Fourteen

Home

I awake to the small commotion of a bustling camp and the sharp smell of smoke wafting on a chilled breeze. Scouts slip around on nimble feet running errands, and some converse softly in Sindarin. Being surrounded by the language once again after using nearly nothing but Westron for so long feels incredibly strange, and the more it progresses, the more dread sneaks up over me. Along with it comes confusion.

Sereg is dead.

Just at the thought, questions rampage through my mind unchecked. I need to know how it happened, when it happened, who caused it. If our Enemy could take down one so strong, so brutal in combat, then I decide that I would rather not know what else they are capable of. I strain to try and pick up anything from the low conversations that surround me, but to no avail. I smell food - I know I must eat something, but my stomach ties up in knots at the thought - and suddenly the smell is no longer as tantalizing. Then I notice that the blankets carry some extra weight, more than they did last night, and I partially sit up to investigate.

On top of my makeshift bed of foliage and whatever else the guards could scrounge up lies a heavy cloak of weather-beaten grey, threadbare and faded in some places and frayed at the ends, smelling of a distinct concoction of leather, earth, and pipe-smoke. A bit confused, I roll over on my stomach and find Aradan, his back propped up against a nearby tree and his legs crossed, sharpening his old dagger with a small stone.

His cloak is missing.

"Aren't you cold?" I say.

He nonchalantly shakes his head, gives me a quick smile, and then turns back to his work. I don't miss the goosebumps on his arm, the icy cloud of his breath, or the slight tremor in his hand, and I give him a look.

"Are you sure?"

He almost laughs. "I'm fine!"

I cock an eyebrow.

"Honestly!" he insists.

Sighing, I sit up, roll the cloak up in a ball, and throw it at him as hard as I can.

"You, melloneg, are a terrible liar," I say.

He chuckles, and I smile a bit.

"However, you do have my thanks," I continue.

He flashes me another grin and nods, running the stone down the blade a few more times before he stops again.

"We aren't far from the palace, according to the captain of the guard," he says. "You'll be home and safe again soon."

I know he only tries to reassure me, but I find no comfort in his words. Neither do I miss the hint of sadness that hides in his voice. I force a smile, though I know that by now he has most assuredly learned to see through them. For the first time in my life, I find myself actually glad that someone can. Especially with what I am about to face.

It isn't long before what little I can force myself to eat sits in my stomach and camp is broken. Elhadron slips to the front of the pack, and, though I would prefer to walk, when Aradan pulls me up behind him on Deroch, I don't protest. Eventually the goo of spider webs upon the trees becomes less thick, and the charring on the trunks fades away. Finally the thickets themselves give way, parting to reveal a sight that causes my heart to just about stop.

The stone walls of the palace tower coldly before me. The stream that once flowed freely beneath the small bridge in front of the gates seems to creep along at only half the pace that it once did. Though I know them to be fully inhabited, the guard posts seem completely deserted. Attempting, most likely in vain, to hide myself, I throw up my hood and lean into Aradan as much as I can, hoping that the greens and grays of our clothing will morph into one large mass in the saddle. Soon enough the guard captain's voice breaks the suffocating silence, and the gates come whining open. Once our entourage is safely inside, the doors rapidly slam shut, their magic still in tact. The bang causes my very marrow to quiver.

Without a word I slip from Deroch's back, and one of the guards soundlessly leads him away. Quickly the troop disperses, leaving only Elhadron, Aradan, and me in the hall. A few seconds pass, then I break the silence, though I can barely choke the words out.

"Where is my father?"

Elhadron begins to speak, but as he doesn't say the words I look for, I cut him off.

"Take me to him. Now."

Neither of them budge.

"Before I lose my nerve. Please!" My voice raises, though it still shakes.

Aradan and Elhadron exchange glances, but Elhadron slowly begins to nod. He strides forward, and Aradan slips an arm around my shoulders as we follow in tow. We keep to the shadows; I purposely slink through the deepest of them. There will be no fanfare concerning my return until the proper time. Earlier today I made that clear to the warriors that rescued us; now, to keep myself from blowing that, I fight to stay out of sight until we reach the throne room. The king is not there; we slip through the dark halls until we reach my father's chambers. Still I have not seen a soul. I find that ghastly.

Finally I hear two sets of footsteps: one stately and aloof; the other, light and hurried. Aradan and I slip into a deeper shadow while Elhadron approaches the duo that rounds the corner.

Fear courses through me relentlessly, but when my eyes meet Galion's face, I cannot help but smile a little. Next to him stands Idhrenion, long time advisor to the king, uptight and clipped as ever. Elhadron takes no time before he's on to business.

"Where is the king?"

"He is beyond, my lord," Galion replies, gesticulating to a heavy set of ornately carved doors. "And in a rather foul mood, I may add."

I tense at his words and a sigh hisses out between my teeth. Aradan doesn't say a word; he merely draws me to him, which I find myself thankful for.

"I need an audience with him," Elhadron continues.

"With respect, my lord, I-"

"This is urgent, Galion," Elhadron persists.

"As Galion has tried to tell you, he will see no one," Idhrenion says rather sourly.

I work up my courage and slip from the shadows.

"He will see me," I reply icily, slowly taking my hood down.

Idhrenion's eyes bug, and Galion gapes joyously.

"My lady!" Idhrenion stammers, throwing together the closest thing to a bow that he can in his shocked state.

I would find the break in his perpetual rigidity extremely funny if I was in my right mind, and I catch Aradan fighting with everything he has to stifle a laugh.

"Lady Caladhiel!" Galion says at the same time. "It gives me great joy to see you alive!"

My smile, though tiny, is genuine, but as quickly as it came, it fades away.

"I must speak to my father." My eyes bore straight into Idhrenion's soul. "Now."

Without a word he, Elhadron, and Galion move to open the doors.

Aradan leans closer to me. "I will go with you."

I turn to face him, a sad and grateful smile barely visible on my lips.

"You've done so much for me, so much that I do not deserve," I whisper, "but this is something I must do myself." I sigh. "I know not what my father will do."

"He loves you, though he may not always show it," Aradan says. He lays his gentle hands on my upper arms. "He will be overjoyed. I know it."

I start to shake. "I hope you're right."

"My lady," Idhrenion mutters.

Aradan gives me a reassuring smile. "I will be right here when you return."

Unable to restrain myself, I throw my arms around his neck.

"Av-'osto," he whispers in my ear.

I peel myself away from him, and slowly, forcing my terror into one tiny little ball in my heart, I step forward and advance into my father's chambers. The doors bang shut behind me, cutting me off from any chance of changing my mind. Now there is nowhere to go but forward. Mustering up even more nerve, I slip though the shadows. When I see him, I stop dead.

Ada's back is turned to me; his once proud stature seems crumpled. He sits with his unusually unkempt head in one hand and a half-empty wine flask in the other. I can feel the tension boiling off of him from my side of the room, and his somewhat disheveled state sends nervous, nauseous heat through my limbs and causes my heart to nearly explode with dread. I begin to wonder if he's noticed me, but when an unseen spell breaks and he shuffles, that question inside me is abruptly answered.

"Who goes there?" he growls. Nearly all of his former strength is sapped from his voice.

Though I long to speak, my lips seem sewn shut.

"Who goes there?!" he repeats, louder and fouler this time.

I take a few steps forward, imploring for words that will not come to surface. His rage snaps.

"Speak!" he roars, slamming his fist into the sturdy table in front of him.

Now visibly trembling, I jump, viciously fighting to keep the tears that have began to surface from escaping. I swallow hard.

"Ada…" I whimper.

Suddenly his head snaps up and he turns around. When he sees me, his eyes pop. I can see the struggle in his face to withhold his emotions. Anger, sadness, relief, mingle in his gaze. I cannot even find it in myself to look at him, and my head droops. Barely able to keep himself together, he stands and makes his way over to me. My eyes remain glued to my feet. When he lays an unexpectedly gentle hand on my shoulder, I jump again. His brow furrows with concern, and he lifts my face up on the crook of his finger. At that moment I, unlike my father, can no longer restrain my tears.

"Goheno nin, Ada!" I cry, bursting into sobs.

I fully expect him to be angry, to turn away from me and give me what I deserve in this moment. To my shock, he reaches out and pulls me into an embrace that nearly crushes me. Because of that, I weep all the harder, finally letting out what I've held back around him for many long years. I cling to him like moss to a rock.

"You're alive," he says, his deep voice barely steady. "You're alive, thank the Valar!"

Elvish phrases:

Melloneg - My friend

Av-'osto - Don't be afraid.

Goheno nin, Ada! - Forgive me, Father!