A/N: I am extremely grateful to Cairistiona7, Linda Hoyland, and Levade for reading this thing chapter-by-chapter and giving me expert advice and encouragement.

All recognizable elements belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

X

I Have Crossed Him Enough

My father did not raise his voice, which alarmed me more than if he had thundered. When he said low and evenly, "Come down, Eluned," my body hurtled to obey despite the cautioning of my will.

My boot skidded on the first rung. The wood cracked and buckled and I scrambled to catch myself, barking my knuckles on the edge of the loft, but I could not recover. The ladder collapsed and with a yelp I followed it.

But I did not hit. I landed in his hard arms and before I could rally my wits he dropped to one knee and laid me belly-down across the other. I knew beyond a doubt what he intended and scrunched my eyes shut as I waited for his hand to fall.

It never did. He muttered an oath and tipped me further forward, the press of his elbow keeping me still. I felt a slice of cool air on the back of my leg as his hands found the tear in my hose and ripped it wider. Absently I noted that my boot was squelching with wetness. His breath drew in with a hiss and then he swept me upright and caught me in his arms, his palm packed stinging against the back of my leg.

"I ought to give you the hiding of your life!" he ground out, though his clenched teeth could not keep the tremor from his voice. He shook me, but it was little more than a jiggle. He would not loosen his hold enough to do a proper job of it. "What idiocy possessed you to try and follow me?"

"I wanted to help!" I wailed into his coat. "I only wanted to help you. But then the wolves came, and I thought I had killed Sive, and Elrohir found us and then Halvard saved me from the goblin… Ada, it was horrible, it smelled like something dead…" I glanced over his shoulder and saw the carcass laying there, the head on the floor a mere pace away, and my resolve not to cry corroded completely. I gave a thick sob and felt him pull my head against his shoulder.

"You might have been slain," he said hoarsely. "A dozen times in the last days I might have lost you. Merciful Eru, thank you for sparing my senseless child." He set me away and made me look at him. His eyes were flinty enough that my stomach flailed.

"Frighten me so again," he said, "and I care little how old you are, I will wear you within an inch of your life."

I was nodding ferociously before he even finished; explicit agreement seemed to be the safest course of action. But his hard hand moved to my face, hard thumb smoothing and smoothing my cheekbone, gentling down my neck as if feeling for soundness. He brushed my snarled hair behind my ear and it was this, and not fear of his anger, that made me bury my face in the side of his neck. He let me cling for a minute or two, until my muscles relaxed and my churning stomach settled. I could hear his thundering heart gradually begin to slow; his hand on my hair seemed to steady us both. At last he rose, bearing me up with him. The compression of his hand against my wound stung fiercely but I did not struggle against it. I muffled my whimper in the collar of his shirt.

He carried me out into the evening light. A wind had risen and much of the stagnant smoke had cleared from the sky. The sun had rallied and was golden again; it chased long shadows into the east and warmed my bare neck briefly. My father did not let me lift my head as we passed the stable but pressed it firm against his shoulder and quickened his pace. His hand eased and I raised my eyes. We had reached the lean-to beside the Chieftain's cottage where an old cart had sat untouched for as long as I could remember, its broken axle jutting. Alongside the remaining wheel stood Elladan, straight and impassive, and Elrohir, whose face was dark with displeasure. Aragorn stood with them and turned as we approached. Cabor and Elladan's grey mare waited just beyond, heads high and eyes white at the crackling fire. Sive sat against the solid wall a little to the side, hugging her knees, and near her Halvard stood, pressing a wadded cloth to his cheek and staring at the ground.

My father set me on my unsteady feet beside them. He crossed to Elrohir and gripped his arm.

"Thank you, my lord," he said, his voice grating slightly. "Thank you for the life of my idiot child."

Elrohir grinned his radiant grin. "You have yet to hear the half of it, brother."

I could not stifle my groan. At the sound of it, Elrohir turned to Halvard and me, and his smile had vanished. His eyes seemed to glitter. "I seem to remember telling you to wait for the call."

"It came!" I said hastily. "We heard it through the trees!"

Aragorn glanced at the peredhil. They exchanged no words, but something must have passed between them. After a moment Elladan turned and jabbed his finger into Elrohir's chest.

"Follow me and I will hamstring you," he said in Sindarin, and took three long strides to the waiting horses. He ascended into his saddle like a puff of smoke and spun and departed. The grey horse cleared the wall as if it was knee-high and sped off to the east.

When he was gone, Elrohir rounded again and advanced on us. "There was no such call and I believe you know it well," he said. He stood before Halvard and I and seemed taller and more perilous than I had ever seen him. "Trusting you to heed me when left on your own was my own foolhardiness. But at the first sign of trouble the two of you go dashing off and leave your wounded companion to herself outside the wall?"

My head fell, but staring contritely at the ground did little to temper Elrohir's next words.

"Sive at least had sense enough to come and find us. More sense than the two of you—you nearly ended up as goblin-fodder. The pair of you are in dire need of—"

"They've been dealt with, Elrohir," interrupted Aragorn, who had been standing and listening impassively. From the corner of my eye I saw Halvard's head duck and his face go red and I wondered fleetingly if he had not been let off as lightly as I.

Elrohir stood for a moment looking skeptical. But then he put out his hand and caught Halvard's chin and tipped his claw-marked cheek up.

"A pretty orc-wound, for your first," he said. His eyes flicked to mine and then down at my torn, bloody hose. "Though Eluned's may take the medal." He released Halvard's face. "In the throat, I heard," he said, bumping the handle of the dagger at Halvard's hip and smiling thinly.

"Just like you and 'da told me," said Halvard.

Aragorn and my father had begun to converse in low tones, and when Elrohir turned away from us and joined them, Halvard followed. He pressed the cloth to his face again and spoke the question I had been too afraid to fixate on.

"How many have you found?"

My father turned to him. "There are no dead," he said. "They must have escaped, all of them."

I felt my legs go slack with relief. Halvard was not so easily reassured.

"But the smithy… there was a battle there. I found my father's crutch."

"He must have fled with the others," my father said. "Perhaps the first wave came and was repelled." He looked at Halvard with understanding in his eyes. "Do not lose heart, lad. Your father has it in him yet to account for an orcish head or two, and come away unscathed."

"How would they have known to flee?" I asked.

"Your anadar is a wily old fox. Not much passes within a league that he does not hear about. It is hard to spring a trap on old Dírhael." His eyes rose and met the Chieftain's. "Harder yet to catch him once he is away."

"We'll make it no farther than the waystation tonight," said Aragorn. "But dusk is nearly upon us and we must not tarry."

Elrohir collected Halvard and Sive and vanished inside the cottage with a cheerful command to gather food, and be quick about it. Aragorn lifted a leather bag off the ground by his feet and turned to me.

"May I take a look at your war-wound?" he asked. I nodded slowly, feeling a twinge of apprehension. My leg was beginning to ache fiercely and I did not want him to touch it. But he turned me away from him and crouched behind me as I stood with most of my weight on my sound leg. I felt a sting as he pulled the wool away and had to work very hard to be still when he searched the wound with gentle fingers.

"Not poisoned, but foul enough," he said, and my father rumbled acknowledgement. I twisted to try to see what Aragorn was doing but he straightened me with a hand on my nape. "Best not look while I clean it, little cousin," he said. "We can't have you going lightheaded, not with a long ride ahead."

My father disappeared around the side of the lean-to. "I won't go lightheaded," I said indignantly. I heard the sound of Aragorn rummaging and the pop of a bottle being uncorked.

"Hmm," he said, and then the ache flared impressively. He had pressed a cloth into my knee-hollow and the bright sharp smell of liquor branded my nose. I could not hold back a string of yelps nor keep my foot from stamping. He cupped my knee with his free hand in a steadying way, and after a long searing minute removed the cleaning cloth. "That is good, for this is a handsome pike-wound, and you will have a scar."

"Truly?" I asked, grinning. The pain was dulling back down to a throb.

"You would have had a pair of them, one above the other," he said. "But your boot saved you." He pulled at the back of it. "Fortunately I'll be able to repair you with a bit of sewing. Your woolen, I fear, is beyond needlecraft."

"No matter, it is Lútha's," I said with a grimace, and then, more timidly, "Sewing?"

"I wish that we could patch it here," he said as he wrapped my knee, "and that you did not have an hour or two of jostling it ahead of you, but this will have to do until we are away to safer places." He tied off the bandage and gave me two quick pats on the outside of my leg as he stood. "No more fighting orcs until we can see to it further."

"It is awfully tight," I said, lifting at the uppermost edge with the corner of my thumb.

He brushed my hand away. "We need it to stay so."

The sun burst in a final golden glow. Elrohir, Halvard and Sive emerged from the Chieftain's cottage. Each bore a satchel bulging with supplies. When my father returned leading Morien and Sael we packed their saddles, and Cabor's. My father had already gathered a bundle of cloaks and blankets and retrieved his second sword. We did not try and salvage more belongings, nor did my father return to our house.

"Adar, what about our things?" I asked. He flipped the off-side stirrup up across the seat of the saddle and began to hang his spare sword on the buckles beneath it. "Ada—"

"There is nothing there we cannot do without," he said. His hands seemed more urgent than I was used to seeing them; they completed their task unfalteringly and jerked the stirrup back down and tugged the girth another notch tighter.

"But what about Naneth's chest? It has Daernaneth's embroidery in it. And Celwen's horses, she will be cross if we leave them. And Lossiel cannot sleep without her green blanket…"

"We cannot carry more than what we require. Your naneth will have collected everything she and your sisters need."

"But—"

My father bent and gripped both of my arms and made me look him squarely in the face. "We haven't the time, Lune," he said. His brow was drawn, his eyes intent. "You have to be brave now, and think like a Ranger. We must be gone from here before dark, and all of us will have to do without for a few days, understand?"

I nodded.

He straightened and boosted me onto Morien's back.

Aragorn mounted and pulled Halvard scrambling behind him. He checked the bay horse firmly when Sael tried to scatter sideways, and then Halvard was up and the horse licked his lips and snorted and relaxed.

"Wise, indeed," my father muttered. He flapped his coat at Sael, sent him skittering all over again, and Halvard had to snatch the cantle to keep from being left in midair.

Elrohir led Cabor alongside the cart. He sprang off the axle and into the saddle and my father handed Sive up behind him. At last Ada stepped into his own stirrup and I leaned back as far as I could to allow his foot over. Morien was weary; she was crusted with white beneath her jaw and down the insides of her legs, but she seemed to catch a new stamina as we trotted for the north gate. She bowed her powerful neck and carried her feathery feet high and I glanced across to see Elrohir had Cabor collected similarly, and even with his unlikely burden the Elven horse traveled like he was mustering for war. The unbraided half of his mane lifted on the wind like a black standard.

We departed the village and slipped into the trees. The three horses traveled abreast where they were able, thinning into single-file when the trees grew thick but flaring as soon as the trail widened again. The adults were wary and listening; I could tell by their swiveling heads and the way they scarcely spoke, and then only in murmurs. Once I tried to ask my father how far we had to go and he smacked my leg lightly and told me to hush.

They pushed the horses into a long ground-eating trot, and after the sun went down we did not halt again. As the dark gathered they stopped conversing completely. The horses seemed to share their urgency; even flighty Sael traveled steadily and did not waste his breath on snorting.

I found myself too weary to be frightened but too uncomfortable to sleep. A trot is not a lulling gait at the best of times, and especially not riding behind the saddle instead of in it. So instead of listening for danger or drifting off, I fretted. I worried over my mother and the distance she would have to travel, and how exhausted she already was by the hefty babe she bore. I wondered if there was someone strong enough to carry little Lossiel when she grew too tired to walk. I thought perhaps Iolanthe could for a distance, but my eldest sister was slim, and short for a Dúnedain maiden. Lútha would pass her by in a scant year or two.

I did not allow myself to imagine any scenarios but those that had all of them together, and all of them well.

At one point Elrohir and Sive branched off out of sight. I barely breathed for the four or five minutes they were away, despite my father and Aragorn continuing on without pause. At last I saw the paler shadows of Elrohir's sleeves as he emerged and drew alongside Sael. He dropped to a walk and Morien joined the other horses.

"Past midnight last," Elrohir whispered. "Seventy-nine. They will make for the fastness beyond the East Road."

A pause. I was tallying frantically in my head, but long before I could reach a merest estimation, Aragorn said, "Seven short."

There was no answer, only grim silence.

"We cannot know for certain in the dark," my father said at last. "If there is another cairn we might miss it, and even Elrohir cannot track with no moon. Neither can we push until the dawn."

"Elladan will be furious if he returns to finds an empty waystation," said Elrohir softly. "And I have crossed him enough these past days to tide me for a yen at least. I know this is your command, Aragorn, and your people we pursue, but he was not amiss in asking us to meet him there. Dírhael has them well away, and there is naught we can do for them with drained horses and weary children. We will catch them on the morrow whether we tarry or not."

"Then we will go to ground in the old Harfoot burrow," said Aragorn, "to take our rest and tend our wounded. I will travel easier in the daylight no matter the cost to our need for swiftness. And our need for rest is greater even than that."

We left the main path. I could not say how far we had ridden when at last we halted; the trees were too thick to see the stars but it seemed like an hour or more before Aragorn at the lead drew up again. The horses took their ease. They slung their heads low and each gave a long sigh. Morien cocked a hind foot and stood crookedly.

My father threw a leg over her neck and landed silently. He chivvied me into the seat of his saddle and handed me the reins. "Stay with Elrohir," he whispered. I heard the rasp of his sword drawing, and another as the Chieftain joined him. Elrohir pressed Cabor close to Morien and reached across the space between them and laid a hand on my father's saddle-bow. I did not need him to tell me that he meant for me to make no sound.

An owl called. Elrohir's hand left the saddle and nudged my hip, and I twisted across Morien and slid to the ground. My knee tugged and buckled as I landed and I had to catch a handful of black mane to keep myself from crumpling completely. Sive swung down on Elrohir's arm and touched my back until I released my hold and slowly straightened. Her hands joined mine in feeling for the buckles of the saddle; she turned her back against Morien's barrel and levered her shoulder under the girth to loosen it. I slipped around the other side and fastened the girths to the skirts on their loop, and then my father was beside me to pull the saddle free. I started to slide the bridle off but his hands stopped mine.

"Go inside," he said softly. "I'll tend them from here."

I hesitated, suddenly loath to leave him. I could see no building to enter and did not wish to wander through the dark without him, even knowing the others were near. He turned to see I had not obeyed him, but instead of telling me again he pulled me against him and dropped a rough kiss on the crown of my head. It seemed like a long time before he turned me loose again.

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