43 – BECOMING FREE

Days passed. All the refugees that had fled the city returned. Minas Tirith was buzzing, and Tíniel had never seen it more joyous.

She barely got to see Faramir, since he was busy running the kingdom, but she didn't mind. She was kept busy herself, trying to find lodgings for her people, space for their wounded and burning for their dead.

The tribe seemed to embrace her all the more after the pardoning at the gates, so they were content to stay where she was. But that didn't mean that they fit in at all in Minas Tirith. Barely any of them spoke Westron, and most still couldn't stand to be inside buildings.

"What do you plan, sister?" Tcharum asked one morning as they sat together.

"Well, we can't stay," she said. "That much is plain. But we should at least stick around until the coronation, which is in a few weeks. We've been here for all the fighting; it would send a bad message if we weren't there for the celebrations."

"Fair enough," he sighed. "But I will be glad to see the open sky again. We've been in this stone city a long time."

"I know," she agreed. "We need more room. We need to go home."

"The second circle will do for now," he said. "But the knowledge that you plan for us to return might make the stay more bearable. We should tell the bamyë."

His face was filled with a kind of quiet relief, and Tíniel watched him with curiosity. "You miss it, don't you?" she asked. "The desert. Khand."

"Of course," he said. "The North… it is strange, and beautiful in some places. But our home has an untameable wildness to it. Here, men are the master of the land, but we… we count ourselves lucky to tread gently on the sand. I miss it, more than I imagined I would. Don't you?"

"I did," she said slowly. "For a long, long time I yearned for nothing else but to go home. Now…" she shrugged. "I don't know."

"You'll see," he said. "We'll get back, and it'll be like we never left."

"No, it won't," she said. "We've lost too much for that."

There was a silence, and they both thought of Borund. "Gods carry them gently," Tcharum said at last.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she said quietly. "But I didn't really want to know the answer."

"The answer to what?"

"Where is Petakh?"

Tcharum looked down, his fingers twisting around each other. "Dead," he said. "She wanted to go to the battle, so I didn't stop her. She was killed by Haradrim, in the last moments of the fighting. Her husband is dead too, killed by one of the Nazgûl."

Tíniel looked down at her hands. She had known it in her heart when the army had returned, but she still felt the awful twist in her chest, and the new cavity that Petakh had once filled. "I hope it's worth it," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"All this death," she said. "Everything we have lost. If we go home, and in fifty years Gondor begins their attacks again…" she shook her head. "What will it all have been for?"

"They won't," he said firmly. "You'll make sure of it. Our people know each other now. We understand their language, understand their ways a little more. It won't be like before. It wasn't all for nothing."

They were interrupted when little Gura ran up breathlessly and saluted. "Khuma Khondyë!" she panted. "There is a Northman outside to see you!"

Tíniel looked over at Tcharum, and he shrugged. "Don't look at me, I don't know who it is. But I do have things to do. I'll leave you to the mercies of whoever has come."

Tíniel almost asked him to stay, just in case it was the one person she didn't want to see. But as she spotted the familiar blonde-haired Elf weaving his way through people toward her, she relaxed.

"Legolas of Mirkwood," she said, smiling in welcome.

"Tíniel of Khand."

"How are you?"

"Better and worse than I have ever been," he said, sitting in Tcharum's vacated chair.

"Do Elves ever answer anything?"

"Elves are renowned for their wisdom," he replied, flashing a rare grin.

"Very funny," she said. "How has the sea-longing been?"

"It continues to grow stronger. But I finally told Aragorn and Gimli about it."

"That's good. They ought to know."

"Yes. It has made it fractionally easier, now that my friends know," he said. "But I did not come to speak of that."

"I don't suppose you came to see me just because you love me?"

He snorted. "Do you think so little of me?"

"Well, Aragorn has used you as his messenger before. Do you remember when we first met, in Imladris?"

"I remember it well," he said, and gave a smile tinged with guilt. "And… you are right. Aragorn asked me to come."

"Then I will tell you what I told you last time: he can do his own dirty work."

"You know very well that he cannot come into the city," Legolas chided her, growing serious. "So why have you not been down to see him?"

"I don't wish to discuss it," she said shortly. "With you, or with anyone."

He blinked slowly a few times, and Tíniel could tell he was trying not to give her a piece of his mind. She was glad of it.

"Alright," he said at last. "If you will not come to see him, come to see the rest of us. You are missed."

"Who is us?" she asked.

"The Fellowship," he said. "We know you are busy with your duties here, and we understand – but you are missed, Tíniel."

She looked down at her hands, debating it in her mind. If she didn't know better, she would think it a ruse to make her speak to Aragorn. But Legolas had never been underhanded, and she did miss her friends. Could it really hurt just to be near him for a little while?

"Very well," she conceded at last. "You win this round. I will come."

Legolas leapt to his feet. "Good!" he said. "Let's go!"

"Wait, now?" she yelped as he came around behind her and started pushing the chair at an alarming speed.

"Why not?" he asked cheerfully, and she groaned.

"Fine. It isn't as though I have any choice in the matter."

"That's the spirit!"

"Legolas?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you're my friend, but you're very difficult to be around."

"Thank you."

There were several tents set up outside the city gates, all manned by soldiers in silver armour and grey cloaks. Tíniel recognised them as the Dunedain. Banners decorated with stars and trees fluttered in the gentle breeze.

"Impressive," she murmured.

"It is, isn't it?" came a voice. She looked over and saw Elrohir – or Elladan – strolling toward them.

"It's rude to eavesdrop," she said, not bothering to hide her grin.

"Well, don't speak so loudly then," Legolas said. "Hello, Elrohir."

"Legolas," the other Elf said, nodding. Tíniel briefly wondered how Legolas could tell Elrohir and his brother apart.

"Welcome back," she said instead. "You and your brother made it through the battle?"

"Unscathed," he said, nodding. "You look better than when last I saw you."

"I've been healing," she said. "I'll be well enough to make the journey home soon, I hope."

She felt Legolas stiffen ever so slightly behind her, but Elrohir didn't react. "Let us hope it isn't too soon," he replied. "I suppose you are looking for the Fellowship. They are over yonder, by the fire."

They took their leave of Elrohir. Legolas pushed her in the direction he'd pointed, suspiciously quiet.

"I have to go, you know," she said, feeling the urge to break the loaded silence. "I would stay in the North with you, but I have a duty to uphold. I need to be with my people."

"It isn't me that I wish you would stay for," he replied. "But we should not speak of it now. We have arrived."

He pushed her between a gap between two tents and into a little clearing between them. There was a fire smouldering in the centre, and around it was the Fellowship. Legolas said nothing, waiting for her to be the one to break the peace, but for a moment she just watched them.

Merry and Pippin were lying with their heads together, looking up at the clouds and trying to make lewd shapes out of them. Frodo and Sam sat together in silence, staring into the glowing embers of the fire. Gimli was discussing the Lonely Mountain with Gandalf, who was nodding along with a knowing twinkle in his eye. Aragorn was lying down, his head resting on a log, his long legs stretched out before him. His eyes were half closed, and he was smoking his pipe.

She felt a stab of relief at the sight of him. He was alright, really alright. But the relief was soon overtaken by a quiet dread.

"I'm here," she said softly, and it was though a stone had been thrown into still water. Gimli and Gandalf looked up. Aragorn sat upright, and Merry and Pippin leapt up and raced over. Sam and Frodo quickly followed suit, and the four of them crowded around her, asking how she was and why she hadn't come sooner.

"What kind of strange wheelbarrow is that?" Sam asked curiously.

"You should have seen me in the battle at the Black Gates," Pippin said earnestly. "I was nearly crushed by a troll."

"And by confounded good luck, I was there to fish him out from underneath," Gimli chuckled from over by Gandalf.

"We didn't know what to think when you disappeared without a word in Ithilien," Frodo said. "Faramir didn't tell us where you'd gone."

"Can't you walk yet?" Merry frowned. "Will it take very long?"

"And I killed about seventeen orcs, I think –"

"It's not a barrow, Sam, it's a chair –"

"Merry rode a horse –"

"You're brother's very friendly, by the way, we quite like him –"

"Ow, don't step on my foot, Pip!"

"You should have seen when I –"

"Alright!" Gandalf called out. "Alright! You've said your pieces, now give the poor girl a minute to breathe!" They all took a few steps back, Pippin looking disappointed.

"It's alright, Pippin," Tíniel said, grinning. "We have plenty of time these days. You can tell me the whole story of your battle later. And you, Frodo and Sam, must tell me everything of your journey."

Sam glanced sidelong at Frodo, whose face fell a little. She noticed this, but decided not to comment.

"Gimli, Gandalf. Good to see you. And you, Aragorn." She glanced over at him quickly. He was watching her closely with his unreadable grey eyes.

"Tíniel," Gandalf said. "I am sorry you could not be with us during the battle."

She gave him a hard look. "No, you aren't."

The lines around the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled, and he drew out his pipe and started cleaning it.

"Well," Gimli said, sighing and settling back. "Here we are. All together at last."

"Not quite all together," Merry said. "I miss Boromir." Tíniel felt the usual pang of grief, but here among the Fellowship, it wasn't as strong as it was before.

"We all miss him, Merry," Aragorn said quietly.

"Well, it's the rest of the Fellowship, at any rate," Pippin said. "Tíniel, I officially name you an honorary member, since you were with us for the last part of our journey together."

"Tíniel will not be with us for long either," Legolas spoke up, moving around to stand beside her and shooting her a look. "She means to go back to Khand."

Tíniel glared at him. "Everyone will be going home," she said shortly. "It is hardly a revelation."

"Back to Khand?" Frodo asked, looking confused. "But… why?"

"Because it's my home. I can't live here forever."

"We thought you were going to stay here in the city and marry Strider and live happily ever after," Sam said, looking crestfallen. Pippin nodded in agreement.

Tíniel felt cold dread seeping into her. "What? Of course not. We were never going to get married!"

"Well, why not?" Gimli asked, raising an eyebrow.

She avoided looking at Aragorn. "Because it would be ridiculous. I live in Khand and he lives in Gondor. And besides, he is to be king. Can you imagine the people of the North welcoming a Khandi woman as their queen?"

"But they love you here," Legolas said, a note of pleading in his voice.

Her glare grew sharper, and he fell silent. "This is why I didn't want to come," she said in a low voice.

Frodo frowned. "But we thought –"

"Aragorn and I wouldn't do well married," she cut him off, feeling her frustration grow. She looked over at Aragorn and let her bitterness leak in. "He would do much better to find a woman who does what she's told, so he doesn't need to feed her potions to make her behave."

"That was spiteful," Aragorn said in a low voice, speaking up for the first time.

"I think this is a conversation best had without listeners," Gandalf said, getting to his feet. "Come now, everyone."

"I think this is a conversation best not had at all," Tíniel said quickly, trying to grab Legolas' hand to stop him leaving. But with surprising strength, he pried his and from her grip and left with the others. There was a long silence.

"Go on," Aragorn said, still quietly, getting to his feet. "I know you have things to say."

She drew in a deep breath and tried to clear her thoughts. "I wasn't just angry," she said. "I was furious."

"I knew you would be."

"And yet you did it anyway."

"And I would do it again, Tíniel," he said evenly. "I don't regret it."

"You didn't trust me," she said, raising her eyes to meet his at last. "You didn't trust me, so you just betrayed me."

He sighed. "You would have done the same if our situations were reversed."

She shook her head. "That's the thing, Aragorn. I don't know that I would have." He frowned slightly and she went on, her voice growing unsteadily. "I don't think you understand what betrayal means in my culture, what it means to me. There is nothing worse you could have done, nothing that could have hurt me more."

At this, he flinched, but still he said nothing. She drew in a shaking breath trying to calm down. "But," she said with an effort, "you were right. I thought we were going to lose, and if I'd gone to that battle, I wouldn't be here today. And I tried for days to be angry at you, but instead I was just afraid, afraid that you'd been hurt, or even died, and I…"

In a moment, Aragorn had crossed the small clearing, and he kissed her soundly. She returned it, relief flooding through her like she'd never felt before her. He pulled back, leaving his hand on her face.

"Am I forgiven?"

She sighed shakily, feeling an awful wrench in her chest. "Yes. But that is the last time."

"The last time what?"

"The last time we kiss, touch, anything. I meant what I said before."

He dropped his hand, staring at her. "About how we could not marry?"

She nodded, and he took a few unsteady steps back.

"Before I left, when we were speaking of it –"

"That was a dream, Aragorn, a fantasy."

"Right," he said, nodding slowly. "Right. And nothing will change your mind?"

"You know nothing will."

He sat back down on the ground where he'd been before and picked up his pipe. "Right."

"Aragorn," she said, a note of pleading creeping into her voice. "Please don't push me away because of this."

"Well, that's the problem," he said evenly, not looking at her. "You see, I don't know how to be around you without loving you."

"You think it isn't hard for me too?" she said angrily. "Do you think I'm doing this to hurt you?"

He looked up at her. "Are you?"

"Gods, no, you stupid man! I am doing it for duty! And it hurts, of course it hurts, but it's what must be!"

He stared at her. "So it was all for nothing then," he said sadly. "The dreams, the prophecy, all the pain it brought…"

"There was beauty too," she murmured. "You said so yourself. Maybe that was why it happened."

"Maybe," he said dully, and got up. "I should go. There are things I need to do."

"Well," she said, "it was good to see you again."

"And you," he replied, and strode out of the clearing. She sat there quietly, trying not to cry. With a trembling hand, she reached up and touched her lips. She could still feel the kiss, but it did little to mask the pain in her chest. So, that was how it ended.

"Why, hello there," said someone in Khandi, and her head jerked up.

"Akhund?" she said, her mouth falling open.

"The one and only, my dear," he said, sweeping off his hat and bowing dramatically. "How have you been?"

"Frankly, quite awful," she said. "And yourself?"

"Better every day!" he said. "And better still for seeing you! It's been what, five years since we had a proper chat?"

She eyed him darkly. "Yes."

"Now, now," he said. "Don't say you still blame me for the whole prophecy debacle. Don't shoot the messenger; that's something they say here in the North."

"I know," she said. "I've lived in the North for some time now."

He smiled at her in a fatherly way. "I'm terribly proud of you, Tchakhura."

She dropped her eyes. "So, what have you been doing? Still going around ruining people's lives, or have you found a new hobby?"

"If fighting Mekakhond may be counted as a hobby, then yes. I've been rather busy, but the hard work has paid off."

She smiled slightly. "I suppose it has, if by that you mean that he's dead. But what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

He straightened his hat. "Well, as you know, my job is to look after the people of the East and South of Middle-earth."

She frowned. "I didn't really know that at all. I thought you just sort of went around trying to find people who would tolerate you."

"Well, right now that job requires me to be here in Minas Tirith," he said. "And if I'm lucky, I might find someone to take over that job for me so that I can go home."

Her frown deepened. "Right," she said slowly.

Akhund smiled with infuriating mysteriousness. "Well, it is always lovely to see you, my dear," he said. "But I'm afraid I have things to discuss, people to meet, a city to see. Let it not be long until we meet again!"

"I have no control over when we meet," Tíniel said grouchily. "It just happens when I least want it to."

Akhund shrugged happily and disappeared into the tents.

Akhund wasn't the only one who'd arrived for the coronation. It seemed the whole of Middle-earth had heard of the return of the King in the South, because people flocked to the city in droves. Every empty building was filled, and every inn was full to the brim. Horses were tethered in the gardens and the streets because there was no room in the stables. It was chaotic, noisy and joyful.

Galadriel and Celeborn arrived from Lothlórien along with a number of their people who had survived the fighting in the North. She smiled at Tíniel when they greeted each other, her eyes drifting down and warming when they alighted on the two hamarakhi around her neck.

King Thranduil sent an envoy from Mirkwood with the hope that his son was alive and well, and the trust that he would represent their people adequately at the coronation of the new king.

Legolas' jaw tightened when he related this to Tíniel, and she narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

"What?"

"You have an opinion on this."

"I have an opinion on most things."

"What is it, then?"

He sighed. "My father should have come himself," he said. "But politics is his strength, and he has found a reason not to come."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps he does not want to grovel before a mortal man," Legolas said a little bitterly. "Or perhaps it is because of me."

"Because of you?"

"He told me to go to Rivendell and then return home to protect the wood," he said. "But I didn't return. I went with the Fellowship. Perhaps he thinks I should be the one to return to him, rather than him to me."

"That's ridiculous," she said, and he shrugged.

"As I said. Politics."

"Well, I've met a few bad fathers in my time," she said. "And if it makes you feel any better, I've never seen you being… political."

"Not a very good prince, then," Legolas joked. She smiled.

"On the contrary, you are the best I've met."

She was kept busy with preparations for returning to Khand, but also with meeting Anita every night. Anita massaged, pressed and prodded, and forced Tíniel to try time and time again to stand and walk. Tíniel declared that Anita was in fact eviller than Sauron had ever been, but in truth, the sessions meant that she improved every day.

Anita allowed her to take her arm out of the sling too, and to start using it in small things. The muscles were stiff with disuse, and it hurt when she pushed it too far, but it felt good to have both her hands back.

Elrond arrived with a number of his people and the rest of the Rangers from the North. Tíniel met them with the rest of the Fellowship at the King's encampment outside the gates. Aragorn greeted them like family, and Tíniel watched with interest until Elrond came to stand before her.

"Lady Tíniel," he said, looking down at her. "Much has happened since we last met."

She wondered if all Elves were taught to state the obvious from a young age. "This is true," she acknowledged awkwardly.

"I would like to speak more of it with you, if you are able."

"I suppose you want to speak of the prophecy?" she asked. He nodded, and she sighed. "I would be happy to oblige, if you wish it. But don't get your hopes up; it has all come to nothing, in the end."

"We shall see," he said. "Are you staying for the coronation?"

"We will stay until then," she replied, "but we will be gone soon after."

"Very well," he said. "We will meet again soon. But I will not keep you any longer now, for I think there are others who wish to speak to you."

She frowned. "Who…" she followed his gaze and saw Harûk trying and failing to subtly catch her attention by waving his arms about. Mahaya was next to him, rolling his eyes.

"I see," she said, trying to hold back her laughter. "Until next time then."

He smiled. "Until next time."

He walked gracefully away to greet Gimli, and Tíniel beckoned to her friends. They approached awkwardly, shooting wary glances at the other Elves who were gliding around.

"So these are Elves," Harûk muttered. "They seem very dramatic."

"They can also hear every word you say," Tíniel said with amusement, not bothering to lower her voice. "Remember Remuil's super hearing?"

An Elf beside them glanced over and smiled slightly, and Harûk scowled back. "It's rude to eavesdrop," he said, and Tíniel laughed.

"That's what I say!"

"You have two arms again!" Harûk exclaimed.

"She always had two arms, idiot," Mahaya said, shaking his head.

Tíniel grinned. "Well, it feels good to have finally grown it back. But what's wrong? Why are you here?"

"We've been trying to find you and talk to you for days," Mahaya said. "But you're always busy, or with important-looking people, or else we just couldn't find you. We were desperate."

"When we heard that there were more important people arriving today, we figured you would be talking to them," Harûk explained. "So we came here."

"Sorry," Mahaya added.

"Don't be silly," she said. "I'll always have time to speak with you two. How are you? How was the battle and everything?"

"Awful," Mahaya said, grimacing. "I have never seen anything as bad as that, and I hope I never will again."

"We stank of orc for days afterwards," Harûk said. "And we lost six more of the crew."

"So there are barely any left," she said sadly.

Mahaya shrugged, looking away. "They fought hard."

"There are four of us," Harûk said. "Me, Mahaya, Jako and Odimba. Plus you, of course. But that is all that remains of the Haedannen."

"Then our dead shall be honoured," she said firmly. "Along with all the others. I'll make sure of it."

"Something else we wanted to ask you," Harûk said. "Have you seen Remuil at all?"

She shook her head. "Not since before you all left. Which, by the way, I resent."

Mahaya winced. "Sorry," he said again. "But you were being more of a fool than Harûk. There is no way you could have survived the battle."

"I know," she sighed. "I know. So you are forgiven, this time."

"Can we stay on track, please?" Harûk said. "Remuil is missing. This is a problem."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because we looked for his body after the battle," Mahaya said. "When they were piling up all the corpses. And his was the only one we couldn't find."

"So he's alive?" she asked.

"Well he's turned into a ghost if he is," Harûk said. "We've neither seen nor heard him since the battle. We knew he marched out with your folk, so we were hoping you might know."

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "But I've heard nothing. My brother hasn't mentioned anything either, but I could ask him."

"Don't bother," Mahaya said. "If he's keeping a low profile, there's probably a reason. I just hope that he'll come and find us after a while."

"We've nowhere to go otherwise," Harûk said, serious for once. "There's four left in the crew of the Haedannen. We can't man our ship, we have no way back to the coast. We need him."

"You'll always have a place with my people," she said. "If Remuil is dead, or if he doesn't come back, you can come East with me and my people. You'll have a home with us."

Harûk hummed. "Aren't the Khandi sort of crazy zealot warriors?"

She raised an eyebrow as Mahaya elbowed him in the side. "Ungrateful sea-slug," he said. Then he turned to Tíniel. "I'll take up on your offer. If there is no Haedannen, there's nothing left for me at sea. A new start would be appreciated."

"I suppose I might come along for the walk too," Harûk said. "But only if we can't find Remuil."

"Or if he stops avoiding us," Tíniel said darkly. She remembered asking him his true name before he'd left.

If we meet again after the Black Gate, I will tell you, he'd said. Now she wondered if he was avoiding her – avoiding everyone who might recognise him – so that his past could stay hidden a little longer. She didn't know if she felt annoyed or relieved that it was no longer her problem.

But then she felt a prickling on the back of her neck. She looked up, and he was there, staring right at her. He stood on the outer wall of the city, looking down at the King's encampment, the hood of his dark cloak turned up to hide his face. But she recognised him instantly, and she knew that his piercing blue eyes were fixed on her. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing from sight.

"What?" Harûk was saying. "What is it?"

She shook her head, mystified. "Never, ever try to understand an Elf," she said.

Thank you all so much for reading, and also to my beautiful reviewers. Let me know what you thought of the chapter – or, if you're a binge-reader (my favourite kind of reader), tell me what you think of the story so far! We're getting really close to winding up, and even though the thought of marking this story 'Completed' is low-key heartbreaking, it also brings us to some super exciting chapters.

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