Haleth woke up in a fine linen bed, her dark head resting on a soft down pillow. She sat up, and found most of her wounds were completely healed. There was a set of clothing on a table beside her bed, and she put them on. They were magnificently comfortable: the workmanship of Elven weavers. Caranthir had made sure that all her people were well taken care of, and made sure that she herself had been cared for by his best healers. He watched her emerge from the hallway, greeted by the embraces and handshakes of her people, those who had survived and been fully healed.
A servant showed her to the feasting table where she could eat to her fill. She piled food upon her platter and wondered around the room, participating in short conversations. From their interaction, Caranthir perceived that her people would need her strength in the times to come. He stood now in a dark corner of the room, quietly observing the feast. The surrounding merry-making did not amuse him, so he stood there, observing. He was suddenly aware of someone at his side.
"My lord," her low voice said softly. She made a small curtsy, her eyes shyly darting this way and that.
"Lady," he relied, and reached out with his hand and tilted her face up, forcing her to do what she wished but somehow couldn't.
"Thank you," she said. He raised an eyebrow in query. "For the dress. I've never felt anything so soft to touch, and yet strong and flexible." She played with the fabric, as if demonstrating. He took a step closer to her.
"You are welcome, lady. I pray you are well?"
"Yes," she paused. "But for this scar," she gestured to a half healed slash in her cheek. "It is still quite sore, and itchy." Her dark eyes followed his hand as he reached the short distance to her small face. She flinched as his fingers came near the scar.
The surprise on her face showed that she felt nothing as the tips gently brushed the wound. He brought his hand around to the other side of her face, gently drawing his knuckles over her smooth cheek. She took a step toward him, closing the small space between them. His mouth was on hers, his hands in hair, on her shoulders, finally around her waist. Her hands held his arms, pulling him closer to her.
Suddenly someone walked within close proximity to their shadowed corner. They separated, realizing their rashness. They moved into a more populated area in the room. The sat beside each other in silence for a long while. Caranthir spoke to her, his words coming out in a whisper.
"Lady," he began.
"Haleth," she corrected with a wistful half-smile.
Caranthir amended: "Haleth. I must ask you something."
"Of course,"
"What will you do now?"
"Now?" she asked, puzzled.
"After so much loss?"
"Oh." She closed her eyes and looked away, her eyes brimming. For a while she didn't say anything. Caranthir waited patiently. Haleth turned her eyes back on him. "I do not know," she said softly.
"I will say this to you, then." He paused, shifting in his seat to regard her more easily. "If you will remove and dwell further north, you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar, and free lands of your own," he offered. Haleth stared at him, her eyes widened. "You needn't answer now, of course.
She nodded, unable to speak for a few moments. "I will speak with my people," was all she said as she rose to do as she had spoken. He watched her gather the elders of her people. He rose from his chair and left for his chambers.
Hours passed. Caranthir made his way back to the same room the feast had been in, now dark with night, and empty. He picked up some of the leftover food and sat at the table. His Elvin ears heard the soft pattering of footsteps, and turned to see Haleth approaching him, carrying a lamp, which she set on the table.
He stood and made ready to greet her, but she held her hand up to stop him. He saw that she was nervous, and knew her answer before she spoke it. "My people grow weary of this place, my lord," she said softly. "I am truly thankful for your generous offer," she said hurriedly. "However, my mind is now set, lord, to leave the shadow of the mountain, and go west, wither others of our kin have gone." She reached her hand to touch his face, but decided against it halfway to it. Quickly withdrawing her hand, she curtsied, and turned to depart. Over her shoulder she murmured, "We depart in the morning," and turned the corner to the hallway. Caranthir watched her walk away, not knowing whether he was full of sadness or anger.
Morning came, and Caranthir was out and about, seeing that the Haladin had whatever they needed. When all were ready to depart, he met with Haleth one last time. They embraced and shook hands. She turn her dark eyes on his face and whispered, "I am sorry to leave, and yet not. It seems that fate would have us go elsewhere." She smiled.
He nodded, his Elvin face full of wisdom. "Yes. Fate, it seems, has other plans." He lead her to her horse, and clasped her hand as she mounted. He brought it to his lips, kissing her hand gently.
"Namarië," she murmured as she spurred her horse.
"And you," he replied.