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One of Anemosi's first decisions after her arrival back home was to call in every faery from the surrounding area and city into Siobhangé. This had been done on Gandalf's advice, which he supported by claiming that one city would be easier to defend than many, and Anemosi agreed. Siobhangé was quite large enough for all the fey to live in at once, even more so now that two more fey cities had fallen to the orcs.
"Four cities...Bandabît, Lreesa, Ykorda, and Gendahesh. All gone," Kerra mused as she poured over a map stretched out on a table before her.She had finally insisted upon Anemosi going to bed and resting, and was well aware that Sam had joined the princess during the night. She was glad that Anemosi could glean some small comfort in these dark days, but she still knew that while the Ring remained in Siobhangé, Anemosi's well-being was at stake.
She turned her sapphire gaze upon Gandalf, who reclined in a heavy oaken chair and was pensively smoking his pipe. "Our people are weakening, Gandalf. Our time for counter-attacks is slipping away, and yet you still counsel patience?"
Gandalf drew the pipe away from his mouth. "The storm is still brewing, Lady Kerra. I advise you not to hurry its arrival."
Kerra swore and shoved the maps off on to the floor. "It is brewing, Master Gandalf? It is already here!" She swung around the table in a fit of rage so potent that he rocked back in his chair.
"The Ring weakens Anemosi, day by day. Lord Radik has been claimed by the Nazgul. Four of our cities have fallen to the orcs, and the blood of countless fey runs through my hands!" She raised her fists above her head in a paroxysm of pain. "And yet you counsel we do nothing! We have protected your Ringbearer, and your Fellowship, though we could have stayed quiet and secret, and remained safe! Who are you, Mithrandir, to counsel patience when all I can hear is the screaming of the innocents as they are put to the blades of the orcs? We had no business to fight! This is your war, not ours! We have no place in this but the niche you carved for us. Damn you for eternity!"
She was barely an inch from his face, spitting as she shrieked wildly at him. The old man was terrified of the crimson-tressed warrior; she had become huge and dark with anger and despair. Before, one look at her was enough to break a man's heart. Now, one look into her glittering eyes was enough to break a man's will.
She straightened, and shrank back into herself once more. She turned from Gandalf and gripped the edge of the table weakly, shivering visibly.
"Forgive, Master Gandalf. My grief is too powerful." She threw her head back, pain echoing in every tendon of her body. "We have lost too much, and we stand to lose everything unless we act."
Gandalf was amazed. Kerra, the inscrutable, silent warrior, was laying bare something of herself to him that she had never done before. She was vulnerable, a state she was obviously not used to.
"We cannot lose the Lady Radika," she continued softly. "She is the very life of the fey; if she perishes, we die also." A tear rolled down the smooth marble of Kerra's cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. "And I cannot bear to see her suffer."
Gandalf blinked. There was a curious emphasis on that last phrase, a note barely detectable. What did it mean?
"The hobbit means a great deal to her," Kerra said needlessly. "They have become...close, and as it is my duty to protect Lady Radika's best interests, he falls under my protection too."
"Lady Kerra, what are you getting at?" Gandalf had risen, keeping in mind the low ceiling. "What are you saying?"
"You must take her with you, when you leave," Kerra replied tonelessly. "As long as she stays alive, the fey will survive."
"That's preposterous!" Gandalf was astonished. "Who are you, Lady Kerra, to think that we will survive?"
"I don't know! I can only try to keep her safe for as long as I have breath in my body. The Nazgul know the Ring is in Siobhangé. They will return, though we do not know the hour. You must leave before they come again. You, Master Gandalf, can keep her safe, and Sam," she choked, her voice catching in her throat. "Sam will keep her safe as well."
So that was it. The hobbit was the cause of Kerra's pain. Why hadn't he seen it before? It was obvious, now that it was laid bare, not so much by Kerra's words but by the undercurrent of emotion in her words.
Kerra was in love with the Lady Radika. Completely, hopelessly, silently in love. He stared at her in surprise, and she nodded slowly, knowing his thoughts without asking.
"What love cannot give openly, it will give in sacrifice." Her
voice was flat and despairing. "I will die for her. My life was dedicated
to her. If her place is with Master Samwise, then so be it." Kerra seemed
to draw inward and become smaller, pained and lonely. "My life and heart
for her happiness. She is everything to the fey." Kerra moved to the window,
where her tears fell down onto the roses in the garden beneath them. "And
she is everything to me."