steps outside. Pippin had been on duty all morning and was taking the opportunity of a change in shifts to have a quick bite to eat with his cousin.

Lindir was seated on the opposite side of the Hall with Halladan, Arvain and Celebdor. He waved at them to come and join them. A few minutes later Frodo and Sam appeared, along with Legolas and Gimli. Servants brought cushions for the hobbits to sit on, and the conversation was bright and cheery, though there were slight hiatuses every now and then as Sindarin was translated for some of the hobbits or Westron translated for Penny.

Halladan was looking a little pale and worse for wear.

“One too many last night?” Celebdor laughed.

Halladan shook his head wearily, a rueful grin on his face. “Mixing wine and mead was not a good idea. I am paying the price for it today. My head is still pounding.”

“Do you not have anything for it?” Penny asked.

“Oh, it will pass,” Halladan replied with a dismissive gesture and a smile.

The hobbits were desperate to know how Bilbo was faring, what he had been up to, how their journey had been, what they had made of Lothlorien and Rohan, and Sam was busy quizzing Celebdor about the gardens at Imladris.

“Oh, your cabbages came out very well, Ban. Naurdir was delighted.”

“I should hope so too, amount of time I spent on them before we left you all. I am so glad old Bilba is well. I cannot wait to see him.”

“He will want the tale told in full and in detail, I should not wonder.” Frodo sighed, smiled and shook his head.

“He was often thinking of you,” Penny said. “He might not have mentioned any of you by name, but sometimes I would catch him staring south-east, lost in his thoughts. I know he wondered how you fared, and he was so relieved and pleased when word came from Aragorn that you were all safe and well.”

“And you looked after him, like we asked you to, I am sure.” Merry smiled.

“As if Bilba ever needed looking after!” Lindir laughed. “Trust me, Kali, the day we left Imladris he was standing on those steps seeing us all off with a very determined look about him. I have no doubt whatsoever he will have considered himself lord of the place while we were all gone.”

“He will have run them ragged by the time we return.” Eleniel was laughing also.

“Yes, well, I suspect your request was a more a deceit to get Bilba to look after me in your stead rather than the other way about, was it not, Kali?” Penny smiled at the hobbit who looked a little shifty as Frodo translated.

“Not at all,” he muttered, looking sheepish, and then occupied himself with piling his plate with cold meats and cheese.

“Well, I must say your Sindarin has improved immensely.” Frodo beamed at Penny. “It seems a long remove from when I was testing you over the breakfast table each morning. I dare say there is the odd word or two you could teach me now.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Of course, the next step is Westron, which I am utterly awful at.”

“Practice, practice.” Frodo wagged a finger at her. “That and vocabulary. Perhaps we should meet each morning and start testing you on Westron, since it served you so well with the Sindarin.”

The appalled expression on Penny’s face met with loud laughter, and only seemed to make Frodo that much more determined.

“Oh, there is no stopping him once he is set on something,” Pippin piped up with a grin. “He has proved that well enough. There is no stopping a kuduk.”

It was Frodo’s turn to shift uncomfortably.

“And we will help,” Arvain offered. “From now on, no Sindarin with the Dunedain.”

“What!” Penny looked at Frodo. “You see what you have started!” He laughed.

After only a short while, Pippin had to rush back to duty and so made his apologies and disappeared.

“I thought he said there had been a change of shifts?” Mireth looked confused.

“He is doing double today because of having the day off yesterday,” Sam explained through a mouthful of cold roast duck. “Would have done duty yesterday only Aragorn insisted against it. So he insisted just as much that he be allowed to make up for it today.”

“He is so taken with King Elessar and being a Citadel Guard, I sometimes wonder if he will want to come home with us at all!” Merry laughed.

“Oh, do not say that, Kali,” Frodo remonstrated gently. “He loves Sûza just as much as you do. We all miss it too much not to want to go home.”

As the meal progressed, inevitably the subject of the clothes washing came up.

“Such a fuss about nothing!” Penny retorted.

“I quite agree.” Arvain was hacking off a huge hunk of bread at Merry’s request. “I am glad to have someone else wash my clothes for a change.”

“And the women here do an excellent job,” Halladan pointed out.

“Tell that to Rhimlath,” Lindir muttered.

“Oh, Rhimlath is just being ridiculous. I washed Halbarad’s leggings and undershirt for him and I had only known him a day.”

“You had been wearing them yourself, though, Pen-ii,” Lindir pointed out.

“And so had he, judging from the stink of them,” she replied, pulling a face.

There was laughter round the table.

“You should consider yourself fortunate he even had a spare set of clothes to give you, Pen-ii.” Lindir chuckled. “Halbarad was one of the old generation who believed in living very simply while rangering.”

“Ah, now, Lindir, that is a little harsh,” Arvain interjected. “Any ranger’s life is a frugal one. Carry no more than you absolutely need, and fetch the rest from the land as you require it. Father was no different to any other Dunadan.”

“There are a few of you that travel with salt, soap and comb, though.”

“A ranger with soap!” Halladan looked outraged.

Penny grimaced at him. “Ewww!” The others laughed.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “A fresh stream is all you need, trust me.”

Penny opened her mouth to say something but decided against it.

“I think Pen-ii would disagree with you on that point.” Merry smirked.

“Even an ellon needs to wash after a while,” Mireth pointed out.

“Ah, well, now, hold hard,” Lindir protested. “It is not exactly equivalent.”

“Are you saying that elves never break into a sweat, Lindir?” Penny looked sceptical.

“I did not say that…”

“Or pick up the smell of horses or damp leather, or what if you fell in a bog or-or-or…” She searched for another example. “Or orcs! You have all told me how much they stink, and you were washing your hands pretty thoroughly after that time in the mountains…”

“Blood stains tunics if you do not deal with it well and quickly,” Celebdor interrupted.

“Oh, please! You reeked of scented oil for the rest of the day – it was the stink as much as anything else you were trying to get rid of!”

“Are you saying men stink?” Arvain looked highly amused.

“No. Well… not all the time. But after a few weeks of not seeing a bar of soap they will, yes.”

There was muttered agreement from every elf and hobbit there. Arvain and Halladan raised their eyebrows at them all.

“It’s all the hair,” Lindir said decisively. “I’ve been saying that for centuries.”

Eleniel gasped and slapped his shoulder before collapsing into giggles.

“Anyone would stink after a few weeks without washing. Even elves, contrary to what they might say.” Penny looked hard at Lindir. “Why else were you all obsessively diving in and out of rivers all the way here?”

“I am not listening!” Lindir was staring at a gilded carving of lilies in the roof beam.

“Even Legolas here was glad to get to Lothlorien and have a proper wash,” Merry chipped in as Frodo translated for him.

Legolas choked into his wine and tried to look outraged.

“She sounds just like an elf,” Halladan mumbled through a mouthful to his brother, waving a spoon in Penny’s direction.

“She does.” Arvain nodded. “You have been spending too much time in Imladris, Pen-ii, that much is very clear.”

“Not at all,” Mireth interrupted. “Pen-ii arrived already complaining your father stank, I seem to remember.”

“Indeed?” Halladan looked at Penny, his face stern.

“Oh, well, now, I would not go that far, Mireth,” Penny stammered, looking rather flustered. “We were both pretty ripe after the journey.” She threw Halladan an apologetic look.

“I was jesting with you, Pen-ii.” He laughed. “As you say, several weeks in the wild, even with only river washing, will leave you wanting a hot bath and a change of clothes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Does it, indeed?” Legolas raised an eyebrow.

“However, I still say you do not need a comb while travelling.”

There were protests from the elves. Penny joined in. Arvain agreed that a comb hardly took up any space, but Halladan was adamant that a comb in a pack was the start of a very slippery slope.

“A little salt is one thing, and even soap I could possibly allow, but when you First Born start talking about combs and bottles of scented oil and three pairs of spare hose, it becomes ridiculous.”

“Ah, there my brother has a point,” Arvain nodded. “I mean, a troll is not going to care what you smell like or if your hair is neat.”

“That is beside the point!” Celebdor retorted.

“It is the principle of the thing,” Legolas added hotly, before turning to glare at the hobbits who were sniggering into their fruit.

The banter continued in much the same vein till at last everyone made moves to leave.

The hobbits were trying to see if they could wheedle one last cheese out of the servants. Legolas was filling Celebdor in with the news he had received from home as he finished his cup of wine.

“A good part of it burnt, they say,” his face was deadly serious as he spoke, “and many fell. But then we had our fair share of damage here, did we not? It was to be expected. It is fortunate not more was lost. How fared Lothlorien? I have not had a chance to speak to the Galadhrim in any detail about it all.”

“Oh, not so badly, perhaps. Damage to the borders, and they lost many, but at least Eryn Lasgalen is cleared, or will be soon. Your father’s realm is greater than ever.”

“There is still much to do. Too long has darkness held sway over the forest.”

“In time the light will reclaim it. It has already begun, I am sure.”

“Indeed. We must not lose sight of that. I hope to return as soon as I may.”

“And I with him,” Gimli interrupted. “Our paths lie in the same direction, after all, but first I have promised him a visit to the caves in Rohan. Never seen anything more beautiful in my life…” He hesitated. “Well, except one, perhaps.” He glanced up to across the Hall where Galadriel was listening politely to something Faramir was saying to her.

“It gladdens my heart to see a dwarf and elf so close,” Celebdor said with a smile, his gaze flicking between Legolas and Gimli. “Too long there has been wariness between our peoples. Of course, we often have dwarves pass by Imladris, as well you know, but there has always been… well… how shall I put it…?”

“A certain mistrust?” Gimli’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Yes, I would agree with you there, Master Elf. But in Legolas here, I find all that is noble and true in your race, and I was proud to bear my axe beside his bow. You make noble warriors, you elves, far hardier than I had ever realised.” Celebdor inclined his head a little in acknowledgement of the compliment. “Lothlorien was a wonder to me. Once I could see the kindness, the beauty, the inherent goodness in that place, then I knew that no Elf such as her or who held her dear could bear malice towards me and my kin. Let bygones be bygones, I said. Which is not to say Lord Elrond and the elves of Imladris were not most courteous to us also,” he added hurriedly.

“The Lady was most gracious to him,” Legolas said. “A gift was given to him that no Elf could dream of receiving. He was shown a great favour.”

“Indeed?” Celebdor was intrigued.

“Now, you keep my private business private, Elf,” Gimli muttered at Legolas. “What was shared between her and me remains my affair, and I like to keep it that way.”

Legolas chuckled.

“It is no laughing matter!”

“I know, I know.” Legolas tried to straighten his face. “I understand, my friend.”

“Good.” Gimli glanced at him slightly suspiciously and then stomped off to see if he could track down Gandalf.

“It is no secret given the Lady herself has already made reference of it since she arrived here and where others might overhear,” Legolas murmured. “It is his keepsake and he is a little sensitive about it, that is all. Estel knows, of course. Suffice it to say that if word ever travels West and reaches the ears of some who reside in Mandos’ Halls, Feanor will not be pleased.”

Celebdor raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Oh?” He blinked at him.

Penny, who understood this last part, sniggered quietly to herself. She looked up to see Legolas had an eyebrow raised in her direction and a soft smile on his face. She grinned back at him and he laughed.

Lunch was long finished by the time that, one by one, those that remained finally got up to leave. Halladan winced slightly each time a wooden bench squeaked against the marble.

“Still have that headache? I have some herbs for use against pain in my pack. Mireth gave me to them before we left in case I needed them.” Penny mentioned their name and Halladan nodded, recognising the powdered tree bark she was talking about. “I can fetch you some if you would like.”

“No, no, do not trouble yourself…”

“Oh, it is no trouble. I have plenty to spare.”

He hesitated for a second and then, as Lindir and Arvain, who both standing right beside him, roared with laughter over some quip Eleniel had just made at Celebdor’s expense, he winced and nodded.

“Yes, perhaps I will. Thank you. That is most generous.”

As they made their way out into the sunshine and started across the courtyard, Penny glanced across towards the battlement that stood at the top of the pinnacle of rock.

“Halladan, would you mind? Could I just go and see the view?”

“But of course.” He smiled, and they made their way slowly towards it.

It was the first time Penny had really had time to stop and take stock of her surroundings, and she could not resist this opportunity. Before they reached the far end and the embrasure with the stone seat set below it, she stopped, turning to look back towards the Tower of Ecthelion and the tall, snow-capped peak behind it, the snow bright in the summer sun.

“Beautiful,” she breathed.

“Is it not? It was quite something to see it at last. I had heard of it, even seen pictures in Imladris, but pictures never truly do such a thing justice.”

Of course, this place held some kind of historical significance for him as a Dunadan, Penny reminded herself.

The view from the opening in the wall was every bit as astonishing as Penny might have hoped. There before her was all the Pelennor, with even the Ramas Ecchor visible at points as a distant, grey line (utterly belying the height or width of it up close). Osgiliath was a faint blur only really visible thanks to the glint of the river that was blocked out at that point. The mountains of Mordor loomed large and clear, cutting straight across her view and filling the horizon. Between them and the river were woods and thicket-covered hills. She tried to see if she could spot Minas Morgul from this distance, but could make nothing out in the gloom of the mountain peaks, though it would not have surprised her if an elf standing next to her might have been able to make it out.

She glanced northeast to where the mountains came to an abrupt end and realised, with a sudden jolt, that she was looking at the place where Hirvell died, where many had died, indeed, judging from some of the snatches of overheard conversation last night.

That thought immediately brought her eye nearer to home and to the Pelennor once more.

From her vantage point the lines of the trenches the enemy had dug were clearly visible in several places, and once you had got your eye in you could make out the concentric lines of them pretty clearly by connecting up the patches of bare earth, the raised lines of grass-covered earthworks, or even where a swath of trees had been felled to make way for them on occasion. The ruins of farmsteads were visible, too. It was clear the number of farms on the Pelennor had not been numerous, but that few within Penny’s range of sight had escaped some sort of damage. When she had ridden through it, she had been able to see only what was visible from the road. Now she was left in no doubt as to how extensive the damage had been over the whole Pelennor, getting progressively worse towards the city. There was a whole patch of blackened tree trunks less than half a mile south just for a start.

She could not help but wonder where, in all of this lot, Halbarad had met his end.

And yet, in amongst the ruin, carts and wains made their inexorable course down tracks or along the main roads leading to any one of the three gates in the wall. Lone riders could be spotted, no doubt carrying messages to sentries; even walking travellers, one switching a mule loaded with baggage, were coming and going. There were cattle in a few fields, builders at work restoring the roof timbers of a nearby barn, and smoke from the odd chimney still intact.

Life continued, in spite of the loss.

It was faintly surreal.

“Pen-ii?” Halladan interrupted her thoughts.

She glanced at him.

“While I have this opportunity to talk to you alone, I think I should tell you… That is, well, my father… he told me a lot about you.”

“Yes, I realised.”

“No, I mean… I mean that he told us all about you, about who you were, where you came from: your entire story. He perhaps spoke to me more than he did to Hirvell and Arvain, but we all knew the basic facts of what went on in the questioning of you in Imladris.”

“Oh.” Penny blinked at him. “Oh. I see.” She smiled weakly and looked away.

“I just thought I should tell you that Arvain and I know, and I want you to feel you can talk openly to us, just as you would have been able to with Father.”

Penny glanced at him once more and saw him smiling kindly at her. She returned his smile.

“Thank you, Halladan. I am glad he told you. It does… make things easier, though I do not doubt you find it strange.”

“I do. I did. However, my father believed it to be the truth, and that was enough for me to believe it and for Hirvell and Arvain to believe it also. That Elladan and Elrohir knew and did not doubt your story helped, of course, when he first told us, let alone to then learn that Aragorn and Mithrandir knew as well.”

“Lindir knows also. I told him in Lothlorien. He had become too close a friend and had guessed something was not all the others were saying it was.”

Halladan nodded. “Yes, Legolas told me.”

Good grief! Clearly her ears had been burning! Penny wondered if there had been get-togethers amongst them all here in the south speculating what she might or might not have known about in advance. Given what Halbarad had heard her say about Moria, they would have probably realised how detailed her knowledge was. What must they have thought?

She felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach.

Apparently, her concern showed in her face because Halladan tried to reassure her.

“It must have been hard for you, to have such knowledge.”

She nodded, saying nothing and staring out at the Pelennor, at the damage that seemed all too visible suddenly, with memories of the few men she had seen even at yesterday’s festivities with eye patches, or on crutches, or with one sleeve of a tunic pinned to their sides running through her head. She thought of the man standing beside her, one hand holding the top of his stick, and considered the obvious difficulty he was having dealing with the loss of his brother and father.

She felt her throat tighten.

Halladan was gauging her reaction to all this. He had wanted to talk to her that first night they had arrived, but she had left so early from the meal, and yesterday had been out of the question. She had that same air about her she had had at that first supper all of a sudden. It was clear, just as Mithrandir had agreed when Halladan had spoken to him, that she had a lot of unresolved anxiety if not distress. Nor did Halladan blame her in the least. He just hoped his instincts were correct and she was already warming to him as a friend so that he could be a help to her if she needed it, and could provide the support and protection he had promised his father he would give her in his stead.

“Shall we sit?” he said gently, indicating the stone bench below the embrasure’s sill.

Penny nodded. They sat side by side for a little while, saying nothing. Penny did not feel she needed to say anything, rather she sensed that he did not require her to explain or talk in the least if she did not wish to. She was grateful to him for not making her feel awkward or pressured.

“Raz looked at this view the first day he arrived here. He sat on this same seat with Beregond.”

Halladan looked at her, astonished. “You know of Beregond?” Beregond was no longer resident in the city, so there was no way she could know who he was or anything of him.

“Of course. His love for Faramir, his spilling of blood to gain access to the Domes of the Dead, as well as the justice and kindness with which Aragorn dealt with him for his transgression...” She looked at him. “You said you knew, Halladan. There is no need to look quite so surprised.” She made a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

“Yes, I know, but to hear it…”

“I realise.” She fell back into silence once more for a moment. “Raz became very good friends with his son, Bergil, did he not?”

Halladan chuckled, shaking his head, as if utterly unable to find an appropriate response.

She was staring at the Pelennor once more. “I just wonder if… I mean, I know there was no other way, but…” Why was she telling him this? She barely knew the man. “When I see the damage done…” Her throat was tight again, her hand gripping the stone sill so tightly Halladan could see her knuckles whiten. She slowly blew outwards, looking to the sky in a bid to keep herself under control.

“Mithrandir’s advice is never to be gainsaid, Pen-ii. I know my father trusted his decision, and understood the reasoning for it completely. He agreed with it.” He paused, waiting for her to look at him. “I know you know that. He understood and would never have asked you to tell him anything.”

“It got pretty hard with the Balrog. I regretted saying anything. I should not have told them, because it worried them terribly and there was nothing they could do.”

“Perhaps. But it is past, no? What is done is done. Life moves on. See?” He gestured at the Pelennor. “They are rebuilding and living their lives. That is as it should be.”

“And you, Halladan?”

“Me?”

He looked at her, feining ignorance of what she might be referring to, but saw in her look a depth of understanding of his predicament that made him feel uncomfortable.

He said nothing and looked away.

“May I ask..? About your leg…? Is it very badly damaged?”

He glanced down at his thigh. “Yes. But it will heal with time, or should do. You can never be wholly sure, of course. The last of the bandages came off a few weeks ago, but I still get pain and stiffness. Likely will for the rest of my life. I was fortunate, perhaps, that it was not a cutting weapon that caught me or else I could now be completely lame, though there were spikes on that club that did a fair bit of damage. Had it been a sword or axe I might well have lost my leg completely, if not with the initial blow then at the hands of the healers soon afterwards.”

Penny looked at him with horror.

“Yes, I am fortunate, Pen-ii. I have much to be thankful for.” He sounded rather like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was her. “Many suffered far worse.”

She nodded. “I am sorry.”

“What for?”

“Your leg.”

“Oh, there’s no ne-”

“For everything.”

They looked at each other for a moment till Penny dropped her gaze to stare at her hands in her lap while Halladan found himself focusing on the high snows on Mindolluin.

“Come.” Halladan pushed himself up with his stick and held out his hand. “What about those herbs you promised me? We cannot sit here all day and this bright sunlight is not helping my head in the least.”

“True.” She took his hand, returning his smile, and stood up. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive.”

They made their way over to her lodgings, Halladan waiting at the door while Penny went up to fetch the powdered bark and return. As they wandered over towards the buttery so Halladan could get some honey and freshly boiled water to use to make it up into a drink, Pippin came trotting up to them.

“Ah, there you are, Pen-ii. Halladan, would you mind translating? I have been sent to find you, Pen-ii. The King is asking for you.”

She knew what this was about. The tight ball of anxiety hit the pit of her stomach once more.

“Oh, thank you, Raz.” She could manage that much in Westron.

She made to follow him as he turned to head off, then stopped and looked back at Halladan. “Would you come with me? I know they will wish to talk about… I would like you to be there.”

“No, no. Not without being expressly invited. It would not be appropriate.” He smiled. “There is no ill-feeling towards you, Pen-ii. I know you need to hear that from them, but do not be apprehensive.”

She did not look convinced.

“I need to go and take this.” He shook the tub of powder at her. “I will come and wait for you so that I may return it to you.”

There was no need for him to wait for her to give it back straight away. He could return it at any time. She knew it and he knew it. She had said as much when she had given it to him. Still she appreciated him saying he would be there waiting for her once she was done, and knowing that he would be outside afterwards helped to calm her nerves a little. She suspected (rightly) that he had offered to do it for precisely that reason. She thanked him.

As she turned to follow Pippin to the Hall and royal chambers on the other side of the Tower of Ecthelion, Halladan watched her for a few moments. He wondered if he should have mentioned his father’s dying words just now. He had had plenty of opportunity.

And yet… something had held him back. ‘Not yet,’ he had told himself.

Perhaps he did not want to relive that moment, worried what it might bring back or how he might react. He barely knew her, and could ill afford to… Or was it that he felt it was too much for her to take right now, given how she was clearly reeling from being here at last, and still in need of reassurance from those who had guided her before the War? Perhaps it was a little of both? No matter. It could wait, would have to wait. They had time enough, time for him to get to know her better and assess how best to tackle the moment when it came.

Please be advised that on consultation with The Sindarin Language Bods of The Interweb, I have discovered that ‘ellyth’ as the plural of ‘elleth’ is incorrect. Mea culpa, and my apologies. In the plural ‘e’ lenates to ‘i’, so it’s ‘ellith’ not ‘ellyth’. ‘Ellyn’ as the plural of ‘ellon’ is correct, though. As and when I can find the time, I will go back and change all the uses of ‘ellyth’ to ‘ellith’, but since this fic is now posted at four different places, it will be a lot of work, so I am sure you will forgive me if this doesn’t happen right away. Just to let you know, though. My sincere thanks to everyone who helped me get to the bottom of this, and in particular dreamingfifi of the Real Elvish website.

I would also like to thank surgicalsteel for all her detailed advice and help on battle injuries, wounds, and their various treatments, prognoses, complications and time scales, and in particular on helping decide on the nature of Halladan’s injury and how it would affect him in terms of movement and healing time, etc.

For those as might not know: it is said that Feanor, arguably the greatest elf and craftsman in history (and he who made the Silmarils and started the first kin-slaying and the whole reason for the Noldor coming back from Valinor in the first place) once asked Galadriel for some strands of her hair. Her hair was said to be astonishingly beautiful and may even have inspired Feanor to make the Silmarils in the first place. Galadriel refused him, even though he was close kin to her. Thus, Gimli was granted a gift that was truly astonishing for all sorts of reasons.

My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter done and posted. A difficult chapter coincided with exhausting real life stuff, I am afraid. Just to warn you, it is possible that future chapters may arrive slower than of late. I will endeavour to post when I can, but if there is a similarly lengthy delay at any time, then at least I have forewarned you. Sorry!

Chapter 26 - “Easier Said Than Done”

Penny felt very strange following Pippin. He was taking her on exactly the same route that she knew Gandalf had taken him that very first morning he had arrived in Minas Tirith. It was a distinctly odd experience to say the least.

The sentries were on the door to the Hall, just as Penny knew they would be. As she followed Pippin down the stone flagged corridor she noted that it was even more sonorous and grand that she had ever imagined it in her mind’s eye. However, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Pippin did not stop at the metal door that she knew opened into the huge, pillared room with the throne at the far end, but instead continued on past it. As much as she would have loved to have seen it, she had no desire to conduct whatever conversation was about to take place in such surroundings.

A couple of yards on from the door to the throne room, Pippin took a sharp left and then started up a stone staircase, the steps of which were worn smooth and clearly aged. At the top, Pippin turned left once more and led the way down a corridor that ran directly above the one they had just left. At the far end, he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. He knocked, throwing a grin up at Penny over his shoulder as he did so.

Gandalf came to the door.

“Ah, so you found her, then, Raz? Very good. Thank you.”

Pippin beamed, nodded at them both and stood back to let Penny past him.

“Thank you, Raz,” Penny murmured in Westron.

Gandalf also stood to one side, holding the door open for her and then shutting it behind her, leaving Pippin out in the corridor.

Penny found herself in an antechamber of a similar size to Elrond’s study in Imladris. Two tall windows opposite the door opened out onto a balcony which looked out over the south of the city. Aragorn was out on it, chatting quietly with Elrond as she came in. Glancing up at her arrival, they smiled and made their way through into the room.

A great fireplace was on the right hand side, the surround made of white marble. The floor, too, was marble, but of various colours to make geometric patterns. The bottom halves of the walls were dressed with wood panelling, intricately inlaid in a sort of a ‘trompe l’oeil’ design making it seem as if there were shelves and books, cupboards and bowls of fruit all at knee or hip height. The upper halves of the walls were hung with tapestries, mostly mirroring the view outside. The ceiling was made up of panels formed by ‘beams’ of carved stone. Each one had been plastered and then painted to make the ceiling seem like a sky. It started with a rosy dawn at the left, moving through a clear blue with the occasional cloud and ending in a dark night sky, studded with stars above the fireplace.

Penny stared in amazement.

It was a tad overblown for her tastes, admittedly, but it was still very impressive.

“Ah, Lady Pen-ii.” Aragorn smiled as he stepped into the room, a gold goblet in his hand.

Penny did her poor attempt at a half-curtsey-come-bow.

“Do not feel you have to stand on ceremony here, Pen-ii. No Gondorian nobles taking note of protocols at this moment. You are quite safe.” He grinned. “Please, sit.” He indicated a chair near the fireplace and then took a chair opposite hers.

“Pen-ii.” Elrond nodded at her in greeting, smiling, and came over to sit down next to her.

Just the three of them? Penny had expected more, though she was grateful if this was going to be it.

“I did ask Arwen if she would like to be here, but she felt it best we kept numbers to a minimum,” Aragorn was saying. “Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel also declined. However, I did insist Legolas should be here, given that your knowledge pertained as much to him as it did to Mithrandir or myself.”

He smiled gently as he spoke, making it clear he was trying to make her feel at ease. She appreciated it, even if the knot in her stomach was getting tighter with every passing second.

“Would you care for a drink, Pen-ii?”

“Oh, no, thank you, Gandalf.”

He raised an amused eyebrow in her direction. “It is fruit pulp and water. Do you really think we would be indulging in alcohol so early in the day?”

Penny flushed a little as the three chuckled slightly. She had seen the goblets in Aragorn’s and Elrond’s hands and had just assumed it was wine.

“Then, yes, thank you, I will. That would be most kind.”

Her goblet was also made of gold (and so heavier than she had expected), and the drink itself seemed to be apricot or peach pulp mixed with water. It was very refreshing. Penny said as much, Elrond agreed and Aragorn explained that there were some fruit orchards still left standing on the Pelennor, but really the best fruit came from Lebennin.

The gentle small talk filled a few seconds.

In the meantime, there came a knock at the door and Gandalf once more went to answer it, clearly enjoying his role as impromptu ‘general factotum.’

It was Legolas, as expected. He was soon armed with a fruit juice as well and then found himself a chair and placed it next to Aragorn’s, opposite Penny. Gandalf seated himself between her and Aragorn. Then after a minute or two the idle pleasantries and chit chat died away and for a moment there was silence.

Now she was here Penny had no idea what to say. Everything and nothing, it seemed. It suddenly felt so ridiculous, to have all this fuss made over something which was in the past, which no one could change. Not only that, but whatever she might have gone through was as nothing compared to anything the four individuals seated round her had endured and witnessed in their lives.

She was painfully aware of that, and it only added to her sense of foolishness.

“So,” Gandalf said at last. “I realise you wished to talk to me, to us, indeed. I have been looking forward to seeing you once more, and was most pleased Lord Elrond chose to bring you with him. I had a feeling he might.”

He gave one of his inscrutable glances in Elrond’s direction as he said this, and Elrond gave the merest hint of an eyebrow by way of reply.

“I was worried you might not remember me,” Penny said quietly, with enough of a hint of laughter in her voice to make it clear she considered herself ridiculous for having considered the idea.

“Oh?”

“Well, as the White you appeared more… distant, more removed from this world, from your former self…”

She noticed Legolas and Aragorn glancing at each other, vague smirks on their faces.

“Not so much now, but at first, yes, that was true,” Gandalf said. “I would not have forgotten a story as extraordinary as yours, though, Pen-ii. I might have thought I had dreamt it or foreseen it at first, perhaps, but never forgotten it.”

“Has it really been so hard with us that you yearned for Gandalf’s insight so much, Pen-ii?” Elrond’s tone was not admonishing, merely curious. He had a faint smile on his face.

“Oh, no! No, no, not at all! You have all been so very kind to me, and especially yourself, and Arwen, and Erestor and Glorfindel, those who knew…”

“Not Lindir? I had understood you two had become very good friends.”

“Well, I only told him in Lothlorien, Gandalf, indeed that was why I told him, because he was such a good friend. In truth I have not spoken much of it at all since we travelled. It has not really been possible with so many with us who knew nothing of my story… I have not spoken of it terribly much since the War ended, in fact.”

“Even before then, Pen-ii,” Elrond spoke quietly. “You spoke to me, and could talk freely with the few who knew if you so wished, but you were hampered both by your lack of Sindarin as well as… well, I think you did not wish to burden some of us, perhaps.”

He looked in Aragorn’s direction as he said this, and Aragorn nodded, understanding his meaning.

“Arwen told me she sensed as much from you, Pen-ii,”Aragorn said, “that you held back a lot of what you knew and felt in her presence, no doubt because you did not wish to worry her. Is that the case?”

Penny nodded, suddenly very interested in the contents of her goblet.

“I think the time before I was able to speak freely to Lord Elrond was the worst.”

For a moment she stopped speaking as the memory of that time flooded back: trapped in spiral of despair, knowing the inevitable result of what would happen, torn between wanting to do anything in her power to stop it and yet knowing the futility of such an action, let alone how dangerous it might be.

And Halbarad… always Halbarad…

Penny roused herself and struggled to remember what they had been talking about.

“She could sense, I am sure, that I was upset, but I did not want her to think it related to you. I did not want her to fear for you, to worry unnecessarily.”

She shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to explain in any detail how incredibly hard she had found it to try and mask her emotions all the time. Little did she know she had not been terribly good at it, and it had all been seen and guessed at the time. Thus all four sitting there knew well enough about it without her saying anything.

“After I had spoken to Lord Elrond, well, we did speak of it very briefly once. She told me she knew all would be well. She had foreseen herself as your wife, and how could that come to pass if any harm were to come to you?” She was aware of some movement and looked up to see Aragorn grinning and the other three exchanging surprised looks. “She never told you?”

“She told me, yes,” Elrond said. “A long time before, but I am surprised she told you. Not that it is of any consequence, indeed, but it shows how far she went to try and put you at ease in all this.”

“I am aware of that, Lord Elrond.” She felt somehow that the admission warranted the formal use of his title. “Queen Arwen showed me great kindness and understanding, sometimes without my even being aware of it till much later. Indeed, that one time we spoke of it, when I also sought to reassure her of the truth of her foresight, was never repeated. Instead she did her best to keep me busy and occupied with other matters. I know she spoke to Mireth and Eleniel also, since if it was not her keeping me busy then it was one of the others, or all three.”

The males smiled, aware this was just the sort of generosity of spirit and kind consideration for which the three ellith were well known.

“However, even then I felt… I knew the horrors still awaiting Maura and the rest of you, the battles, the death… It was still hard to bear.”

Her voice had become very quiet and she continued slowly, as if picking her words carefully while trying to exactly remember her pain and distress at the time.

“I cannot even begin to pretend I can know what each event was like for those involved.”

She deliberately kept her gaze lowered, not even looking at Aragorn, Legolas or Gandalf as she spoke. She felt she was somehow presumptuous to even speak of their experiences, what they had gone through.

“Not only have I never experienced such things, such violence and terror, but… it involves things I had never seen or really understood or even known to be true before I came here.” She paused. “Even so, the mind plays tricks. It fills in the gaps, often with things that are far from the reality, perhaps.”

She was still not looking at them.

“I felt so guilty, so… so helpless…”

She stopped, her throat suddenly tight.

“You had no reason to feel guilt, Pen-ii.” Aragorn spoke quietly, looking at her intently.

She did not answer him, just stared into the cup of juice in her lap.

“I am glad you took my advice, Pen-ii, and spoke in detail to Lord Elrond about what you knew.” If she had looked up at him she would have seen Gandalf smiling kindly at her. “It would not have been possible for you to carry such a burden by yourself.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

She did know. She had known at the time. It had been almost intolerable. Were it not for the support and affection shown to her back then, she was firmly convinced she would have gone completely round the twist. She was very tempted to confess as much to them - that it had nearly broken her - but restrained herself.

She little realised that they could clearly see and sense that she was fighting to hold it all back, willing herself not to collapse into a splurge of self-pity, bile and ranting. It was clearly all still very raw for her.

Not for the first time, glances were exchanged between the four males.

“She took some persuading, Mithrandir. Did you not, Pen-ii?” Elrond said gently.

“It was only because of the decision about the Dunedain. I had to wait. Had it not been for that I might have spoken to you before. Once that was done, then…”

“That is not strictly true, Pen-ii. Even then you did not speak to me fully. It was when you came to me about Halbarad that finally you told me everything, if you remember.”

Penny closed her eyes for a moment. Then she raised her head and looked at Aragorn, who was watching her with a steady, kindly gaze, one elbow resting lightly on an arm-rest.

“I am sorry.”

“What for, Pen-ii?” His voice was soft, without the slightest hint of anger or reproach.

“For Halbarad.”

She felt her lip wobble, but not from grief so much as at the thought of what his fall must have meant to Aragorn. What was it Halladan had said? That they had been like brothers?

“For not telling you. For not telling you about any of it.” Her gaze flicked between the three of them - Gandalf, Legolas and Aragorn – almost pleading. “I wanted to, but I knew that… I am so very sorry. I know it was selfish of me but since last we met I have feared your anger, feared that at every step you wondered if I had known, and what might have been if you had known in advance. I have worried about it all this time. And then I felt guilty for even thinking it, since I knew it was probably a dishonourable thing to think of you all after the assurances you had given me, and yet I would not have blamed you at all if such thoughts came to mind. How could they not when faced with… what you faced?”

Aragorn sighed and leaned forward, holding the goblet with both hands. He was silent for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, then looked back towards her.

“Pen-ii, I know Legolas has said this to you, and I can only repeat it. The promise that we made to you in Imladris was made with the full awareness that your foreknowledge was detailed, and detailed enough for you probably even to know the names of some that would fall, and they may include those we knew or would come to know and love. We told you then we would forgive you and not lay blame upon you no matter what came to pass. It was made in the hope that your silence was based on the knowledge that Sauron would fall. So it proved, and he did indeed fall. I stand by my promise. As does Legolas, I know. And not one who knows your position disagrees.”

“But, Aragorn, I knew.”

No one commented on her addressing him quite so familiarly, especially given he was now King, and no longer a ‘mere Ranger.’ Now was not the time, nor the situation. She needed to feel like she could talk freely – they had all agreed on that before they had called for her and it was why they had deliberately kept this meeting both as small and informal as possible.

“I knew about it all. About Moria, about Boromir, about everything Maura would face, the attack on Rohan…”

“Do you doubt my word?” He was not angry. “I know all of this, Pen-ii. Halbarad told us something of what little you had told him. Lord Elrond has since confirmed just how detailed your knowledge was. I mean what I say, Pen-ii. There is nothing to forgive. In other circumstances, perhaps, but given what was at stake you had no option. Nothing was worth risking what you knew the outcome to be.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Nothing.”

“Besides which, Pen-ii, would we really have believed you if you had told us what awaited us in Moria?”

Legolas had a point. She smiled thinly.

“No. No, probably not. I doubt you would have believed much of it, in truth.” She glanced at Elrond as she said this.

“I never said I did not believe you,” Elrond replied. “Indeed, I could sense you were in absolute earnest the entire time you spoke to me. I will admit I did wonder if there were parts that were lost in translation or by your limited means of communication, but any doubts I had in that regard were soon lifted when Estel sent word after the War, let alone when Elladan and Elrohir told me more once I saw them in Rohan.”

Penny nodded, almost to herself if anything, and then looked at Aragorn once more.

“Thank you. It means much to know that I have not upset or angered you by my actions.”

“How could I be angered when I knew you were acting on Mithrandir’s counsel? How could any of us?”

Which was true, and Penny immediately felt, again, that she was being foolish with all of this and perhaps even a little rude, and yet… Well, she was only human. She was only flawed, human Penny with all her foibles and wealth of ridiculous, mortal emotions, after all.

She glanced towards Gandalf, who was being particularly quiet. He just looked back at her with his soft, grey eyes. She realised she knew what he was thinking about. She did not know how she knew, only that she was certain she did.

What had that been like for him, to feel death, to feel mortality for an instant? There had been moments of that battle with the balrog he had not been able to speak of even to Aragorn, which had been too horrific or terrible for him to wish to dwell on.

“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “Please, Gandalf. I would have told you.”

He just held out his hand to her, a soft smile on his face, and she took it, with the very strong idea in her head that he was about to wink at her, though he did not. In that gesture, something gave way, some barrier that she had held up all these months. She was fighting back the tears all of a sudden. She had forgotten how kind and gentle he had been…

No, not forgotten. She had never forgotten, though perhaps she had not dwelt on it, since the gap it had left had been huge.

She had missed him.

“I would have told you everything. You know that. I offered to more than once. But I knew what the end would be, and I think you knew too. Or guessed. Or perhaps just hoped, I do not know, but I knew with certainty he would fall, that every piece, that every link, every step would lead to it, and that one thing out of place might easily put that at risk.” The strength of feeling in her tone took them all a little by surprise, though they did not show it. “There was that one time… I felt… You let me feel…”

She could not find a way to describe it, but it was clear Gandalf knew exactly what she was talking about because he nodded slowly.

“Yes, I let you feel something of the horror of him, the fear, the darkness that he was capable of generating in people’s hearts at the mere mention of his name. Perhaps you did not need to be shown that, but I felt it would do no harm to help make you understand why I was asking such a thing of you.”

“I already understood. I had already understood but, yes, that did help to strengthen my determination.”

She paused, her hand still in his, the others saying nothing, only watching, letting her say whatever she felt needed to be said. There was a tremor in her voice as she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It was just so very difficult, Gandalf.”

She briskly brushed away a tear on her cheek, almost in anger at having lost control.

Gandalf gave her hand a gentle squeeze and the others looked sympathetic. They had all heard Elrond, Erestor and Arwen speak at some length of how she had struggled to cope with her burden. Indeed, Halbarad had spoken long into the night about it when he had first journeyed south, with his sons as an audience as well as Aragorn and Legolas, of how concerned he had been about her ability to cope.

“Perhaps it is hard for you to understand but for me, for many like me, this story, the people in it,” she looked round at them for a moment, “all of you… it is like we know you. Of course we do not, but to those who know this story, we love it so, we feel for you, we… care. … I am sorry I am probably not making much sense.”

“Even those who never knew the ancient times can weep over the fall of Fingolfin or the sack of Doriath or the destruction of Gondolin,” Legolas replied. “I understand you completely.”

“Thank you, yes, that is it exactly. I felt as if I was walking every step with you, especially at first.”

“Why did you not speak to me sooner, Pen-ii? I could have saved you some distress.”

Gandalf let her hand slip from his as she turned in her seat slightly to face Elrond.

“Even when I told you about Moria, about the balrog, your and Halbarad’s first reaction was to think to send Glorfindel and others after them, was it not?”

Elrond said nothing.

“I bitterly regretted telling you that. It served no purpose other than to make you all worry terribly. It was stupid of me to tell you. Stupid and unforgivable to make you so alarmed when there was nothing you could do.” She did not notice the glances between the others and raised eyebrows at this harsh opinion of herself. “And then when the news came from Lothlorien…”

She fell silent. She had never forgotten Elrond’s fury with her on hearing of Gandalf’s fall.

“I still say you should have told me. I would have still sent the Dunedain south no matter when the news had come to me. Indeed the decision was never wholly mine. It was as much Halbarad’s and my sons. The advice of Dunedain, Glorfindel and many others was taken into consideration.”

“But I had to know that it was a decision made without my interference. If I had told you ‘this will happen’, and then you had sent them south because of what I had told you, not because of whatever was decided amongst yourselves entirely on the basis of the events themselves and Aragorn’s request, well, then I would never have known if you would have sent them anyway. I…” She swallowed hard. “It… It would have been me who sent Halbarad to his death, Elrond, I would have been responsible. Not only for him, but Hirvell also. I would have killed them both and maimed Halladan, and who knows who else? Do you not think I bear enough responsibility in all this without that on my shoulders as well?”

“Ah, so you would have me bear it on mine?”

Penny stared at him, blinking for a moment as the implication of Elrond’s question sunk in. He was straight faced and unsmiling, but not angry so much as trying to show her the fallacy of her argument, as well as the unintentional charge and insult she had laid against him.

“I-I am sorry. Forgive me, I should not… I did not mean that you… My point was that given I knew what would happen I was responsible, I am responsible for not trying to prevent any of it. That was my decision.” Gandalf opened his mouth to say something. “Yes, it was, Gandalf. I did not have to listen to your advice. I could have sat there and told you everything, even if you had stuffed your fingers in your ears. I had a choice: let things unfold as I knew they would with all that that implied, or else attempt to prevent at least some of the death and destruction but in so doing risk the fall of all Arda into despair and darkness. I cannot say I do not regret my choice, but at the same time I… I would make the same choice again.” This last phrase was said desperately slowly as if she was wringing it out of herself. “I had a choice between death and destruction or even more death or destruction,” she added, a bitter tone to her voice. “I would not wish such a choice on anyone.”

“Let me make one thing very clear, Pen-ii,” Aragorn’s tone, while gentle, was also deadly serious and firm. “You do not bear responsibility for a single death in any of this. Nor, might I add, does Lord Elrond, though I realise that was not at all what you meant to suggest just now. None of this is your doing. It is only Sauron who wrought this evil. Sauron and Saruman between them are entirely responsible for all that we have faced since we left Imladris.”

“I could have warned you. I chose not to.”

“It was the right decision.”

“Was it?”

“Absolutely. Sauron fell and that is something we barely hoped to achieve.”

“And if there was another way?”

“Ah, but was there?”

Gandalf’s voice broke through as a quiet rumble. It was less a question, more a hint that he understood the situation as well as Penny did if not better. She could see him looking at her intently through his eyebrows.

“No,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “Or at least not that I could think of, and I will admit I tried to think of a way over and over again till I was nearly driven mad by it.”

“You say you had a choice between a lesser and greater evil,” Gandalf continued, “and that is indeed true, of course, yet consider the commander of an army, or indeed any leader in a battle situation. He has various options, all of them dangerous, and any deaths that may result will rest on the decisions he made. Do you not think he carries guilt with him at such moments?”

Elrond had commanded in battle, as had Aragorn, and no doubt Legolas in his time in Mirkwood. Gandalf had not only made decisions regarding the Fellowship, and on the battlefield, but had been such a prime mover in all the affairs of the War and leading up to it that he had no doubt made decisions of a similar nature to Penny’s if not greater on more than one occasion.

Indeed, as this thought struck Penny she remembered how, when Pippin had come to tell Gandalf of Denethor’s madness and how Faramir must be saved, Gandalf had looked out onto the battlefield, knowing by saving Faramir he would not face the Witchking, but rather Theoden would do so, and would die.

Or how about Gandalf’s ‘meddling’ that had roused Smaug, and yet if he had not and Smaug had still been alive, the North would have burned (and Imladris with it) once the War had begun. Laketown had lost heavily for that act, though.

There were countless such examples, and all were examples when those responsible could, with every legitimate reason, feel themselves burdened by the weight of their decision and its consequences. Penny had not led people to battle, had not, in some senses, truly held the fate of people’s lives in her hands – it was all indirect, and who was to say that even if she had been utterly frank with what lay ahead of them that anything would have been changed or anyone saved who otherwise now lay in the cold earth. Her sense of guilt and responsibility was as nothing compared to what these four listening to her whinging on might feel let alone anyone else they fought beside or held power and sway over decisions.

Penny nodded slowly. “I had not thought of it in those terms. Forgive me. I must seem very foolish to you.”

“Not at all, Pen-ii. I do not say this to belittle your feelings, only to point out that we understand them completely, and do not blame you for them. When we stood before the Black Gates we had no way of knowing what our fate would be, indeed all seemed lost. We were hopelessly outnumbered. When I saw the evidence of Maura’s capture, I will admit that even I wavered for an instant, wondering if I had sent that gentle kuduk to a fate worse than death, let alone brought all those standing round me to the slaughter. Only for the merest instant, mind,” he wagged a finger, his eyes twinkling, “since if the Ring had been found we would have known it.”

“The Ring could have been stolen or lost on the way, and you would not have known.”

“That is true. You have a gift for pointing out the blackest of scenarios it would appear.” He smiled. “But even when I heard the terrible route Maura had taken, I could not despair. Something told me, deep within, that there was always hope no matter how dark things seemed. I will admit that your eager willingness to stay silent helped. Why would you be so willing when it would obviously be so difficult for you if the outcome were not a good one? Yes, you were responsible for your decision (though I would suggest that those who urged and insisted you stand by it were just as responsible, and that includes all four of us here in this room) but you are not responsible for the consequences of Sauron’s actions. You had little choice, in fact. As you say: it was either to allow much or risk everything. I know you understand that.”

She nodded. “As we say in my tongue: ‘caught between a rock and a hard place.’” She faltered. “To see it, though… To be here and see the result of it all…” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I had no idea… I mean I knew, but never really understood…” More tears fell. And for a moment she wept silently, struggling to maintain control of herself and failing completely.

“War is a dreadful thing, Pen-ii,” Aragorn said quietly, his face now as grim and serious as the others’. “But you must realise Gondorians are a strong people. They had long suffered and battled against this evil, and now that it is lifted they will not regret the losses, only celebrate their victory and the end to such long, dark times borne by countless generations. They will mourn and grieve, indeed they have done and still do, but they are grateful beyond measure that it was not worse. They understand only too well how close they came to defeat, how near a thing it was. Maura and Ban will be long remembered and honoured by us all.”

And Penny thought of the near indifference with which Maura’s deeds would be regarded in The Shire once he returned.

“‘A fool’s hope,’” Penny murmured. Gandalf raised an astonished eyebrow at her, but she did not notice. “In my time, those that know this story well, sometimes ask ‘what if’ of many parts of it. It is true we can bend the story to fit so that Sauron still falls, but if we are honest, if we are really honest, then we know the slightest thing will have such a great effect that it puts it entirely at risk. It was a very slim chance indeed that Maura would succeed, and it was only by the series of events as they occurred that it was possible. Perhaps by other events it may also have worked, but very likely not. Even without Gandalf’s insistence I knew I could not risk telling you.”

“Oh?” Aragorn could not help himself. He was intrigued.

“What if others had been in the Fellowship, such as a balrog-slayer like Glorfindel? What if other members of the Fellowship had gone to Mordor with Maura and Ban? What if Boromir had lived or Raz and Kali not been taken by the orcs, or Saruman not attacked Rohan…”

“Why is it said Glorfindel was not chosen?” Elrond interrupted quickly as Penny’s tone of voice rose higher and progressively more strained.

“It is generally thought that it was because he would have had difficulty concealing his nature to ones such as the Nazgul. Someone has powerful as that would have drawn attention to the Fellowship, especially if they had got as far as Mordor. Any great elf in the Fellowship would have done.”

“But not Gandalf or Aragorn?”

“Well,” she glanced at Gandalf, “certain people kept their power and true nature concealed till the time was right, but even they would have found it nigh impossible to sneak into Mordor undetected. Besides which they were travelling to Gondor, were they not?”

“I would have walked into the pit of Orodruin with Maura, Pen-ii,” Aragorn said, in a determined tone of voice that left no one in any doubt that he meant it absolutely.

“I know you would have. You all would have. That is why the Fellowship had to be broken. The decision had to be made for you.”

There was a brief silence.

“It was the only way. The only possible way Maura could enter Mordor was by secrecy. How best to do that with as small a number as possible? Even then he was thinking to go through the main gate. Secrecy till the last was the only way.” She looked at Gandalf. “You knew Gollum would play a part, and he did. Indeed without him Bara-dur would not have fallen.”

“He killed my people, Pen-ii.” Legolas was looking dark. “He killed my people and tried to lead Maura to his death.”

“Yes, and he also destroyed the Ring. Admittedly by accident, but that is not the point. He betrayed Maura, but not to lead him to Sauron but so he could have the Ring for himself. He lied under torture in Mordor, did you know that? That’s the strength of will he had, again, no doubt, because of his kuduk blood. It probably saved Maura’s life, in fact, because not until they reached Isengard did the Nazgul learn the true whereabouts of Suza. They would have got there a lot sooner otherwise.”

Legolas looked like he was struggling to find an appropriate response to this. His eyes gleamed with fury (though not particularly directed at Penny, that much was clear). He said nothing.

“Forgive me, Legolas, but no one could willingly destroy the Ring. No one.”

She glanced round at them, wondering whether this was news to them or not. Maura would have had to have told them, right? How else would he have lost his finger? One look at their faces told her that they knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Maura was incredibly brave,” Aragorn said quietly, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowing a little as he looked at her, as if daring her to suggest otherwise.

“I know. He achieved what few if any could achieve. Kuduk have a natural resilience to the Ring. Why or how is never fully explained, but this is in part how Gollum held it for so long, though the power of the Ring was very weak at that point also.”

Gandalf and Elrond looked at each other, and seemed to converse silently for a moment, expressing astonishment at the depth of knowledge show about such things in Penny’s time. She was not telling them anything they did not already know or surmised for themselves, admittedly, but it was certainly extraordinary to hear her talk like this.

“That Maura managed what he did is a testament to the strength and inherent goodness of kuduk. Not only that, but without Ban by his side…” She faltered a little once more, her voice wobbling suddenly as she felt the emotion well up from nowhere and without any warning at the mention of his name. “When the Fellowship broke, it was absolutely as it should be that Banazir be the only one to accompany him. Maura could not have done it alone. Ban was his support, literally. Indeed, for that brief time, carried the Ring and saved Maura.” She looked round at them all, her eyes wet with tears. “The strength of will it must have taken for him to hand the Ring back to him… As Sauron grew in strength, so did the Ring. Not only that but it grew more powerful with every step it came nearer to Mordor. For Ban to have the Ring, inside Mordor, and yet still willingly give it up…”

She shook her head, words failing her at that point to adequately describe her admiration for Sam, an admiration that had only strengthened since she had got to know him personally.

“It is clear that the knowledge you possess goes beyond the mere facts of the story,” Gandalf said after a moment. “Kuduk are indeed a special people.”

“You always knew as much. You knew they would have a part to play, even if they had hidden themselves away and knew nothing of the outside world.”

“Indeed I did, Pen-ii, though I could little have imagined it would be quite so spectacular.”

Penny did not respond. Her gaze had fallen to the floor, as if a thought had occurred to her that she was mulling over in her head.

“Pen-ii?” Elrond touched her arm. “What is it?”

She shook her head.

“Pen-ii?” Again, he was gentle but insistent. “We are here to help, to listen. You can speak freely.”

She lifted her head and looked straight at him. “Did you know no one could willingly throw the Ring in Orodruin?”

Elrond seemed slightly startled by the question. He looked at Gandalf and Aragorn before looking back at Penny.

“Well…” he began, a little hesitantly. “Well, we did suspect that perhaps-”

“So how, exactly, did you think Maura would achieve it?”

“I am not sure we ever thought that far ahead,” Aragorn said quietly.

Penny raised an eyebrow at him. With that many farsighted and wise people involved in the decision? She considered it highly unlikely.

“We could not know if he would even reach Mordor unscathed, let alone-”

“Kuduk are strong,” Gandalf interrupted Elrond. “As you yourself said, Pen-ii, they show a particular resilience to the Ring. Bilba and Gollum had both proved that to me, even though, as you say, the Ring was that much weaker when in their possession. I had a feeling that if anyone could achieve such a thing, it would be a kuduk, and if not a kuduk then no one. Hope was hanging by a mere thread, but it was worth taking that chance. It was that or simply let Sauron do as he wished. Like you we had a choice that was no choice at all: namely, between taking a hopeless action or no action. The foolish act was the only chance we had.” He paused. “No one forced Maura to go, nor was the suggestion made to him. He volunteered entirely without any prompting, though he little understood what faced him at the time.”

“Better that way, perhaps,” Legolas said quietly. “I feel sure he still would have insisted he be the one to do it, but he may have fallen into despair long before he reached his goal had he known what lay ahead.”

“We all have our decisions to bear responsibility for, Pen-ii,” Elrond said. “I know you know this. We discussed this a little at the time, I remember. None of us, now we have the gift of hindsight and Sauron is laid low at last and the Ring destroyed, would change anything done, said or acted upon. The dead will be mourned, and it grieves me sorely to have lost so many I loved so well, be they Dunedain or elf. Yes, Pen-ii, elves were lost in Lothlorien and Eryn Lasgalen, indeed even in Imladris as you well know. But we would rather have died than surrendered ourselves to the black darkness that would have consumed us otherwise.”

A fierce pride burned bright in Elrond’s eyes as he spoke, and Penny saw it mirrored in the others’ faces also. She had not doubted it for one second, of course, and did not need to be told, but it helped, perhaps, to hear it.

She was just a witness, a bystander, and yet… and yet she found it all desperately distressing, for so many different reasons, not least of which was the shock of war and its destruction.

Not for the first time she wondered if coming to Gondor and seeing it firsthand was such a good idea.

“You are allowed to feel grief and shock, distress and anger at all that has passed, Pen-ii,” Gandalf said, interrupting her thoughts as if reading them for himself. “No matter that you did not bear sword or axe, bow or knife. There are many who did not, many who stayed at home watching and waiting for news, or else tending to the wounded and the fallen. The, too have felt the heavy burden of such times. Some among them had foresight, made decisions on what to say and what to keep to themselves. You are mortal and… young. What you have been through is not easy, would not be easy for anyone, let alone one so unused to war and warriors.”

Penny nodded and attempted a grateful smile. They could tell she was not wholly convinced, however.

“I am still intrigued by the level of your knowledge, Pen-ii,” Legolas said brightly, no doubt trying to lift the mood a little. “Lord Elrond has told us much, but from what I understood you knew of the Council in great detail. Could it be you knew of our journey in equal detail?”

Even as Penny nodded, Elrond chimed in. “I did not doubt it for a moment. I believe Pen-ii was only hampered by the language barrier. Even so what she told me was extensive, as you already know.”

“You may not have realised it, Elrond, but just now Lady Pen-ii here quoted my words back at me. They were words said privately to Razanur, I do believe.”

“Privately?” Legolas seemed amused. “Is nothing safe?”

“The story I know is written from the view of the kuduk in large respect, so it is conversations they overheard or were party to that we know of.”

“Given how talkative they are, most of it is no doubt already widely known”, Legolas pointed out, laughing.

“Well, certain things would not be, perhaps. Is it widely known in Gondor what occurred between Boromir and Maura?”

Looks were shared amongst the four males who then looked back at Pen-ii with a mixture of astonishment and shock.

“You know about that?” Aragorn could not keep the tone of surprise out of his voice.

“Of course.”

“I had wondered if you had known about that all along.” Elrond seemed almost peeved. “Why did you not tell me?”

“What purpose would it have served, other than making him seem dishonourable in your eyes?”

If Elrond had looked peeved before he looked positively annoyed at that.

“I think I would have been able to understand the reasons for his actions better than you, Pen-ii,” he said tersely.

Penny swallowed and looked suitably shamefaced.

“Well, I worried only because I feared my lack of Sindarin might not be able to correctly express what had happened. I also reasoned you would hear about it from others eventually and that, with the gift of hindsight, it would be better understood that while he did indeed break his word to protect Maura, he was under great pressure and showed his nobility in resisting as long as he did. He also immediately and bitterly regretted it and fought valiantly to protect Kali and Raz, giving his life in the process.” She paused momentarily. It seemed very strange to be talking about him while sitting in his city in a room that no doubt he himself had known, perhaps even used. “His attempt to take the Ring perhaps only looks as bad as it might to some given who he was travelling with. Had there been more ‘mere mortals’ in the Fellowship, it is far less likely he would have been the first to crack, though he was indeed spurred by his love of Gondor and his inability to really comprehend the Ring’s power and that it could not be used against Sauron. Had the Fellowship not broken but continued on towards Mordor with Maura, he would not have been the last to crack either.”

Penny immediately regretted saying that last statement and looked up to see Aragorn and Legolas both glaring at her.

“Quite so, Pen-ii,” Gandalf agreed, earning himself furious looks from Aragorn and Legolas in his turn. “I think, as hard as it may be for some to hear, you are quite right. I said as much to Maura long ago: that even I could not have wielded it, and the temptation to attempt to do so would have been great the more powerful the Ring became. As you said, Ban showed extraordinary strength in his actions within Mordor itself. The Ring was a dangerous thing even for those with stronger natures than Boromir’s. Perhaps if I had been there things might have-” He glanced at Penny’s stricken face. “But, no, everything was as it was meant to be.”

“It was what pushed Maura to leave and to leave as he did – without telling anyone, to try and leave alone,” Penny pointed out.

“Cause and effect,” Aragorn said, more to himself than anyone else.

Penny nodded, still looking very distressed. “That was the entire point, that was what I had to reason through on every point: the effect of every action that I would have wished to warn you about.”

There’s was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

“I feel I owe you an apology, Pen-ii,” Legolas said at last. “About Boromir…”

“Not at all. I… I can understand how it might have appeared.”

Penny felt herself flushing a little, which was utterly ridiculous and only because of having this topic of conversation in front of these four particular individuals.

“Poor Pen-ii,” Gandalf chuckled quietly. “You placed her in an impossible position, Legolas. She had no option but lie, and of course word spread.”

Penny winced. She was well aware rumour and gossip had travelled. After all, Lindir had mentioned her behaviour with Boromir when she had first explained her story to him in Lothlorien, and if Lindir knew then everyone knew – that was the way of things in Imladris, it was like a law of the universe.

Legolas and Elrond glanced towards the door. Aragorn looked at them.

“I think Raz is having difficulty keeping someone out. I can hear raised voices,” Elrond explained.

Aragorn sighed heavily and made to get out of his seat, but Gandalf beat him to it and went to the door to see what the problem was. The complete authority which he boomed ‘Yes, can I help you?’ at whichever unsuspecting person was accosting Pippin made Penny raise her eyebrows in astonishment and had the other three sniggering into their goblets. They could just hear the beginnings of a stammered response as Gandalf pulled the door shut behind him.

“I am not sure what else you may wish to discuss,” Aragorn was saying, “but perhaps all that needs to be said is that you should feel free to talk to any of us at any time about anything. I cannot really say fairer than that, can I? Mithrandir has explained it well enough. Yes, as warriors and leaders we have faced similar choices, perhaps heavier ones, especially in this War. Yet you must realise this only means we can understand, nor will we dismiss your worries as insignificant or worthless by comparing them to our own.” He held out his hand, and Penny took it. “You are our friend, Pen-ii. You are welcome amongst us, be it in Imladris or here in Gondor. If you are in pain we would heal you and help you to the best of our ability.”

There were murmurs of agreement from Elrond and Legolas.

The mood seemed changed, and with that last little speech Aragorn had not merely indicated the interview was at an end, but with the open invitation to talk any time, Penny felt little more needed to be said right now. It had been enough to talk through some of her difficulties with what had gone on, and also to be able to explain in some detail her reasoning, to prove (not that she needed to prove anything, perhaps) that she did understand the situation and had thought long and hard about what she was doing in deciding not to tell them anything.

She was grateful that no one had mentioned anything about whatever it was she had not yet told Elrond. She did not doubt for an instant he had told them all that she was still keeping something from them. She wondered for a moment when she could expect the pressure from Gandalf or Aragorn to talk. Perhaps she had done enough in this interview to show them that she… well, perhaps ‘knew what she was doing’ was going too far, but certainly that she did not take such decisions lightly, and the destruction of The Shire…

“Was there something else you wished to say, Pen-ii? You seem distracted.”

“What? Oh, no, Lord Elrond. It has been enough just to be able to talk openly and in some detail about it all. I thank you. Though…”

“Yes?”

“Well, I was wondering if a decision had been made about where I was to stay?”

Elrond and Aragorn looked at each other. Penny glanced between them.

“Ah, well…”

“You see, Pen-ii…”

Just at that point the door opened and Gandalf reappeared.

“Sent away with a flea in his ear,” Gandalf proclaimed. “I have to say Raz stood up to him valiantly. I am not sure he needed me, to be honest, but there you are. A messenger has arrived from Dol Amroth, Aragorn, that was all. I said they could wait in the throne room for you. I did find someone waiting around in the corridor for Lady Pen-ii, however.”

Penny looked up to see Halladan in the doorway nodding and smiling at everyone.

Chapter 27 – “Echoes”

“To what do we owe this honour?” Aragorn was leaning back in his seat, one leg stuck forward and a grin on his face.

“I was waiting to return this to Lady Pen-ii.” Halladan held up the pot with the powdered tree bark inside it. “She was kind enough to give me some for my headache.”

“Lady Pen-ii the healer?” Elrond laughed.

Penny gasped, though there was a smile on her face. “Are you mocking me, Lord Elrond?”

“No, no!” He held up one hand by way of apology, even as he continued to chuckle. “No, indeed, Pen-ii.”

“I did not wish to intrude,” Halladan said, “but Gandalf insisted.”

“Of course, my boy!” Gandalf clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him into the room as he closed the door behind him. “After all, were your father alive, he would have been top of the list to be here with us, I suspect.”

“Indeed he would have been,” Aragorn agreed. “And he was entirely frank with you, Halladan, about Lady Pen-ii and her situation. Perhaps I should have invited you.” He inclined his head a little. “Forgive me, will you not?”

“Oh, I do not think Lady Pen-ii would have benefited from my presence,” Halladan replied matter-of-factly. “We have only just met, after all, and besides which, it was you she needed to speak to.”

“I did ask if you would like to be here, do not forget,” Penny pointed out.

There were slight raised eyebrows and exchanged glances at that which, even if Penny did not see them, Halladan certainly did.

“I think Lady Pen-ii was a little nervous about this meeting,” Halladan explained hurriedly, “and we had just been discussing… Well, I had just explained to her that my father had told Arvain and me all about her situation.”

“But of course, but of course.” Gandalf was all affability and smiles. “No need to explain, it is entirely understandable.”

“Halladan did say it would not be appropriate for him to be here uninvited,” Penny added, now a little worried by Halladan’s reaction that her having been so bold as to try and invite someone to a private audience with the King (even if said person was the eldest son of one the King had loved dearly) was a gross faux pas. “He reassured me you were not angry and that I had nothing to worry about.”

“No, indeed.” Legolas was smiling. “I trust we have allayed any fears you may have had in that regard?”

As Penny nodded and thanked him, Aragorn rose from his seat.

“Well, if you will forgive me, Pen-ii…” He headed over to a small table between the two balcony doors to place his goblet on a tray there next to the jug of fruit juice and water. “I had better go and see what missive Prince Imrahil has sent me that is so important someone saw fit to try and push their way past our gallant sentry.”

“Thank you once again, your Majesty.”

“Not at all. I meant all that I have said, and I would ask you to think deeply on everything that has been discussed here. It may take a little time for you to accept it, perhaps, but know that we have spoken in earnest, all four of us. And as for your question just now, well, let us wait and see, shall we? Get to know Minas Tirith a little before you decide on anything. I shall instruct one of Arwen’s ladies-in-waiting to befriend you and introduce you to those of the court you did not meet yesterday.”

Penny was not at all sure she liked the sound of that, given what little she had seen and heard of the ladies of the court so far, but she smiled pleasantly enough.

“I thank you, that would be most gracious and kind of you.”

“Good. Well, that is settled, then.” He beamed. “Mithrandir, would you mind? If this is news of the Southlands, as I suspect it might be, I could use your advice.”

“I will be along presently,” Gandalf assured him.

Elrond and Legolas also made their excuses and left, but not before Elrond had kissed Penny gently on the brow and Legolas had kissed her hand. Legolas also told her that he had no qualms discussing anything of their trials and she had but to ask or broach the topic and he would happily talk to her about it for as long as she wished. She thanked him warmly.

“I know, Lord Legolas. After all, it was you who had to speak of the Paths of the Dead to the kuduk, was it not? Given a certain person could not bring himself to do so, much to his chagrin…”

Legolas blinked at her for a moment and then laughed out loud.

“Quite so, Pen-ii. Yes, indeed!”

Still chuckling to himself, and with a shake of his head and a grin, he left the room.

Halladan caught Gandalf’s eye and murmured something about waiting outside for Penny. He shut the door behind him.

“As you know, I have to go and hear what news has come from the South, Pen-ii, so you will perhaps forgive me if I cannot talk with you in private for any length of time at present. I hope this small meeting has helped you a little, though?”

“Yes. Yes, it has, Gandalf.”

And it had. It helped enormously to have been reassured they bore her no ill-will and to hear it from them in person. They had also sought to assuage her own sense of guilt. However, while she appreciated their efforts and would long reflect on their words, it would take some time for what they had said to sink in or for her to accept them. No instant cures for that. Her brain understood what they had said completely, but overcoming irrational, instinctive, emotional responses was not as easy as it seemed.

“Good. I am glad.” He paused, looking down at her. “I know there is much you would ask me. I can sense it even if I did not know to look for it. Do not look so surprised, Pen-ii.” He chuckled. “Do you think Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and I have not talked about you? You have questions. I am not sure I have the answers. … Ai, do not look so downcast.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I did not say I do not, only that I was not sure. You must not worry so. When you are ready, then find me and talk to me. I will give you my undivided attention and answer you as best I may.”

“When I am ready?”

“Oh, I think you have more than enough to think over at the moment. You have only just arrived here in Gondor, after all, and with all the excitement of yesterday on top of it. Wait a few days till you feel more settled. Or longer if you feel you need to. After all, I quite understand that whatever answer I may have for you would be a lot to take on board, perhaps. That is all I meant.”

She nodded. It was a fair suggestion, and she was still not sure she really wanted to hear the answers, or at least not if they were what she feared most they might be. It briefly flitted through her head that perhaps Gandalf knew that, that he was giving her time to perhaps get her head clearer and in a better position to accept whatever answer he may give her, good or bad.

“Now, I must attend the King.”

She followed him out of the door. There was no sign of Pippin, only Halladan leaning up against the door frame. He straightened as they appeared.

“All done?”

“Yes, thank you, Halladan. Could I ask you to escort Lady Pen-ii to wherever it she intends to go? In this labyrinth of corridors I am sure she would otherwise-”

“But of course, Mithrandir. You did not need to ask, I was about to offer to do precisely that.”

Gandalf nodded his head, pleased, and made to head off.

“Gandalf…”

He stopped and turned to look at Penny.

“Just… thank you. It is good to be able to talk to you once more.”

“Any time, my dear. Remember that. Any time about anything. You only have to track me down.”

He seemed to look at her for a second longer than might be necessary, and it made Penny momentarily uncomfortable. No sooner had she noticed it, however, than Gandalf had bidden them farewell and was heading off down the corridor at a brisk walk.

“So,” Halladan said slowly.

“It was very kind of you to wait.”

“Well, I promised I would, did I not?” He smiled.

There was a brief pause as they walked slowly down the corridor together.

“I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” he added.

Penny nodded. “They were all very kind and understanding. Even though I think some of the things I was saying to them were probably incredibly foolish.”

“I doubt that, Pen-ii.”

There was another brief silence, though not an uncomfortable one.

“Where were you thinking of spending the rest of the afternoon? I am not sure where everyone has disappeared off to, though I dare say we could find them easily enough.”

“I had not really put any thought to it, in all honesty.”

“Well, I could show you a little of the city if you would like.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Oh, and here.” He handed her the jar. “Thank you. I already feel much improved.”

“Glad to hear it.” She grinned.

They had made their way down the staircase and were just passing the door to the throne room when Penny hesitated for a moment.

“I would like to see it. Not now, obviously, since they are busy in there at the moment, but at some point.”

“I am sure that could be arranged. You will be here for a couple of weeks at least.”

“Yes.”

Penny said nothing about the possibility of her staying a heck of a lot longer than just a couple of weeks. She did not really want to think about what it would be like to still be here in this completely new environment with all her friends gone north. Well, not all her friends, but the King and Queen would have enough to do, surely, without bothering with her…

“A coin for your thoughts?”

They had just stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.

“Oh, nothing terribly much.” Penny forced a smile.

Halladan glanced at her for a moment but did not press the issue. No doubt it was something related to whatever had gone on in the meeting.

There would be a few hours till supper, and Penny, though she did not like to admit it, was feeling a little drained by the meeting. She was still in recovery, really, and the emotional stress on top of the long day of the wedding the day before, let alone a morning of hard physical labour of washing clothes, was beginning to take its toll.

Halladan was an observant sort, though, so he only took her on a gentle tour of the upper circle, stopping at points where they could look out through the walls to point out areas of interest in the circles below. After a little while, he insisted she go and take some rest.

“There will be songs and tales this evening after our repast, I do not doubt. With this many elves in the place, it is inevitable. Dancing too, I suspect. Besides which everyone is still in high spirits with the wedding. Best you go and rest now and then you can enjoy some of it at least.”

“Do I really look that exhausted?”

“Well, no,” Halladan conceded. “But, I can imagine you are still feeling under strength given your recent illness.”

Penny knew he had a point and admitted defeat. She thanked him for the kindness he had shown and let him walk her to her door.

‘Such chivalry,’ she thought, grinning, as she climbed the stairs to her chambers. ‘Being walked to my door and chaperoned by some tall, dark, handsome warrior. I could get used to this.’

Supper was more akin to that which they had had that first evening of their arrival, though there were plenty of cold meats no doubt left over from the previous day’s feasting. The King and Queen were there, and several Gondorian nobles. Afterwards many more Gondorians joined them and space was made in the huge Hall of Feasts for a little dancing if people so wished, though tables and benches were left also. People milled about in the Hall and the courtyard outside, chatting, singing, reciting poetry or ballads, and generally having a high old time.

Throughout it all, Penny was aware that, even if she had not previously noticed how burdened she had been, she certainly realised it now in retrospect. For the first time since she came to Minas Tirith, she felt she was relaxed and more at ease.

Not completely, though. There were enough injured men around to remind her of what she would willingly forget. Being asked to dance by a Dunadan with an eye-patch was a tad unnerving, but she steeled her resolve and accepted graciously. She also managed to look him in the face every time he spoke to her without staring at the patch and wondering what horror lay underneath it. Given the still livid scar stretching into his forehead and his cheek from either side of it, she dreaded to imagine.

Halladan, as ever, kept himself at one remove from any levity, she noted. In particular he would brusquely stand up and stalk off if anyone started singing or telling tales of the War, be it the battles or particular warriors, whether living or dead.

She was more acutely aware of Halladan doing so, for obvious reasons, but it was also clear he was not the only one. There were a few sullen looking individuals ranged about, though most of them seemed to be trying to put a brave face on it all. The benches and tables served as good cover and they could sit and watch from a distance without feeling like they were letting the side down completely. The majority were clearly recovering from terrible injuries with part or the whole of a leg or arm missing, or their faces scarred.

Halladan seemed most at ease armed with a jug of ale and a pipe out in the open. Often Penny would come out for some air and spot him, sometimes alone, but more often with one or two fellow Dunedain sitting and smoking in silence alongside him.

In contrast, Arvain seemed most comfortable in the loudest company possible, invariably with a small crowd of young ladies simpering after him. She wondered if he had always been that way or if that was his way of escaping his memories.

The two brothers could not have been more different.

“Has Halladan always been like that?”

Penny was sitting outside on the steps with Lindir.

“Like what? A bit of a loner? Yes, in some ways, but that is also the way of the Dunedain of the North, do not forget. They spend long weeks or even months alone in the wild, so they have to learn to be happy with their own company. They are also a people who never say ten words where one will do.”

“Indeed.”

Penny remembered those first few nights in Middle-earth with Halbarad. He would stare for hours into the fire, sucking on his pipe, seemingly content with the darkness and the silence.

“Arvain is very different, though.”

“Ah, well, he’s still young. He takes more after his mother in many ways, and is very different to Halladan, it is true. When their mother died… well, I think Halladan felt some of the burden of looking after the family, as the eldest son, even though he was little more than a boy himself in some respects. It was he and Halbarad together looking after the other two in his mind, I think. He and his father were very close, which is not say Halbarad was not close to Arvain or Hirvell, but he and Halladan had a very particular bond.”

There was a silence.

“Grief takes people in different ways, Pen-ii. Halladan will find his way, I am sure of it.”

“I think Arvain is worried about him.”

Lindir looked at her, surprised.

“I overheard them last night. They… well, Halladan was a little drunk and they were arguing.”

“Oh, brothers always argue. I always argued with mine.”

Penny stared at him. “You have a brother?”

“Did I not mention him to you? We fought on the Dagorlad together. Of course, I was a very young ellon at the time.”

Penny thought that was an odd thing to say. Why tell her his brother had fought at the…?

Unless…

“Was he killed?” she asked tentatively.

Lindir nodded. “Many were, Pen-ii,” he replied, his voice quiet. “It was a terrible battle.”

“I-I am so sorry, Lindir.”

“Oh, do not be sorry, Pen-ii.” Lindir smiled gently. “I will see him again, and soon, I hope. When I sail West I shall meet many whom I have long yearned to see once more.”

For a moment, Lindir’s gaze was drawn to the far distance and his smile broadened a little, as if lost in memories that were very dear to him. Penny wondered if he was still thinking about his brother. Somehow she suspected he was not, though she was not entirely sure why she felt so certain.

“What are you two doing sitting out here? You should be inside! There is some lovely singing going on. Oh, it is so wonderful to have the elves here. Not that the people of Gondor have not shown us much hospitality and kindness, but the place seems so alive and bright with you all here.”

Merry was positively beaming as he spoke. Lindir and Penny let him drag them back inside.

The singing was indeed lovely, though things were far less formal than they had been at the wedding, with people milling about, talking and laughing even as whatever song or performance was taking place. If it was a performer who was known or considered to be particularly gifted, or it was a song or story that was well loved, then the Hall would fall quiet for the duration, but otherwise there was a constant hubbub of socialising going on.

As for what Merry had said about the city seeming more alive than it had in a while with such beauty and nobility walking its streets, it seemed he was not the only one to make such a comment. Indeed, already the elves were having a not dissimilar effect to the one they had had in Rohan. Admittedly, the situation was not nearly so acute, given the level of skill of the healers of Minas Tirith, as well, of course, as the healing hands of the King and the lore and skill of an elf and a Maia on call to boot, but even so there were many hurts still to be cured, and not all of them physical or immediately apparent.

When Mireth had gently woken Penny from her nap before time to wash and change for dinner, she had explained she had been to the Houses of Healing at Elrond’s behest to see if there was anything that they could help with, any cases that had defeated the healers where elvish skill might serve.

“It is not as bad as in Rohan, but there are still some in bed, others who are newly returned to that place.”

“Newly returned?”

Mireth had nodded.

“Wounds that have reopened, or failed to heal properly. If someone tried to save a limb when it should have been cut off at the first, well…”

Penny had stared at her open-mouthed. They were still removing limbs! And the only anaesthetic to speak of would probably be to get horribly drunk and bite down on something, she assumed. She had shuddered in horror at the thought.

Thus even here in Gondor the after-effects of the War were still being keenly felt. People were still dying, if in far fewer numbers. To have the elves here, with their ability to bring comfort and joy just by the light in their faces was considered a blessing indeed.

A page appeared at the side of Penny, informing her that the Queen was asking for her.

“At last! I have been hoping to catch you all evening, Pen-ii!” Arwen smiled warmly. She patted a seat next to hers, insisting Penny sit next to her. “The King told me all about this afternoon,” she whispered quietly into her ear, taking her hand in her own. “I am glad. I hope it has eased your heart a little.”

“It has, Arwe-… er, Your Majesty, thank you.”

Arwen laughed gently. “It will take just as long for me to get used to, I do not doubt.”

Eleniel leaned over. “I keep calling her Arwen, too, Pen-ii. I am not sure the ladies approve.”

There were murmurs of protests from some of the ladies-in-waiting nearby.

Arwen and Eleniel introduced Penny to those she had not already met. One, a young woman about Penny’s age, called Meresel, was to be her guide. She smiled pleasantly at Penny and said she would look forward to it.

Lady Sidhwen was there, however, and looked less than pleased at the idea that Penny was about to become a regular amongst the ladies of Gondor for the duration of her stay.

“Ah, Lord Faramir. You have met Lady Pen-ii, have you not?”

“I have indeed, Lady Eleniel.” Faramir graciously inclined his head, and Penny returned the gesture. “She is the lady who knew my brother, and spoke so warmly of him.”

Lady Sidhwen looked intrigued. “You know Boromir?” Her Sindarin was fractured and the accent thick.

“I knew him, yes,” Penny replied.

“Knew.” Lady Sidhwen smiled thinly as she corrected herself. “Sindarin not strong for me.”

“Oh, I did not mean it as a correction, I was just replying,” Penny said hurriedly.

It was clear Lady Sidhwen did not follow all of what she said, however, since Meresel translated for her. She nodded and smiled, but Penny somehow felt that she did not believe Penny meant what she had said for a moment.

“Not all ladies speak Sindar,” Meresel explained, herself making a few mistakes. “The men learn. We do not. Learn by ear only.”

“It is not often used outside of academic or diplomatic circles,” Faramir explained. “Thus, of course, the women are not as fluent. Many do not speak it at all even among the nobility.”

“Indeed?” Penny could not keep the tone of astonishment out of her voice. “Women are not educated?”

“Of course they are!” Faramir laughed. “Most ladies can read a little. Some can even write.”

Penny glanced round her in some surprise that this was considered sufficient ‘education’ that even most noblewomen were only semi-literate. She found Eleniel regarding her with a ‘well, I am just as perplexed as you’ expression on her face, Arwen looking vaguely amused at Penny being so obviously taken aback, and the ladies-in-waiting looking a mixture of awkward, defiant or even on the edge of outrage.

“A lady has no need of books,” Lady Sidhwen said loudly in Westron.

“I love books,” Penny retorted, a smile on her face and shrugging her shoulders. “I was educated for many years. From the age of three to the age of twenty-one.”

“Really?” Eleniel was impressed, even if many of the ladies of Gondor looked non-plussed or even amused by this idea.

“I like books,” Meresel chipped in. She gave Penny a soft smile and Penny returned it. Perhaps this would be a friend in amongst the lions’ den. “I borrow from my brothers. Read their books.”

“Lady Meresel here is a rare prize in Gondor,” Faramir said, smiling. “She is a boon to her husband, and a wonderful mother.”

Penny blinked. This woman was married and with children! She looked about her own age!

“Children?”

“Two. Two boys.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“No, no. I am not married.”

“Really?” Now it was Lady Meresel’s turn to look surprised.

“A charming young lady such as yourself? For shame!” Faramir was being very chivalrous, Penny decided.

“Well, I think ladies marry when they are a little older than we might expect where Lady Pen-ii hails from, Faramir,” Awen explained. “If the women are busy learning to such a late age, it is not surprising, perhaps.”

“They must be great scholars.”

Faramir was not being facetious. Or not that Penny could tell, at any rate. The sniggering that erupted amongst the women left her in a little doubt, though.

“I would not go that far,” Penny mumbled.

“Ellith are learned in many skills,” Eleniel chipped in. “We make no distinction in such things, as I am sure you know, so we are as educated as the males amongst us.”

“We learn things that will help us to be wives and mothers,” Meresel replied. “Running a house, cooking, sewing… Many things. And we do learn little. Not like the poorer in Minas Tirith. We do speak little Sindar.”

“You do not speak Westron?” Lady Sidhwen seemed at pains to point out Penny’s failings. Penny wondered how old she actually was, since she seemed to appear younger and younger every time she opened her mouth as far as she was concerned.

“No. I little learn,” Penny replied falteringly, so proving herself to be as poor a Westron speaker as Lady Sidhwen was a Sindarin speaker.

“Which reminds me,” Arwen interrupted. “Lord Erestor said to inform you that your lessons would begin again tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, no,” Penny groaned.

“You do not wish to learn Westron?” Faramir grinned. “Well, I will admit I think Sindarin the fairer language.”

“I find it difficult, that is all. It has taken me long enough to learn Sindarin.”

“You did not speak Sindarin either?” Faramir seemed intrigued. “Ah, yes, King Elessar did explain your situation. You were found lost and wandering, is that not so? By Lord Halbarad, Lord Halladan’s father?”

Penny nodded, aware that, as Faramir’s words were translated amongst the ladies who could not understand them fully, the whispering and nudging had increased a little.

“A good and noble man from what I hear,” he said more quietly. “I am sorry I never got to meet him. If his sons are anything to judge by, however, I can only imagine…”

Which provoked a sudden flurry of interest from the ladies of Gondor who began, all at once, to declare that the Dunedain were indeed very noble, brave and most handsome individuals (“Arvain especially,” one dreamy-eyed maiden sighed). There was even a muttered comment about Halladan may well be noble but could do with being a bit more sociable. Faramir rounded in the direction of the speaker.

“Have a care, ladies,” he said sternly. “Halladan is a man after my own heart, and I consider him a true friend. He has suffered much, as I am sure you well know. He is entitled to his grief, and you should not judge him for it. Nor is he the only one to find his losses hard to bear. We could name a good dozen at least or more who are here in this room who have been changed by what they have seen and what they have lost. Indeed, have we not all been changed in some way?”

There were a few ashamed blushes at that, mainly among the younger women who shuffled awkwardly and avoided Faramir’s stern glare. The older women tutted at them and shook their heads.

“Oh, I think they only meant that they have noticed that he is young, brave warrior and they would wish to have him dance with them and sweep them off their feet the way his brother has.” Arwen smiled knowingly at the ladies of the court as she said this and Penny noticed the colour on some of the maidens’s cheeks turned a shade deeper.

Ah, so Halladan had his admirers from afar, did he?

She smirked.

At the same time she also felt vaguely irritated on his behalf. She might have only known him for a day or two, but she got the distinct impression that silly chits of girls were the last thing Halladan would be interested in. But then, who was she to say, after all?

“I think you will like Meresel,” Eleniel said as they walked back to their chambers together. Mireth was with them and several other ellith who were lodged in their building.

“I hope so,” Penny replied. “Some of the ladies of Gondor seem… well… er…”

She did not know how to say ‘complete bitches’ in Sindarin, which was perhaps no bad thing.

Eleniel laughed. “I know what you mean. Trust me, Arwen will quickly deal with any nonsense. I am not sure they have the measure of her yet. There will be quite a shock for one or two at some point in the future, I suspect.”

Eleniel seemed to find this highly entertaining. Clearly Arwen, for all her quiet wisdom, did not suffer fools gladly. Penny almost hoped something might happen where she could witness it because it would be quite amusing to see some of the condescending cows put in their places.

Lady Sidhwen for starters.

Penny was not sure exactly what she had against her, only that she disliked her almost instantly. That said, she had the distinct impression the feeling was mutual, so she did not feel too guilty about it. Her simpering over Arvain at the wedding had already left Penny distinctly underwhelmed given she had been so obvious about it. Not only that, but Penny suspected she was exactly the sort of fickle trollop that, if she thought someone more eligible might be available, would drop Arvain in an instant for all her fawning over him. She had always loathed women like that. Judging from the general way most of the ladies of the court behaved, though, Lady Sidhwen was not unique by any means. All in all, it made the prospect of staying in Gondor indefinitely even less favourable as far as Penny was concerned.

As they were getting themselves washed and undressed, Penny mentioned Lindir’s brother, explained she had not even realised he had one.

“He never mentioned him before. I can understand if he finds it difficult to talk about.”

“Oh, it will not be that, Pen-ii,” Mireth replied. “Lindir misses him, of course, but long overcame his loss. You have only known him a short time, do not forget. I am sure it simply never came up before, that is all.”

A short time? Well, I suppose to an elf it would be a short time. To Penny it already felt like a lifetime in some ways.

“Besides, so many fell on the Dagorlad, it is perhaps unsurprising you have not caught up with all those who were lost,” Eleniel said quietly.

There was something about the glance Mireth threw her, kindly and sympathetic, that made Penny pause. Eleniel saw her quizzical look.

“The ellon I loved fell in that battle,” she explained. “I never had the courage to tell him how I felt before he left, and then…” She stopped and smiled sadly. “He may not have returned my affection, I do not know. It is perhaps foolish of me to have waited all this time.”

“Not at all.” Mireth took her friend’s hand in hers. “You know what Lindir and Naurdir said about him – that he seemed to take a special interest in you. I feel sure he felt the same way, and when you see him once more he will tell you so, and tell you how the thought of you had him champing at the bit to leave Mandos as soon as he might.”

Eleniel smiled gratefully, and Mireth hugged her. Penny came over and sat on the cot next to her.

“I’m sorry, Eleniel, I had no idea…”

“Do not apologise, Pen-ii. As Mireth said, many fell and many young ellyn in particular. I am not the only elleth who was bereft of her love so young. Perhaps it was harder for those who were betrothed or newly married, indeed I am sure it was.”

“Well, yes,” Mireth murmured. “Look at Lindir.”

“Lindir?”

Mireth and Eleniel exchanged a glance.

“You must not tell him we told you, Pen-ii, indeed it might be best never to mention it unless he does, but…” Mireth glanced at Eleniel uncertainly for a moment before she continued. “Well, I was still very young when it happened. I knew her, and she was a good friend of Eleniel’s …”

Mireth hesitated again as Eleniel rose and crossed over to the window, staring out into the night sky.

“Eleniel, if this is going to upset you…”

“No, it is perhaps better Pen-ii knows since she does not already. I would rather she hear it from one of us than perhaps say something unwittingly.”

“Mireth is right, Eleniel. Perhaps she can wait until we are alone.”

“Really, I am not upset.” Eleniel turned back to them and they could see she was smiling, if sadly. “She was my friend and I miss her, but I will see her soon. As will Lindir, and his loss was greater.” She looked at Penny. “As you have no doubt guessed they were betrothed. Indeed, they were only a month or two away from their marriage when it happened.”

“She died. I can guess that also.” Penny realised that this was upsetting, but there also seemed to be more to this than she could immediately surmise.

There was a pause.

“Pen-ii has anyone ever mentioned Lady Celebrían to you?” Eleniel asked at last. “Why she sailed?”

Penny was dumbstruck. Celebrían was rarely spoken of, but when she was, it was in terms that made it clear she was much loved and much missed. Her capture and whatever horrors she may have suffered were never spoken of or even hinted at, however.

“I know her story,” she said slowly and carefully. “Or the barest details, at least.”

Mireth and Eleniel seemed surprised.

“I know she was captured by orcs in the mountains, and that despite Lord Elrond’s best efforts to heal her, she could not bear to remain here.”

Eleniel nodded. “She was not travelling alone, Pen-ii, as you would not doubt assume. Meluieth was a close companion of Celebrían. The two had much in common. She… she did not survive the attack.”

“I remember when they brought back her body,” Mireth said very quietly. “Lindir was so distraught. He would not speak for days.”

A heavy silence fell for a moment.

Penny opened her mouth to say she was sorry (again), but the words seem woefully inadequate. She was still struggling to find something appropriate to say when she realised Eleniel had left the window and was now standing in front of her. Eleniel held out her hand and Penny took it.

“Thank you. I know what you would say or would try and express, and I thank you for it. Do not feel sad. She is with Mandos and at peace. Whatever she suffered, it was quick, or so they said. Do not feel shy to speak her name, either. They fought honourably and hard against their attackers, even if they were overcome at the last. I am proud to have had her as a friend, and I look forward to seeing her again.”

She released Penny’s hand and sat on the floor next to Penny, her head resting back against the cot mattress.

“It may be Lindir will himself speak of her to you one day,” she continued, “but he rarely mentions her even to me or others who knew her well. Not because it is too painful so much as that he is content that he will see her again and to remember her quietly by himself is enough. He is at peace. If you can understand that…”

“Yes, I can understand that.”

And she did. Even if she had never experienced such a thing herself.

It seemed strange to think of elves affected by grief, given their immortality, and yet she had seen their reaction to the death of the elf on the borders of Imladris. Loss was as real to them as to a mortal in many ways.

There was little more to be said after that. Penny was glad she knew, glad she had not got round to asking a question that had been niggling at her for a while now: why Lindir was unmarried and had he really never found the right elleth for himself.

‘Poor Lindir,’ she thought to herself as she fell asleep. ‘Poor Lindir and poor Eleniel.’

It just went to show that much had been lost thanks to Sauron long before this current War and that the elves, perhaps even more than the mortals involved, knew just how much.

Author’s Note:

I just wanted to say a few things about these plotlines for Lindir and Eleniel. Both have been in my head for a long, long while and I’ve just been waiting for the right moment for them to come out and Penny to be told about them.

I do not see either of them (Lindir and Eleniel, that is) as being unique particularly. As I have tried to have people point out to Penny on various occasions (not that she needs telling) the War of the Last Alliance was long and vicious (12 years, if memory serves?) and many fell. Mirkwood was particularly hard hit, of course (one third of its army lost and its king), let alone the fall of Gil-galad, High King of the Elves. Lindir and Eleniel are only two of many who would have lost fathers, brothers, sons and lovers in that battle. My apologies to those who have long pleaded for Lindir and Penny to get together (or even Lindir and Eleniel) – it was never my intention. He will remain like a brother to her and sail West and see his love once more.

As for the Celebrían element: it is not at all unreasonable to presume Celebrían would have had ellith with her – both as companions and as the nearest thing to ladies-in-waiting – let alone warrior ellyn. In fact I would say you’d have to come up with a very good reason as to why that would not be the case. Given she was captured, it can only mean the rest were all either slaughtered or captured with her. That only she is mentioned as having been rescued, I have taken poetic licence and made it that most were killed and only a few captured of which she was the sole survivor, though really it’s anyone’s guess (other than Tolkien’s, obviously).

Chapter 28 – “Life Goes On”

Even if Arwen had not already passed on the message, Penny would have not had any excuse. Erestor managed to grab hold of her before she left the Hall for her chambers that night to remind her about the Westron lesson, and then the following morning he made a point of calling her over to sit with him for breakfast just to make doubly certain.

Thus there would be no escaping The Westron Lesson of Doom.

Since the Hall of Feasts was now being used for both lunch and supper, it was little extra effort to provide seating and tables for breakfasting, though some still chose to eat in their chambers or out in the courtyard. The Gondorians did not join them for this meal, nor did the King and Queen (who breakfasted alone).

Erestor was deep in conversation with Glorfindel and Frodo as Penny came over to join them, Mireth with her.

“Westron lesson this morning, Pen-ii. You have not forgotten?”

Penny tried not to sigh too heavily. “No, Erestor, I had not forgotten.”

“Ah, good,” Frodo said. “I have told Pen-ii I would help her practice her vocabulary, Erestor. It seems to have helped with her Sindarin, after all.”

If Erestor was alarmed by the idea of Penny having a third person trying to muscle in on her Westron teaching, he did not show it.

“Why, thank you, Maura. That would be most helpful.”

“What is this?” A tall, blond figure had just walked up to their table to join them.

There was the briefest flicker of alarm on Erestor’s face.

“Oh, nothing terribly impor-”

“Penny is to start her Westron lessons, Lord Rhimlath,” Frodo explained.

He turned to Penny with a ‘Now, then’ and started pointing at every item on the table and getting her to repeat the word after him, just as he had done so many months before in Imladris with Sindarin.

Rhimlath opened his mouth to say something as he watched Frodo at work, saw Erestor giving him a hard look, glanced back at Frodo and closed his mouth again. He sat down and helped himself to some fruit instead. Perhaps there was a benefit to having Frodo involved after all, Penny decided. Rhimlath could hardly correct a native Westron speaker, even if the accent and some of the words were different from Gondorian Westron.

Penny flashed a small smirk in Erestor’s direction. He raised an eyebrow at her but was clearly trying to hide a smile at the same time. No doubt he was thinking exactly what Penny was thinking.

The moment the meal was finished, Erestor picked up two books that he had kept beside him all through breakfast and lead Penny off outside at a brisk walk and then through a small side door in a nearby building. Down two corridors and up one flight of stairs they at last came to a small room which had little more than a table with two benches in it. There was also a large, framed slate propped up against one wall and a smaller one on the table with some chalk.

“Ah, good, good. Everything is prepared as I asked it would be. Excellent.”

Penny blinked. Proper lessons? As in writing and learning script and all that same palaver she had gone through with Sindarin? Her heart sank.

“Erestor, I really do not think I can…”

“Yes, you can, Pen-ii. It may take time, admittedly, and more than we have available, but it will not hurt to try. I am sure you will absorb a little of what we go over in this manner, and perhaps a lot more than that. You may surprise yourself.”

“I doubt it,” Penny muttered.

And so it began.

Erestor decided to start by going back over much that he had tried to teach her while they had travelled. Seeing it written down, even in a completely different script, did help to consolidate it in Penny’s mind a little, though she still could barely remember anything of her vocabulary. At the end of it all Erestor seemed a little exasperated. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to stave off a migraine.

“Ai, Pen-ii, Pen-ii, Pen-ii. What shall we do with you? You have barely retained anything I have taught you.”

“With all due respect, Erestor, the constant bickering between you and Rhimlath did not help particularly.”

“Yes, yes, I quite accept my responsibility in all that. Lindir’s meddling only served to confuse you further as well, and what with the long break due to your illness… I think we shall have to insist people talk only in Westron to you from now on.”

“What! No! Erestor, please, you can’t!”

“But you will never learn otherwise. If you are to stay here you need to…”

“I thought no decision had been made about that?” Penny retorted snappily, suddenly angry.

She had always felt closer to Erestor than with many other elves, given the amount of time they had spent together with all those lessons. Hence, while he was perhaps not quite as close a friend or as ‘pally’ as Lindir or Celebdor, her pent-up frustration at the situation was showing itself more with him than it might have done with Elrond or Glorfindel.

“Well, no, I don’t think any…”

“So it could be a complete waste of time in that case, might it not?”

“I would not say that.” Now Erestor was getting annoyed in his turn. “I am sorry you do not appreciate my efforts to help you, Pen-ii.”

“I do appreciate it, Erestor, but I am just not sure I appreciate the motive behind it.”

Erestor blinked at her for a moment, clearly shocked.

“I beg your pardon?”

His face was furious.

“No one has once asked me what I might want to do! Everyone is saying I should take my time to decide and yet at the same time it seems as if the decision has been made for me. Perhaps I do not want to stay here. Perhaps I do not feel particularly welcome or at ease here given the attitude of the women of the court and the destruction all around me that I feel partially responsible for. I am well aware you are all leaving soon, but Imladris will not be completely empty even after that.” She faltered then, realising perhaps that she was way out of line speaking in this way to Erestor, let alone had let herself go off on a complete tangent. “Perhaps I have been too much of a burden there. I realise it would perhaps be easier for me to come to live here. It is just that… Now I am face to face with mortals once more I realise just how very different I am from them. I know that probably does not make much sense. I am the same and yet… not.”

Erestor moved round to her side of the table and sat down on the bench next to her, his back against the table top.

“You should have told us you were feeling like this.”

“I would have thought it was obvious. I think some of this was guessed in the meeting I had yesterday. Being here is a bit overwhelming.”

“I am sure it is. Did Gandalf and Aragorn not tell you to take your time? That is why they advised you so. Your initial reaction to this place is understandable, but once that is over and you begin to find your feet you may begin you feel differently. If not, then…”

Penny looked at him. “Then?”

“You will always have a home in Imladris. Lord Elrond told you that long before, Pen-ii, and he meant it. He does not begrudge you a place in his household, nor do any of us.”

He smiled kindly at her, wondering, not for the first time, at how mortal and very young she could be at times.

“So we will be leaving soon, you say? Is that soon by your standards or ours, I wonder?”

“Ours.”

“Ah.” He nodded and his smile broadened. “As you say, not all will leave immediately. Some have ties here. Some have been here so long it will not be easy to leave knowing they will never return. Some will choose to stay, and those who leave their loved ones behind will find that a hard choice indeed.”

“Indeed.” She thought over the things she had learnt the night before. “But there are those that will be waiting for them in Valinor. Eleniel and Mireth were telling me a little about it last night.”

“Were they?”

“About lost siblings and loves… I felt so very sad. It must be wonderful to have that certainty, though, to know you will see them again.”

“You do not share that?”

“Well, I… I do not know. I never… I mean, I thought the fate of the mortals was unknown.”

“And so it is, but many have their theories and their beliefs.”

Penny could see Erestor was regarding her with some curiosity. She was not sure she dared admit to him her complete lack of belief in anything terribly much prior to arriving in Middle-earth. She still found the idea of Valinor, the Valar and the Maiar actually existing a little mind-blowing if she really stopped to think about it.

“Well, yes,” she said at last. “Every culture has its ideas but in the end no one really knows, do they?”

“Oh, I think mortals will see each other again. Whether mortals and immortals will see each other even after the world is unmade is another matter. When we lose you we truly do not know if we will ever meet once more. That is a cause of great grief to us, especially concerning those we love dearly.”

“Like Arwen,” Penny said quietly, before she could stop it falling out of her mouth.

Erestor was silent for a moment.

“Yes,” he said at last. “Like Arwen. Idril’s husband was given immortality alongside her. Alas for Arwen her fate lies elsewhere. We can only hope that at the end of time we will be reunited with her.”

Erestor looked away and Penny did not say anything for a while.

“I always felt so very sorry for Elrond,” she said quietly at long last. “When I read the stories, I mean.”

Erestor turned back to her, his gaze a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“What he went through as an elfling, then to lose his brother, his daughter, and to almost…” She hesitated.

“Lose his wife?” Erestor finished for her.

Penny nodded.

“It was a dreadful business.” Erestor shook his head, as if lost for words for a moment. “Truly dreadful.”

“Eleniel told me about Meluieth… and Lindir.”

“Ah. I see. Yes, that was a bitter blow to him. Poor Celebrían felt burdened by every death in that party. I only hope Valinor has helped to heal her hurts… Of the heart, I mean,” he added. “In some ways the physical wounds were the easiest to heal, even if she was close to death for some time.” His voice was quiet once more, and it was as if he was talking to himself, lost in the memory of it, observing it from a distance. He glanced up at Penny. “You never mentioned her before now. You never let us know you knew.”

“I… I was not sure if it was not too painful a subject. I did not dare mention it.”

“No more painful, perhaps, to Elrond than Arwen’s choice. Indeed that is more so in some ways, since Celebrian is waiting in Valinor for him. He will see her again and, so you say, soon. But your tact and understanding are appreciated, Pen-ii, I thank you. There were several killed and others… well, let us just say it was a terrible time for all those who knew them.”

Penny wondered, not for the first time, at how carefree and full of joy elves could be given the amount of sorrows they had lived through.

“Time passes,” Erestor continued, almost as if she had spoken her thoughts out loud. “Wounds heal, even if the memory of them never fully recedes. We must move on and live our lives. This is one of the things many find hard, whether mortal or immortal: that life goes on. We have the time to come to terms with that fact. We have long years and ages in which to grieve and walk out of our darkness to a better understanding and acceptance. For mortals it is, perhaps, a more difficult path. They have little time to recover, and death assails them from all sides and from old age, sickness and disease far more than war or violence. Perhaps therein lies a balance. Death is not common for us, and so perhaps it is all the more shocking when it occurs, but we also have the time to recover from that. Death is all too common for mortals, and perhaps they are therefore better able to recover more quickly from their loss and pain.”

“Perhaps.”

“It is only a theory, only my observations. There are always exceptions: mortals who carry the weight of their grief for long, long years and perhaps never fully recover, or else immortals for whom the loss is too great and they fade...” He paused briefly, his face suddenly desperately sad as if he was remembering those he had seen this happen to. “After the War of the Last Alliance many who had lost husbands or sons… Many ellith sailed West and some… some went West by other means.”

“Is that when..?”

“Yes, my wife sailed then. She lost a brother, her father and an uncle. She was also very concerned for a friend of hers who was near inconsolable with grief. She felt it best they sail together before she faded. To be in the presence of the Valar as well as to be that much nearer to Mandos’s Halls seemed to her to be the only thing that might give her friend the strength to stay. I could understand her reasoning. I supported her in her decision.”

“You must miss her.”

“I do. It has been a long time. But then I know she waits for me, as I do for her. Separation is not as hard for us, since time is relative, but that is not to say we are completely impervious to its trials and difficulties. Indeed that was my other point: there are immortals who find it hard to cope with loss and separation, but then equally the same is true for mortals. We have seen it happen many times.”

Again his face grew sad and Penny could see the weight of Ages in his eyes.

“I think it always hits the women hardest. I know here in Gondor there have been women sorely affected by their loss, just as they were after the Battle of the Dagorlad, since many men fell then also. It was not only elves that paid with their lives during those bitter years. I have even known women…” He stopped abruptly. “But, no. Let us talk of more cheerful things.” He smiled and forced a laugh. “Look at us, sitting here, drowning in melancholy. Dear me, this will not do.”

“What were you going to say?”

Erestor looked at her for a moment.

“Some things are best not known unless you have no choice, Pen-ii. Trust me, I would not wish you burdened with such things. Now, come. I think we have talked enough today, and certainly the lesson is at an end. I have here a Westron translation of ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ for you to read while you are here. It is not a gift, I am afraid. I have managed, with much persuading, to borrow this from the large library they have here, and it will need to be returned there.” It was quite a tome, with thick pages bound in leather, gilded and decorated. “I want you to slowly read this, using your Sindarin copy as a guide. Then each lesson you will read aloud from the book, translating as you go.”

Penny groaned. “You are not making this easy, are you, Erestor?”

“Of course not.” He grinned.

“What is that other book?”

As she asked, Erestor stood and made his way to the door. Penny followed him out into the corridor.

“Oh, that’s a Westron grammar I also managed to get a copy of. I will use that as a reference during lessons if I need to.”

Penny laughed. “You are not letting Rhimlath’s taunts get to you, are you?”

“Certainly not!” Erestor looked most affronted. “I meant as a reference to show you regarding any particular grammar point or for exercises, not to remind myself of-”

“If you say so, Erestor.”

“Now look here, young lady…!”

“I believe you! I believe you!” She smirked. “I am not sure Lindir will, though, but still…”

Erestor spluttered for a moment. “Lindir knows me too well to think such things about me.”

“That will not stop him from saying them, though.”

“You do not need to tell him, you know.”

“I do not need to, no…”

Erestor made an exasperated sound. “You are spending entirely too much time in Lindir’s company, Pen-ii! You are becoming nearly as infuriating as he is!”

Penny giggled. “I will take that as a compliment.”

Erestor shook his head, chuckling as he did so.

“Incidentally, what did you mean by what you said about the ladies of Gondor? They strike me as charming and exhibiting a nobility that becomes their lineage.”

Penny looked at him. “All of them, Erestor?”

“Well, some are little young… And perhaps to have so many fair and noble males in Minas Tirith has made the youngest a little giddy…”

Penny had to stop herself from laughing.

“Have you not seen the way some fawn over the Dunedain and any ellon passing? And I thought I saw several trying to persuade you to dance at the wedding, despite your best efforts to put them off. Celebdor said he had to rescue you and Glorfindel at one point. Apparently you had collected quite a little admiring crowd.”

“Ah, well.” Erestor flushed a little and looked awkward. “That was… Celebdor has no right saying such things!”

Penny laughed out loud, and Erestor, admitting defeat, found himself joining in.

“You must know how women can be, Erestor. Especially if they are young, single and feel they have to compete for a man. I suspect I am seen as both an oddity and a threat. I am known by the elves and befriended by the Dunedain…”

“You are also a friend to the King and Queen,” Erestor added. “Yes, I take your point. However, there are many ladies of Gondor who are noble and charming, as I said just now. I feel sure you will find the measure of them and discover those who are worthy of your friendship. Arwen will not allow ill manners or malicious character in her circle, trust me, Pen-ii. If needs be rely on her and those she seems closest to. That is the best advice I can give you.”

“Yes, thank you, Erestor. I intend to do just that.”

She suspected, however, that a select few would be difficult to avoid, especially if they were determined to go gunning for her despite her best efforts to stay out of their way.

‘Just let them try it,’ she thought.

“I would like to see the library. Is it open to the public?”

“The public? I hardly think so!” Erestor seemed to find the idea amusing. “It is rare to find someone below the rank of nobility who can read. Besides which the library is mainly a store of very ancient and precious texts.”

“Even so…”

“I can introduce you to the librarian if you wish. A fascinating fellow… In fact, that would be a very good idea. I think you would enjoy hearing what he has to say on the history and peoples of Gondor.”

Penny beamed. She would like that very much indeed.

They made an arrangement to meet by the White Tree at the seventh hour, and Erestor left her out in the courtyard as he went to find Elrond. Penny made her way across the courtyard to take her book back to her room.

“So, how was the lesson?”

A small group of elves were sitting on the grass, enjoying the sunshine. Rhimlath was among them. There were a few lords and ladies of Gondor were hovering nearby as well, a few other elves mingling with them.

“Very good,” Penny lied, feeling she needed to defend Erestor before Rhimlath could try and get a dig in. “Erestor is an excellent teacher.”

“He is indeed. Though I have no doubt all that extra tuition I was able to give you on the journey down here as helped. I have laid down a solid base from which Erestor can fine tune whatever he feels it is appropriate to teach you.”

Penny wanted to tell Rhimlath he was an arrogant arse who had done more to confuse her than help, but bit her tongue given Faramir walked past at that point with Glorfindel and Faelon.

Glorfindel, who had overheard the conversation and had seen the flash of irritation on Penny’s face, could not help himself. He halted as he passed by the group.

“Rhimlath, we love you dearly, but you are a fatuous, self-important windbag at times. I feel sure Pen-ii would tell you so but she is too polite and is restraining herself. I, on the other hand, have known you all your life and can tell you such a thing with impunity.”

Laughter erupted around him as Rhimlath reddened slightly and looked decidedly annoyed.

“Ah, Glorfindel!” Lindir was smirking his head off as he spoke. “Always able to say that which others would restrain themselves from saying out loud even if they are thinking it.”

“It is the diplomat in him,” Rhimlath said icily, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oooh, is that fighting talk, Rhimlath?” Glorfindel retorted, one eyebrow raised and a grin on his face.

Rhimlath rounded on Lindir. “And what do you mean ‘even if they are thinking it’!”

Faramir appeared astonished, if amused, and looked to Penny and Faelon as if by way of explanation. They were both laughing also and Penny held her hands up in the direction of Faramir as if to say ‘not guilty, your honour, it’s nothing to do with me’.

“I see their lordships enjoy life.” He smiled. “But then I had already got that impression from Lords Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir. As well as what Mithrandir and King Elessar had told me.”

“Oh, this is nothing, Lord Faramir, trust me,” Penny replied.

“It is true,” Faelon added. “They can get far, far worse.”

“Well, there is nothing wrong with a playful heart. It does one good to find levity and joyfulness in others’ company.”

“I think some would call it ‘never growing up’,” Penny muttered.

Lindir raised an eyebrow. “For someone as young as you, Pen-ii, that is saying something.”

“She does have a point, Lindir.” Eleniel was laughing. “Or she does in your case, at least.”

“Oh, men can be just as bad, Eleniel, I promise you.”

Lord Faramir and Faelon exchanged amused looks.

“Oh, yes, Pen-ii?” Faelon was chuckling.

“Though equally, some would argue it is part of any male’s charm in some ways,” Penny added hurriedly. She restrained herself from pointing out it was also part of any male’s ability to drive a woman completely do-lally.

One or two ellith and ladies of Gondor did that for her, though.

In the meantime she took advantage of the laughter and friendly banter to hurry to her room to leave her book there and then come back to join them.

As she did so, she thought of the few men she had known well in her life: obsessed with arsing about and getting drunk or role playing or computer games (or computers) and generally not taking real life terribly seriously if they could at all help it… Heck, she had never even met her father. How was that for shirking responsibility?

She then considered the men she had met since she had landed in this weird situation: strong, brave, honourable, constantly putting their lives at risk for the sake of others.

They could not be more different.

Well, except perhaps for some of the ellyn in their worst moments, but then even they could be serious if they needed to be. She had only had a hint of Lindir in warrior mode, it was true, but even so… And of course he had the weight of grief on him to forget. She could not blame him if he chose to muck around and play the joker at times, and she joined in with him often enough, did she not?

Then she thought of her brother who did nothing but muck about, and who was as irresponsible and irritating as it was possible to be.

For one horrible moment she wondered if she might she actually be missing him...

By the time she had returned Glorfindel and Rhimlath were back in full ‘baiting’ mode with Rhimlath asking Glorfindel random questions about obscure bits of Sindarin lore and history and Glorfindel responding by asking Rhimlath about details of Gondolin that few but a native of the city would know.

“You’ll be asking me what colour drapes you had in your chambers next,” Rhimlath was saying with scorn.

“Very well. Battle tactics. I will present you with a hypothetical situation and you tell me what you would consider to be the best formation of your men…”

“I am a seasoned warrior, Glorfindel,” Rhimlath said testily.

“Yes, but that does not make you a tactician, Rhimlath.”

“I am as skilled with a bow as any in Lothlorien, indeed better than many.”

“And with a sword?”

“You have seen me use a sword, Glorfindel.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you saying?!” Rhimlath looked furious.

“You should join us, Lord Rhimlath.” Faramir interjected, no doubt trying to calm the situation down. “I was on my way to show Lord Glorfindel here the practise areas for sparring.”

“Oh, now that is an excellent idea! We could put our respective swordsmanship to the test.”

The way Glorfindel beamed made Penny suspect Rhimlath would regret having gone down this route if he accepted the challenge.

If Rhimlath hesitated it was only for a moment.

“But of course, Lord Faramir.” He inclined his head haughtily by way of thanks. “I would be most delighted to accept your offer. Frankly I am surprised you have the space for an archery target yard that would be long enough for an elf’s needs, but…”

“Oh, no, archery is taught and practised out on the Pelennor for the most part. We cannot have arrows flying through people’s windows or into backyards as youngsters first start to learn, can we?” Faramir grinned. “Of course we would be most interested to see the skill of elvish archers at the fete.”

“Fete?” This was a new word to Penny. It was quickly explained.

“This coming market day there is likely to be a larger number of stalls and people than usual given word will have spread of our new Queen, as well as the arrival of so many elves. There will be a few festivities and games as well. Some organised by the city, but there will no doubt be others organised by local people. There will be an archery contest, since there always is at such events. Laughable to ones of your skill, no doubt…” He had turned back to Rhimlath who positively preened at the compliment and made no attempt to refute Faramir’s assertion. “But it may entertain. Of course, as I say, if some of the best among you would show some of your skill, that would be a treat for us all indeed.”

Penny groaned. There would no doubt now be a battle royal amongst them all to determine who were ‘the best among them’.

She was surprised, though, when immediately Glorfindel and Rhimlath started listing names off between them, with Lindir throwing in a couple as well. Of course, for all their jibes and bickering, when push came to shove, they had to know such things, Penny reasoned, since in a battle scenario your life or that of your men might depend on giving the right man the right job.

‘Which just goes to prove my point,’ she mused.

Market day would be in two days time, apparently, and Penny was looking forward to it. Even without the added excitement of the fete she would have looked forward to it. Just to see all the stalls laid out and the wares… Apparently one of the few things that had picked up almost immediately after Sauron had fallen was trade. Opportunists and wheeler-dealers were not slow or shy in realising the people of Minas Tirith, and indeed Gondor as a whole, would be desperate for supplies and especially those things they had long missed or long gone without. Not only that but, with the darkness finally lifted, and for those who had not lost heavily during the War, there was the ‘feel-good’ factor, a sense of euphoria which meant that some were more tempted than they had been in a long time to hoik out that bag of coins from under the floorboards and go a little wilder than usual.

It also meant prices had sky-rocketed at first, until Aragorn had stepped in and laid down strict guidelines about buying and selling, bartering and haggling, and generally selling things for a fair price or else.

As Faramir, Glorfindel, Rhimlath, Lindir and several others made their way down to the First Circle and the training grounds, Eleniel and Penny followed behind. Penny had yet to see the rest of the city in daylight, and Eleniel had not really explored terribly far herself the previous afternoon. They just intended to wander down to the courtyard behind the main gate and then back up again, which should kill most of the time till lunch.

There were quite a few people staring at them all as they made their way down, not in an unpleasant way, though some could have been a little more discrete or subtle if they had tried. No doubt having seen Legolas or the twins around the city had not sufficiently prepared the inhabitants for a group of elves all bunched together like this. When adults as well as children were pointing and saying ‘Oooh, look! Elves!’ at the tops of their voices it did make you wince. Elves were still a novelty, it seemed, and worth staring at (or in some cases, positively gawping). Of course, Lord Faramir was well known and well loved, and many came out to greet him. Penny was impressed by how many people he knew by name, asking after their children or spouses by name as well, quite often.

‘Quite the statesman,’ Penny mused. She could just imagine him kissing babies and shaking palms, though in his case she suspected it would be absolutely genuine and sincerely meant. He seemed to be the sort.

The further down into the city they went, the more Eleniel and Penny found themselves getting further and further behind the ellyn. They were not bothered. They stopped and chatted to whoever stopped to speak to them, some managing a little fractured Sindarin, but mostly it was Eleniel’s Westron that came into play for communication. A few locals laughingly noted that her Westron ‘sounded nearly as strange as that spoken in Rohan or by them there Periannath’.

Penny wondered what their reaction would be to Rhimlath if he ever tried out his Westron on them.

She dreaded to think.

It was quite something to see the city in daylight. Penny felt strangely at home. Surrounded by bricks and mortar and stone, paved road under her feet, she had a grin on her face all the way down.

Until they reached the Second Level, that is.

The damage she had seen in the darkened gloom of that first night was glaringly apparent in the bright summer sun.

Eleniel and Penny slowed, taking in the damage. As they did so, local residents, mainly women, often drying or cleaning their hands on their aprons, came out to recount tales of woe or derring-do involved in whatever pile of rubble they were currently staring at.

And it only got worse as they ventured into the First Circle.

“Lost five of my neighbours in that fire… Terrible it was…”

“She’s never been the same since, you know. She’s gone to stay with her mother down in Lossanarch, poor woman. But then, what do you expect? Lost all three sons and her husband, but it was finding her husband’s head in the street that really did it. She really should have left with the wains before the siege began like I did, but she insisted on being here to help with the wounded. She wouldn’t leave them, you see…”

“Oh, you should have seen him!” (This from a boy not much older than fourteen or so) “He was dashing in and out of the place, pulling us all from it, and then shouted at us so loud for not having gone up to the Fourth Circle like he’d told us! I got this burn,” he added proudly, showing a rather large and horrendous scar on his forearm. “He rescued my dog, too!” And a rather scruffy mongrel standing next to him barked and wagged its tail as if he knew he was being talked about.

The worst were probably the few times they walked past a house that was all shuttered up or they would pause in front of a pile of stone and burnt timbers and no one came out to tell them what had happened. Of course Penny well knew that several of these houses had become deserted even before the War, but it did not help to dispel the illusion.

Eventually they started back up the hill once more. Both of them were quiet and a little subdued, though doing their best to respond cheerfully enough to the smiles and greetings from the residents. Penny was mulling over what would be best – to come back as often as possible so as to get used to it, or avoid it as much as possible since she really found it very distressing. More than once Eleniel, without a word, had taken her hand and given it a reassuring squeeze.

As they passed through the gate into the Second Circle, a space on their left where a house used to be, Eleniel whispered, ‘It’s not your fault’ into Penny’s ear.

Penny wheeled round to stare at her in surprise.

“You said you had had some foresight of the War. So did many of us, Pen-ii. When you see the destruction here, it is hard not to feel… not to wonder if…” Eleniel hung her head.

Penny said nothing but just stepped up to her and put her arms around her. They stayed like that for a moment, hugging each other in silence, and when they finally pulled apart, Penny could see Eleniel had tears in her eyes mirroring her own.

They slowly made their way back up to the Seventh Circle. However, any melancholy was quickly dispelled thanks to the children skipping along beside them asking them a hundred and one questions about all things elvish. As a final treat, just as they were leaving the Sixth Circle a girl came hurrying out of her house carrying a dish.

“My mother asked me to give you some of these. Please, take some.”

On the dish were a few freshly baked, small white cakes.

Penny positively beamed.

They took one each and thanked her and told her to thank her mother also. Much to Penny’s delight, they proved to be quite delicious.

Life in Minas Tirith would quickly settle into a routine: breakfast with the hobbits (or Frodo at the very least) during which time she was tested on her vocabulary by Frodo, followed by Westron lessons with Erestor. Much as had happened in Rivendell, anyone who was nearby joined in during breakfast, even Rhimlath on occasion (though after he had been corrected once or twice by both Sam and Pippin in quick succession he was noticeably absent from future breakfasts).

The rest of the day would then be spent in various ways.

For the first few days the elves made a conscious effort to walk throughout Minas Tirith, stopping wherever people accosted them, walking into homes where invited, talking, singing and generally making their presence felt. Many were in fact wandering down the levels to head out into the Pelennor to assess the damage done and advise on how best to propagate and restore the damaged land and plants. Galadriel and the Galadrhim in particular were working hard in this regard, often riding out to the far reaches of the Pelennor which Gondorian nobles accompanying them.

The Dunedain had for some weeks already been making themselves useful, helping both the residents of Minas Tirith and those on the Pelennor to rebuild or clear rubble and detritus. Fairly soon the elves realised they could lend much needed manpower in this regard also and thus, much to Dúrion’s consternation (“But Lord Faramir, they are our guests… nobles… They can’t!”), were soon to be found at various points in the city or on the Pelennor getting dirty and sweaty (though never bare-chested much to Dúrion’s relief, though the ladies of Gondor were bitterly disappointed).

Equally, however, there was also much wandering about and letting the hours slip idly past. Those amongst the elves who were craftsmen in particular fields sought out their Gondorian counterparts, both to assess their workmanship, see what styles or skills were the fashion and take note or even pass on their expertise (if wanted or appreciated). There were even a few things for which Gondor was rightly famous: its glassware, for example. A skill which the elves were capable of but few indulged in these days.

After lunch, therefore, just about everyone Penny knew would be indulging in one or more of the above for the rest of the afternoon.

However, she had a rather pressing engagement with Erestor and a librarian.

And she was looking forward to it.

Author’s Notes:

Now, I admit it’s a case of the ‘pot calling the kettle black’ perhaps (given most of us who hang out in online fanfiction can admit to having been obsessed by computers, computer games and/or role playing at some point in our lives), but I just wanted to clarify that those examples directly refer back to Penny’s ex-boyfriends/love interests: namely the infamous Brian (the computer nerd) and the guy referred to way back when in Chapter Two of Don’t Panic – the guy who did historical re-enactments. So please no shouting about ‘Hey, I’m obsessed by that and I’m female.’ ;P And while I know many men can be terribly adult and serious when they want to be, I think most would also admit to carrying their ‘inner little boy’ around with them. As NL, my canon beta (and a man), put it once: men don’t grow up until around the age of seventy and then they die of boredom a week later. *grin*

I feel very guilty about not being able to reply properly (i.e. more than a mere 'thank you') to every review I get but time constraints and the sheer number of reviews means it is not always feasible. I am thankful SoA has an excellent direct reply facility, so I do use it when I can - my apologies for those times I have not been able to. I am also kicking myself for not thinking of this before (apologies) but I will try and answer questions left in reviews elsewhere on my ff.net forum. If you are at all interested then you can find the forum via my user info page on ff.net and the link is: http://www.fanfiction.net/f/497800/

As ever, thank you to all who take the time to read this thing, let alone take extra time out to leave a comment or some con crit – it is much appreciated.

As ever, my sincere thanks to all who take the time to read this and especially to those who review. I hope you are still enjoying it. I love reading all your comments and responses, and all con crit is gratefully received. If I haven’t got round to editing old chapters yet it is down to time constraints and being a bear of little brain, but I will, I promise! So, please keep any corrections coming my way. Thanks. :)

Chapter 29 – “A Cold Dish”

Penny was late for her meeting with Erestor, but then the chimes from the bell on the Tower of Ecthelion confused the heck out of her, so it was perhaps to be expected.

The hours were counted from sunrise, thus seven chimes was seven hours since sunup and not ‘seven o’clock’ as Penny thought of it. She had made a mental note to stop counting the chimes by the end of her first full day in Minas Tirith since it involved too much effort to try and work out what the time probably would be in her own terms. Thus, when she had finished lunch she had no clue if it was coming up to the sixth, seventh or even the eight hour.

Actually, truth be told, she had been so involved with the chatter around her as she had finished eating that she had not even heard the hour sounded, much less remembered to count it out.

The reason for this was simple enough.

Some time after Eleniel and Penny had sat down for lunch, the group from the sparring areas had joined them, looking freshly groomed and in clean tunics. The subsequent conversation had started as inconsequential, but soon enough it had changed…

“Glorfindel, would you kindly stop smirking at me. I slipped, I tell you!”

“Of course you did, Rhimlath.”

Sniggering broke out from around him, and even Faramir coughed into his cup.

“Ah, yes, how did you find the sparring area?” Arvain had finished his meal and was just enjoying the last of his wine.

“Excellent,” Lindir replied. “A little full of gangly persons underfoot, perhaps, but…”

There was a roar of laughter and Rhimlath turned puce.

“I HAD understood it to be a standard bout of practice moves,” he spluttered furiously, “not an opportunity to lash out like some deranged maniac!” He glared at Glorfindel as he spoke.

“Always be prepared, Rhimlath,” Glorfindel retorted as if he were teaching some elfling the very basics of swordplay. “I have to say if that is how you respond to an orc attack, then…”

“Oh, so you admit you behaved no better than an orc?”

More spluttering, choking and stifled laughter from the warriors at the table at that.

“WHY YOU…!”

“Now, now,” Lindir intervened. “Glorfindel simply caught you offguard, Rhimlath. It could happen to the best of us.”

“It could?”

“I was being generous, Glorfindel.”

“Ah, of course.”

Rhimlath looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“I am glad this is so amusing to you, Lindir.”

“It is, actually, yes.”

“I would like to see how Glorfindel fares with a bow against me.”

Glorfindel made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“I do not need to accept such a challenge, Rhimlath, I have already made my point…”

“I SLIPPED!”

“Well, if it makes no difference to you either way, Glorfindel, why not accept his challenge?” Celebdor reasoned with a faint smirk on his face. “What is the worst that could happen?”

“I would not wish to humiliate Rhimlath twice in close succession, Celebdor.”

“Ah, now, Lord Glorfindel, I do think that may be over-stating it a little…” Faramir interjected politely, clearly feeling Rhimlath was being hard done by.

Rhimlath, however, just laughed.

“I think you forget I am a Galadhrim, Glorfindel. We fight from the trees – we are skilled archers.”

“Do you think I have had no time to learn how to draw a bow in all my years, Rhimlath?”

“Ah, but did you learn from amongst the best? From those who themselves learnt from Beleg Cuthalion himself?”

Glorfindel muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Glorfindel?” Penny was enjoying this immensely.

“I believe he said that Beleg was not the only archer in Beleriand,” Lindir said.

Round about him everyone winced, even the Dunedain, but Lindir was smiling sweetly at Rhimlath as he spoke as if thoroughly looking forward to the inevitable explosion that would erupt as a consequence.

And sure enough, as if on cue…

So, perhaps it was understandable that, in the middle of Rhimlath telling Glorfindel in no uncertain terms what he thought of him and Glorfindel responding that ‘just for that he would accept his challenge and show him just how well a seasoned Noldo could wield a bow’, Penny forgot the time.

It was Halladan, sitting opposite her, who had been the one to gently point out that the seventh hour had already sounded.

“Were you not meant to be meeting Erestor?”

He had chuckled and grinned as Penny gasped, thanked him and then dashed off in a mad panic.

“Forgive me, Erestor,” she said, panting a little as she jogged up to him. “I had not realised the time.”

“Oh, the hour is not long past.” Erestor smiled, carefully closed the book he was reading and rose from the small bench. “Shall we?”

He led her off down to the Sixth Circle, then turning left towards the gate to the Fifth, and eventually up a set of steps to a small door set into the side of a very large building. The door opened into a small, dark vestibule with panelled walls and a wooden floor. There was a long, low bench along one wall and a wooden staircase that spiralled upwards.

“This way.”

Penny followed him up the staircase and then into a corridor, long and also wood panelled and dimly lit. All down one side were doors to various small rooms, and as they walked down it, Penny glanced into the few that were empty and had their doors ajar. In contrast to the corridor, these rooms had long, high windows to let in a lot of light. She could see benches and lecterns, inks and quills ranged ready, and some had huge and very ancient tomes left open on stands in front of the lecterns waiting to be copied.

“Ah, Lord Erestor!”

A man had stepped out into the corridor from a room near the far end and, on looking up and seeing them, came up to meet them. He was greying, had a slight stoop to his back, and small eyes that shone with warmth and sharp intelligence.

“I got your message and had wondered if you might arrive shortly. I was on my way down to the front door to await you. I take it this is your student with you, yes? A pleasure to meet… Oh.”

He had stepped towards Penny but now halted, taken aback as he realised she was not only female but human. He recovered himself well and smiled thinly, though not unkindly, inclining his head.

“Well met, my dear. I had no idea… I mean, I had assumed that… But no matter, no matter.” He threw one last curious glance at Penny as he turned back to Erestor.

“Lady Pen-ii has a great interest in history and learning, and particularly in the history of Gondor and Minas Tirith, and all the peoples related to it. I thought who better than your good self, Master Istdor, to answer all her questions.”

The librarian’s face lit up.

“Oh, but of course, Lord Erestor! I would be delighted. Come this way, Lady Pen-ii was it? Yes, yes, please, do follow me.”

“I will leave you in Istdor’s capable hands,” Erestor said as he turned to go.

Istdor was already bustling off down the corridor.

“Oh, ah, right. You are not…?”

“No, no, I have matters I need to attend to. Istdor will take care of you. Do not let him bore you – if you feel you have had enough just say so.”

Penny wondered if that was some sort of warning. Just what had she let herself in for?

Istdor had finally realised Penny was not glued to his side and had turned back to them, an expectant and slightly impatient look on his face.

“Go,” Erestor gestured down the corridor, a reassuring look on his face. “Trust me, you will learn much from him that I know you will find endlessly fascinating.” He was grinning.

“Thank you.” Penny steeled her resolve, smiled at Istdor and headed off down the corridor towards him. The moment he saw she was finally moving, he did not wait but disappeared round a corner. Penny sped up to catch up, leaving Erestor watching and chuckling slightly before he turned to leave back the way they had just come.

Istdor walked fast, and talked incessantly. He asked many questions of Penny at first, some of which she was able to answer, but others were so quickly superseded by others that she had no chance at all. It seemed something of her story had preceded her. Istdor had immediately realised she ‘must be the woman who had travelled south with the elves,’ apparently, and in so saying made Penny realise just how much she stood out to the locals.

She had little chance to dwell on it, though, since Istdor had moved on from that to asking her about Erestor and his tuition. He seemed impressed, if clearly slightly surprised, that a mortal female should be learning or interested in doing so.

“Well, your Sindarin is most impressive, I must say. A slight elvish accent to it, mark you, but that is to be expected, and given it is an elvish language by origin, that is no bad thing, no bad thing at all. Gives it a certain class and quality, I think, do you not agree?”

Meanwhile he was leading her down a large staircase, talking all the while, explaining when the library had been built, which families had donated what moneys towards the financing of it, and what sort of books it contained.

“We are quite proud of our collection.”

And Penny did not blame him in the least. Books on all sorts of subjects from all sorts of cultures had been collected over centuries, then painstakingly translated into Sindarin or Westron and were kept housed in various rooms and vaults within the library building.

“This is the larger reading room,” he said at last, opening a door into a small hall with tall windows high up in the far wall. A row of shelves lined with thick, aged tomes were set at right angles all along one wall and the rest of the room was filled with benches at long low tables and a few individual desks and chairs. There were only two people reading, but they were both ellyn, Penny noted.

“I see some of my companions are taking advantage of your lore.”

“Ah yes.” Istdor laughed as he replied. “Yes, yes, we have already had much interest in what books we have here. Of course, I do not doubt that with memories as long as theirs they can better remember what we have here in black and white…”

Something in his tone made Penny look at him closely. Had someone ruffled his feathers?

As he led her down the hall towards the far end, they passed by an elf Penny recognised as a Galadhrim.

“Ah, Istdor, I wanted to have a word with you about this History of Doriath. I think you will find there are a few errors in regard to some of the blade names borne by the guards of the Western Marches…”

“Indeed? How gratifying. Please do make a note, and I shall be back presently to learn all you can correct me on.”

Penny did everything she could to suppress the smirk. She suddenly felt terribly sorry for Istdor. They must be driving him crazy. She wondered if Rhimlath had found out about this place yet. She also wondered what sort of state Istdor would be in after two weeks of that kind of ‘helpful criticism.’

“It is a great benefit having such founts of knowledge here among us,” Istdor muttered conspiratorially to Penny, “but I do fear they will leave us with much work to be done once they have left.”

“They are only trying to be helpful, I am sure,” Penny replied diplomatically.

“Oh, indeed, indeed! Yes, yes, quite, quite. I am not complaining, no, no, not by any means. It is fascinating to meet so many elves in the flesh, truly it is: all that history and knowledge… I am quite taken by them all, I must admit, and I would learn as much as I can from them whilst they are here.”

Which admission kick-started him into a million and one questions once more, this time about her impressions of the elves, of Imladris, of Lothlorien and anything else Istdor could think of that he wanted to know about.

Eventually he reached a section of bookshelves and explained these were a few basic histories of Gondor.

“You are welcome to read through any you wish. They are all in Sindarin, so you should have no problems with the language. It may be there will be a few grammatical differences perhaps between our usage and the purer form used by the elves, but not enough that it will cause you problems, I should have thought. Of course, it is a subject dear to my own heart, so I will be happy to answer any questions you may have, but for now, if you will excuse me, I must just go and see what ‘errors’ are apparently in that book on Doriath…”

And he hurried back up the room to the waiting ellon.

Penny was in her element. The Tolkien-nerd in her was busy jumping up and down with wild abandon. She was having great difficulty suppressing a shit-eating grin. She would have to hug Erestor when she next saw him, she decided.

She picked out the first tome she came across and, taking it to the table and opening it at random, she found herself in the middle of the detailed life story of King Tarannon, husband of the infamous Queen Beruthial.

“Fantastic!” she breathed.

She did not get much opportunity to read, though, since Istdor was back in an hour, offering to give her a guided tour of the rest of the library.

“Or all of it that is generally open to most students of lore, at least.”

Penny wondered what would be completely off-limits, but did not get a chance to ask as Istdor carried on talking.

“Very delicate and ancient texts or parchments are stored elsewhere, as well as some that do not bear regular use.”

‘Do not bear regular use’? What did that mean? There was something heavily implied in that phrase but, for the first time since she had met him, Istdor seemed tight lipped. Penny made a mental note to try and make discreet inquiries of Gandalf, though she now had visions of books in Black Speech or tomes full of pornographic etchings squirreled away somewhere. Either possibility seemed a tad alarming, frankly.

Istdor’s tour was nothing if not comprehensive. He showed her the copying rooms and explained the process by which old books were carefully copied out, page by page, some with astonishingly beautiful illustrations. He showed her the smaller workrooms on the ground floor where the smell of leather and glue lay heavy in the air as books were rebound or newly copied books bound for the first time. He even introduced her to one or two of the scribes hard at their work with ink-stained fingers and a similarly bookish, intelligent look about the eyes as Istdor’s. One had a fairly rudimentary set of ‘pince-nez’ which Penny could not help but stare at – it was the first time she had seen anything resembling a pair of glasses since she had arrived in Middle-earth.

“Oh, these are a most intriguing invention,” Istdor was explaining, presuming she was staring because, being a strange foreigner, she could not have any idea what they were, “the glass… you see the glass here, how it is shaped and rounded? Well, the glass, when you place it against the eye helps someone with poor sight to see better.”

“Yes, we have things like this in my society.”

“Oh. Do you?” Istdor seemed really quite deflated to hear this.

“But not as beautiful as these,” Penny added quickly, noting the silver frame and the delicate silver chain attached to them.

Istdor beamed.

As the tour continued, Istdor seemed equally pleased with Penny’s genuine interest in everything he was telling her. Her many questions were answered with great enthusiasm and a bewildering amount of detail.

He was like a human Rhimlath.

“Ah, but I must be boring you, my dear.”

“Not at all. But do you not have work to do? Important cataloguing or copying to oversee or attend to?”

“Well, yes… but I am glad to have been able to teach a little of our culture and history to one so eager to learn. It is something of a novelty, especially given you are a woman.”

Penny bit her tongue.

“Have you seen the rest of the city yet? You seem so interested in Gondor’s past that really you need to have someone who can explain in detail the significance of various districts, the way certain areas are constructed and the like.”

Penny beamed. “Are you offering to show me round the city, Master Istdor? I would be honoured! Truly!”

“Oh, well, ah, now…” Istdor, a man nearly old enough to be Penny’s grandfather, seemed slightly embarrassed at such an effusive response. “I am glad that it would interest you.”

“Very much! I do not want to take up your precious time, though.”

“Oh, no, no, think nothing of it.” Indeed, as he had said, Istdor seemed only too happy to have a willing audience.

He left her back in the reading room. There she immersed herself in the details of Kings and Queens of yore once more until a gentle voice roused her from reading about the Battle of the Dagorlad from the Gondorian point of view. It was Istdor pointing out that it would soon be time for supper.

“May I walk you up to the Seventh Circle, Lady Pen-ii?”

She thanked him, put her book back on the shelf where she had found it (little leather markers were left in a box at one end of a bookcase for you to place where you had taken the book from while you had it with you at the table), and then dutifully followed him back through the maze of corridors.

As they made their way up the street, Istdor pointed out things of note, explaining heraldic symbols carved above doorframes, what centuries or fashions were denoted in the shapes of windows or the style of brickwork, or else what families of note lived where and what their ancestors had gone down in history doing. Indeed, by the time they reached the courtyard with the White Tree, he was in full flow, so much so that Penny had to cough discreetly and gently take him by the arm since he seemed to have forgotten about supper entirely.

“Oh, ah, yes, of course, of course. Yes, yes, do carry on…”

As they entered the Hall of Feasts Penny paused, scanning the room quickly to see if she could see… Ah, yes. Perfect!

“Master Istdor, there is someone I must introduce you to.”

Penny headed over to the far side of the Hall where a small group of elves and Dunedain had just settled themselves at the far end of a table.

“Ah, Pen-ii!” Rhimlath looked up from across the table and spotted her. “Where have you been all afternoon?”

“The library. Erestor took me. It’s the most wonderful place!”

The elves smiled approvingly, the Dunedain looked pleasantly surprised and the few Gondorians within earshot looked astonished or amused. Istdor hovered next to Penny, smiling at the Dunedain he already knew.

“Do, please, take a seat, Master Istdor. You are most welcome.” Halladan, seated to Rhimlath’s left, smiled and gestured to the space opposite him between Lindir and Celebdor.

Penny seated herself on the other side of Lindir and introduced Istdor to those he did not already know as she did so.

“And this, Master Istdor,” she said at last, “is Lord Rhimlath. I think the two of you will get along famously. Lord Rhimlath is a great lover of lore and history, so you will learn much from him, especially regarding Lothlorien which is where he hails from.” Istdor seemed very pleased to hear this and smiled broadly at Rhimlath as Penny continued. “Master Istdor is in charge of the library here in Minas Tirith, Rhimlath. He has extensive knowledge of Gondorian history as well as access to an extraordinary number of books from far and wide and collected over what even you would call ‘a long period of time.’”

Rhimlath looked nearly as pleased to meet Istdor as Istdor did to meet him. Indeed, almost immediately the two fell into a deep conversation asking umpteen questions of the other. Fairly soon, however, it settled itself into mostly a sort of impromptu lecture by Rhimlath to a one-person audience, with Istdor barely touching his food as he listened with rapt attention, hanging off Rhimlath’s every word. Very occasionally Istdor would respond with a very lengthy and tedious question, or pick up a point Rhimlath had made about Lothlorien history and compare to some equally obscure and esoteric aspect of Gondorian culture. The pair seemed to be absolutely in their element and as happy as Larry.

Penny felt quite pleased with herself.

Lindir, sitting opposite one and next to the other, seemed less impressed, however. Indeed, he seemed to be eating as fast as possible so as to make a bid for freedom at the earliest opportunity. Once done, he refused a top-up of wine and pushed his plate forward, making as if to rise from his seat with a muttered apology.

“Oh, are you leaving?”

“Er, yes, Pen-ii, there is something… I have to… I am sure that Erestor mentioned that…”

“Oh, but you must not leave just yet. Master Istdor? Forgive me interrupting, Rhimlath, but I feel Master Istdor would be most interested to learn who he is sitting next to.”

Lindir froze, looking at Penny in horror.

“Oh, but of course! Yes, indeed, how remiss of us, Pen-ii.” Penny’s prompt had been all the encouragement Rhimlath needed. “Lindir is amongst the most famous writers of epic ballads and songs still resident here in Middle-earth, Istdor. I feel sure you will find him more than willing to discuss his pieces and the detailed history upon which they are based. Not only that but as a resident of Imladris, he will be able to give you some idea of life there which is, of course, a little different to Lothlorien.”

“A writer of songs!” Istdor turned to Lindir, beaming broadly. “Oh, but this is too wonderful! Over many years I have been trying to make a collection of great epic ballads, as I was telling Lady Pen-ii earlier…”

Lindir flashed Penny a furious glance. She adopted her best innocent expression and smiled brightly back at him.

“…it may well be I have collected one or two of yours, Lord Lindir, without even realising it! Ah, what a thrill it would be if that were the case, would you not agree? I absolutely insist you let me learn as much from you as possible while you are here. I must write down as many of them as you care to recite so that they may be recorded for future generations of Gondorians to enjoy…”

“Oh, I am sure Lindir would thoroughly enjoy that,” Rhimlath answered for his friend, clearly oblivious to the fact that Lindir would have thoroughly enjoyed anything but. “He is a dear friend of mine, and I am sure he would not mind me saying this, but some of his ballads on the great battles in the north, against the Witchking and the like, are sung even in Valinor itself.”

Istdor’s eyes opened wide in admiration. “Oh,” he breathed quietly, looking at Lindir in near reverence. “You really must allow me to copy those down, my lord….”

“But of course,” Lindir replied, through gritted teeth, forcing himself to smile politely. “I would be delighted.”

“Splendid, splendid!” Rhimlath seemed terribly pleased that Lindir was so willing to humour his new friend. “We should make a start right away. There is much to be done, but in the meantime, why not tell Istdor here a little of life in Imladris?”

“I will leave you, if you do not mind,” Penny said, rising from her seat. Lindir turned in his seat.

“No, no, please do stay,” he urged, his eyes narrowed. “After all, it was you who introduced us to-”

“I am afraid I cannot, Lindir,” Penny replied as quick as flash, smiling serenely. “I said I would seek Lady Meresel out after supper, and I do believe I have just seen her making her way out into the courtyard. Besides, Istdor has had enough of my company for one day, I am sure. Thank you, Master Istdor, for today. I shall look forward to my tour of the city. In fact, why don’t you join us, Lindir?”

Lindir stared at her in shock before wheeling in his seat to splutter at Istdor.

“Well, I, er…”

“Oh, yes, you must, Lord Lindir. I think you will find it particularly interesting. You also, Lord Rhimlath.”

“But of course,” Rhimlath replied. “Lindir and I accept your offer gladly.”

Lindir blinked, looking not unlike a rabbit caught in headlights, while Penny left the table with an unmistakable smirk on her face.

Understandably enough, perhaps, no one else stayed at the table either to keep Lindir company and listen to any more of Istdor and Rhimlath outdoing each other in academic verbosity. Poor Lindir was stuck there, marooned and fuming, thanks to Penny counting on his innate good manners and affability.

She glanced back at the three to see Istdor giving chapter and verse about who knew what.

She sniggered.

“Pen-ii?” Celebdor shot her a curious glance.

“I said I would get him back for Lothlorien, let alone the umpteen other occasions he’s caught me out, did I not?”

Halladan, Arvain and Celebdor looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

As they stepped outside, they found that dusk was drawing in but it was still warm, though there was a pleasant breeze this high up in the city that meant it was not uncomfortably so. Penny spotted Eleniel, Meresel and Mireth and went off to join them, leaving the three males still chuckling and sniggering at the top of the steps.

“Ah, I have to say Lindir has only himself to blame,” Celebdor said, laughingly. “She has warned him for many weeks now.”

“Well, from what Father told us she was never a woman to be under-estimated in that respect. ‘Strong-willed’, I think was his description.”

“That was one of the more polite terms, brother,” Arvain sniggered.

“Ah, well, yes…” Halladan looked a little embarrassed at admitting such a thing in front of Celebdor.

“Oh, I would not fear,” Celebdor said, slapping Halladan on the back. “Your father said as much to us back in Imladris at the time. Would have said it to her face more than once, I do not doubt, if she had understood him.”

“Oh, I believe he did on several occasions during their journey alone together,” Halladan replied, now laughing in his turn.

“Where is she?”

The three turned to see Lindir behind him, looking if not furious, then certainly not his usual, happy-go-lucky self.

“Now, Lindir, you have to admit she has given you fair warning that she would...”

“I just wish to congratulate the little minx on a hand well played, Celebdor.” Then he spotted her. “Ah, Pen-ii.” He started off down the steps towards her. “No, do not try and hide behind Mireth… I want to have a word with you…!”

“There you are, Lindir! Where are you rushing off to? No, no, this way. Istdor wants to introduce us to some of his students, including one who shares his love of ballads. They may know some you would be interested in hearing…”

Rhimlath dragged him back inside.

“Tell her I will find her later and give her a piece of my mind,” Lindir muttered to Celebdor as he left.

“I would start running now if I were you,” Celebdor shouted down to Penny, grinning hugely.

Penny then had to explain what had occurred at Eleniel’s insistence. She and Mireth were giggling hysterically, especially after Meresel said she felt sorry for Lindir.

“Well, if he is anything like Rhimlath…” Eleniel began.

“Oh, he is,” Penny interrupted, “He is like a mortal version.”

Mireth’s eyes opened wide in horror before she collapsed into hysterics. “Ai, poor Lindir!”

“Be fair, Mireth,” Penny replied. “You enjoyed Rhimlath’s tours of Lothlorien as much as I did. And I feel sure Istdor’s tours of Minas Tirith will be just as fascinating.”

“Yes, that is a fair point,” Mireth conceded. “I still do not think Lindir will appreciate it.”

“Tough,” Penny replied. They started laughing again.

“I have to say I do think it rather unkind to use Master Istdor in such a way for some personal joke.” This was said in Westron.

“That is not what happened, Sidhwen, and you know it.”

“Do I? Forgive me, Meresel, if I have misunderstood. After all my Sindarin is not fluent, as you know. It is a shame we cannot converse in Westron, but then Lady Pen-ii’s Westron is limited, of course.”

“Why don’t you go and see if the minstrels plan on playing any dances,” Meresel suggested, her tone kind and friendly. “Lord Arvain looks most bored there on top of the stairs. I am sure if you asked him nicely, he would have a turn or two with you on the floor.”

Sidhwen tried to look as if she did not realise that Meresel was just trying to get rid of her.

“Do you plan on going back to the library?” she asked Penny, still speaking in Westron quite deliberately. Meresel translated.

“Oh, yes. Library very good.”

Sidhwen raised an eyebrow. However, several other ladies-in-waiting were murmuring things about perhaps paying a visit or badgering their brothers to lend them some books. Sidhwen, hearing such comments, made a noise expressing both annoyance and disgust and finally took up Meresel’s suggestion. She took several of her friends with her, collecting Arvain en route, as she headed back into the Hall.

Meresel, Penny was pleased to learn, turned out to be a charming woman. Kindly, warm, witty and quietly spoken. She began explaining to Penny some of the intricacies of courtly life and the characters therein.

“And he got married far too young to a rather unattractive but very nice woman who has a lot of land south of the city, but we all know where his heart truly lay. Alas it was not to be, but it does mean he and the man his true love married have never really seen eye to eye. There was a scandalous incident some years back when they had both had a little too much to drink at a wedding feast and nearly came to blows.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that,” someone interjected. “It was Lord Boromir who stepped in to separate them, was it not?”

“Yes, indeed.” Meresel sighed. “It’s their wives I feel sorry for.”

For all the bitching and sniping that went on, there was also a clear sense of camaraderie amongst many of the ladies of Gondor. The War had helped, so Penny, Mireth and Eleniel were told. Several women had stayed behind to help in the Houses of Healing, whether as nurses or simply to provide food, provisions or even just company to the wounded and dying.

“Of course, some would not have demeaned themselves to such menial labour,” Meresel added, naming no names but clearly with a few in mind. “So it was perhaps no bad thing that those were among the women who had followed Lord Denethor’s edict and fled south for safety. No one forced those of us who remained to help, but once we did, it was only right and just that we should all do what little we could, no matter our upbringing or status. I for one was glad to do what I could, whether it was chopping up vegetables for a healthy broth for those invalided, or simply reading out loud to those who were bedridden to help keep their minds off their woes.”

She went on to explain briefly that her children had left the city with her mother to stay with relatives near Dol Amroth while her husband had been in the stand in Osgiliath, returning in the terrifying rout led by Faramir.

“I am not sure which would have been worse – to have been far away not knowing how he fared, or to stay as I did and then know full well the horror he faced with every passing minute during the siege.”

He had gone on to fight bravely on the Pelennor and in front of the Black Gate, and was one of the few who had survived relatively unscathed… physically at least. He was, though, not quite the same man he had once been, so Meresel confessed quietly - more withdrawn and at times quite sad.

Meresel also introduced Penny to several ladies of the court whom she described as ‘good friends’. Several were a fair bit older than she, and one was her mother (a matronly figure with a deceptively haughty expression who Penny took to instantly when she made a passing comment on seeing Sidhwen dragging Arvain around the Hall for a dance along the lines of how she felt sorry for Arvain being ‘badgered incessantly by that idiotic girl’).

Eleniel had been proved right: Penny did like Meresel, and it seemed it was mutual.

Throughout the evening there was already much talk about the upcoming fete and more than once Sidhwen could be heard declaring loudly to anyone who would listen that for ‘a low event for the average commoner it should provide some meagre entertainment,’ but most people ignored her.

When Penny told Meresel that Faramir had persuaded the elves to show some of their archery skill, Meresel declared that that would be nearly as entertaining to watch as the wrestling.

“I used to enjoy it as a young girl. Of course now I am a grown woman, and married to a noble at that, it is not wholly appropriate, but my husband’s young cousin will no doubt take a turn so I will see that bout at least.”

Penny blinked.

“Wrestling?” (She had had to have the word explained to her).

“Do you think some of the ellyn will get involved? I am sure some of the Dunedain might, even if some of our nobles disapprove. The men from the North seem much more at ease with different levels of society which is no bad thing in my book…”

Penny had a very hard time keeping images of Rhimlath or Faelon dressed in nothing but very tight, 'up-to-the-waist,' 50’s-style underpants, a pair of lace-up boots and brightly coloured gimp masks out of her head. She had to bite her cheeks to stop a fit of the giggles. She was sure that was certainly NOT the Gondorian idea of a wrestling match. No, it would be serious stuff. For a brief moment she thought of Olympic bouts she had seen and then had image of Rhimlath in an all-in-one lycra bodysuit.

NOT good.

Penny spluttered into her cup of wine, earning a strange look for those round her. She tried covering the laughter with a coughing fit.

Author’s note:

Yes, authorial/poetic licence in the ‘pince-nez’, but I consider they would be terribly basic and not much use if you were very, very short-sighted. Consider, also, that Bilbo has a clock on his mantelpiece – thus some flights of fancy in terms of technical ability is allowed in Middle-earth on occasion (or at least – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). ;)

Please also be advised I have reworded the author's note at the end of the last chapter since I think I expressed myself badly - my apologies.

Chapter 30 – “The Madding Crowd”

Lindir managed to catch up with her in the end. Admittedly, it took him most of the evening to do it, what with Istdor attached to him like a limpet or else Penny hurriedly steaming off in the opposite direction if ever she saw him coming, but at last he managed to escape ‘the Istdor and Rhimlath double-act’ and corner Penny between Gandalf and Arvain.

“You! You are a cunning, tricksy madam!”

“I shall take that as a compliment coming from you, shall I, Lindir?”

“What? No!”

“Ah, yes, I heard you introduced Istdor and Rhimlath, Pen-ii,” Gandalf interrupted. “Are you sure that was entirely wise?”

“If I had not, then I am sure Erestor would have done soon enough. Or else the moment Rhimlath found out about the library, he would have gone round there and introduced himself.”

“Ah, yes, most probably.” Gandalf chuckled into his wine, sharing a grin with Arvain.

“Yes, and now I have to put up with the pair of them prattling at each other about what shape chisels were used to carve the flowers in this hall’s roof beams, or exactly how many orcs were at the Dagorlad to the nearest half dozen (about which point there was a good hour long discussion, might I add)…”

He glared at Penny as he said this, making it clear that he had not particularly enjoyed being party to such anal retentiveness.

“And was the matter decided once and for all?” Penny asked serenely. “After all I would assume that Rhimlath, given he fought in that battle, would know…”

“Ah, but you see, some weighty and well-respected tome covered in dust in Istdor’s library insists that it was one number, and Rhimlath is equally adamant that it was another. There is a very polite debate still going,” he gestured behind him vaguely, “as to the accuracy of mortal and immortal chroniclers.”

Penny tried not to laugh. It was not helped by her catching Gandalf’s eye, since even though he raised an eyebrow at her, she could see the hint of a smile on his face.

“But such things matter to the historian, Lindir,” said Arvain, looking terribly earnest and straight-faced for a moment. “I mean, one thousand orcs or one thousand and one? That is a very serious question. It makes all the difference, you know.” He winked at Penny, and they both started laughing.

“It may be a serious question to the historian, Arvain, but Elrond looked less than impressed when Rhimlath grabbed hold of him and dragged him into the conversation just now, though it did at least give me the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Not only that, but I now have to spend days of my time here recounting every song I have ever written and explain my process in minute detail!”

“Oh, Lindir, I am sure you are actually terribly flattered to have someone of Master Istdor’s learning and intelligence showing such an interest in your skill and artistry,” Penny protested. “Your songs are rightly famous even amongst the noblest of elves, so what can it hurt for a mortal to show some appreciation of your work?”

Lindir looked suitably mollified by that.

“Besides,” she continued, “I did not intend for it to happen, really I did not. My main objective was to introduce Rhimlath to a fellow lover of lore. You just… well, you just happened to be sitting in the middle of it all, and it was too perfect an opportunity to miss because I knew it would annoy you.”

She looked at him, trying to suppress a grin.

“I will get you for this,” he muttered.

“Ah, now, Lindir,” Arvain remonstrated, “from what I understand, Pen-ii was only retaliating for various things you and Celebdor have put her through all the way down.”

“Oh, she gives as good as she gets, Arvain, trust me!”

“Does she now?” Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

“There are limits, Gandalf, I assure you,” Penny replied. “I for one would never dye a certain balrog slayer’s hair green, for example.”

“Quite,” Gandalf replied, smooth as you like and ignoring Lindir’s spluttered protests of innocence. “Master Istdor is a mine of useful information. Even as a boy he showed great promise with a quick brain and an ability to retain huge amounts of information. Of course his father was a scribe and became Chief Librarian in his time, so it was perhaps to be expected. He is a kindly soul, gentle, but understands more than might at first appear. He does not miss much and is a ‘wise old bird,’ as they say. Having the likes of these elves around, rifling through his collection and correcting every other sentence in them, will be a sore trial for him, I expect, but he will bear it with much patience and grace, I do not doubt.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lindir looked most affronted on his race’s behalf. “A sore trial?”

“Indeed,” Arvain said, grinning broadly. “Such are the hardships we mortals must bear when in such august company as yours. Elves are noble, tall, have lived many years and they never forget.” He paused. “Much like oliphaunts, now I think of it.”

“I beg your pardon!” Lindir looked furiously at Arvain as he and Penny collapsed into hysterics.

“Now, now, Arvain,” Gandalf chided. He was trying to look severe but completely failing to hide the smirk.

“Well, I like Istdor immensely,” Penny interrupted even as Lindir opened his mouth to start ranting at Arvain. “And you have to admit, Lindir, if you can put up with Rhimlath and consider him a good friend, then…”

“True,” Lindir admitted. “Master Istdor is nothing if not well-meant and perfectly pleasant.”

“Just occasionally long-winded, often absent-minded, and unfailingly obsessed with minutiae,” Gandalf finished for him. “But then,” he added, glancing knowingly in Penny’s direction, “That is not always a bad thing.”

His eyes twinkled slightly as he said it, and Penny, though she said nothing, grinned back and agreed with him absolutely.

“That reminds me. Gandalf, what would Master Istdor have been referring to when he spoke about some books in the library that were hidden away and ‘did not bear regular use’?”

Gandalf’s face became dark.

“Ah, right. Forget I asked. I did wonder if that was one possibility.”

“Why? What did you think the other possibilities would be?”

“Er… Oh, look, there is Mireth. Would you excuse me?” Penny hurried off as fast as she could, hoping she was not blushing too furiously.

Behind her, Arvain took one look at Gandalf’s and Lindir’s astonished expressions and roared with laughter.

The following day was not terribly remarkable, perhaps, but Penny had more than enough to distract her. She made another trip to the library in the morning and found Rhimlath already there, perusing the tomes with a fine tooth comb looking for ‘unfortunate errors’ that he was only too pleased to point out. He told her with some pride that Istdor had made arrangements for him to sit with a scribe for an hour or so a day so that he could leave his knowledge on Lothlorien’s history for future generations of Gondorians to enjoy.

“Of course, it is entirely understandable that he should ask such a thing of me. The few tomes I have looked through regarding Lothlorien here are woefully inadequate, and there is almost no other elf who knows the detailed lore of our people as well as I do.”

“Has he asked Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel to share their knowledge of Lothlorien?” Penny asked.

It had been a genuine question but it had the added (if unintentional) bonus of flummoxing Rhimlath completely. He muttered something about ‘well, of course, I would not dare to presume… I did not mean to suggest that I… they should not be troubled by mere mortal whims and I am only too happy, in their stead, to um …’ and then hurriedly made his way back to the bookshelves with a faintly embarrassed cough.

After lunch, Meresel, accompanied by Eleniel and one or two other ladies of Gondor, showed Penny round the royal apartments (or at least the Queen’s royal apartments and those open to the court as a whole). Arwen told Penny she should spend more time with them all.

“Come and practice some of your sewing,” she said. “There is often an hour or two in the afternoons when we are all together, talking and gossiping. I am learning much about the city and its people from the ladies at court.”

“And about the ladies themselves,” Eleniel murmured into Penny’s ear.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the company of the hobbits as they recounted some of their adventures to her.

At breakfast that morning she had let slip that she missed her cups of tea. She had had no opportunity since her arrival in the city to make it herself as yet and felt too shy to start ordering servants about and ask for boiling water herself. Frodo, of course, had overheard and with a cry of delight had translated to the other three who eagerly demanded to know if it was true: did she really have some tea with her?

“Yes, of course. Bilba insisted I bring some with me as well as a teapot and strainer.”

“Ah, good old Bilba!” Frodo had laughed. “In which case, you must bring some with you when you join us for afternoon tea. We have called it that even though we have had no tea to drink with our cakes and sandwiches. Indeed, I meant to say to you yesterday that you should join us, but I forgot at lunch and then there was no sign of you all afternoon.”

So it was she found herself in an antechamber with the hobbits in the mid-afternoon, with the sun streaming in through a large window at one end and making the tiles in the intricately designed floor shine brightly.

Apparently they had at first been offered some sumptuous rooms for this daily ritual at Durion’s insistence, but they had been equally adamant that being surrounded by so much gilding, brocade and finery was not conducive to good digestion.

“We are a simple folk,” Frodo had apparently told him. “We appreciate the sentiment, Master Durion, truly we do, but a plain room with chairs enough for ourselves and the few as may join us is all that we require.”

Even so, Penny suspected this was far from being the plainest room available. No doubt it served as a happy compromise. The walls were plastered and half-panelled with a dark wood. There was a tapestry on one wall and a fireplace opposite. Chairs with padded seats were ranged about, some near the fireplace, and a large table below the tapestry where the trays brought from the kitchens were placed, laden with cakes, fruit, bread, jam, fruit juice and milk. Pippin only managed to join them every other day but they always saved him something from their meal.

The tapestry itself showed a fair maiden wandering through rolling green fields and flower strewn meadows with woods in the distance and cottages in the foreground. Penny wondered if someone had picked this room with this particular scene in it especially since it was probably the nearest thing to a scene from the Shire as could have been found (bar the fact that the cottages were above ground, of course, and the maiden was no hobbit lass).

She had brought the tea, as promised, and soon enough a huge pot of it had been made. The hobbits were savouring their cups of it with happy sighs and contented smiles as if it were a rarefied wine. Merry declared that it was nearly as good a moment as when he and Pippin had come across the Longbottom Leaf floating about in Isengard, and in so saying kick-started the topic of conversation.

It was a very strange sensation for Penny to hear this story she knew so well (and knew from the hobbits’ point of view, no less) told from the horse’s mouth so to speak. It was wonderful and a little unnerving in many ways, though it was a relief to know that any indication she let slip of prior knowledge of the tale they told would not be considered strange since just about the entire world, his wife and his dog knew the intimate details of their stories by now (aside from the inhabitants of the Shire, that was).

The most unnerving moments came when certain bits of the story were skirted over, or else told by others on someone else’s behalf.

Thus Merry and Pippin did not relate what they had gone through at the hands of the uruk-hai, let alone the terror and horror of it, and jumped from Amon Hen to Fangorn quite quickly, though Sam and Frodo both commented on how horrible it must have been and how brave they were to keep their heads and find a way out of it.

Nor did they speak overly long of Boromir’s fall. Frodo did not translate Sam’s murmured comment of ‘And she was rather taken with him too, was she not?’ but Penny did wonder at the sad, sympathetic looks all four gave her at that point.

Merry did not speak of the battle on the Pelennor at all, though Pippin did start to explain who Merry had faced up to and what had happened till he caught Frodo giving him a meaningful look, glanced sideways to see Merry was looking at nothing in particular out through the window, and hurriedly changed the subject with a muttered apology.

Mordor too was barely mentioned. The only direct references to what Sam and Frodo had gone through were when Sam murmured something about not having a head for heights and hobbits not being made to ride about on giant birds and then going on to laughingly tell the tale of how he had had to face a spider in his bath tub not too long ago and had found it rather difficult.

“Had to call on Raz here to come to my aid!” He chuckled as he spoke. “’Now then, young Ban,’ I said to myself, ‘you are being nothing but ridiculous…’ which I was being, but then perhaps it was only to be expected in some ways. ‘You faced the darkness of Mordor itself and you cannot shoo one tiny spider out of a bath? Shame on you! The Gaffer would think you a right fool and no mistake,’ I said.”

They all laughed, but it was clear Sam was not letting on that the incident had probably put the wind up him a little – trying to use his usual self-deprecating humour to cover what had probably been quite a distressing moment for him. Frodo also looked a little strained round the eyes as he translated for Penny, as if he too would have been just as alarmed both by such a situation as well as his reaction to it.

“I think I should be scared of spiders in baths if I had been through what you went through,” Merry said with some feeling. “And it was not that small a one either from what Raz says.”

Raz indicated his palm as if to say it was nearly as big as his hand and Penny grimaced. Pippin laughed.

“Ah, but Pen-ii if you think that was bad, then how about one...”

He spread his arms wide to indicate something horribly, nightmarishly gigantic. Even if she could not follow all the Westron, Penny was left in no mistake as to what he was referring.

“Of course Bilba faced down such things in Eryn Lasgalen,” Frodo said quickly, trying to interrupt Pippin. “And Legolas has dealt with them on many an occasion.”

“Not as big as…” Pippin started.

“Is there any more tea?” Penny asked. Frodo glanced at her gratefully as Pippin jumped to his feet to take her cup and pour her some.

That night after supper she felt a little subdued, no doubt as a consequence of her tea with the hobbits and having heard them speak of such things. She refused various offers for a dance and went outside instead. She spotted Halladan, as ever sitting by himself, on the steps with a pipe in one hand and a tankard and his stick beside him.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” he replied with an easy smile.

He turned back to gaze out at the night sky once more, pulling gently on his pipe. They said nothing for a few minutes.

“You do not enjoy the company?” Penny gestured with her head, indicating the Hall behind them.

“Oh, it is not that so much, just that I am used to a quieter life and solitude. Such is the Ranger’s life. I am not the only Northman out here.”

He held the bowl of his pipe and gestured with the stem out at the courtyard. Penny could see several of the Dunedain ranged roundabout. Faelon was among them, chatting quietly to a group of Gondorian nobles.

“It must be difficult for those of you who fought to live life as before.”

She was not quite sure how to phrase it and tried to sound as vague as possible, not wanting to seem overly-familiar or prying.

“Not as before, Pen-ii. All has changed now He has fallen. Nothing will be the same and we all have to readjust, but I am glad: it is a great thing that has occurred. A great thing, unlooked for and almost beyond hope, and yet it came to pass.”

“I realise, I just meant…”

“I understood what you meant.”

There was a finality, a weight given in the way he spoke that told Penny that, as politely as Halladan could, he was making it clear that that was the end of the matter: whatever subject she may or may not be trying to broach was not to be discussed further and was none of her business.

It was a very Halbarad moment, Penny realised, since it was clear he would not be gainsaid on this, or indeed on any matter once he put his mind to it. Halladan really was like his father in some respects.

She wondered if he had truly understood what she had been driving at. Somehow she suspected he did.

“You were quiet at supper.”

“Was I? Perhaps I was a little preoccupied. I had tea with the kuduk. They were telling me something of their adventures since they left Imladris.”

He looked at her.

“Indeed? That must have been… difficult for you.”

“Oh, no more difficult than it was for them to relate in parts,” she said, attempting to sound breezy and reassuring, though she was not sure she managed it. “But there were parts that were not related at all,” she added, a more serious tone to her voice, “if you understand me.”

“I understand you,” he replied. He turned back out to contemplate the sky once more and muttered quietly so Penny could not hear him, “Yes, I understand you completely.”

They fell into silence once more.

“You should take up Legolas on his offer,” Halladan said at last. “Talk about such things with someone who will not be as affected in relating them and also understands your situation.”

Penny agreed he was right and promised she would do so. She noted that he did not offer to speak of such things, but then she could hardly blame him, and he had also made it fairly clear such a topic was off-limits.

There was no such opportunity to speak to Legolas immediately, however. Penny was still easily tired and went to bed soon afterwards, and the next day was market day.

Not everyone was hugely interested in the market itself since markets are often much the same no matter where you go, except that the local produce may change. However, there was also to be the fete, of course, and not only that but the fact that many traders would be coming from far and wide on hearing there were a huge number of foreigners (and clearly very rich ones at that, it was assumed) newly arrived in the city meant that there was likely to be more on offer than just various kinds of cheeses, fruits and vegetables and the odd bit of basket-weaving. Thus if only for this week the market was elevated above the status of your ordinary bog-standard one, and even those who already knew the Minas Tirith market well would be wandering down to see what new wares were on display.

The previous evening Penny had shyly asked Faramir if he thought there would still be the same sort of things for sale the following week. She had a few coins the elves at Imladris had given her in exchange for the items of pottery she had decorated that had been taken to be sold, but she wanted to see what there was on offer before actually attempting to spend any money. She had no idea how much the coins she had were worth, very little she suspected, and it may be when it came down to it she would have enough for a couple of apples and no more, but that was not the point.

No, the point was that she was used to being fairly independent. This living on others’ hospitality made her feel a little uncomfortable, but at least at Imladris she could chip in and help with the work. Since they had left, however, she had felt a growing… not unease exactly, but a discomfiture that only seemed heightened now she was surrounded by bricks and mortar, stones and paving. That vague sense of familiarity only brought home just how very different her life now was, and it was a very small thing, perhaps, but the idea of buying something herself with her own money was something she was greatly looking forward to.

Hence her question.

She did not want to make a rush decision, especially if her funds were as limited as she suspected they might be, and then regret it. She would prefer to look over what was available and then come back the following week and make a considered choice.

Of course she did not dream of trying to explain all of this to Faramir.

“Oh, I would have thought so. Yes, the fete will mean there will be many people there, but it will be busier than usual for as long as the elves are here among us I suspect. Indeed, it has been busier than it has been in many years for a good few weeks…”

So today would be ‘window shopping’ in Penny’s eyes.

Not that there would be any ‘windows’, admittedly, but no matter.

Penny, Mireth and Eleniel decided to have breakfast in the hall. Rhimlath and Istdor, who had spent nearly the entire day together yesterday, were already there seated side by side. Rhimlath was explaining he would be most interested if there were any artisans from further afield than just Minas Tirith.

“Oh, almost certainly, my lord Rhimlath. Almost certainly.”

“Always interesting to note different styles in even the most basic of accoutrements, I find.”

“Oh, indeed, indeed. Yes, yes, quite. I have quite a collection of spoons, you know. You would be amazed at the subtle differences in length of the handle or width of the bowl…”

Pippin was in full flow, explaining matters to Celebdor, as Penny, Mireth and Eleniel sat down.

“…stalls with the most wonderful fruit on them - apples and pears and plums, three different kinds of plums at least last week, as well as fruits native to these climes such as peaches and apricots...”

“Oh, now those ‘apricot’ fruits are delicious, I must say and no mistake,” Sam interrupted. “They had some of those in with the wedding food, Celebdor, so you will remember them, I do not doubt. They dry terribly well too. I will have to take some back to Suza with us, the dried, I mean, and maybe even a couple of the stones, because you never know, I have a nice south-facing bit of wall that might just suit…”

“I have heard they make some particularly good linens here in Gondor,” Eleniel began. “I will certainly be looking out for things that may be useful for us in Imladris. Now the War is over, trade will be that much easier…”

“…and oranges and lemons…”

“…need to look out for any silversmiths from Dol Amroth…”

“…spectacular colours of dyes, because they have such different native plant species here. There is a very vibrant blue cloth that comes from the desert lands in Harad…”

The table was buzzing with excitement just about the market alone.

“And what about you, Pen-ii? Anything you are looking forward to casting your eye over?”

“Oh, all of it, Halladan!”

He laughed.

“It is true! I have not been to a market in… well, in a very long time. They give such a good sense of a place, of a people. I have been looking forward to this for days!”

“It is quite something,” Legolas admitted. “Such bustle and noise and people everywhere you look. The spice stalls are particularly extraordinary. The colours…!”

“They could still do with some good, basic metalwork to my mind,” Gimli grumbled.

“Well, no doubt when you bring some of your fellow dwarves here, you can show them how it should be done,” Legolas replied.

It was not entirely clear whether he was being sincere or facetious. Gimli raised his eyebrows at him but Legolas just helped himself to another bread roll and said nothing.

“Pen-ii? When you are ready…”

Penny glanced up to see Erestor, armed with his Westron grammar, standing behind Halladan. She blinked at him.

“You are joking?”

“Not at all.”

“But… but the market, the fete…”

“They will still be there in an hour.”

“Surely one day will not matter, Erestor.”

“Perhaps not, Eleniel, but then again we will only be here in Gondor for a short time. I would prefer not to miss any opportunity.”

Penny looked round the table, appealing for help.

“There will be no denying him,” Mireth murmured. “Best go. We will wait for you.”

“No, no, go ahead. I can catch you up.”

“Nonsense,” Halladan retorted. “Erestor is right. One hour will not make much difference, and besides the fete itself will not really get going for a few hours yet. Some of us have seen much of what the market has to offer already, so an hour here or there will make little difference.”

“Exactly,” Legolas agreed. “We will meet you in the courtyard when you are done.”

Penny, glowering at Erestor for making her feel like some schoolchild half her own age, thanked the others and headed off for her lesson.

She was still peeved when she came out into the bright sunlight an hour later.

Across the courtyard, near the little alley that led to her lodgings, she could just make out Legolas, Halladan, Mireth, Celebdor, Arvain and Eleniel in a group waiting for her, and she was glad they had waited for her. She had not brought her Westron ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ to breakfast, and Erestor had not insisted she fetch it for his lesson, so she had no reason to return to her chambers and thus they could set off straight away.

They took their time strolling down through the circles, chatting and laughing as they did so. Even by the time they made it down into the second circle the numbers in the street had noticeably increased, and all of them heading downwards. Already the group had met many other elves and Dunedain, and Merry and Sam could be seen darting in and out of the crowds up ahead somewhere. Somehow being with this large a number of people made it easier for Penny to ignore the obvious signs of war damage, for which she was grateful. It was only the second time she had been here in daylight, after all.

Once in the first circle, the main thoroughfare was alive with locals and visitors alike, many of the former armed either with baskets or servants to carry their purchases. Every now and then a small voice would shout for people to make way and the crowd would part to let a boy pulling a small cart laden with foodstuffs come past them and take his load up to richer, wealthy families in the upper circle or even all the way to the Citadel itself.

Penny, Mireth and Eleniel had soon formed a girlie huddle, with the males sauntering along behind them. There was much staring and pointing by the locals. Even Halladan and Arvain, though familiar faces by now, were worthy of note given they were ‘north men, kin to King Elessar and among that band of warriors who had fought so fiercely in the field’. Many shouted out to them by name as they passed by, and several times the brothers stopped to talk to whoever it may be, introducing their friends as they did so.

The market was held in the huge main square in front of the main gates, though it also spilled over into the surrounding streets and out onto the Pelennor a little as well. Hence even before they reached the marketplace proper, there were stalls in the street or sellers with baskets all round them, filled with their produce. In the side streets the local artisans had their shopfronts open and stuffed full with examples of their craft.

Penny was blown away by it all. It was everything she had hoped, and more.

There were fruit merchants, farmer’s wives with umpteen kinds of vegetables, live animals of various sorts in baskets and boxes, penned or newly killed and being busily plucked at someone’s request (and they would be charged extra to take the feathers away with them). There was a man with baskets of apples here, a woman with three wicker boxes of chickens piled high there. Nearby there was another woman selling numerous stoppered pots of honey on a small trestle table along with boxes of candles and blocks of wax. Next to her a swarthy looking youth with half a dozen geese penned into one corner was taking money for them one by one hand over fist, and someone who was likely as not his mother was sat on a stool selling goose eggs from a large basket at her feet.

It went on and on.

Away from the best spots in the markets (which were all taken by locals and regulars, with the most prominent pitches reserved for the highest bidders) were some of those traders from further away. Here were found fishmongers with great boxes of dried and salted fish and pots of that infamous fish paste Penny had learnt about at the wedding; traders from Dol Amroth or further south who had fruits and wares not often seen before the end of the War, such as dates and fragrant incense; other traders had brought spices with them and great sacks of the stuff lay open round them, little wooden measuring scoops in each one, and the smells as you passed by, let alone the colours, were extraordinary.

There were cheeses, butter shaped into pats with designs in the top, sausages both dry-cured and fresh for cooking which you could buy by the yard if you wanted. Shoes were mended; buttons were sold that were made from knotted leather, carved bone, wood or mother-of-pearl; and if you did not have enough coin for whatever it was you wanted, you could trade or barter (or try).

Then there were the leather workers (who would buy skins as well as sell them along with their finished bags and water sacs), the basket weavers with their stacks of trugs and baskets of every conceivable shape and size, the carpenters with rough spoons and bowls, brooms and tool handles, the silver-smiths, the potters and glass blowers.

Most of these were to be found in their little workshops in the side streets – nothing more than large rooms with one side open where you could watch them work and see piles of finished items around them – but several from further afield had trekked in by cart or donkey with a few small items to sell to the ‘new rich folk in town’ and were in the main market square or else forced out by the numbers of traders onto the edge of the Pelennor itself.

The place was buzzing, and the morning fairly flew by.

Eleniel found two different sellers of linens and cloths, and was much impressed by what she saw. The fine, yet light cloth that was distinctively southern would be delightfully cool in the height of summer and Eleniel ordered for several bolts to be sent up to the Citadel for Arwen’s assessment. She also found some dyed in the electric blue of the desert nomads – it was every bit as astonishing as she had described, and even Penny could not quite believe it was a natural dye (though it could, of course, be nothing else). A bolt of that was sent up to the Citadel as well because even if Arwen did not like it Eleniel said she would take it back to Imladris with her.

“Covered in silver, gold and white embroidery, with gems and pearls… Ah, it would look exquisite!”

Penny did not doubt it would.

They soon met up with others, since just about everyone was taking a look at the astonishing array of goods for sale. Lindir joined them, having shaken off Istdor and Rhimlath who were busy comparing notes over bowl rims and how they were indicative of cultural expression over the centuries. Mireth and Celebdor wandered off together to admire the glasswork, for which Gondor, and Minas Tirith in particular, was well-known.

Then Lindir wanted Eleniel’s advice regarding some material he had spotted that he thought would make a fair tunic, Legolas had headed off back up to the Citadel to fetch his bow for the archery competition later and so for a little while Penny was left alone in the company of the brothers. As they wandered past the baskets and tables of fruit, it was clear there was much that seemed familiar to Penny – things she recognised that the others had either never seen before they had come to Gondor or else would not grow well in the colder northern climate.

“Ooh, limes!” Penny exclaimed in English. Arvain looked slightly mystified.

“Do you mean those green fruits that look a little like small lemons?”

“They are similar to lemons. Same family, but not quite the same. Very different flavour. And we call those ones ‘peaches’ in my tongue, and ‘apricots’ and… oh, ‘avocadoes’! I love those! And how many different kinds of melon?” She gasped. “‘Cantaloupe’! It must be!”

Halladan blinked at her. “You know all these fruits? They have them where you come from?”

“There… are a lot of traders where I come from. We get fruit from all over the place.” Which was true even if it did not fully explain the situation. “Vegetables also.”

Thus they were astonished to learn that she called those brown things on sticks ‘dates’ in her tongue but had never liked them, though she had to admit when the seller insisted she try one that these were far sweeter and more delicious than anything she remembered. She recognised coriander, revealed she had indeed eaten squid before now (though admittedly not pickled), and declared the white salty cheese that seemed to be a speciality in these parts was called ‘feta’ in her language.

So the whole experience was an eye-opener for all concerned, for a variety of reasons.

Eventually, they headed out onto the Pelennor. More traders with stalls and sellers with baskets were ranged around the gate, and there were little tents and awnings all over the place as the fete got underway. Various fires were going and meat roasting over them, being hand-turned on spits. Brewers were already doing a roaring trade, with many having hired boys with trays to go round offering a mug of ale for a small price which they would pour for you then and there from a jug, but wait till you were done with the mug before wandering off to find another customer.

As they made their way through the crowds, it was clear things were gearing up for an afternoon’s entertainment for the masses. Word of the fete had spread far and wide, and it seemed just about anyone with a talent or a trick had arrived in the hope of earning a few coins.

There was an awning over a rude platform on which mummers were performing. It seemed to have a cast of thousands, many of the characters played by one actor just changing masks, donning a false moustache or wearing a different hat.

As far as Penny could make out (it was all in Westron and a particularly thick, local dialect form to boot, so Halladan informed her) the story involved a maiden (played by a boy in dress that was several sizes too big for him and clearly had a couple of oranges stuffed into the front) who had been dragged off by two particularly ugly and stupid trolls (who were the comic relief judging from the huge amount of laughter, hooting and general noises of derision they generated from the crowd) and had to be rescued by the daring hero (who was a well-meaning idiot). The daring hero was aided and abetted in this enterprise by his horse (a man in a rough-hewn horse’s head) who was clearly far more intelligent than his owner and thus the brains of the operation.

Apparently this was all terribly amusing, and possibly even a tad crude: one joke that got a particularly raucous reaction from the crowd made Halladan and Arvain splutter and cough (though whether in surprise or an attempt to not laugh Penny was not entirely sure) and then drag Penny away rather quickly.

There was a troop of puppeteers entertaining adults and children alike with ancient tales of battles and kings. Here too there were puppets of orcs and trolls, and Penny reflected on the fact that such things were the stuff of everyday life to most people rather than pure fantasy and fairytale. Having an orc in a puppet show was probably much like having the crocodile in Punch and Judy.

The few nobles wandering through the crowd kept their distance and smiled indulgently at whatever pastimes came into view. Clearly much of what was on offer was considered rather rustic and beneath them.

The elves showed a similarly detached interest, as an adult may observe a child at play, clearly seeing most of this as a fascinating expression of mortal and Gondorian culture. However, some of it was a little too ‘rough and ready’ even for the elves of Imladris who were more used to mortals and their idea of entertainment, since the mummers came close to being told to sling their hooks at one point after a particularly frank and obscene exchange between ‘Troll Two’ and ‘Hero’s Horse’ was conducted just as Celeborn, Elrond, Faramir and Elladan had stopped to see the show for a moment. Faramir had been most apologetic, but the ellyn, as clearly shocked as they were, muttered something about understanding the mortal obsession with such things and for Faramir not to concern himself.

When Durion heard about it, though, he gave the mummers what-for. They replied to the effect that ‘they only gave the people what the people wanted. Besides elves had children and presumably by the same means that mortals did, did they not? So what, exactly, was the problem?’ Durion’s response to that was quite something, so it was said. ‘Exploding like Mount Orodruin’ would be putting it mildly.

However, at Elrond’s behest the mummers were not put a stop to.

“After all this is a day for the common folk, so let them have their amusement. It is only just.”

Aragorn agreed, adding that he had enjoyed many a bawdy mummers’ performance in his time, an admission that earned him a raised eyebrow from his wife and some chuckles from those around him.

The only thing that was put a stop to was the dancing bears. There was some protest both from the bears’ owner as well as some of those watching, but it was a royal edict from the king that the bears were not to be treated in such a manner. The owner was compensated for the cost of his bears, but was otherwise sent on his way. The bears were kept in an enclosure until Faramir could find some men willing and able to take on the job of releasing them up in the mountains.

Penny was loving every minute of it. She took advantage of the elves’ curiosity and ability to stay relatively aloof and strolled around the place with impunity. Similarly the Dunedain were far more at ease with such things than the nobles of Minas Tirith, so she was in excellent company to get the full experience. She tasted the beer, ate roast meat, admired the jugglers, and basically thoroughly enjoyed herself.

A little further away from the gates there were fenced off areas. Some were filled with livestock of various kinds – mainly goats, cows or geese – brought to market for sale. Other larger areas were where such things as pig-catching or contests of strength were taking place. As Penny and the others neared one, two men were struggling to pull carts loaded with beer kegs. It was here that the wrestling would be held a little later on.

“Ah, my lords, ladies, please do come and take some wine with His Majesty.”

Durion, ever flustered, was pointing towards a large gazebo-type affair with other tents nearby it and flags flying from the poles. Penny could make out the glint of gold and jewels as various nobles and elves took advantage of the shade. They thanked him and went to join their fellows as Durion went hurrying off to try and round up others and send servants hither and yon to do the same.

The field in front of the tents was a long one, and the one in which the archery competition was to be held. The elves had resisted attempts that they join in with the actual contest, thinking (rightly, no doubt) that no mortal would stand a chance against any of them. Instead a show of skill would be held with the best of the Gondorians and amongst the best of the elves.

The competition came first. It was clear from some of the muttering around Penny that the elves thought the targets were laughably close, and the tasks rather simple. A mere elfling could manage it, according to Rhimlath, though most others suggested a young adult elf with little experience was more accurate.

The Dunedain took part, or some of them did. Faelon was amongst them. Halladan sat watching his friend with a serious expression, occasionally smiling and sometimes shaking his head and muttering when he felt he could have made a better shot. Invariably at such times Faelon too would look annoyed with himself. He did well, but it was one of Faramir’s men who won and had even earned a few compliments from the elves, which was high praise indeed. Several of the young men, some barely adult, who had taken part and showed promise were taken aside by various ellyn who discussed technique with them. The youths listened with rapt attention to every tip passed on.

Then came the show of skill. Penny was upset to learn that a lot of this would involve releasing various birds from baskets, even if she was assured that no dead bird would be wasted and every one would be eaten. The Gondorians had shown themselves to be able and skilled archers, and that their bows were powerful, but it was as nothing to the elves, who of course had the advantage of height as well as longer (and thus more powerful) bows.

Rhimlath and Glorfindel were included in the display, not because they were amongst the best of the best (though Rhimlath was a very excellent archer in his own right), but because they had promised they would, and this seemed like an ideal opportunity. Legolas took part so that Eryn Lasgalen might be represented, and Celeborn also in many ways to make it clear to those watching that rank was not an issue – that a leader had to prove his worth in battle as much as anyone else.

As the preparations were made the crowd of commoners swelled quite considerably, with many children pushing their way through the sea of legs to get a good view, or else being hoisted onto the shoulders of fathers, older brothers or uncles.

There were murmurs from amongst the Gondorians – nobles and commoners alike - as the targets were pushed back quite some distance and yet the central bulls-eyes were hit with a deadly accuracy every time. It was clear from the furious glances Glorfindel was giving Rhimlath that Rhimlath deliberately splitting every arrow of Glorfindel’s in two with his own was annoying the Noldo considerably.

Then came the birds. Much to the Gondorians’ surprise, the birds were not hit immediately on release, but rather the elvish archers waited until they were at some distance and preferably flying high and fast. Of course this did mean that some escaped with their lives, since they headed off in the direction of the crowd, but those that could be shot down in safety were done so, to the admiration of the watchers.

The battle between Glorfindel and Rhimlath had reached fever pitch by this point. The archers were put in pairs for the release of each set of birds, and it was clear that Rhimlath was a faster shot since he managed to bring down just about every bird Glorfindel aimed for. Not one did Glorfindel shoot down alone, but rather if he managed a hit, the bird was hit twice: once by himself and near simultaneously by Rhimlath. To most onlookers this seemed to be a deliberate show of consummate skill, but to everyone who knew the pair they understood it had not been Glorfindel’s intention and he had been bested fair and square. He was, however, gracious in defeat, loudly admitting Rhimlath the better archer as he clasped him by the arm warmly and declared he would be proud to fight alongside him. Celeborn added that Rhimlath had done Lothlorien proud and Rhimlath could not have looked more pleased with himself if he had tried. Admittedly Celeborn had brought the house down by shooting his three birds while blindfolded, but Penny had thought that was just showing off. Arwen said as much as to him later and when her grandfather protested, Galadriel backed her up.

There was to be hare coursing next and Penny was in no mood to watch it. So she was grateful when Meresel grabbed her by the elbow and let her know her husband’s young cousin would be wrestling any minute.

“Oh, I will come with you,” Halladan said. “Arvain has insisted on joining in.”

On their way to the wrestling ground, Halladan stopped for a moment beside Faramir who was in conversation with Pippin and a tall man with a kind face who was about Halladan’s age.

“Pen-ii? May I introduce you to someone?” he murmured. “Ah, Beregond,” he said out loud. “It is good to see you.”

Penny smiled broadly if a little shyly as he was introduced, and Bergil also, standing proudly by his father. They were probably within the city limits by being here but on a day such as this no one was going to press the point, and Beregond was not within the city walls and that was the main point. It was clear to Penny he was held in great regard by many there, not least Faramir, who spoke in glowing terms of him to Penny till the poor man was near pink with embarrassment.

“Will you be watching the wrestling?” Penny asked. “We are on our way there now.”

There seemed to be a moment of slight surprise followed by Meresel quickly explaining her husband’s cousin was competing.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Faramir replied.

Penny, Halladan and Meresel walked away just as Bergil started pestering his father about going to watch the wrestling (‘oh please, please, please, please, because if they are going to see it then why not?’)

“It is not quite the accepted thing,” Meresel was explaining. “I am not sure Lord Faramir wholly approves…”

“Oh, I should not worry,” Halladan said breezily. “After all, I do not doubt he has wrestled in his time as a younger man.”

“I do remember…” Meresel was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I am sure I saw him wrestle once. But I was really very young – probably no older than young Bergil – so Lord Faramir was probably not much older than Corunír is now.”

“And only a few years younger than Arvain… Ah, and there he is!”

Arvain was standing inside the enclosure, a slightly excited look about him and a grin from ear to ear. Halladan called his name, but the din was too loud for Arvain to hear him. Inside the ring two men were grappling with each other, their faces grim and determined. Around the enclosure a huge crowd had formed. Bets were being taken on the outcome, children were up on people’s shoulders, and there was a somewhat rough and raucous atmosphere. It was clear at once this was not really a sport for the nobility, or at least the nobility did not usually take part in such contests in public like this. That said, Penny recognised one or two Gondorian lords in the crowd, cheering someone on – a young family member, a loyal servant or even a man under their command.

There were very few ladies of a noble class there at all. Indeed, Halladan made a point of escorting Meresel and Penny to stand with Meresel’s husband and his younger brother – both men of Halladan’s age or Faramir’s. A small bench was provided for Meresel and Penny to share, and while Halladan protested at being offered a stool, he did look rather grateful to be able to take the weight off his leg when he sat down at last.

Meresel’s husband’s cousin, Corunír, did well, but eventually lost his bout to a particularly well-built cooper from Lebennin. Afterwards, Corunír came over to the barrier near to where his cousins stood, a cut over one eye from a close encounter with one of the cooper’s elbows, but a huge grin on his face. Penny could see he was indeed young: no more than twenty and probably a year or two under that. He had a cheeky grin. Not quite like Arvain’s. No, this was more roguish. Looking at him Penny felt that this young man had a lot of growing up to do, despite what he had recently been through since she did not doubt for a second he had been to war. There was something about that grin, that ‘devil may care’ smirk that reminded her so much of her brother…

“Pen-ii?”

She almost jumped. She looked up to see Halladan looking at her slightly curiously. She realised her eyes were wet and blinked hurriedly, forcing a smile.

“Sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere.”

She wondered if he thought he had been staring at this young man and if so then for what reasons that might have been. She felt faintly embarrassed at the thought he may have completely misunderstood.

“Arvain’s bout is about to begin.”

Arvain did very well, winning his bout if not easily then fairly convincingly at the last. He and his opponent were fairly well matched, and not just in terms of stature and strength: his opponent was another young noble like himself. No roughing it for the likes of a Dunadan – their reputation and fame went before them and most were known by name by all.

If anyone wondered at Penny being completely unfazed at seeing men stripped to the waist they did not comment. She made no attempt to avert her gaze or seem slightly shy like Meresel or the few other younger ladies of Gondor in the vicinity, and in that respect Penny was no different to the ordinary women, of which there were many round about. Indeed just after Arvain’s bout was won there was a shout of Penny’s name and she turned to see a hand waving in the crowd as Mílves, a broad beam all over her face, pushed her way through the throng towards her.

“Lady Pen-ii, my dear! Well, how very nice to see you here and with some friends too! Well, now, Lord Halladan if your young brother did not do a stand up job just now and no mistake. I was saying to my husband only just this minute about how fine a wrestler he makes and I should know, having seen my husband and five sons take their turn many’s the time before now. And nursed their black eyes afterwards too and wrenched thumbs and I don’t know what else!” She laughed and Penny smiled with her even though she had had to guess at most of what she had said, but Mílves’s energy was just infectious like that. “Now, why don’t you come along with me and meet my boys. They’ve heard all about you, of course, you being the only woman with all them elvish lords and ladies. Quite the novelty, you are, my dear…”

And before she knew what was happening, Penny was being taken by the arm and pulled back through the crowd with Mílves. She glanced back to see Halladan grinning and shaking his head.

“I will come and rescue you if need be,” he called after her in Sindarin, laughter in his voice, and then was lost from sight.

Author’s Notes:

The blue cloth of the desert nomads is based on just such a cloth/dye used by the Tuareg of the Sahara. Similarly the ‘shops’ of nothing more than an open-fronted work room piled high with wares while the craftsman gets on with manufacturing is a common feature of many more old-fashioned markets in many parts of the world. Souks are probably the ones that come mostly quickly to mind, but elsewhere also.

As dull as it may sound, any archaeologist will tell you that bowls and in particular bowl pieces with the rim still attached are very diagnostic things on a dig. Subtle changes in the kind of clay used or patterns and shapes can tell historians a lot in terms of dating a strata and placing the site within a specific cultural context. … Yes, I do watch a lot of Time Team, why do you ask?

My apologies for the obscene mummers. *snerk* They were meant to be serious but me being me they quickly descended into rude comedy mummers. (Surprise, surprise – lol) I mean you can’t have a fete for the ordinary folk without a troupe of rude, comedy mummers, can you?

As ever – my sincere thanks to everyone reading this, and especially those who take time to review, comment and leave con crit.

Oh, and for the many that asked: ‘happy as Larry’ just means ‘extremely happy, pleased with oneself’. No, I have no idea who Larry is or was or quite what he was so happy about. *grin*

Thanks to all who are reading and those dropping comments and reviews - I do appreciate it, and am so glad this story is still entertaining for people.

Chapter 31 - “Of Course, You Realise This Means War”

The night after the fete Penny slept like a log. She was still on the slow road to recovery in some respects. It had been a long and exhausting day in the heat, and for one with low energy reserves that was a lot to deal with. She still felt slightly out of it the next day.

Milves was particularly cheery with her that morning and unsurprisingly so, given how well Penny had gone down with her family. Of course her ‘boys’, as Milves insisted on calling her sons, were far from being ‘boys’ since they were all easily as old as Halladan (or nearly) and all were married and had children of varying ages. Milves was mother hen to quite a tribe. Admittedly one had lost a hand, another had a very pronounced limp and yet another had terrible scarring to one side of his face, but they were a cheerful, happy band nonetheless. Her husband was a red-faced man with a ready laugh who clearly enjoyed his ale and his food. They had all made Penny feel very welcome, even with the communication difficulties. Indeed it had only been when Eleniel tapped her on the shoulder, saying it was time they headed off for a late supper up in the Seventh Circle and gesturing at Arvain, Halladan and Lindir standing nearby, that she finally left Milves’s company. As she did so, she did not realise she had just agreed she would come round for lunch or supper one day to Milves’s home.

“And you must come too, Lady Eleniel, though I do not doubt you would find it a simple meal in basic lodgings compared to what you must be used to…”

“Not at all, Milves, I would be most honoured.”

And Eleniel had meant it, though she could guess perhaps better than Penny what the reaction of certain ladies of Gondor would be when they found out about it.

Indeed, as the days progressed, Penny little knew what was going on with some of the ladies of Gondor, though she probably could have made an educated guess.

Several of the ladies of the court, mainly friends of Meresel, had made Penny feel welcome, and they were those who made a point of getting their brothers or sons (depending on their age) to ask her for dances of an evening. They were also happy to see her when she shyly arrived in the Queen’s chambers on occasion, as Arwen had requested of her, and fussed over her and praised her dreadful sewing and encouraged her.

A few of these reactions were genuine, like Meresel’s, but there were a larger number amongst this group who saw in Penny a means by which they could get the Queen’s favour, and after a few days Penny found them a little overbearing, particularly after the evening meal. She would try and find some respite with her friends, and at times even went outside to hunt down Halladan and sit quietly with him.

“Escaping the ladies of Gondor?” he would ask with a grin and then, without waiting for an answer, he would chuckle, shake his head, and shift over on the step or bench to make space for her beside him.

However, there were others who, like Sidhwen, saw Penny as something of a threat and a rival. Penny did not know it but her actions at the fete had been something of a gift to them, since Sidhwen had seen her ‘ogling’ the wrestlers (as she put it), as well as the company she had chosen to keep afterwards. The fact that Meresel had been there with her was conveniently overlooked, of course. It was enough that she had been present at such a low-brow event, obviously enjoying the entertainment and then spent a very long time socialising with Milves and her family as if they were her equals.

“I mean, she was staring, positively staring at half-naked labourers and tinkers! It was disgusting! She was so wanton about it too. Frankly, if you ask me, I think that speaks volumes about the sort of woman she really is…”

“Well, yes, because I heard that no one really knows terribly much about her…”

“Just found wandering, dazed and confused in the woods…”

“Probably some peasant lunatic or worse…”

Quite what the ‘worse’ could be was not stated openly, but it was heavily implied.

Penny had clearly shown herself to not be a ‘lady’ by their standards, and therefore was probably actually some provincial yokel who had landed on her feet by losing her memory and being taken in by the great and the good. Frankly, she did not deserve such luxury or kindness and should go back to where she came from or, if where that might be could not be established, then at the very least demoted to the class to which she truly belonged.

The more the whispering and bitching continued, the more outlandish the suggestions and assumptions became. Thus Penny slowly morphed into a woman of no moral character whatsoever, and thus was viewed as deeply suspect. That everyone had been taken in by her only proved her to be a devious trollop who was not to be trusted, but Sidhwen and others could see her for what she truly was.

“Ugh, how she fawns over Arvain,” Sidhwen would sneer when Penny was doing nothing of the kind and merely laughing loudly over some jibe Arvain had thrown.

Indeed, Sidhwen did herself little favour by trying to drive a wedge between Penny and Arvain. She told her friends it was to protect Arvain from Penny’s deception before “she could get her claws into him,” though in reality she was desperately worried the growing friendship between Arvain and Penny would turn into something more and she would be shoved out of the picture (not that she was ever in the picture to start with except in her own head, it has to be said).

Needless to say, Arvain was unamused, especially since Sidhwen was becoming more and more blatant about trying to pull him in the opposite direction if they neared Penny, or squeezing herself between the two of them as she simpered and pleaded for a dance. When she went so far as to whisper comments about Penny herself to him, though, such as being ‘surprised people were not a little more wary of someone about whose history nothing was known since, well, she could be absolutely anyone from anywhere,’ he had had enough.

That he became rather cold towards Sidhwen from that point on only served as fuel to the fire. Penny instantly became Primary Target Number One as far as Sidhwen was concerned, and she now went out of her way to foment the growing cattiness about Penny in some quarters.

For his part, Arvain had a quiet word with his brother, and they both decided the best plan was to lie low but keep an eye on Sidhwen in case she caused trouble. They also worked as best they could to keep the two women apart. That said, neither of them doubted for a moment that, given what they had heard their father say of Penny’s performance in Bree, let alone the insights into her character they had since had from others and seen for themselves, if push came to shove Penny was perfectly capable of giving Sidhwen something she would never forget.

However, the court would be likely to never forget it, either, or forgive it any time soon if it got particularly spectacular, so it was best avoided if at all possible.

In the meantime, while all of this was being played out behind her back, Penny was finding the days were passing by swiftly. She had not a spare hour, it seemed, with so much to do and so many people glad of her company.

The library was wonderful, and Istdor became a like a kindly old uncle to her in some ways. His tour of the city when it finally came was breathtaking in its depth and breadth. Even Lindir had to admit it had been quite something, though he had been seen suppressing a yawn at one point as Rhimlath and Istdor got into a prolonged discussion on various kinds of mortar. Penny showed herself to be particularly gifted in diverting the pair away from tedious discussions by asking pertinent questions that would get Istdor completely overexcited and bustling on to the next building or spot, even if Rhimlath was in full flow. Lindir congratulated her on it later.

“I shall have to rely on your services more often, young lady, when I am stuck with the pair of them.” He smiled slightly too sweetly.

“Indeed? I shall have to give you a very wide berth if ever I see you in their company, in that case,” she retorted.

The day after the market she took Legolas up on his offer. She was at a loose end after lunch and they had been sitting near to each other at the meal. Afterwards, as they walked together with the others out to the courtyard, she touched his elbow and stayed him.

“L-Legolas, would you… I mean, if it is not… You are probably busy…”

He smiled gently, and understood immediately.

“I am not in the least bit busy, Lady Pen-ii. Let us go somewhere quiet and private where we can talk freely.”

They walked slowly towards the royal chambers, Legolas chatting almost nonchalantly all the while. If anyone stopped them to talk, Legolas responded politely, all smiles, but made it clear that he was terribly sorry he really had to be somewhere else and would they mind terribly…

Eventually Penny found he had taken her to a small inner courtyard somewhere behind the Throne Room. There were tubs with a few fragrant plants in them and a circular bench in the centre. They stayed in the shade of the cloister, finding a small stone seat carved into one wall.

And there, quietly and gently, Legolas talked.

For how long Penny was not sure, but she sat entranced as he spoke, never seeming to tire, of what he had been a witness to. He made her smile, even laugh at times at some of the little things he remembered of quips or jokes between the Nine Walkers as they had travelled. He also made her desperately upset, even weep quietly once or twice, and at such moments he would stop and wait, smiling sadly down at her, or even staring out at the courtyard as if briefly lost in the memories himself.

His description of Fangorn made her regret having been such a fool while she had been there. She told him of her near phobic fear of the Ent, and Legolas smiled indulgently - clearly she was proving herself to be very mortal and very young with such an admission.

His description of the battle of Helm’s Deep was something else, though, let alone those when they won the ships at Pelargir or on the Pelennor itself. He gave no details, as such, but spoke men’s names with reverence and named them ‘warrior’ or ‘hero’ or ‘honourable man’, and she knew from the way he spoke he had seen them fall and go down fighting. She wanted desperately to ask him about Halbarad, but she did not know if he had seen him die and she was not wholly sure she would want to know the truth of how it had happened.

“They are buried there,” he was saying, gesturing vaguely to the south. “South of the city so they might greet the sun and be warmed by it through much of the day. Many lie there.”

“And those who fell at the Black Gate?”

He looked at her, his face so young and the eyes so old, so sad.

“There were too many for us to bring them back here, Pen-ii. They were buried there, where they fell.”

Of course. She felt so stupid. Yet she also wondered how those who had lost men there felt to know they were buried in the sight of Mordor itself. She thought of Hirvell and then many others she now had heard tell of who had fallen there. But then, she reasoned, they were not the first to have been left behind on that battlefield; Legolas’s own grandfather was one, for a start.

“I would have liked to have met Hirvell,” was all she said.

Legolas nodded. “He was a noble man. Like his brothers and his father before him.”

“Legolas? I do not know how things are done amongst the edain, what their customs are, but would it be considered inappropriate for me to ask to visit the place where the Dunedain are buried?”

Legolas looked at her, and his gaze was full of understanding and tenderness.

“I do not think so, no. I think those who knew Halbarad and loved him well would be most moved to know you wished to pay your final respects to him and honour him in your own fashion.”

Penny nodded and thanked him. How to broach the subject, and with whom, would be something she would have to think about at another time.

Unsurprisingly all that Legolas had to say could not all be told in one sitting; and more than once therefore, Legolas took her back to that spot, sometimes sitting, sometimes strolling round the cloisters at a slow, measured pace. It was quite cathartic in many ways, and Penny was very grateful to him. She still found life difficult, though. Every wound she saw, every death she heard of, every ruin she passed by in the lower circles reminded her of her decision and the part she had had to play, albeit from a great distance, in the outcome of it all. She kept reminding herself over and over that greater decisions with more weight and heavier outcomes had been made by minds far wiser than hers, but while she knew that to be true it was still taking time to overcome her instinctive distress.

Not only that, but ever since Legolas had told her the burial sites were to the South, Mireth and Eleniel sometimes found her staring out of the window of their room as if trying to see if she could make out mounds in the distance.

On occasion she spent an hour or two with Gandalf also, who was happy to talk of things from his point of view. At times Aragorn was with him, though it was rare when he could spare more than a half hour since the business of state was ever pressing on his time. Gandalf did not push Penny in regard to those questions she was desperate to know the answers to. There would be time enough yet, and she was still adjusting to being in Gondor and seeing the Fellowship once more. His presence helped considerably, and she always felt that much calmer after she had spoken with him even if only for a short while.

Lunch with Milves was quite something. Eleniel came, as she had promised, as did Mireth at Milves’s insistence. They in their turn had said they would bring some of the fruit they had bought at the market, even though Milves protested it was not necessary, but for once she was overruled.

Her lodgings were in the third circle, in a large rambling house set back off a side street. They kept chickens and a goat for milking in a yard out the back, and the grandchildren were running riot, but it was a fine spread Milves had laid on for them, no doubt with the help of her daughters-in-law. There was fresh baked bread and home made cheese, and someone had slaughtered a sheep in their honour which had been spitted and roasted. It was served with soup and potatoes. Somehow Penny suspected the family did not always eat quite this sumptuously.

Milves’s eldest arrived with a barrel of ale, for which he was scolded by his mother. That was quite something – seeing a man a year or two older than Halladan being spoken to as if he were no more than six years of age. Apparently he should have brought wine for such refined guests and had in fact been expressly told to do exactly that, but the brewer was a friend of his and had struck him a special deal, and besides “there is nothing wrong with Minas Tirith ale, Mother, so let me have some peace!”

Mireth hastily accept ed a cup of ale and declared it to be easily as good as any elvish wine she had tasted. They knew she was lying but Milves beamed nonetheless and her eldest smiled gratefully, breathed a sigh of relief and left them to it.

Lunch was a female affair, though Milves’ husband did turn up briefly to get a hunk of bread and some cheese before heading back out down to the First Circle where he was helping rebuild a friend’s house. He also sneaked a tankard of the ale when Milves’s back was turned, putting a finger to his lips as he tried to creep away with it on tiptoe.

“Grandpa’s taken some of the guests’ drink!” a tiny voice piped up.

Milves turned with a gasp and a face like thunder just in time to see her husband’s heels as he sped out of the door. She grabbed a broom and raced after him, but he was gone.

“I will get you for that, you old goat!” she shouted after him, waving her broomstick out the door and down the street. She was chuckling and grinning as she came back in, though.

Of course the whole episode was added to the list of things that showed Penny’s ‘true nature’ as far as certain persons in the court were concerned: namely, hobnobbing with the staff. The elves did it, yes, but then the elves were a law unto themselves and, like royalty, allowed to do pretty much what they liked. Penny, for all she was in elvish company, was human and subject to the social mores the ladies felt were necessary for one who was likely as not about to become another of their number.

Exactly when Sidhwen got hold of her golden piece of information, however, was not entirely clear. Whether someone told her directly or she overheard a gossipy conversation one night she did not say, indeed it is likely she heard it from more than one source. Elves have loose tongues at the best of times and there was surely no harm in admitting what had been an amusing episode albeit a rather sad one in retrospect.

The trouble was that, inevitably, this piece of information then underwent ‘The Sidhwen Effect’ in that it became grossly distorted and twisted out of all proportion, and quite deliberately so given it concerned Penny. Hence by the time Chinese Whispers had also been to work on it, it was something quite different from whatever it was that Sidhwen may have overheard or been told.

“Oh, I heard she was really quite brazen about it.”

“I can believe that, after all Sidhwen has been completely shut out of Lord Arvain’s affections, thanks to that woman…”

“Well, exactly. Poor Lord Boromir did not know where to put himself, so I am told.”

“… practically throwing herself at him…”

“… no better than a ‘lady of the night’…”

“… Lord Boromir tried to be as polite as he could…”

“… Lord Elrond was hugely embarrassed…”

“Well, someone told me there was an ‘incident’ in the gardens which left her in hysterics and Boromir looking appalled and shocked. I do not think I need to elaborate further…”

“No, of course you do not! Ugh, how shameful!”

Within a day at the most, it was round the entire court that Penny had, in effect, jumped on Boromir in a wanton display of lust and Boromir had practically had to beat her off with a stick. Elrond had done his best to smooth things over, had read Penny the riot act, and Boromir had been most gracious and forgiving, though he had done his best to completely avoid Penny after that. Quite what Elrond had been thinking in bringing Penny with him to Gondor, let alone putting forward the idea that she might like to stay, some people really had no idea. Perhaps Boromir was not the only one Penny had thrown herself at and Elrond was trying to get rid of her, but then if that was the case it was hardly any surprise, given that she had obviously been in her element amongst the Great Unwashed at the fete and no doubt had no more manners than the crudest of the crude.

Which is not to say the majority believed it for a moment. Indeed as soon as it came to the ears of any elf, Dunadan or hobbit they quickly slapped it down saying it was utter rubbish, though several did confirm that they had heard she had been a little sweet on Boromir, but it had been no more than that.

Arwen was furious. She and Eleniel went out of their way to make it clear in no uncertain terms to the ladies of the court that it was untrue, but for all their efforts it was clear there was bile building in some quarters and at some point it would have to be tackled head-on.

“I hear you had a soft spot for my brother,” a quiet voice said into Penny’s ear that night.

Penny wheeled in shock. “I... er… what?”

“Oh, please do not be embarrassed. Lord Elrond told me and I am glad that he impressed you so. He was a good and noble man, fair of face and loved by his people.”

“Y-yes.” Penny had no idea what to say, how to explain… even if she should try and explain given Elrond clearly had not. Why on earth at Elrond told him this?

Faramir smiled sadly and took her hand. He gave it a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. He was about to let go and move away when Penny spoke.

“Lord Faramir? May I ask you? Did… Did Lord Boromir have a sweetheart here in the city? Only he told me that…”

Faramir smiled once more. “If he did, I knew nothing of it.” He looked at her, no doubt considering why his brother may have said such a thing. “It may be it was some secret love, or it may be…”

“Yes, I know.” She cursed herself for the crack she could hear in her own voice. “He was being kind.”

“If so it was very like him.”

She nodded, dumbly, as Faramir gave her hand a second squeeze before walking away slowly.

Penny did not join the company again that night. She stayed in the courtyard, sitting in silence next to Halladan for a little while, grateful that he did not press her on why she seemed so upset or untalkative. He too had heard the rumours and he, with Arvain, could guess the source of them. Their father had told them what Penny had managed to convey to him about Boromir – news that had been confirmed the moment they had met up with Aragorn in Rohan. It was obvious to them why she had acted as she had, and yet how it had been mistakenly perceived by others. Even so, for it to have been twisted into something as base as this… He could happily throttle that squawking harpy Sidhwen.

At last Penny murmured something about heading off to bed and rose from the bench they shared.

“Pen-ii?”

She turned back to him.

“Pay them no heed.”

Pay who no heed, she wondered. Penny had been mulling over why Elrond would have said anything to Faramir at all, and she was completely baffled by it, especially given the fact that Elrond knew the real reason behind her behaviour. Did Halladan know something?

He could see she seemed confused. He waved his hand.

“No matter. It is of no consequence. Sleep well. I would offer to walk you to your door, but I know you would just say I need not trouble myself.”

“On the contrary, I would be glad of your company.”

He nodded, smiled and, grabbing his stick, pulled himself upright. “Very good. In that case… Shall we?” He gestured ahead of them, and they walked side by side across the courtyard.

“Faramir said something very strange to me earlier.”

“Did he?”

“He knows that some say I was enamoured of Boromir. Lord Elrond told him. I do not understand why he would do so.”

Halladan stopped, leant on his stick and sighed. He was a firm believer in being up front and honest.

“Then it is best you know that there is some talk about it among certain sections of the court. I suspect Faramir heard it, and asked Elrond about the truth of it. Elrond explained as best he could given he was no doubt surrounded by people who may not know your full story.”

“Oh.” She blinked, torn between being upset and downright livid.

“As I said, Pen-ii, pay them no heed. There are more than enough here who know you well and know, if not the facts, then the truth of what was seen to have happened rather than the version being whispered. Those with too much time on their hands and not enough brains in their heads to listen to such nonsense are not worth your time or energy.”

“Yes, but if I am to stay here…”

It was the first time she had mentioned it to him. He showed no reaction.

“Ah, I had heard that was being considered. So, you have made your decision?”

“No.”

He merely nodded for a moment.

“Even so, such people will find they get short shrift with their King and Queen, let alone nobles such as Lord Faramir and others like him. Pay them no mind, Pen-ii.”

So saying he led her to her door and bade her goodnight.

It was easier said than done, and when Eleniel and Mireth came to bed a little later there was some discussion into the night about it all. They too advised Penny to ignore it as best she could, that the matter was being dealt with and the rumour scotched.

That was not the end of it, though. Not by a long chalk. For some time Sidhwen had become more brazen in her put-downs of Penny within her hearing, and Penny for her turn, emboldened by what she now knew some of the other ladies thought of Sidhwen, responded in kind. It was clear things were coming to head.

Then, late one afternoon Penny rounded a corner into an alley as she left the Queen’s chambers just in time to see Sidhwen, nose in the air and striding about as if she owned the place, walk straight into a maidservant from the kitchens carrying a heavily laden tray. No doubt the tray was meant for the Hall of Feasts since it had baskets of bread and several large flagons of wine. The flagons smashed to pieces on the stone flags and the wine spilled down the entire front of Sidhwen’s dress, staining the pale green a livid, dark burgundy.

“YOU STUPID, IDIOTIC IMBECILE!” Sidhwen screamed.

The poor maidservant, not much younger than Sidhwen herself, was nearly in tears. No doubt as frightened as she was of the sharp end of Sidhwen’s tongue, she was even more scared of what she thought Durion would say to hear she had smashed four flagons, spilled all that wine and got however many bread rolls utterly ruined in the process (given they were doing a very good job of soaking up what wine had not spilled down Sidhwen),.

Sidhwen was giving the maid what-for, even though it had been Sidhwen who had not been looking where she was going, and indeed seemed so enraged that Penny was genuinely concerned that she was about to hit the girl.

She stepped forward.

“It was an accident, Lady Sidhwen.”

Sidhwen pretended she either had not heard or could not understand her (Penny had spoken in Sindarin) and completely blanked her.

“You will pay for this,” she said in Westron to the maidservant. “You understand me? I shall speak to Master Durion and make sure a new dress is paid for from your wages, girl. This one is ruined thanks to your stupidity and clumsiness!”

Erestor’s lessons, as well as hearing quite a bit of Westron day in day out, were clearly paying off because even if she did not get every word, Penny understood enough.

“What is your name?” she asked the maid, ignoring Sidhwen the way Sidhwen had just ignored her.

The maid stared back at her blankly, tray still in hand, clearly bewildered and very upset.

“Your name?” she tried again in Westron this time.

“Her name is none of your concern, Lady Pen-ii,” Sidhwen snapped. “Do not tell her your name,” she said to the maid. “She will only report you to the King and get you in serious trouble.”

The maid’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped in horror.

“What did you just say to her?” Penny was getting angry now. “What did you tell her I would say to the King?”

“This is not your business,” Sidhwen replied, deliberately sticking to Westron even though Penny had spoken to her in Sindarin. “This oaf has ruined my dress and…”

“What in Arda is going on here!” Durion sounded furious. The maid blanched.

Sidhwen quickly explained she had been minding her own business when the clearly incompetent maidservant had practically thrown the tray at her and it was a good job she did not get a flagon in her eye. Her dress, as Master Durion could see, was utterly ruined and she demanded the cost of a new one be taken out of the girl’s pay.

Penny noticed Master Durion hesitate at that, which suggested that the cost of a dress for a lady of the court would take a rather large chunk out of a maidservant’s pay.

“And you,” Durion turned to the girl. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I-I-I am sorry, Master Durion. I really do not know how it happened…”

The maidservant was wary of accusing one of her ‘betters’ at being at fault, particularly one as spiteful and vindictive as Lady Sidhwen was known to be.

Durion snorted. “Well, I am afraid if you cannot find a better response than that, then we will have to find a way of buying a new dress for Lady Sidhwen, will we not?”

The maid hung her head and looked ready to burst into tears once more.

Penny was just about managing to follow the gist from the odd word and guessing the rest.

“If I might be so bold, Master Durion?”

Sidhwen glared at her.

“If I understand correctly, this girl must pay for a new dress for Lady Sidhwen? In which case, I wonder,” she gestured at the large splotches and splashes all over the maidservant’s skirt, “will Lady Sidhwen pay for a new dress for the maidservant?” There was a gasp of outrage from Sidhwen and Durion looked vaguely panicky. “After all, her skirts have been stained also, and ruined, and given the accident was actually Lady Sidhwen’s fault…”

“JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE…!”

Durion quickly stepped in before Sidhwen could explode into a full tirade, suggesting that the matter was already settled, and perhaps the ladies should continue on to the courtyard while he got some servants to clear up the mess. He took the maidservant by the shoulder (gently, it has to be said) and hurried her away.

There was a brief moment where Penny and Sidhwen were left alone. Sidhwen, breathing hard and clearly fighting to keep her opinions to herself, and Penny looking back at her with a ‘just try it’ look all over her face.

At last Sidhwen opened her mouth to say something. Penny cut her off even as she drew breath.

“Do you not want to change your dress before supper?”

Servants had appeared, hurrying up the lane towards them armed with brooms, cloths and baskets. Sidhwen glanced at her dress, at the servants, gave one last furious glare at Penny and the flounced off in the direction she had come.

“Bitch,” Penny muttered under her breath.

She was not sure who to talk to about the incident, but she was determined the maidservant should not be punished for something that was not her fault. It was probably a gross breach of etiquette or courtly code or something to ‘snitch’ on a fellow member of the court, but given this was Sidhwen, she really did not care. Actually, she realised, no matter who it had been she would feel the same: fair was fair.

She opted for Lord Faramir in the end.

“…I do not know her name. I did ask her but she seemed too frightened to tell me, but Master Durion will know who it is. I just wanted it known that she was not in the least bit at fault, and it seemed so very unfair that she lose money she probably sorely needs…”

Faramir promised he would look into it, though in fact Durion had already told him all about it and about Penny’s rather extraordinary defence of the maid and even more extraordinary suggestion that Sidhwen buy the maid a dress.

Faramir in his turn spoke to the man whose judgement he trusted implicitly: Aragorn. Faramir was not disappointed. The royal purse paid for a new dress to be made for both Lady Sidhwen and the maidservant and neither was any the wiser. Thus peace was restored and honour was satisfied.

Or at least between all except Sidhwen and Penny, that is. Even Eleniel told Penny later she had probably been unwise to step in like that.

“Far better you had let the matter lie and then quietly spoken to Lord Faramir afterwards without confronting Sidhwen head on.”

“I genuinely feared she might strike the poor girl. She was in a fearsome temper!”

“Oh, Sidhwen is all bluster and hot air,” Meresel laughed. “You need not have feared, I am sure.”

But, Penny thought, Meresel had not seen the look on Sidhwen’s face, and Penny would not have been at all surprised if Sidhwen treated her own family’s servants very badly indeed.

Thus the stage was set. A bitch and a hot-head were readying to face each other if the slightest thing should set them off, though perhaps the eventual trigger was not so ‘slight’ a one by some standards.

It was nearly a week since the market, and Penny was looking forward to choosing something to buy at the next one. It was coming up to lunchtime, and she and Erestor had just walked from the library together. The courtyard was slowly filling with people as they waited to enter the Hall of Feasts for the midday meal. Penny was with her usual crowd, though Arvain was not with them. Faelon was embarrassing Halladan by telling stories of when Halladan was a small boy and learning to ride a horse.

“You should have seen his face!” He was chuckling as he spoke. “Ai, Halbarad was no use at all because he was laughing so hard, and poor Halladan was being carried off into the distance shouting ‘Stop, you stupid horse, stooooop!’”

“That horse was a menace,” Halladan said with some feeling.

“Your father liked him.”

“Father was the only one he listened to!”

Just then someone came running up to the courtyard from the gate. They made no pause but kept running, dodging in and out of the small groups of people, scanning all the while as if looking for someone urgently.

Then, just as quickly, two or three others appeared behind him, also running, also looking urgent and serious.

What had happened?

“Arvain?”

Faelon had recognised one of the last to arrive and had called out to the young Dunadan. Arvain made his way over to them.

Meanwhile the first man, a Gondorian, was pelting up the stairs to the Hall of Feasts having been pointed in that direction by someone as he passed them. Within minutes he had reappeared, Lord Faramir now with him and the two headed, at speed towards the gate down to the Sixth Circle.

“Lindir?” Faramir called over as he passed by them. “Where is Lord Elrond? We may have need of his skill…”

“I will fetch him,” Lindir said immediately, not even waiting to find out what the matter was.

“Send him to the Houses of Healing,” Faramir shouted, already moving away fast.

Lindir nodded and quickly went off towards Elrond’s chambers.

“What has happened, Arvain?” Halladan’s tone was dark.

“You remember Hiluin? Tall man, thin… lost both sons and his brother…”

Halladan and Faelon immediately knew who Arvain was referring to.

“He… he tried to kill his family less than an hour ago.”

There were gasps of shock and horror.

“His wife is seriously injured,” Arvain said quietly. “He would have killed his grandson outright had she not stood in his path to protect him… Then he turned on her.”

“Surely not?” Faelon could scarcely believe it. “He has a lovely wife. I have met her more than once. As kind as you could wish for. And two small grandchildren…”

The news was spreading. A terrible, awful silence had replaced the chatter and laughter of only minutes before and only low murmured whispers were heard now and then.

Hiluin had been hit hard by his losses during the War. His eldest son had been married but he had lost his wife in childbirth as she delivered their second child. The son and grandchildren had then come to live with Hiluin and his wife, who loved the little ones as if they were their own. Then came the War, and Hiluin had lost his brother and youngest son on the Pelennor, only to cradle his eldest son as he died in his arms in front of the Black Gate. He was never the same man again. Friends and neighbours spoke of his black moods and wild rages, of heavy drinking and how his wife seemed pale and far quieter than she used to be.

Then this morning, seemingly for no reason, he had snapped. Some said he had been drunk, others that he had been driven mad by grief, but whatever the reason, his wife lay perhaps mortally wounded in the Houses of Healing, and he was under lock and key, now unnaturally still and silent by all accounts. The two small children were being cared for by neighbours.

Everyone felt like they were in shock, as if stunned, even those who had never known this man. Penny felt very upset, not just because of the brutal nature of what had happened, but because she did not doubt for one second that this man had been mentally unbalanced by the War, perhaps had even been in some sort of post-traumatic delirium. It happened, did it not? Admittedly it was not that common, but it was a documented thing: war veterans who had seen horrible, terrible things lashing out in a daze or a flashback without even realising what they were doing. That poor, poor man! His poor family! Penny glanced up to see that everyone was as upset and shaken by this as she was - those who knew him and his family especially. Halladan in particular seemed to find it difficult. He had paled as Arvain had spoken and now had stepped away from the rest, turning his back on them, his grip tight on the handle of his stick.

It was then that it happened.

A voice Penny recognised all too well as a small group wandered walked slowly by.

“Well, he was always a very peculiar man. I suspect he was already mad to begin with…”

“Sidhwen!” It was Meresel who spoke. “Do not say such things!” Her voice was shaking a little, and it was clear she was fighting back tears.

Penny glanced at Eleniel who whispered a translation of what Sidhwen had said. She felt her hackles rise.

“Oh, Meresel, please! Your husband fought, my father fought, countless other men here fought, Lords Faelon, Halladan and Arvain here, and none of them have tried to murder women and children. As much as it pains me to say it, the man must have been weak in the head in some way. He was affected by battle and that can only mean …”

“SHUT UP!”

The ferocity with which Penny roared it was more than enough to make sure there was a dead silence within a good twenty yard radius.

“You know what you are, Sidhwen?” She was too angry to bother with ridiculous niceties such as ‘Lady’ right now. “You are a stupid, malicious, good-for-nothing…” She struggled for a millisecond to find a suitable word in Sindarin and so plumped for English. “..bitch!”

Erestor’s eyebrows shot upwards. “A female dog?” he murmured.

“How DARE you speak of such things, you stupid woman! You have no idea, NO IDEA what it was like to be out there,” Penny gestured vaguely in the direction of the Pelennor, “fighting for your life, surrounded by death and horror and blood…”

Had she but noticed it, she would have seen Halladan’s grip on his stick get so tight his knuckles showed white.

“…Do you honestly think that any man comes out of battle unchanged, you idiot!”

“Who are you calling stupid?” Sidhwen raged in response. “Of course I realise what was involved, but the fact that this man failed, was so cowardly as to let himself…”

There had been a gasp at the use of the word ‘cowardly’ and enough angrily muttered repetition of it in Sindarin for Penny to immediately know what Sidhwen had just said.

“You make me sick! How dare you use such a word when you have never fought in your life? Thanks to that man, to every man who fought, you have a city to live in! More than that, you have a life, freedom, you are not condemned to utter darkness and despair! How dare you speak of such bravery with such disrespect…!”

It was a very surreal shouting match – one ranting in Sindarin, the other in Westron, but both just about catching enough of what the other one was saying to form some kind of response.

“Oh, I see it is normal for a man to come home from War and try and kill his family, is it? You have no idea what you are talking about, Pen-ii! You have no clue about our lives or this society or what it is to be a soldier!”

“I know enough to understand war can deeply affect anyone who lives through it, leave them utterly changed, riven with guilt and torment and nightmares and worse! You speak so lightly of such things, and yet I do not doubt for a moment had you been out there in the middle of it all, you would not have lasted five minutes!”

“Oh, and you would have done better!”

“NO, OF COURSE NOT! THAT IS MY POINT! I am not so stupid as to think I could cope with such things, or to think so ill of anyone who has lived through it, no matter how marred he may be physically or mentally! Are you so cavalier about those who are injured? Do you mock those who have lost a limb or an eye…?”

“MY FATHER LOST HIS FOOT, I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW!”

“THEN ALL THE MORE REASON FOR YOU TO KNOW BETTER! HE WOULD BE ASHAMED IF HE COULD HEAR YOU NOW!”

There was a mixture between a gasp and a roar from Sidhwen at that. People were staring, several friends of Sidhwen or Penny respectively were trying to say their names, get them both to calm down, but to no avail.

“How DARE you presume to tell me how my father thinks of me! You, some jumped-up peasant from the North, or possibly not even that! Who knows where you come from, but you are not fit for court, that much is clear. You are a slattern and a woman who I am ashamed to even have met. The court is disgraced by the presence of one such as you in it. We all know what you did with Boromir, or tried to do. It’s disgusting!”

The look on Penny’s face was a picture of fury.

“I feel sorry for any male that comes near you, and no doubt that is why you are being dumped here on us – these poor elves are sick of you fawning over them! No doubt Lord Halbarad bitterly regretted having to be alone with you all that time when he first rescued you. I dread to think what you tried to do..!”

Several things happened at once at that point.

There was an explosion of outrage all round them, which was itself enough to bring Sidhwen to a grinding halt. It was also enough to tell Penny in a heartbeat that, yes, Sidhwen had just implied what she thought she had implied.

She did not realise she had raised her hand, however, until she felt the firm grasp of someone else’s hand on her wrist staying her movement.

Halladan, his back to Sidhwen, looked Penny straight in the face.

“No, Pen-ii,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with absolute authority.

There was a moment when Penny struggled to rein in her fury, her raging anger at this stupid condescending cow in front of her, but most of all her distress that such good and noble men were being if not maligned then dragged into Sidhwen’s tirade of abuse.

Halladan kept his gaze fixed on Penny all the while, never letting go of her wrist, as if silently willing her to calm down. Penny was herself too wound up to notice, but he was breathing hard through his nose and his eyes were ablaze.

That constant pressure of his hold on her arm helped her, though: it was a focus, a means by which she got the strength to will herself to stay quiet. It was firm enough to stop her, but not so hard as to hurt her. It told her he was preventing her from going too far, but he was also on her side. She took deep breaths and gradually was able to look back at Sidhwen with a confident, defiant air.

Sidhwen, however, did not know when to shut up.

“Ah, I see. You would hit me, would you? And there we see her true colours showing themselves at last…”

Halladan, still not letting go of Penny’s wrist, turned his head.

“Go away.” His voice was cold and harsh with undisguised rage and his glare furious. “Now.”

Sidhwen swallowed, blinked, swallowed some more, and tried to look unconcerned as if for a moment she would defy him.

“I said…” Halladan growled slowly.

And she was gone, walking as fast as was decent, with her gaggle of friends round her clucking and bleating and worrying if she was alright and exhorting her not to burst into tears, but to ‘stay strong, Sidhwen dear, stay strong’.

For a moment there was complete silence, and when Penny finally spoke her voice sounded rather small.

“You… can let go of my wrist now, Halladan.”

Chapter 32 - “Repercussions”

Halladan slowly let go of her wrist and, just as slowly, Penny lowered her arm. Her gaze was focused somewhere on a pure white flagstone in front of her. She could feel tears pricking her eyes, but whether out of anger, frustration, over Hiluin and his poor wife, or simply because she had just made a complete spectacle of herself, she was not entirely sure.

Probably a combination of all four, if she were honest.

The last few minutes seemed surreal, like a dream, as if they had never happened. Yet the angry murmurs around her and the furious Dunadan standing next to her let Penny know it had been all too real.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly to no one in particular, though perhaps mostly to Halladan standing right beside her still. “I am sorry. I should not have… Stupid and childish of me to react to her that way. What must you think of me?”

“Do not apologise. Never apologise for speaking the truth or defending it.”

She glanced at Halladan, and though it was clear he was still furious when he looked at her, there was almost the hint of a smile… or did she imagine it?

“Indeed, you were sorely provoked,” Erestor said. “I would be the first to point out that it might have been more politic had you kept your tongue, perhaps…”

“Oh, come now, Erestor!” Arvain was making no attempt to hide his anger. “You heard what that idiotic girl said! It was outrageous!”

“I was about to say exactly that,” Erestor responded calmly. “What Lady Sidhwen said just now was beyond the bounds of decency. She had no right and I commend your words, Pen-ii,” he continued, “But I cannot pretend that the manner in which you expressed yourself was the most appropriate one you could have chosen, that is all.”

Around them people were slowly moving into the Hall for lunch, though few had much of an appetite after the news of Hiluin. Those nearest to them stared as surreptitiously as they dared at Penny as they passed by. While many would come to agree that Sidhwen had long had it coming and that Penny had been sorely tried by Sidhwen’s carping, Penny had not behaved in a manner befitting a lady of the royal court – on that there was no disagreement whatsoever.

For now, though, Penny felt some comfort from her friends’ words. Looking round at the others, she could see how angry many were from their tight jaws and glaring eyes, but it was not directed at her. Arvain caught her glance and gave her a smile.

“You told her what many have long thought, Pen-ii.”

“Do not encourage her, Arvain.” Erestor’s tone was lighter than might have been expected as he said this.

“Anyone who has had to face battle would have been proud to hear you speak as you just did.” Faelon seemed to speak for many there, as there were murmurs of agreement, from Halladan in particular. “It needed to be said. If you had not, then I would have done so myself. Though perhaps,” he added with an amused expression, “not quite so forcefully or publicly.”

Meresel seemed at something of a loss. She was clearly shocked by Penny’s outburst but also agreed Sidhwen had gone beyond mere bitchiness.

“Shall we go in for lunch?” she suggested tentatively.

Penny shook her head. “I am not hungry. You go. I shall…” She trailed off, not at all sure of what to do with herself.

Eleniel stepped up to her, shaking her head with a soft smile.

“Ah, Pen-ii, Pen-ii! Did I not tell you to not let her rile you?”

“Even Meresel felt her comments were unacceptable, Eleniel.”

Meresel looked even more uncomfortable at the idea her initial comments may have been a trigger for Penny’s outburst.

“True.” Eleniel looked after the still retreating figure of Sidhwen now some way in the distance. “She is so very young and spoiled.”

“I think the general consensus is that her father over-indulged her to make up for losing her mother so young,” Meresel said. “It has not served her well.”

“No indeed,” Mireth said, with some feeling. “She has a sharp tongue and an ability to see the worst in a situation. I pity the man she marries.”

“Oh, but I thought that was to be Arvain, was it not?” Celebdor said quickly, with a grin.

“What?!” Arvain looked appalled and everyone, even Penny, burst out laughing, some of the tension and mood broken at last.

The others went into lunch, but Penny had not been lying when she said she had no appetite. She dreaded to think how her outburst would be viewed by the court once word spread, let alone how Aragorn would react. One by one her friends hugged or kissed her, telling her not to be concerned, that she had spoken rightly if in the wrong manner, and that was a very good point in her favour since Sidhwen had been entirely in the wrong. Faelon came and gave her shoulder a squeeze, telling her not to worry and he would speak to the King in her defence if needs be, but the very fact that he felt he needed to say that only made Penny worry all the more. Meresel said nothing, but held her hand for a moment and smiled a little awkwardly, still not quite sure how to react to it all. Arvain went to the Hall, offering to bring some food out to her, but she thanked him and said there was no need.

Halladan hesitated, though. He turned back to her as the others slowly made their way into lunch.

“Erestor is right, you know. It was not the wisest of actions.”

“I know.” Yet again ‘open mouth, insert foot Penny’ had reared its ugly head, she thought to herself. She sighed. “Lady Sidhwen will be worse than ever now.”

“Lady,” (Halladan’s tone as he said the word made it very clear he considered her to be anything but), “Sidhwen’s opinion is worth less than nothing. She proved that just now, not that any proof was needed.” He spoke with a ferocity that surprised her.

There was a pause and then he gestured towards the steps to the Hall.

“Are you sure you do not wish to join us, even if you do not eat..?”

She shook her head.

“Well, if you will not come in, then I shall keep you company.”

“No, but you must eat…”

He waved his hand.

“In truth I have no appetite either. Not after hearing about …” His face grew grim for a few moments. Then he roused himself and forced a smile. “But enough of such things. Where shall we wander?”

They did not wander terribly far in the end, since Halladan was beginning to slow and limp, having been on his leg all morning. So they sat at the embrasure at the far end of the courtyard and at the top of the huge cliff that looked out over the Pelennor. They chatted quietly about nothing terribly important, and soon he had made her forget the incident with Sidhwen had ever happened, at least for a little while.

She was called for after lunch, however - first by Arwen and then by Aragorn.

Arwen listened, head bowed as Penny explained what had happened and was backed up by Eleniel, Mireth and Meresel. Apparently Sidhwen had already been seen by the Queen, saying that Penny had insulted her and her family, so if she had lost her temper it was not without provocation. Arwen made it clear she felt this was utter nonsense and while she could not approve of Penny’s outburst, she understood it completely.

Aragorn was a slightly different matter. Gandalf and Elrond were with him as those who knew Penny well, and Faramir as his Steward. The meeting was kept informal, but Penny was left in no doubt that such an outburst was not to be tolerated, that Sidhwen was a lady of honour and good family and, for all her many faults, had to be treated with some respect.

“If you had heard what she said …”

“I am well aware of what she said, Pen-ii. I had a blow-by-blow account from Erestor and Faelon. Both of whom defended you admirably, might I add.”

“Lady Sidhwen has always been a little…” Faramir was clearly searching for a diplomatic way of putting it. “Highly strung, shall we say? It is best not to take too much notice of what she says.”

Gandalf insisted on walking her to the door, and as he did so she heard him chuckle.

“‘Female dog,’ Pen-ii? Tsk, tsk. Of course, I should perhaps point out that such a term, while not an insult in Sindarin, is a very great one in Westron. Just a word of caution.”

Penny could not tell if he was telling her off or providing her with possible ammunition for the future.

“For what it is worth, your spirited defence of warriors, marred or whole, has been noted and praised by several, including all here in this room… Though I do not doubt Elrond would prefer I did not tell you that…”

Penny looked at him in some surprise and confusion.

“Oh, I think he worries you might see it as encouragement to have a second bout with this Lady Sidhwen, but I know you better than that. You would not incur the wrath of a King, a wizard, several warrior elves and Dunedain, would you, Pen-ii?” He grinned as Penny blinked at him. “No, of course not.”

She was surprised to find Arvain, Halladan and Faelon waiting for her outside in the courtyard. As she greeted them, Faelon stepped forward to her and asked if she would like to join them for a ride outside the city.

“Just for an hour or two, for a change of scene,” he said, breezily enough.

Penny thanked them and said she would like nothing better.

She followed them down to the Sixth Circle and to the stables beside the Houses of Healing to find four horses saddled and ready, including the mare Penny had ridden all the way from Imladris.

There was no hint of where they were going, only that they seemed impatient to be off. The three men were smiling and chatting, but there was a mood of quiet seriousness and resolute determination about them that Penny could not quite fathom.

She was glad to be on a horse once more and to be leaving the city, though. She had not looked forward to spending the afternoon wondering if she was likely to bump into Sidhwen or any of her cronies any time soon.

The four made their way down through the levels and out onto the Pelennor. Once out of the gates, they turned right and slowly headed south along the main road for a good mile or so. The moment they turned south Penny briefly wondered if she could guess where they might be headed. It made her wary to ask where they might be going for fear of the answer. At the same time, if they were not heading there, then she wondered if she might finally find the courage to ask if they could take her to it.

However, after they turned down a small track, rode through some trees and then broke through into the sunlight once more, she was left in no doubt. Ahead there were a series of low mounds, many with standards beside them and surrounded by stones, ditches or spears.

If she had been walking, she would have faltered, perhaps slowed to a halt, but her mare kept a measured pace all the while.

Faelon slowed his horse and came alongside her.

“Legolas had a word with me,” Faelon explained quietly. “He guessed you were perhaps finding it difficult to know how to ask this of us or even if you should do so.”

Penny nodded slowly but could not find any words. She looked at Faelon who smiled gently.

Arvain and Halladan had fallen silent, she noted.

Soon enough they reached the meadow in which the low, large grassy humps were situated. They halted, and for a moment no one moved. Penny was not sure if she should say something or wait for them to take the lead, but none of the men showed any indication of doing anything at all. So at last Penny slowly dismounted and took a few steps towards the mounds.

They were of varying sizes. She could make out the standards of Gondor flying next to several; one or two had second, smaller standards she now knew to be that for the city of Dol Amroth. One large mound had a standard above it with a white horse on a green background, and Penny knew that the many from Rohan who had fallen on the Pelennor lay there.

But it was the smallest, nearest mound that drew her eye.

Spears marked the east and west, and the western spear bore the king’s standard, a smaller copy of the one Arwen had made that Halbarad himself had carried and then Arvain after him: that of the royal line, of the Dunedain.

She glanced behind her to see Faelon and Arvain had now also dismounted but Halladan remained on his horse, his face unreadable, set like granite. Faelon and Arvain started towards her, but she stopped them without really knowing why.

“No… Let me go alone.”

This was a private moment, but also she did not want them to feel obliged to do something that might cause them distress, Arvain in particular, or that was perhaps not their custom.

It took no time to reach it. She had no idea what she was meant to do, what was expected of her, if anything. The mound was built quite high, in that it was no mere bump on the ground, but deliberately raised to the height of a few feet, but it was not terribly wide compared to the others. Only seven had fallen from the Dunedain, including Halbarad and Hirvell, and only three of those were buried here.

‘Only.’

Penny berated herself.

So here he was. The man who had rescued her, become her friend and, for so brief a time, become her rock. Here, in the earth right next to her… and his son was not even with him but miles away in some cold spot next to just about the worst place in Arda.

She had to do something, make some gesture, however futile and redundant.

She glanced about her and saw spots of colour in the meadow grass. No more than weeds, she did not doubt, but no matter. She spent a few minutes picking a bunch of the prettiest she could find. Then coming back to the mound, she crouched down, placing the flowers on the side of the mound and, almost without realising she was doing so, laid her hand on the earth beside them.

How long she stayed like that, one hand resting on the mound, her head bowed as she wept silently, she had no idea, but after some time she felt a gentle hand press on her shoulder. She looked up to see Faelon smiling sadly down on her.

“Come,” he said quietly. “It is time we left the dead to their rest.”

She nodded, wiping her face with her hand and getting to her feet.

“We felt… they felt,” he said glancing back at the two brothers, one standing, one still astride his horse and both watching her in silence, “you had a right to be shown this place, to come and say your farewell as you saw fit.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No, thank you. It is not our custom,” he indicated the flowers, “but the gesture means much. And after your spirited defence of us all today, well… I am glad to bring you here. He would have wanted it. He would have been proud of what you said today.”

She forced a smile. “Do not say things like that, Faelon, you will make me cry once more.”

He managed a half-hearted chuckle.

They walked slowly back to the horses.

Arvain was smiling sadly at her, his face looking more drawn than she had ever seen it, but that was perhaps to be expected. He merely nodded once as their eyes met and she understood: it was his way of thanking her the way Faelon had just done, even if he was, for once, unable to find his voice.

Halladan had not moved in all this time. His face was dark and sombre. As Penny moved past him to her horse, he said her name. She looked up at him, and the depth of sorrow and grief in his face nearly broke her heart.

“He would have been proud to see you honour him so,” he said quietly, his voice thick and gravely with emotion.

“It is the very least I could do for one as noble and kind as he,” she replied. “I only wish I could do more.”

And she meant it.

At first the journey back to the city was subdued if not completely silent for the most part. Faelon would on occasion point out a landmark or building to Penny, but otherwise she had only the countryside to look at and the presence of three burdened men to remind her of where she had just been. She was lost in her own thoughts also, so she would have been in no mood for conversation. She was grateful, though, that they had taken her, and glad that it had been them who had done so, these men who had known and loved Halbarad so well, and not anyone else.

After some time, however, when they were about halfway back to the city, Faelon made a point of telling a few stories of Halbarad, the man he had known since childhood. He and Halbarad were of the same generation, had fought side by side on many occasions, and both their families were close. Faelon soon had Arvain laughing out loud with various memories, prompting Arvain to add a few of his own. Halladan was still quiet, but smiling broadly or shaking his head now and then at some tale or other. By the time they made it all the way back up to the Sixth Circle, the mood was quite different from when they had left the graves.

As they dismounted and began undoing fastenings on saddles and bridles before handing the horses over to the stable lads, Penny found she and Halladan were standing practically side by side. She paused before lifting off her saddle.

“Halladan?”

“Yes?” He glanced up as he undid a bridle fastening on his horse.

“Thank you. This has meant a lot to me.”

He said nothing, smiled thinly but sincerely, and then focused back on the bridle.

That evening Penny made a point of staying outside in the courtyard, away from the general company. Even so she had a couple of people come up to her and say they had heard what she had said in defence of Hiluin and soldiers in general and that they were glad. Sam was particularly insistent on this point.

“I think it is a liberty, and no mistake. I might not have fought in any great battle to speak of, though we did have that moment on Amon Sûl that I will not forget in a hurry and them orcs in Moria too, but to speak so ill of those who went through so much… Why it makes my blood boil, it truly does!”

He was not the only one to feel that way.

On the other side of the coin, there were the many, perhaps more, who raised an eyebrow or two at Penny’s manner of going about it. Clearly she was a woman who lacked either self-control or a sense of decorum. Was she really the sort wanted in the royal court? Very possibly not, if that sort of outburst was to be a regular occurrence. There were enough looks, whispering, pointing and muttering for Penny to realise that if she did indeed stay on in Gondor, her actions had certainly made sure that life would be very difficult for her once the elves and Dunedain had left. Not only that, but she would have to share a city, indeed be part of the same small group of nobles, as Sidhwen, Sidhwen’s family and Sidhwen’s friends. For all the support Penny had for her sentiment, her behaviour had thrown up more problems than it solved.

Sidhwen was conspicuous by her absence that evening, and her entourage were particularly quiet, sulking in dark corners for most of the evening and looking rather put out. Sidhwen had been dealt with most courteously by the King and Queen, as was to be expected given the grace and nobility of the two, but whispering was rife as to what had gone on behind closed doors.

The King had been ‘somewhat cool’ in his manner to her, asking rather harshly if it was true she had declared Hiluin a coward for being affected by war. It was added, on good authority, that Sidhwen’s father had been there with her, his gaze furious and his cheeks flushed with shame to hear his daughter had been so cavalier about a soldier’s plight and so insulting to a guest of the realm and a personal friend of the Queen. The Queen, it was said, had taken Sidhwen’s father aside and gently but firmly suggested he might like to take Sidhwen to visit family in Lebennin for a few days or at least until the royal entourage left with King Eomer to travel to Rohan and, no, Lady Sidhwen would not be accompanying her on that little sojourn away.

It was clear, then, that Sidhwen was out of favour with the court. Apparently she was packing her bags even as Penny sat down to dinner.

However, Penny took no joy from this knowledge, since she could guess easily enough it would only serve to make Sidhwen and her supporters loathe Penny all the more. It made the prospect of being ‘gently persuaded’ to stay in Minas Tirith even less appealing that it already was.

The next day Meresel had insisted Penny, Eleniel and Mireth join her and her two boys as she went to visit her sister on the Pelennor. They walked, since it was no more than a mile from the city, if not a little less. Her boys were five and three and complained of being tired after a little while. Eleniel, Penny and Mireth sang them songs, took turns in carrying them both, and pointed out wildlife and flowers, asking their local names, to keep them entertained, and the time passed quickly enough.

Meresel’s sister and her husband owned a large orchard, much of which had been decimated by random acts of orcish vandalism – mainly involving setting fire to some trees and chopping great big chunks out of others. There were several people in the fields helping them to clear the way for new trees once saplings could be grown, and Penny recognised one or two elves and a Dunadan amongst them.

They spent the day there, having a picnic out on the meadow in front of the small cottage, and only came back in the late afternoon.

Again, Penny was glad to be out of the city once more and it made the return to the stone streets that much more oppressive. That familiarity was beginning to take its toll on her: it was making her feel slightly homesick for the first time in a long time, and that very familiarity was also throwing the differences of her new life into a sharper relief than ever.

That evening she still felt a little uncomfortable dodging the black looks from Sidhwen’s friends as she accepted dances from various Gondorian lords, elves or Dunedain. The word was Hiluin’s wife was still gravely ill and Hiluin had not spoken one word since the incident. Penny was not the only one upset to hear this.

She came outside to find Halladan was at some distance from the Hall, but Arvain and Faelon were chatting quietly with Celeborn.

“Ah, Pen-ii,” Celeborn smiled as she came towards them. “Taking some air?”

“Something like that, my lord.”

“Have you heard? Lady Sidhwen left the city this morning.” Arvain looked faintly relieved.

“Yes, I had heard.” Penny did not sound overly thrilled.

They chatted for a little while, and then Celeborn made his apologies, saying he should probably head back inside and be sociable. Arvain said he would join him since Penny was not in the mood for dancing, but Faelon had just lit his pipe and so kept Penny company.

They chatted of this and that, Faelon asking about her day and the like. Halladan was just visible, walking by himself at the far end of the courtyard, seemingly deep in his own thoughts. Faelon fell into silence, taking contemplative pulls at his pipe every now and then while Penny watched Halladan slowly pace to and fro in the distance.

“Faelon?”

“Hmm?”

“I realise… I mean I know Halladan’s loss was a hard one, but I find it difficult to understand why he and Arvain are so very different. Halladan’s grief seems so much deeper.”

Faelon looked at her, his eyes sharp. “You have not asked him?”

“I would not dare. I suspect it is a subject he would rather never discuss.”

“It is indeed. I am still surprised the story has not filtered through to you, or even that Arvain had not mentioned it.”

“Arvain nearly said something to me once, but what it might have been I have no idea.”

Faelon took his pipe away from his mouth and gave a heavy sigh. He stared at the flagstones in front of him for a moment or two.

“Halbarad’s death was hard for the three of them, indeed for all of us who knew him well. He was a fine and noble man, a credit to his race, a Dunadan through and through. Halladan and Arvain were there when he was injured; Arvain bore the standard and Halladan stood over his father, defending him to the last. All three were there when he died, surrounded by us, his kin. The three were united in grief – they had lost much, but they had each other.”

Faelon paused and looked straight ahead of him.

“And then Halladan and Arvain lost Hirvell too.”

Penny nodded. She had not expected to hear about Halbarad as well. She was struck dumb by emotion.

“Halladan…,” Faelon was looking at her now, “Halladan saw Hirvell die.”

Penny was confused for a moment. Faelon had just said all three brothers had seen Halbarad die, so how would Hirvell be any different? Then, as Faelon said nothing, waiting for her to perhaps work it out for herself, the penny dropped and she gasped.

Halbarad had been injured, died slowly defended by those who had loved him.

Hirvell had been brutally and almost instantly killed in the heat of battle.

She looked back across the courtyard at the figure of Halladan still walking slowly in the dark.

She had no words…

“I was not near them when Hirvell fell, and since Halladan has never spoken of it even to Arvain as far as I know, I do not know exactly what happened, though I and others can surmise much. All I know is that as the hordes ran screaming, chased in a rout, Halladan lay injured and Hirvell dead beside him.” He paused once more and his voice became desperately quiet. “We knew it was a Dunadan, but it was only because Halladan had seen him killed that we knew it was his brother.”

‘I did not need to hear that!’ Penny was screaming at herself inside her head, ‘I did NOT need to hear that! Why the hell could I not keep my big mouth shut?’

“Halladan insisted Arvain not see his brother like that.” Faelon was getting quieter, his tone grimmer with every word. “I am not sure Arvain has ever quite got over it, ever quite forgiven him, but if Halladan had not insisted, then I would have done.”

Penny could almost imagine it in her mind’s eye: Arvain roaring, raging, desperate to see what was left of Hirvell but held back and fighting those who held him, and Halladan injured, bleeding and white with shock.

She wished she had never asked.

The next day was market day once more, and that was something that would help Penny take her mind off things for a few hours. Since days out seemed to help, it had been decided that she and a few others would go for a ride afterwards if the weather stayed fine.

She eagerly joined the others at breakfast, looking forward to the day and to what she might buy. She had borrowed a basket from Milves’s infamous store cupboard under the stairs in their lodgings, and no sooner was breakfast done than she eagerly marched off down the hill with Lindir, Arvain, Halladan, Mireth, Celebdor and Eleniel.

Much like the previous week, they soon became slightly separated and strung out as each took an interest in particular things that had caught their eye. Celebdor and Mireth in particular seemed to be fond of wandering off hand in hand. Penny had not really come to any decision about the sort of thing she should be thinking of buying. It all depended on how much things were and how much she had. If she could only afford food, then she might consider buying something that might last a while like dried apricots, but she really hoped she had enough to buy something truly Gondorian that would serve as a keepsake if she left Gondor as she still hoped she might. That would be expensive, though.

“Ah, it is so hard to choose,” she muttered, pouring over some very finely worked bits of leather, wondering if a small hair piece, a simple strip of leather with a pointed stick through it, might be both cheap and suitably Gondorian.

“There is something in particular you wanted?” Halladan asked. “Please, allow me…” His hand moved to his sword belt and the small pouch hanging from it.

“No, no.” She smiled. “No, I intend to buy something for myself. I have a little coin.”

And she explained the situation of how she had come by it.

“The problem is,” she continued, “I have no idea how much I have. I would like to be able to buy some material for a dress or even a piece of craftwork, but I do not know if I have enough for such a thing.” She reached into the basket and produced a small leather pouch, similar to Halladan’s though not nearly as old or worn. She pulled at the neck and poured out a few gold coins into her palm. “See? Is this enough for a bolt of cloth or just a few apples?”

She was talking loudly and the leather merchant at the stall, seeing the coins, had suddenly got very animated and was now waving various expensive items at her encouragingly.

“Pen-ii!” Halladan quickly closed her palm, urging her to quickly put the money back in the pouch. He laughed. “Yes, I think you have more than enough there to buy a bolt of cloth. Perhaps even two.”

“I do!” She beamed, delighted.

“Yes, indeed. How many of those do you have?”

“Oh, only five.”

Halladan raised his eyebrows. “Five? Just how many of these vases and plates of yours did they take to market?”

“Not that many. Why…? Oh.” She had wondered if that would turn out to be the case. “They gave me far above the going rate, did they? That would not surprise me. It is very kind of them, but I feel rather dishonest…”

“Oh, I think if they gave you above the rate it would only have been by a small amount,” Halladan reassured her. “Elvish work sells at a pretty price, I can assure you. It is very sought after, and they quite deliberately do not sell many items at a time.”

“Mine was hardly of the same standard.”

“Well, they clearly thought well enough of it to give you a fair price,” Halladan said pointing to the basket where Penny had replaced the pouch. “Anyway, the point is that you can buy whatever item you had in mind without worrying, I think. Though if it was really very expensive…”

“No, only a small keepsake or one piece of material.”

“There is no need, though, Pen-ii. I would be happy to buy something if you wished for it. Better you save your money for when you might truly need it.”

“I thank you, Halladan, but no, this is… It is something I have to do, I want to do. It probably seems strange to you, but I am used to… well, I am used to fending for myself. I earned my own keep, lived by myself, did my own shopping. It has felt very strange for me to rely on others all this time.”

Halladan was looking at her curiously, though he smiled at her also. He understood, and yet it was a rather alien idea to him – a woman of Penny’s age voluntarily living by herself… Such a thing was unheard of in his society.

“Very well, if it means that much to you.” He paused. “But I insist on buying you some peaches, though. You enjoyed them so very much last week.”

He was deaf to Penny’s protests.

In the meantime she had to decide what she would buy, and even when some of the sellers were beginning to close up their stalls, she still had not made her decision. They had munched at fresh bread and fruit as they had wandered round the market and shops, and had decided they would not need lunch up at the halls.

They were slowly making their way through the market on their way to the stables on the far side of the First Circle. Just as they left the market place and started down the main street, Penny decided that, no, she would have that piece of fine red cloth she had been considering (and which Eleniel had agreed would suit her well), after all. She knew the amount to ask for and how to say it in Westron, since she had got that close to buying it an hour before that Eleniel had been coaching her in the necessary phrases.

“I will be right back,” she said hurriedly to Lindir, explaining where she was going.

The stall with the bolts of cloths was on the other side of the market square, set up outside the draper’s shop. It was easily visible from where they were since there was, near enough, a clear aisle all the way to it. Penny was only a few yards from it when she had to make way for a drayman coming past with several barrels. She stood to one side, between two stalls and near to the opening to a side alley.

Then, as the drayman passed her and just as Penny made to step out once more, she felt a sharp pull on the back of her skirts that made her stumble backwards into the mouth of the alley. Before she knew what was happening, and before she could think to shout out, a hand clamped over her mouth, an arm grabbed her round the waist and she was yanked backwards down the alley and out of public view.

The arm round her waist loosened its grip and slid upwards till it was pinned across her upper chest, one hand at her neck.

A voice hissed in Westron in her ear. “Scream, and I will cut you.”

She could feel the blade against her throat and did not need to guess what had just been said. Her mind was going in a thousand different directions at once, and at the same time she seemed frozen with fear.

The man was dragging her backwards, further down the alley which was very narrow and dark, and she was stumbling with him, aware only of his clammy hand on her mouth and the cold metal at her throat.

Her heart was thumping like mad.

She felt herself pulled sideways into an even danker and darker alleyway, and here he spun her round and pushed her up against the wall with one hand, the knife blade in his other hand glinting madly.

“Give me your money,” he snarled.

Penny’s throat was dry and she was so frightened she was in no fit state to try and translate from Westron. Her breathing was erratic, and all she could focus on was the knife and the look in this man’s eye.

‘Please, please, please, let him just want my money and nothing else!’

He made a grab for the basket, swapping the knife from one hand to the other to do so, and something in that action made Penny get a surge of foolish courage from somewhere.

She refused to let go.

“No!”

Instead of just stabbing her, the man pulled at the basket all the harder, and there was a tussle.

“Let go, you bastard!” she yelled, reverting to her native tongue without even realising it. “NO! LET GO! LET… GO!”

The man, still struggling with her, tried to jam his knife into his belt so he could use two hands on the handle, but it slipped out of his hand and onto the cobbles instead. Now desperate, the man, keeping one hand on the basket’s handle, shoved the other hand into the basket. Penny tried to scrabble at his wrist, acting on every stupid instinct in her body, but he pulled the money purse out nonetheless, wrenching the basket away from her at last with a snarl and then smacked her round the head with it.

She screamed as she raised her hands to protect herself and, as the basket clattered to the floor, she wondered if this was it and she was going to be beaten to death at the hands of some stinking mugger deep in the dank alleyways of Gondor.

But a second blow never came.

And before some of you self-combust over the chapter ending: rest assured the next chapter will be posted shortly. ;)

My sincere thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I promised you all a quick update (hence my risking the cliffie at the end of the previous one), and here it is.

Warning for this chapter: contains angst that some may find distressing.

Chapter 33 – “Fear and Loathing in Minas Tirith”

Mireth and Celebdor had walked on ahead, but Eleniel had stopped to look at some pottery, discussing its merits (or otherwise) with Lindir. Halladan was keeping half an eye on Penny while listening to Arvain relating a rather detailed joke he had heard the previous night. He glanced back across the market place just in time to see Penny duck out of the way of the drayman. Arvain came to the punchline, Halladan turned to him for a moment, grinning and chuckled heartily, and then glanced back across the square.

There was no sign of Penny anywhere.

Halladan immediately straightened himself, looking more keenly into the crowd. Perhaps it was his Dunadan blood, or simply his long years as a ranger and warrior, but his instincts instantly told him something was not right.

“Arvain? Can you see Pen-ii anywhere?”

Arvain did not even need to look at his brother’s concerned face to immediately scan the ever thinning crowds in the square – he had heard the note of alarm in his brother’s voice and knew that tone too well not to act on it instantly. Lindir had also heard him and turned around to them both, looking worried, if only because of the way they were acting.

“She cannot have gone far, Halladan,” Arvain was saying even as he realised that he also could see no trace of her.

But Halladan was not listening. He was already moving as quickly as he could back into the market place, down to the spot where he had last seen her. Arvain, again picking up his brother’s mood, exchanged a meaningful glance with Lindir and hurried after his brother.

“What is it, Lindir? What has happened?”

“Oh, nothing, Eleniel. Pen-ii has just wandered off somewhere. We will find her, do not fear.” Lindir tried to sound as breezy and unconcerned as possible. “Go and catch up Mireth and Celebdor. We will meet you at the stables.”

So saying, Lindir followed the brothers into the throng.

Halladan was about level with the entrance to the alleyway, the spot where he had last seen Penny, and Arvain had overtaken him, and had begun jogging up to the draper’s stall, looking left and right as he did so.

“NO! LET GO! LET… GO!”

Halladan heard it above the general hubbub, if only because he was more or less in front of the alleyway entrance, it was a voice he knew, Penny was shouting and doing so in English. Lindir had also caught it with his sensitive elvish hearing, even though he was a little way behind him. Halladan stopped, looking to his left in the direction it had come from, yelling for his brother as he did so. He saw the alleyway entrance and started towards it as Arvain rejoined him and Lindir hurried to catch them up.

“AAAIIIIIII!”

If there was moment of shock amongst the three, it was barely noticeable.

Instantly, Halladan was off at the nearest he could achieve to a run. It was more of a lollop, admittedly, with his bad leg barely making contact with the ground and his stick held in his hand more like a weapon than a support, but he only had a relatively short distance to cover. Arvain was right behind him and Lindir was running, shoving his way through the crowd to follow them. Several Gondorians in the street had heard the scream as well and were looking alarmed. Two men followed Arvain down the alleyway, Lindir pushing past them as they did so, and several others hurried across the square to the gate to fetch soldiers in case they were needed.

Halladan was going at a fair pace for someone with a gammy leg, but Arvain still overtook him and reached the side alley just one step ahead of him, only to be half winded as a man clasping Penny’s money sack crashed into him, throwing him up against the opposite wall. In the same moment Arvain glanced up the side alley to see Penny in an untidy heap on the floor, arms wrapped around her head. He yelled out her name even as he hit the wall, while at the same time there was a roar from his right. Acting on pure instinct, he ducked just as Halladan’s stick came whistling past his ear, landing square on the mugger’s temple.

The man was knocked reeling to the floor limbs flailing, cursing loudly and blood pouring from his head.

Halladan, glancing to his right and down the side alley, could make out Penny in an untidy heap on the floor, cowering, her arms still over her head.

“PEN-II!”

He hurriedly limped his way the few feet down the alley to reach her.

“Pen-ii!”

She was uncurling her arms, looking round her in shock.

“Halladan?”

He held out a hand, and she accepted it, shakily getting to her feet.

“Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”

“N-no.”

She blinked, bewildered, clearly overwhelmed. She looked on the verge of collapsing into tears and near threw herself at him, choking back a sob, clutching onto him. He held her, his face showing the mixture of emotions running though him right now, not least of which were fury, concern and a good amount of self-reproach.

Back in the main alleyway Lindir had arrived, his eyes blazing with rage and, as Arvain caught his breath, Lindir yanked the thief unceremoniously to his feet. The man stumbled slightly, one hand clutching his head and blood trickling out from between his fingers. Lindir quickly had the man’s other arm behind the man’s back in a half-nelson, holding the man’s shoulder firmly as he waited for the soldiers he knew were hurrying across the square towards them. He was snarling at the thief in Westron, saying something about it being extremely fortunate for him that Halladan had got to him first and that there were now too many witnesses around, otherwise…

The man whimpered and tried to shrink away from Lindir in fear but Lindir kept a firm grip on the man’s wrist and shoulder, hard enough that likely as not he left bruises.

Halladan glanced up as Arvain came down the side alley towards him. He noticed where Arvain’s gaze was directed and followed it to see the fallen knife lying on the stones. With a gasp he suddenly pulled back from Penny, holding her a little away from himself also.

“You are sure you are not injured?” He was scanning her up and down as he spoke, looking for any sign of blood in the gloom.

“No, I assure you.” She was recovering her composure, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen now the wave of relief had passed.

Arvain was now also pressing Penny and she was once again insisting she was quite unharmed, that the man had indeed scared her, but no more than that. She bent to pick up the basket and the few bits of fruit that had fallen with it.

“Let me,” Arvain said quickly, staying her with a touch on her arm and crouching down to grab the basket. As he did so, he reached for the blade, examining it. He raised an eyebrow and passed it up to Halladan. He too seemed surprised.

“Blunt,” Halladan said simply.

Penny unconsciously rubbed at her throat and breathed a sigh of relief. Halladan was looking at her.

“He held this at your throat!”

His eyes blazed and his voice was furious. He exchanged a glance with Arvain who got to his feet, his jaw tight.

“Bastard,” Arvain snarled.

Penny looked confused, this being a new word to her, but no one seemed like they were going to translate it any time soon.

Halladan pushed past Arvain back to the alleyway.

“This yours?!” he roared at the mugger, brandishing the knife by its blade.

“It is n-not sh-sharp,” the man stammered. “I never m-meant to do her any…”

“AND SHE WAS MEANT TO KNOW THAT, WAS SHE?!”

Halladan was incandescent. He flung the knife at the man’s feet where it bounced off his boots harmlessly.

Lindir, who had not loosed his hold on the man, now shoved him face first up against the wall with a snarl. The man cried out an oath.

“What is going on here, my lords?”

One of the soldiers from the gate had arrived, a colleague only a little way behind him.

The situation was quickly explained. The man had, by his own response to Halladan, admitted his crime, though the fact that he had been caught red-handed in possession of Penny’s purse would have been enough

Penny appeared in the entrance to the side alley, Arvain with her and holding the basket, his other hand resting between Penny’s shoulder blades. One of the soldiers spoke to her, asking her to verify what had been said and she just nodded dumbly, not wanting to look at the man still in Lindir’s grasp.

“He did not attempt to hurt you, my lady?”

“No, merely scared me and threw my basket at me. No more.”

Arvain looked down at the basket in his hand, glared up at the man and took a step forward, raising the basket across his body as he did so as if he would strike the thief with it.

“WHY YOU…!”

Halladan stopped him, one hand against his brother’s chest.

The thief was led away by the soldiers who, it has to be said, were none too gentle with him. The Gondorians followed on after asking if they could assist in any way. Lindir thanked them and said there was no need.

Lindir stepped forward to Penny, gently taking hold of her upper arm.

“I am fine,” she said even before he could ask. She forced a smile. “Really. A little shaken, perhaps, but none the worse for that. It all happened very fast. He ran, he did not stay to hurt me – he ran.” The relief in her voice was unmistakeable and all three could only imagine what she must have feared.

“This is yours, I believe.” Lindir held out the purse.

She shook her head. “Would one of you carry it for me?” she asked quietly.

Halladan held out his hand for it. He took it and tied it onto his sword belt alongside his own purse.

There was a hiatus, all three males looking at Penny rather anxiously, seemingly unsure as to what to say.

“Look, I am safe, I am uninjured, and you all rushed to my aid and I cannot thank you enough…”

“No, Pen-ii,” Lindir said quietly. “We should have been with you, this should never have happened.”

Arvain and Halladan said nothing, but their expressions showed they were as angry with themselves as anything.

“What? No! I go shopping by myself all the time! ... I mean, I did…” She trailed off.

“She was only going a short distance, Lindir,” Arvain said.

“You know as well as I there have been instances of thievery in the markets of late,” Halladan replied. “For all that Aragorn has improved things, there are still some who…”

“Pen-ii?” Mireth was running down the alleyway to them, Eleniel and Celebdor behind her. “Pen-ii? What happened? We saw you all running this way, and then soldiers and a man being dragged off…”

“I am fine! Really! Halladan, Arvain and Lindir here came to my rescue. The man tried to take my money, that is all.”

Mireth and Eleniel gasped, Celebdor, behind them looked dark.

The two ellith immediately started fussing over Penny, asking her umpteen questions, insisting they call off the afternoon out, that she had to go back up to their lodgings to rest, that she was no doubt in shock. Penny was looking harassed and strained.

“No, please, do not cancel our plans, I would like… But I am fine, I tell you… Eleniel, you are not listening to me…”

“I see no reason for us to change our plans if Pen-ii feels she can manage it,” Lindir cut in.

“I agree,” Halladan said firmly.

And before the ellith could object, the four males marched up the alleyway, bundling a grateful Penny with them.

The last thing Penny wanted was a fuss made. She was feeling shaken and not at all herself, but the idea of going up to the Citadel, where no doubt the news would be round the court within ten minutes and everyone would be asking if she was alright and getting her to go over it all again and again, was the last thing she wanted right now.

Eleniel held her hand as they walked to the stables. Mireth stopped a passing baker’s boy and got him, for a coin that made his eyes stick out on stalks, to take their shopping up to the Citadel for them. She whispered something to Celebdor and hurried off with him into the market crowd. When they rejoined them all at the stables they were looking rather pleased with themselves.

Penny was subdued as her mare was brought out to her and insisted on saddling her up herself since it would, frankly, give her something else to think about.

Mireth and Eleniel were concerned, though, and much as they tried they could not help asking if Penny was sure she was well every few minutes, and whether this outing was really such a good idea, even as they rode out of the gates. None of which helped to make Penny more talkative or less subdued in the least. Not that she blamed them – they were her friends and were worried she had been in such a horrible situation. However, after they had gone no more than half a mile or so from the city, Lindir did become a little sharp with them both, which the ellith clearly felt was unnecessary and protested.

After that Penny hung back to let the ellith catch up with Celebdor and Arvain at the front.

Halladan came alongside her.

“I find a good hard gallop helps me to take my mind away from whatever may be troubling it for a while,” he said quietly. “How does that sound?”

“Thank you, Halladan,” Penny replied, breathing a huge sigh of relief. It sounded ideal.

Halladan turned his horse slightly, taking it off the path and onto the meadow. He called out to the others. “We are going to exercise our horses. We will catch up with you later.”

“Fair enough,” Celebdor responded even as Penny also turned her mare to follow Halladan’s.

“But…” Eleniel started.

“We will see you later, brother!” Arvain shouted and lifted his hand.

Halladan said a word to his horse and it started off at a cracking pace.

“Pen-ii…?” Mireth said, somewhat startled. Lindir told her to not fuss.

Penny rode off into the distance after Halladan.

It was the best thing anyone could have suggested as far as Penny was concerned. No possibility of thinking or chatter, just riding flat out, fast and furious, her hair whipping back with the speed of it, the countryside thundering past her: it was glorious.

They went quite some way, not letting up the pace, dodging round copses and just thundering on and on.

After a while, Halladan slowed. He was grinning as he looked at her.

“Better?”

“Much!”

She matched his grin with her own.

They had reached a meadow that sloped gently down to a stream. Far behind them the dark, tall walls of the city loomed out of the mountainside, but Penny was trying not to think about it for the time being.

“This is a pretty spot. Can we stop?”

“Of course.” Halladan replied. “It would do well to rest the horses a little anyway.”

So they dismounted and wandered down to the side of the stream. Penny knelt and cupped some water in her hands, splashing her face and wiping her neck. She stared into the water. She still could not quite believe what had happened to her, but being here, surrounded by something entirely different to that dank, stinking alley, helped hugely. It was over, it was past. She was safe, and it seemed clear the man had never intended to hurt her, only scare her into giving him her money. She was fine. Really, she was FINE.

“Pen-ii?”

“What? Oh, forgive me.” She forced a weak smile. “Lost in my thoughts.”

He nodded. He was sitting on the grass, leaning on one hand and one knee bent with the wrist of his other arm resting on it.

“It is good to be out of the city,” she continued. She glanced back in the direction of it. “And not just because of…”

His brow furrowed in concern and she decided to change the subject.

“I lived in a city.”

“Indeed? Like Minas Tirith?”

“A little, but much, much bigger.”

Halladan seemed surprised.

“It is strange to be surrounded by stone again after so long in the countryside. It is the first time since I arrived here…” She paused. “It is good to be out of the city, that is all.”

“The city reminds you of home?”

She nodded, suddenly looking quite sad. “In many ways. I am not a ‘country girl’. Stone buildings and roads… it is what I am used to, it is what I grew up with, and yet… everything is so very different. It is similar but not similar at the same time and that just makes it all the harder.” She gave a rueful smile. “It is not only that, of course. There is all the aftermath of the War which is hard to get used to, and not only because I have never experienced such a thing before.”

“I can understand it must be difficult for you.”

They fell into silence, the only sound a bird singing in a nearby tree at the water’s edge.

“It will be hard for you to stay here if the mere buildings make you feel this way,” Halladan said at last.

“I do not want to stay.”

She had told no one this, or not as clearly stated as this. The closest she had come to it was her conversation with Erestor over a week before.

“No?” If he was surprised he did not show it.

“No,” she shook her head. “I have never liked the idea. I worried about it all the way here and now that I am here, well…” She sighed.

“Well, some like Sidhwen have not made it easy for you.”

“It is not only that, Halladan. I have nothing in common with these people. I have difficulty communicating, I find their way of life incomprehensible at times… In some ways Sidhwen was right, I probably am the equivalent of a peasant to her. I certainly feel more at home with the likes of Milves than I do with her and her breed.”

“Do not ever say things like that,” Halladan said with feeling. “Do not compare yourself to the likes of her and consider yourself beneath her.”

“I do not, I assure you. I think Milves is worth ten of Sidhwen any day.”

He laughed then. “And I would agree with you wholeheartedly, Pen-ii, as would many others, I do not doubt!”

“I have more in common with elves than I do with the mortals I have met. In Rohan I was treated with hostility and suspicion, and in some ways it has occurred here in Gondor once more, though it has been more subtle. I am so very strange to them all, so very different.”

“Perhaps. You are unlearned in their ways, but that is possibly no bad thing if Sidhwen is an example of what those who follow such ways come to. So do you feel you have more in common with elves than with all the mortals you have met? You have nothing in common with the Dunedain, then?” There was the hint of a smirk on his face.

“What? Oh, no! I only meant…”

He laughed. “I know, I know. And you are right – we Dunedain are a race apart from most human races. We speak Sindarin, we associate with the elves, and our lineage and heritage set us at one remove. Like you, there are times when I feel Gondor is a foreign country to me, its people also, even though it is a link to my past, and its King is my King and my kinsman.”

“You are also a warrior, and you have fought here side by side with Gondorians and Rohirrim. That much you share. There are also, I do not doubt, certain aspects of society you would recognise here that are utterly strange to me… or perhaps not ‘strange’ so much as ‘old-fashioned’ where I come from.”

“Ah, I see. So ‘Old Fiery Pen-ii’ would have been frowned upon in your society several generations before your own?”

“Yes,” she replied, and then she was laughing as she asked, “He told you he called me that?”

“But of course!” He chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, I think that was the first indication we had, my brothers and I, that Father had met someone truly extraordinary. No one, but no one who knew my father, or even strangers that met him unawares, would have dared speak to him in such a manner.”

“Ai, do not say such things, Halladan!” She hung her head in her hands with a wince and a smile. “You have no idea how many times I apologised to him after I realised who and what he was.”

Their soft laughter slowly died away and for several minutes the only sound was the trickle of the water.

“You must miss him terribly,” Pen-ii said quietly at last.

“Yes.” He nodded, not looking at her. “Yes, I do.”

There was a pause.

“I miss my family too.”

It was the first time she had said it out loud. Galadriel had referred to it, but otherwise Penny tried not to think about them too much – it hurt too much to do so. Since arriving in Minas Tirith, though, with that weird, vague sense of familiarity to the place, it had been hard to ignore.

“Even my brother.”

“‘Even’? You did not get on?”

“No. Never. ‘Like chalk and cheese’ as we would say in my tongue. We loathe each other. We can barely meet without an argument.”

“You do not see your family regularly?”

“What? No!” She looked at him as if he were insane. “They would drive me crazy! I left home as soon as I could! Even then I still have my mother fussing after me and worrying…”

“Well, she is your mother. It is what mothers do, is it not?”

“Halladan, believe me, there is ‘mothering’ and there is ‘mothering,’ and my mother has no idea about when to leave well enough alone.”

“Oh?” He was grinning once more, curious and strangely pleased to hear her talking about her family in this way.

“‘You need to find a nice man, Penny. Ooh, I know just the chap, Penny – his mother is the second cousin of a lady I met in the fish shop last week…’”

Halladan roared with laughter.

“You think I am joking?”

“Every family has its moments.”

“Even yours?”

“Oh, especially mine. Can you imagine four males trying to live under one roof? We had blazing rows on occasion. Though we always had a respect for Father. There was a line you never crossed with him, though Hirvell would often get dangerously close. Ai, he was always the hot-tempered one. Would get into towering rages over nothing. Arvain was good at needling him, and when they were younger…” He shook his head. “Arvain would just keep on at him until he would explode. He would always regret it afterwards. Would carve him something or make him some toy later to make up for it. They were always close.”

“And you were not?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. But as the eldest… Well, it was different, that is all.”

She remembered what Lindir had said about Halladan even as a young teenager seeing himself as a helper to his father, the strong one, the one who had to help look out for his kid brothers. She smiled.

“What are you smiling about?”

“It is the first time you have spoken of him to me. Hirvell, I mean.” She looked at him. “I am glad.”

A shadow passed over Halladan’s expression, not sadness so much as a melancholy. Penny immediately regretted having pointed it out - it was the wrong thing to have done. Halladan turned away slightly, looking out somewhere to his right and toward the trees on the other side of the stream.

Penny decided to try and break the mood.

“Of course, I always wished I had a brother I could get on with,” she said brightly. “You would have thought with just me, him and my mother it would have brought us closer, but no. He was always the baby, the pampered one, my mother thought he could do no wrong and he would play on it all the time…”

She faltered.

She did miss him, in spite of it all.

It was like a death. If she was indeed stuck here forever, then… was this grief? She had not thought of it in those terms before. She had only hoped she would never go home, back to a life that, frankly, for all this world’s hardships and horrors, could not compare, but now… now she realised if that happened, she would never see them again.

She tried to focus on something else. The place where they were sitting was lovely. The meadow flowers, the birds in the trees…

“That is a rather pretty bird,” she said. “What is it called, do you know?”

There was no reply.

“Halladan?”

She turned to him and immediately knew something was wrong.

Halladan was pale. He had been looking at the trees across the bank when he had gasped, as if it had only just then occurred to him that they seemed familiar. Then, as he glanced around him, it was as if he was seeing where they actually were for the first time: the stream, the trees, the low slope…

“We should not have come here,” he murmured. He was looking worried and it was making Penny nervous.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

Halladan was swallowing hard, still looking round himself, but now also hurriedly getting to his feet.

“We need to leave,” he said, his tone urgent. “Now!”

“But why?” She was getting panicky, standing as well, following his lead.

“Just…”

And then he stopped, his breathing suddenly quickening, his gaze unfocused.

“Go!” he rasped.

She just looked at him, bewildered and getting frightened.

“GO! NOW! GET TO THE HORSES!”

He had shouted, yes, but it had been less an angry order, more a desperate, urgent plea. He had stumbled and turned away from her a few steps as he had spoken too, dropping his stick as he did so.

Penny stood frozen to the spot, uncertain of what was happening or what she should do. It was all happening so quickly, and entirely out of the blue. She glanced around but could see no one near them, no approaching danger, and Halladan did not exactly seem to be behaving as if that was the problem…

Was he in pain? Was he having an attack of some kind? He was breathing hard, almost choking back sobs or so it sounded like, both hands clutching his head as if fighting some inner turmoil.

Then, suddenly, his head seemed to almost snap upright, at the same time he was turning round a little, his eyes wide with fear and alarm.

And yet there was something about him that…

“NO!” he roared, and in that next instant there was the ‘schlack’ of his sword being drawn. He held the pommel with both hands, looking wild, defensive, backing slightly and circling slowly. His face was fierce and furious.

Penny stared at him in horror. He was looking at something that patently was not there.

He was muttering, snarling, using words Penny had never heard before but she could guess were ones that would make Erestor’s hair stand on end if she ever repeated them. She could make out ‘vile’ and ‘evil butchers’ and ‘slay you like dogs’ and various other things, and her heart was hammering against her ribs and she did not know whether to run like the wind or speak to him or…

No, if she ran, he might mistake her for an orc.

His voice was getting louder now, rising, more desperate, more furious.

They would never take him alive, did they hear him! Never! He would go down fighting! They would have to bleed him dry before they brought him down, just like they did to…!

And suddenly he was roaring, screaming in rage and pain, lashing out blindly at thin air.

“HIRVELL! NO! NO!”

If Penny had tears on her cheeks at that point she did not notice. She could not let this continue and had no idea what was the right thing to do, but she refused to just stand there and let this happen.

“Halladan!”

She was so scared she could hardly get his name out, and when he spun round to her, his sword aimed right at her, his gaze unseeing and clearly not recognising her, she had to fight every instinct in her body not to run. She was trembling as she held up one hand, hardly daring to breathe.

“Halladan? It is me… Penny… Can you hear me?”

And she knew what she was doing was probably incredibly stupid but it was all she could think of and she could not do nothing.

Halladan had not advanced on her. He still held the sword high in her direction, though; was still looking at her in that horribly unfamiliar, unfocused way: suspicious, unsure…

“Halladan, whatever you can see… It is not true. It is not there.”

He was still glaring at her, still not moving.

“The War is over. There is no battle. Just a meadow and flowers and… Can you hear the birds? You can hear the birds, can you not? Listen to the bird song, Halladan…”

His breathing was still ragged, but she could see him faltering slightly, his sword lowering a little.

“There can be no battle if I am here, if birds are singing. I know you can see things, but they are not true… none of it… it is past, Halladan, long past…”

He was shaking. She could see the sword was wobbling ever so slightly.

There was a horribly long pause.

Slowly the sword got lower and lower till eventually one hand fell away from it and the other still held it but with the tip of the blade now resting on the ground. All the while, he was not looking at her but instead was glancing anxiously down, left, right, brows furrowed as if trying to work out how he could hear birdsong and yet still see… still hear…

Then the sword fell, and a moment later he sank to his knees.

She had never seen a man look more broken in her life.

She took a few steps towards him, even as he sank back onto his haunches and bowed his head and brought his hands to his face. Emboldened, she slowly, gently stepped up to him, crouched down beside him and laid one hand on his shoulder.

“Halladan?”

He was still shaking, quiet sobs being wrenched from his body.

“Please,” he croaked thickly, not looking up or removing his hands from his face, “Please… let me alone…”

She understood.

She got up slowly and quietly walked away, choking back her own tears. She walked up the slight slope to the horses, patting and quietening them in case they needed reassuring.

She kept glancing back at Halladan, and for a very long time he did not move. Only when at last she noticed he had straightened and was kneeling upright, staring straight ahead at nothing did she risk making her presence known once more.

“Halladan?”

Even as she took a few steps down the slope towards him, she could see him start as if roused from a reverie, clear his throat, and hurriedly get to his feet, making a bit of a show of brushing bits of loose grass from his clothes as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

It was as he reached for his stick that he noticed the sword: out of its scabbard and still lying on the grass slightly in front of him. He stared at it in shock for several moments then bent down to pick it up, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked back at Penny even as she neared him. The expression on his face made it clear he was horrified, that he had little memory of what had occurred and could only guess what might have actually happened. He seemed at a loss for words.

“I-I… Pen-ii, I…”

“Nothing happened,” she said quickly. “You did not draw your sword on me.”

He said nothing, just kept staring at her, appalled.

“You already had your sword drawn…”

“Do not lie to me, Pen-ii!”

“I am not! I swear to you!”

He looked keenly at her for a moment, as if gauging the truth of what she was saying.

“Did I threaten you?”

“N-no,” she said uncertainly.

“Did I recognise you? Lower my sword instantly?”

“Of course.”

There was a beat.

“Now I know you are lying. I can see it in your face.”

A spasm seemed to twist his face, though whether of rage or distress she could not tell. Perhaps it was both.

“I thought I had told you to get to the horses,” he said brusquely. He suddenly bent to get his stick as he spoke, not even looking at her but instead turning to walk up the slope to his stallion.

That was it?! That was all he was going to say?!

Penny did not for a moment think she had been the one to pull him out of whatever flashback he had been having. It may be some of her words had got through to him, helped a little, though just as possibly not and no doubt he would have come out of it at pretty much the same time anyway, but even so…!

She followed him back up the slope. He was rummaging in a sac that hung off his saddle, pulling out a piece of cloth and carefully wiping the blade clean before sheathing it.

“Halladan…”

He turned his head round sharply to look at her at last. The mask was up, his expression determined.

“I do not want to talk about it, is that clear?”

“But…!”

“No!”

“Halladan!” She was getting angry now, and she could see he was too, but bugger that, this was serious. “What happened just now…”

“You never listen, do you, Pen-ii!”

“Not when it is something as serious as this, no, Halladan, I do not!”

He had his hands resting on the saddle, almost as if he had half a mind to just get on the horse and ride back to the city, forget any of it had happened.

“Pen-ii,” he insisted through gritted teeth, “I would rather we never mentioned this again…”

No bloody way, José! Not on your life!

“How often has this happened?”

Halladan seemed completely taken aback by the question. He blinked at her, confused.

“I take it this is not the first time, given you realised what was coming, that you tried to if not warn me then get me out of the way, yes?”

“How did you…?”

“Oh, please, Halladan, I am not a complete fool! You are quiet, withdrawn, drinking hard, even your brother is concerned for you… Oh, do not look so surprised, I am sure he must have said something to you before now!”

“Arvain worries over much.” Halladan’s voice was quiet and strained. He looked away from her.

“And he has every right to worry, Halladan! Not only that but he loves you dearly. He has lost one brother. I am sure he has no desire to lose a second.”

“Pen-ii…”

Halladan’s attention seemed entirely focused on the saddle, and his tone made it clear he did not want to continue this conversation any further.

“Do you sleep at night?”

“What!”

“Do you sleep? Are you able to sleep? These…” she struggled to find a Sindarin expression that would fit, “these… waking dreams, where you see the battles you fought… Do they disturb your sleep as well?”

Halladan was staring at her open mouthed. She just looked back at him sadly.

“Halladan, you need to talk to someone,” she said quietly.

“You think I am the only one, Pen-ii?” His voice was harsh. “That I am the only one who has lost? The only who saw people die? I have been in battle before… How do you think it makes me feel to know I am this undone by it… where I cannot even… when I even draw a sword on…” He was struggling to maintain his composure, his grip on the saddle tighter than ever.

“You will not be another Hiluin.”

“And you know that for a fact, do you?”

She had no answer for him and long, silent seconds stretched between them.

“Exactly,” he said savagely.

He turned back to his horse, looking like he would dearly love to hit something right about now. Instead he near threw himself up into the saddle.

“Halladan…”

“NO, PEN-II! I will not speak of this! Do not mention it to me ever again! I am deeply ashamed you had to witness this, and for that I apologise. I am deeply ashamed I drew my sword on you… Do NOT argue the point, Pen-ii, it is what happened, and I will never forgive myself for it. Never, do you hear me? You should have left me as I asked you to.”

“Leave you? Leave you to be tormented by ghosts and dreams? No, Halladan! Not you, not anyone! You could not see yourself …” She could feel the tears coming once more at the memory of him crying out for his brother.

“I DO NOT NEED YOUR PITY!”

He glared at her for a moment, then turned his horse and rode off. Penny stared after him, shocked.

Of all the pig-headed, stubborn, obstinate…!

Presumably she was meant to obediently follow him and pretend none of this had ever happened. She was seriously tempted to just stand there, cross her arms and point blank refuse to get on her horse. See how he liked them apples!

Halladan, who was only going at a walking pace, had not turned round nor showed any signs of stopping.

Penny wavered.

“Argh! Men!”

Various expletives were muttered under her breath as she went over to her mare, climbed in the saddle and went off after him.

It did not take long to catch up with him.

“You are a stubborn man, Halladan,” she fumed.

She glanced sideways at him. His gaze was firmly fixed ahead of him, but she could see his jaw was tight.

“I realise you would prefer I had never been a witness to what happened just now, but I was, it happened, and if I am honest, I am glad. Does anyone else know this is happening to you?”

Stony silence.

“Halladan, let me say my piece and then, I promise you, I will never mention it again if you wish. I will also give you my word, here and now, that if you do not want me to mention this to anyone else, I will not do so even though I can think of several people who could, indeed probably should be told and who could help you.”

Halladan drew in a deep, loud breath through his nose as if trying to control his temper at that point.

“As I said, you have my word that for as long as you wish me to remain silent, I will do so. But I want to say something first. After that I will shut up, I promise. We have a long ride back to the city. If you do not let me speak now, then I will hound you until you let me do so, so you might as well get it over with.”

She waited, and since there was no response she carried on.

“I know I am very ignorant about many things which to you and everyone else seem basic if not the normal way of life, but I am not a stupid woman, Halladan. I learnt, I read while I was young. We called it ‘school’ in my tongue and I studied history, so I know a little about war and what it does to a man, or can do.”

The tension and fury emanating from Halladan were palpable, but Penny was damned if she was going to shut up: it needed saying, whether he liked it or not.

“There was a great war around seventy years before I was born. A terrible war. They thought it would be the war to end all wars; it was not, of course, since there was an even greater one soon after it, but the point is that in that war the healers amongst my people first started to document that men were coming back from war utterly changed. Because you see, that war was very different from any previously. The number of men killed, the manner in which they were killed was like nothing that had come before it. At first the healers and the ones in charge of the armies could not understand what it was, and it was only long years afterwards that the truth was accepted. The horror those men went through…it was like nothing anyone had known before, and it was relentless, no obvious means to bring an end to it all, no clear point or purpose behind many of the battles and the deaths. It sent some of the soldiers mad, literally mad on the battlefield. They did not know where they were or what they were doing. They were killed for cowardice whereas in fact they had lost their minds.”

She glanced at him. His face was still set, but his head was bowed a little and his demeanour had relaxed a little, almost imperceptibly. He was listening.

“Not all of them. Most managed to retain enough sanity to get home, but many were very ill, in their heads, with the shock, because of what they had seen and lived through. They suffered great torment afterwards – nightmares, waking dreams, reliving all they had been through. There is only so much a man can take. From that point on, though as I say it did take time to understand it, it became known and accepted that this was an inevitable consequence of war for many soldiers and there were countless examples from later wars of it happening time and again. I may not know much, Halladan, but I do know that what you are experiencing has been felt by countless soldiers.”

There was a soft snort.

“I mean it. Nor is there any shame in this. It is nothing to do with bravery, or strength… I know you know men who have changed since the War, and it may be you do not realise it, but they are probably suffering just as much as you. It may be they do not talk about the extent of it, just as you have not talked to anyone of what you are going through, but there will be many who have waking nightmares, feel utterly changed and unable to deal with life. For all I know, perhaps ellyn are just as affected by war. It would not surprise me in the least if many of them have been through this as well, though without asking I could not know for sure. You cannot ignore this, Halladan. You cannot pretend it is not happening. If you never let this out, it will turn to poison. It is too much, the pain too great for you to deal with by yourself.”

There was no reply.

“You should talk… to someone you trust implicitly, to someone whose judgement you trust, someone who knows you, who has seen battle just as you have. There are many, many that you know who would understand, Halladan, who may have even gone through this themselves, may still be going through it. You have gifted healers who have known you since a child, Halladan: Mithrandir, Elrond… Aragorn! You have to let them help you.”

That grim, resolute and stony expression was back on his face. Penny knew she was talking to a brick wall once more.

“There is no shame in asking for help, Halladan! This is as much an injury of the War as your leg! There is no shame in finally accepting that, as strong and resilient and capable as you are, even you have too great a burden to bear! The men I was talking about, they saw their friends, their brothers in arms killed – how much worse when it is family, loved ones…”

“Are you done?”

She glared at him but realised she had probably cut too near the bone just then.

“Yes, I am finished. Forgive me, Halladan. I do not doubt you have no wish to hear any of this, and it does not please me to say these things or to cause you further pain, but it has to be said, and I hope one day you may thank me for it. I say all this to explain I am not just inventing this from thin air, but basing it on some prior knowledge of my own. But, yes, I am done. However, I have one last thing I would ask of you. I want you to promise me something, to give me your word. I know I cannot get you to promise me that you will talk to someone, but will you at least consider it?”

“No.” The answer was quick, decisive, as if he had almost expected her to ask and had his answer ready.

“Halladan, what harm is there in at least thinking about it? Promise me you will think about it, even if you decide not to act upon it? Please.”

There was silence.

“Halladan! I mean it!”

“Very well,” he snapped, clearly exasperated, “if it will keep you quiet!”

“You swear it?”

“I give you my word I will consider it.”

Penny smiled softly. That was enough. Even if she knew perfectly well by ‘I will consider it’ he meant ‘I will consider it and reject it out of hand almost instantly’, the point was she had managed to lodge the seed of an idea in his head and hopefully one day…

They rode on in silence. After a few minutes, she glanced at him to find he was looking at her.

“What?”

“And you call me stubborn?”

He did not smile, but his face was not as angry or severe as she had feared it might be. It was almost as if he was trying to break the atmosphere a little. She smiled and shrugged apologetically. He shook his head at her, and then turned to look ahead once more.

Author's Note:

I think it only correct to point out that PTSD does not usually manifest itself with animated flashbacks. It can happen, but it is rare. Most commonly the sufferer slips into an alternate reality, with the flashback playing on a loop in front of them and seemingly in a state of something like catatonia to those around them. Halladan's flashbacks, when he has them, are usually like this. I am saying this thanks to a heartfelt and detailed review left by someone who is a PTSD sufferer. I feel it only fair to explain my process behind this scene, but shall not leave a giant author's note here. You can find the review and my reponse to it in the reviews to this chapter here on SoA.

Chapter 34 - “Us And Them”

Halladan had clearly taken Penny at her word when she had promised she would not mention it again, and though they rode in silence at first for quite some time, eventually the atmosphere between them eased a little. He began to point out flowers and plants to her, telling her if they were native to Gondor or if he knew them from back home, what properties (if any) they may have for healing or as a herb and what their names were in both Sindarin and Westron. Soon it was almost as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

Almost.

As they neared the city, they spotted a familiar group seated on the grass near the main thoroughfare, their horses grazing nearby.

“Ah, there you are!” Arvain called out to them. “Had a good ride?”

Halladan smiled and nodded and Penny followed his lead. She wondered how used he had got to lying, covering up or explaining away such incidents as the one she had just witnessed. She also wondered just how much those who knew him well realised how much he was struggling to cope and decided she would not be surprised if they could guess nearer than Halladan realised or was prepared to admit.

Mireth opened her mouth to say something, but Celebdor nudged her and she stayed silent. Penny guessed she had no doubt been about to ask how she was faring. It made her momentarily forget the past couple of hours and remember her own experience – up till now completely forgotten. She glanced a little nervously at the city walls, now looming nearby, as the others mounted their horses and then they slowly all set off together.

If anyone noticed that she seemed tense, they did not comment. If anything the chatter grew louder and the laughter increased as they came up to the gateway and entered the square. Indeed everyone seemed to be directing most of their chatter and jokes at Penny directly, so she was having to concentrate on following at least three different conversations at once and had little time to focus on where she was or what had so recently taken place there.

They did not stop at the First Circle stables but quite deliberately rode the horses up to the Sixth Circle so as to get through and away from the square as fast as possible. Halladan and Arvain made a point of riding between Penny and the side of the square with the alleyway where it had all occurred.

Halladan caught her glancing in its direction, though.

She forced a smile at him, but it was clear she was a little unnerved.

He smiled reassuringly back at her even as he called to Celebdor to tell Penny about the time they had gone riding when he was a boy and met wild boar in the woods. Celebdor laughed loudly and told Penny she would find this highly entertaining and Penny, distracted, turned to him with a grin. The next thing she knew they were out of the square and on their way up towards the Second Circle.

By the time they were passing through the gate to the Second Circle, Celebdor was laughing about how Halladan had been so terrified by the boar he had come across that Celebdor had found him up a tree with the boar at the base of the trunk.

“But I thought boar could be quite aggressive,” Penny was saying.

“Exactly so, Pen-ii!” Halladan replied. “See, Celebdor? And I was only a boy too!”

“You are the one who asked me to tell this story, Halladan, so allow me to relate it in my own fashion.”

Penny grinned and chuckled at Halladan. She could guess well enough why he had suddenly called for this story at that moment, even if it was at his own expense, indeed why they had all become so animated and desperate to distract her as they crossed the square. It had been most kind and thoughtful of them all.

“Ah, but I notice you failed to mention the moment when your horse shied, scared by the boar, and you slid off your horse’s rump and landed in the mud,” Lindir pointed out. “I heard it from good authority, namely Halbarad, that Halladan here laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the tree.”

“That is true,” Halladan said, beaming.

“Well, it was a rather large and demented boar, I will have you know,” Celebdor said, with feeling.

“But you were making fun of Halladan for having run from it just now!”

“I am an ellon, Pen-ii, I am allowed to be inconsistent in my storytelling if I so choose. It is one thing for a horse to be startled. It is another for a boy who, frankly, should know better, to run like frightened rabbit.”

The others laughed. Celebdor had lost the argument, and he knew it.

“Oh, be quiet,” he muttered.

“You should have seen him. Head to toe covered in mud,” Halladan was laughing at the memory, “I think that boar was killed as much over having ruined Celebdor’s tunic and dirtied his hair as for having chased me up a tree!”

Penny laughed loud as Arvain then started doing impressions of a distraught Celebdor pawing at his muddied hair.

Word had travelled ahead of them, of course. After all, how many ‘foreign women in the company of elves and Dunedain’ were there in Minas Tirith? So the moment word had come from the soldiers who had arrested the thief, everyone had guessed who his victim (and her rescuers) had been.

As soon as they came up from the gate to the Seventh Circle, they were spotted by a few people in the courtyard who called their names and came rushing over asking how Penny was, what had happened, why they had not come straight up to the Citadel and the like. Penny made her excuses and left as hurriedly as she could, Mireth and Eleniel going with her and leaving the males to field questions as to all that had gone on.

“Ai, I think I shall stay here in our chambers for the rest of the day,” Penny groaned as they walked through into the little room the three shared. “After all, if that reception is any indication of…”

She stopped, staring at her cot.

There, folded neatly at the foot of it, was a bolt of the red cloth she had been on her way to buy. She turned back to the two ellith, astonished. Mireth was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, we did not want you to miss out just because…”

“That is where you and Celebdor disappeared off to!” Eleniel laughed. “I wondered why you looked so very pleased with yourselves!”

Penny sat on her bed, taking the cloth in her hands. She was so touched by their gesture. It was a very thoughtful and generous thing for them to have done. At the same time it made her painfully aware that she had utterly failed to buy something for herself by herself as she had planned and looked forward to. She knew better than to offer to reimburse Mireth or Celebdor – they would be hurt and very likely insulted as well if she tried. If she had not been so ridiculous and indecisive, she scolded herself, if she had just gone ahead and bought it when she had first considered it, then none of it would have happened.

Then she thought of Halladan. She had to admit that, however alarming whatever had happened to her might have been, it paled in comparison with what he had been through, what he was still going through.

She was beginning to loathe this city: the bitches in the court, the rules and etiquette of Gondorian society that made her feel quite constrained at times, muggers in dark alleys, the evidence of war all round in the city and on the Pelennor, soldiers fighting to keep their sanity with what they had witnessed…

The sooner she could leave Gondor the better as far as she was concerned. But then, was Imladris really an option? How long would Elrond’s sons and Celeborn stay there?

“Pen-ii? Did I do the wrong thing?”

“What? Oh, no! No, not at all, Mireth, I am sorry.” She smiled. “Thank you. I am… very touched, truly, it was most kind of you to do this.” She laid the cloth to one side, stood to warmly embrace her friend.

That evening it was hard to avoid people coming up to her and saying they had heard what had happened, how dreadful it was and how fortunate she had not been harmed and that the others had been around to rescue her. Penny did make the point the man had been caught as he ran away, but to little avail.

An hour or two after the meal, Halladan and Arvain came to get her, telling her Aragorn had asked that she join them all at a gathering away from the general hubbub. Penny had been invited to such gatherings once or twice before, but never stayed long or enjoyed them overly much. For all there were people she knew there she would often get cornered by a few overbearing nobles intent on winning her favour so she could then put in a good word for them with the King or Queen.

This, however, turned out to indeed be a small affair and she knew everyone there, if not intimately, then relatively well. Elladan and Elrohir were sharing a joke with Gandalf and Legolas. Gimli was refilling Celeborn’s cup for him while regaling him with tales of battle and derring-do of his ancestors that Celeborn was matching nearly point for point, much to Galadriel’s amusement. Lindir and Faelon had joined Penny and the brothers as they had crossed the square and immediately fell into conversation with several other Dunedain standing near the door. Arwen and Elrond smiled and nodded at Penny as she entered the room, and she could just see Erestor and Glorfindel deep in conversation with Aragorn and Faramir. Sam and Frodo had just left, apparently. Pippin was on duty and so nowhere to be seen and Merry was back in the Hall singing a rather long and involved tale of Brandybucks, ale and japes that had his audience agog and rolling in the aisles. No doubt he would be along later if his adoring public could spare him.

Aragorn, spotting her, called her over to him and, with Faramir beside him, he formally apologised to her on behalf of the city.

“Rest assured the thief has been severely dealt with.”

Penny wondered what exactly that might mean.

“He may not have harmed you or even intended to do so, but he scared you very badly and certainly meant to do that. I will not have such people in my city.”

She thanked him and then asked after Hiluin and his wife.

Aragorn looked dark.

“She is still gravely ill. She may yet survive. We can but hope. As for Hiluin...” He trailed off and left his sentence unfinished.

“Is there nothing that can be done? Surely, with the likes of Mithrandir, Elrond and Galadriel…”

“We are doing all we can, Pen-ii, I assure you. You have to understand that sometimes a person has to want to be healed.”

She looked confused.

“He knows what he did,” Faramir explained quietly. “Or what he tried to do, what he will have done if his wife dies. The madness that came over him in those few minutes has long passed, and with its passing he now has the knowledge of what his grief led him to. It has nearly broken him completely.”

She said nothing, just nodded dumbly. Her expression said everything.

Aragorn was watching her intently. Somewhere in the background she was dimly aware of Gimli making his farewells for the evening and several Dunedain saying they had early starts in the morning. Faramir crossed over to them to bid them goodnight and as he did so Aragorn spoke.

“I take it such things are known in your society?” he murmured.

She nodded. “It is understood… It is not unknown for soldiers to suffer, or indeed for anyone who has experienced something as terrible as war.”

Aragorn said nothing. She looked at him.

“Is that not so? Perhaps, since you are all so used to fighting, to war, it is not the same.”

“Oh, I would not say that. Violent death is a terrible thing to witness, to be a party to. It changes you completely.”

Then Faramir was back and interrupting (with profuse apologies) but he needed to lead Aragorn away to discuss something with one of the Dunedain who was about to leave.

Slowly the evening progressed.

Arwen and her ladies-in-waiting left after a little, as did Faelon and Elladan who left together. One by one as the group grew smaller and smaller, Penny was eventually left with only those she knew well and who all knew her story. She could relax a little and not worry about what she said so much, and the excellent spiced wine was helping a little as well.

Penny found herself sitting and listening to Gandalf and Aragorn relating old tales of when Aragorn had first come to Minas Tirith many years ago as a young man.

“I gather Lord Denethor was not too enamoured of ‘Thorongil.’”

Aragorn smiled grimly. “You could say that. I think he guessed at who I was, or my lineage at least. I was a threat.”

“And he never saw me as anything other than meddlesome,” Gandalf chipped in.

“Oh, he was more shrewd than that, I dare say,” Penny replied. “He would have known if the heir to the Throne had appeared in Minas Tirith there could only be one person pulling the strings in the background.”

“Indeed, Pen-ii?” Aragorn seemed amused. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Tell me, how are you finding Minas Tirith? Is it to your liking? Will you stay with us, do you think?”

“Oh, well, I… er…”

Gandalf’s look was knowing. “I think Lady Pen-ii still finds things a little… difficult. Would that be a fair assessment?”

“Indeed I think it would.”

Penny turned to find Halladan standing near her.

“Well, ‘difficult’ is perhaps a rather strong word to use…”

Penny was floundering, not wanting to really tell the King of Gondor and Arnor to his face quite what she thought of half of his kingdom.

“I do not think one ever wholly gets used to the scars of war,” Aragorn said in a low voice. “I think there are some things that we all find difficult, no matter how many times we see them.”

He looked away from Penny as he said this, his gaze brushing over Halladan as if by mere accident as he spoke, and finally looking out through the open door to the balcony to his right and the night sky beyond.

“I would not dare to presume that whatever discomfort I may feel is anything like that for those who have known battle, your Majesty.”

Penny’s voice was also quiet as she stared down into her cup, but she did not doubt for an instant Halladan could hear her.

“I forget you have never known war,” Aragorn replied, turning back to her. “You are most fortunate.”

“But her people have,” Gandalf said. “Remember she said to us once how there were things she might tell us but it might be better we never knew?”

“My father mentioned that.” Arvain had come to join his brother, moving a chair beside Gandalf and insisting his brother take it while he stood behind him. “I find it hard to believe, Pen-ii.”

She said nothing. She had given Halladan some indication of the little she had studied on such matters while receiving her relatively ordinary secondary education, and she had no desire to…

“Better we sail West than stay to see what would become of Men,” Celeborn was saying. “That is what she said to us in Lothlorien.”

“Not for a very long time,” Penny muttered hurriedly. “And besides, enough horrors have happened even in your own histories for you to know the sorts of things evil can drive people to commit.”

“I find it hard to believe anything could compare with the battles some of us have seen, though I take your word, Pen-ii.” Elrond, ever gentle and wise in tone, had added his voice to the mix, indeed it seemed as if every other conversation was stopping so the remaining few could join in on this one.

“Oh, I think Pen-ii shows some level of understanding,” Aragorn replied. “Her spirited defence of Hiluin and all soldiers of war the other day indicated that…”

“With all due respect, Estel, and to you, Pen-ii, without having been present in battle herself, how could Pen-ii truly know the bitter truth of such…?”

“Do you think I do not read, Lindir?” It had come out slightly sharper than she had intended. “Forgive me, Lindir, but really you have no idea about my time, about how very different it is from this.”

“Oh, I think some of us understand better than you might believe.”

She looked at Gandalf.

“Different?” Lindir was sounding a little confused and Penny suddenly wondered just how much spiced wine he had had. “But I thought it was being argued that you, or those in your society, had known war like ours or just as bad. If it was different, then…”

“I mean, Lindir, that war on the scale that has been seen even in living memory in my time is something that, with all due respect to everyone present, I do not think any of you have known. Indeed I think it would be incomprehensible to you. There was a time, not even a hundred years before my own, when war was still seen as a glorious, noble thing. Terrible, horrible, and yet something in which there was still a nobility, an honour, a pride.”

There were murmurs of agreement round the room.

“Are you saying that is no longer the case?” Aragorn seemed as surprised as he was curious.

“We know too much. We have seen too much. As a society, I mean.”

She hesitated, glanced round at them. Only Galadriel hung back, watching, but everyone else had taken a seat or was standing nearby.

“It is one thing, perhaps, when you fight a known, clear evil, when you have a purpose, when there is no question that your enemy must be stopped at all costs…”

She paused again for a moment.

“Around that time, there was a war. They thought it would be the war to end all wars because it was huge, so terrible… and so many men, young men, some barely more than boys… so many died that it changed everything. No one had seen battle on this scale before. No one had known horror like this. What they went through, what those men went through… Nothing was the same after that, nothing.”

Suddenly the atmosphere was changed – quiet, serious and expectant. Penny realised she had little choice but to explain further. She really had not wanted to talk about such things.

“It lasted four years and during that time an entire generation of young men were lost from many different countries and people – every family had at least one unmarried woman. All those men dead, and the leaders…” She gave a disgusted snort. Eyebrows were raised and glances exchanged. “Your Majesty, you led your men from the front, as have any here who has had to be in charge of any front, any attack, or any defence, I do not doubt.”

“But of course.” Aragorn was quick to respond, as if that was patently obvious that anyone with soldiers under his charge would behave in such a fashion. Then his brows furrowed with incredulity. “What are you saying, Pen-ii?”

“The generals sat several miles away from the front line sending young men to their deaths in what they knew would be a hopeless exercise time and again, month after month.”

There were gasps and cries of indignation.

“There were many times the men knew what they were doing was certain suicide and yet…”

“How many? Do you know?”

She looked at Gandalf and shook her head.

“It is many years since I read about this. I cannot remember exact numbers. But it was a huge number. Not thousands or tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands.”

Eyes were wide around the room now.

She looked at Erestor. “What is the word for a thousand thousand?”

“One million,” Erestor said slowly. He was looking at her in astonishment.

“Thank you. It was at least eight million. Not including those who were not soldiers.”

There was a stunned silence.

Penny kept on talking.

“And of course twenty years later there was an even greater and more terrible war. My great-grandfather fought in that. Many, many more were killed in that war.”

“But how is that even possible?” Celeborn looked appalled.

“There are many more people then than now…”

“No, no, I mean the numbers… in just four years…”

“Many countries were involved. It was a war that took place over a huge area. Not only that but… well, the fighting was not the same as what you have now.”

She grew hesitant and looked at Gandalf.

“I said I would not tell you this sort of thing…”

”We are all warriors in our own way. Every one of us here, Pen-ii. You can speak freely.”

So she explained how, if they could imagine something that might shoot arrows at the rate of several hundred a minute, that such a thing could be held by one or two men and several at once in a line could mow down row upon row of advancing troops.

“They wore no armour, you see,” she explained. “Other than a metal hat.”

There were muttered oaths, then, glances exchanged, grim looks, and, at last, some understanding of what she had been so wary to explain.

She described how something akin to Saruman’s exploding powder was put into metal tubes and then thrown great distances into the ranks of men. She did not need to finish her explanation of the devastating effect of such a contraption: every warrior there could fill the rest from his own imagination and experience. She did not dare look at Halladan as he stood abruptly and walked over to the door to stare out into the night sky.

She tried to explain what a shock this War had been to her society, how apocalyptic it had seemed, how it had changed everything forever. The numbers of dead, the conditions in which they had lived, the hopelessness of each endeavour, the deadly, murderous stalemate and futile sacrifices day after day…

“The landscape became defiled, stripped of vegetation with the explosions and fires. There was nothing but bare earth and in winter it became a sea of mud or frozen solid. In some battles tens of thousands just drowned in the mud,” she said simply. “Eru help you if you were wounded or tripped – you had no chance.”

She glanced round to see their faces taut with, if not disbelief, then shock, horror and a complete inability to express the range of emotions running through them.

She ground to a halt then. She felt she had made her point even without describing life in the trenches with the cold, the rats, the mud, the camaraderie broken only by slaughter or disease, or else the horror of no man’s land with the bodies, the filth, the rotting corpses left unburied or exposed with every blast of a shell.

She caught Galadriel’s eye and as she did so, the elleth walked towards her, holding her gaze all the while. She did not remember a question being asked, but she could not stop herself from filling in the gaps, all the things she had left unsaid. She heard Galadriel gasp and saw her eyes fill with tears.

“But such a thing… It is intolerable.”

Even Halladan turned to look as Galadriel turned back to face the others, her face stricken with grief by what she had seen in Penny’s mind. She looked up at her husband.

“She was right. It is best we never see such things.”

Celeborn stepped over to her quickly, wrapped his arms about her and kissed her brow.

“But why, Pen-ii? For what reason? What cause?”

“I cannot answer you, Gandalf. It is too long, too complicated, too meaningless. Such are rulers and countries with their petty squabbles and arrogance. Man’s inhumanity to man. It is a phrase in my tongue. Long years they fought, and all those men dead, sometimes only to move forward by one mile or less. It was hopeless – no way for either side to win and yet they fought on and on till they could fight no more.”

“And I take it many suffered as Hiluin suffers now?”

It was Aragorn who asked. Penny studiously avoided looking in Halladan’s direction, though she knew perfectly well he was looking straight at her.

“Many. Many went mad in battle and were killed as cowards by their own…”

There were roars of outrage at that.

“… Their illness was not understood, and it was not till long years afterwards that such men were treated with anything like compassion or understanding. Since that war there have been many brutal, terrible things committed. The last hundred years are said to have been the bloodiest ever known in human history. I do not doubt that to be true.”

To say she had killed the mood would be an understatement. That said, she had not particularly wanted to talk about such things, but she had been left with little choice. She had told them they would not like to hear it and they had not. They did better understand her level of knowledge of such things, even if she had not experienced them herself first hand.

She made her excuses pretty quickly and left as fast as was decent after that. She briefly considered going out onto the balcony where she knew Halladan was standing alone, staring out onto the dark city below. She felt she should apologise, should explain that she had not intended to bring the subject up. Then she thought it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie, and she let Arvain walk her to her door without bothering his brother.

That night her sleep was fitful. She had several strange and vivid dreams, the worst being one where her brother and mother were burying her, but the casket was see-through and she could see them clearly through its sides. She was screaming, waving, shouting, desperately trying to make it clear she was not dead, that they must not bury her, but they could not hear her. As she was lowered into the ground, the first thud of the earth being shovelled on top of the coffin, she awoke with a start and her heart pounding.

Eleniel stirred, and rolled over on her cot to look at her questioningly. Penny had risen from the bed and was reaching for a dress.

“I cannot sleep. I am going for some air.”

Eleniel sat up. “Let me keep you company…”

“No, no. Please. You rest, Eleniel, I shall be fine. I will go for a wander in the courtyard and return shortly.”

Eleniel, reassured, lay back down again. Penny slipped on a dress and shoes and headed outside.

What time it was, she had no way of knowing. She tried to gauge from the moon, but the attempts the elves had made to teach her such things had not really sunk in. It had to be late if Mireth and Eleniel were resting, though. As she wandered up to the courtyard and saw it was empty of all but the occasional guard crossing it, she knew it was probably well into the early hours.

She had brought a light shawl with her – one of Eleniel’s – since it was a clear night and cooler than might be expected given it was high summer, and especially up here in the highest Circle with the slight breeze. She wrapped it around herself and wandered up to one of the benches near the fountain and white tree in the centre of the square.

She felt tired but too awake, too alert. She had no particular desire to try and sleep if she was to have another dream like that again. She would just sit here for a while, in the quiet darkness, admiring the bright stars in the sky, the sound of the water from the fountain. It was peaceful. Hopefully after a little while she could wander back to her chambers and have some restful sleep for whatever remained of the night.

“Pen-ii?”

She jumped. There was a low chuckle from behind her.

“Forgive me, Pen-ii, I did not mean to startle you.”

“Halladan, do not do that! You are as bad as an elf!”

He laughed softly. “I think I might take that as a compliment, only you must have been lost deep in your thoughts indeed to not hear my limping shuffle and my stick tapping on the stones.”

Something about the way he said it made her look at him as he came to sit next to her.

“Your leg will heal, Halladan. You said so yourself.”

“Perhaps. It will never be quite what it was, I suspect.” He rubbed at it slightly, wincing a little.

“It hurts you?”

“Aches a little at times. I am meant to rub it, knead it a little every now and then. I forget and then get a telling off from the healers.” He smiled ruefully.

“I shall remind you, in that case.”

“Ai, not you also!”

“Halladan, if you cannot remember for yourself…”

He smiled and shook his head, lifting his hands slightly in a half-shrug as if to say ‘there is no arguing with you.’

“It is for your own good, you know!” She was grinning.

“I know, I know!” He chuckled and there was a few more minutes’ silence.

“You cannot sleep?”

He shook his head. “You?”

“Same. I kept dreaming of my family. I decided I needed some air.”

Halladan was pulling out his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. He began to fill the bowl.

“I am here most nights,” he said.

She looked at him. “You never did answer my question of today, about whether you were sleeping well or not.”

He said nothing for a minute or so, just carried on pushing down the tobacco in the pipe bowl. Then he carefully put the pouch away, lit the pipe and took a few sucks on it as he looked ahead towards the Citadel and the mountains.

“Well, now you have your answer,” he said at last.

She had no idea what to say, but even as she searched for the words he threw her a quick sideways glance, saw her expression and cut her off before she could speak.

“Oh, I am no different from many, Pen-ii. There are times I meet fellows out here in the early hours, taking some air, avoiding sleep just like myself. Admittedly, there were a few more when the Rohirrim were still here and the men from Dol Amroth, but still…”

There was so much she could say, wanted to say, indeed, but she held her tongue. For once in her life, Penny let her head hold sway and Halladan seemed to appreciate it. They sat in companionable silence, Halladan smoking his pipe and Penny looking up at the stars. Occasionally she would try and show off what little she had managed to learn from the elves, pointing out a constellation or a star and trying to remember its name. A few she got right. Many she got wrong, though, and Halladan would correct her with an amused smile.

Eventually, his pipe finished and with the first pale light of dawn showing in the East, Halladan suggested she try and get some rest. They walked slowly to her lodgings but as they reached the door, Penny turned to him.

“Halladan? I know I said I would not mention it, and I would not, except…”

Halladan gave a heavy sigh and his face fell. “I had wondered if it would be too much to hope for.”

“That is not fair, Halladan. I meant what I said to you. I gave you my word, and I will stand by that. I only wanted to say… well… it occurred to me that perhaps I had been the one to… I mean, I just wanted to ask you to forgive me, that was all.”

Halladan seemed confused.

“We only stopped where we did because I asked if we could, and just before you… I had just pointed out to you that you had mentioned Hirvell to me. If I was the cause of what happened… I am so very sorry, Halladan, please forgive me.”

Halladan looked at her for a moment, but his expression was unreadable in the darkness.

“There is nothing to forgive, Pen-ii. I should have recognised where we were sooner, and it could just as easily have… happened elsewhere.” There was a strain in his tone of voice that showed how hard it was for him to talk about it even in such oblique terms. “Till this moment it did not even occur to me that you could be in any way to blame. I still do not think so, indeed I know so. Rather, I should apologise to you. I do not doubt it was frightening for you.”

“A little at first, perhaps… before I understood what was happening. It was distressing more than frightening, if I am honest.”

“I have little control… It is hard to…” He was finding difficulty expressing himself, but the sense of frustration and self-reproach were clear in his tone.

“I understand, Halladan.” She could guess it must be hard for him to discuss this.

He nodded, as if thanking her for allowing him to leave much unsaid.

“I thank you for your concern, and for your apology, but there really is no need.” He smiled. “Now go and rest.”

“And you? Will you take some rest?”

“No. No, I will go and watch the dawn rise over the mountains.”

As she watched him heading off back up the alley towards the courtyard she wondered if, as he watched the sun rise over the mountains of Mordor, he would look to the north-west corner of the mountain chain and think of his brother.

She suspected he very probably would.

The days fell back into the easy routine of before. When she was not in the library (or at her Westron lessons, which continued apace), then she was often at Meresel’s house which was a large, grand building in the Sixth Circle. Her children were delightful, but Penny quickly learnt that it raised eyebrows amongst the servants if you rolled on the floor while playing with a toddler. Meresel laughed and told Penny not to mind them, but Penny could tell that even she found Penny’s behaviour a little too free at times.

She learnt a few children’s rhymes though, and discovered the Gondorian equivalent of ‘Ten Green Bottles Sitting On The Wall’ was ‘Ten Milk Churns on the Drayman’s Cart.’ However, Meresel’s eldest son (who had a ten-year-old cousin who clearly taught him much) whispered that there was another version that ran ‘Ten Dead Orcs on a Soldier’s Spear’ with various graphic variations. Penny agreed that, yes, it was indeed a much better version and promised that, no, she would not tell his mother he knew it.

However, there were various factors that had taken the edge off Penny’s enjoyment of the city, not least of which was the fact that she was studiously avoiding having to go down to the First Circle or anywhere near the main city square for the time being. The oppressive feeling of the city’s unfamiliar familiarity increased daily, as did the sense that she was ever so slightly out of kilter with the court and Gondorian life in general. Meresel went out of her way to make Penny feel welcome, and Arwen insisted she spend much time with the ladies of the court, but she could never wholly relax or be herself the way she could with the elves or even the Dunedain. She was constantly aware there was always one lady or other with a critical look in their eye, sniffing disdainfully at her.

Not only that, though.

The episode with Halladan had done much to shake her, to remind her of the cost of war and the guilt she felt that would not leave her completely. She suspected it likely never would for as long as she remained in Gondor and in Minas Tirith especially. As for things between the two of them, if Penny had been concerned that it would make things awkward, she need not have worried. Halladan seemed to accept her word that she would not refer to it, and she did not after that one time, so as the days went by his trust in her was confirmed.

She was concerned, though. Now she knew what he was suffering she could see things she had either not noticed before, or had not been aware of their significance. He often looked tired through lack of decent sleep, and he could sometimes be overly sharp in response to someone, though it was rare.

She could also see both Faelon and Arvain had a watchful concern for him. Everyone seemed to skirt round him, almost as if waiting, hoping he might let them in but allowing him the space to do whatever he felt was best in the meantime. However, Penny was not convinced that strategy was working, not if what she had witnessed on the Pelennor was anything to go by.

No one remarked on the fact that the two seemed to spend their evenings together quite a bit. He provided her with a good excuse to avoid the company when she felt she could not cope with it, but also Penny seemed to be good at coaxing Halladan from his morose solitude and getting him to be a little bit more sociable.

Those times when she got bullying and insistent about him coming in from the courtyard (usually under the pretext that she would like to have a dance and he needed to exercise that leg of his), Halladan would give her a look that told her in no uncertain terms that, given what she now knew, she should know better than to push it. She would just ignore him, though, because she was determined, rightly or wrongly, that anything that would keep his mind off things might help. For whatever reason, he rarely offered much resistance or put his foot down. Perhaps something in Halladan was trying to make up for having allowed her to be witness to his trauma, or perhaps he was even trying to prove to her that he really was not the wreck she might now imagine him to be. Thus he allowed her to drag him off for a dance or to be sociable on a slightly more regular basis than he might have liked in normal circumstances. Arvain would laugh and encourage her, and Faelon would quite deliberately make a grab for Halladan’s tankard with a wide grin saying he would hold it for him, so Halladan was left with no choice.

“I would prefer…” he would hiss at her through clenched teeth.

“I know you would, but this will keep us both busy for a while.”

And she would not look at him as she said this for fear his stern look might make her hesitate. Instead she would wait until they were in position and the music already starting. Only then would she risk a smile and he would shake his head at her and chuckle.

Word had come from Rohan some time before as to when Eomer was due to arrive. Messengers had been sent south to Prince Imrahil at the same time since he had made it clear he wished to honour King Theoden and join the funeral party at such time as it left Minas Tirith.

Two days after the incident on the Pelennor, Penny noticed two blond nobles in Rohirric dress sitting with Faelon and Elladan at lunch. Several Gondorians or Dunedain stopped to greet them, and it was clear these two had fought side by side with many in the room. They had come with the news that Eomer was indeed on his way, as planned, and would arrive within three days with an entire eored of men to collect their fallen King.

It would not be long before they set off, then, back to Rohan, and Penny could tell there was a level of both excitement and sadness building. The hobbits were talking a lot more of home and how much they missed it (conversations that Penny studiously avoided, if she could), and the elves spoke of how their work was done in Gondor and that it would heal and become great once more. The Gondorian nobles were beginning to voice their thoughts on how much the elves would be missed, and how fortunate they felt they had been to have been in the presence of so many. The only ones who said nothing were the Dunedain, though Penny did not doubt they longed to return home just as much as the hobbits did. They would leave dead friends behind them, though, and that would be a hard moment indeed.

It was late afternoon the following day. Penny had just finished tea with the hobbits and was on her way back out to the main square, ambling down the corridors with Eleniel, Legolas and Gandalf who had all been at the meal. As they passed through a doorway out into the open, Gandalf called Penny’s name and she turned to find him hanging back a little.

“Would you care to join me for a little walk?” he asked as he slowly made his way out of the doorway.

“But of course.”

Gandalf smiled, nodded and turned right, heading off towards the royal chambers at a slow walking pace.

They chatted inconsequentially about nothing terribly much as they made their way to the group of buildings to the back of the Citadel. Indeed it was so inconsequential that Penny began to feel a little nervous. It was as if Gandalf were very deliberately trying to make it seem as if nothing of any import whatsoever was about to be discussed, which of course only made Penny think that that was exactly what was going to happen.

And she reckoned she could probably guess what the subject would be when he finally got round to broaching it.

Eventually, Gandalf led her to a small courtyard that was enclosed only on three sides, the fourth side being the outer wall with an embrasure and a seat in the middle.

“Come, let us sit.”

He gestured to the stone seat and Penny could see the deep slit in the wall looked out over the south of the city and the Pelennor.

“Well, now,” Gandalf said at last. “I thought perhaps it was time we had a little talk. You have been in the city some time now, and while I realise you are still finding some aspects of life here difficult, it is less raw or distressing than it was. Would that be a fair assessment?”

“Yes.”

She tried not to sound worried. She was really not sure she wanted this conversation. Especially not if it was going where she thought it was going.

“Oh, I apologise for springing this on you.” He smiled. “You must not think too unkindly of me. Best I bring it up like this rather than give you advance warning and let you worry and squirrel your way out of it, no?” The smile broadened.

“Mithrandir, I am really not sure that I…”

“I understand your fears. Really, I do. For all that you are desperate for answers, the fear of what those answers might be is probably greater than your curiosity. I suspect that you may never have come to me to discuss this if I had left it in your hands.”

Penny suspected he was probably right.

He sighed. “Let me be frank, Pen-ii. I have no idea how you came here, or why it occurred.”

Penny had not expected him to come to the point quite so abruptly. There was a brief silence.

“Oh.”

She was not sure why she felt so disappointed. After all, if he had known he would have told her long ago, and she had not really expected him to know. Even so…

“It is the work of a power far greater than even I can fathom. It may be there is a purpose behind it. Who can say? I can guess at some who might better understand or conjecture, but they are not here to aid us, nor can I ask them directly. All I can tell you is that I do not know, nor is it for me to know. It may be there is something you would do or have done already. It may be there is something that will come about many years from now as a consequence of your being here. It may be there is no reason for it at all.”

Penny’s pulse was beginning to race as she waited for what she now knew was coming.

“Will you stay here in Arda? Ah, now there is a question indeed. You remember how when I first met you it seemed as if you were at once familiar to me and yet so very, very different?”

Penny nodded.

“Well, now I meet you once again here in Gondor and you are changed. I know Galadriel said as much to you, and it is plain for those with wisdom to see it. I can sense it very clearly. There will always be something about you that is at one remove from this place, but you are not so strangely different any more.” He looked at her. “You are where you should be, Pen-ii. You belong.”

Penny was trying not to think about the implications in that phrase.

“The Lady Galadriel said I was ‘home.’”

Gandalf nodded. “And indeed you are. I cannot explain it. I can only tell you what I know to be true. Will that situation change? Perhaps. … No, no, Pen-ii, do not get upset. It is best to be honest, no?”

Penny’s face had fallen and a sound of disappointment had escaped her before she could stop it.

“As I was about to say, however, my instincts tell me it is unlikely. I shall not say it is impossible, but you are too rooted, too at one with your surroundings for me to think it will happen. As I said before, this is where you are meant to be, for all that seems so very strange. You once seemed very distant to me, as if you had still so much of you at some far remove from me, lost in mists that even I could not penetrate. That is not the case now. You are here and all is as it should be. I can sense that very clearly and absolutely.”

Penny’s mind was a whirl. She had no idea what to make of all this. These were answers, and yet they were not. Was this certainty? Or the nearest she would get to it? Dare she hope?

Gandalf took her hand, and laid his other hand gently on her cheek, tilting her head upwards so she looked into his eyes.

“You must not fear, Pen-ii. Live your life. You cannot worry about things that may never come to pass. I cannot tell you with any certainty what the future may bring, though I have some insight. What you fear will not come to pass, of that I am as sure as I can be. I hope I am never proved wrong, for you have made good friends here, and I, and others who know you well, think you are perhaps happier here than you ever were before. Is that not the case?”

She nodded. She felt so desperately guilty about it, about wanting to stay, about not wanting to return to her family…

“There is no easy path in life. Sometimes you make hard choices in the face of fear. But know this, Pen-ii, let this be an advice from one who, if I may be so bold, has some wisdom to impart and has some inkling of what tomorrow may bring: do not let fear prevent you from choosing happiness. You are home. Remember that.”

What was he telling her?

“You can only live your life as if you are here to stay for the rest of your days.”

“That is what I have been doing. I think I would have gone insane otherwise.”

“Indeed. Exactly so. I am less worried than I was in Imladris, however. You are more part of this world now than you ever were then. I think there is little danger of your returning now, indeed I am almost certain there is none.”

Was it so very wrong of her to feel a surge of happiness at those words?

“I cannot tell you with sure knowledge, only from my instinct and supposition. No matter if I am wrong or right, you must live here as if that is the case. You must grieve the loss of your family and you must accept your new life here. The way is forward, not back.”

Grieve the loss of her family? Yes, that was true. She had set no time aside for such a thing, it had almost been as if she was on extended holiday, as if one day even if years passed she might see them once more…

A tear spilled over onto one cheek. A gnarled thumb stroked it away.

“Your mother would be proud if she could see you now, how you have changed and grown. Of that I am certain.”

Several more tears trickled down and she took deep breaths, trying to maintain her composure.

She felt her hand gently squeezed in his.

“Ah, Pen-ii, I know what it is to be far from home and from those you love.”

“Do you remember it? I mean, is it very clear to you?”

The hand at her face fell slowly to his lap and he looked out towards the distant Anduin as he spoke.

“I do remember it. Better now than I did when I was still ‘The Grey’. I yearn to return even though I know not if my fate is to remain in Valinor or move on even further still. My task here is complete at long last. Once you have known such beauty, such light, your heart is always restless to return. It never leaves you.”

“And yet some choose to stay away. If you feel such a thing, surely Sauron must have done also? Saruman?”

“You have to want what that beauty and light stands for. It is easy, perhaps, to allow other desires to become greater in your heart, carry more weight, seem truer and of more worth, however misguided. Besides, once a path is trodden it is difficult to turn back. It is easier to continue, easier to fear that there is no hope of return even if that is not the case.”

“There is one story that says Saruman nearly joined you.”

Gandalf turned his head to look down at her, eyebrows furrowed and his gaze curious and surprised.

“The Nazgul came to his door while you were on the tower. In one version of the tale he immediately realised his folly, rushed to speak to you, to ask forgiveness but it was too late. He arrived in time to see you fly away. Till they arrived he had not fully appreciated the danger he had put himself in by setting himself in opposition to Sauron as a rival.”

“I see.”

There was a rather pregnant pause and then…

“Is there anything else you wish to tell me, Pen-ii?”

What the…?!

“N-no. Why do you…?”

“You are sure?”

“Gandalf, I…”

Her head had dropped. She was not looking at him.

“I hope you have good reasons, Pen-ii. The War is over. Sauron is fallen.”

‘Yes, but the War is not over, is it?’ she thought. ‘And there is still stuff to happen and if I tell you what he is capable of, what he has done, what he plans to do, would you believe me? Would you kill him on the strength of that alone? Could you allow the people, the place you love so dearly to suffer so much? I doubt it. And yet could you kill him yourself in Grima’s place? In cold blood? Could Elrond or Galadriel or any of you?’

She glanced up at him briefly to find his gaze was piercing, possibly even a little knowing. Had he guessed? Why else ask at the mention of Saruman? Why now?

Gandalf nodded slowly, as if to himself more than anything.

“Very well, Pen-ii. I would ask you to think long and hard over anything you keep back. I know you know how serious a business this is.”

“It is not a decision I make lightly, Gandalf. Even now I worry and wonder, and I may yet speak to you or someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Penny said nothing. She could not explain that she felt it unwise to speak to those who would come face to face with Saruman himself on the journey north, those who would, in their wisdom, kindness and magnanimity let him go free rather than slay him like the dog he was. After all, had he not helped them (as they understood it) in the past? Had he not aided them in the fight against Sauron to remove him from Dol Guldur? The full extent of Saruman’s malice was even yet not completely understood. Possibly not until the true Elendilmir was discovered by Aragorn hidden away in Orthanc would it to be realised just how far Saruman had fallen and how long ago, how utterly lost and unredeemable his black heart now was.

As Penny had said: the story of Saruman changing his mind in fear was only one version and may not even be true for all she knew.

Gandalf quickly brushed the moment aside, repeating all the things he had said to her previously: that she must think of herself as staying in Middle-earth. Even if he could not confirm that that absolutely was the case, it made no difference to Penny: it was almost the best answer she could have hoped for.

It did not sink in at first. In many ways it changed nothing since, as she had said to Gandalf, she had had to train herself into thinking as if she was here to stay many months ago or else lose her marbles completely.

And yet…

And yet it changed so much. She could relax, she could sit back, she could make plans…

She could finally accept both her situation and her loss.

As they walked back out to the courtyard they were silent, a thousand thoughts cramming in on her. When they reached the open space she could see several friends milling around, filling the small amount of time there would be till supper with chatting, singing and laughter. She felt overwhelmed, suddenly, as if she had a desperate need to be alone to try and process what she had been told.

“Go. Go to your chambers,” Gandalf said quietly, even as he spotted Lindir waving at them and calling them over. “I shall fend them off for you.” And he smiled and she knew he had forgiven her her reticence about the Saruman business, though she still worried she was making the wrong decision.

“Thank you.”

She hurried off.

As she rounded the corner to the alleyway down to their lodgings, she met Celebdor, Mireth, Halladan and Faelon on their way to the square. She murmured apologies and said she needed to get some rest, that she would see them a little later. They smiled, nodded and moved away, as did she, but Halladan hesitated.

“Is anything amiss?”

“What? No.”

“Only you seem… I am not sure, a little agitated, a little… well, not distressed exactly…”

She looked down, torn between her happiness and her sadness.

“Pen-ii?” He took a step towards her. “Pen-ii, what is it?”

“It is nothing. Really. I… I just need to be alone a while.” She looked up at him. “I am quite well, I assure you. I… I just spoke to Gandalf and he gave me news I have both longed and feared to hear. I am a little bewildered. I need time to think over what he has told me, to accept it and come to terms with it. Forgive me, Halladan… I will speak to you later about it.”

“But of course.” He smiled sympathetically. “I quite understand.”

She made to leave.

“I only hope it was good news?”

She turned, walking backwards even as she spoke. “Yes. Yes, it was. Or at least… No, it was. Yes, it was good news.”

He smiled and she smiled back, if a little hesitantly. She turned once more, walking quickly to the door to her lodgings.

She did not know it, but Halladan remained standing at the top of the alleyway watching her all the while.

Author’s Notes:

There is some debate over whether when Gandalf was ‘sent back’ it was only temporarily to finish the job and then return to Eru Himself, or whether he was truly ‘reincarnated’ (which is not quite the right word, I know) and would return to Valinor to live as Olorin as he had always done. For myself, I think the wording implies that he would not stay in Valinor but would move on, but I have left it open here. I think Gandalf knows what the answer is, even if he says he is not sure.

Re. WWI: the figures for the total dead of soldiers taken from as reliable a source as I could find, but such things are never wholly accurate and you will find different numbers according to where you look. Taking into account every country that fought on both sides, the total of combatants who died is thought to be around 9 million.

The details of Saruman – the Nazgul visiting him on their way North to the Shire and him having found the bones of Isildur (and thus the true Elendilmir as well as the chain and locket in which Isildur carried The Ring) – are to be found in Unfinished Tales. The Elendilmir was a jewel worn on a band that was the sign of Kingship. It was, obviously, worn by Isildur and thus still on his body when he died and so was lost. A copy was made to replace it and it was that copy which Aragorn wore until he found the original in Orthanc.

My thanks to everyone for the amount of comment and feedback the last chapter generated, especially from those with personal experience of PTSD. *hugs you all* Apologies for the time this chapter has taken to get up.

Chapter 35 - “The Tangling of the Web”

For a long while, Penny stood at the window in her room, staring south unseeingly, thinking about everything and nothing.

“Right, madam,” she was muttering to herself. “You need to start making decisions and plans.”

But that was easier said than done, and she was no nearer any kind of conclusion even when Eleniel and Mireth finally arrived to drag her off to supper.

After the meal Halladan made a point of, for once, refusing to allow her to drag him off for a dance and insisted they go outside to talk. Arvain came with them and she told them both what Gandalf had said.

“But that is wonderful!” Arvain grinned, hugging her impulsively.

“Argh! Put me down, you fool!” She was laughing as he spun her round.

Halladan was smiling broadly. “It puts your mind at rest at least.”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” she replied, trying to smooth her skirts and catch her breath now Arvain had stopped swinging her round like the proverbial cat. “Gandalf was not speaking in certainties, though. There is always that slim possibility…”

“If Mithrandir says he is as sure as he can be that something will not occur, then trust me, Pen-ii, it will not occur. He is not someone to say such things lightly.”

“My brother has a point,” Halladan agreed.

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

“Ai, do I want to know?”

“Well, you could promise me a dance or two for a start, Pen-ii. That and I feel sure I could persuade Aragorn to open a keg of Rohirric ale…”

“Oh, no, you don’t! I am not going near that stuff ever again!”

The brothers laughed loud.

“Yes, we heard all about that,” Arvain chortled. “I have to say for someone who supposedly did not like to dance, you apparently surpassed yourself.”

“Oh, shush.”

Halladan was chuckling madly as he filled his pipe.

“Of course, I suppose this should make deciding where I am to stay slightly easier,” Penny said, plonking herself on the bench beside Halladan. “I am not sure that it does, though.”

“Well, you have a while to decide, do you not?” Arvain came to sit on the other side of his brother. “After all there will be the journey to Rohan, and even then you could possibly leave the decision until the Gap of Rohan, which is as far as King Elessar intends us to travel with you all.”

Penny blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“King Elessar. He will not be travelling all the way to the North just yet. There is too much to be done here for now…”

“No, no, you said ‘us’.”

“Yes, many of the Dunedain are staying here for as long as Aragorn needs us,” Halladan explained.

“The Dunedain are not going North!” Penny looked at them both for a moment in astonishment. “But I had assumed… I mean…”

Halladan and Arvain exchanged the briefest of glances.

“Some of us will be. Faelon, for example, is riding with the elves, but most will be staying here for at least another month or so. We left men back home protecting our own. Not all of us could be reached in time to ride south, after all.” Halladan was sounding relatively breezy as he spoke. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” she replied, attempting to match Halladan’s tone, but just slightly too hurried to be completely sincere. “I had just thought, what with you having been here as long as you have already, that was all.” She smiled.

“Does it say in your stories that we return North now?”

Halladan kicked his brother in the ankle and glared at him.

“No. I mean it says nothing. Little is said or known about the Dunedain. I have told you that.” She tried smiling again and waved her hand noncommittally. “I had just misunderstood.”

She was trying to ignore her brain which was screaming at her that if the Dunedain were not there any time soon, then who was going to stop who knew what rampaging all over Eriador as it came up the Greenway from Orthanc? But then perhaps that was the point, perhaps that was how it had happened?

“Ah, there you are!” It was Lindir coming down the stairs from the Hall towards them. “A little bird tells me that you had some good news today, Pen-ii. How about a dance to celebrate?”

“I was just suggesting the same thing,” Arvain laughed.

“Ah, well, in that case it has to be a good idea.” Lindir grinned, holding out his hand.

Penny was grateful for the opportunity to escape.

“But of course! Will I see you both inside?”

“Yes, yes, we will be there presently.” Halladan replied cheerily. He waved his pipe at her. “I will just finish this and we will head straight in.”

Penny hurried off with Lindir.

There was a minute’s pause and then Halladan and Arvain slowly looked at each other, their mood entirely changed and their faces suddenly serious.

“And what, brother, do you make of that?”

“I do not know, Arvain. I do not know, but I am not sure I like it. She was genuinely surprised and even a little alarmed.”

“Indeed.” Arvain looked at his brother for a moment. “Well? Should we tell Aragorn?”

“Let me think on it. The Rohirrim do not arrive until the day after tomorrow, so there is no immediate hurry. I shall mull this over, but yes, I think King Elessar should be told.”

“You think something has occurred back home?” Arvain was sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, not yet. We would have had word by now if it had. Perhaps something has yet to occur? We left men behind us, it is true, but a mere handful and many of them elderly, sick or young. Most of the strongest and best amongst us all rode south. If there is any danger…”

“But she said it was nothing.”

Halladan gave his brother a meaningful look. “She has had to carry secrets all this time, brother. There may be reasons why she withholds this from us now. No, the more I think of this, the more I think the King should be told and told as soon as possible.”

“But we are not certain.”

“He is wiser than either of us, Arvain. He will know how best to act on this, or if to act at all.”

“I agree.”

“In which case,” Halladan said, knocking out his pipe on the flagstones, “let us go and find him.”

Word had clearly spread amongst the few who knew of Penny’s story, and all who knew of course well understood (or could guess) both her desire to stay as well as the relief certainty (one way or the other) must have brought her. They were happy for her, for all sorts of reasons. Elladan cut in and insisted he dance with her after Lindir, Erestor murmured something in her ear about being glad for her sake when Elladan brought her over to the side to find a cup of wine for them both, and Galadriel, passing by with her husband on their way to dance, smiled warmly and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Penny did not notice Arvain and Halladan enter the Hall of Feasts and make their way over to Aragorn. Gandalf and Elrond were with him, but so were Faramir and one or two other nobles. Halladan murmured something in Aragorn’s ear who glanced at him, reading his face, then nodded and wordlessly rose from his seat. He walked over to one side as Halladan spoke quietly to him, Aragorn listening intently all the while.

The two talked for a few moments, Aragorn clearly asking questions and Halladan asking a few in return. Aragorn looked up, thoughtful and his expression serious. Gandalf caught his look and furrowed his brows as if to ask him what the matter was. There was the faintest, almost imperceptible tilt of the head from Aragorn by way of reply, asking him to come over. Gandalf was on his feet immediately and, no doubt on the silent prompting of Gandalf, Elrond was only a second behind him.

As they joined Aragorn, Halladan and Arvain, and then made to leave the Hall through a back door, Elrond turned, scanning the room for someone. One dance had just finished and another about to begin. Celeborn was smiling at his wife, asking her if she would care for another, when he looked in Elrond’s direction, as if he had sensed he was being looked for. Whether Elrond was able to throw his mind that far, or simply long years of knowing each other so well was enough for Celeborn to immediately read his son-in-law’s expression, Celeborn murmured quietly to Galadriel, handed her over to Elrohir to take the next dance and made his way through the crowd to come and join the others.

A little time later they were all in an antechamber together. It was a rather large room with a high, beamed roof, heavy furniture and tall windows set high in one wall opposite the door. Outside a long, wide corridor and hallway opened out on one side onto the main square, the wall giving way to pillars that opened onto a flight of low steps down to the flagstones.

“So you think it may be significant?” Halladan was asking.

“I do indeed. There is something she has resolutely kept hidden even from both Lord Elrond and Mithrandir here.”

“I knew it had nothing to do with the elves. At the same time I felt it was something relatively near to home.” Elrond was looking grave. “If it concerns the Dunedain…”

“Or the North as a whole, perhaps?”

Everyone turned to look at Gandalf but he said nothing more.

“Do you think we should question her?”

“We have no choice, Arvain.”

“I doubt you will get anything out of her,” Gandalf said quietly. “I think she is resolute. She doubts her own judgment in this matter, that is true, but I suspect she cannot see any other course of action. Did we not advise her to keep silent before the War?”

“But Sauron is fallen, Mithrandir. It is hardly the same situation.”

Again Gandalf remained silent, and Celeborn’s comment remained unchallenged.

“Shall I go and fetch her?” Arvain was looking at Aragorn as he said this.

Aragorn nodded. “Yes. Yes, if you please, Arvain.”

So it was that about ten minutes later Penny spotted Arvain heading her way through the throng. She grinned and he smiled back, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that told her something was up.

“Is anything amiss, Arvain?”

“No, no. I have been sent to find you. The King is asking for you.”

“Oh?”

She looked at him and he smiled once more, reassuring her, but there was something…

She had no chance to mull it over as Arvain was already heading back the way he had come, so she hurriedly handed Celebdor her cup and went to catch up with him.

Arvain did not say a word as they crossed the courtyard.

“Arvain, are you upset with me?”

“No.”

Again that slightly forced smile. What had got into him?

“What does the King want of me, do you know?” It could not be an invitation to another quiet gathering since nearly everyone else was in the Hall as far as she could tell.

However, Arvain did not reply. He simply hurried up the low steps towards the pillars along one side of the block of buildings north of the Citadel.

“Arvain?”

She touched his arm to stop him as he turned left at the top of the steps.

“Arvain? What is the matter?”

He looked down at her.

“Nothing… I hope. Come.”

And he turned, leading her down the corridor to a large heavy door where he knocked, waiting for a reply even as he glanced over his shoulder and beckoned for her to hurry up and join him.

Penny was not sure she liked the look of this.

Then, when Arvain opened the door, ushering her in ahead of him, and she saw both who was waiting for her and the expressions on their faces, she knew she did not like the look of it.

Not at all.

Given Halladan and Arvain were there, she could guess what this was about. She halted, feeling angry that this had been sprung on her but also worried about what she should or should not say and exactly how hard they were likely to press her.

Behind her Arvain closed the door. As he walked around her and into the room to go and stand beside his brother, Penny glared resentfully at him. He caught her eye and did seem vaguely apologetic, but she dropped her gaze to the floor as soon as she realised the rest were looking at her.

“Ah, Pen-ii,” Aragorn was sounding warm and pleasant, “Thank you for joining us. Will you take a seat?” He indicated an empty chair beside Elrond.

She smiled thinly, trying to look gracious and as if she had no clue as to why she was there. She slowly crossed over to them and sat down. She glanced up at Halladan, standing behind Gandalf. He looked back at her levelly, not unkindly but certainly seriously, and there was a hint of concern on his face.

“You will forgive this impromptu meeting, Pen-ii, and it may be we are worrying unnecessarily, but, well, how shall I put this…?”

“I think Halladan and Arvain here,” Gandalf cut over the top of Aragorn, “were concerned that you felt the wrong decision had been made in keeping many of the Dunedain here for a little while longer.”

Did they, now?

“Apparently you seemed surprised that they were not to travel north, and that worried them.”

She could not blame them, but she was still furious – at herself as much as them. At the same time this hit too close to the bone for her to glare up at Halladan or Arvain since they were actually right, after all.

Damn Dunedain and their intuitive insight! They were nearly as bad as bloody elves!

She stared at the floor tiles in front of her.

“It is not for me to have an opinion one way or the other,” she said as calmly and non-commitally as she could. “Wiser minds than mine have made a decision and I am sure it is the correct one. I know nothing of the Dunedain, their future or their history. You all know that.”

Her tone was taut, polite and strained which only went to confirm to everyone there that they were probably right in at least some of their assumptions and they had hit a raw nerve. Glances were exchanged. Halladan’s brow furrowed slightly, his alarm showing clearly on his face and matched by Aragorn’s own expression.

Elrond sighed and leaned forward in his chair.

“Pen-ii, I know I have asked you this many times, and I have not pressed you on it in a good long while, not since we left Imladris, in fact. Forgive me, but is there nothing more you wish to tell us? You know we know there is something more that you have withheld from us, be it good or bad. Have we hit near the mark? Would it not be best to tell us, help us to make the right decisions?”

Penny glared at the floor tile in front of her as if she would burn a hole in it. How dare they? How dare they put her in this position? How dare they bundle her in here, put pressure on her like this!

“Do not be angry, Pen-ii.” Celeborn, seated on the other side of Aragorn from Gandalf, could see the expression on her face. “This is not unreasonable of us. Sauron is fallen, the danger is passed. It was one thing to risk his fall, but another to possibly endanger lives…”

“I know of no lives in danger,” she said quickly. It was true… in a fashion.

“But there is a risk?” Halladan was speaking in earnest. “And it is back home? Tell us, Pen-ii! Please!”

She closed her eyes. She would not give in to this. She would not. Emotional blackmail or not, she had to stay resolute…

“Pen-ii, if something has occurred or is yet to occur in Eriador, then I would ask you to tell me. It is my realm, and those are my people, my kinsmen.”

This was not fair of Aragorn, Penny decided. Not fair at all!

“I have a duty to them and I love them dearly. If they are in any danger…”

“Stop it!”

There was silence, and her voice echoed off the rafters.

“You cannot do this to me! I will not let you!”

Still she refused to look up at any of them, scared she might crack at any moment, torn as she was between desperately wanting to tell them, warn them, have them do anything to stop the Shire being destroyed and yet… and yet not trusting them to be ruthless enough, to slaughter in cold blood just on her say-so.

She rounded on Elrond.

“This is just like when I told you about the Balrog in Moria. It took all my strength of will not to tell you about Mithrandir’s fall, and even then you were furious with me. I shall never forget that, Elrond. And it may be you will all be furious with me once more, if you are not already, but of all the options open to me the only one I can choose is silence. Do not press me. I am close to breaking and I cannot think but that would end in disaster.”

“Pen-ii…” Elrond began.

“No.”

“Pen-ii, this is…” Aragorn was sterner in tone.

“No!”

“Will you not even confirm that something happens in the North? That the Dunedain are needed?” Halladan was looking at her with something close to anger in his eye.

“No, Halladan, I will not. I will not confirm or deny anything. I will not even confirm or deny that whatever is to occur does so in the North because whatever I deny will lead you to alternative conclusions. I cannot risk that. This is not my choice to make, but I must make it. I would prefer not to have this decision, but I do, and so I must decide. If you guess at it and change your decisions based on your own foresight or intuition, then so be it – that is not my affair, but I will not, I will not be bullied into speaking when my heart tells me it is utterly the wrong thing to do.”

She was getting desperate now. She was angry, frustrated and worried as hell she was not doing the right thing.

Aragorn had opened his mouth to say something, but Celeborn stayed him, holding up his hand.

“Then we must respect your decision, Pen-ii. You had to hold your tongue before over the deaths of many, over acts of darkness and danger but all for a higher purpose. We can only trust it is for the same reasons now.”

She looked at him gratefully. “I am desperate to tell you. Believe me. I do not make this choice easily.”

“I know. I realise that. It may be we have some foresight over what you may tell us.”

Yes, indeed, given the gift Galadriel gave to Sam in Lothlorien.

“Perhaps.”

“Come. I think this meeting has served little purpose other than to frustrate us all and upset Lady Pen-ii.” Gandalf stood. “Forgive us, Pen-ii. You were most clear to me this afternoon about your intention in this matter, and I did warn them that you were resolute. You cannot blame us for being concerned when it may touch people who are so dear to us, that is all.”

“I do not blame you in the least. I only hope you are not too angry with me.”

“Not at all, Pen-ii,” Gandalf replied, and Celeborn murmured his agreement. Penny noted the others stayed silent, however.

She could not move. She was raging, desperate, worried and upset. Elrond and Celeborn stood and walked over to the door with Gandalf. Arvain exchanged a glance with his brother and Aragorn, shook his head and then walked across to the large table at one end of the room, resting his hands on the top, bowing his head and sighing heavily. Halladan had not yet moved and Penny could not bear to look at him. She was worried if she did she would find only anger and reproach in his eyes.

“Come, Pen-ii. Mithrandir is right. Let us return to the Hall.” Aragorn slowly got to his feet as he spoke. “If you think it best we do not know, then so be it. We cannot force it out of you, after all.” He attempted a laugh as he said this, but it had a hollow ring to it. “If it has nothing to do with the Dunedain, then Elbereth be praised, and if they are to be tested, then one can only hope good will come of it. There, that is my saying on the matter.” He held out his hand out in a gesture to indicate she should rise and leave the room ahead of him. She nodded and gave a half-hearted smile.

As she walked to the door, her brain was whirring like mad. She could not leave it like this. The Dunedain had to go north and soon. Would they now still remain behind a month or more? What state would Eriador be in by the time they reached their home? Imladris was near enough empty, and while the elves would defend their borders once they got home, they would not be that interested in defending half of Aragorn’s realm on his behalf, on that Penny was fairly certain.

In front of her, Gandalf had held the door open for Elrond and Celeborn before following them out into the corridor. Behind her Aragorn and Halladan were following her together, while Arvain had yet to move from the table.

She hesitated.

Behind her Aragorn and Halladan stopped.

“Pen-ii?”

She turned to find Aragorn looking at her sharply.

“I…”

If she could talk to him alone, then… After all, he would not be there when they met Saruman, so perhaps he could advise her…

“Wait one moment, Pen-ii,” Aragorn said rather too loudly for it to be solely for Penny’s benefit. “Perhaps we might be well served if I spoke to you alone. No, no, you stay, Halladan, you may be able to help me gently persuade Lady Pen-ii to be more forthcoming.”

Penny looked alarmed as Aragorn strode past her to the door, nodding out to the slightly astonished trio in the corridor and then firmly shutting the door on them. He turned back to Penny, and she was surprised to see the hint of a smile on his face.

“Now then, what is it that you might be prepared to tell me but you are not willing to say to those three?”

She blinked at him. Behind her Arvain had turned round from the table, and now both he and Halladan were staring at Aragorn with obvious astonishment.

“Is that not the case? Or have I misjudged this completely?”

“No,” Penny said slowly. “No, but…”

“But?” He was walking back to the group of chairs, indicating that she should join him.

“I cannot tell you everything.”

He stopped, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Please, your Majesty, I would do so, but…” She sighed. “I would gladly tell you, but you would have to swear to me that you would not say one word to anyone, that it would not go outside of this room. You would have to swear you would not tell Mithrandir or Lord Elrond, or Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel… Perhaps not even Queen Arwen, given she is related to them. I would not want to ask that of you. It would be unjust and inappropriate of me to do so.”

Aragorn was looking fairly gobsmacked it had to be said.

“But why, Pen-ii?”

“Do not ask me that, Halladan.” She turned to him. “Please.”

“Then what can you tell me?” Aragorn was seated, his composure regained once more.

“Why are the Dunedain still here?”

The three men looked at each other.

“So it does concern us!” Arvain walked briskly back to join the rest. “We were right!”

“You are not answering my question.”

“You have the right to ask it?” Halladan asked coolly. “Our King asked us to stay, and we stayed. Some of us were injured, some of us were in no hurry to return home to those grieving the fallen, some of us felt, rightly so, that the danger was past and we could afford to take our time.”

“Forgive me, Halladan, you said to me you have left some protecting the north, but are they enough? Imladris is empty and how many Dunedain still roam the wilds? The rangers are gone. They rode south. Who is there to protect the people now? They never appreciated your work in the past. They little knew or cared how much you did for them all, unbidden and unrewarded, but now… now they notice that the rangers are gone. They miss you, or they will do soon. You should return.”

“YOU DARED TO KEEP THIS FROM ME!” Aragorn practically exploded. “I am King of Eriador, Pen-ii! It is my duty to protect all those that live there, be they of my kin or no!”

“Aragorn…”

“Halladan, she should have told us this from the first!”

“He is right, Halladan.”

Penny had long worried about this, and to have someone ranting at her, basically telling her she had in fact done exactly the wrong thing, was a rather upsetting thing to hear.

“With all due respect, King Elessar, do you think you could not have worked it out for yourself?”

Halladan and Arvain looked at her, appalled and agog. Aragorn was furious.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

He was on his feet and Penny now joined him.

“WHEN ORTHANC EMPTIED, JUST WHERE WERE THEY MEANT TO GO!”

He blinked at her.

“What?”

Arvain and Halladan looked horrified.

“Uruk-hai? In Eriador!”

“Sweet Elbereth, no!”

“I did not say that. As far as I know, they were all slaughtered in the battle in Rohan. Some may have escaped, but I doubt it. There were others in Orthanc, though. Half-breeds. Half-breeds and men in the thrall of Saruman. They could not go south or east since they only would have found Rohirrim or Gondorians. They could only travel one way, caught between the sea and the mountains: the Greenway.”

Halladan sat heavily in a chair, his head in his hands. Arvain was looking stunned. Aragorn was still staring at her, his mind whirring and his face ashen.

“They were needed.”

“I know, your Majesty.”

“I asked for them because they were needed.”

“Indeed. They were needed: to join you in the fight in southern Gondor, to take the ships, to inspire the people on those ships and to provide a third flank on the Pelennor once you landed and then lift the hearts of those already there who had nearly given up hope and thought the battle lost. They were needed… but now they are needed back home.”

He nodded and slowly moved round to the back of his chair, taking hold of it with one hand.

“I have had no word that affairs are that bad.”

“It may be they are still making their way slowly north. It may be that, compared to the orcs and wolves that were prowling round before the War that matters, if not back to how they were, are not out of control as yet. I cannot tell you. All I can tell you is what the people of Eriador describe happened to them – that many strangers and bad men came up the Greenway and suddenly everyone wondered where the rangers had gone since no one had seen them in a long while.”

A silence fell. Penny sat down. She looked round at the three of them and realised that, as grieved as they were to hear this news, she was glad she had told them.

“I am sorry. I had assumed the Dunedain were travelling north with us. Since I only know the story from the time when the elves reach Imladris onwards, it had not occurred to me the Dunedain would arrive much later than Lord Elrond and his household. Perhaps I should not have said anything. Perhaps you are meant to arrive later… I do not know. I am glad I have told you, I am glad that you know, but I am worried. Perhaps I have changed something that was actually meant to be.”

“Honestly, Pen-ii? I can tell you that I would have insisted the Dunedain ride north with Lord Elrond even if you had not told me what you have. That you were as astonished as you were was enough for me to make that decision even when Halladan first told me of it. You have changed nothing by revealing this, only confirmed that, as you say, my kinsmen are needed in their homes and the surrounding land. Those we left behind would have been enough to protect our own. It is the others, the men and hobbits of Eriador, that would have been left exposed.”

“They never appreciated the work you did for them.”

There was a wry smile on Aragorn’s face. “Perhaps not.”

“Father always complained of it.”

“And yet we still protected them, Arvain,” Halladan pointed out. “We knew they needed looking after even if they did not realise it.” He looked at Penny. “Thank you. Thank you for telling us this. For myself, it will help to ride north with a purpose ahead of me.”

Arvain nodded and Aragorn chuckled at the pair of them. Penny was still worried she had said too much.

“As for the rest,” Aragorn was saying, “I do not doubt it is specifics related to what you have just said, no? No matter. I can tell the others if they question my change of heart what you have said with little fear, I think, though I shall try and maintain you have told me nothing. And as for the Dunedain, though they may guess I have had some foresight, if necessary they will accept that I have read between the lines in news from home and am concerned there is trouble brewing. There is no point in sending them any sooner than with the elves. Besides, we would all wish to give the fallen King of Rohan his due, on that point I insist.”

“I am so very sorry.”

“Do not apologise. You have done the right thing. Whatever occurs then if the Dunedain are there even if they cannot stop it, they can prevent it getting worse and can strive to overcome it. I trust them implicitly. Any one of them is worth many ordinary men.”

“I know. That much is very clear in our tales.”

There was an amused expression on Aragorn’s face. “Well, I am glad to know we got some recognition at last, but then your abject apologies to Halbarad over the way you behaved with him were proof enough of that.”

Penny tried to join in with the quiet chuckles, but did not quite manage it.

“He would be pleased you have told us, Pen-ii. And that you are striving to do what is best, no matter how difficult it is for you.”

“I agree, Halladan.” Arvain nodded. “It must be hard for you to try and make such decisions by yourself, but I am glad we know and we can ride north and prepare ourselves.”

“Well, then, the decision is made.” Aragorn made for the door and Arvain got to his feet.

Penny remained seated, however, and as Halladan pushed himself upright with this stick he looked questioningly at her.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes… in a moment. Can I stay here for a little while? It has all been a little…”

“But of course, Pen-ii,” Aragorn replied, already at the door.

She turned in her seat. “Forgive me, your Majesty. I was quite rude just now.”

“As was I, I do not doubt,” he waved his hand and grinned, “Emotions were running high and you made your point, so please think no more about it.”

“I will be along presently,” Halladan said. “I think there is something I need to discuss with Lady Pen-ii.”

“But of course.” Aragorn opened the door. “Arvain?”

Arvain was looking at his brother, as if wondering whether to stay or not.

“Please, Arvain,” Halladan indicated a chair beside him, “after all it concerns you as much as I.”

“No. No, Halladan, it is for you to tell. It was you he spoke to after all.”

Halladan seemed a little disconcerted, but accepted his brother’s decision.

“We will wait outside for you. Take your time.” So saying, Aragorn and Arvain left the room to join the other three who were waiting patiently outside.

Penny was looking at Halladan as he sat back down in a chair next to her.

“There was something you wanted to say? If it is about all this, then I am sorry I alarmed you. Truly, I am. I can only guess how distressing this must be for you all…”

“No, no. It is not that. It is related to it, perhaps, but, no, do not apologise. All is well.” Halladan smiled.

“Well, then?”

“Pen-ii, if we are to return north and for such a purpose… well, it changes matters a little. Arvain and I had not come to a decision as to how long we would stay here in Gondor, and in part that was because we were waiting for you to make your decision on where you wished to stay.”

“Me?”

Halladan took a deep breath, stared at the floor for a moment and then, glancing back at Penny, he continued.

“As you know, Father told us all about you, about how he had found you, what he thought of you at first, how he watched with increasing pride as you changed and settled into life in Imladris. I… I do not know if he ever managed to convey this to you, but he said to us that he had begun to look on you as something like the daughter he never had.”

Penny’s throat was tight. She had not known what to expect Halladan to say, but she had not expected this.

“He was much moved by the fact that you had never known your father, never had such a figure in your life. In some ways, having been the one to first find you and look after you as you travelled to Imladris he had already begun to think of you as his responsibility, his charge. Then, after the revelations of your situation, he realised that, after the War, you would need someone to look after you, to become the equivalent of your family. A woman by herself… It is not possible in our society. She needs a husband, a family, menfolk to protect her and on whom she can rely. He made a vow to himself that he would take on that role.”

Halladan paused, glancing at her once more in time to catch her as she wiped a tear away from her cheek.

“He never told you any of this, did he?”

She shook her head.

“We would have become something like brother and sister.”

He smiled at her, and she tried to smile back but it hurt too much to know Halbarad had thought so much of her, had cared and worried about her to this extent.

“Forgive me if this is upsetting for you, Pen-ii. I have been waiting for the right moment to tell you these things. He would have wanted you to know.”

She nodded. “I understand, Halladan. Please… continue.”

“He had made that vow to himself, as I say. He told us about it, all three of us, since it would no doubt affect us. We needed to know he had made such a commitment and understand his reasoning behind it.” He paused. “Of course, when he made that promise, he did not know he would not survive the War to see it through.” He looked at her, studying her face for a moment before he spoke, and when he did his voice seemed thick at first. “When… when he was dying…” He coughed and cleared his throat. “…he made me swear that I would take on his role as guardian to you, that I would fulfil his duty by you. I did so gladly, Pen-ii, even though I had never met you. I had heard enough about you and I trusted Father’s judgement implicitly… He had not needed to ask, in truth - we would have done it even if he had not mentioned it.”

Penny was staring at him open-mouthed, trying not to dissolve into tears in front of him.

When he was dying? He had been that damn insistent about it that…?

She bowed her head, putting her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her emotions. Halladan said nothing, just sighed heavily and gave her a few minutes to recover herself and take in what he had just told her.

At last she sniffed and took a deep breath, wiping her cheeks as surreptitiously as she could. She looked up to find him smiling sadly at her, his face taut with deep emotion.

“I thank you for telling me this, Halladan. It… it moves me much to know he worried about me and took that burden on himself. I thank you also for what you promised him and for the friendship you have shown me since I met you.”

The smile lightened a little on his face. “I am glad you consider me a friend. As I do you.”

She shook her head a little, as if still at a loss.

“I am not sure exactly what my father intended,” Halladan continued, “but I imagine he would have had you come to live with us or with the Dunedain at least. Arvain and I agreed that, so long as you agreed to our guardianship, we would do our best to be near wherever you chose to stay. We would be welcome here in Gondor, and King Elessar, of course, would be happy to have his kinsmen nearby, indeed has already told us all that any who choose to come and live here will be given land and income. Equally if you stayed in Imladris, you would be close to us, but then you have not yet decided. If you choose to stay in Gondor, then you have to understand that we have to ride north and we do not know how long we will be gone. However, I want you to know that we will return, both of us, to fulfil our duty and to act as protectors on our father’s behalf. Aragorn would stand as guardian in our stead until that time, rest assured on that point. This is why I needed to explain the situation to you.”

Penny was bewildered by all this. She was touched, grateful, but it was a lot to take in all at once.

“Halladan, I do not want you to feel beholden to me in any way.” She held up her hand to stop him interrupting. “No, let me explain. I am touched and grateful for your kindness and thoughtfulness. I said what I did not to belittle the fealty you hold to your father, nor the honourable kindness you would extend to me. I simply want to tell you that you must not feel as if you have to do something that you do not wish to do or would cause you difficulty. If it is in my power to do such a thing, then I release you from your promise. Do not think ill of me for saying such a thing, I…”

He suddenly took her hand in both of his.

“Pen-ii,” he said, and his tone was as firm as his hold on her hand, “whether it is in your power or no, I stand by my promise. I shall stand by it to my dying breath. When I told Arvain and Hirvell of it, they agreed to it instantly: no argument, no debate, no question. You need someone to look after you, Pen-ii, to help you find your way. The elves would do it gladly, but… well, you really need a fellow mortal, and the elves will not stay overlong now things have changed. You cannot remain alone, it is impossible. I thank you, but I am resolute.”

She could see the determination in his eye. She felt a little guilty that perhaps he and Arvain felt lumbered with her thanks to their father, but at the same time she felt a rush of gratitude towards them both, and to Halbarad also. She felt her eyes filling with tears once more and tried to smile to ward them off. He smiled back at her, nodding and letting go his hold on her hand as if they had come to a silent agreement which, in some ways, they probably had. She noted he did not move, though, did not make to stand but hesitated as if there was still more to say. She tilted her head a little, looking at him questioningly.

“There is something else you should know… while we are talking about this, I mean.” He seemed uncertain, suddenly, as if unsure as how best to proceed. “He… he asked me to tell you something.”

Penny was suddenly very aware of her own heartbeat. Did he again mean as Halbarad lay dying? Surely not?

“He told me to tell you…”

He swallowed.

“He told me to tell you that you were not to blame yourself.”

Penny stared at him.

“That it was his choice, that it was not your fault.”

Penny felt a cold horror grip her. He could not mean what she thought he meant. No. No, no, no. She refused to believe it.

“He said to tell you that… that Lord Elrond told him. Lord Elrond told him everything.”

It was as if time stood still.

“Pen-ii?”

Penny had gone absolutely white. She felt like she was in shock. She was not even sure she was breathing properly. In fact the more she focused on it the more she became aware she was holding her breath, or was short of breath, or her chest was tight, or something.

And then it came: a great, heaving sob as she dragged in breath, her hands hovering in midair for a moment as if she was uncertain whether to cover her face, or leap out of her chair, or tear her hair out. Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and fast.

Halladan, watching her completely break down in front of him, was immediately worried he had done the wrong thing. His father had only wanted to ease her pain, he knew, but this was probably worse than any guilt or blame she may have held on to since it was clear that, just like himself when his father had spoken to him, she had had no idea Elrond had told his father that she had known he would die.

She looked at him, and he could see it was as if she wanted to say something but had no idea how to form the words.

Then suddenly she was on her feet and running for the door.

There was something in her expression as she did so, as if all that distress had focused itself into blind rage, and that alarmed Halladan, especially since he knew it was not directed at him. He grabbed his stick and hurried after her, calling her name.

Penny had reached the door and flung it open, looking out into the corridor. There, some way down and almost level with the pillars, were Aragorn and Gandalf, and only a little way in front of them stood Elrond, Celeborn and Arvain chatting quietly.

She had opened the door with some violence and all turned to look as they heard the noise. It was clear even in the half-light of the torch brackets both that Penny was distressed and furious, and that her attention was on only one of them. Elrond furrowed his brows in astonishment and the others, turning to look at each other at first to see which of them her rage was focused on, then looked back and forth between the two or else exchanged puzzled glances.

Halladan, catching up with her at last, grasped her by the arm and attempted to either pull her back into the room or at least stop her from striding forward.

“Pen-ii, no. Please. Not while you are this angry, this upset.”

She stood there, shaking with fury, breathing hard, desperately trying to contain herself, but not breaking her glare in Elrond’s direction.

Elrond, glancing at the others and seeing they looked as bewildered as he felt, walked towards her.

“Is anything amiss, Pen-ii?” he asked, concerned. “I have angered you in some way?”

Still she said nothing, but her face was contorted in what was obviously a supreme effort to keep her feelings under control and bite her tongue.

Behind Elrond, Arvain looked questioningly at his brother but Halladan broke eye-contact with him, muttering to Penny that she had best come back inside the room and calm down.

Arvain had his answer.

“Pen-ii, I think I have a right to know why you seem so furious with me.” Elrond’s tone was edging towards the stern as he stopped in front of her.

Penny nodded several times, as if screwing up the courage to give him a piece of her mind.

“Pen-ii?”

“You had no right.”

She spoke slowly and quietly, her jaw tight and her teeth clenched. Elrond’s expression instantly became dark as he heard the tone she was using with him.

“You had no right to lay that burden on him. How dare you? I told you what I did so that, if there was any way at all, you might help me stop him riding south. I knew it was hopeless, I knew it was stupid, I knew it was the wrong thing to do… but I never dreamed you would betray me to him!”

Behind her Halladan gently pulled on her arm, saying her name insistently.

“Pen-ii, leave this. Please. This is not the way…”

But she was not listening. Now the dam had broken there was no stopping the flood.

“And it is not even your betrayal of my trust that makes me so furious, so absolutely… furious.” She took a deep, shuddering breath in through her nose. She was struggling to maintain control, her voice beginning to crack madly and tears threatening to fall. “It is the fact that he then carried that burden with him all that time, all the way south. We mortals accept death as part and parcel of who we are – from the day we are born we know that we will die. We can live in hope that we will live long lives, but we cannot know: we can only hope. Every soldier that goes into battle knows he may not live to see the dawn, but he can still hope. And you took that away from him!” She had tears streaming down her face. “You… you gave him a certainty beyond certainty. For all your insight and foresight and visions, you can never know. But I knew. I knew!” And she jabbed at her sternum so savagely she bruised herself, though she did not feel it at the time. “And he knew that if it came from me, that there was no question of it. I told him about Boromir, did he tell you that? Did you know? And the moment he met Aragorn and found that to be true, it would have confirmed to him that what I knew, I knew for certainty. He carried that burden with him all that time, Elrond, and that was your doing. How dare you do that? You, of all people! You, who has suffered so much! You, out of all immortals should have known …”

She stopped herself, reining in her emotions with a monumental effort. She closed her eyes tight to try and stop the tears from falling. Her hands were clenched tight into fists as she fought to keep it all in, her nails digging into her palms.

And all the while Halladan’s hand stayed holding her upper arm, his grip looser now and more a comfort, a reminder that she must not let go. Halladan himself felt desperate. He was embarrassed that he had clearly been the trigger of her behaviour let alone that she was speaking to Lord Elrond in such a manner. At the same time the strength of sympathy she had for his father moved him greatly.

Down the corridor the scene was being watched with some concern. Penny had kept her voice down through most of it so much of what was said was missed, though snatches could be heard by all. It was clear, however, that she was speaking her mind even if she was trying to keep herself under control; and, no matter what Penny thought was the case, nothing Lord Elrond could have done could warrant such behaviour. Their expressions were grave.

Elrond was livid and it showed in his face. He was not used to being spoken to in this fashion, for all that Penny was trying to restrain herself.

“I of all immortals, Pen-ii?” Elrond’s glare was hard, his voice cold with rage as he prompted her to continue, to finish her sentence.

“No matter. I have said what I wished to say.”

Penny did not look at him as she spoke. Not out of any sense of shame, but rather in an attempt to control herself and not be drawn into saying things she may regret later.

“Come, Pen-ii, please. You have said more than enough.”

Halladan was again pulling on her arm. He could feel her resistance was less than previously and she began to turn.

“No.”

Elrond reached out for the same arm that Halladan was holding and stayed the movement. As he pulled Penny back to face him, Halladan’s hand fell away, deferring to the greater authority.

“I want to know what you would say to me.” Still that voice as hard as steel with anger. “I want to hear you say it, even though I can guess near enough.”

“Lord Elrond…” Halladan was nearly pleading.

Penny was glaring back at Elrond once more.

“I, of all immortals, should know better because..?”

And in that moment Penny threw caution to the wind. So much had been unsaid, too often she walked on tiptoes, never quite said what she felt or thought, worried and tried to conform. She had done her damnedest to fit in, to follow their mores, to restrain herself and not even speak of all she knew and all because they had advised her so.

And here he was, the one who had laid such an intolerable burden on Halbarad’s shoulders, goading her.

Well, stuff him.

“You of all immortals know what it is to live with the knowledge of certain death hanging over those you love.”

“Pen-ii!” Halladan’s voice was sharp in her ear, but it was useless.

“I used to near weep for you, you know. Truly. You lost both your parents, your brother chose mortality, your daughter has chosen the same fate, and you nearly lost your wife.”

The expression on Elrond’s face was extraordinary.

“You have suffered, will suffer terribly… So, all the more reason for you not to have laid that burden on him. You should have understood more than anyone what you were doing to him.” She shook her head as if unable to find the words to express her contempt for him in that moment. “I will never forgive you for that. Never. What you did was…”

She had no words. She pushed Elrond out of the way, an action that had everyone else watching gasp and look appalled, and began to walk down the corridor towards the square.

Halladan was stock still in the doorway, immobile, unable to believe what she had just said. Penny had referred, directly, to matters that were rarely spoken of, or certainly not outside of intimate circles.

Elrond was standing to one side, his head bowed. He seemed to be having some difficult controlling his emotions. Then he turned, lifting his head as he took a deep breath and called Penny’s name. She stopped, but did not turn round.

The others down the corridor, who all knew Elrond well, could see from the expression on his face that whatever Penny had said it had upset and angered him greatly.

“You should know, Pen-ii, that he had foreseen it himself. He came to me about it. He asked me directly if you had said anything. I could not lie to him.”

It was like a slap in the face. Penny slowly turned to face him, stunned, all her anger gone in an instant.

“I loved him dearly. I told you that at the time, and any here could attest to it. It grieved me much to tell him, but he insisted. He could see I was trying to hold something back from him. No matter how much I tried to avoid telling him, I had no choice.” He paused, glancing up at Arvain and then back at Halladan. “Forgive me.”

There was an awful silence.

The others, who had not heard all of what had been said, were now busily filling in the gaps in their heads. Penny was rooted to the spot. She felt sick. Elrond, still clearly very angry and upset, eventually moved, walking away from the room and down the corridor. As he drew level with Penny he stopped, glaring at her.

“You are right,” he murmured, his voice shaking slightly with anger. “I have known great loss. And for you to be so brazen as to… How dare you mention them to me! You think I do not know full well the burden he took with him? I understood absolutely, which is why I did everything I could to avoid telling him. Did it never occur to you I did not tell you I had told him precisely to spare you the pain that knowledge would cause you?”

He looked at her for a moment as if assessing the affect his words had had on her. Then he abruptly turned and strode away, Celeborn immediately following him, calling his name and asking him to wait, to calm down. Aragorn and Gandalf shared a glance, seemingly unable to take in what had just occurred. Halladan, still frozen in the doorway, seemed stricken, and Arvain seemed similarly distressed.

“Pen-ii, just what did you…?”

“No.” Gandalf held a hand up and stopped Aragorn, looking dark, as he made to cross over to Penny. “Leave her. Leave them both until they have calmed down. Now is not the time.” Then he walked over to Penny. “You have done a grave thing,” he said quietly. “I realise you were shocked and upset by what you learnt, but that was no excuse. That said, what has been done is not irreparable, but you will apologise to Lord Elrond, is that clear?”

There was no response. Penny, her cheeks wet with tears, had her gaze fixed somewhere on the flagstones in front of her.

“I said, ‘Is that clear?’” His tone was firm and insistent: he would brook no argument.

Her gaze flickered up to his, and he could immediately see she was terribly distressed, desperately sorry. She nodded. Then her gaze fell down to the floor once more, even as both her hands came to cover her face.

Gandalf walked away, back to Aragorn.

“Come,” he said.

Aragorn hesitated, still looking in bewilderment at Penny and then at Halladan and Arvain. Arvain had turned away, one hand resting on the wall as he stared at nothing in particular. However Halladan returned his gaze and nodded, indicating Aragorn should leave, that he would take care of matters here.

“King Elessar,” Gandalf called from the steps. Aragorn turned, heading off to join him out in the courtyard.

Author’s Notes:

Many thanks to my beta, mumstheword, who found this most appropriate saying of Aristotle’s: “Anyone can become angry – that is easy, but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”As ever, my sincere thanks to all those reading and those who take time out to review and let me know their thoughts and responses to the chapters. I do appreciate it. :)

Chapter 36 – “Up A Certain Creek”

For some moments after Aragorn had walked away, everything was completely silent and still in the dimly lit corridor except for the occasional shuddering breath from Penny.

Eventually Halladan and Arvain looked at each other and read bewilderment in each others’ eyes.

“Did you know?” Arvain asked slowly.

“No.” Halladan shook his head. “No, I had no idea. If I had known, would I not have told you before now?”

Penny, hearing them, lifted her head and looked questioningly at them both. It was Halladan who explained.

“That Father had some premonition or foresight that he would not survive the War,” he said simply.

Penny said nothing. She was devastated. She was at that stage of something like numbness - the pain, confusion and shame were so overwhelming that she could barely function. She felt so horribly ashamed for having upset Elrond, for having spoken to him as she had, and at the same time she was still trying to process everything Halladan had told her, let alone Elrond’s explanation. Her head felt like it was about to explode.

In that particular moment, though, more than anything else she was acutely aware that these two young men knew that she had known their father would die, that she had watched him ride south and that the pitiful attempt she had made to save his life had only resulted in him being burdened with that knowledge all the while he travelled.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I am so very sorry.” And the words felt so pitifully inadequate. “I tried. I… I tried and I failed, and it meant Elrond had no choice but to tell him. It is my fault. If I had not told him, then your father would not have… But how could I not try to…?”

God, what a mess! What a stupid, horrible, agonising mess!

There was a sudden movement in the doorway as Halladan came to life at last and strode over to her.

“No, Pen-ii.” Leaning on his stick with one hand, he took her firmly by the arm with his other hand and looked at her. “You must not do this. Father said what he did precisely so you would not blame yourself, so you would not feel this way.”

“But how can I not feel this way, Halladan!” She looked up at him. “Lord Elrond had no choice, and I put him in that position!”

Halladan, his face contorted in sympathy and sorrow, had no words.

“Pen-ii, if you felt you had to tell Lord Elrond, then…” Arvain was trying to sound as comforting as he could. He also crossed over to join her as he spoke, and Halladan let his hand fall away from its hold on Penny as he did so. “Besides, if Father had foreknowledge… well, let us just say that I have never known foreknowledge not to come to pass. He knew. If he had foreknowledge, he knew, no matter what Lord Elrond may or may not have told him.”

His voice had become a little thick and gravelly as he spoke. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze for a moment.

“Arvain is right, Pen-ii.”

Penny shook her head. She was not convinced. “I will not forgive myself for this.”

“That is what you said to Lord Elrond just now,” Halladan pointed out. Arvain looked shocked, raising his eyebrows at Halladan in surprise.

“I know,” Penny muttered, feeling utterly miserable and staring at the floor. “It was unforgivable. Everything I said to him I should have been saying to myself, though I little realised it.”

“I did try and stop you.”

“I tried to stop myself.”

“Well, yes, he did push you a little…”

“What exactly was said?”

Halladan looked at Arvain for a moment. “I am not sure that I…”

“I basically told him he had no right to tell your father, that foreknowledge was one thing but what I know I know for certainty and that is a completely different matter, that it was unforgivable of him, that he should have known better and that he should not have dared to do such a thing.”

Arvain looked appalled.

“Pen-ii, what were you thinking?!”

But Penny did not hear him.

“But it was me that did that to him,” she said in a very small voice. “I tried so very hard to try and stop it, and I just made it worse…”

“You tried to stop us riding south?” Arvain looked confused as he interrupted her.

Penny looked at him. They did not know, then? That only confirmed her suspicion that Halbarad had mentioned this only as he lay dying.

Which just seemed to make it all worse and Penny was not sure why.

“No,” said Halladan, replying to Arvain’s question, “I think she tried to persuade Lord Elrond to prevent Father from riding south if he possibly could. Is that correct, Pen-ii?”

Penny nodded. Then, trying to keep control of herself as best she could, she explained slowly and quietly what those last few days before the Dunedain had left Imladris had been like for her: how she had battled and struggled within herself, uncertain of what to say (if anything), knowing any attempt she made would be wholly futile for all sorts of reasons and yet desperate to do something, anything that might change what she knew would happen. She had let Boromir walk to his doom, and she could not bear to do the same thing to Halbarad without some sort of fight.

“Lord Elrond only told me what I had already told myself: that even if your father knew, he would still ride south. That Aragorn needed him was enough, let alone that Sauron may fall as a consequence.” She looked up at them. “He asked me. Lord Elrond... He asked me if Sauron would fall.” She trailed off.

“Father would have told you himself that nothing was more important than that, Pen-ii,” Halladan said grimly. “Nothing. No matter the loss.”

How could he say that? How could he say that after all he had been through, all he had lost, and seen, and suffered?

“If Sauron had not fallen, Pen-ii,” Arvain added, “…well, it does not bear thinking about.”

He did not go into detail. Penny could only imagine, and deep down she knew he was right.

“Father could never have stayed behind. It would have broken him,” Halladan explained. “He would have considered it a great dishonour, akin to treachery or cowardice. For Aragorn to call for us, for him, and not to respond…? Never! Not Father, nor I, nor Arvain.” He paused. “Nor Hirvell either.”

Arvain murmured his agreement.

“You did the right thing, Pen-ii,” Halladan continued. “That you did what you did, or tried to do… well, I would suspect Father was most touched and moved by your action because I do not doubt that if Lord Elrond had to tell him what you had said, then he would also have told him the circumstances in which you did so. For all it was, perhaps, a futile gesture, it was sincerely meant and you only thought to do good by it, to try and save his life. I thank you for that.”

And then Penny remembered the talk Halbarad had had with her, the private farewell he had given her in a dark corridor the night before he had left, when he had told her things she had only half understood about being proud of her and how she should continue to live her life, that it was hard for those left behind, for those who had to grieve… and she finally understood. It really had been a goodbye: a goodbye and an advice, no doubt, for how to cope, how to carry on without him.

The two brothers had seen her expression change, watched as her eyes filled with tears once more.

“Pen-ii?” Halladan’s voice was quiet.

“When he last spoke to me before he left Imladris… I have only now realised the significance of it. He was talking of men going to war despite the possibility of death and how hard it was for the women who wait behind…” She looked up at them both. “In his own way he… he was bidding me farewell.”

Arvain suddenly reached for her then, taking her into his arms and holding her as her silent tears wet his tunic. Halladan stood beside them both, looking at her as she stared unseeingly past him, his face etched with sorrow. He slid one hand gently down her arm and took her hand in his.

At last she pushed away from Arvain, Halladan released his hold on her hand and she wiped her cheeks.

“Ai, what a mess,” she muttered.

“Mithrandir was right,” Halladan said. “You must apologise to Lord Elrond.”

She nodded, feeling a wrench of shame in her gut. “I know. What I said was inexcusable.”

“Oh, I think you had an excuse. Not a good enough one, perhaps, to speak to him in quite such a manner, but you did have reason for your anger, however misguided.”

Penny looked at Halladan. Was that supposed to make her feel better?

“What? I am being honest!”

“Such a way with words, brother!” Arvain almost laughed.

“Arvain, you did not hear her!”

“Well, no. I do not think I have never seen Lord Elrond so upset. What did you say to him, Pen-ii? I mean, aside from all you told me just now? There must have been something more than that to get him quite so furious…”

Halladan and Penny said nothing.

Arvain’s eyebrows rose. “It was that bad?”

“I did not use bad language, Arvain. Aside from the fact I do not know any in your languages of course…”

“Pen-ii, no one mentions Elros or Celebrian to him,” Halladan said quietly, his face stern.

“What?!” Arvain was shocked.

“Or at least not unless they are not a close intimate of his and even then certainly not in public,” Halladan continued. “Nor Queen Arwen’s choice. You were fortunate indeed that neither King Elessar nor Lord Celeborn heard you.”

“He insisted I tell him what I was thinking, Halladan.”

“Even so.”

“I was only pointing out that he, of all elves, should have understood most… I was not rejoicing in his pain, I was saying I had always felt for him because of what he had been through…”

“Even so,” Halladan insisted.

Arvain was clearly having difficulty processing it all. “You… But I mean… What?!”

Penny’s heart sank as she took in Arvain’s reaction.

“Well, I think I can count out Imladris as an option of where to stay,” she murmured.

“Ah, now, do not say that. Lord Elrond is nothing if not kind and wise,” Halladan said, trying to reassure her. “He will understand what drove you to say what you did and accept your apology with grace and generosity, I do not doubt. As you said, he himself pressed you to speak your mind at the last… though it would have been wiser if you had resisted him, or better yet not to have given him cause to push you in the first place.”

“Once Lord Elrond has calmed down he will understand you did not mean to insult him by what you said. You mentioned subjects that are painful to him, true, but that is not in itself offensive, it is merely… unfortunate.” Arvain was being remarkably diplomatic. “I feel sure he would still welcome you at Imladris and insist you still consider it as an option.”

“I would feel uncomfortable knowing I spoken to him in such a manner and yet was taking advantage of his hospitality. It would not be right.”

Arvain tried to throw his brother a look which said he thought Penny had a fair point, but Halladan deliberately avoided his eye.

“I think you are running a little ahead of yourself,” Halladan replied, his tone reassuring. “Wait until you have spoken to him. You may be surprised. Yes, he is angry now, and not without reason, it is true, but his anger will subside.” He paused, his expression serious. “Ai, Pen-ii, for all I was trying to stop you, as ever you have proved yourself to be as strong-willed as Father always said you were.”

“Hey, that is not fair!”

“Is it not? You showed restraint, Pen-ii, and yet you were not restrained enough. It took all your strength of will to not speak at first, and yet you did speak in the end and spoke in a manner ill-befitting the one whom you were addressing. If you had taken time to ask him what had occurred, he could have explained it to you, and there would have been no need for you to have raged at him as you did. There are times when, no matter how angry you are, you must still keep a level head.”

“There speaks the seasoned warrior, Pen-ii, and he is right. In battle if you let your passion run away with you, that is when you make mistakes. You must channel that rage, focus it, take control of it rather than have it control you.”

“It is all very well for you to talk,” Penny muttered. “I imagine you have had training in such things.”

“That is true, Pen-ii,” Halladan conceded.

“And I think I should point out that not that long ago I would have simply shouted and sworn at him.”

“As you did to Father?”

“Well… yes, frankly.”

Halladan and Arvain smiled.

“I realise that what I have said is dreadful, Halladan. I do not need you to point it out to me.”

“Do you not? What are friends for if not to advise each other even if the other does not wish to hear it?”

There was something in his look as he said this and the near hint of a smile round his mouth that made Penny wonder if he was still talking about her outburst or about something else entirely. Arvain also caught his brother’s look and furrowed his brows for a moment but said nothing.

“Not only that…” Halladan paused and suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. “This is as much my fault as anyone else’s. I should not have told you.”

“No! I am glad I know! Besides… he wanted you to tell me, did he not? He asked you to.”

“I could have better chosen my moment to do so, though. I simply thought, since I was discussing what else he had said…”

He trailed off and looked helplessly at his brother. For once he did not seem entirely the self-confident, older sibling he usually was.

“I can understand,” Arvain said quietly and Halladan looked grateful.

Penny could understand as well, or guess at the possibly unconscious reasons behind it. To have delayed discussing it would have meant Halladan would have had to take himself back to that scene, that moment of his father’s death for a second time. She could not blame him for wanting to say it all when he had had the chance.

“This is not your fault, Halladan,” she said.

“Well, I apologise nonetheless. I will also do so to Lord Elrond and explain as best I can.”

“Do you think I should go and apologise to him now?”

“No!”

Both brothers spoke simultaneously, and with such urgency that Penny was worried. Was Elrond really that angry? She looked at the slightly alarmed expressions on their faces and had her answer.

Oh crap.

Her face fell.

“I shall go and find King Elessar or Mithrandir,” Halladan said, “and tell them you wish to apologise at the soonest opportunity. They will be able to suggest when would be the best time to broach it. Perhaps it will be tonight, perhaps tomorrow. I cannot tell you.”

“Would… would one of you be there with me?”

The brothers exchanged a glance.

“It would be better if you did this alone, Pen-ii,” Arvain said.

“Well, yes, but…” She was genuinely scared Elrond would never forgive her.

“I will come with you,” Halladan said.

“We both will,” Arvain added. “Even if we have to stay outside the door.”

So that was that.

Halladan hurried off down the steps to seek out Aragorn or Gandalf. Arvain and Penny came to sit at the top of the stairs and for a little while they said nothing. Then Arvain spoke.

“Can I ask you something, Pen-ii? Now that this is all out in the open? When you knew of Father, that he would not survive the War, what did you know exactly? Does your tale tell of his fall? Of how it happened? I know your knowledge is quite detailed at times.”

“All I knew was that your father held the standard, the one Queen Arwen had made for King Elessar, as you rode onto the Pelennor from the ships. He is then listed amongst only a few names of warriors who would never return home once the battle was over. I knew the battle and that was all.”

She glanced at Arvain and he nodded as he stared out onto the square. She was not sure quite what he had expected her to say or how he now felt about what she had told him.

“It was one of the things Lord Elrond pointed out to me: my knowledge could not aid him in any way. I did not know when it would occur within the battle, what enemy would…”

She trailed off. This was not a good idea to talk about these things with someone who, as far as she knew, witnessed the whole thing.

“We protected him to the last, Pen-ii.”

“I know. Faelon told me.”

“He died knowing we had won the battle. He died peacefully.”

Had he? Had he really? Or was that just Arvain hoping he had and trying to reassure her?

“I am glad.”

What else could she say?

They fell back into silence, each one lost in their thoughts. It was getting late, and normally Penny would be thinking of going to bed, but despite being tired she was also desperate to try and sort this out.

As it was, Halladan was soon back saying he had found Gandalf and his considered opinion was that they let Elrond rest overnight to allow him time to calm down, reflect on the incident and be able to look at things objectively in the morning. Penny’s head dropped to her knees because she knew if he was saying that, Elrond was very probably still absolutely livid and, for all she knew, busy ranting and calling her every name under the sun.

“I hardly think that is likely,” Halladan protested.

Penny was not so sure.

For very obvious reasons she was somewhat subdued when she arrived at her chambers. Mireth and Eleniel could tell something was amiss, but she would not be drawn, saying it was tiredness and nothing more. She did not fall asleep for a long time. She just stared at the wall with her stomach churning and her brain replaying the scene over and over and over until she nearly felt sick. Even when she did finally lapse into unconsciousness, her worry and stress invaded her dreams so she was restless and waking up every half hour, or so it seemed. At last she gave up all pretence, got dressed just as dawn was breaking and left the chambers before Mireth or Eleniel could stop her.

She had half hoped Halladan might have been taking one of his ‘avoiding sleep walkabouts’ when she emerged into the courtyard, but there was no sign of him. She sat by the fountain for a little while, letting her hand trail in the water, and then slowly wandered over to the embrasure in the wall on top of the massive spike of rock that faced east.

At some point a little over an hour later, as people slowly made their way to the Hall for breakfast, Mireth and Lindir came over to her, asking her if she was to join them. She said she was not hungry, thanking them and apologising but saying she wanted to be alone for a while. They nodded, smiled and left her to it, though Mireth did look concerned.

“Is anything amiss, Pen-ii?”

“Oh, I am just thinking.” She saw Mireth’s look. “Really, I am fine, Mireth.”

Mireth did not look convinced. She also noted her question went unanswered, but respected Penny’s request and followed Lindir to the Hall.

For a little while there was some bustle in the courtyard and then it all fell quiet once more, with just the odd servant or Citadel guard criss-crossing the wide open space. Pen-ii stared out at the Pelennor and the mountains of Mordor beyond. She was not even sure what was running through her brain. She was just waiting: waiting for what would have to be one of the most grovelling apologies she had ever had to make in her life and what would probably be a right royal dressing down from a furious warrior ellon (who would have every right to refuse to allow her anywhere near his household again) and that was if she was lucky. In the meantime she pondered on how much she had screwed up and how she was, through no one else’s fault but her own, now likely enough stuck in this bloody city for who knew how long.

“Lady Pen-ii?”

She froze. Then slowly turned and looked up. She swallowed.

“Lord Elrond! I…I…”

“I understand you have something you wish to say to me?”

She could not tell if he was still angry or not. His voice was calm but cool, his face expressionless.

“Yes.” She quickly got to her feet, aware that she was still sitting while he was standing. She smoothed her skirts, suddenly unable to look him in the face.

“Well?”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“What I said to you last night… was outrageous. I apologise with all my heart. I was upset and shocked by what Halladan had just told me. It is no excuse, I know, but it might better explain why… Halbarad… Halbarad only told him as he lay dying, so even he, Halladan, I mean, did not know the circumstances surrounding it all. You were right, I should have stopped to think, and I did not. I should have stopped to consider who you are and your character. I grossly misjudged you, and for that I am truly sorry.”

She stared at his feet the entire time she spoke.

There was a pause and then a heavy sigh.

“You upset me greatly, Pen-ii.”

“I know.”

“You disappointed me also.”

Okay, that one cut like a knife.

“I had expected better of you. You forgot who you were speaking to, forgot how much I cared for Halbarad, failed to consider how much pain such a situation would have caused me.”

She nodded. “I know.” Her voice cracked a little.

“After all the kindness I have shown you.”

Penny closed her eyes. It was so hard hearing this.

“I was saddened, Pen-ii, that in so brief an instant your opinion of me could sink so low.”

Ow, ow, ow.

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” she said quietly, nearly in tears, “how much I bitterly regret last night. You have only ever treated me with kindness and respect, and you did not deserve to be spoken to in such a manner.”

There was a brief silence.

“And I am sorry about referring to…”

“Please,” he said hurriedly, holding up one hand. “I was as much to blame as you. I let my anger and my surprise at your behaviour and accusations get the better of me. I should not have pressed you as I did.”

‘Even so,’ Penny thought. She could almost hear Halladan saying it.

“Will you not even look at me?”

She looked up to find that, even if he was not smiling, his face was not unkind. It had a softness about it that had not there before. He considered her for a moment and then shook his head.

“Ah, Pen-ii,” he said, walking past her to the seat in the embrasure and sitting down. He gestured to her to join him and she did so. “You need to curb that temper of yours, it does you no credit. For all that what you said to Lady Sidhwen was correct, you should not have said it or certainly not in the manner you chose to do so. And as for last night…”

She looked at her hands in her lap.

“You were right, Pen-ii, I have known what it is to carry the burden of mortality, if not for myself then for others.”

She could not bear to look at him.

“I am glad, perhaps, that their stories are considered sympathetically. However it was most presumptuous of you to mention such things to me, let alone in such a way and at such at time. More than that, my wife had nothing to do with the point you were making, and for you to mention Arwen’s choice…” His voice had become dark. “Do you not think I am aware of it every day while we are here, given she is now married, given we will soon say our farewells?”

She looked up at him then and could see the pain in his face.

“But no matter.” He looked away abruptly, out to the Pelennor. “You were angry and, since you did not fully understand the situation, I can understand your rage, though frankly you should know me well enough by now to have realised at the time that your anger was entirely misplaced. However,” he turned back towards her, “I accept your apology.” There was a forced, thin smile and she knew for all he might forgive he would not forget, but then nor would she. “It was well said and I can sense that your distress, guilt and shame are genuine enough.” He looked at her a little more keenly. “I should perhaps also add, since you no longer blaming me, that you should not now blame yourself.”

Penny could not quite look him in the eye.

“No doubt that is why Halbarad wished you to know: that it was as I said to you it would have been – he made his choice in spite of his knowledge. He would have ridden south no matter what he faced, as would any of those who rode with him. He did not want you to feel responsible for his choice, a choice that he made himself in full knowledge of the consequences. Did it not occur to you that given he had some foresight, perhaps he wanted to know? Wanted to prepare? Why else would he burden his sons with knowledge of this strange woman he had met and taken under his wing?” He paused. “Let us put this matter behind us, Pen-ii. Perhaps I should have told you I had spoken to him, and if so, then forgive me, since I can guess it came as something of a shock to you. I only… I only wished to alleviate some of the burden that you seemed determined to take upon yourself.”

“I realise that. I thank you for being so considerate. Truly.”

“Well, then, that is an end to it.” He stood. “But let me say this, Pen-ii, as an advice, if not a warning: learn to control your emotions better and to think before you act or speak. It may be you do not know all the facts, or have missed something that should be obvious to you in your train of thought. Never jump to conclusions. Always take someone’s previous character and actions into account. You may find others less forgiving than I if you make a habit of this.”

His face was not unkind, but it was stern and left Penny in no doubt that this was, in effect, the telling off moment. She was amazed he was being so calm about it. She nodded.

“Yes, Lord Elrond. I thank you for your kindness.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

She was a little thrown by the complete change of subject and when she looked at him she could see he was trying to seem his usual self with her. His eyes did not seem quite as warm as they usually were, though, but then she could have been imagining it. She shook her head in reply to his question.

“You should try and eat. Do not worry, Pen-ii, I am no longer angry or upset. I understand what happened and you have apologised. We need never mention it again.”

A slightly warmer smile this time, and she attempted a nervous one back.

“There. All is as it should be. I will leave you now. There is much to be done given we leave in two days. And you have Halladan to thank, by the way. He accosted me on my way out from breakfast and made it clear you wished to speak to me, though Mithrandir said as much late last night as well. I will see you later, Pen-ii.”

She inclined her head and murmured her gratitude once more as he left.

She could not quite believe it. He had been kind, generous and thoroughly decent when he would have had every right to have read her the riot act. Of course, this was Elrond, ‘kind as summer’ Elrond, but even so Penny was still a little taken aback. That said, of course, he had made it clear in no uncertain terms just how much she had crossed the line. He had been generous, but also had expressed his anger and disappointment in her. The latter had hurt her deeply, though she knew well enough she had deserved it. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that Imladris was not really an option any longer, if only because she would feel so awkward accepting hospitality from someone she had been so rude to, who clearly felt she had, effectively, thrown back all his kindness in his face in that one moment. Time would tell, perhaps. She had not dared mention Imladris to him, nor did she think she would have the courage to do so any time soon, either. She realised, with a heavy heart, she had better start getting used to the idea of possibly staying in Gondor after all.

She glanced up to see a few people in the courtyard, no doubt having just left breakfast. She could see Erestor coming to meet Elrond and a few other people she recognised looking her way. No doubt some would wonder what their talk had been about. Not much she could do about that.

She had just spotted Halladan on the steps up to the Hall of Feasts when she realised he had glanced in Elrond’s direction, and then stood, beginning to make his way over to her. Given she could also see Eleniel and Mireth heading her way, she decided to walk to meet him rather than have the two ellith beat him to it. They met on the edge of the courtyard.

“So?”

“He was most gracious and kind. Far more than I deserved.”

“Did I not tell you he would be?”

But they were interrupted before she could tell him any more of what had gone on.

“Could Lord Elrond not even persuade you to have breakfast, Pen-ii?” Eleniel laughed as she joined them.

“I am not hungry.” Penny smiled.

“Are you sure there is nothing amiss, Pen-ii? You do not seem your usual self.” Mireth was still worried about her friend.

“I think, with our moment of leaving coming soon, Pen-ii is worrying about her decision of where she will stay,” Halladan replied.

“Oh?” Mireth looked at Penny.

“Yes, that is true. I have been thinking about it a lot more recently. I have been trying not to think about it for all this time and suddenly I realise I need to make a decision.”

“Not straight away,” Eleniel said with a smile. “Is that all that is worrying you? You should have said! I imagine Lord Elrond had some words of wisdom for you, did he not?”

“Y-yes,” Penny said hesitantly, not looking at them.

“Well, then, we have just the thing to keep your mind off it.” Mireth beamed and linked arms with Penny. “We had the idea we would take you to buy something today. Since we leave soon it may be your last opportunity and I know how set you were on doing this.” Mireth was clearly very pleased with her and Eleniel’s plan. “You still want a memento of this place, do you not? If you choose not to stay here?”

Penny felt a weight in her stomach. What would be the point of getting a keepsake now?

“I was thinking we could go and see the glassblowers,” Eleniel suggested. “After all it is very fine work they do, and unique to the city.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Halladan agreed. “I might join you. I could do with the walk.”

“What is this? Making plans? You have your lesson, Pen-ii, do not forget.” Erestor had wandered over to them and was smiling broadly.

So the others said they would meet her after her Westron lesson, and Penny went off with Erestor. As they walked side by side across the square, Penny was half waiting for him to say something to her, either about her not being at breakfast or about the previous evening directly. He was a close confidante of Elrond’s and, if anyone knew about last night outside of those who witnessed it, then he would, and yet he did not say a word. Even throughout the lesson he made no reference to it – oblique or otherwise – and was he usual affable self.

Either he was making a very good show of not referring to it or else he genuinely did not know. Whichever was the case, it made Penny feel much better about the whole thing.

Waiting for her in the square afterwards were Halladan, Mireth and Eleniel, as they had promised. Lindir was chatting to them but explained he would not be coming on the shopping trip.

“Thanks to you, Pen-ii, I have to meet with one of Istdor’s scribes. There are only two days left and there is still much they want to make a record of.”

“Perhaps someone should suggest Istdor travel with the King as far as the Gap of Rohan,” Mireth replied. Penny could not help but grin along with the others.

“Don’t you dare!” Lindir wagged his finger at Mireth.

“It would keep Rhimlath quiet,” Eleniel pointed out.

“And there would be no escape from either of them,” Lindir retorted. He paused then turned and looked at Penny. “What, no quip from you, young madam?”

“Mireth beat me to it,” she said, smiling, but it was clear even to Lindir that she was slightly out of sorts still.

“The sooner we find you something pretty to take back to Imladris, the better,” Mireth said, taking Penny’s hand and dragging her off to the gate. Penny let her pull her away, but at the same time she really wished Mireth would not keep mentioning what she suspected was an increasingly unlikely proposition.

It was not only that, though, that made her a little subdued as they wandered slowly down through the circles.

This would be the first time she had been in the First Circle since the mugging and she was not looking forward to it. Having such good friends with her helped enormously and all three were telling stories, joking and laughing till pretty soon she was in the spirit of the thing. She was nervous the first time they crossed the square, but having Halladan beside her and the two ellith chattering away at her to distract her helped to keep her mind off it and she ended up crossing it several more times. In some ways it was perhaps a little easier given it looked so very different without all the market stalls around, though it was still a hive of activity nonetheless.

She studiously avoided the side of the square where the alley was, though, but that was perhaps understandable.

Mireth had brought Penny’s money purse with her (though Halladan made a point of insisting he keep hold of it), and between them the three managed to guide Penny round the various cratfsmen’s workshops so she could decide on what she wanted.

She bought only one small item in the end.

“Are you sure that is all you want?”

“There is nothing I truly need, Eleniel. As you said, this is more to remind me of my time here in Gondor if it turns out I shall head back to the north.”

It was purely ornamental: a glass vase, no more than five inches high, but with a wide base and bowl. It was a very bright green and had white swirls blown into it. She had suggested a leather hair tie, as she had first considered some days previously – one of those that was an oval shape and with a stick running through it. Her hair was that much longer these days and having such a contraption would be useful. The others had protested, insisting that such things were easily made and any one of them could make her as many as she needed. Even Halladan agreed.

Buying the vase had been ‘interesting,’ for want of a better word.

After much nudging and encouragement from Eleniel, Penny had hesitantly tried her limited Westron to at least make a start on the transaction by herself. However, she had quickly become mired in confusion the moment the man started insisting she could have the vase for practically nothing.

Apparently going shopping with two elves and a Dunadan in tow worked wonders.

They all protested, of course, at which point a strange ‘reverse-haggling’ process took place in which the man insisted he would accept nothing more than some ridiculously small amount and Halladan insisted just as forcefully that it must be worth no less than a far larger amount. Eventually they met in the middle somewhere, Penny finally handed over a coin and got a few silver ones in return, and honour was satisfied all round.

It had been nothing if not a palaver, though.

At lunch Penny was wary, again wondering how many might know of what had transpired the night before with Lord Elrond, but it soon became clear that no one outside of that immediate circle who had witnessed it would ever be any the wiser. Or else, they were keeping it to themselves.

King Eomer was expected the following day, and the previous evening at supper, though Penny did not know it, a messenger from Dol Amroth had partaken of the victuals on offer. He had come with word that Prince Imrahil was due the following day, and in fact during lunch word quickly spread that ships flying the Dol Amroth standard had been seen on the river, already nearing the quay at Harlond.

An excited crowd gathered in the square, the King and Queen among them as a party was got together to head down to give an official welcome consisting of nobles from Minas Tirith, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel, Gandalf as well as the King and Queen, obviously.

Penny was aware that she had not spoken to Celeborn, Gandalf or Aragorn since last night – she had not seen them to do so, nor was now the time. With guests arriving she wondered if she would get any opportunity any time soon.

As the welcoming committee headed off towards the gate, Arvain and Lindir spotted Penny and dragged her off with them to a vantage point in the south-facing part of the wall so they could watch as the Prince arrived. He had come with a small company of men, and it was quite impressive, even from a distance, with the sun gleaming off their mail and the spears and shields brandished.

The party took their time to come up the hill through the city, and she had promised Meresel she would go and visit her. As she crossed the square to head down to her house she spotted Durion scurrying across the square, bustling maidservants in front of him.

“Did I not tell you the chambers in the East Wing! Hurry! Hurry! He will be here at any moment! And you…” He had pointed a finger at a rather startled guard as he had passed by them. “Would you please send a message to Lord Faramir that I only have room for twenty men here in the upper circles if I am to house who knows how many Rohirrim come tomorrow evening…”

She chuckled and shook her head. Poor Durion. He would probably be glad to see the back of them all.

A little while later, at Meresel’s house, the children came running to say that the welcoming committee with Prince Imrahil and various nobles from Dol Amroth were passing by the house. They went out to watch, part of the crowd that lined the streets cheering and giving the Prince the welcome he deserved given he had fought alongside them all, indeed had taken charge of the Gondorian troops for a time on the field. Penny only caught a glimpse of him, though, and it was not until supper she managed to see him properly.

He did not look his sixty-three years, and while it was certainly clear he was a generation older than Faramir, Penny could immediately see the Numenorean and elvish bloodline in him. Indeed, Faramir bore a striking resemblance to his uncle and when they, Aragorn and various Dunedain and elves were all grouped together, it was quite an impressive sight.

Gandalf made a point of introducing Penny to him, and he was most gracious, but clearly did not see her as anything other than another young lady of the court and Penny did not speak more than a few words to him. The men who had travelled with him, though, were all those who had fought on the Pelennor and were well known to most there. Penny was introduced to several by Halladan, Arvain and Faelon who spoke highly and warmly of their southern kin. It amused Penny no end to learn Rhimlath was particularly taken by the men from Dol Amroth, declaring them to be closest in kin to the elves themselves thanks to the elvish blood that ran in their veins.

“You can always tell,” he muttered to her. “Such a purity and nobility of spirit cannot fail to manifest itself.”

Penny knew he was right, but she still rolled her eyes none the less. It was just so typically Rhimlath.

All the while, though, she was conscious of something having changed. Whether it was in herself and purely imagined, she was not sure. She felt shy, suddenly, of talking outright to Aragorn, Celeborn or Elrond. Even Gandalf, when he had insisted on introducing her, had said little to her.

“I am glad you have apologised. It was the right thing to do.”

That was all he had managed to say to her. He had smiled kindly at her, but Penny still felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. She spent most of the evening outside in the square with Halladan, for once not pushing him to go and dance. Indeed at one point he suggested they go and take a turn around the floor and when she looked hesitant it was his turn to be insistent.

“It will take your mind off things,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

She allowed him to do so, and then found several others insisting they take a turn and she could not refuse. She left as quickly as she could in the end, since it seemed the only way to escape it. She tried to have an early night, but had only another restless sleep with vivid dreams once more.

The next morning preparations had to be made. They were leaving the next day, and King Eomer was expected sometime in the evening. Washing had been done earlier in the week, so as little as possible would be needed to be washed and dried today. For Penny it was just one dress and one shift. She would wear today what she would wear tomorrow and for the next few days. They went to the washing stoop straight after breakfast to give as much time as possible for their clothes to dry afterwards. Erestor had agreed she could have her lesson after lunch instead. There was a light drizzle as they made their way down, and Penny worried they would have to take damp clothes with them, but the sun was back out by the time they were hanging out their washing and it soon dried.

She spent the rest of the morning with Istdor immersed in books. It was her last chance, after all.

Lunch was a strange affair, with the men from Dol Amroth milling about and a general buzz in the air as everyone geared up towards leaving. The hobbits were both happy to be finally thinking of going home, but sad also, Pippin in particular.

As she made her way across the courtyard with Erestor for her lesson, she noticed the Dunedain were gathering in a group, looking more serious and grim than usual. Neither Arvain or Faelon had said anything to her at lunch, though she had sat near both of them. Now she thought of it, though, Penny realised they had both been quite quiet, a little more subdued than normal throughout the meal, Arvain especially.

Erestor saw her looking at them with some curiosity.

“They are heading to the burial mounds. To say their farewells.”

Penny felt a cold sadness somewhere in her chest. As she watched, Arvain happened to catch her eye. He held her gaze for a moment, gave her a sad smile, and then turned away.

After her lesson there was no sign of the Dunedain anywhere. Even when one or two finally surfaced in the Seventh Circle, she did not see Arvain or Halladan for quite some time. When she did, they were both looking a little haggard and drawn. She wondered if it bothered them that there had been no time to ride to Hirvell’s grave, or if they would have even wanted to do such a thing. She suspected Halladan probably would not.

Then, late in the afternoon, just as the previous day, word spread that the eored was in sight of the city. Again a greeting party was made ready and headed off down towards the city gate, while Penny, Eleniel, Meresel, Lindir and several others stood by the embrasure on the spit of rock facing East and watched their approach. The sun flashed off helm and spear point, the shields gleamed and the banners of a white horse on a green field were held high. Eomer rode in front of his one hundred and fifty men, tall and proud. Behind them came a wain, no doubt to carry Theoden’s body, and those in charge of the supplies.

As Penny watched, she wondered what it would be like for Halladan to be surrounded by those he had fought with once more. It would be easier, perhaps, to be finally leaving the places where the battle had raged, but any easing of his stress might only be cancelled out by the familiar faces, the amount of battle tales that would no doubt be told round the campfires, by the memories, the scars, those suffering just like him.

She sighed heavily.

It seemed she might not be the only one with a rough few days ahead of her.

Author's Note:

Thanks, as ever to all those reading this, let alone those who take time out to leave a review or comment. The last chapter generated a lot of interest, feedback and discussion - all of which was fascinating and much appreciated.

Please note, the reference to Beregond and his saying farewell to Pippin in this chapter is now cut. It makes more sense that he would travel with Faramir to Rohan. With thanks to Lindelea. :)

Chapter 37 – “Dead Man Walking”

That evening there was a great feast, but it was utterly different from that which had been laid on for the wedding. For a start the food, while sumptuous, was not quite as rich and laden with cream and spices as before. Penny was not the only one to wonder at it, given the two high-ranking guests that were among them as well as it being the final farewell for the elves and Dúnedain. Milves had muttered something as she had been helping them get water ready for bathing that afternoon, but Penny had only partially understood it. Something about elves getting underfoot in the kitchens and certain people would be glad to see the back of them.

“Not that I include myself among them, you understand. Dear me, no! It has been a truly wonderful thing to have had you all here, my dears, but I think you will understand me when I say that one or two have been over-free with their advice and, while they mean well, I have no doubt, the Head Cook… well, she is a very good friend of mine, and to say she does not take criticism well would be an understatement.”

Later, the full story slowly emerged amid the gossiping and whispering around the Hall.

Just as elves had been busy investigating every nook and cranny of the city, the kitchens had also been part of the tour. Just as Istdor had been ‘advised’ on ‘errors’ in his tomes, and various carpenters or silversmiths had been generously shown how to ‘improve’ their technique, so the cooks had also had to deal with elvish cooks keen to learn new recipes and see how they dealt with these strange ingredients brought up from the southlands. At the same time they lifted every lid on every saucepan, rummaged through ingredients, watched over shoulders, tasted, and, of course, made ‘helpful suggestions’ on how to make recipes that had been handed down from generation to generation of Gondorians ‘infinitely better’ when no one had complained about them before.

No one begrudged them, exactly; they were too gracious and kind for anyone to feel ill-will towards them. Not only that but they spoke with the wisdom of millennia behind them, so much of what they had to say and teach was of huge benefit.

However, that said, there were some that could be rather supercilious in their attitude and seem dismissive of mortal abilities and knowledge (as Penny had herself experienced), and that certainly could irritate those with less patience. The Galadhrim in particular were a little rusty in terms of human/elf interaction, though they little realised it (nor would have cared terribly much had they known). It had to be said that Rhimlath was not unique, though he was perhaps at one end of the extreme.

Thus, in a fit of pique, the Head Cook, with gritted teeth and a dangerous smile had indeed ‘toned down’ some of the dishes as had been helpfully suggested. She did, however, make a point of deliberately cooking a fish soup with exactly too much pepper and cumin in it, since fish soup had been declared a favourite dish by a particularly vocal Galadhrim as he had wandered around her kitchen, poking his long nose into all of her pots. She would have no doubt been hugely gratified to learn that said elf had tucked in with gusto, only to then grimace, cough hugely and gasp for water.

There were speeches at the end of the meal. Long speeches about heroes and nobility, about all that had been suffered and lost in the face of terrible evil, and yet how a new era filled with hope and peace had dawned. Years of happiness stretched before them all. They would mourn and toast the dead, and be eternally grateful to them for their sacrifice.

Baritone murmurs rumbled through the hall as cups were raised, and Penny became aware just how outnumbered the women were for once.

Indeed the sense of ‘maleness’ continued even afterwards. There was some dancing, but not enough female partners for all, so the bulk of people were drinking or telling tales and singing songs. Penny noted that Halladan did not get to spend any time outside, since he was forever having his arm clasped by one of the Rohirrim or his back slapped by a man from Dol Amroth, dragged into conversations, called upon to fill in details of stories or listen to songs. Towards the end of the evening he had a decidedly strained look about him, and when Arvain tried to refuse to refill his tankard he got a fearsome glare by way of response.

In the meantime, however, Penny had little chance to consider the situation, since she barely stopped all night. The female Galadhrim tended to be slightly more reserved in their choice of dance partners, which limited the choices still further for the male guests, and Penny found herself dancing with complete strangers several times. The Rohirrim were always slightly surprised at her mangled and limited Westron, but polite enough. Elfhelm made a point of coming over to her and expressing his delight to see she was much improved from the state she had been in when she had left Rohan. She felt slightly shy that he had remembered her and it was only afterwards that Arvain explained that Elfhelm had actually asked about her.

“That strange woman travelling with the elves – the one who spoke no Mannish tongue and left us in a state near to death.”

Penny was not sure if she was pleased he had worried about her and asked after her, or faintly put out at still being considered some sort of travelling weirdo.

Every time she met Elrond, or caught his eye, he smiled and nodded his head in his usual way, but Penny noted she never got to speak to him. No doubt he was busy with all the guests, but she could not help but wonder if he was avoiding having too much to do with her for the time being. She would not blame him in the least if that was the case. She tried to put it out of her mind as Corunir, Meresel’s relative (her husband’s cousin whom Penny had seen at the wrestling), held out his hand and insisted it was his turn for a dance.

She had met Corunir several times of late at Meresel’s house. He was often there collecting something or dropping off a present for the kids, his visits to the house just so happening to coincide with Penny’s own. He would invariably slouch down into a chair, fix that ‘ever-so-slightly-too-wide’ grin on Penny and engage her in conversation. Meresel would quickly shoo him out of the house, reminding him he had things he should be doing. This was the first time he had danced with her, though. Penny was not sure why she felt uncomfortable with him, and put it down to the fact that, although she now knew he was only a month or two off twenty, he looked about eighteen to her. That and he still reminded her of her brother rather too much. It was the arrogant cockiness, the self-assured smile, the assumption, for example, that when they had finished their dance she would of course follow him to get a cup of wine and to meet his friends.

He seemed most put out when Faelon grabbed her hand instead and pulled her off in the opposite direction for a dance.

She did, however, make a point of prising Istdor away from Rhimlath and asking if he would have a slow, sedate dance with her. Istdor seemed rather pleased at the request, even if he protested it had been some years since he had done this sort of thing. She insisted, though. Given the current situation, it was highly likely she would be back in a month or so, but she never knew if it might not be the last time she saw him, and he certainly enjoyed his gentle spin round the hall with Penny on his arm.

Eomer was making his presence known, talking to many there and laughing heartily with most. It was only much later, as she was climbing into bed, that Penny realised that when she had seen him and Gimli in earnest conversation, she probably knew what the topic of conversation had been. She could not help but smile.

The next morning was an early one. Packing was done and servants were busily scurrying back and forth across the square with bags and provisions from early light. There was a rather tearful farewell from Milves. Penny did point out she might be back, and one or two of the ellith would be returning with Arwen (Eleniel amongst them), but Milves still insisted she would miss them all dreadfully and she knew she was being a daft old coot, but there they were, she was a softie at heart and no mistake.

She insisted on giving hugs and kisses to them all, as well pressing a huge basket of freshly baked white cakes on them and then cried all over again when several of the ellith gave her little gifts – trinkets or pieces of cloth.

Penny had assumed they would go straight down to the First Circle and get saddled up, but no. After breakfast there was a great milling about in the courtyard and the atmosphere was rather muted. Then there was a great blowing of trumpets and Aragorn, Eomer, Faramir, Merry and various Gondorian and Rohirric nobles and lords made their way to the door that lead down to the Rath Dínen and the Houses of the Dead.

They bore an empty bier with them.

The tone was sombre, the chatter quiet and subdued in the crowd as everyone waited; and when they at last returned, now with a man-like shape underneath a cloth of gold lying on the bier, an absolute silence fell.

The crowd parted before them as Aragorn and Eomer walked side by side and in front of the body of Theoden. Men bowed their heads, some put their hands to their breasts, and even the elves were visibly moved. As the bier made its way through the gate and down to the Sixth Circle, slowly everyone followed behind.

The people of Minas Tirith came out of their houses to watch them leave, but chiefly to pay their respects to the fallen king. There was no shouting, no waving, no singing, no cheering. It was utterly unlike their arrival, Penny noted, when all of Minas Tirith had been agog and in rapture at the presence of so many elves and at the elleth who would be their queen. Now the only sounds were the occasional murmur from the crowd. Even children were stilled – if one ran out of a house, or tried to play with another, adult arms and hands intervened, holding them in place with a whispered rebuke.

Once out of the main gate, the great wain that had arrived with the Rohirrim stood waiting to receive its cargo. The Rohirrim lined up on either side, forming an entrance way to it as Theoden was carried down the aisle of warriors and gently placed inside it. Then the ties holding the flaps back were loosed and the shrouded form was hidden from view. The men who had formed the entrance way slowly made their way to stand in formation around the wain, guarding their King even in death.

The tone lightened then, if only by a little. Talk was still quiet as the horses were readied, though the baggage had already been packed, so little needed to be done.

Meresel and Penny had a strange farewell. Penny reminded Meresel she may well be coming back to the city in a few weeks but Meresel insisted she would not be surprised if Penny returned north.

“After all, who would wish to leave such company?” she said, gesturing round them to the elves nearby, many already mounted on their steeds or making their last farewells to various Gondorians milling around. “And besides,” she added quietly, gently taking hold of Penny’s hand with a soft smile, “I think you feel more at home in their company than ours. Gondor… is not best suited to you, I do not think. You would be most welcome and you have made good friends here, you know that, but I think you would agree with me, would you not?”

Penny nodded but could not quite look Meresel in the eye. Meresel considered her for a moment.

“It is strange, but there are times when you feel younger than me.”

Penny looked at her and saw she was smiling kindly, that she had meant no insult by it: it had been a mere observation. Penny had to admit she was probably right. Her emotional instability, her lack of control or self-assurance probably did seem immature to some. Of course, a large part of that had been brought on precisely by being here in this place and seeing the damage the War had wrought.

“It is a shame you cannot travel with us,” she said.

“Ah, but my boys need me. They will miss their father, of course, but Fimorndír has been on tours of duty before now, so they are used to him being away for weeks at a time. Thankfully it will be a less frequent occurrence in future than it has been in recent years. That is something for which I am truly thankful.”

“Of course.”

“He has promised to bring them something back from Rohan with him. Daggers or some such I suspect,” she added with a weary sigh. “Something completely impractical for them at their still tender years and which he will no doubt insist on letting them use when I am not aware of it.”

Penny laughed and Meresel smiled. She then went on to make it clear that Penny would always be welcome in her home, that her sons would miss their new friend. In spite of Penny’s protests she was behaving as if Penny would not be returning to Gondor any time soon.

“And I wanted to give you this,” she continued, pulling something from her hand. “No, no, do not refuse it, I insist. It is only a little thing, perhaps, but it shall be a token of our friendship.”

It was a silver ring, the band intricately crafted to look like intertwined leaves with a single, small green stone set into it. Penny thought it was exquisite, and told Meresel so, thanking her profusely. She apologised that she had nothing to give her in return… until she thought of the little vase she had bought.

“No, you keep that. I know you bought it as a keepsake.”

“Then I shall get you something when I return, or else send you something from the North.”

Meresel smiled. “I would like that very much.”

“And I shall write. If I can… Does one do that?”

Meresel’s smile broadened. “Please do. I would love to hear your news and how you fare. I so rarely get letters, so it would be something indeed.”

So that was settled, even though Penny considered it a rather hollow promise given she did not doubt that she would see Meresel in a month or so, but no matter. She was most touched by her gift and what it represented. Meresel had shown her nothing but kindness and warmth during her stay in the city, and she would never forget it. The ring fitted on the ring finger of her right hand very well, and in the following days Penny found that every time she glanced at it, knowing what it meant, it actually helped a little: to know that, in spite of her misgivings about Gondor and staying there, it was not a wholly dark picture and she had at least one good friend amongst the nobles there, outside of the royal couple.

Pretty soon everything was set. The funeral train was a huge one, everyone riding in their respective groups.

The Rohirrim were to lead, King Eomer in front, with the wain immediately behind him, the eored guarding it and trailing behind it. Merry was up next to the driver on the wain itself, looking more grim and serious than Penny had ever seen him, clearly determined to do Theoden proud while battling with the memories of his fall.

Next came King Elessar and Queen Arwen, their lords, ladies, nobles and guards, and the Dúnedain were included amongst these, representing as they did half of Aragorn’s realm. Pippin rode with the Gondorian guards, and the rest of the Fellowship rode with Aragorn. Gimli and Legolas shared one horse which Penny assumed was Arod, Mithrandir was riding Shadowfax, while Frodo and Sam had been found ponies suitable for their stature. Faramir was leading a group of men Penny now knew to be his personal guard, many of them now stationed in Osgiliath or else often out ‘rangering’ in Ithilien. She smiled as she spotted Beregond among them. The men from Dol Amroth were also part of this large group, and Prince Imrahil rode alongside Aragorn and Gandalf as their equal in station.

The elves followed behind the mortals, which was no indication of their being less important, far from it. It was only right that those who had fought alongside Rohan, or who represented those who had and those who owed so much to Theoden’s riding to Gondor’s aid, should follow his bier most closely. Even so, behind the elves came the supply train, made up of Rohirric and Gondorian riders and carts carrying victuals, tents and other necessities. The elves, as when they had first crossed the Pelennor and arrived at the city, were divided into those of Lothlorien and Imladris, with Penny riding with the latter for the time being though she hung back from Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel a little, finding Mireth, Celebdor and Lindir in the middle of the group somewhere. It seemed strange to be riding without Eleniel. She and two ellith from Lothlorien were riding with Arwen, since they would act as ladies-in-waiting and stay in Gondor with her for at least a year or two.

Banners were held high amongst each group, mail and helm gleamed, the horses champed. There was only a low murmur even amongst the crowds on the Pelennor and up on the ramparts on the city. This was, first and foremost, a funeral procession after all.

Then horns sounded, blown by the Rohirric riders at the front. Somewhere in the group of riders ahead of Penny, Pippin bowed his head for a moment as if overcome, but soon, nearby him, Gondorian trumpeters took up the call, only to be echoed by others within the city.

The procession began to move.

There were so many of them that it was some time before Penny actually gave her horse the command and started off. It was strangely exciting to be off on the road again, and she made a decision then and there that, no matter what she would decide at the end of it, she would enjoy this break away from the city even if it was only for a few weeks.

For a while there were no songs, only the quiet tramp of feet or horses’ hooves, the jangle of bridles or low chatter amongst the huge party that stretched out for at least a mile or more. Gondorians lined the way, silent as the wain carrying Theoden King’s body rolled past them, but slightly more vocal as those behind it rode or marched past. A few children fell in step beside their fathers in the Gondorian ranks or else, bolder now after having had nearly three weeks of elvish company, threw a last few questions at an elf they recognised in the crowd who would answer with a smile and a wave.

The pace was sedate to say the least, but it was inevitable that it would be slow going with this many people. Pretty soon, though, they were winding their way through the fields and pastures of the Pelennor, past the scars of the ditches the orcs had dug, the tumble-down ruins of houses, though there seemed a few fewer than before, or more in a state of rebuild than even three weeks ago (or so it seemed to Penny). If the ground seemed greener, the earth more fertile than it had, Penny assumed she was imagining it, though when she mentioned it to Lindir he smiled softly and shook his head at her as if she had said something faintly amusing.

She should have known: the elves had been hard at work, of course.

After an hour or so, the elves could not restrain themselves any longer and a song began. It was a slow melody that was obviously well known since it was passed back and forth from singer to singer in amongst both groups. At one point Lindir took it up and sang several verses, with others near him joining occasionally with a single alternate line, one tune weaving in and out of the other.

Even if she had not understood most of the words, Penny would have known this was a song of loss, of grief, of mortality. Like most elvish songs, you could almost feel the meaning within you, particularly if it was a moving song. It was still strange to Penny to be able to guess at a song’s meaning and know she was very likely right, but that was elves for you. It was a beautiful and fitting song to begin such a journey and the Rohirrim seemed to appreciate it, many coming to murmur their thanks when they all paused briefly for a midday meal.

By afternoon songs were being sung on a regular basis, though nothing too jolly or frivolous, for obvious reasons. For the most part it seemed as if the elves were ‘playing safe’ in their topics, and singing ballads of tales of derring-do and ancient deeds done by equally ancient elves.

They reached the Rammas Echor by early evening and did not go far before they stopped and set up camp. Tents and awnings quickly sprung up all over the place, as did several campfires. They were far too great a number to consider trying to cook and eat all as one group, so instead each fed their own. There was no great formality to it, however, and many a group had those from different realms altogether. One thing Penny noted, however, was that there was a distinct difference between the average soldier or those travelling with the supplies and the mortal nobles from Gondor and even Rohan. That several of these ‘lesser’ persons were invited to join the elves and Dúnedain was commented upon with raised eyebrows by some of the mortals, both noble and commoner alike.

Given that the Dúnedain were few in number, they joined the elves for the evening meal, even though some protested they were perfectly happy with the cured meat and cram they had in their packs. There was laughter amongst some of the Imladris elves who knew them well and threw them comments of ‘well, you can have a decent meal as you travel in the wild for once. It will not kill you, we assure you.’ Penny grinned and laughed with the rest. She had long ago learned that her experience with Habarad’s vile boiled bunny was by no means unique. Indeed she was surprised, therefore, to see Naurdir and Faelon seemed to be working in tandem.

“Ah, you see, Pen-ii, Faelon is an unusual breed,” Naurdir said with an impish smile and a wink towards his wife, “a Ranger who knows how to cook.”

“Ah, now, hold hard, Naurdir. That is a little unfair,” Faelon protested. “It is one thing to refuse to carry every vegetable known to man in a pack when out on duty and another to be unable to cook at all. Keep things light and to the minimum when travelling. Nothing wrong with that.”

Penny set to work along with Mireth helping to peel some vegetables. However, after a little while Naurdir was complaining he did not have enough water, so she offered to fill some of the watersacs, since most had run dry given the amount of use they had seen in the summer heat of a long day’s ride.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Lindir was on his feet. “Remember when we camped some way further north of here last time? There are likely to be all sorts of weapons still hidden in the long grass. I will come with you.”

Penny knew better than to argue, but Lindir need not have worried. Many were doing the same thing, and the path to the little brook nearby was already well worn. He shrugged and muttered something about coming to help carry the sacs anyway.

“So did you get all the songs transcribed that you wished to?”

Lindir gave her a look.

“Oh, come, Lindir, you found it a little flattering, you have to admit. Istdor thought your work was superb. He told you so often enough.”

Lindir’s expression softened. “Oh, I do not begrudge Master Istdor. He is a good and kind man, and he knows his lore better than Rhimlath was prepared to admit to his face.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that Rhimlath told me privately that he was impressed a ‘mere mortal’ (his words, not mine, Pen-ii) could have such detailed knowledge and have such depth and breadth of learning.”

Penny nearly said something but restrained herself. Lindir took one look at the expression on her face and laughed out loud.

As they returned to the camp, sprawled as it was over a huge area, they were met by Erestor. He was insisting Penny have a Westron lesson.

“Are you not needed by King Elessar?”

Aragorn and Arwen were to eat separately from everyone else, and several of the elite were to join them: Faramir, Eomer, Imrahil, Celeborn, Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond, Legolas and Gimli as well as a few others, Erestor amongst them.

“Not for a little while.”

“Oh, I can test her Westron for you,” Lindir said with a smile. “I’ll insist she speak nothing but Westron until we eat. How is that?”

“Lindir!”

Erestor considered for a moment and then agreed that would be no bad thing, much to Penny’s annoyance, and left them to it.

“And what makes you think I will say a word from now till supper time?” Penny muttered furiously at Lindir.

“I am sorry, did you say something? I could have sworn you were talking just now, but I did not understand you. If you try in Westron then perhaps I might…”

“Lindir…!”

“Hmm?”

“That’s it. I refuse to talk.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” he wagged a finger at her. “Westron only, Pen-ii.”

She glared at him. He beamed back and she could not help but smile begrudgingly in the end, won over by his persistent cheerfulness.

“What is this? Lindir teasing you as usual?”

“Something like that, Arvain.”

“Westron, Pen-ii!”

Penny groaned. She then threw her hands up as Arvain asked why she had to speak in Westron and, when it was explained, enthusiastically agreed. She stalked back to the elves’ campfire with the two of them throwing questions at her in Westron all the while.

Of course she got no peace. Not from either of them, or anyone else in the near vicinity who quickly understood the situation and resolutely stuck to Westron for the next hour or so. A chuckling Halladan would occasionally whisper the meaning of a word to her if she seemed completely flummoxed by something, but otherwise she coped reasonably well. But then, considering most of it involved people pointing at vegetables or implements with a questioning tone of voice as if asking her to pass them whatever it was, it was hardly complicated.

The meal done, everyone relaxed into gentle chatter. There was some story-telling and singing, but still subdued compared to how the journey south at been. Not too far away, beside the Rohirric campfires, was the wain, a huge shadow in the gathering dusk. Burning brands had been placed at its four corners and half a dozen Rohirrim soldiers were standing guard, and it would remain guarded all night and every night as they travelled.

It was turning a little colder, and Penny went to her tent to fetch a shawl. As she came out, wrapping it round her shoulders, she took stock of the camp for a moment, and decided that, yes, she was glad to be on the move again. She already felt like a great weight had been removed from her. Then her gaze fell on the royal tent, trimmed with brocade and gold, and the party still talking quietly, seated on cushions at its entrance and with golden cups filled with wine in their hands. Frodo and Sam had been invited to join them, and Penny smiled to see Sam blushing furiously as Galadriel spoke to him. Then, for the briefest of moments Elrond looked up and happened to catch sight of her, even if she was some distance from him. He inclined his head ever so slightly, a soft smile on his face, but in the flicker of the torches the smile seemed perfunctory, forced – a courtesy rather than sincere. Penny nodded her head by way of acknowledgement and quickly turned away.

The light was fading, and while the eastern sky was growing dark Penny could still make out the black line of the mountains against it. The first stars were pricking the sky, which only served to make the dark, jagged horizon stand out all the more. As Penny gazed at it, she realised she could actually make out a point where the line stopped, where the mountains ended their movement north and swung at a right angle away to the east: the point of the Black Gate.

It still seemed so strange to see it, so unreal. Even now she had met those who had fought there, who had lost loved ones there; even though she had spoken to the hobbits and heard their story, if not firsthand then through Legolas, she still could not truly imagine the bleak awfulness of what lay beyond that mountain range, nor the true horror of what many had seen or been a party to.

“It draws the eye, does it not?”

Halladan’s voice was quiet.

“It seems so insignificant, and yet…”

“Indeed.”

They fell into silence. Penny wondered if she dare ask him how he felt to leave Hirvell behind, but knew it was the last thing he would want to talk about.

“Does it feel any easier for you, to be outside of the Pelennor?”

If he was surprised by her question, he did not show it, merely looked down at the grass for a moment as if assessing how he felt, giving her question consideration.

“A little.” There was a pause. “Perhaps.”

Somewhere behind them a low song had started up. It was a mortal voice and in Sindarin, so was clearly from the Gondorian contingent. It was far enough away that Penny could not hear it clearly, but in the snatches she could catch in the breeze she recognised the words for ‘battle’ and ‘warrior’, ‘heroes’ and ‘the fallen.’ She glanced sideways at Halladan but his face was impassive. He was staring out at the line of the mountains, at the same point that she had been looking at just now. She wondered if it might be best if she left him to it.

She turned to leave, then paused beside him and gently laid a hand on his upper arm, trying to find the right words. She could think of none so gave his arm a gentle squeeze, immediately kicking herself because it seemed like such a patronising thing to do, though she not intended it to be so, and she let her hand drop away, suddenly flustered and embarrassed. She turned and started off towards the campfire.

“And you?”

She turned back towards him, to find he was looking at her.

“Me?”

“To be free of the city, to be away from the…” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I nearly said ‘memories’, but of course they are not memories to you, though they reminded you of what had been even if you had not been a witness to it.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Then she nodded slowly.

“Yes, I am glad to be gone from it. I do feel… less burdened already, if you can understand that.”

“I understand it completely.”

“I do not doubt that you do.”

She was thinking of what it would be like to have to face it all once more, to return to it, and whether it would be easier knowing what she would face or more difficult to plunge herself into it all again. She stared down at the ring on her finger, twisting and worrying at it almost unconsciously.

“If it distresses you that much, no one will force you to return,” Halladan said quietly. “You are free to make your choice. You know that.”

She nodded, saying nothing and still staring at her hands.

“You are still concerned about Lord Elrond?”

She felt ashamed to admit it. She knew what he would say: that she was being ridiculous, that she should take Lord Elrond’s words at face value when he had said that all was right between them once more.

And yet…

And yet a line once crossed was hard to return to. Even if Lord Elrond had forgiven her entirely, she could not forgive herself, or not any time soon at any rate.

She was not even aware that Halladan had closed the space between them until she felt his gentle hold upon her arm.

“You must stop taking things upon yourself so deeply. It shows sensitivity on your part, and it also shows the depth of respect you have towards those you hold dear amongst us all. There is nothing wrong in that. At the same time… you are old enough, able enough to live your life. Did not Gandalf tell you to do exactly that? To live as if you are here to stay? That you are here to stay as best as he can see? I know it is hard. I cannot imagine what it must be to walk in your shoes, but I know what it is to have your entire life turned upside down, to not be able to see a way ahead of you, to be lost in what has happened instead of facing what might be. I cannot change myself, but I would not have you do the same. I say this as a friend, Pen-ii. You have this time away from Gondor to clear you thoughts, to find your feet and make some firm decisions. You are more than capable.” He smiled softly. “You have proved that often enough in the past.”

“You say that like it is a good thing.” She chuckled slightly, shaking her head a little.

“Well, in the right place and time, and channelled in the right way, then, yes, it can be a very good thing. Or I think so.”

“What are you two doing, sulking and moping over there in the dark?” Arvain was grinning widely as he wandered up to them. “Come and join us. Naurdir has opened a keg of ale and Rhimlath is about to tell us some lengthy ballad about the battles in Arnor against the Witchking.”

“Oh yes?” Halladan seemed amused.

“Well, if Lindir will let him, that is. Lindir is most put out that Rhimlath is attempting to tell a ballad that Lindir himself wrote.”

Penny laughed. “Oh, this could be amusing.”

“Amusing or alarming, I think,” Arvain replied. “Either way it will be worth watching. Are you coming?”

“Yes, yes, of course, brother.” Halladan looked down at Penny and they shared a smile before walking slowly towards the fire, following in Arvain’s wake.

“Thank you,” Penny murmured quietly.

“Not at all. I just hope you will be able to act on what I said.”

“And I hope you will try and act on the advice I have given you in the past.”

He glanced at her and gave a weary sigh but said nothing.

The next morning, they had only journeyed a short time when they came to Amon Dîn and the Drúadan Forest. The royal trumpeters sounded, the drumming of the Drúadan in the forest reached a crescendo, and then Aragorn urged his horse forward till he stood alone a little way forward of the entire travelling party. Then he spoke loudly, so all could hear that the forest was hereby declared the domain of the Drúadan, that they would be left in peace to live their lives, by order of the King of Gondor and Arnor.

The drums fell silent, just as Penny knew they would, and the funeral train moved on, sweeping round the forest, on its way to Rohan.

The days took on the easy routine of travel that Penny had got so used to when they had travelled south. Admittedly, it was slightly different with so many others travelling with them now. There was less of a ‘communal whole’ about it all, with all the various campfires and the different meals. There was also the ever present wain with its sad burden. Merry barely left the dead King’s side, riding with the wain every day and insisting on taking a shift amongst those who stood guard every night. Similarly Pippin insisted on serving Aragorn at any opportunity, or if he had no need of him, then Faramir. Frodo and Sam joked that they hardly saw either of them, but neither did they begrudge them their newfound loyalties and duties.

It did mean, given Pippin and Merry were often on official duties of an evening, that Frodo and Sam either took their meals with Aragorn or the elves, and more often the latter. For all Sam was still slightly shy and in awe of the elves, sitting in a large group of them with Dunedain was not nearly so awkward for him as quietly sitting next to Galadriel and trying to make small talk with Celeborn while at the same time negotiating a meal.

The two hobbits were quite open about their joy at being on their way home at last, and indeed to be free of the sight of Mordor.

“I am not saying that Gondor is not a wonderful place, with its finery and goodly people, but I shall be most glad if I never see those dark peaks ever again,” Sam had said, and with some feeling.

No one blamed him in the least.

Arwen, Penny noted, spent as much time as she could with her elvish brethren. She had to ride with Aragorn, obviously, and meals were with him also, but of an evening she would wander amongst her own, Aragorn often with her also, seeking company and talking.

Elrond and her brothers hardly ever left her side at such times. It hurt Penny to see it, and she knew she was not the only one, from the sad smiles or shared knowing glances she would sometimes see around her. Everyone knew what was coming, and no one relished being in either Arwen’s or Elrond’s place when it came at last.

In fact, that very reason alone – that he was ever in Arwen’s company when they stopped or set up camp - made it difficult for Penny to find any moment when she could talk to Elrond more privately, to discern how awry their relationship may or may not be. As the days progressed, she found herself turning over the question of where she would stay in her head. It even began to invade her dreams. Standing naked and horrified in the middle of the throne room in Minas Tirith was one that had her awake in a cold sweat, but then so did the one where she had eaten all the cabbages in Imladris and Elrond was so angry he was waving an axe at her. Admittedly the axe had morphed into a stick of broccoli at some point, but it had still been an alarming dream nonetheless.

Eleniel was no longer sharing a tent with them all, since the ladies-in-waiting were in a tent beside Arwen’s; however one evening she and Mireth sat Penny down in the tent she shared with Mireth and asked what was troubling her. Mireth was aware of the bad dreams, given her bedroll was next to Penny’s, and she had told Eleniel of her concerns.

Penny, of course, could not explain the situation, given that would necessitate explaining her wariness of taking advantage of Elrond’s hospitality and the reasons for it. The ellith, therefore, only knowing the half of it, were immediately insistent she should return to Imladris.

“Gondor is not best suited to you. You struggled to fit in with their ways,” Eleniel said. “I do not blame you in the least, though I know things will change, albeit slowly, with Arwen and Estel now having a say in the matter.”

“You were happy with us in Imladris, were you not?” Mireth said, with not a little tone of hurt in her voice. “Why would you not consider Imladris an option to you? Lord Elrond has always said you were most welcome, and you are. You are a part of the place now. I shall miss you if you choose to leave us.”

Penny had smiled sadly and thanked them and merely said it was slightly more complicated than a simple choice, that she had to think of her future and where her life might lead, which was true, of course, if not the main sticking point.

She knew they were right, though: Gondor was not the place for her. Not only that, but she was aware Halladan and Arvain had committed themselves to being her guardians, and wherever she might stay would affect them. She did not doubt for one moment Halladan would not choose to stay in Minas Tirith or near the Pelennor if he could possibly help it. He had spoken of Aragorn giving them land and an income, so perhaps that would be elsewhere, towards Lebennin or Dol Amroth, maybe?

Gah, there was just so much to consider and take in that it made her head spin. And, if she were honest, just the very idea of any one of the possible options put the wind up her, because every one of them brought it home that she was here to stay, that she would have to set up a house, run a home, forever gut her own rabbits, pluck her own ducks, hand wash her own dresses, never eat chocolate again and never wear a bra.

Speaking of which…

She had decided it was a situation she could deal with no more. Okay, she was not suffering by any means, but there was only so much a pair of breasts could take and sooner or later she was going to have to do something about it. She had mentioned it to Mireth and Eleniel in Minas Tirith, who had laughed but said they were sure they could design something that would suit. Penny was acutely aware that if she chose to stay in Minas Tirith, while Eleniel was a superb seamstress, it was unlikely that, as a close confidante of the Queen, it would be ‘seemly’ for someone of her station to make unusual undergarments, let alone to do so for some jumped-up stranger who had proved herself ‘the Court Oddball’ more than once. If Penny was in Imladris, therefore, the construction of, if not a bra, then some sort of ‘supportive chemise’ would be a fair easier affair.

A small thing, perhaps, but such things matter to a girl.

With all of this rampaging backwards and forwards in her head like a troop of charging heffalumps, it was quite a nice distraction for Penny to have others than just the elves around. If she had had to travel solely with elvish company so soon after what had happened with Elrond she was not sure she could have coped, so what with that, as well as the seemingly momentous decision she had to make in the near future, to have Halladan and Arvain to distract her helped hugely. Not only that, but there were tales to be heard and stories from both Rohirrim and Gondorians that she did not know and were fascinating. Depending on the nature of the tale, Halladan was not always around to translate for her (though he could not always easily escape it), so Arvain, Lindir or Mireth would do the honours if necessary.

The only slightly sour note was that Corunir seemed to have taken it into his head to befriend them all, or to have decided he had befriended Penny at least, and was regularly in their company every night. He seemed charming enough, but Penny noticed that even the others found his presence a little wearisome, his manner overbearing and slightly too self-assured given the company he was in. When a young man still in his teens felt he could talk over the top of a Dúnadan, or make quips at the expense of an ellon he barely knew, Penny suspected she was not the only one to think him in need of being taken down a peg or two.

On the third day of travelling there were growing grumblings in the elvish camp. Going that long without bathing was considered a grave hardship, if not an outrage, and some of the Galadhrim were bordering on taking it as some sort of personal insult that arrangements could not have been made sooner. Part of the difficulty was that, while the ellyn did not need worry so much about their human travellers catching sight of them, the ellith needed an even more protected place than usual in which to try and bathe given the size of the camp and the large numbers of men travelling with them (and in particular, as was pointed out by several, given the average mortal’s inability to control themselves). This would be a golden opportunity for temptation, and the elves had not forgotten the reaction of the ladies of Gondor in trying to simply get a glimpse of them bare-chested and in their britches.

Thus what was needed was a stretch of water that was very heavily screened and could be well guarded from all angles, as well as having a suitable amount of space nearby for the female tents. It took three days before such a place could be found, and indeed they set up camp a little earlier than usual precisely because such a place had been spotted and the elves refused to move on and risk not finding another suitable place further along the water course. Riders from both groups of elves were sent forward to King Elessar and King Eomer to explain they would not go any further forward that day and why; the former understanding at once and the latter finding the whole situation rather bizarre but acquiescing nonetheless.

The tents for the women and ellith were set up all to one side, forming a barrier between the rest of the camp and the line of trees screening the water. In addition, a veritable horde of warrior ellyn made sure they guarded every possible access way to the water.

Then, and only then, could the bathing commence.

Arwen’s ladies-in-waiting were invited to join them all. They were rather hesitant, but realised it was expected of them, that Arwen was joining in and that if Penny could do it, so could they. One of them even pulled Penny aside asking would it not be a little cold, and Penny assured them that it would be as nothing compared to the mountain streams she had had to endure West of the Misty Mountains, which got some wide-eyed blinking and a mere ‘oh’ by way of response.

The few women travelling with the baggage train, as cooks and washerwomen, seemed somewhat surprised to find various ellith seeking them out and asking if they would like to join them as well. At first several shook their heads vigorously, seeing it as some strange elvish thing (“who knows what sort of strange magic they may get up to in the water”), or else something for the nobility (“we are not queens or fine ladies, what do we want with washing?”), but eventually a brave soul said ‘why not’ and the rest warily followed suit.

The men in the camp seemed somewhat torn. Curiosity was a terrible thing, but negotiating warrior ellyn seemed infinitely worse, so the few younger and unmarried ne’er-do-wells who might have been otherwise tempted managed to restrain themselves. Even so, the thought of several hundred beautiful ellith completely in the nude only a few hundred feet away meant every attempt was made to distract the men, and as well as several loud songs being sung, the ale was cracked open before supper instead of after, and the last of the ellith and ladies to return from the river found several of the men exceedingly ‘merry’ already and night not yet fallen.

The Dúnedain were the only mortal group who seemed utterly unfazed by it all, knowing elvish custom as they did. There was some shaking of heads, and muttering of ‘such a fuss about nothing’, but all said in light-hearted manner and with a grin and a chuckle.

“Even you, Pen-ii? Ai, Elbereth, if proof were needed you have been overlong in elvish company…”

Penny stuck her tongue out at Arvain and went back to combing out her hair.

“Nothing wrong with being clean, Arvain. In fact, the idea of being filthy for days at a time fills me with horror.”

Arvain and Faelon exchanged an amused glance.

“Remind me never to take you out in the wild with the Dúnedain in that case,” muttered Arvain.

“You have rivers in the North,” Penny retorted.

“When there is snow on the ground? Rather you than I, Pen-ii.” Halladan laughed.

Penny could not think of an adequate response to that, and muttered something about a stand-up wash with warmed water still being a reasonable alternative. When Halladan pointed out you would still have to put stinking travel-worn clothes on your back afterwards and Faelon wondered loudly how advisable it would be to disrobe in the snow, Penny replied that it was the principle of the thing and good to make some sort of effort, at which point Arvain hooted that she had definitely spent too long with elves if that was what she thought. Penny stomped back to her tent to finish combing her hair away from the laughter after that.

Two nights later Penny awoke from another bad dream. She could not remember what it was once she was fully awake, only that it had involved Gondor and a lot of screaming on her part with other people standing around and laughing at her.

She decided, while she was up, to visit the latrine. On her way back she became aware of a number of people still awake.

There were guards on duty round the camp, of course, both elf and man alike, and a few elves were still up, which was not unusual, but that so few were around did indicate that it was very late (at least the third watch). What seemed odd, therefore, especially given the lateness of the hour, was the amount of men who were not on guard duty and yet not taking the chance to sleep. There were not a huge amount of them, admittedly – only a few small groups or random individuals dotted here and there at nearly every campfire in the place – but even so: there were at least twenty or more people who clearly were not sleeping and yet had no reason to still be up that Penny knew of.

Then she saw Halladan, at some distance, quietly smoking his pipe, sitting in silence with a few other similarly dour looking individuals, and she suddenly twigged. Poor bastards. It occurred to her it must be incredibly difficult for them to be travelling with so many people, with little chance to cover any trauma or distress if they had to share a tent with several people, if they could never have their own space.

She quietly went back to her tent, but it took a long time to fall asleep, and not because she was worried about more nightmares.

Then the following night she was awoken by hurried whispering in her tent.

“What is it? What is happening?” she asked groggily.

“There was shouting just now… from one of the Rohirric tents, we think,” an elleth explained.

“It was over quickly,” Mireth went on, “but it is so sad to think…” She trailed off.

“There was an argument?” Penny was still half-asleep and slow on the uptake.

“No, no,” the first elleth said. “The man was clearly having a bad dream. Something to do with the war. It can happen, soldiers can be affected that way. Frankly, I am surprised this is only the first such incident we have had, given the number of warriors here with memories still so fresh in their heads.”

Penny was wide awake now, sitting bolt upright on her bedroll.

“Who was it? Do you know?”

“We do not know. I would imagine they would try and keep his identity hidden from most if they can,” Mireth replied. “There is no shame in such things, perhaps, but I do not doubt the man in question would feel some nonetheless if he knew all the camp had heard him.”

“Poor man,” Penny whispered. She looked up and caught Mireth’s eye for a moment. Mireth clearly felt as upset about this as Penny did.

Mireth went on to explain that such things could happen to elves, though not to the degree that it could affect a human.

“We have more control over how such things affect us. Grief, sorrow, shock… they are all things that can make an ellon seem very changed after he first comes back from war. I would think any ellon here who has seen battle, which is every one I believe, would have some appreciation of what that man has suffered, what he is going through, whoever he might be.”

“Can Lord Elrond not heal him?”

“He could help certainly. As could Estel or Mithrandir or Lady Galadriel or even many of us here. I do not doubt several will have offered to help as best they might. It may be the Rohirrim have their own way of dealing with such things, I do not know. It is also dependent on the man wishing to be helped. It can be a matter of pride or even shame. Some men feel it is weakness on their part to be so affected.”

Penny could well believe it.

Breakfast the following morning seemed more subdued than usual. Mireth’s words the previous night explained why even the ellyn seemed out of sorts. Everyone was quiet, and there was an atmosphere as if everyone were treading on eggshells and no one wanted to bring up the one subject on everyone’s minds. Only later did Penny run into Halladan, just after breakfast as they were each heading towards their tents to get their packs together and go and saddle up. He looked haggard and tired, and a little pale. She caught his eye for the briefest of moments as they almost came face to face and she opened her mouth to say something.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

It was all he said, and he walked on past her and away.

By evening the mood had lightened somewhat. Penny had studiously avoided Halladan at lunch (or had he been avoiding her – she was not entirely sure), but at supper all seemed forgotten and he was his usual affable self, gently ribbing Arvain over various boastful claims the latter was making.

“If you are such a great man, Arvain, how is it you did not allow any Gondorian maiden to snare you in the end? Too good for them, no doubt?”

“No,” Arvain said slowly, aware that various Gondorian nobles were possibly within earshot and Corunir was sitting next to him.

“But he was to be betrothed to the fair Sidhwen, no?”

“That joke is getting rather old,” Arvain snapped at Corunir. His clear annoyance only made the others laugh all the harder.

“And what of you, Lady Pen-ii?” Corunir directed his toothy smile in her direction. “Perhaps there is some young man in the North who awaits you? I feel sure there must be…”

Penny felt distinctly uncomfortable under his gaze. She shook her head and tried to change the subject.

“How long till we cross the border into Rohan?”

“Of course, I have been to Rohan several times before,” Corunir drawled before anyone could answer Penny’s question. He seemed to be speaking directly to Penny rather than to them all in general, and she felt she had little choice but respond.

“Really? Well, then perhaps you would know…”

“I have travelled quite widely, actually, given the circumstances of the times, of course. I was always out and about in Ithilien, pitting my wits against stray orcs…”

Penny noted that Arvain and Halladan looked sceptical to say the least.

“I thought Fimorndír said you had spent much of your youth in Lebennin,” Arvain retorted.

Corunir’s self-confidence seemed a little ruffled. “Well, only my early childhood. And we still had our moments then, harried by pirates, you know,” he explained to Penny. “Many was the time I had to defend my family even as a youngster.”

Penny was not sure why she would be particularly interested since he was still directing most of his talk to her. Lindir spotted her slightly dazed, nonplussed expression and suppressed a snigger.

“The same is true for just about every warrior here,” Celebdor pointed out.

Corunir seemed most put out.

“Well, yes, perhaps so, but not every one saw active fighting even as a boy.”

“Do not be so certain,” Halladan said quietly to no one in particular.

“Ah, yes… well, I…”

Penny thought it quite something to see Corunir at a loss for words. He was usually so supremely full of himself. He seemed particularly annoyed that this was being said in front of Penny, since he kept glancing at her as if to gauge her reaction to it all which confused her somewhat. She only hoped it did not imply what her gut instinct seemed to be trying to tell her it implied. He really did seem rather desperate to impress her.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, still throwing polite slightly-too-wide smiles in Penny’s direction. “I see my cousin and I needs must speak to him.” He left hurriedly, clearly still rather put out at being reminded his boasts were nothing to speak of compared to those around him.

There were a few exchanged glances and wide grins.

“I do believe a certain young man is entertaining hopes,” Arvain began with a sly smirk in Penny’s direction. He got no further before Penny rounded on him and slapped him on the arm.

“Do not even jest about something like that, Arvain! It is not funny!”

“I was not joking!” Arvain sounded slightly affronted.

The expression on Penny’s face as she realised with horror that they indeed thought what she had suspected she was imagining was priceless. Celebdor and Lindir were nearly on the floor with hysterics and Halladan was doing his best to keep his sniggering as surreptitious as possible by shoving his nose into his cup of ale.

“Oh, stop it!” Mireth scolded them. “Pay them no heed, Pen-ii. I think Corunir is a delightful young man…”

“WHAT?!” Penny looked even more appalled, which only brought more howls of laughter from Lindir and Celebdor.

“Well, a little over-sure of himself, perhaps, but I think that is only because he wishes you to think well of him.”

Words failed Penny at that point.

“I think, Mireth,” Lindir said between gulps of air, “that Pen-ii is somewhat taken aback at the thought.”

“That is something of an understatement,” Penny said with feeling, finally finding her voice. She looked back to where Corunir was now at some distance to them, talking to a group that included Fimorndír, Meresel’s husband. “I mean… he is just a boy!”

“He is nearly twenty,” Arvain pointed out. “And seen battle.”

“Very well, he looks like a boy then,” Penny corrected, even if it was still something of an exaggeration.

“Well, yes, I will admit he does look very young,” Mireth conceded.

“He also reminds me far too much of my brother.”

“Ahhh.”

Everyone looked at Halladan.

“What? Oh, forgive me, it is just that explains why Pen-ii looks at him over-long at times. I had begun to wonder if…”

Penny positively glared at him. Halladan held his hands up apologetically, clearly trying to suppress a smile. Arvain, Lindir and Celebdor looked in danger of getting the giggles all over again.

“What I meant was that he seems… oh, I do not know, he just strikes me as having the same sort of attitude and character.”

“I thought you did not get on with your brother?” Lindir said.

“Exactly.”

“Ah.”

“If I were honest? I am not sure I would trust Corunir as far as I could throw him.”

There was a brief moment of silence before there was more laughter and confused looks.

“I take it you do not have that expression in Sindarin?”

No, clearly they did not, and the idea of Penny staggering about trying to throw anyone anywhere was one that they all found highly entertaining. They did take her point, though.

“You mean he is untrustworthy?” Mireth’s voice cut through the laughter, and had a tone of seriousness to it.

“No, not that so much as that it strikes me he does not fully understand what it is to be responsible. He has that same attitude, that same look about him as my brother: thinks far too much of himself, over confident, but unwilling to do what others may want or need, unwilling to think of anyone except himself. Selfish. Selfish and arrogant and irresponsible.”

She had not realised quite how much feeling she had put into her words, but she noticed the awkward coughs and hooded exchanging of glances.

“I mean my brother, not Corunir,” she added hurriedly. “I hardly know Corunir.”

“Oh, I think you have given a fairly good assessment of his character, from what little I know of him,” Arvain replied.

“Have no fear, Pen-ii,” Halladan said with a grin as he helped himself to more ale, “as your guardians Arvain and I both have a say in who would make a suitable match for you, and Corunir would not be it.”

Penny thought about saying something about being perfectly able to make her own decisions about such things, thank you very much, but decided now was not the time and let that one slide for the time being.

As it was, that was the last time Corunir tried to intrude on their evening chats (and it really had seemed like an intrusion on occasion). Whether someone had said something to him or he had decided it was a lost cause, Penny did not know and decided she did not want to know. The whole thing had been too weird to think about. She had enough on her plate right now without worrying about lovesick teens… Okay, that was probably a little harsh – he had hardly been mooning over her - but even so she could have done without it all.

What she did not know was that later that same night Fimorndír pulled Halladan to one side, asking him to keep an eye on Corunir and divert the young man’s attention away from Penny.

“I overheard the little runt chatting with friends,” Fimorndír said through gritted teeth. “I like Lady Pen-ii, and I know she and Meresel have become good friends even in the short time they have known each other. Corunir, on the other hand, would be well served by a cuff or two about the head had I my way, but no matter. Suffice it to say, he was boasting that he thought it might be a great game to try and woo her, as much as anything due to her reputation at the court and how annoyed his mother would be if she got to hear about his intentions.” He held out an arm and stayed Halladan who had suddenly looked about him with a furious glare as if seeking Corunir out. “Hold, hold, Halladan. I have spoken to him, and most severely, might I add. Were it not for the scandal it would have caused, I would have sent him packing back to Gondor then and there, and if I can yet devise a way to send him elsewhere on an errand I shall do so. He will not be attempting any such thing, I can assure you, or at least not where I might learn of it. I thought it as well to tell you, as her guardian, so that you could also keep your eyes sharp.”

Halladan thanked him, his face as black as thunder. When he returned to the campfire he barely said a word to anyone and seemed very out of sorts. If any Gondorian passed nearby, he looked up sharply, as if he was on the lookout for someone in particular. Arvain looked at him questioningly and simply got a slight shake of the head by way of response which he understood to mean ‘not now, I’ll tell you later.’

Eventually Penny quietly asked Halladan if he was upset about something. Only then did his expression soften a little.

“Yes, but it will pass. It is nothing you have done, Pen-ii, do not concern yourself.”

He smiled then and she relaxed a little, though she watched him for the rest of the evening in the short amount of time she stayed before going to bed. She knew he was still bottling things up, still trying to cope, and for all he had left the memories of Gondor behind him, he was now travelling in the company of warriors, several of whom were obviously suffering just as he was, and hearing tales of battles she knew he would fain forget nearly every night.

She was worried the cracks were beginning to show.

The oblique reference to the conversation between Eomer and Gimli is explained in Many Partings (ROTK) where Eomer apologises to Gimli for his rash words regarding Galadriel when they first met back in Rohan since, of course, he has now seen her. He still insists she is not the fairest female he has seen, since that is Arwen in his opinion. Gimli accepts that even if he does not agree, saying one is like the dawn and the other like the dusk.

The chapter contains the second reference to ‘white cakes’ (the first being when Mireth and Penny go down the First Circle and back a day or two after the wedding). To explain for those as are unfamiliar with the books: Pippin is offered a drink and white cakes when he first meets Denethor and later complains to Beregond it’s all he’s had for breakfast. Also, the reference to Pippin bowing his head when he hears the Rohirric horns is another detail from the books, where it said, after hearing the horns as the Rohirrim charged onto the Pelennor after all hope had been lost in Minas Tirith that they would arrive in time, Pippin could never again hear horns blown without getting tears in his eyes.

The observant among you will notice Beregond is among the company when last chapter I had Pippin saying goodbye to him. That is because that paragraph was cut from the last chapter after it was pointed out to me that, of course, Beregond would travel with his captain, Faramir. Thanks to Lindelea. :)

My apologies for the long wait readers have had for this chapter. Various things conspired together to make writing difficult, impossible or plain slow. This is why updates are haphazard – sometimes quick and at other times taking a while. If in doubt as to what is up, you can always check my LJ where I do try and keep people posted as to where I’m at and what is happening. My sincere thanks, as ever, to all those reading and in particular those who take time out to let me know their thoughts and responses to it all – it means a lot. :)

Chapter 38 – “Persuasion”

At breakfast the next morning, it became apparent that Halladan’s mood was no less dark than it had been the night before, when he was overly sharp to Rhimlath over some typically sweeping comment the elf had made. Rhimlath raised a surprised eyebrow at Halladan, who simply muttered something about going to ready his saddle and left his bread and fruit unfinished.

Penny looked at Arvain, but he just sighed and shook his head.

What she did not know, but would soon become clear, was that the mood of the camp was still unchanged from the previous day and, if anything, had only deepened further. The previous night, when the first flush of rage toward Corunir had begun to dissipate, Halladan had then found his mood was not helped by the discussions he became an unwilling, silent party to, and they continued late into the night, long after Penny had retired to her bedroll. Perhaps it was an inevitable consequence of everyone having heard the horselord’s cries the night before (and knowing full well what they had implied), but many topics of conversation that night throughout the camp had turned to the War and the details thereof: what men had witnessed.

This continued for the next couple of days, particularly late in the evenings when there were low murmurings in quiet corners throughout the camp about how it seemed such and such a person had been affected by what he had seen in the War, or how another of their huge party had supposedly been found weeping alone in a tent a day or two before. Isolated cases, it had to be said, and the identities of those concerned were usually kept secret, but even so talk was rife.

It was not malicious or gossipy. The majority of those discussing such things were warrior males who well understood such things, some of whom even had prior experience of how people could be so affected and perhaps had even been affected themselves in years gone by in the case of the ellyn and one or two of the older men. Rather, such discussions seemed to form some sort of common bonding, an excuse for those involved to unburden themselves a little.

It had to be said the consumption of alcohol in certain sections of the camp increased considerably as well, however.

These discussions were also a wholly male domain. The few women and many ellith in the camp were not included in such talk for several reasons, though there were two main ones. Firstly, this was largely a mortal problem (in that the few members of the camp known to be suffering were all mortals), and thus did not concern the ellith directly. Secondly, there was a sense that some of the graphic nature of such discussions (“he saw his father cleaved in two in front of him”) was not for female ears, however much it was the case that several of the ellith were battle-trained, and many of them and the women had helped the wounded from the battlefield in their time. The menfolk in particular would not have understood if females were included in such talk, but would naturally want to protect them from knowing the full horror of war if they possibly could – a sentiment the ellyn wholeheartedly agreed with.

Of course, by the end of that same evening Arwen and Galadriel had got to hear of what was going on and slowly word spread through the female contingent about the general mood amongst the warriors, as much as a warning to expect some dark moods or even violent outbursts (though everyone hoped it would not come to that, of course). It might be best, it was suggested, to leave the men to it while also being prepared to step in if some sort of distraction was asked for or help needed. It also provided an explanation at last for those few times when groups of females had happened upon small huddles of men or ellyn who had been talking with low voices and serious faces and yet the conversation had died away as soon as the presence of females was noted.

The moment Penny heard about it from Mireth in their tent as they settled down for the night, her main concern was Halladan. She was not sure if this would help him or make things worse. It might be that to have that level of understanding and support around him would help him to free himself of some of the horror that was burdening him. Then again it could just as easily trigger things best not triggered and make matters that much more difficult for him, and given the filthy mood he had been in of late, she suspected the latter. She only wished she had some better understanding, some medical background, and then she could have given him some genuinely helpful advice. As it was she had to sit back and let nature take its course.

That said, those who were considered to be badly affected by the War were rarely party to such discussions since those who actually knew who was so affected knew better than to broach the subject in their presence, and the ellyn generally had a fair instinct as to who might find such things a little difficult to discuss. There were moments, however, almost inevitably, when such an individual found himself in the midst of men swapping tales of the horrors they had seen, of how it could turn the stomach if not the mind of any sane man, however strong and brave he may be.

“… no one would have thought it of him, and yet he was on his knees on the battlefield, weeping like a child…”

“… I saw dreadful things… The things those beasts did to the dead…it would make me ill to describe it… ”

“… and one had this great axe… well, you know the damage those things can do… there was little left of him once it had finished with him. There was no body to bury. Out all night his father was, calling for him in the dark, much as we tried to stop him. Terrible business…”

Halladan was certainly noticeably more tense. His temper was shorter and he would actively seek out privacy and solitude. He offered himself for guard duty on an all-too-regular basis, and Aragorn granted it to him without question, which was in itself significant, perhaps. Even when not on guard duty, he would invariably remove himself from the company, light his pipe and sit on his own in the dark, staring out into the night.

Anything to get away from the whispered, shared camaraderie, the communal tales of blood and horror.

“Halladan?”

He glanced up to see Penny hovering nearby. It was the evening of the seventh day of travel, and he was sitting in the dark on the edge of the camp just out of the reach of the lanterns and campfires.

“Yes?” His tone was perhaps a little sharper than he had intended.

Penny hesitated, unsure and uncertain.

“If you do not wish for company, then just say so. I just thought…”

He shrugged in an ‘it’s a free country, you can do as you please’ sort of fashion before turning back to stare out at the copse of trees just visible in the thickening gloom ahead of him. Penny took that as a tacit acceptance of her presence and sat down next to him. For a long time she said nothing. Halladan shifted slightly, hissing and wincing a little as he did so, massaging at his thigh.

“Are you kneading your leg regularly as the healers advised you to do?”

“Yes.” Again that snappy tone, the hint of irritation.

“Every day?”

There was no response. Penny wondered if she should respond with something joking like ‘what are we to do with you, eh?’ but, given Halladan was her senior by seven years or so, as well as her guardian (let alone behaving like a bear with a sore head all evening) it would probably come across badly. She opted for a smile and a friendly, well-meaning tone instead.

“I shall try and get back into the habit of reminding you in that case. I had got out of the habit with travelling. The sooner you can get rid of that stick the better.”

“Is it that abhorrent?”

She gasped.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it!”

She could feel her hackles rise. He was being deliberately argumentative. If she was that much of an irritant, he could have just said he wanted to be left alone, not allow her to sit down and then behave like this.

“I thought you wanted to get back as much use in your leg as possible? Not only that, but I cannot imagine riding or walking all day can be helping much.”

Halladan’s only response was a sort of snorting sound. Whether it was an expression of derision that she should attempt to show some understanding of his injury, or a wry sound to indicate that, yeah, sitting in one position or walking for hours at a stretch were indeed not the best things to be doing, Penny was not sure. It could have been either, frankly. Penny was trying not to take his mood personally and was wondering if coming to join him, as she often had in the courtyard in front of the Citadel, had been the best idea. Perhaps it would be better if she just left him to it, if he was going to continue to be like this.

Another long silence elapsed before Penny spoke again, trying to keep her voice quiet and her tone sincere, trying to offer him some sort of friendship, some understanding.

“Forgive me for asking this, but are things getting difficult for you in the camp?”

“No,” he replied, breathing heavily through his nose. “Should they be?”

“Well, if even I am aware of the topic of some conversations going round of late… It must be hard for you. I cannot tell you if it is a good thing, an opportunity… or something to be avoided. I wish I could advise you better…”

“And it is your place to advise me, is it?”

She looked at him, taken aback. “Well, no, of course not, I just… I mean…”

He got to his feet.

“I am going for a walk,” he said brusquely, and strode off into the darkness.

Penny blinked after him, feeling a weight settle in her stomach.

“Well, that went just swimmingly, Penny,” she muttered to herself, scathingly. “Well bloody done.”

She knew it was not directed at her particularly (or she hoped it was not) since he had been like this with just about everyone for nearly two days now, with Arvain getting the worst of it from what Penny could see. She still felt that surge of outraged annoyance of someone unfairly treated, though, as well as a pang of something like hurt, which was a little upsetting.

There was the soft tread of a boot behind her.

“Pay him no heed, Pen-ii. He is a little out of sorts of late, that is all. He does not mean it.”

Penny nodded but said nothing. She knew he was right. It was still hard to be on the receiving end of it, though.

Arvain came to sit next to her, taking the place Halladan had just left.

“All this talk in the camp is difficult for him.” He paused for some time before continuing. “He saw things, Pen-ii, things that no one should ever see.”

“I know.” She looked at him. “Faelon told me what happened.”

“Ah.” Arvain nodded slowly, not looking at her. “Halladan… he was always the one who took things upon himself, and he took Hirvell’s death very hard. It was to be expected, perhaps.”

There was an edge to his voice, however, a hint of bitterness than Penny was not sure she had ever heard him use before.

“You resent him for it?”

“No!” He looked at her then. “No, not in the least! Why did you..?”

“Just your tone of voice. And Faelon said something…”

Arvain’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

“He knows you better than I, Arvain. He felt that you had never quite got over what happened, in your own way.”

It took some time for Arvain’s gaze to fall away, his brow furrowing further still, as if slowly assessing what she was saying. Penny noted he did not deny it, but then he did not reply at all either. What was it with these damn warriors not wanting to talk about anything?

“Those men in your history,” Arvain said quietly after several minutes, “The ones who fought in that war, who became ill… Did they get well?”

“Some. Many were left untreated. It was not fully understood at the time what they were going through. It took many years for it to be understood and accepted.” She looked at him. “Mireth tells me that there are many here in the camp who can help the men who are affected. You know that. You know what was being done to help Hiluin right up till the day we left the city.”

Hiluin had been left in the care of the healers. The day they left, his wife had shown some improvement and, while still gravely ill, was out of danger for the time being. It was hoped Aragorn would return to find Hiluin responsive and healing at last.

Arvain nodded slowly. When he spoke at last his voice was quiet.

“He was not like this at first. He was injured, and it took time for him to recover, and that meant he was not himself, but only as anyone gravely injured may seem a little different. Then the old Halladan was back. The moment he was able to get off his cot and start walking about, he seemed like his old self. But then slowly in recent months…” He glanced at her, as if unsure whether to continue, whether to divulge what was probably private information. “He rarely sleeps, or does so only for short amounts of time. That cannot be good for him.”

“It is one of the symptoms. Memories invade their dreams. He might suffer nightmares.”

She spoke in possibilities, aware that she should not let Arvain know just how much she knew, what she had been a witness to.

Arvain nodded. “Yes, I know.” Again he paused. “And he does.”

He said it with such feeling that Penny instantly realised that he had, in all probability, actually coaxed Halladan through such moments. They had shared lodgings in Minas Tirith, after all.

“It only happened once… No, that is not true. It happened a few times, but the first and only time I actually intervened, tried to comfort him after he woke…”

He trailed off and Penny wondered how that must have been for him, to lie awake at night and hear his brother’s nightmares, worrying whether to wake him or even refer to them at all once dawn had come. What had driven Arvain to take the plunge at last? Had it been a particular dream that had so upset him so that he had felt compelled to intervene? Or had he just been unable to endure it any longer, unable to lie there doing nothing and letting Halladan suffer?

“He made sure to try and keep his sleep interrupted after that, spent long hours away from our lodgings at night.”

Again that note of bitterness. Was Arvain frustrated at being shut out too? And he had more right, far more right than any Penny could claim to such frustration.

“You should talk to him.”

There was a hollow laugh from Arvain. “You are joking, surely?”

“Not in the least.”

Arvain looked at her. “The last thing Halladan wants is for me to talk to him about this. He has made that very clear.”

“I am sure he has. I still think you should persevere. It is for his own good. Perhaps seek advice from King Elessar? Or Mithrandir?”

“Pen-ii, do you have any idea what Halladan would do if he knew I had discussed this with you, let alone thought I had mentioned it to Aragorn or Gandalf? He is a proud man. Proud, and as stubborn as a mule.”

Penny had promised Halladan she would not mention his condition to anyone, and she had not: Arvain had broached the subject, and she had replied as if from her little knowledge of such things from the First World War and what Faelon had told her. Arvain knew she had some understanding about these things so would not consider it unusual that she could guess at what he was telling her. In fact that was possibly why he felt comfortable with sharing this information with her.

She had not broken her promise, she told herself.

Or at least she hoped Halladan would agree with her if he ever found out about this.

“They might already realise.”

“That is not the point, though you are probably right. They have known him all his life. They can see how he has changed and easily guess the reasons for it. All this talk in the camp of late has only served to make it all the clearer how he is suffering. They cannot have failed to have noticed.”

“You could talk in general terms. Seek advice for an unknown person, or just ask how they would best tackle such a situation if they were faced with it.”

Arvain shook his head. “No, I shall wait for him to talk to me or else come to terms with it in his own time.”

“And if that does not happen, Arvain? What then?”

He did not reply, though he threw her a worried glance.

After some time Penny rose, saying she should head back to join Mireth and the others. Arvain nodded, replying he would stay where he was for a little while longer.

As Penny made her way back to the campfire she mulled over her conversation with Arvain. It was not that Arvain feared his brother, Penny realised that. It was that he respected him, as well as loved him dearly, and perhaps on some level still ultimately trusted his judgement, trusted Halladan to know if he could or could not cope. It would take a lot for Arvain to risk Halladan’s anger in broaching the subject with him himself. Whatever had passed between them during that one time Arvain had sought to help Halladan with his night terrors had put paid to him trying anything like that again. Given Halladan’s reaction to Penny on the Pelennor, she could only imagine how he had reacted to Arvain shaking him awake from something horrific. If Halladan had still been half asleep and faced with someone with whom he felt he could speak freely, Penny did not doubt Arvain had indeed felt the sharp end of Halladan’s tongue and the full force of his fury, fuelled as he no doubt would have been by his shame that such a thing was happening to him, let alone that his brother now knew about it.

It was still relatively early, so Penny remained at the campfire for quite some time. Arwen was there and called Penny over to sit with her as she, Mireth and Eleniel chatted away.

A little to one side sat Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel. Glorfindel was also with them, and as Penny passed by them, he asked if she would like to join them. Penny hesitated, glancing at Elrond before apologising and explaining Arwen had already asked her to join her. She thanked them and wished them a pleasant evening.

Perhaps she imagined it but it seemed as if Elrond, his head bowed and not looking in her direction, nodded gently, almost imperceptibly and as if to himself, as she spoke.

Elladan and Elrohir were seated with Arwen, smiling into their cups of wine at every story being told. Many seemed to concern Arwen’s youth, which Penny found fascinating if a little sad at the same time: reminiscences being shared before they all parted company. She also wondered if this was why Elrond was not seated with his daughter for once, if that was the topic of conversation.

The elves seemed the only ones in relatively high spirits, though even their general demeanour was more subdued than usual. It seemed quiet in the Gondorian and Rohirric parts of the camp – a low murmur with little singing and no laughter.

Aragorn was nowhere to be seen amongst the elves. For the last two nights he and Gandalf had been spending their evenings with the men, talking quietly round campfires as they smoked their pipes, providing some words of comfort, wisdom and reassurance to the restless. Narya’s strength had waned considerably, but not completely. That and Gandalf’s innate wisdom worked wonders and many hearts were the lighter for his company. He was ‘Old Stormcrow’ no more.

Many of the Dunedain had also taken it upon themselves to sit with their fellow mortal warriors, a strong calming presence amid the talk of butchery and loss. So too Faramir and Eomer, well respected and well loved by all, did their part. Indeed, had they not lost and suffered also? The ellyn would occasionally join them, but mainly this was a mortal affair and left in the hands of the great and good amongst the mortals (and Gandalf who was so well known to both Gondorians and Rohirrim). The elves waited to be called upon if needed.

There was no sign of Halladan for the rest of the evening.

Arwen noted Penny seemed a little out of sorts, and asked if all was well. Penny attempted to bluff it, but elves were ever perceptive and it was Elladan who wondered out loud and with a sympathetic expression if it was the general mood of the camp that was affecting her. Penny was forced to admit it was, though she said nothing about Halladan.

“Perhaps it will be of comfort to some, a means of healing,” Arwen said to Penny. “Many will talk more freely than they ever might have in other circumstances.”

“And for those that will not talk? That refuse, I mean, or find it beyond their ability?”

Elladan gave Penny a knowing look but said nothing. Elrohir glanced at his brother, as if Elladan had said something out loud to him (though he had not), and nodded in agreement. Both then shook their heads despairingly. They knew Halladan well, as did all the elves from Imladris. Arvain and Penny were not the only ones to have their eye on him with some concern.

“Oh, give them time. Who can say how they might yet react?”

Arwen smiled and took Penny’s hand, and Penny was not sure why but she felt comforted for a moment.

Once in her tent, however, Arwen’s infectious optimism began to fade and Penny could not sleep. Her chats with Halladan and Arvain were once more running round Penny’s head (along with everything else) and unsettling her. It was all none of her business, perhaps, but at the same time these two men were now her guardians: they were in her life for life (if she stayed for life, that was) and, even though she had only known them for something over a month, she felt that their commitment to her meant this business involved her as much as it did anyone else, whether she (or they) liked it or not. They had taken her on as some sort of adopted or honorary family in a way, which meant it was only right she give a damn, never mind what Halladan seemed to think.

She got up off her bedroll, pulled a dress on over her head, grabbed Mireth’s spare shawl and headed out.

She was not sure where she was going. It just seemed pointless to lie there staring at the tent walls not sleeping and with a thousand and one worries running about her head driving her crazy. She was seriously tempted to track down Naurdir and wheedle a jug of wine out of him to have to herself – it was certainly what old Penny would have done – but perhaps it was not the best thing to do. She wandered amongst the elvish tents, debating whether if not a jug then one large cup of wine might not be just the thing to help her sleep and without really thinking about where she was going.

“Best not go wandering off into the dark,” a voice said. “The last thing we need is to have to get up a search party in the middle of the night.”

Penny was brought up to a halt. She looked around her and realised that she had actually stepped beyond the last tent and was several feet into the darkness. Ahead of her a tall figure showed up dark against the stars. She had recognised his voice.

“Well, at least you are talking to me now,” she said.

There was a pause and then a suitably conciliatory tone from Halladan. “Yes, forgive me if I was short with you earlier. It was not my intention. It is just…”

“I know. I mentioned things you would rather not think about. My apologies.”

“Accepted, though I should apologise to you. I realise you were only speaking from your concern for me. I should not have reacted as I did.”

“Also accepted. We are still friends then?”

He was close enough now that she could see him smile.

“What are you doing out here? Did you get lost?”

“No. I could not sleep. I was just walking around without thinking where I was going. I was wondering if I should get some wine.”

Halladan raised an eyebrow.

“I felt in need of a drink.”

“And you think that will help you?”

“We have a saying: ‘the pot calling the kettle black’. Does that make any sense to you?”

Perhaps she was more tired than she realised, given she seemed not to think twice about poking the bear.

“I can guess at the sense of it,” Halladan said slowly. He paused. “You are being rather blunt.”

“You strike me as a man who speaks plainly, Halladan. I had assumed you preferred others to do the same.”

Again that smile, this time with a few nods of the head. “It was a fair point well made,” he conceded.

“Should you be getting back on guard? I mean, am I allowed to talk to you?”

He laughed then. “Of course. I can still keep my ears and eyes open while talking a little.”

A man? Multitasking? Well, wasn’t he the novelty!

Penny suppressed the urge to snigger.

“I take it,” he continued, “that you wish to stay for a little while? I am not sure I make good company at the moment, but you are welcome, though you would be better served by trying to get some rest.”

He was clearly making a monumental effort to make up for his previous lack of good grace. Penny did not doubt for a moment he would probably prefer to be left alone. Even so, he had made the offer and she would appreciate a distraction from her thoughts as well as the pleasure of his company. So when he turned back and began to walk slowly a little way from the camp Penny came alongside him.

“Were it not for the fact that you are on guard duty, I could say the same of you: that you would be better served by trying to get some rest.” She glanced up at him. “You have been looking tired of late, Halladan. Are you sleeping at all?”

Halladan’s jaw went tight. “Pen-ii,” he said in a warning tone, “please, can we leave this?”

“Forgive me, Halladan, but if I have noticed, others who know you better than I will have done so also.”

“Do you think I do not know that?” His voice was strained, as if speaking through clenched teeth.

Penny shut up, and they walked in silence for a few minutes more, but she was unable to restrain herself. He was being pleasant and open for the first time in days and she was determined to have her say.

“Arvain is worried about you.”

Halladan stopped and looked at her. He did not need to ask the question.

“He spoke to me…” She could see the change in his face. “Do not be angry, Halladan! He said little and only did so at all because he heard me speak of such things in Minas Tirith that time. I stood by my promise to you, I swear it. I gave him no indication of what I know or how. Do not blame Arvain, either. He was not seeking advice, merely… explaining.”

“Explaining?” Halladan’s voice was taut with emotion, though whether anger or something else Penny was not entirely sure.