Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

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"They've found her."

Jeren came to attention when she heard the news she'd been waiting for. She breathed a sigh of relief—they'd been looking for Haleth all morning.

Jeren was sitting down to her noon meal in the dining hall, when one of her fellow rangers just coming in the door imparted the news about the missing girl. This man, named Yuld, ever tried to be amusing, and usually he was, but today his words fell flat on her ears.

"Her body washed up on the near shore of the Bruinen, just south of the rapids, and Brid's patrol rescued her again, only this time she wasn't alive."

"The rapids?" someone shouted back. "She must've been insane."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Yuld replied. "And what a spiteful repayment she gave to Brid's patrol for saving her life the first time!" There were a few nervous chuckles from those within earshot, but his words only made Jeren feel sick to her stomach.

She felt as if cold water had been thrown in her face. She wanted to weep at this revelation, and to also shout at them all for being so very irreverent.

This morning they had been called to order here in the dining hall, as they were gathering to break their fasts. Halbarad had announced that each patrol would report to their captains immediately for search assignments, since the girl rescued from Orcs a few days ago had gone missing. She could not have fled during the night, as the gates on the wall were closed, but she must have left soon after dawn, when they were opened for the day. The night aid in the infirmary had drawn the curtain around Haleth's bed last evening before retiring to her room for the night, and when Lord Marach arrived this morning to check on the girl, she was nowhere to be seen.

Jeren's usually rabid appetite vanished completely and was replaced with an empty ache. She and the others of Joem's patrol had been searching all morning on the near bank of the river, to no avail. And now she knew why their hunt had been fruitless—Haleth had obviously made good on her wish to not live any more. The desperate girl's body had been found near the deepest, most treacherous current the Bruinen had to offer around here. Haleth must have waded into the rapids, been swept off her feet, and had then been caught by the rocks beneath the stream. She had literally drowned her sorrow in the swift-moving water.

Jeren wondered at the others around her who were now talking and laughing as if nothing untoward had occurred. Where was their respect for a girl so young, one forced to watch as her parents and brother were murdered before her eyes? Where was their caring that Orcs had wrenched an innocent from the only life she knew? How could they act as if their day had not been shattered by the death of one who had been alive and amongst them just this morning?

She got up from her chair, unable to abide them any longer. She tried not to blame them. They were asked to kill and risk their lives on an almost daily basis. Had she not also become somewhat inured to the killing and death around her? Was it only because she had identified with Haleth that she cared so much what had happened to her?

Jeren left the dining hall deep in thought about the tragedy of Haleth's short life. She paid no attention to where she was going, but was not surprised when she found herself at her Aunt Elenmere's door.

She knocked quietly and soon heard a "Come in, whoever you are," waft from the open window, the cheerful voice that of her aunt.

"Ah, Jeren!" Elen said with a smile as soon as she'd allowed her niece entrance into her small home. Her expression of happiness faded as she took a better look at the woman being seated at her kitchen table.

"What is it, dear?" Elen asked, her hands on Jeren's shoulders in concern.

"I am most troubled over the death of Haleth, the girl rescued from Orcs a few days ago."

Elen busied herself pouring Jeren a cup of tea. As she replaced the kettle onto the crane, but keeping it out of the hearth's fire, she said, "Ah, Jeren. It grieves me, too. 'Tis a tragedy. I cannot believe she is dead." Elen shook her head as she sat in the chair opposite Jeren's, stirring some honey into her own tea.

"Yes, Auntie, a tragedy," Jeren said sadly. She placed her hands around the cup her aunt had filled for her, not really needing the warmth it gave, but wanting its comfort nonetheless. "She ran to the river this morning sometime very early, probably as soon as the gates were opened. She was found washed up on the near bank."

Elen looked at Jeren, sympathy clear on her face. "You think she took her own life?" Elen's eyes searched Jeren's, as if she looked for answers to questions she could not fathom in her own mind.

"She did, Auntie," Jeren said, and a tear slipped down one of her cheeks. "I know that's exactly what she did. I knew she was distraught—that she wanted not to live. She told me so just the other day. But I truly did not believe she would ever do this."

Elen covered Jeren's hand with her own. "Of course you didn't, dear. No one in their right mind would even contemplate doing such a thing."

"But I feel to blame, Elen. As if there were something I might could have said that should have been a comfort to her. I told her about how the Orcs had abused me, just as they had done to her, and Elrohir told her my entire story. What else we could have done, I know not. She did not give herself enough time to allow the pain to lessen, or to really listen to what Elrohir and I tried to tell her..." Jeren's voice trailed off, as more tears spilled from her eyes.

"Jeren, honey," Elen said, "you must not torture yourself. You tried to help her. Aragorn told me you were the only one she trusted."

"That's just it, Elen!" Jeren said through a throat tight with tears. "She trusted me, and I did nothing for her!"

"You know that is not true," Elen said, trying once again to lift Jeren's spirits. "You did all you could, and we both know that in order to be helped, a person must first be willing to help themselves."

Jeren used a napkin that Elen had given her with her cup of tea to wipe at her reddened eyes.

"Elrohir visited with me just before you arrived," Elen said with a small smile on her face. "'Tis a wonder you did not bump noses with him on your way in!" She waited for some sign that she had lightened Jeren's mood, but was not thusly rewarded, so she finally went on. "He is feeling much the same way that you do. Perhaps the two of you could find solace together?"

"I feel almost as if Elrohir is angry at me for some reason, Auntie," Jeren explained. "He avoids me when he can and when he cannot, he is just not himself when he is around me. I doubt I will gain much solace from him."

"Elrohir is angry, yes," Elen said in her quietest voice. "But I think it has to do with something else, and not you. He is not himself with anyone, Jeren." Elen's subdued tone made Jeren glance up into her aunt's face, because Elen was almost always bubbling with enthusiasm, even when one would not think it should be so, and Jeren suddenly realized that her aunt was more solemn than she should have been, in spite of the topic of their conversation.

"Elen, is all right with you and your family?"

Elen's smile was exactly where it should have been, but it did not light up her eyes as it usually did. "Of course, my sweet niece. Everyone is well. The boys and James and Jamesica—even little Charlie, asleep in the next room, is taking his nap like a good lad."

"You do not seem yourself, Auntie," Jeren said, her brows drawn down to cloud her face even more.

"As I said before, Elrohir was here earlier and I worry for him, is all. But everything else is very right in my world!" She smiled warmly at Jeren, and Jeren knew with certainty that whatever had preoccupied Elen before had vanished. Elen asked Jeren if she wanted her tea re-warmed, since her niece had not even tasted it before it grew cold. Jeren conceded, and Elen rose to dump Jeren's cup out the front window. Elen moved the crane, on which hung the kettle, over the fire again to wait for the water to heat.

"Getting back to our Elven friend," Elen said, "you might not find solace from him, but I am not sure he would not benefit from your presence. He feels the failure with Haleth even more so than you do, I think."

"That, too, is my fault," Jeren said. "I am the one who suggested he see her."

They were interrupted when they heard little feet scamper across the floor to them.

"Mama!" little Charlie cried out as he ran to hug Elen around the knees. At first he buried his face in her apron, but then he glanced up at his mother, a beaming smile on his face.

Jeren held her arms out to Charlie then, and he ran to her next. She picked him up and sat him on her lap, and as she did, it struck her how very much like Elen he looked—the same big, bright blue eyes—the same wide beaming smile. At almost three, little Charlie was a very handsome lad.

He was still a little sleepy from his nap, so he laid his face against Jeren's breast.

A stab of wistfulness pierced her heart. She'd never much thought about having any children of her own, but having one of Charlie's little hands holding fast to her tunic brought yearnings to her she never thought to experience. And having her arms full of life was helping to chase all thoughts of death from her mind.

"Mama," Charlie said, "Where's Sissy?" He couldn't pronounce the words very well, but he could be understood. Jeren wanted to laugh for the first time all day.

"Outside playing swords, I imagine," Elen said with a knowing look at Jeren.

"I'm sorry, Auntie," Jeren said with just a wee bit of contriteness—because she wasn't much sorry at all—"I know I shouldn't encourage Jamesica."

Elen laughed, completely herself again. "I'd have it no other way. Jamesica seems to have been born more boy than girl. I've all but quit fighting it, most of the time. And she couldn't have a better woman to emulate than you, Jeren. If that's the price I must pay to have you here with us, then it is a price well worth paying.

Now it was Jeren who was beaming. She never dreamed to be a part of a real family, but the dream had found her, in the form of her Aunt Elen and her wonderful brood.

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Elrohir gazed out at the horses in the pasture. They were still beautiful in his eyes, even though most had been too badly injured for a ranger to ride at the present or were too old to join in the hunts any more. He hooked his booted foot up on the narrow, rough-hewn plank of the fence and leaned on the top rail with his forearms.

Jasper, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, was the oldest horse out here. This afternoon he had recognized the Elf and had come up to the fence to be scratched. Elrohir obliged him, rubbing between Jasper's eyes till the old horse closed them in some sort of equine ecstasy. The Elf then ran his hand down the horse's long face, and scratched for a moment under his chin. Jasper nibbled at Elrohir's outstretched palm, and then snorted when the treat he expected wasn't there. Elrohir smiled and wiped his hand on the horse's sleek neck.

Elrohir had come out here to get away from everyone and everything. His mood was so black, he wondered that the horses could not feel it, but they seemed not to fret. He was glad, because he needed to be near things that breathed—but that also could not talk.

Elrohir thought of Anardil as he stroked Jasper's old hide. Many times Jasper had carried the man on Orc hunts, even to the very last one in which Anardil had been wounded and had ultimately lost his battle against a poison that ate at his flesh from the inside out. And that's just how Elrohir felt now—as if something were gnawing at him, and it festered in his mind, until one day it would eat its way to the outside, no longer to be kept secret.

He'd not even told Elladan—in fact, as soon as Elrohir had become aware of this toxic truth, he'd closed it off in a corner of his mind, so that his twin would be none the wiser. Even though they shared a mysterious link of minds, neither of the brothers kept their thoughts entirely open to the other, so Elladan would not even notice anything was amiss. Nothing except for this constant bad mood Elrohir seemed to be unable to shake. Elladan had not remarked on Elrohir's attitude yet, but it was only a matter of time. Elrohir would not have lasted this long, had the situation been reversed, and it had been Elladan growing more morose with each passing day. He was lucky Elladan was more patient than he.

Elrohir laughed to himself. Elladan patient? Not in his experience he wasn't. So why his twin was giving him all this space, Elrohir could not guess, he was only thankful that he was.

And today? Shouting at Elen for no good reason. He owed the woman an apology, but could not bring himself to face her yet. All she had done was to ask him how Jeren had taken the news of Haleth's death, and he had answered her sharply, telling her did not know nor did he have the will to find out.

Haleth. The poor, misguided girl; taking her own life. So convinced there was no future for her. At first thought, if one compared the stories of Jeren and Haleth, Elrohir would have said that Jeren had been the more damaged of the two. Then why had Haleth done as she had? Why did Jeren find a way out of the despair that had haunted her after her attack by Orcs, and why had Haleth succumbed to the darkness? Perhaps because Jeren had only her own misfortune to mourn, and Haleth had not just her own trial to bring despair to her, but also the deaths of her entire family heaped upon that.

Elrohir nodded slowly. Haleth died because her heart was broken—her entire world had been shattered. While Jeren had been brutalized and tortured, at least she had not also been made witness to the ruination of all she held dear.

Elrohir gave Jasper a final pat, once again tamping all his dark thoughts down into a corner of his mind, to keep them there hidden away. He turned and went to join the others in the hall. He had a raid on some Orcs to plan with Estel and Elladan. The Orcs Elladan had brutalized had told of a gathering, of sorts, this coming week.

Elrohir sighed as he thought about his brother and how he had inflicted pain so severe, that not just one but two Orcs had told of the secret rendezvous a few days from now. At the time, he'd not interfered, like he had done many times in the past, as his brother tortured the brutes; he knew that he had no right to pass any sort of judgment on Elladan—not when his own heart felt withered and vile.

He sighed again. There was much to be decided and much more to be done, if the rangers were to be ready to ride out tomorrow.

Jasper whickered softly as Elrohir walked away.

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The rendezvous point the captured Orcs had revealed to Elladan was threateningly close to the stronghold. It made Aragorn and the twins take pause when they looked at the map and confirmed their fear. All had known of the rocky, cavern-pocked place, and that it was very close to the Dúnedain settlement, but had not dared to believe just how near it lay until they'd looked at their maps. It lay due east, across the Bruinen, not even two hours distant.

The three had spent the better part of the afternoon in the alcove, hammering out their strategy to take the Orcs by surprise five days hence. They had then called in the captains and had explained all to them, answering questions and taking their suggestions into account. So tonight, directly after the evening meal, they were ready to announce the plans to the rangers as a group.

Since it was such a large undertaking, all the patrols plus Aragorn and the twins would be involved. Halbarad and several other men, including one from each of the six patrols, would be left in place in the stronghold for defense, should it become necessary, but the majority of the rangers would be gone on the rout; they were sure it could be nothing but a success, since it would be a surprise venture.

"We need volunteers, one from each patrol, to stay behind and man the stronghold, since all patrols will go on this mission," Aragorn said. "There is the chance that the information we came by is wrong, and their numbers will be greater than reported, hence our added strength. Of course, since one can never trust an Orc, there is also the chance the whole report was a ruse, made up to best us on a level they understand, and make us gather for naught. I do not expect an onslaught of the settlement in our absence, but the gates will remain closed and we will prepare for any eventuality."

The rangers looked at each other. To a man, none ever wanted to be left behind. Had they had the time, they might have cast lots to decide their fate, but the Chieftain was waiting. Slowly a few hands rose reluctantly into the air.

Jeren had never voluntarily stayed behind on a mission, but this time she raised her hand. She had just gotten back from a six-week patrol, and could easily use the rest. And it was only fair that she occasionally take her turn staying behind.

Aragorn accepted the volunteers from the other five patrols, but when it came to Joem's patrol, he stopped. "We will need your bow, Jeren," he said plainly. "Another volunteer?"

Someone else from their group raised his hand and the meeting continued, Aragorn telling the where and why of the mission.

"We leave at dawn. Questions?" Aragorn said in conclusion. When no one raised a hand or voiced any doubt, Aragorn dismissed the meeting.

Rhyse poked Jeren in the ribs, moving subtly so no one else could see what he'd done. But she felt it and jumped, turning toward him with a scowl on her face.

"What?"

"Why did you try to volunteer to stay?" he asked, sounding as if he were a little put out by her decision. She had certainly not mentioned it to him beforehand. But he knew her well enough by now to know that her mind was her own, and she would bristle at even a hint that he might be trying to direct her life in any way.

Jeren did not answer him. She was tired and disheartened over Haleth's death. That was reason enough for her.

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"I suppose this will be the last time we can be together for awhile," Jeren told Rhyse wistfully as they lay on her bed. In the light from the only candle she'd lit earlier, he looked so young. And he was—a full two years younger than she was. The difference did not bother her most of the time, but on nights like tonight—when she felt so ancient and tired—she had much trouble reconciling herself to the fact. She traced her finger along his profile. He captured her hand and turned toward her.

"Then let's make the most of it, shall we?" he asked, as he took her into his arms and drew her closer. He kissed her, and then his lips left a searing trail down her neck. He paused to untie her tunic and small shirt, and pulling both aside, he continued his assault on her throat and down onto her shoulder.

Jeren lacked a certain enthusiasm, as if her mind were elsewhere. Rhyse had been trying to bring her out of her melancholy for most of the evening they had spent together, but had failed miserably. This was his one last attempt before he would be giving up and calling it a night.

He propped himself up on one elbow. "Sweetness," he said, as he brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, "what can I do to make you feel better?"

Jeren smiled, and Rhyse could not tell if there was any mirth behind it at all. "If you could bring Haleth back, and make her tell me why she killed herself, then mayhap I could let it go. But I do not think that is within your power, Honeycakes." Rhyse knew he had struck a nerve, not only by the words she'd spoken, but also by the upward tilt of one of her eyebrows.

His laugh at the strange endearment she'd given him echoed in the small room, but then he kissed her lips briefly. Jeren didn't like the pet names people sometimes gave each other, thus Rhyse had used one to help bring her out of her mood. Temper was better than sadness, to his way of thinking.

"Besides that, then," he said. "What would you have me do?"

Jeren looked at him, the seduction she saw written on his face she felt sure must now be reflected in hers. "Love me, Rhyse," she said, as her hands started working the ties of his tunic. "Love me until I am happy again."

"That sounds like a challenge!" he said, his smile infectious. "I believe I'm well up to it, my lady."

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Rhyse felt as if he'd climbed a mountain in the heat of summer. His skin was slick with sweat and his muscles quivered from all the effort he'd put into the challenge that Jeren had given him. He should have been victorious. She should be shouting from top of the wall about how well loved she was. Yet Jeren's face still held some traces of her prior sadness.

When he had caught his breath, he propped himself up on one elbow to study her more closely. While no one would have ever called Jeren beautiful, he thought her striking—and he loved every inch of her. From her soulful gray eyes—which were closed at the moment—to her high cheekbones and down to her slightly pointed chin; the scar marring the space between her breasts; all the way down to her toes—she was all he would ever want or need. He lifted his hand to trace the scar that ran beside her left eye. Angrily he thought he would never be able to kill enough Orcs in order for the beasts to pay sufficiently for what they had done to her. But all she had been through was part of what made her as she was, and he could never regret that.

Jeren smiled as Rhyse's finger touched the skin of her face. She opened her eyes to see his frown. "What is wrong, Rhyse?" she asked. "Did I not live up to the challenge either?"

He clamped his teeth together, acting as if the slight made him angry, but instead of a spoken tirade, he began tickling her. She did not last long under his onslaught.

"I concede!" she laughed, as she batted at his hands. "You were magnificent! You have more than surpassed what I challenged!"

"That is better!" he declared, as he flopped back down on the bed beside her. After a few moments of catching his breath again, he said, "'Tis good to hear your laugh, Jeren."

"It feels good to be laughing. Thank you, Rhyse—for putting a smile back on my face and in my heart."

But as they lay there together, with Rhyse on his side watching her again, her smile faded once more.

"Do not tell me I'm going to have to keep this up all night," he said, his tone no longer playful, but more sensual.

Jeren smiled again. "No, you have to keep nothing up, Rhyse."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and laughed heartily again. "You are a wicked, wicked lady," he finally said. "But tell me; are you truly sad about Haleth again?"

"No," she admitted, "that is not what has my heart dragging now." She looked at him, to drive home the point she was about to make. "Now do not be laughing, or thinking I am jesting with you—" She paused, as if indecisive about whether to continue or not.

"I promise I won't laugh," Rhyse said when it was apparent Jeren might not finish what she had been saying. He settled them both down in the bed, her head in the crook of his arm. "I will not laugh," he said again, to reemphasize the point.

"It is just that I know you'll be taking your leave of me now, and that makes me sad. I wish that you could stay with me tonight—hold me like this. It makes me feel safe from everything when you do."

"You know that since we are off on another mission early tomorrow, I must be in my own bunk in the morning."

"I wish you never had to leave."

"We could be together all the time, were we wed," he said, his tone sensible.

Jeren seemed to think about that for a moment, but then she smiled.

"Let's do get married, Rhyse!" she said excitedly. "As soon as we are back from this mission, I say we get Lord Aragorn to perform the rite, and we can be together always. There's no reason to wait any longer, is there?"

He kissed her soundly and then said, "No reason whatsoever to wait."

"You could move in up here with me," Jeren said. "It's a little small, but what more room do we need? We take our meals in the dining hall, so there's no need for any kitchen or stove."

"It sounds like a wonderful life," he said, his voice genuinely happy. "I will!"

"You will what?"

"I will marry you! It was so kind of you to ask."

Jeren took her pillow and smacked him soundly in the face, but he grabbed it from her and settled them back down again. After a few minutes of contented silence, he added, "I love you Jeren. It will make my life complete were you to become my wife. If I were to die tomorrow, I would die a happy man."

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A/N I Want to thank the reviewers who took the time to leave a note. A heartfelt THANKS goes out to Elf in a Bottle, Song in the Woods, and Sadie Sil. It means so much to have feedback, and I appreciate every note anyone might leave.