"This is no time for a battle of wills, my Queen," Gwern said, his voice lowering, but still hard. "You know we have to do this!"

She didn't disagree, but it rankled to yield to him. She wished very badly to win an argument and hear him say "Yes, my Queen, I see that you are right."

"Do it," she said, pushing aside the childish instinct.

Gwern's eyes, fiery from their argument, turned in an instant to warm, liquid brown, an amazing transformation. Amade heart twisted painfully in her chest under his gaze. He reached his hand out and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

He was her Chief Marshal and adviser. He had been a Commander under her father, but had become the Marshal of her armies and her counsellor since a year ago after her father's death. He was the only man in her kingdom that scolded her as she sat on the throne.

"I will ride with you to Gondor," she said, preparing herself for another argument, but Gwern merely frowned for a moment and then inclined his head.

She watched him leave and felt a wave of apprehension washing over her.

Outside in the hall, Lord Bain waited for her.

"We ride to war," she told the old man who was the closest thing to family Amade had left. Bain inclined his head to show his approval of this decision. Amade considered her two counsellors, the older Bain, ever gentle and diplomatic, and Chief Marshal Gwern, with his undiluted bluntness.

Two days later, riding south alongside Gwern and Bain, an army of seven hundred of her countrymen riding behind them, Amade felt strengthened by the single-mindedness of their purpose. They rode to Gondor's aid in the falling darkness. The Northmark was but a small country, but they still had strength.

She glanced across at Gwern, and found him watching her.

"Are you afraid?" he asked her, his eyes piercing like talons.

"Yes," she said truthfully. "Aren't you?"

"I'd be a fool otherwise," he admitted, clenching his jaw. He turned to the road and she watched his profile, his dark long hair combed backwards away from his tall forehead, his hawkish nose and strong face. His dark eyebrows drawn together in a scowl that made his soldiers shake in their boots.

"My queen, Commander Raghel has been fighting alongside me for some time," Gwern said looking straight ahead. "He is wise, honourable and strong. Should I not return, I wish to recommend him to you."

Amade hissed in a quick breath when she realized where this discussion was leading. She glanced angrily at him.

"Must we discuss this?!" she snapped. Her heartbeat tripped out of rhythm. She pulled her horse sideways and fell out of step with Gwern. He watched her go without saying a word.

Before night fell they set camp. They were half a day's ride from Gondor and if they rose early enough in the morning, they would reach the white city before noon. Bain and Gwern had supper with the Queen in her tent. They were quiet through the meal, but afterwards talked about the rumoured heir of Elendil and the implications of a king's return to Gondor.

They retired and Amade tried to sleep. Past midnight she rose and wrapping a cloak around her night shirt, she walked out of her tent and found Gwern by the fire. He was sitting quietly, looking into the flames, smoking his pipe. He was still wearing his leather armour over his riding clothes, the brown woven leather stretched out over his broad back as he slumped forward. She stood a few steps away from him, looking into the orange flames. Noticing her, he stood and bowed his head.

"I have no interest in promoting Commander Raghel, none at all," she told him crossly. "If you wish to advance him, you'd better do it yourself when we return to the Northmark."

He smiled at her. His teeth were strong and white, but crooked. It gave his grins a fierce edge.

"Understood," he said softly. His eyes met hers briefly, and then he looked down at his feet and his hair covered his face.

He offered her a seat on the log and she took it. He stood beside her and turned his attention back to the pipe and the flames.

"My Queen," he said after some time, "perhaps it would be wise to disguise yourself tomorrow."

"How so?" she inquired.

"A woman's clothes may attract unwanted attention should we encounter any enemies on our road."

"I see. You want to see me in breaches."

He choked and coughed. When he glanced her way, he found that she was smiling. His hands busied themselves cleaning his pipe. Amade watched them with her usual fascination. How could a man and a warrior have such strong, elegant hands?

"I am only concerned for your safety, my Queen." A vein pulsed at his temple.

"If you can find me such attire between now and tomorrow morning, I will do as you wish."

He inclined his head but made no move to leave.

"Ah, I see. You have prepared already." She scoffed. "You are always so sure that I will do what you say!" she said crossly.

"Not at all, my Queen," he said softly. "I am merely prepared."

"No, you are always telling me what to do," she complained.

"I give you only honest council, my queen."

"Aye, you give me an earful of honesty at every turn!" she exclaimed, but her tone had softened. "Stay! I value your counsel, Gwern," she said after some time.

He bowed slightly, his eyes meeting hers, and she saw in them the warm, unguarded expression of pride and affection he sometimes gave her, when he was not angry or arguing over something she'd done or not done right. Her heart clenched painfully and she stared at the flames.

"You should try to get some rest, my Queen," he said softly.

"So should you, Gwern."

"I will stay but a while longer," he promised, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. Her hand felt very cold in his warm one, and he covered it between with both of his, an instinctive gesture.

"Go!" he said.

"As you command, my lord," she said with mock submissiveness.