Chapter 39 – “The Final Countdown”

If Penny had been concerned that Halladan might feel awkward with her at breakfast the following morning, she need not have worried. Nor did it seem like he was trying to pretend nothing had happened, which was perhaps nearly as much of a pleasant surprise. Rather the soft smile he threw in her direction as he caught sight of her seemed warm and friendly, and there was a moment when he held her gaze for a few seconds while his smile broadened a little, which she interpreted as gratitude for her behaviour with him the previous evening.

At least Penny felt reassured that he did not think she had intruded or crossed a line and that they were still friends. She was pleased. She smiled back.

Over the next day or two, Arvain and Halladan would often spend long hours away from the general company. No sooner were the chores done to set up the camp and the meal finished than the two of them headed off together to talk in privacy, avoiding the usual gossiping chatter or songs and telling of tales.

While the mood amongst the mortals had changed somewhat since they had arrived in Rohan after the days of shared, quiet unburdening, it was still relatively sombre (this was a funeral procession, after all). The atmosphere was nowhere near as dark and brooding as it had been, but there was still the real possibility of certain topics being occasionally discussed, and now that Halladan had finally admitted to Arvain what he was going through, his brother could be all the more forceful in trying to protect Halladan from the worst of it. Thus, even when they were in the general fray, the two would sit at some remove from the others, while actively seeking out the company of elves and Dunedain for the most part.

Arvain became like Halladan’s shadow, near constantly by his side. He took it upon himself to fend off those who tried to engage his brother in conversation about certain sensitive subjects. It was never an elf or Dunadan who was the culprit, but invariably a soldier who knew them vaguely from the War or else had been recently introduced. The man might throw a question Halladan’s way, or start up on some tale or other, and Arvain would immediately be the one to answer him in his brother’s stead, or cut the man short with a tale of his own about something entirely different. It was not long before Faelon also began to act in a similar manner.

It was always subtly done, but even so the first few times it happened, Halladan opened his mouth to protest and even stormed away on one occasion, his face dark with irritation. Arvain had followed him, grabbing him firmly by the arm and talking animatedly, if in hushed tones. Halladan had clearly found whatever was said uncomfortable listening, but had nodded stiffly as if reluctantly admitting Arvain was right.

After that, there were no more objections from Halladan.

The times when they were away from the general hubbub, however, Penny was aware how much she missed their company.

It was not that she did not have people around her to keep her busy and entertained or that many of those were not firm friends whose company she enjoyed. The stories and ballads continued as usual, Erestor would occasionally badger Penny into conversing in Westron for a half hour or so (which she would struggle with and often left her with a headache at the end of it), and there was always someone with a cup of wine and a quip or two to listen to, Lindir in particular. She could hardly complain she was bored.

Even so, she felt as if she had made some sort of connection with the brothers. Perhaps in large part because she now knew of their commitment to her as guardians, perhaps because they were mortal and understood her more than an elf at times, but whatever the reason she regretted not seeing them as much as she would have liked. That said, she was just glad they were talking at last, or that Halladan was talking at least, and did not begrudge them for one moment. She only hoped it was helping and, judging from the slight change already seen in Halladan, she assumed it was doing so. He already seemed, if not better, then a little more at ease in himself. He was still quiet and not terribly talkative, but he was not actively seeking out brooding solitude anymore.

Penny did wonder whether Halladan had told his brother about what she knew. Even if he had, she did not know how much he would tell Arvain. Would he tell him about what had happened on the Pelennor, for example? Somehow she doubted it. The few times she was with them at mealtimes, however, there was no reference to it at all. Indeed it was not until two days after Penny had sat with Halladan as he had his flashback, that she had her answer.

It was an hour or so after supper, the usual crowd was round the main elvish campfire, and Penny was on her way to fetch a cup of wine for herself and Mireth. Arvain was standing between two tents, slightly back from the main group of people, and as Penny passed by him he called her name.

She looked quizzically at him. He jerked his head, indicating she should join him and she did so.

“I just wanted to say… thank you,” he said quietly when she had reached him.

Her brow furrowed even more deeply.

“Halladan told me you had been bullying him a little, pressing him to talk to me. I want to thank you.”

She smiled gently.

“Oh, it was nothing. Truly. I merely told him what my honest opinion was. I could just as easily have been wrong as I was right. I am glad he has spoken to you, though. For both your sakes.”

Arvain nodded and as he did so, Penny noticed the muscles in his jaw were tight.

She could well imagine it had been an emotional few days for him as much as for Halladan. There was so much she wanted to ask him about his discussions with Halladan and yet, for all this young man was only two or three years her senior and was now her guardian, she felt it was possibly none of her business. This was something between him and his brother alone.

“It has helped,” he said, as if in response to her unspoken question. “I insisted he be… frank with me.” Then he corrected himself. “No, Aragorn and Faelon insisted. I am grateful to them both also.”

His voice sounded strained, though. Penny gently laid a hand on his forearm.

“You needed this from him, as much as he needed to share what he has been trying to deal with by himself all this time.”

Arvain nodded once more, seemingly unable to speak for a moment.

Given the emotion she could see was surging through him, as well as Halladan’s confession to her two days previously that he had finally learned how angry Arvain had been at the manner in which he had been treated over Hirvell’s death, Penny had little doubt that frank words had been exchanged between the two, possibly even ending with Halladan explaining in no uncertain terms what he had tried to protect his baby brother from knowing all this time.

She hesitated for all of a heartbeat and then hugged Arvain impulsively. Decorum be damned.

When she pulled back from him she could see he was smiling gratefully. She returned his smile and, since she could think of nothing more to say that she had not already expressed in the hug, she turned to leave. Instead she was stayed by the gentle hold of Arvain’s hand on her wrist. She looked back at him.

“I am sorry you never met him.”

Okay, stuff like that was going to make her cry.

“So am I, Arvain. If his father and brothers were anything to judge him by then I know he must have been a good and noble man.”

He smiled sadly. They said nothing for a moment.

“Come,” she said at last. “I was about to get some wine for Mireth and myself. Will you join us?”

“But of course. I thank you kindly.”

And his smile broadened.

The following night Penny herself became co-opted as a member of ‘The Halladan Protection Squad’. Halladan and Arvain were, for once, spending some time round the main fire enjoying a pitcher of ale with Faelon. Penny was seated nearby with a group that included some of the ladies-in-waiting, various ellyn, Mireth and Eleniel.

Not too long after the ‘post-meal’ socialising had begun, Prince Imrahil arrived, intending to spend the evening in the company of the elves. He brought several lords of Dol Amroth with him.

Within minutes of their arrival, one of the lords of Dol Amroth spotted Arvain and made his way over to him. He had been introduced to Arvain by his cousin (a noble of Minas Tirith) several days previously and was now making a point of coming to greet the young Dunadan who, of course, felt duty bound to then introduce the man to Halladan and Faelon. They in turn naturally felt they had little choice but insist the man join them in a tankard of ale which Arvain promptly went to fetch.

Soon enough, Penny found she was only half-listening to Rhimlath relating a detailed history of elvish blade-smithing in the Second Age at great length (which had come about as a consequence of one of the Gondorian ladies-in-waiting being foolish enough to mention that her cousin was one of the best smithies in Gondor within Rhimlath’s earshot). Instead her attention was distracted by what was going on only a few feet away.

The man from Dol Amroth was talking fairly animatedly, loudly enough that Penny could hear him, but also, given he was an educated noble, in Sindarin so she could understand him even if his accent was rather different from that of someone from Minas Tirith. It seemed he had no sooner sat down and been presented with his ale than he had launched into a long account of his experiences in the War, about how hard it had been to be part of the siege of Minas Tirith knowing his home was possibly under attack at the same time and how grateful he was for all that the Dunedain had done as part of the army that had routed the would-be attack on Lebennin and its environs.

However, he did not seem to understand that Halladan’s reticence was a sign that he did not wish to participate in the conversation. Rather, the man seemed to be going out of his way to try and include Halladan (probably precisely because he was the only one of the three Dunedain who seemed to be refusing to contribute to the conversation), and while it was Arvain who was answering every question directed at his brother and Faelon was trying to change the subject, the man seemed determined to pursue it.

“Pardon me…”

The four men looked up. Penny had stood and crossed over to them. She now tried her most charming smile on the man.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but I could not help overhearing. Am I to understand you come from Dol Amroth?”

The stranger nodded.

“You actually live inside the city itself?”

“Yes. Born and raised there.”

“Oh, but how wonderful! Could I trouble you…? I do not mean to interrupt, forgive me,” she glanced at the other three who were both surprised and not a little amused by how convincingly apologetic she seemed, “but would you mind telling me a little about the city? I have never been there, and I have heard several of the men from there telling such wonderful stories of the place while we have travelled, but I would dearly love to have someone describe it to me in detail.”

Somewhere nearby Lindir told Eleniel slightly too loudly that he clearly must have imagined the moment when Penny had been given chapter and verse on Dol Amroth only the other day. Eleniel ignored him and Celebdor kicked him.

“I hear tell it is a very beautiful city,” Penny was saying, “but I find it hard to believe it could be more beautiful than Minas Tirith.”

“Oh, it is, I can assure you!” the man replied with some feeling.

“Surely not!”

The man, sensing a challenge, and only too happy to be given an opportunity to boast about his native city, invited Penny to sit down with them while he described in minute detail the glories of his city. Faelon and Arvain exchanged a slightly relieved look with each other while also stifling chuckles. Halladan said nothing, merely kept his gaze and his head lowered, holding his tankard in one hand. There was a smile on his face, though.

Some time later the man was called away by his cousin who said Prince Imrahil was asking for him. He apologised, bowed his head in Penny’s direction and thanked her for taking such an interest in his home.

“If you ever visit our fair city, you must be sure to call upon my wife and me. We would be most honoured of your company. You would be most welcome.”

As he made his way towards the far side of the gathering where Imrahil and Aragorn were seated together, there was a moment of silence amongst the others.

“Well,” said Arvain at last, “I think you now know more about Dol Amroth than you could have ever have wished to learn, Pen-ii.”

“I found it most interesting,” Penny insisted.

“For the first ten minutes, perhaps,” Faelon muttered.

“Indeed,” Arvain replied, with a grin. “I now know enough that I am not sure I would ever need to visit the city itself.”

“Thank you, Pen-ii.”

Halladan’s voice was quiet, but it cut across the tail end of his brother’s words nonetheless. He was not looking at her.

“You are very welcome, Halladan.” She threw him a smile and caught his eye as he glanced up at her. He smiled back.

“Did Pen-ii just get a thank you, Faelon?” Arvain’s tone was one of mock astonishment and there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I do believe she did, Arvain, yes.”

“And after all that we did before she arrived!”

“You know I am grateful for all that you do, Arvain,” Halladan said, perhaps even more quietly than before. Penny suddenly felt slightly awkward being there.

“Forgive me, brother,” Arvain’s tone was instantly serious and apologetic. “I did not mean… I was only…”

“Pen-ii,” Faelon interrupted, “did I ever tell you the story of when Halbarad and I were boys and met an orc in the woods?”

“No.” Penny grinned. She was grateful for the distraction as well as to hear something about Halbarad and Faelon’s youth. Faelon’s ‘family stories’ were always entertaining. “I would love to hear it.”

There was a groan from Halladan and Arvain. She glanced at them, curious.

“Oh, ignore them,” Faelon said, flapping his hand dismissively in their direction.

“We have heard this story more times than we would care to guess at,” Halladan explained.

“Terribly proud of themselves about it all,” Arvain continued with a slight shake of the head. “Never let anyone forget it.”

“And with good reason!” Faleon retorted, his chest swelling slightly with pride. “I would like to have seen you fare as well at your age.”

“There was that time with the dog!”

Halladan joined Faelon’s laughter.

“It was a vicious dog!” Arvain insisted.

“It was no bigger than a ferret,” Halladan whispered conspiratorially to Penny, though easily loud enough that Arvain could hear.

“It was not!”

“Arvain, you were small and it was understandable that you were alarmed by a slightly over-exuberant ratter, but…”

“‘Slightly over-exuberant’!?” Arvain seemed outraged.

“But,” Faelon repeated firmly, “you cannot claim it to be anything like coming face to face with a very annoyed orc when you barely reach its hip.”

Arvain looked determined to argue the point, but eventually had to admit Faelon was right, though he did so extremely begrudgingly.

Penny grinned and laughed with the other two. Ah, this is what she had missed the last few nights, she decided, as Faelon went on to tell how two small boys armed only with a hunting dagger, a slingshot and several sharp stones had taken down their first ever orc.

Later that evening, as she excused herself from the company when it was getting late, Penny heard her name and turned to find Gandalf was wandering over to her.

“Are you on your way to your tent? Ah, good, then I shall join you if I may. I am heading in that direction as it is.”

He waited until they were a fair way from the company before he spoke again.

“I am glad Halladan is finally accepting help from others,” he said, though none too loudly and yet in a suitably off-hand if not positively breezy manner. “We were beginning to get concerned, as were you, I suspect.”

Penny had not expected this and was not sure what to say, or even if to respond at all. Gandalf almost sounded as though he was speaking rhetorically, however, and carried on without waiting for an answer from her one way or the other.

“You have got close to him and his brother in the short time you have known them. I am glad. For their father’s sake, since I know it was what he wanted, but also I think it has been of great benefit for you to have some close mortal company that understands you better than perhaps the people of Gondor or Rohan ever might.” He glanced at her. “I think you have been good for them in some ways as well.”

“Me?”

There was the hint of a smile through his beard.

“Are you telling me you had no hand in Halladan finally becoming more honest with himself and more open with those closest to him about what has been troubling him so?”

“Um…”

“He was quite frank with King Elessar, Pen-ii, when they spoke. Halladan credited you with, if not forcing his hand, then at least making him realise both the seriousness of the situation and that he had little choice but to unburden himself, that he could not continue to struggle alone.”

“It was the King’s words that tipped the balance, I think.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps not.” He paused for a few moments before continuing. “Of course,” he said slowly, “Halladan did not explain precisely how it came to pass that you were bold enough to broach the subject with him in the first place, nor why he even allowed you to do so.”

There was something about the keen look in Gandalf’s eye that made Penny suspect that he either knew exactly what had occurred, or had guessed at it.

She quickly dropped her gaze and said nothing.

Gandalf nodded, more to himself than to her it seemed.

“I shall not press you,” he said, even more quietly than before, “but I can imagine he was angry at himself when it occurred, was he not? And for several different reasons.”

It took all Penny’s self-control not to falter in her step and then after the initial moment of shock passed she felt flustered. If she confirmed what Gandalf clearly seemed to know, she would break Halladan’s trust. It was for Halladan to tell them about what had occurred if he so chose, not her. Gandalf, however, again did not give her the chance to respond, for which she was grateful.

“And you, being the Pen-ii we have come to know so well, no doubt would not let it pass. Like a dog with a bone you worried at him until he finally gave in, I suspect. Good for you, Pen-ii. Good for you. I am surprised you did not tell anyone, however, or ask for advice. Any one of us could have helped him, as I know you know. But then, given he most likely swore you to silence, determined as he was to try and cope by himself, it is understandable perhaps. You are to be commended, Pen-ii, both for your determination as well as your loyalty to him.”

Penny could feel herself flushing with awkwardness as well as a little pleasure at the praise he was giving her. She was still wondering if she should deny it all, though; after all her silence was as good as confirmation of his suspicions.

“Of course, I could be entirely wrong in my musings,” Gandalf continued, but the glance he threw her as he said this told her he knew perfectly well he was nothing of the sort, “I do not expect you to confirm or deny anything, since that might well compromise whatever promise you have made to Halladan. I just thought that if I was correct you might like to hear my opinion on the matter. If I am incorrect, then please forgive me and ignore everything I have just said.”

Again that smile and the knowing look…

The wily old bird.

“However, there is something else I need to discuss with you, if I may.”

They had long since passed Penny’s tent by this point and had now reached the outer edge of the elvish section of the encampment. Gandalf slowly strolled out into the darkness beyond the last tent and stood for a moment looking up at the night sky. For a minute or so the moon was obscured by clouds, but even as Penny stood silently by his side, waiting for him to continue, the clouds moved and the moon, bright if not full, revealed itself and the stars became visible. Something about Gandalf seemed to, if not exactly glimmer, then certainly light up a little, not unlike an elf in starlight. The ring on his finger, on the hand that bore his staff, gleamed and shone in a way that, in Penny’s opinion, no stone should be able to do, but that was rings of power for you, she assumed.

“Tell me, have you been avoiding Lord Elrond deliberately?”

The question came completely out of nowhere, taking her totally by surprise. This, she knew, was most certainly not a rhetorical question.

“Er… no. No, of course not. Well, I mean, um… no.”

She did not sound nearly as certain as she would have liked.

She had not been avoiding Elrond, she told herself, it was just that it seemed so awkward to try and pretend like nothing had happened when she still felt sick to her stomach every time she thought about how she had behaved and what she had said to him. That she was reminded of exactly that every time she saw him meant that she had, naturally enough, tried not to see him if she could possibly help it. So, no, she had not been avoiding him exactly… except that she had, of course.

“I have not said anything before now, nor has Lord Elrond, because we understand that you perhaps feel a little… uncomfortable after what occurred. I would suggest that you talk to him, however.”

She felt that knot of anxiety in her stomach explode into life, and as it did so, Gandalf turned to her suddenly, almost as if he himself had sensed it at the same moment.

“Do you fear him, Pen-ii? Have you forgotten what and who he is? I thought you knew us all so well, even before you met us.”

“No, it is not that!” Was that how it appeared? Ai, how did she manage to make such a damn hash of everything? “I just… It is only that…” She hung her head. “I feel so dreadful about how I behaved. I know in my head that when he said it was finished he meant it, and yet my heart… I cannot but help suspect that his opinion of me is changed forever. I bitterly regret what I said and did. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

Gandalf laid a hand on her cheek, and when she looked up at him, she could see his face was not stern, his expression kind.

“He understands better than you think. He is saddened that you will not forgive yourself when he has already forgiven you long ago.”

“I know it may seem like I do not take him at his word. It is not that…”

“Except that is precisely what it is, Pen-ii, whether you mean it or no. When Lord Elrond says a thing, he means it. He is, above all things, a kind, gentle and wise elf of thousands of years’ learning. Trust his wisdom, and remember his kindness. If he has been a little harder with you than he otherwise might on occasion, it is only because up till now he has felt himself to be responsible for you, your guardian in some ways. I know he told you all this. You were under his patronage, in his care. Your behaviour reflected on him, but more than that he made himself responsible for your education in the ways of this world. You have grown and changed so much. It is almost as if you were a different person from that outspoken, raging female that Halbarad brought to Elrond’s door. Elrond is proud and impressed by the changes you have made, as are all of us, at the effort it has taken you to attempt to conform to our ways, to not run wild. It shows you have intelligence and character, that you had both an understanding of your situation and respect for all of us that you were willing to listen and willing to change. I do not think it is the fact that the fiery old Pen-ii came back that saddened him (for that will always be a part of your character, after all). No, it is more that you spoke without thinking, reacted without finding out the full story. More than that, that you reacted without stopping to consider what you knew of Elrond’s character.”

“Do you think I do not know all this?” Her voice was quiet, and if it sounded bitter it was directed at herself, not Gandalf.

“He does not blame you for it, Pen-ii. He understands that you reacted out of the strength of feeling you have for Halbarad, from the close bond of friendship you formed with him and with his kin in their turn. In some way he commends you for holding Halbarad in such high esteem, however misplaced your reaction.”

“He was disappointed in me, Gandalf,” and she could not look at him as she said it. “That is what hurt me most. Nor do I blame him in the least. He had every right to be disappointed. But how can I be as I was before in his company after that?”

“Do you think you are the only one to have disappointed him in his long life? Do you think his sons or daughter never misbehaved in their youth? Or no resident of Imladris ever did anything foolish in their time? Dear me, Pen-ii, have you been such a good friend of Lindir these past months and yet not understood his nature is one that has driven Elrond to distraction before now, for all that he is a close friend of Elrond’s, one whom Elrond loves dearly?” He was chuckling as he spoke. “That incident of Glorfindel’s green hair was quite something, I can assure you.”

“Ah, but Lindir denies all responsibility for that, Gandalf.”

Gandalf gave her what could only be described as ‘a look’ from underneath his bushy eyebrows.

“You and I both know that Lindir’s denials in such matters are worth less than nothing. He had a hand in it, of that I and most others are certain.”

Penny’s grin matched his, but then her expression faltered.

“Even so, Gandalf. A prank is not the same as insulting the Lord of Imladris himself.”

“Perhaps not, but there have also been moments when some have disagreed with him over a matter or been rather… frank in their opinions. Franker than they might have been otherwise due to anger or perhaps even a little over-indulgence in their cups.”

Penny looked astonished.

“No, I will not give you details. Such matters should be left untouched once they have been resolved. Elves may not be as hasty or quick to strong emotions as mortals, perhaps, wiser and better able to restrain themselves, indeed, but even they still have their moments. You know their history, Pen-ii, you know what they can be capable of at their lowest.”

Penny blinked. That was true.

“Not that I am for a moment suggesting that of Elrond or any in Imladris, I hasten to add. I make a general point only.”

Penny nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

“All I am saying is that, for all your outburst was not to be condoned and crossed a line that should not have been crossed, it is not the end of your friendship with Lord Elrond. He wants you to allow yourself to accept what he said to you in Minas Tirith. He is waiting for the moment when you feel you can start to treat him as you always used to. He has not spoken to you directly since he felt you should come to this in your own time. I agreed, and would not speak to you now except that I suspect this may be affecting your decision regarding where you will stay. No, no, do not interrupt. It has filtered through to me that you are not yourself, that you are having disturbed sleep. It is a momentous decision and I suspect it is distressing you greatly to have to make it. So make your peace with Elrond, Pen-ii. Reassure yourself that, for all you crossed the bounds, no true harm has been done. If you let this affect your decision, if Lord Elrond thought for one moment you would refuse his hospitality simply because you feared he had not meant what he said to you, then I suspect he truly would be angry. Angry and not a little hurt. You would not want that, would you? No, of course not. Of course, if you choose to stay in Gondor because that is what you truly wish, then that is another matter entirely.”

Penny opened her mouth to say something, but could not find the words.

“Well, then, that is settled. Let me walk you back to your tent. It is late and there is a chill in the air now that the sky has cleared. Come.”

And so saying he led a slightly bewildered Penny back to her tent.

When they reached it, Mireth was already inside with one or two ellith. As Gandalf bade Penny goodnight he leant down and spoke quietly to her.

“Think on what I have said to you, Pen-ii. We do not have much further to travel and all too soon you will be forced to decide. Take your chance while there is time. We are here to help you and advise you. If you need to discuss this, then do so. Do not feel shy or reticent. Yes, I walk in the company of kings, but I am still the old man you hugged so warmly when I left Imladris, am I not?” He smiled.

“You are no old man, Gandalf.”

The enormous eyebrows raised and dropped for a moment and he chuckled. Then he bade her goodnight once more and wandered off back to the campfire.

Penny did a lot of thinking that night, lying on her bedroll, staring at the ceiling of her tent instead of sleeping. Mireth asked if anything was amiss, and for the first time in a long time it was not an out-and-out lie when Penny said ‘no’ and gave her friend a smile.

She knew Gandalf was right, of course. She could not carry on in this fashion, and if he and Elrond had noticed her behaviour had changed towards him, then no doubt others had also, and that would never do. She had no desire to have raked up that which Elrond had been so gracious to either cover over or insist no one referred to if he had told them about it.

So it was that the next evening she made a point of joining the ladies-in-waiting when Arwen came to sit with her father, Erestor and Glorfindel. They all welcomed Penny gladly, Elrond in particular, and his smile seemed genuinely warm. There was even a point while everyone’s attention was focused on a singer from Lothlorien that Elrond leaned over and murmured quietly in Penny’s ear how glad he was that she had joined them.

Penny thought of those few times she had caught his eye in the past week or so and felt that she had picked up some attitude from him towards her. She now suspected she had imagined it all, or read things that were not there, solely due to her own anxiety and fears. She felt such an idiot. What must he think of her?

She glanced sideways at him and noticed he was watching her, as if assessing her reaction to him, perhaps even guessing near to what was going through her mind. It looked as if he was about to say something to her when a Gondorian noble appeared at his shoulder, saying King Elessar was asking for him.

Elrond said he would be there presently and stood to follow the man, but not before looking back in Penny’s direction and inclining his head slightly, the hint of a smile on his lips and round his eyes.

Penny smiled back and then let her gaze drop, out of shyness or something like it.

At that moment, however, the singer finished his song and there was a ripple of applause and murmured thanks. When Penny turned back round, Elrond had left, already crossing over to the far side of the fire where Aragorn and Gandalf were seated with Imrahil and Faramir.

Penny felt, if not exactly instantly relieved or less burdened, then at least a little less awkward in his presence from that point on. There was little opportunity to talk to him in the days that followed, however, since it seemed he was never away from company, especially that of his children and parents-in-law. The family unit seemed near indivisible much of the time, and perhaps with good reason.

At the same time as the gloom had lifted from the mortal encampments, an imperceptible change seemed to have slowly come over the elvish one. It was barely noticeable at first, indeed only became so after a few days’ travel into Rohan. Even then it was still faint, and no doubt many amongst the mortals did not notice at all unless they knew the elves well, but it was there nonetheless. Not only that, but as the days passed by and they got nearer to the Meduseld, it increased, almost imperceptibly, day by day.

At first Penny assumed the mood from the men in the camp, which had been so very dark, oppressive and brooding, had finally affected even the elves in some way – memories of their own losses or brushes with evil, horror and death crowding in on them. However, once it was clear that the mood amongst the mortals was no longer nearly as desperate as it had been and yet the elves continued to lack their usual levity, she knew it had to have some other cause.

If she had not already guessed what that cause was, it was made blindingly obvious to Penny when, four days into Rohan, Arwen rode with the elves for the first time since they had left Minas Tirith and then continued to travel with them every day until they reached the Edoras.

No, this was no ‘knock-on effect’ of the suffering mortals. What was affecting the elvish camp was an entirely elvish dilemma.

Arwen had kin and close friends in both Imladris and Lothlorien and had spent extended periods of her life in both places, thus every elf travelling with them knew Arwen well and had likely known her all her life.

Yet, once the elves left Rohan, most would never see Arwen again.

The effect that this nearing separation was having on the elves was like a faintly discernible, gentle undercurrent, though of what it was hard to say precisely. There was no definable sense of sorrow so much as a lack of the usual joyfulness that the elvish camp was always full of even in its most subdued moments. There was little laughter, and any singing seemed quiet and often full of sadness. Several sang of love, and while they never sang of love lost or love unrequited, there was always a sacrifice involved in the story, or at the very least the tune itself was slow, haunting and moving.

One or two even sang of Luthien, unsurprisingly. It had to be said they sang not only of how she had been lost to the immortals, but also of how she had won the love of a great man, how their love had burned bright and true, how they had been blessed by the Valar themselves and how a great and noble line had come from them both.

No one begrudged Luthien her choice.

So too it seemed with Arwen. Some time before, the elves had learnt what her choice would be and come to accept it as best they might. They were happy she had found a love so strong and deep, for all they would grieve and miss her dreadfully.

It was those mixed emotions that were running through the camp, and growing with every step they took closer to their journey’s end.

“You have to remember, Pen-ii,” Faelon said quietly one night when they were about three days’ ride from Edoras, “that from the moment each of Lord Elrond’s children were born, he and Lady Celebrían knew the choice that lay ahead of each of them. They always knew it might come to this, even without any foresight they may have had regarding Arwen in particular.”

He, Arvain, Halladan and several other Dunedain were sitting round a small fire of their own, at one remove from the elves’ fires. Penny was with them, along with several of Arwen’s ladies-in-waiting.

It was not that Penny felt unwelcome in the elvish camp, just that the atmosphere had become such that she felt like she was intruding on something intensely personal and private. No one had said anything to her or given her any indication that she was not welcome, far from it, but even the ladies-in-waiting seemed to sense it also since they gratefully accepted Penny’s suggestion that they join her when she had headed over to sit with the Dunedain.

It had to be noted that for the next few days till they arrived at Edoras Aragorn would spend much of his time with his kinsmen also, as well as Eomer, Faramir and Imrahil. He was clearly giving Arwen time with her kin alone for those last few days together. Even Legolas seemed at one remove, in part because he had Gimli as a companion a lot of the time, but also because he was the only elf there not so hugely emotionally involved, which was not to say he remained wholly unaffected, merely not nearly as affected as everyone else. The hobbits too became regulars at the Dunedain fire.

No one really discussed the reasons why they had migrated away from elvish company, nor indeed were they avoiding the elves completely. They often spent time with them, had meals with them, and stayed to listen to some of the songs and tales afterwards, and indeed there were often a few elves seated with them around the Dunadain fire most evenings. Even so in those last few days before they arrived at Edoras, it seemed those who might otherwise have been intermingling with the elves for the entire night through felt it best to give them their space, their last precious moments with one who was held in high esteem amongst them all, dearly loved, cherished and a beauty the like of which had not been seen in generations. It just felt instinctively like the right thing to do.

It was then that Penny was truly grateful to have the Dunedain with her and in particular to have the close companionship of Halladan and Arvain. To have been left solely in the company of half a dozen ladies of Gondor, even if they were nothing like the awful Sidhwen, would have driven her to distraction. To be able to spend her evenings in the company of her two guardians, who really had become something akin to close friends or brothers to her, was a great relief. Evenings in the tent with Mireth and the others had become a strange affair, and it was the first time in a very long time that Penny had felt if not unwelcome in elvish company then certainly at one remove, an outside observer. Mireth did her best to be as bright and talkative as ever, but even Penny could see she was having to make an effort to be so. Far better, then, that Penny spend as much time as possible with Halladan and the rest, rather than make Mireth feel obliged to do something she was probably not in the mood for. Besides which, Penny felt Mireth would prefer to be in Celebdor’s company for these few days – the comforting presence of the one she loved.

The one positive thing that could be said was that the moment they had crossed the border, the Rohirrim seemed to be in better spirits once they were on familiar home ground. It had possibly helped, in large part, to lift the cloud of gloom over the mortal parts of the camp.

As the huge train had travelled west, following the line of the mountains, several times families from farmsteads and cottages had come and greeted them, one or two amongst them recognising men riding in the eored and calling out to them.

Once the funeral party had crossed the border, some subtle changes occurred in terms of a ‘shift of power’, as it were. It was now the Rohirrim in charge of directing where to set up camp, who took what watch and where those on guard duty would be stationed. In Gondor, while such decisions had been made to some extent by mutual agreement, there was a sense that the final say would lie with Aragorn or one of his deputies (most likely Faramir or Imrahil as the most senior of his lieutenants). Now it was the other way around – it was Eomer whose final word was sought, and those on guard duty deferred to Elfhelm and Erkenbrand’s directions. The travellers from Gondor were now the guests of Rohan, not the other way around.

One evening, only a few day’s ride from Edoras, a shy looking woman arrived at the camp, two young girls in tow, asking for the king. The first guard she encountered on the edge of the encampment was a Gondorian, so he unthinkingly directed her to be taken to Aragorn, forgetting, of course, that now they were in Rohan any locals would mean Eomer by such a term. She seemed somewhat bewildered at being presented to a man who was clearly no Rohirrim with his dark hair and grey eyes.

Fortunately Eomer was nearby and the confusion quickly passed. She bowed low to him, even though she was a good ten years his senior, and pushed the eldest child forward (who was no more than eight or so) who presented him with a basket of cakes. They were made from the last of her flour, the woman explained, but she could not let him and ‘the old king now passed away’ pass by her land without giving him homage.

Eomer would have refused to accept them were it not that it would have seemed insulting and ungracious. Instead he thanked the lady, and, on hearing she owned the nearby fields, asked for her name and that of her husband. He recognised her husband’s name immediately as one of those who had been killed at Helm’s Deep. He could have sworn the man had had four children, though, and here this woman only had two girls with her. The eldest was at home looking after the toddler, the woman explained.

The woman seemed a little haggard and tired. When Eomer asked her how she fared she tried to put a brave face on it, but at his insistence she was forced to admit it was only her and a cousin who lived some miles away who were able to tend the land now that she was a war widow.

“We manage,” she insisted, with a forced smile, but it was clear to all there that that was far from the truth.

No sooner had she left than Eomer spoke to Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, asking them to fetch someone within the eored who perhaps had known her husband well and might therefore know where her house might be found.

It was soon and easily done.

Eomer had two of his men ride out there later that night with a third horse laden with supplies and a bag of gold coins. Eomer had known better than to attempt to give her money at the camp – she would have only refused it.

His men also brought an offer from the king to hire some of her land from her on a regular basis and, if it would be acceptable, for him to position a caretaker to live on the land to help her tend to it – a man to protect the land and the family that owned it if need be.

The woman accepted gratefully, unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face.

It was a strange party that finally crossed the river and headed towards the valley, the Meduseld’s roof gleaming in the morning sun far ahead of them. They were numerous, tall and noble: the best and greatest of their Age and time. Among them rode kings, noble elves, a maia and the eight surviving members of the Fellowship, Ringbearers, Balrog-slayers, people about whom prophesies were told and songs were sung, each and every one (bar Penny, basically) a member of a good and noble race (albeit some were more noble than others, but that was not the point).

And yet…

As they had neared Edoras, the reason for their journey had begun to impress itself upon the Rohirrim more and more. Many songs were sung late into the night of Rohirric tales of heroism and daring, of kings and of Theoden in particular. The elves were still increasingly quiet and reserved, the Dunedain were, as always, content to socialise little and say less, and it all had a sobering effect on everyone else.

They ended the journey much as they had started it: in sombre sobriety, the great wain creaking its way near the head of the long train, the chatter quiet and sporadic, the few songs slow and filled with sorrow. As they neared the city itself, as crowds of silent Rohirrim began to line the way, many weeping and even the children stilled and quiet as the funeral bier rolled past them, the songs were entirely Rohirric ones, the eored singing as one, with the occasional blowing of horns every now and then.

At long last they stopped on the north side of the city, a little further away from the funeral mounds of the kings than where the elves had set up camp before.

Eomer and the eored did not dismount. Instead they waited for the rest to join them as the long snaking train wound its way through the tall, green grass of Rohan. Then the wain holding Theoden was taken in full pomp and honour, riders surrounding him, up into the city. Leading this, his last journey into his native city, were two kings, the greatest elves in Middle-earth, a Maia, and every remaining member of the Fellowship (thus representing between them the dwarves, the elves of Mirkwood and the Shire).

And perhaps the straightest in his place of them all was one who had not wavered once in his duty, who had stood by his king for at least an hour or more every night while they had journeyed, and ridden beside him every day.

As the horns sounded one long mournful note and the wain began to move slowly up the hill and past the mounds of the other fallen kings of Rohan, Merry adjusted his tunic, swallowed, and put on a determined air as he performed his duty by Theoden King one last time.

Author’s Notes:

Firstly, my sincere and abject apologies for the length of time this chapter has taken to appear. Those who keep half an eye on my LJ will know it was a combination of factors, most of it RL and limited computer time, that conspired against me. I think it’s only fair to presume this is a situation likely to continue for the foreseeable future. Thus assume a month between chapters (minimum) from now on, and if I get them out faster then consider that an unexpected bonus. I do write when I can and I post as soon as a chapter is ready. Sometimes things happen that mean I can rattle off a chapter in a fortnight or less, more recently RL has meant that’s going to be increasingly unlikely, I am afraid.

I should probably also apologise for the chapter title. Not my most favourite song in the world, indeed I remember when it was in the charts for ages and a day and it struck me then as one of the most irritating songs in the world since it refused to leave your head once it was in it. Of course, much the same thing happened with this title – once it popped into my head it refused to leave and it was so darn appropriate I had little choice but use it. So please do not throw stuff at me. :P

Thank you, as ever, to everyone still reading this things, and especially to those who take time out to comment and review, wander over to my LJ to say ‘hi’ or generally make their presence known. *hugs you all* It’s much appreciated.