Chapter Nine

Lothíriel left for Dol Amroth the following morning, accompanied by an escort of a dozen guards and two of her maids. Each soldier was carrying extra gear for the White Mountain passes, and all of them had brought thick cloaks—even this late in the season, there was still the possibility of encountering snow.

Such was the queen's haste that Gúthwyn did not have the chance to say so much as "good morning" to her before she left, an oversight that was perhaps intentional on both sides. She watched from the stairs as Lothíriel embraced Elfwine, then exchanged a stiff farewell with Éomer, who seemed not to know if he should hug her or kiss her cheek and in the end did neither.

Once the last of the horses passed through the city gates, Elfwine decided that he wanted to observe them from the watchtower, and since Éomer had a meeting it was Legolas who volunteered to go with him. Off they went, Legolas at a slight jog to keep up with Elfwine's frenzied sprint, Éomer shouting after Elfwine not to knock anyone over.

Gúthwyn followed them down the main road, intending to catch up later; first, she would stop by the blacksmith's and see if Magar, Aldeth's father, was available. Over the last couple of weeks she had made several attempts to drop in on him, each time foiled by a lingering customer or by Magar having gone into his house—and she had no desire to cause a spate of new rumors by disappearing behind closed doors with a widower. What she needed was for him to be in the forge, alone, so she could interrogate him about Hammel without the risk of interruption.

The forge was attached to Magar house, and peculiarly oriented: instead of opening out onto the street, it was turned so that anyone wishing to step inside would have to walk around to the back. There were in fact only two walls—one that was shared with the house, and one that faced the street, shielding Magar from the glances of passersby as he worked—but although the side visible from Meduseld was open, Magar had blocked it with a series of tables and benches, making it plain that he did not welcome idle visitors.

Praying that there would be no customers today, Gúthwyn cautiously approached from the side and surveyed the interior. For once, she was in luck: Magar was bent over the anvil, hammering a piece of iron into what looked like the beginnings of a sword. Even stooped over, he was a tall man, with broad shoulders that would make someone think twice about challenging him. Most of his grizzled hair had been shorn off, presumably to keep it out of his face while he worked, and his skin and clothes were coated in a thin sheen of grime.

She had hoped for an unobserved moment to catch her bearings—even from where she stood, it was uncomfortably hot, reminding her of the days she had spent in Isengard—but somehow, over the clanking of metal against iron, Magar heard her and glanced up.

"Lady Gúthwyn," he said, silver-grey eyes meeting hers. He did not look surprised to see her there. "Come around the back. What can I do for you?"

She did not waste time with pleasantries; like many of her people, Magar preferred directness to delicacy. "I wanted to talk to you about Hammel."

Magar nodded, as if he had guessed as much. "Just a minute," he said, gesturing to the glowing iron in his hand. "I need to finish this before it sets."

While he worked, Gúthwyn used the time to gather her thoughts, to decide how best to raise her concerns. She did not want to sound overly accusing, but at the same time she was astonished that she had never told her he was letting Hammel do odd jobs for him, and she felt as if he had betrayed her in some way, from one parent to another.

When he was done, and had set the blade aside to cool, she waited until she could see his eyes and asked, "How long has Hammel been working for you?"

Magar could have given Cobryn a run for his money—there was no flicker of expression as she spoke, nothing in the way of alarm nor guilt. "He told you, then?"

"What?" Caught off-guard by his lack of remorse, Gúthwyn gaped at him for a few seconds before she collected herself. "No, it was Aldeth, but that is not the point—why did I not hear it from you?"

Magar folded his arms—not menacingly, but not in a way that invited confidences, either. "He asked me not to say anything. I saw no harm in it."

Incredulous, Gúthwyn retorted, "That was not your decision to make!"

"He was insistent."

"Never mind how insistent he was! He is my… my responsibility…" Gúthwyn faltered—she had almost said my child, and she was sure Magar had noticed. Trying to cover up her mistake, she added, "And if our roles had been reversed, I would have done you the courtesy of telling you where Aldeth was spending all her time!"

Her rising voice had little to no effect on him; it was as if he were a rock protruding from the ocean, she a wave dashing itself to pieces against this greater, immovable force. When she had fallen silent, he said, "I did not know who he was at first."

What does that matter? she wanted to shout at him, and she almost did—but something told her that if she interrupted, she would have a much harder time getting information out of him.

"He used to sit out here," Magar said, gesturing towards the back of the shop. Even though she had just come in that way, Gúthwyn had been so focused on confronting the blacksmith that she had paid little attention to her surroundings. Now she looked and saw a bare stretch of dirt, just wide enough for a cart to pass through, before the ground dropped and became a rocky slope. From it, one would have a sweeping view of the surrounding plains, not to mention the comings and goings of the shop, but the main street was almost completely obscured. It was a lonely place, and nowhere for a boy to be playing.

"I thought he was up to something," Magar continued, "so I kept an eye on him. But usually he had a book with him, and he got out of my way when deliveries or customers came, so I let him be. I saw him, once, getting teased by a group of boys his age, and I figured he was trying to stay out of their sights."

He paused, as if expecting Gúthwyn to speak, but her throat had closed up. Was this what Hammel had been doing whenever she was at the training grounds, thinking she could leave the children to their own devices because they were no longer in Mordor? Unable or unwilling to make friends, skulking behind the blacksmith's to avoid all human contact?

"Soon I noticed he was watching me half the time, especially when I had something over the fire. Before then, I had hardly managed to get a word out of him, but one day he asked how I made the furnaces so hot. And after that, he had hundreds of questions, until finally I told him that if he was going to keep tugging my ear, he might as well make himself useful."

"You put him to work for you?" Gúthwyn asked, not knowing whether to be amused or annoyed.

"I gave him simple chores any child could do—had him sweep the floors, clean some old tools gathering dust, fetch things from the shelves if I needed them. I thought he would eventually get tired of it and go back to playing on the street, but he never did, never said a word of complaint. I asked him if his parents minded him being here so often, and he told me they were fine with it."

Furious, Gúthwyn opened her mouth, but Magar cut her off with a sharp look. "I knew he was lying. He always hid when customers came into the shop—plainly he did not want anyone to see him there. But it was not until Aldeth told me that I found out he belonged to you. So I asked him, and still he insisted that you were not to know, that you would never understand."

Gúthwyn began to protest, but Magar held up his hand. "He was at that age where they begin keeping secrets—I once caught Aldeth trying to burn her bedsheets in my furnace when her courses started. So I told him I would not lie to you if you asked, but otherwise I would keep my mouth shut."

And you never asked. He did not say it, but Gúthwyn heard it—and shame pooled through her, for he would have been right. Hammel had always returned to the Golden Hall in time for meals, and he had never missed one of his sword lessons; in between, she had assumed he was off reading books, and she had never thought to question what else he might be doing.

As angry with herself as she was at the blacksmith, she cried, "You should have told me anyway! Never mind what he wanted, he was a child, you had no right—"

"And if I had told you, he would have stopped coming, and then where would he have gone? Back to play with the boys who were mocking him? To hole up inside all day with one of those books? How would that have been in his best interests, hm?" When Gúthwyn could not form a response, he shook his head. "Whatever quarrel lies between the two of you, it is none of my business. His reasons are his own, you will have to take it up with him."

"Yes, I can see that," she said stiffly. "Well, then, I suppose I ought to thank you for keeping an eye on him, though I would have preferred to have been informed of his whereabouts. I will not pretend to think you made the right decision, or that it was even your decision to make."

Magar nodded, and she suspected it did not matter to him one way or another what she pretended to think, which only irritated her further. But it was no use arguing with him—she already knew he would not be swayed, and getting into a heated dispute with the sole blacksmith in Edoras would put Éomer in an awkward position.

"Father, I—" Aldeth's voice rose as she opened the door leading from the house to the shop, only to come to a precipitous halt when she noticed their visitor. "Lady Gúthwyn!" she exclaimed, looking oddly flustered as she dropped into a curtsy. "I did not know you were here."

"Hello, Aldeth. I was just passing by." Gúthwyn's smile, though strained, was sincere—here, at least, was one person who was not hiding anything from her.

Aldeth glanced at her father, but Magar's expression was quite inscrutable. "I just made lunch," she said hesitantly. "Would you like to join us?"

Under different circumstances, Gúthwyn would have leaped at the chance to get to know the woman Hammel had set his heart on, but Magar's presence made her reconsider. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I was just going to find my nephew. Perhaps another time?" When it is just the two of us.

Aldeth seemed disappointed, but she covered it up with another curtsy. Gúthwyn exchanged a rather stilted set of farewells with Magar, then left the shop, unable to resist looking at the place where Hammel had once hidden from his tormentors. The small, barren strip of land was like a silent reproach, the culmination of all her failures as a parent.

Passing others on the street, she returned their waves with a small smile, but she did not slow down to speak to anyone. All her thoughts were on Hammel, reconstructing his past, wondering what she was still missing after all these years. Why had he not wanted her to know that he was spending time with the blacksmith? Had he already hated her by then, or had there been another reason? How long ago had she lost his confidence, not realizing until it was too late?

Her disquieted musings brought her to the city gates; there she halted and looked up at the walls, shading her face against the sun. At first she thought Legolas and Elfwine had returned to Meduseld, but then she caught a glimpse of uncovered golden hair in the tower above. Pushing aside her worries about Hammel, at least until she could talk to Cobryn, she tightened her cloak against the wind and began climbing.

As she neared the top step, she saw Legolas and Elfwine standing close together, Elfwine on tiptoes in order to see over the wall. Yet Lothíriel and her guard must have long ago disappeared from view, for Elfwine's attention was turned to Legolas.

"Do you know my uncle Amrothos?" Gúthwyn heard him ask.

"I only met him twice," Legolas said quietly.

Elfwine lowered his heels, then looked back up at Legolas. "Do you like him?"

Although Elfwine had no idea what had transpired between her and Amrothos, his questions were making Gúthwyn uneasy, and she thought it would be best to spare Legolas from answering.

"There you are," she said loudly, drawing their attention. Elfwine, she noticed, whirled around with a guilty start.

Legolas smiled when he saw her, but the slightest crinkle of his brow told her that he was relieved the conversation had been interrupted. "We were just about to head back. It must be almost time for lunch."

Elfwine seemed very enthusiastic about this prospect. "Can we go now?"

Gúthwyn and Legolas agreed, and Elfwine all but ran down the steps, pausing only to apologize after a near-collision with a guard.

"He was asking me about Amrothos," Legolas murmured as Elfwine's footsteps clattered below them.

"I heard, and that was why I spoke when I did," Gúthwyn admitted. "I know he is curious about everything, but I thought it best to end that particular line of inquiry."

"Yes, he is curious," Legolas said, slowing their progress down the stairs. "But he seemed—"

"Auntie Gúthwyn! Leggy!" Elfwine had stormed back up to find them, and now his eyes were narrowed—Gúthwyn could not tell if it was worry or suspicion that flickered within their depths. "What are you talking about?"

"Just lunch, little one," Gúthwyn said cheerfully. "I am quite hungry."

Elfwine seemed satisfied with this explanation, but he did not let them out of his sight for the rest of the way back to Meduseld, and there was no opportunity for Legolas to finish his sentence, nor for Gúthwyn to recount her conversation with Magar. But it was no matter—she would be able to confide in Legolas soon enough, and meanwhile a meal with him and her nephew sounded like the perfect antidote to a distinctly unsatisfying morning.


"No, I had no idea," Cobryn said later that afternoon when Gúthwyn told him about her visit to the blacksmith's. Legolas and Elfwine had gone to the archery range again, and she was taking advantage of her inquisitive nephew's absence to ask Cobryn if he had ever detected such an unusual relationship between Hammel and Magar.

"Well, perhaps that is not quite true," he amended at her beseeching look. "Like you, I noticed that he had developed an interest in blacksmithing. And a couple of times I did see him loitering near the shop, especially when he was younger. I always assumed it was because of Aldeth, but now it seems she was only part of the whole."

"A big part," Gúthwyn corrected. "I think he intends to marry her."

Cobryn did not seem surprised in the least by her assessment. "That would explain why Aldeth was so eager to invite you to lunch. If she is planning her future with him, she would want to make a good impression on you."

"She is saddling the wrong horse if she thinks it will matter to Hammel." If anything, Gúthwyn thought with a pang, Hammel would be furious that Aldeth was reaching out to the woman he so loathed.

Yet something occurred to her then. "Actually," she said to Cobryn, "I am not sure if Aldeth even realizes that he can barely tolerate me. I think he has made an effort to conceal that from her—Magar said Hammel was 'insistent' that I not find out what he was doing, but the way Aldeth spoke to me, it was clear that she thought I already knew."

"If he wants her to see the best in him, telling her about the appalling way he treats you would not promote his cause," Cobryn said grimly.

In a way, this made Gúthwyn feel better—at least she was not the only one to whom Hammel was lying. Moreover, this particular act of deception was to her benefit, as it meant that Aldeth would have no reason not to confide in her about Hammel's doings.

She shared this optimistic view with Cobryn, and was not surprised to see from his expression that he had already detected this flaw in Hammel's secrecy. "I think I will try to meet with her again," she said, her mind swirling with possibilities. "She did invite me to stay for lunch, and I said 'perhaps another time,' so if I waited until her father was away and just so happened to drop in on her… What?"

Cobryn was shaking his head. "If you are seen going to Aldeth's for lunch, and you will be seen, it will be tantamount to announcing that there is an engagement between Hammel and Aldeth, or at the very least that one is imminent. And even though that is what both of them appear to want, a premature confirmation on your part would be disastrous—especially for Aldeth—if something were to go wrong and the relationship dissolved."

"But—"

"Not to mention," Cobryn continued over her objections, "Aldeth would certainly tell Hammel about the encounter, and no doubt he would realize his mistake and find a way to prevent her from seeing you. I need hardly add that this would make him even more ill-tempered when you tell him and Haiweth about Legolas."

Gúthwyn's excitement began to wane. Once again, Cobryn was right. But to have Aldeth, who alone might be able to give her a glimpse into the life Hammel had worked so hard to conceal from her… who alone could tell her if he was happy, if he truly intended to become a blacksmith, or even just what he was reading at the moment… It was a bitter draught, having all this information at her fingertips and being unable to wring out every last drop.

"Well, I suppose I will just never speak to her again," she said glumly.

Cobryn raised an eyebrow. "That is not what I am suggesting."

"You just said—"

"I said you should not have lunch with her. But there are other, less obvious overtures you can make, which—if you are careful—might escape Hammel's notice."

"Like what?"

Cobryn lowered his voice as Mildwen walked by with a bundle of rags in her arms, humming to herself. "From what you have described, Aldeth seems like a well-intentioned girl. Your best bet is to be on friendly terms with her, so that when Hammel expresses his disapproval, she will have her own opinion of you instead of being guided by his. And then, perhaps, she might be willing to continue the acquaintance—although you may have to arrange to drop in on her when Hammel is not around."

"That sounds very manipulative," Gúthwyn said after a moment, wrinkling her nose. "You would have me use Aldeth as a pawn—nay, worse, a spy."

Cobryn raised his eyebrows. "And I suppose you wanted to have lunch with her for the sole pleasure of her company?"

Gúthwyn reluctantly conceded the point.

"But you did say she was kind to you," Cobryn continued in a gentler tone. "Given your dispositions, there is no reason why the two of you should not get along with each other. If you were to acknowledge her each time you passed her on the street, and occasionally stop to chat, I am sure she would be thrilled, and the relationship would develop with little exertion on your part."

It was a tempting scenario, albeit one that still seemed quite calculated to Gúthwyn. And yet, what choice did she have if she wished to remain informed of Hammel's doings? He had long ago stopped trusting Cobryn, and while he remained on better terms with Haiweth, he did not seem to confide in her very often.

"Of course," Cobryn said while she deliberated, "I would take care not to ask too many questions about Hammel, at least not at first, else she is likely to guess at your true purpose, and that would have the opposite effect intended."

Gúthwyn sighed. "Imagine how much simpler this would be if Hammel would only speak to me. Did you know that I have had not one letter from him since he went to Helm's Deep?" Cobryn nodded. "I wrote the first week he was gone, and he never responded."

"He is doing this because he is getting away with it," Cobryn reminded her.

"But what can I do? Yelling at him accomplishes nothing. Nor do attempts to reason with him. Éomer has threatened him enough that he knows to behave when they are in the same room, but that does not stop him from ignoring me any other time. I suppose I could… confiscate all his books and promise to give them back once his conduct improved, but I am certain he would abandon them out of spite, and then I would be even worse off than I was before."

There was a pause as she swallowed the lump in her throat and Cobryn watched her pityingly. At last, he said, "Hammel is an adult now. It might be time to let him go."

All the breath seemed to escape from her lungs. "What?"

"If he marries Aldeth, he will be leaving anyway. You know he will not come to the colony."

"He will," Gúthwyn insisted feebly. "For Haiweth."

"Do you really think that?" Cobryn countered, and she could not say she did. "It is about time he began to make his own way in the world."

Finally, she managed to speak. "No. It is too soon. He is still—he is still mine."

"He is not yours," Cobryn said. "He has not been yours for a long time. The sooner you accept this, the better."

A shiver fell over Gúthwyn, and she did not respond. Nothing could make her regret her sacrifices for the children, but it did not seem possible that things could have gone so wrong with Hammel, when everything she had done had been out of love for him and his sister. And to not know why, to lack even the slightest explanation, made it all a thousand times worse.

When she next saw Aldeth, she vowed, she was going to make a point of asking the girl about her day.