Chapter 13

Two figures stood high on a grey tower; an elf-maiden and her brother. Their fair hair blew in the wind behind them as they looked out on the sea.

 "I understand why he has been so long, Nuincú," said the maiden, "From the moment he left I knew he would not return in haste. But he will return, of that I am certain. Now I desire to go to him and wait no longer at the havens while he faces the perils of the world without me. An ageing world, yet he loves it so much so, that he cannot leave it."

 "And what of thy feelings?" said Nuincú, "Does thou desire to stay in middle-earth longer?"

 "Nay," she replied, "Yet I cannot depart without him. I shall stay as he stays. Besides, I am keen to meet the maiden, for if he has taken her as a sister, she is a sister to me also."

 "Lindil told me thee would understand but I did not believe it."

 "If only he had told me earlier of his plans to stay I would have travelled with him. But we were very far by the time he had made those plans."

 "Thee, Nimril?" asked her brother, "Travel all those miles to Erebor and Gondor?"

 "I would have gone for him."

 "And been a nuisance to him no doubt," said her brother, "It is better this way."

 "I mean to go after him, Nuincú," she said resolutely.

 "Folly!"

 "Thou are to come with me."

 "I shall not go and neither will thee."

 Nimril was about to reply when something caught her eye. Her fair face suddenly became troubled and she pointed out to the sea.

 "Nuincú, what does thou see yonder?" she cried, "To mine eyes is seems as though a flame were floating across the sea."

 "Yes," said an older voice.

 They turned to see Lindil's father, Lindir, standing behind them.

 "Though 'tis more than a flame," he said, "I have had word with Cirdan and he tells me that it is a ship bearing a being of fire.  Sauron may have fallen yet it seems another is coming to take his place."

 "What must we do?" asked Nuincú.

 "Defend the havens and prevent the evil from entering middle-earth. The ship travels fast. We have little time."

 Nimril gripped her brother's arm as she watched her fellow elves already gathering under the guidance of Cirdan.

 "Why is this happening?" said Nimril, "Now, when we should be leaving these shores in peace, another trouble appears on the horizon. And I have not even Lindil with me to face it."

 "Then go," said Lindir, "Find that foolish son of mine and stay with him away from here till the danger has passed."

 "Nay, for I cannot leave here when my peoples are threatened. I must stay and see this through to whatever end there may be," she replied.

 "Nimril," said Nuincú, "Follow Lindir's counsel. I would have thee safe with your betrothed now. If anything were to happen to thee he would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself."

 "First thee forbid me to go and now thee forbid me to stay. I shall do what in my heart feels right. I shall stay."

 Lindir smiled.

 "You have a will to match Lindil's," he said, "Let us hope you are both of you right. He, for going and you, for staying."

 "We shall find out soon enough," said Nuincú.

 They all looked toward the sea as the flame drew nearer. As it came, many turned away from the brightness of the fire. Soon they would know with what purpose it had come.

*******

 Adugristwen took Mithlhach and Lindil to the small stable as soon as they awoke the next morning. There they witnessed the grace and beauty of Adugristwen's beloved horse. As Adugristwen brushed his dark mane she looked expectantly at Mithlhach.

  "Yes," said Mithlhach, "He is indeed lovely."

 Hesitantly, Mithlhach reached a hand out to stroke the horse and it moved forward to nuzzle her hand. She laughed and Lindil noticed some relief in the sound of it.

 "I knew you would like him," said Adugristwen, "I love him dearly but I'm afraid it makes poor Alta indo very jealous. I can never travel without him as well."

 "Never?" asked Mithlhach, "Then he is here too?"

 "Yes, he is here."

 She opened a door and inside was a brown pony idly chewing some hay. He trotted towards Adugristwen and nuzzled her shoulder.

 "Poor thing," she said, "I have not forgotten you. I just do not know what to do with you now."

 The pony did not seem to remember Mithlhach but it was friendly all the same.

 "Come, Mithlhach," said Lindil, "It is time for us to depart."

 "Farewell then, Adugristwen," said Mithlhach.

 "Must you leave so soon?" asked Adugristwen.

 "My brother must be waiting for me."

 "Then farewell, old friend."

 Mithlhach and Lindil went out to their boat and heaved it back into the water. As they floated down the river, Mithlhach turned back and saw Adugristwen wave to them from a cliff. She waved back and then got ready to row. Suddenly, she heard Lindil's pleasant laugh.

 "What amuses you now?" asked Mithlhach.

 "Do you not see?"

 "See what?"

 "No matter," he said.

 "Tell me, so that I may share in your mirth."

 "I would rather not."

 "Are you keeping secrets from me?"

 "You keep secrets from me all the time."

 "Not for my own amusement."

 Lindil smiled at her but would say not a word.

 As the river took them to Osgiliath the dark jagged walls of Mordor appeared to the left like the black bones of a vicious beast that once was dangerous but now was dead. To the right rose the White Mountains, in which the white city was embedded, glistening like crystal in the sunlight. It was to these mountains that Mithlhach's gaze went. She would not even glance to the east but she still felt a coldness steal over her heart. A sudden shiver and the feeling was gone.

 "Do you think we shall reach the city by nightfall?" she asked of Lindil.

 "If we row thus without pause, then of a surety we shall reach it."

 The elf looked behind them, gazing far into the distance.

 "I see no sign of the knights," he said.

 "They may have overtaken us as we made our way through the mountains. Can we not make this boat go any faster?"

 "Row faster then," said Lindil, "But sustain yourself first."

 Mithlhach did so and then rowed until her arms ached and blisters appeared on her fingers. Despite the burst of speed they still did not reach Osgiliath till it was dark. They left the boat and made their way to the city on foot. It was very late when after passing through all the gates of the city they finally entered it. They asked the last gatekeeper about the knights and were dismayed though not surprised that the knights had come and gone already, taking their prisoner along with them.

 "Prisoner?" asked Lindil.

 "Yes indeed. As I hear it, one of the knights killed a lady and they are taking him to the Prince for judgement."

 They thanked the gatekeeper and looked for an Inn.

 "Perhaps it is best that we stay behind them," said Mithlhach.

 "Why is that?"

 "It will give Ohtar time to be punished for my murder."

 "Would that not be unjust?"

 "He left me for dead."

 "But you are not dead; therefore, it would not be fair to punish him for having taken a life he did not take."

 "Perhaps you are right. It would be better for him to be alive when we reach him."

 She fingered the hilt of her sword as she said so and Lindil was not ignorant of her intentions.

 "Also," she added, "Himthol thinks me dead and I would not have him grieve for me needlessly for much longer."

 They entered the Inn and bespoke of two rooms. It was a little difficult to do so for the other occupants of the room were rather rowdy as they guzzled their beer. An especially loud shout made Mithlhach turn and glare at the one who created it. But her glare soon disappeared and a smile came to her lips.

 "So that was your secret," she said to Lindil.

 He too turned and laughed at what he saw. Three dwarves were sitting around a table, beer mugs in hand, feet not touching the ground and betraying evidence that they had drunk a little too much. Mithlhach walked to their table and looked down at them, her eyes sparkling in amusement. The first to see her was Merin. His eyes widened in shock and he almost fell off his chair. Corin actually did fall off his chair when he saw her, whereas Sarin just stared, guilt-stricken.

 "It is...hic... her spirit!" cried Merin, "She has come to reprimand us!"

 "Oh forgive us spirit," said Corin, getting unsteadily to his feet, "We will curb our drinking habits."

 "And avenge your death to atone," added Merin.

 Lindil marvelled at Mithlhach's ability to hold back her mirth. He was very hard put it not to laugh again himself. Mithlhach caught Corin as he started to topple over and put him on a chair before drawing one up for herself.

 "Is that why you are here?" she asked, "To avenge my death? What do you know of it and how?"

 By this time Sarin had managed to find his tongue as well as part of his senses. His speech seemed surprisingly fluent to Lindil but this was just Sarin's way. He always had control (or at least the semblance of it).

 "We saw fiery arrows shoot into the sky," he said, "So we asked what it meant of a passing messenger and he told us you were dead. So we gathered ourselves into a cart, borrowed two horses to pull it and made our way south. We found a few knights. A horrible battle they seemed to have just been in, terrible really."

 He paused, falling into a daze, and seemed to be very interested in the wall opposite. Mithlhach turned to see what he was looking at but there was nothing there.  When she turned back, Sarin had his face down on the table and was snoring softly. She shook him awake and he continued talking as though nothing had happened.

 "So the knights told us of their prisoner Ohtar who had killed you. But he was not there. Most of the knights had already journeyed on and he was with them. So we came here to avenge your death but it seems we were too late again."

 He looked wistfully into his half-empty jug of beer and then suddenly looked up at Mithlhach as if he had not seen her before. Then he looked at Lindil.

 "What are you doing here?" he asked the elf.

 "I am travelling to Dol Amroth with Mithlhach."

 "With whom?"

 "With me," said Mithlhach.

 "Travelling with a spirit!" cried Corin, "Are you out of your senses, Lindil?"

 "No, master dwarf," replied Lindil with a smile, "It is you who are out of your senses. Have you not yet realised that she is real?"

  All three dwarves turned to Mithlhach and stared at her intently.

 "She does look rather real," said Merin, fidgeting with his beard.

 "How could she be?" asked Corin.

 "When Ohtar left, thinking me dead, Lindil found me," Mithlhach explained.

 "So you are alive then," said Merin slowly.

 "Very much so," she replied.

 "Then you better get some rest before you leave for Dol Amroth tomorrow," said Sarin before promptly falling asleep again.

 The others still did not seem sure that she was really there but they were too sleepy to think about it much and just watched quietly as she left the room to find her bedchamber. When Mithlhach got to her room she opened her bag and took out a small purse. She would have to purchase horses for herself and Lindil in the morning. Satisfied that she had enough to pay for them, she kicked off her boots and took off her belt and jerkin. Finally she fell onto the bed, glad of something soft to sleep on for a change.

*******

Amrothos came back to his room as night fell outside. He looked out of his window and saw angry clouds gathering overhead. They seemed almost red in the night sky as they rolled by.

There was a knock on the door.

 "Himthol?" he said.

 The door opened and it was not Himthol but the knight who had brought the message from the camp before. Amrothos turned to see him, unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes. He knew Himthol would never again speak to him. Amrothos wished with all his heart that Himthol would come and forgive him but he knew that would never happen. He did not deserve forgiveness.

 The knight placed a tray on the side table. It bore a dish of food and a goblet. As the knight left he passed another man who stood in the doorway. The man watched as Amrothos glanced at the food with distaste before going back to the window.

 "Come now, Amrothos," he said, "Even young Alphros does not fuss so about eating his supper."

 "I have not the heart to eat, brother," replied Amrothos.

 "I know what is in your mind," he said, placing a hand firmly on Amrothos' shoulder, "Yet you and I know that it was no fault of yours. Himthol knows it too."

  Amrothos stared down at his hands on the window sill and said nothing so his brother withdrew from the room bidding him a good night.

 The food seemed unappetizing still to Amrothos so he took the goblet and drained it in one gulp. As he gazed at the world outside it seemed to grow foggy and he could hardly see where the shore ended and the sea began. The mist made him dizzy so he turned away from the window, yet still before his eyes there was a mist. He rubbed his eyes but that only served to make his vision more cloudy.

  A dark figure moved towards him in the fast descending darkness, so Amrothos put out his hand to push it away. But his arm felt so weak he could hardly move it. He fumbled for his sword and managed to draw it. He tried to hold it steadily before him but it slipped from his slackening grip with a clatter on the stone floor.

 Suddenly, his legs gave way and he fell limply to the ground. The goblet dropped and spilled wine over the floor beside him like a pool of blood. The figure bent to see Amrothos' fingers but what it sought was not there.