****************
He had never slept so well in his life. The sensation of a warm, soft
body pressed up against his was soothing, and to wake up and find that
the most beautiful woman in Middle-Earth was curled up against him was
amazing, to say the least.
For all her grace and poise when awake, Anemosi was a surprisingly
difficult person to sleep with. Her nocturnal acrobatics had nearly pushed
him off the bed several times, and she kept stealing all the sheets. He
had awakened over and over to find her bundled up beside him and to find
himself shivering in the cool night air.
Right now, she was sprawled out across the bed like spilled water. Her hair had come undone from its braids and lay in twisting glory over the pillows. One leg was slung his belly, effectively holding him in place. Until that morning, he hadn't know that someone's back could bend that way.
He lifted a silver lock of hair from the pillow and smoothed it through his hands. Everything about her was a wonder. Her hair looked hard and inflexible as steel when she was still, but when she moved, it was like the clouds flowing over the moon. Even her skin looked as if it would be cool to the touch, like the granite of an exquisite statue, but she was warm and vibrant to the touch.
*Yes indeed, bless me, but she's warm!* he thought dreamily and brushed his lips over hers. She awoke slowly, groaning as her body contorted into an amazing dancer's stretch, showing off joints that Sam had never knew existed, and finally opened her glorious eyes to a new day. They were like twin sunrises as they caught the light.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he murmured, and kissed her again.
"Mmmm." She still looked sleepy, and yawned in response. She grinned at him happily, and he was just leaning down to kiss her once more when his stomach growled loudly. He blushed as she laughed merrily.
"Sorry 'bout that, Anemosi, but seeing as I've already missed two meals already, I'm right famished!"
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Two meals? But it's barely time for lunch!"
He shook his head in amazement as they rose from the bed. She obviously didn't know about second breakfast, or elevenses. This would take some explaining....
****************
The door to the great hall slammed open, and Frodo glanced up from his second helping of sausages to see who was entering, a shot of fear jolting through his system as he remembered Embrai's last entrance into the hall.
It was Anemosi, with her hair like a living cape over her shoulders and back. It seemed to move of its own accord as she strode gracefully into the hall, and all heads turned to look at her as if they were tied to her by string. As usual, she was blissfully unaware of the effect that her unearthly appearance had on others.
She looked refreshed and happy, Frodo noticed, as she came into the dining hall with Sam holding on to her hand like he would never let go. Sam, seeing Frodo, waved and pointed him out to Anemosi. Forsaking her usual place at the head of the high table, she followed Sam with silent footsteps to sit with Frodo, Pippin, and Merry, who greeted her with full mouths. Sam seated himself between next to Frodo, and Anemosi gracefully lowered herself into a chair on his opposite side.
In his simple, devoted way, Sam immediately began to bustle about,
trying to serve both Anemosi and Frodo as best he could at the same time,
but he became so flustered that he ended up spilling a cup of fruit juice
on Pippin's head. Frodo and Anemosi forced him to sit down, and calmly
Frodo went about serving Sam
himself.
Other than Pippin ranting about how he now smelled like berries, the meal began cheerfully, with no mention of the events of the previous days. It seemed as if everyone at the table was consciously avoiding the subject to spare themselves the pain. Lord Radik's presence was sorely missed at the table, and a feeling of dread seemed to drift above his chair, which remained empty at the head of the table.
Frodo could see the devastation that the past few days had visited upon Anemosi. She was thinner than ever and he could see bruises through the filmy material of her shift, a darker grey that showed up starkly against the silver-tinted pallor of her skin. How she had managed to survive under the stress without breaking down was a mystery to Frodo, but one whose origins that he mostly attributed to Sam. This morning, however, another force seemed to be acting upon her, and Frodo felt inexplicably to blame. Anemosi's good mood seemed more strained and forced the longer the meal went on. Her laughter grew shrill and for the first time Sam noticed dark circles under her eyes. Her skin had a strangely translucent quality to it, and she was trembling almost imperceptibly. Sam felt a familiar sensation of despair building up within him; this was the way Frodo had looked in Ré-Nancet before they had come to Siobhangé. The Ring, he realized with a hideous feeling of failure exploding in his heart, was affecting Anemosi too.
Frodo had noticed the way that Anemosi was behaving, how she started backwards every time he accidentally brushed against the bare skin of her arm, how her eyes were constantly growing vague and blurry before a direct address brought her back to the conversation. She barely picked at her food, merely swirling it around on her plate. The atmosphere grew more tense and nervous as it continued. Even Pippin and Merry noticed, forsaking their meals to glance nervously at each other as her skittish manner became more and more pronounced. Finally, Anemosi threw her chair back and rose, shaking visibly.
"Forgive me, sirs, but I must go...I have things to do..." With an audible moan, she almost ran from the table. Sam started to get up to follow her, but she was gone before he could catch her.
She had barely reached the corridor before the tears started. *The Ring!* she thought bitterly as she ran through the halls, seeking some sort of comfort. *It burns! Oh Sweet Lady, it burns me!*
This was a pain that could not be assuaged. It was within her, it was a part of her. It was too deep to heal, too insidious to be explained. The Ring had destroyed her mother, its minions had killed her brother, and now it was seeking to destroy her. What was this twist of fate that had brought her undoing to stand laughing before her? The Fellowship could not, would not know of her pain. She ran, never stopping, sobbing with an ache that was swallowing her whole.
She felt as of she were tied to two huge trees that were slowly being pulled in opposite directions. Sooner or later, powerful as she now was, she would be torn asunder. She had watched her mother die, screaming in agony as the two forces of the Ring and the Power drove her to a torment more terrible than any that could be invented in Barad-Dur. And now, it seemed, her fate was to be the same. Oh Lady! She would do anything just to lie in Sam's arms again, sweetly resting in peace, but no, even that refuge was denied to her now. After only one night with him, after only a few short hours of being able to be near him, she was driven away by the Ring. If only they knew! If only there was something they could do!
They could leave.
No! Not yet. Gandalf was still needed to teach her how to control this Power, to give her some strength to carry with her when they finally did depart. Oh, saying farewell to Sam...but that did not bear thinking about.
She fell to her knees, having driven her body to its own huge limits. Anemosi lay panting on a cool stone floor, her mind whirling crazily. When she came back to her senses, she found herself lying upon the floor of the chapel.
She pushed herself into a sitting position so she could gaze upon the statue of the Lady before her. It was the work of the first fey artist, a blind woman who had still managed to carve the most exquisite statue to be found under the sun. The Lady stood with her arms outstretched, her eyes closed and her face gentle with delicate sorrow. It was said that the face of the Lady changed to match that of each of the Lady Radikas, ever since its creation, and ever since Anemosi could remember, she had been able to see a trace of her mother's elegant beauty on the statue. She crept forward, trembling with fear at what she might she now.
She saw herself in the face of the Lady, but more than that, she saw every face of every woman who had ever carried the Power before her. Their names flowed past her like wine, cool and sweet: Trentis...Raîte...Ninyara...Silnaté...over and over, never stopping; the Power of the Lady had flowed in all of them.
It flowed in her now. Countless ages of strength and power were echoing in the finite measures of her skull, and her heart was comforted. The Lady Radikas had always suffered, yes, but where one had lain down her burden, another had always taken it up again. It was hers to bear now.
Another name fell into her mind as she stood before the statue. It was a simple name, but true, much like the person behind it. And like all names, it could not define the person it labeled, but it would sing in her heart forever.
*Sam!* she thought with sudden clarity. *Oh, dearest Sam, I pray that you shall not see me when the time for my trial comes.* She was unconscious of the tears that fell down her face, and she barely heard the door to the chapel open as Kerra came in.
"Lady," came Kerra's voice, soft and pure in the silence of the chapel. "Lady Radika, forgive me for disturbing you, but there is need of your presence." Her voice trembled vaguely as she spoke.
"What is it?" Anemosi whispered, not trusting herself to speak loudly.
"The Nazgul...are here, my lady."
She whirled around. "What?"
Kerra bowed her head. "I have just come from the borders, my Lady.
The Nazgul have entered the city with a company of orcs. They have...they
have...slaughtered the border patrols. They are killing any in their
path...they have entered the palace...and they--they are demanding your
presence."
"How did they get into Siobhangé?" Anemosi gasped. "There was no warning!"
Kerra looked ready to weep. "My Lady," she whispered brokenly. "Your father let them in. He is the one demanding your presence." Her eyes met Anemosi's, two gazes filled with pain and endless suffering. "Lady, the Quest is undone."
"Not yet, Kerra," hissed Anemosi. "As long as there is one fey
left alive, the Fellowship will not fail." With one last look at the statue
to fortify herself, Anemosi left the chapel with Kerra following close
behind.