Chaya stared in horror as the Hidland party straggled in. With eyes wide, she examined each panic-stricken face that slipped through the makeshift barrier at the gates of the Eorlingas fortress, hoping the next would be Eilif. Truva rode in – surely she would know of her brother's whereabouts! Yet no sooner had the shieldmaiden arrived than she slipped from the saddle, unconscious. Chaya flew to her friend's side, though the Dúnedain were even lighter on their feet; a trio lifted her limp form and dashed off before Chaya could so much as draw near.
Nearly two score Hidlanders had entered the outer court before Halbarad appeared at last, in rear of those he protected. Chaya peered past the Ranger's shoulder, hoping against hope – against hope – he drew near, the news clear upon his face – and still she hoped—!
Halbarad did not speak. At the mere shake of his head, Chaya leapt past him and darted toward the barrier, desperate. He caught her in his arms, restraining her.
"No, you cannot go!" he beseeched her. "You will be lost; the fellbeast threatens still!"
"Eilif!" Chaya shrieked, her cries mingling with that of the fellbeast as archers upon the walls fended off its attacks, though she was oblivious to all things beyond the haze that impinged upon her vision. She thrashed against Halbarad's grip, yet he did not loose it.
"Wait until first light," he said, his voice low in an attempt to calm her. "Wait until morn, and we shall find him then."
"Find him in what state?" she shouted. "Do not keep me from my brother! If I am to suffer the same fate, then so be it!"
"His loss was senseless enough – do not add yours to it."
"It matters not, now that all that I have ever loved in the world is gone!" Yet even as she strained against his clasping arms, tears coursing down her cheeks, Halbarad held her tighter. Slowly her writhing subsided, though her breath came in sharp gasps.
"You must rest," said Halbarad. "We've all had precious little of it these past few days."
"I wish to rest as my brother does!" Chaya sobbed, yet her limbs and lungs burned, and she found all strength sapped from both body and spirit. At last she gave in to Halbarad, allowing her full weight to fall slack in his arms as he supported her along the flagstone pathways of the Hornburg toward the keep.
A passing Eorlingas guard stopped them momentarily to say, "If you are in search of the enlisted barracks, they are on the lower levels."
"Thank you," said Halbarad. "And the kitchens?"
"I will see that sustenance is sent to you."
"That would be greatly appreciated," he replied. Chaya's glazed eyes slipped unseeing over their surroundings as the Ranger led her deeper into the fortress, down stone stairwells and along chilly passageways. She did not perceive the tapestried barracks walls, illuminated by the golden flicker of torches, or the row upon row of neatly aligned canvas cots. Even as Halbarad lowered her upon one, its fabric rough beneath her fingers, she failed to acknowledge many of the Hidlanders that lounged within the long, low-ceilinged chamber.
An Eorlingas pageboy arrived shortly bearing a steaming bowl of soup, but Chaya's stomach churned at the thought of eating. How could she have ridden on without her brother, leaving him to fend for himself! Had she not believed him lost once already—! How many meals would Eilif not partake in, having been torn so cruelly and unfairly from the world after a short, brutal existence? And Chaya would linger, burdened with the knowledge that – after the briefest glimmers of hope – she had again failed the single person she had ever cared for.
She turned from Halbarad, who accepted the soup from the page and seated himself beside her cot. She could sense his eyes upon her, and heard him place the bowl upon the table in a concession of defeat. "I will wake you at first light," he said quietly, scarcely audible over the chatter and bustle of the other Hidlanders. "We will go in search of your brother then."
"Before," said Chaya.
"Beg pardon?"
"Before," she repeated. "Wake me before first light, for I would not waste a single moment."
"Very well, then," said Halbarad, and Chaya heard him settle into the chair for the night. She drew the blankets tighter about her shoulders and over her face, so that none would see the gleam of tears there.
True to his word, the gloom of predawn still filtered through the entryway when Halbarad laid a gentle hand upon Chaya's shoulder. There was no need to wake her, however, for already her eyes were open; indeed, they had not closed once throughout the long night.
Neither spoke as they emerged from the barracks, not even when they encountered Aragorn and several other Dúnedain just beyond the barricade. Short nods were exchanged between the company members as they mounted up and struck out across the gorge, drawing behind them a light wagon. All too soon they had passed over Helm's Dike and gained the open grassland.
Faint light fell across the plains, painting the undulating currents of wild rye in diffuse pinks and blues. The song of thrushes lilted on the air, preoccupied with their own concerns and oblivious to those of the party. Chaya was loath to scan the horizon, for she feared what she might find, though she knew that she must.
The frantic passing of the company the previous night had left each side of the Great Road trampled and nearly unreadable, yet Aragorn rode on with confidence, as though the earth spoke to him in a language incomprehensible to the others. Chaya kept her eyes trained behind, upon the land they had already passed.
Nevertheless, she was the first to spy the dark mound nearly obscured amidst thick clumps of switchgrass. Unable to speak, all that came was a strangled cry that clawed at her throat as she tumbled from her horse and raced through the hillocks, tripping over the uneven ground, and fell upon her brother.
The figure before her was one Chaya scarcely recognized; the skin of Eilif was ashen and cold, his body contorted to unsightly angles. Chaya struggled to rearrange his limbs, but they were stiff, unwieldy. She became increasingly distraught as she rubbed his hands, desperate to conjure some warmth back into them, merely sapping her own. The Dúnedain assembled around the Hidland siblings, and when Halbarad placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder Chaya found herself seeking refuge in his arms; for unlike the night before she found his touch soothing, and her ragged breath gradually became even once more.
No tears came as she sat in a daze, the others working swiftly to dig a grave shallow yet large enough to accommodate Eilif's hapless mount. Their work done, Halbarad aided Chaya to her feet, and together they laid Eilif within the wagon bed. Aragorn spread a cover over his still form as they mounted up.
Chaya understood then that she had never known true misery before; for it was not until she confirmed with her own eyes her brother's death that the last flicker of hope in her breast was extinguished. Long ago in the Hidlands – when Dregant had lied to her about Eilif's death – she had felt some small sense of relief in knowing that her brother was free from such brutality; now he had been robbed of a life beyond the Hidlands, of the possibility of a full future, of joy and happiness and love. Yet Chaya had allowed such misfortune to occur with no attempt to prevent it, and for that she could not forgive herself.
"Had you lingered with the others, you yourself might also have faced a similar fate," said Halbarad softly, for he saw the pensive look upon Chaya's face. "One is already too great a sacrifice."
"I feel as though my very spirit was sacrificed, regardless," she said, eyes downturned. Halbarad fell quiet then, for he too had experienced loss, and knew that no words could possibly serve as a salve against such deep wounds.
Already the Hornburg had begun to bustle with morning activity by the time the expedition returned, though as the company passed each warrior paused and turned in silent respect for the fallen. In the inner court the wagon was left, and the party bore Eilif upon a litter to the King's chamber within the burg. They laid him upon a vast oaken table, still shrouded in the veil which Aragorn had placed upon him, and stood about in uncertainty of how to proceed.
"He shall rest here," said Aragorn at last. "Let any who wish to do so say their final goodbyes throughout the day; preparations will meanwhile be made for his burial upon the morrow. It is great misfortune that our circumstances have limited the ways in which we might honor him, yet we shall do our utmost to see that it is not without honor that he passes from us."
Several moments passed before Chaya understood that he spoke to her. "Thank you, my lord," she said, though no emotions were present in her glassy eyes.
"Yes, well," said Aragorn, though there was no concluding thought. He gave her shoulder a gentle pat, nodded to Halbarad, then turned toward the exit. "I must see to Truva; her condition is precarious yet."
The others followed him out – all save Halbarad, who remained behind to keep watch over Chaya and her brother. He placed a chair near the table upon which Eilif rested and gently led Chaya to it. She sat unheeding, a vacant look upon her face, the same thoughts constantly wrestling in her mind: remorse for having failed to protect her brother, sorrow for all that he had endured, grief for the life he would not live. She rocked back and forth, reaching out to clasp her brother's hand then suddenly retracting; for she could not break herself from her mind's ensnaring chain, and found her anguish unable to be articulated.
Halbarad gave no hint of expectation, however. He did not speak, nor did he move about, merely stood by the door and kept to himself. Chaya found herself calmed by this imperturbable presence, by the quietude that settled within the King's close chamber walls. Yet after a time, some inexplicable urge caused her to turn to the Ranger suddenly and say, "Will you not join me?"
Halbarad started slightly, yet it took but a single glance at her expression for him to say, "Of course." He drew up an additional chair beside Chaya and extended a hand toward her fidgeting ones – no more than an offer, yet one which she gratefully accepted.
"Thank you," she whispered, though his only response was the gentle tightening of his grip. Early dawn shifted toward genuine morning and still they sat unmoving, the stillness of the chamber contrasted with the muffled sounds that drifted in from beyond. It was not until the scent of baking bread wafted upon the air that Halbarad was roused from his ruminations.
"Will you not at least attempt to eat some semblance of breakfast?" he asked. "Something mild, even if you haven't the heart. I suspect we shall soon be on the move again, and it would not do to be underfed when the time comes."
"If you insist," Chaya sighed, rising wearily, yet she found her path obstructed as Blackbramble entered to pay his respects. Without a word, the Hidlander laid a heavy hand upon Chaya's shoulder, and the entirety of his sentiments were expressed; for he too had grown terribly fond of the enthusiastic young boy on their journey southward. Tears gleamed in his eyes a moment before he stepped from the doorway and made way for Chaya's exit.
Halbarad led her down a short passageway to the great hall, where already many of the Hidlanders and Dúnedain had gathered. In comparison to the King's chambers, the lofty arches and long tables of the hall were overwhelming to Chaya, as was the hum of countless conversations between those that sat there. Some rose and gave her a brief greeting of commiseration, others looked upon her with pity before glancing away. None were unfamiliar with death in the Valley, yet none knew how to lend comfort in its wake.
Half a dozen Hidlanders, all seated about a table near the center of the hall, getured for Chaya and Halbarad to join them. The mood was subdued when they took a seat, and even as the thread of conversation was resumed, Chaya merely looked on absentmindedly, neither willing nor able to form words. They talked of what rumors they had heard regarding what was to become of them, and of the magnificence of the Hornburg, yet with one eye upon their silent companion the Hidlanders were careful to avoid speaking on the events of the previous night.
Chaya would not have noticed even if they had; indeed, she would have been content to sit senseless unless otherwise directed. Nor did she have any true intention of eating, yet breakfast nevertheless appeared before her: a wide array of bread and fruit, porridge and eggs – for many of the Hidlanders sought to convey their sympathy through culinary offerings.
Burdened by their kindness and Halbarad's watchful gaze, Chaya made a great show of tearing off a tremendous slab of bread. Mouthful upon mouthful she choked down, tasting nothing save ash and soot, as if she placed guilt upon her tongue with every bite. Halbarad appeared satisfied to see her eat, though he rose from his seat as soon as he confirmed she was making a genuine effort.
"I must go in search of Aragorn," he said by way of explanation when the Hidlanders looked to him in confusion. "Eat," he commanded Chaya before surreptitiously exiting the hall. The instant he was gone, Chaya dropped all affectation of appetite.
It was thus with confusion, however, that she observed the Dúnedain chieftain enter the hall alone but a few minutes later – absent his second in command. As Aragorn strode through the hall to join the Elves' company near the rear, Chaya wondered where had Halbarad gone, if not in search of his captain. She was pushing the last spoonfuls of potatoes and spinach around her plate when the doors of the hall cracked open and in slipped Truva, supported by Halbarad.
Silence fell immediately within the hall, until the suspense was broken by a sudden whoop from Blackbramble. But unlike the others, who all crowded around their heroic leader, Chaya lost all corporeal awareness and merely stared oblivious upon her friend's broken figure, shattered in the attempt to save Eilif. Despite the fathomless depths of her own grief and misery, Chaya knew that Truva, too, must suffer greatly; for though she bore no hand in it, the Hidland leader would surely feel responsible for Eilif's fate.
Chaya's body moved forward of its own volition, pushing through the crowd of Hidlanders until she stood directly before Truva and could see the full extent of the damage. Shock left her speechless; she had allowed Truva to suffer so terribly, when it ought to have been she herself in such a state! Compulsion once again guided Chaya when she threw her arms about her friend, tears coursing down her face. Truva returned her embrace, and they stood one supporting the other for a very, very long time.
The shoulders within Chaya's arms shook and she heard a rattled sob beside her ear. "I am so sorry, so sorry," cried Truva. "If only I could have done more!"
The claws of guilt dug deeper into Chaya's heart to hear how Truva faulted herself for Eilif's demise. Even so, she could not find the words to speak her true emotions, and said only, "None of us can do any more than all that we are capable of." It was a hint of consolation not only to Truva, but also to herself.
Aragorn approached then and drew Truva and Halbarad away. Having relinquished all hope in breakfast, Chaya stole from the hall unnoticed and returned to the King's chambers, where she sat beside her brother even as the day wore on. Hidlanders and Rangers came and went, greeting their fallen companion in twos and threes, and still Chaya did not move.
Nor would she have, had Halbarad once more disturbed her ruminations. "It is nearly midday," he said. "Will you not come take your noontime meal? You did not so much as eat three bites at breakfast."
Chaya looked upon him with eyes red and swollen, and it was with a hint of renewed perception that she recognized Halbarad had been unfooled by her display that morning. She rose from the chair and moved toward the door, the Ranger following close behind.
"Yes," she said, "I shall join you soon, but you may go on without me; I should like to see Truva first. Do you know where she might be found?"
Halbarad eyed her, doubtful, yet the faint light in Chaya's features convinced him she spoke the truth. "I believe she is resting in the infirmary," and gestured off toward his right. Chaya swiftly made her way along the corridor in the direction he had indicated, leaving the bemused Dúnadan in her wake.
When she found what she surmised to be the infirmary – an open entryway cordoned off with no more than a white linen curtain that billowed in the noontime sunlight – she knocked gently at the doorframe, though there was no answer. Within, Chaya found Truva in a deep sleep, her face serene, the ever-present furrow between her brows smoothed. The faint smell of alpine woods on a spring day hung upon the air.
"She rests peacefully," said a quiet voice. Chaya leapt slightly and turned toward the rear of the infirmary, where Aragorn emerged from the shadows, a mortar and pestle in his hands as he crushed strange plants to a paste.
"How is her condition?" Chaya asked, relaxing only slightly
"It will not be an easy recovery," said Aragorn, "But nevertheless a recovery she shall make." He sat in a chair at Truva's bedside, placing the mortar upon a table next to a sprig of white blossoms that lay there. Chaya observed as he delicately added the crushed herbs to a bowl of steaming water, and wetting a cloth in the mixture mopped Truva's brow. The tenderness Aragorn demonstrated toward his patient put Chaya in mind of the affection she bore for her brother.
Silence lapsed between them for a time before Aragorn spoke again without turning his attention from Truva. "The company will depart on the morrow," he said. "We shall hold a funeral for your brother, then set out as quickly as possible. You had best pack."
"Yes, my lord," said Chaya, thankful for any task save eating under the watchful, pitying eye of her friends.
The remaining horse of the day passed in a haze, for indeed there was little to pack and even fewer duties to be seen to. Some of the Hidland and Dúnedain company passed the time in game, having been supplied with cards and other such trinkets by the guard of Hornburg; others simply conversed with their Eorlingas host. Chaya gazed listlessly on as they played, unable to share in their lighthearted joy; and she strove to evade Halbarad come supper time, so that she might retire to sleep early.
Morning could not come swiftly enough, for even in the darkness of the barracks Chaya's eyes remained open throughout the night. Near the hour of third watch, she arose and wandered through the burg – its stillness a salve to her fraught emotions – and found herself once more within the King's chambers, where she spent the remaining early hours before dawn, haunted by her own ruminations.
Just as first light filtered in through the window, a small party arrived to bear Eilif into the great hall. "Come now," said Halbarad softly, placing a hand upon Chaya's shoulder.
Aragorn likewise sought to reassure her with a gentle pat. "Rise," he urged, "And walk before us; we shall place your brother upon our shoulders, for he was noble, and even in so short a time many came to love him. He was born free, and so shall he eternally be."
Chaya roughly brushed the tears from her eyes as she stood, and together they lifted the body of Eilif and bore him to the King's Hall, where they placed him upon a bier, hastily constructed in the Hidlander's honor by the most gifted Dúnedain woodmaker among their company. Aragorn cast upon him a dark veil, and about him the company gathered, approaching one by one to convey their final greeting.
A numbness prevailed in Chaya's mind as she gazed upon her brother's still figure, the peaks of his features protruding beneath the pall so very reminiscent of those mountains that had reigned in their homeland. Truva appeared without a word at her side, as did Blackbramble, and Chaya felt the empathy that radiated from her friends.
Yet when Halbarad said, "It is time," she suddenly grew so much more unsure. The finality of events seemed inescapably real – for it was, though Chaya had not fully realized it until that precise moment. Not even as she led the procession from the Hall and beyond the fortress gates, nor when the burial mounds loomed overhead, or when the pallbearers placed Eilif within the earth, could she dislodge the panic that rose up from within her stomach to wrap spindly fingers about her throat.
Words swirled just out of Chaya's grasp; some were spoken to her, or around her, yet each fragment of conversation became a hazy blur, the meaning indistinct and indiscernible. Perhaps she answered, or perhaps she did not; the sensation of words leaving her lips was as feeble as a lone dandelion wisp upon a spring breeze.
Chaya found herself being handed an ignited torch. With strange lack of hesitancy, she touched its flame to the pyre.
The crackle of fire consuming wood, and the strength of Truva's grip upon one side and Halbarad's on the other, overpowered Chaya's senses. She craned her neck to follow the sparks as they leapt and danced toward the lightening sky, glowing faintly for a brief moment before flickering into ash.