"Greet the day, Snowsteel," came Elrohir's voice softly. My eyes opened, blinking against the sun pouring through the balcony doors. After a moment's panic, I realized that though Anor was well up in the sky, there was still some time before noon.
A strawberry dangled suddenly before my eyes, and a dollop of cream dripped upon my nose. I yelped in surprise, and when my mouth opened, the berry was dropped in. Pushing up on my left elbow, I began to chew the fruit, while a slender elven finger scraped the cream off of my nose, then deposited it in my mouth.
"Would you care for some breakfast before you go to lunch?" my lover inquired ever so politely, . "I should hate for you to be late due to languishing for lack of food." Seeing the barely repressed smirk upon his face, I narrowed my eyes and looked at the tray that sat on his lap, searching for cream or syrup to be used in a retaliatory manner, but was diverted by the presence of...
"Leafcakes! How did you get leafcakes here? Surely your sister did not cook them?"
"I think that my sister had more important things to do this morning, my eternally hungry one. These were prepared for the wedding breakfast, which you and I have both obviously missed. Scandalous creatures that we are, I prevailed upon the worthy Lady Felith to bring us some." His mood was much improved this morning from the night before, but his smug air evaporated as, having learned the trick of it, I swiftly prepared two leafcakes for myself with strawberries inside, and devoured them in three neat bites apiece.
"Leave some for me, Snowsteel! Unlike you, I do not have the prospect of lunch with a long-lost relative to sustain me!"
"You could have gone to the breakfast. And I am sure that you can get Felith to bring you lunch--she thinks you are very beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Prince Imrahil." I rolled out of bed just in time to avoid the napkin that was hurled at my head, and made my way whistling into the bathroom. A quick washing up, then I returned to select my clothing for this important meeting. The elven clothing from Lorien had been hung neatly in my wardrobe, courtesy of Felith, and I stroked the silver-grey outfit thoughtfully, then shook my head with regret.
"It would be a bit cheeky, don't you think, wearing grey for a member of the Grey Company?"
"A little, perhaps," Elrohir agreed. "You could wear the pale yellow, and be a giant, comely buttercup." I glared at him, but he gave me an earnest look. "I like you in the yellow. Truly."
"It's awfully fancy. All of the elven clothes are. We're going for a ride, and it is hot outside--I think I will just dress like I normally would." So I put on a pair of breeches, and a shirt and light tunic in a shade of green-brown, and my old, battered Ranger boots. I belted my sword on out of habit, ran a brush through my hair, and was ready to face the day. Turning back to look at my lover, I found that he had resumed his breakfast, and seemed disinclined to do anything more than recline in bed and complete it.
"What are you going to do today?"
"Oh, I shall rise eventually, and go forth and be social for Arwen's sake. But I'll return for you by sunset." My face fell as he reminded me of what was going to happen that night, and I felt a sudden sense of comforting warmth.
*The worst that can happen, Snowsteel, is that my father will be unable to do anything for you, and nothing will change.*
"That is true," I said aloud. "When you put it that way, I am foolish to be frightened."
"Not foolish," he replied. "You simply have a soldier's reflexes--you hate to be in the hands of the healers." I chuckled.
"There is some truth to that--though most soldiers would say that they would rather be in a healer's hands when they needed care than to have none at all." He nodded at that, leisurely prepared another leaf cake for himself, and devoured it with much obvious and suggestive licking of the lips afterward. I smiled and shook my head.
"If I linger for any more dalliance with you, I'll be late."
He nodded his understanding, while simultaneously giving me elf-puppy eyes. I laughed and departed.
Coming out of the Citadel, I met Faramir, who was apparently returning from the wedding breakfast. He was nicely dressed in another suit of Ithilien green, and reasonably well-combed for a change. I wondered if his uncle had taken him in hand again.
"Heth!" he said with a smile. "Are you free? We never got the chance to talk about your journey." I gave him an apologetic grin..
"I fear that I am the one who is occupied today. I wish I could, my lord, but I am to meet my grandfather for lunch at noon."
"Your grandfather?" he asked, very much surprised.
"Aye. Lord Litharel, with the Grey Company? He is my mother's father. I just found out yesterday." Faramir pondered that for a moment.
"I wondered why it was that Aragorn commanded me to talk to him, and to answer any questions he had about you! I thought that it might be some sort of Northern Ranger business connected with your father. I never considered that he might be family, though now that I think of it, the possibility was obvious. So you have living kin still, Hethlin? That is marvelous!"
I grinned. "Aye! A grandfather, and grandmother, two uncles and aunts, and all sorts of cousins! Of course they all live up North, and Valar know when I'll get to meet them, but it's nice to know they are there nonetheless." His brow furrowed.
"If you have family in the North, I wonder if the King truly does you a service, commanding you to go with Uncle for two years. Many of the other Rangers are returning to their homes. You served as long and as well as most of them. It seems unfair to keep you from your kin."
"Ah, but how would I ever get there, Faramir? Even with the Dark Lord's defeat, that is still a long and perilous journey, and not one lightly undertaken alone."
"There is an opportunity for you in the near future, Heth. When we return Theoden King to his home, the Grey Company and the folk of Imladris and Lorien will accompany us, and then proceed from there to their respective homes. You could go on with them then if you wished."
"Aye, and you would be free of your troublesome charge at last!" I said lightly. I meant it as a jest, but Faramir looked genuinely taken aback.
"I never meant it that way! I just thought.....you seemed so excited just now at having found your family again....and we both know what it is to lose most of the people you love....I was simply trying to think of a way you might be able to do this if you wished."
For a brief moment, I wondered if his discomfort was due to the fact that I'd struck a little too close to the mark with my jest. After all, to a man who was about to be betrothed to a Rohirric princess, the continued presence at court of a woman who had declared herself in love with him, but whose affections he did not return, had to be something of an embarrassment. But when I looked him hard in the eye, I could find nothing but real distress that I would take what he said the wrong way--and a warmth that, if it were not the passion that I wished for, was at least very far from indifference.
"It is all right, my lord! I know what you truly meant." He gave me a rather sheepish smile.
"We keep missing each other. We must make some time to sit and talk as we used to. It is strange, is it not, that it seems harder to meet with friends in peacetime than it was during the war? Between the arrangements for the King's wedding, and Mablung's, I've hardly had the time to turn about!"
I stared at him for a moment in shock. "Mablung is getting married? He never told me."
Faramir looked at my face, saw my surprise, and spoke reassuringly. "He intended to invite you, of course. You've simply not been around. I do not think he will be wroth with me for telling you, though I am sure he would have preferred to do it himself. It is seven days hence. Every Ranger who is not in the field will be there. He had talked of setting up tents down on the Pelennor, but then the King said that it should be done here, in the Court of the Fountain, as Mablung is one of his most important captains." He gave me a grin then that was, for sober Faramir, almost wicked. "I think that perhaps the King is trying to mend his fences with the Rangers of Ithilien. He's helping with the food as well."
"Will the King officiate, then?" I asked curiously. My lord Steward shook his head.
"No, that falls to me, by Mablung's request. And I'm terrified! I've never married anyone before."
Thinking about what his uncle had said about his duties, I grinned.
"I am sure that you'll do just fine. Look at it this way--it is a far more pleasant duty than saying the last words over people." Faramir nodded, somber again for a moment.
"There's certainly truth in that!"
"Besides, you're a Prince now," I declared airily. "Judging from what Prince Imrahil says, you'll be marrying people all the time. All your White Company men will expect it. And your Rangers. And your more important subjects. Why, I imagine that every Spring you'll be hard pressed to get everything done, what with getting the crops out and getting all your subjects wed so they can plow and plant each other as well!"
"Heth! The things you say sometimes!" he protested, though he was smiling once more. "Plowing and planting indeed! The old adage is right, it would seem."
"Which adage is that? Between you and your uncle, I feel we must have covered them all by now." He laughed.
"The one about taking the girl off of the farm, but not being able to take the farm out of the girl."
I snorted. "Well, if it is true, then your uncle is going to waste a lot of time trying! So--who is this lady Mablung is marrying? Judging from the clothes he was wearing at the awards court, she embroiders well, but I know nothing else about her."
Faramir seemed pleased that he had the information at hand. "Her name is Delyth, and her family are saddlers and leatherworkers. They originally hail from Rohan, but her grandfather moved here about the time my father became Steward. He figured, and rightly so, that the conflict with Mordor would mean much work for leatherworkers. His family acquired some army contracts, and they are quite well-to-do now. They also do fine leatherwork--I believe Uncle's saddle is one of their making." I whistled at that, for I really admired the Prince's saddle, which was finely tooled with a swan and wave design, and decorated with quite a bit of silver.
"But what's she LIKE?" I asked impatiently after a moment. Faramir chuckled.
"She seems very nice, Hethlin. Pretty enough, and young enough. She has unusual hair--sort of sunset-colored."
"Pink?" I asked dubiously.
Faramir laughed. "That's what I get for trying to be poetical, I see! No, I meant more of an orange-gold color. Red and blonde commingled. And it is curly. Very unusual. She is also a very strong-minded young woman. More than strong enough to keep Mablung in hand, to my mind."
"Will he be happy, do you think?" He shrugged.
"I am the last person to ask about that, having no experience of marriage yet myself. But I have seen them together, and they do seem to get along well."
"I am behind the times, it would seem." A stewardly finger wagged at me.
"Only in this. Remember, you knew about the Queen before almost everybody else! One cannot be the first to know about everything, though my father certainly spent a lot of time trying." I gave him a surprised look, for it was the first time I'd heard him mention his father so casually since Lord Denethor's death. But he did not seem to notice, casting a quick glance skyward.
"I am keeping you from your meeting. Promise me you'll find some time for me in the next few days?" He grinned beguilingly, and I felt my heart do its usual quick thump. "If for no other reason than that I am holding your back pay! Which is a not inconsiderable amount."
I hadn't even thought about it, since most of my needs had been provided for. "That would come in handy, wouldn't it? I need to get a wedding gift for Mablung. Something nice." I'd never really shopped for anyone before and the prospect was both intimidating and pleasing.
"Just stop by my office when you want it," he explained. "If I am not there, my secretary will have orders to give it to you." I thanked him, we clasped hands, then I pelted off to the Dol Amroth stables, where I found that Fortune was glossy and groomed and well-rested, and that someone had very kindly cleaned and oiled my tack. I saddled him swiftly, then led him to the courier stables, where I found my grandfather standing with a tall grey horse. Fortune gave greeting as we approached, and I realized Grandfather's mount was a mare.
"Behave yourself!" I chided him, and unrepentant, he bugled again. I gave him a swift knee to the belly, partly for punishment, and partly because he was known to suck air every now and again, tightened my girth and swung aboard. Grandfather followed suit.
"He's a handsome fellow, Hethlin," he said, indicating Fortune, who was dancing a bit.
"The Prince gifted him to me after the retreat," I answered. "Would you like to ride first, or eat first, Grandfather?"
"Did you get breakfast?" he asked in his turn. I shrugged.
"Not really. But I've not been awake that long either." He smiled.
"Busy night?"
I sucked in a breath and thought very hard about not turning pink. "No. Not particularly."
He chuckled. "Let's eat first. Do you know of a place? It needn't be anything fancy."
"There's the Red Dog. It's a tavern I used to eat at a lot when I was doing Guard shifts for Lord Hurin. The food is good, but plain. The beer is better." Litharel nodded decisively.
"That sounds good." We urged our horses out of the courier yard, and began to take the winding way down to the lower levels. The level of traffic had increased greatly in the short time I had been gone, and people were moving into some of the houses that had been abandoned. I noticed that some of the older, more run-down quarters were being demolished, by order of the Steward, according to one sign I saw. These changes, which Litharel had been privy to while I had not, served as a subject of conversation all the way to the tavern.
There, by virtue of my long acquaintance, we were allowed to tether our horses in the small back yard. Most of the Red Dog's patrons arrived upon their own two feet. Or at least I thought the privilege was due to me--till we entered by the kitchen door and Eiris the cook wiped her floury hands upon her apron and exclaimed in pleasure at the presence of my grandfather.
At my meaningful look, he shrugged, smiling. "I like their meat pies. Aragorn recommended the place to me." I stifled a grin.
"No meat pies on the menu today, Lord Litharel," the cook declared. "But we have cold roast chicken, and pickled vegetables to go with it. New-baked bread and fresh-churned butter too."
"That sounds lovely, Eiris--set us up with some of your excellent beer as well. Hethlin and I will be in the common room."
"I didn't know you knew Hethlin. She's a good customer--and a good bouncer, at need."
Grandfather smiled. "Aye, I imagine that she is. She is also my granddaughter." Eiris' eyes widened.
"You don't say! And you from so far up North! What folk say is true--it's a small kingdom, when all is said and done!"
"Indeed." And we passed out of the kitchen into the tavern room, where we were greeted by Traghan, the tavern keep. To my amusement, he showed us to the table in the corner, where we could put our backs to the wall. This time I did grin at Litharel, who was unapologetic.
"Old habits die hard, and this is a good one to keep in any event." The beer arrived, and we sipped slowly, waiting for the food. My grandfather gave me a serious look.
"Hethlin, at some time in the future, I will wish to have you tell me what happened to your family, but not today. I daresay you have enough on your mind with what will occur this evening, and I would like our first day together to be a happy one. So--what would you like to talk about?"
"I should like to know about your family....I mean our family--my family up North." He nodded.
"Fair enough."
I laughed many times in the next hour, as he told tales of the sometimes not-so-derring-do of my uncles and aunts and cousins and grandmother. I discovered that dour and sober as they seemed, the Northern Dunedain possessed a sense of humor--it was just a very dry and dark one, as might be expected from the grim sort of life they led. And he gave me much information about that as well--the chill of the climate, the solitary beauty of the Wild, the constant danger that lay behind every tree and rock.
In his turn, he wanted to know of my life as a Ranger of Ithilien, and though I do not think of myself as a great teller of tales, he too laughed as I spoke of my friends among the Rangers, and of how it had been to patrol the very fences of Mordor itself.
The food was excellent, as was the beer, and we passed a very enjoyable couple of hours talking before we decided to finally get up and go for our ride. Litharel paid the bill, despite my objections, and before long, we were mounted and riding forth slowly in the heat of the afternoon sun. We had taken the Causeway Road more or less by accident , and were someway down it when I saw the hill in the distance and drew rein instinctively. Grandfather looked at me curiously.
"Hethlin, are you well?" I stared at the hill, which was in truth not particularly impressive, and seemed rather innocuous in the afternoon light, and began to shiver despite the heat. "Lass, whatever is the matter?"
"We should not have come this way," I muttered. "That is the place he called me to."
"Who--" my uncle started to say, then understanding dawned. "We can turn about, Hethlin," he coaxed softly. "Come, we'll go back towards the City, maybe down towards the Harlond."
I shook my head slowly. "No, let's go on for a bit." He looked at me intently for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well. But if you change your mind, let me know." Starting forward once more, we proceeded silently at a walk. Fortune, sensing my unease, began to jerk his head and mouth the bit. The hill grew larger and larger till it seemed to loom out of all proportion to its size, as we drew rein at the foot.
I sat and studied it for a time, my eyes traveling up to the crest, and then back down to where the beast had been. The grass was long and green upon it, and there was no obvious sign that evil had ever walked there. My grandfather was silent.
"Will you hold Fortune for me, Grandfather?" I asked.
"Aye, lass." Dismounting, I handed him the reins, and walked forward, retracing the steps I'd made in spirit on that fateful night. The going was rather harder in the flesh, and I was puffing slightly when I reached the top.
There, I looked about, marking approximately where the Witch-King had stood, and I had knelt, and his subordinates had stood by, and then I paced over the area, searching. Close up as I was, there were no signs discernible--even to one who had been trained as a Ranger. The long grass must have grown over them. And it occurred to me that it was silly to think that his being there for such a short time could have marked the place in any fashion--though it was said that ground where his dead beast had been burned was still scorched and bare months later.
As one will wiggle a loose tooth with one's tongue, ignoring the pain because of the instinctive knowledge that things will be better when the tooth is gone, I cast my mind back over what had happened here. And I found that, whether it was because I had shared the tale with others, or for some other reason, it was not as terrifying a recollection as it had been. Here, even upon the very spot he had stood, Anor was shining, and a warm breeze was blowing, and he was utterly destroyed. I looked out in the distance, over the Pelennor, which was gradually being healed of its scars, to where the sun sparkled upon the River, and then closer, to where the banner of the King flew on the topmost turret of the White Tower, and lifted my head and laughed.
Then I turned to go down and rejoin my uncle, and the toe of my boot hit against something hidden in the grass. Curious, I stooped and grubbed it up with my fingers, and froze.
It was the head of a hawk or eagle, and part of one wing, graven in black stone, a fractured fragment of the amulet he had worn at his belt. Fine cracks crazed its surface, and holding it, I was suddenly transported back to the moment I had defied Angmar and it had broken--and the terror and despair that had come afterwards. I stood slowly, shuddering, staring down at it in horror--and then the memory came to me of the other feeling I had had at that moment, of a great burden I'd never known I carried being set down at last. And with that, the horrible frightened feeling went away, and I reflected upon the old adage about evil acts often having good ends--for had I not been swept to the Grey Lands, I might never had met Elrohir. I curled my hand about the fragment, for I deemed it harmless enough, and went down to my grandfather.
Litharel had dismounted, and was busy trying to keep Fortune from flirting with his mare, who was not in season, and was not amused. He turned the stallion's reins over to me with a sigh of relief, then gave me a curious, concerned stare.
"I found this up there," I told him, and handed him the fragment. He turned it over in his hand, frowning a little as he examined it.
"What is it?" he asked. I explained, and for a moment he looked as if he were considering tossing it to the ground, but after some intense scrutiny, handed it back to me. "There is no evil left in it that I can feel."
"Can you really tell? Do all Northern Rangers know how to do that?" I was intrigued.
"Most of us have some sort of sense for it," he replied. "You do as well, or you would not have handled the amulet so casually."
"Do you think it is safe to keep it?" His expression grew distant for a moment, his eyes sad, and I was wondering if he were remembering all the friends and comrades in arms he had lost over the years. Then he shook himself a bit.
"I think that you should keep it," Litharel, Ranger of the North, said, "as a reminder that resisting evil, no matter how futile it may seem in the short-term, is never in vain. Your ancestors spent their lives trying to redeem the sins of their forefather. They fought hard, had to endure the disdain and suspicion of their kin and died young more often than not. Many times they must have thought it was all in vain, but perhaps it was not so. Perhaps all of their sacrifices weakened the curse, till the day came when you could end it and free them." He smiled somberly at me, and mounted his mare. "I think they would have been proud of you and I know that your father and your mother would have been as well." I bowed my head, blinked for a moment against sudden tears, and nodded.
"Thank you, Grandfather." Then I tucked the eagle head into my belt pouch, and got on Fortune. Grandfather clicked to his mare and urged her south, towards the Harlond. Fortune, not wanting to lose sight of his ladylove, followed.
We did not speak, riding in contemplative thought, for a long time after that. Eventually, I broke the silence.
"Do you know, I have been thinking about something. It is curious, is it not? I am a woman, and I was the one able to break the Witch-King's curse on my family, and Eowyn is a woman and was able to destroy him when no one else could."
"Oh, I don't think that curious at all," said my grandfather with a straight face. "In fact, it is the one thing about all of this that I understand completely. Angmar was just another one of those gentlemen who have no luck with women." I stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then both of us started laughing at the same time.
"What I have wondered," he said after the hilarity had died down, "is if at least part of your father's reason for moving south wasn't to force the issue with Angmar. He always felt your family's estrangement from the other Dunedain most keenly, and it may have been that he hoped by moving so close to Minas Morgul, he would tempt the Witch-King into calling him, thereby giving Halaran the opportunity to end the curse."
I considered that. "If that was his intention, he never told me. In fact, I did not know anything about the Witch-king and my ancestor until he called me. And though I had asked Father why it was he moved south, he would never tell me, or permit Mother to do so. The King had to give me the details." Litharel's brow furrowed.
"When the idea occurred to me, I cursed your father for taking Liraniel into harm's way, and my daughter for being blind enough to follow him," he admitted. "But I must admit that if that were his intention, it succeeded--though not in the way he would have anticipated."
"I cannot believe that my father would have intentionally endangered my mother in any way!" I exclaimed with some heat, but Grandfather remained calm.
"I don't think you truly understand yet what life is like for us up North, Hethlin," he said. "Our women are expected to be able to take care of themselves, for many of the menfolk are often abroad. I am not saying that every woman is a Ranger--far from it, or even that all of them can fight. But a fair number are proficient with sword, bow or knife, so that they may defend their homes and children if trouble comes while the men are absent. And it does come, fairly frequently. Women have been killed in battle. So Halaran might very well have considered it worth the risk. Or not even that risky, as we count such things. And Liraniel may have agreed."
"If that is the case, Grandfather, then it would seem to me you have no cause to complain," I said, still irritated upon my father's behalf. Then, not wanting to get into an argument with him when we were just beginning to enjoy each other's company, I changed the subject. "It would also seem that I would not be the freakish creature up there that I am here."
"And who exactly believes you to be a freak?" he inquired, his hostility and attention diverted from my father towards my unknown oppressors, as I had hoped. So I told him of my array of favor-seeking suitors at the wedding. He grimaced.
"If you truly are seeking a husband, Hethlin, though as a rule our women do not seriously start searching until they are thirty, I could easily find you at least five young men of excellent breeding to choose from, who would gladly pay court to you because you are a Ranger, not in spite of it. Who would appreciate your accomplishments for what they are, and not think you any less the woman because of them."
Wistfully, I considered this prospect. "Five young men, you say?"
"Five young men that I can think of off the top of my head, that I know personally, and can vouch for. There are plenty of others, equally worthy."
"And they would not mind that I was scarred?"
"There's not a one of us who isn't."
"Would I have to lay down my sword if I were to wed?"
"That would be between you and your husband. I will not lie to you--woman Rangers are uncommon, particularly ones that stay in the field for a long time. What is more common are the women who join us for a period of time, for vengeance, or for a son or husband who is unable to serve. And as a rule, they don't walk the Wild when bearing children. But aside from that, no one among the Dunedain thinks anything the less about a woman who is a Ranger."
"It sounds as if I'm in the wrong place entirely."
"Yes it does, doesn't it?" my grandfather agreed gently. "And you know without my telling you what the Eagles would want." Lost in thought, I said nothing for a long time after that.
We parted as Anor was dropping into the West. He kept me company as I unsaddled and groomed Fortune, then I did the same as he took care of his mare. We had chatted companionably about many different things during the rest of our ride, but most particularly about his journey with the King on the Paths of the Dead, which I found eerily fascinating, especially his account of the Dead attacking the Corsairs at Pelargir. We parted company at the door of the Citadel. He hugged me gently, after first giving me a look to determine if I would suffer such an embrace, and I returned it gladly.
"Be well, granddaughter," he said softly, and I promised that I would. I made my way slowly up to my room, and opened the door. Elrohir awaited me inside, though no one else had arrived, and nothing looked to have been changed in preparation for Lord Elrond's administrations. He was reading one of the books Faramir had lent me, but laid it aside upon my entrance. A sudden queasy feeling washed over me, followed promptly by a surge of calming reassurance from him.
"Good evening, Snowsteel," he said quietly, then got up, moved to my wardrobe and reached within to pull forth one of my as yet unused night shifts. "Go ahead and put this on, then come back out, and I'll tuck you in bed." I wrinkled my nose at him, and he laughed softly, and tossed the gown to me.
Going into the bathing room, I stripped and got into the night shift, wondering why it was I felt so naked. After all, it wasn't as if Elrohir had not seen me without clothes upon any number of occasions. Though he hadn't said to, I took a quick cat-bath with the water in the basin, brushed my teeth and combed my hair, not wanting to appear less than clean and tidy, even when unconscious, in front of Lord Elrond.
When I came back out, Elrohir had turned the bed down for me and was pouring some liquid from a crystal flask into a small crystal cup. He looked up and smiled. "I thought you would look nice in that," he said, and I was belatedly reminded of who had selected most of my recent wardrobe. "Go on, get into bed," he urged, and when I had done so, he handed me the delicate little cup.
"Drink it all--you will find it pleasant enough, I think." I did so, and found it had a nice minty taste, though it burned its way down my throat to my belly with warm potency.
"You didn't eat after lunch, did you?" he asked, and I shook my head.
"What happens now?" I inquired, my throat tight as I settled back against the pillows. Elrohir pulled up the coverlet and tucked it about me.
"Now you get sleepy, and I stay with you while you fall asleep."
"You couldn't just make me sleep yourself?" His slender hand rose to stroke my face gently.
"What I can do would not suffice by itself. You need to be deeper than that. The medicine I just gave you will help you achieve that state." I did not understand what he meant, was not sure I wanted to, and was beginning to feel too sleepy to care. I yawned.
"That stuff works fast." He smiled.
"Yes, it does." His one hand continued to stroke my face and hair, while the other clasped my hand gently. I found his touch very soothing. The door opened softly, and I saw Lord Elrond enter, accompanied, to my surprise, by Lord Celeborn, and some servitor elves who were bringing in chests and sheets and other things that might have caused me great anxiety had I been more awake. But I was already sinking into darkness when the Lord of Lorien glided over and touched my forehead with a finger.
"Good night, Hethlin. Sleep deep and peacefully," he murmured, and I knew no more.
A strawberry dangled suddenly before my eyes, and a dollop of cream dripped upon my nose. I yelped in surprise, and when my mouth opened, the berry was dropped in. Pushing up on my left elbow, I began to chew the fruit, while a slender elven finger scraped the cream off of my nose, then deposited it in my mouth.
"Would you care for some breakfast before you go to lunch?" my lover inquired ever so politely, . "I should hate for you to be late due to languishing for lack of food." Seeing the barely repressed smirk upon his face, I narrowed my eyes and looked at the tray that sat on his lap, searching for cream or syrup to be used in a retaliatory manner, but was diverted by the presence of...
"Leafcakes! How did you get leafcakes here? Surely your sister did not cook them?"
"I think that my sister had more important things to do this morning, my eternally hungry one. These were prepared for the wedding breakfast, which you and I have both obviously missed. Scandalous creatures that we are, I prevailed upon the worthy Lady Felith to bring us some." His mood was much improved this morning from the night before, but his smug air evaporated as, having learned the trick of it, I swiftly prepared two leafcakes for myself with strawberries inside, and devoured them in three neat bites apiece.
"Leave some for me, Snowsteel! Unlike you, I do not have the prospect of lunch with a long-lost relative to sustain me!"
"You could have gone to the breakfast. And I am sure that you can get Felith to bring you lunch--she thinks you are very beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Prince Imrahil." I rolled out of bed just in time to avoid the napkin that was hurled at my head, and made my way whistling into the bathroom. A quick washing up, then I returned to select my clothing for this important meeting. The elven clothing from Lorien had been hung neatly in my wardrobe, courtesy of Felith, and I stroked the silver-grey outfit thoughtfully, then shook my head with regret.
"It would be a bit cheeky, don't you think, wearing grey for a member of the Grey Company?"
"A little, perhaps," Elrohir agreed. "You could wear the pale yellow, and be a giant, comely buttercup." I glared at him, but he gave me an earnest look. "I like you in the yellow. Truly."
"It's awfully fancy. All of the elven clothes are. We're going for a ride, and it is hot outside--I think I will just dress like I normally would." So I put on a pair of breeches, and a shirt and light tunic in a shade of green-brown, and my old, battered Ranger boots. I belted my sword on out of habit, ran a brush through my hair, and was ready to face the day. Turning back to look at my lover, I found that he had resumed his breakfast, and seemed disinclined to do anything more than recline in bed and complete it.
"What are you going to do today?"
"Oh, I shall rise eventually, and go forth and be social for Arwen's sake. But I'll return for you by sunset." My face fell as he reminded me of what was going to happen that night, and I felt a sudden sense of comforting warmth.
*The worst that can happen, Snowsteel, is that my father will be unable to do anything for you, and nothing will change.*
"That is true," I said aloud. "When you put it that way, I am foolish to be frightened."
"Not foolish," he replied. "You simply have a soldier's reflexes--you hate to be in the hands of the healers." I chuckled.
"There is some truth to that--though most soldiers would say that they would rather be in a healer's hands when they needed care than to have none at all." He nodded at that, leisurely prepared another leaf cake for himself, and devoured it with much obvious and suggestive licking of the lips afterward. I smiled and shook my head.
"If I linger for any more dalliance with you, I'll be late."
He nodded his understanding, while simultaneously giving me elf-puppy eyes. I laughed and departed.
Coming out of the Citadel, I met Faramir, who was apparently returning from the wedding breakfast. He was nicely dressed in another suit of Ithilien green, and reasonably well-combed for a change. I wondered if his uncle had taken him in hand again.
"Heth!" he said with a smile. "Are you free? We never got the chance to talk about your journey." I gave him an apologetic grin..
"I fear that I am the one who is occupied today. I wish I could, my lord, but I am to meet my grandfather for lunch at noon."
"Your grandfather?" he asked, very much surprised.
"Aye. Lord Litharel, with the Grey Company? He is my mother's father. I just found out yesterday." Faramir pondered that for a moment.
"I wondered why it was that Aragorn commanded me to talk to him, and to answer any questions he had about you! I thought that it might be some sort of Northern Ranger business connected with your father. I never considered that he might be family, though now that I think of it, the possibility was obvious. So you have living kin still, Hethlin? That is marvelous!"
I grinned. "Aye! A grandfather, and grandmother, two uncles and aunts, and all sorts of cousins! Of course they all live up North, and Valar know when I'll get to meet them, but it's nice to know they are there nonetheless." His brow furrowed.
"If you have family in the North, I wonder if the King truly does you a service, commanding you to go with Uncle for two years. Many of the other Rangers are returning to their homes. You served as long and as well as most of them. It seems unfair to keep you from your kin."
"Ah, but how would I ever get there, Faramir? Even with the Dark Lord's defeat, that is still a long and perilous journey, and not one lightly undertaken alone."
"There is an opportunity for you in the near future, Heth. When we return Theoden King to his home, the Grey Company and the folk of Imladris and Lorien will accompany us, and then proceed from there to their respective homes. You could go on with them then if you wished."
"Aye, and you would be free of your troublesome charge at last!" I said lightly. I meant it as a jest, but Faramir looked genuinely taken aback.
"I never meant it that way! I just thought.....you seemed so excited just now at having found your family again....and we both know what it is to lose most of the people you love....I was simply trying to think of a way you might be able to do this if you wished."
For a brief moment, I wondered if his discomfort was due to the fact that I'd struck a little too close to the mark with my jest. After all, to a man who was about to be betrothed to a Rohirric princess, the continued presence at court of a woman who had declared herself in love with him, but whose affections he did not return, had to be something of an embarrassment. But when I looked him hard in the eye, I could find nothing but real distress that I would take what he said the wrong way--and a warmth that, if it were not the passion that I wished for, was at least very far from indifference.
"It is all right, my lord! I know what you truly meant." He gave me a rather sheepish smile.
"We keep missing each other. We must make some time to sit and talk as we used to. It is strange, is it not, that it seems harder to meet with friends in peacetime than it was during the war? Between the arrangements for the King's wedding, and Mablung's, I've hardly had the time to turn about!"
I stared at him for a moment in shock. "Mablung is getting married? He never told me."
Faramir looked at my face, saw my surprise, and spoke reassuringly. "He intended to invite you, of course. You've simply not been around. I do not think he will be wroth with me for telling you, though I am sure he would have preferred to do it himself. It is seven days hence. Every Ranger who is not in the field will be there. He had talked of setting up tents down on the Pelennor, but then the King said that it should be done here, in the Court of the Fountain, as Mablung is one of his most important captains." He gave me a grin then that was, for sober Faramir, almost wicked. "I think that perhaps the King is trying to mend his fences with the Rangers of Ithilien. He's helping with the food as well."
"Will the King officiate, then?" I asked curiously. My lord Steward shook his head.
"No, that falls to me, by Mablung's request. And I'm terrified! I've never married anyone before."
Thinking about what his uncle had said about his duties, I grinned.
"I am sure that you'll do just fine. Look at it this way--it is a far more pleasant duty than saying the last words over people." Faramir nodded, somber again for a moment.
"There's certainly truth in that!"
"Besides, you're a Prince now," I declared airily. "Judging from what Prince Imrahil says, you'll be marrying people all the time. All your White Company men will expect it. And your Rangers. And your more important subjects. Why, I imagine that every Spring you'll be hard pressed to get everything done, what with getting the crops out and getting all your subjects wed so they can plow and plant each other as well!"
"Heth! The things you say sometimes!" he protested, though he was smiling once more. "Plowing and planting indeed! The old adage is right, it would seem."
"Which adage is that? Between you and your uncle, I feel we must have covered them all by now." He laughed.
"The one about taking the girl off of the farm, but not being able to take the farm out of the girl."
I snorted. "Well, if it is true, then your uncle is going to waste a lot of time trying! So--who is this lady Mablung is marrying? Judging from the clothes he was wearing at the awards court, she embroiders well, but I know nothing else about her."
Faramir seemed pleased that he had the information at hand. "Her name is Delyth, and her family are saddlers and leatherworkers. They originally hail from Rohan, but her grandfather moved here about the time my father became Steward. He figured, and rightly so, that the conflict with Mordor would mean much work for leatherworkers. His family acquired some army contracts, and they are quite well-to-do now. They also do fine leatherwork--I believe Uncle's saddle is one of their making." I whistled at that, for I really admired the Prince's saddle, which was finely tooled with a swan and wave design, and decorated with quite a bit of silver.
"But what's she LIKE?" I asked impatiently after a moment. Faramir chuckled.
"She seems very nice, Hethlin. Pretty enough, and young enough. She has unusual hair--sort of sunset-colored."
"Pink?" I asked dubiously.
Faramir laughed. "That's what I get for trying to be poetical, I see! No, I meant more of an orange-gold color. Red and blonde commingled. And it is curly. Very unusual. She is also a very strong-minded young woman. More than strong enough to keep Mablung in hand, to my mind."
"Will he be happy, do you think?" He shrugged.
"I am the last person to ask about that, having no experience of marriage yet myself. But I have seen them together, and they do seem to get along well."
"I am behind the times, it would seem." A stewardly finger wagged at me.
"Only in this. Remember, you knew about the Queen before almost everybody else! One cannot be the first to know about everything, though my father certainly spent a lot of time trying." I gave him a surprised look, for it was the first time I'd heard him mention his father so casually since Lord Denethor's death. But he did not seem to notice, casting a quick glance skyward.
"I am keeping you from your meeting. Promise me you'll find some time for me in the next few days?" He grinned beguilingly, and I felt my heart do its usual quick thump. "If for no other reason than that I am holding your back pay! Which is a not inconsiderable amount."
I hadn't even thought about it, since most of my needs had been provided for. "That would come in handy, wouldn't it? I need to get a wedding gift for Mablung. Something nice." I'd never really shopped for anyone before and the prospect was both intimidating and pleasing.
"Just stop by my office when you want it," he explained. "If I am not there, my secretary will have orders to give it to you." I thanked him, we clasped hands, then I pelted off to the Dol Amroth stables, where I found that Fortune was glossy and groomed and well-rested, and that someone had very kindly cleaned and oiled my tack. I saddled him swiftly, then led him to the courier stables, where I found my grandfather standing with a tall grey horse. Fortune gave greeting as we approached, and I realized Grandfather's mount was a mare.
"Behave yourself!" I chided him, and unrepentant, he bugled again. I gave him a swift knee to the belly, partly for punishment, and partly because he was known to suck air every now and again, tightened my girth and swung aboard. Grandfather followed suit.
"He's a handsome fellow, Hethlin," he said, indicating Fortune, who was dancing a bit.
"The Prince gifted him to me after the retreat," I answered. "Would you like to ride first, or eat first, Grandfather?"
"Did you get breakfast?" he asked in his turn. I shrugged.
"Not really. But I've not been awake that long either." He smiled.
"Busy night?"
I sucked in a breath and thought very hard about not turning pink. "No. Not particularly."
He chuckled. "Let's eat first. Do you know of a place? It needn't be anything fancy."
"There's the Red Dog. It's a tavern I used to eat at a lot when I was doing Guard shifts for Lord Hurin. The food is good, but plain. The beer is better." Litharel nodded decisively.
"That sounds good." We urged our horses out of the courier yard, and began to take the winding way down to the lower levels. The level of traffic had increased greatly in the short time I had been gone, and people were moving into some of the houses that had been abandoned. I noticed that some of the older, more run-down quarters were being demolished, by order of the Steward, according to one sign I saw. These changes, which Litharel had been privy to while I had not, served as a subject of conversation all the way to the tavern.
There, by virtue of my long acquaintance, we were allowed to tether our horses in the small back yard. Most of the Red Dog's patrons arrived upon their own two feet. Or at least I thought the privilege was due to me--till we entered by the kitchen door and Eiris the cook wiped her floury hands upon her apron and exclaimed in pleasure at the presence of my grandfather.
At my meaningful look, he shrugged, smiling. "I like their meat pies. Aragorn recommended the place to me." I stifled a grin.
"No meat pies on the menu today, Lord Litharel," the cook declared. "But we have cold roast chicken, and pickled vegetables to go with it. New-baked bread and fresh-churned butter too."
"That sounds lovely, Eiris--set us up with some of your excellent beer as well. Hethlin and I will be in the common room."
"I didn't know you knew Hethlin. She's a good customer--and a good bouncer, at need."
Grandfather smiled. "Aye, I imagine that she is. She is also my granddaughter." Eiris' eyes widened.
"You don't say! And you from so far up North! What folk say is true--it's a small kingdom, when all is said and done!"
"Indeed." And we passed out of the kitchen into the tavern room, where we were greeted by Traghan, the tavern keep. To my amusement, he showed us to the table in the corner, where we could put our backs to the wall. This time I did grin at Litharel, who was unapologetic.
"Old habits die hard, and this is a good one to keep in any event." The beer arrived, and we sipped slowly, waiting for the food. My grandfather gave me a serious look.
"Hethlin, at some time in the future, I will wish to have you tell me what happened to your family, but not today. I daresay you have enough on your mind with what will occur this evening, and I would like our first day together to be a happy one. So--what would you like to talk about?"
"I should like to know about your family....I mean our family--my family up North." He nodded.
"Fair enough."
I laughed many times in the next hour, as he told tales of the sometimes not-so-derring-do of my uncles and aunts and cousins and grandmother. I discovered that dour and sober as they seemed, the Northern Dunedain possessed a sense of humor--it was just a very dry and dark one, as might be expected from the grim sort of life they led. And he gave me much information about that as well--the chill of the climate, the solitary beauty of the Wild, the constant danger that lay behind every tree and rock.
In his turn, he wanted to know of my life as a Ranger of Ithilien, and though I do not think of myself as a great teller of tales, he too laughed as I spoke of my friends among the Rangers, and of how it had been to patrol the very fences of Mordor itself.
The food was excellent, as was the beer, and we passed a very enjoyable couple of hours talking before we decided to finally get up and go for our ride. Litharel paid the bill, despite my objections, and before long, we were mounted and riding forth slowly in the heat of the afternoon sun. We had taken the Causeway Road more or less by accident , and were someway down it when I saw the hill in the distance and drew rein instinctively. Grandfather looked at me curiously.
"Hethlin, are you well?" I stared at the hill, which was in truth not particularly impressive, and seemed rather innocuous in the afternoon light, and began to shiver despite the heat. "Lass, whatever is the matter?"
"We should not have come this way," I muttered. "That is the place he called me to."
"Who--" my uncle started to say, then understanding dawned. "We can turn about, Hethlin," he coaxed softly. "Come, we'll go back towards the City, maybe down towards the Harlond."
I shook my head slowly. "No, let's go on for a bit." He looked at me intently for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well. But if you change your mind, let me know." Starting forward once more, we proceeded silently at a walk. Fortune, sensing my unease, began to jerk his head and mouth the bit. The hill grew larger and larger till it seemed to loom out of all proportion to its size, as we drew rein at the foot.
I sat and studied it for a time, my eyes traveling up to the crest, and then back down to where the beast had been. The grass was long and green upon it, and there was no obvious sign that evil had ever walked there. My grandfather was silent.
"Will you hold Fortune for me, Grandfather?" I asked.
"Aye, lass." Dismounting, I handed him the reins, and walked forward, retracing the steps I'd made in spirit on that fateful night. The going was rather harder in the flesh, and I was puffing slightly when I reached the top.
There, I looked about, marking approximately where the Witch-King had stood, and I had knelt, and his subordinates had stood by, and then I paced over the area, searching. Close up as I was, there were no signs discernible--even to one who had been trained as a Ranger. The long grass must have grown over them. And it occurred to me that it was silly to think that his being there for such a short time could have marked the place in any fashion--though it was said that ground where his dead beast had been burned was still scorched and bare months later.
As one will wiggle a loose tooth with one's tongue, ignoring the pain because of the instinctive knowledge that things will be better when the tooth is gone, I cast my mind back over what had happened here. And I found that, whether it was because I had shared the tale with others, or for some other reason, it was not as terrifying a recollection as it had been. Here, even upon the very spot he had stood, Anor was shining, and a warm breeze was blowing, and he was utterly destroyed. I looked out in the distance, over the Pelennor, which was gradually being healed of its scars, to where the sun sparkled upon the River, and then closer, to where the banner of the King flew on the topmost turret of the White Tower, and lifted my head and laughed.
Then I turned to go down and rejoin my uncle, and the toe of my boot hit against something hidden in the grass. Curious, I stooped and grubbed it up with my fingers, and froze.
It was the head of a hawk or eagle, and part of one wing, graven in black stone, a fractured fragment of the amulet he had worn at his belt. Fine cracks crazed its surface, and holding it, I was suddenly transported back to the moment I had defied Angmar and it had broken--and the terror and despair that had come afterwards. I stood slowly, shuddering, staring down at it in horror--and then the memory came to me of the other feeling I had had at that moment, of a great burden I'd never known I carried being set down at last. And with that, the horrible frightened feeling went away, and I reflected upon the old adage about evil acts often having good ends--for had I not been swept to the Grey Lands, I might never had met Elrohir. I curled my hand about the fragment, for I deemed it harmless enough, and went down to my grandfather.
Litharel had dismounted, and was busy trying to keep Fortune from flirting with his mare, who was not in season, and was not amused. He turned the stallion's reins over to me with a sigh of relief, then gave me a curious, concerned stare.
"I found this up there," I told him, and handed him the fragment. He turned it over in his hand, frowning a little as he examined it.
"What is it?" he asked. I explained, and for a moment he looked as if he were considering tossing it to the ground, but after some intense scrutiny, handed it back to me. "There is no evil left in it that I can feel."
"Can you really tell? Do all Northern Rangers know how to do that?" I was intrigued.
"Most of us have some sort of sense for it," he replied. "You do as well, or you would not have handled the amulet so casually."
"Do you think it is safe to keep it?" His expression grew distant for a moment, his eyes sad, and I was wondering if he were remembering all the friends and comrades in arms he had lost over the years. Then he shook himself a bit.
"I think that you should keep it," Litharel, Ranger of the North, said, "as a reminder that resisting evil, no matter how futile it may seem in the short-term, is never in vain. Your ancestors spent their lives trying to redeem the sins of their forefather. They fought hard, had to endure the disdain and suspicion of their kin and died young more often than not. Many times they must have thought it was all in vain, but perhaps it was not so. Perhaps all of their sacrifices weakened the curse, till the day came when you could end it and free them." He smiled somberly at me, and mounted his mare. "I think they would have been proud of you and I know that your father and your mother would have been as well." I bowed my head, blinked for a moment against sudden tears, and nodded.
"Thank you, Grandfather." Then I tucked the eagle head into my belt pouch, and got on Fortune. Grandfather clicked to his mare and urged her south, towards the Harlond. Fortune, not wanting to lose sight of his ladylove, followed.
We did not speak, riding in contemplative thought, for a long time after that. Eventually, I broke the silence.
"Do you know, I have been thinking about something. It is curious, is it not? I am a woman, and I was the one able to break the Witch-King's curse on my family, and Eowyn is a woman and was able to destroy him when no one else could."
"Oh, I don't think that curious at all," said my grandfather with a straight face. "In fact, it is the one thing about all of this that I understand completely. Angmar was just another one of those gentlemen who have no luck with women." I stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then both of us started laughing at the same time.
"What I have wondered," he said after the hilarity had died down, "is if at least part of your father's reason for moving south wasn't to force the issue with Angmar. He always felt your family's estrangement from the other Dunedain most keenly, and it may have been that he hoped by moving so close to Minas Morgul, he would tempt the Witch-King into calling him, thereby giving Halaran the opportunity to end the curse."
I considered that. "If that was his intention, he never told me. In fact, I did not know anything about the Witch-king and my ancestor until he called me. And though I had asked Father why it was he moved south, he would never tell me, or permit Mother to do so. The King had to give me the details." Litharel's brow furrowed.
"When the idea occurred to me, I cursed your father for taking Liraniel into harm's way, and my daughter for being blind enough to follow him," he admitted. "But I must admit that if that were his intention, it succeeded--though not in the way he would have anticipated."
"I cannot believe that my father would have intentionally endangered my mother in any way!" I exclaimed with some heat, but Grandfather remained calm.
"I don't think you truly understand yet what life is like for us up North, Hethlin," he said. "Our women are expected to be able to take care of themselves, for many of the menfolk are often abroad. I am not saying that every woman is a Ranger--far from it, or even that all of them can fight. But a fair number are proficient with sword, bow or knife, so that they may defend their homes and children if trouble comes while the men are absent. And it does come, fairly frequently. Women have been killed in battle. So Halaran might very well have considered it worth the risk. Or not even that risky, as we count such things. And Liraniel may have agreed."
"If that is the case, Grandfather, then it would seem to me you have no cause to complain," I said, still irritated upon my father's behalf. Then, not wanting to get into an argument with him when we were just beginning to enjoy each other's company, I changed the subject. "It would also seem that I would not be the freakish creature up there that I am here."
"And who exactly believes you to be a freak?" he inquired, his hostility and attention diverted from my father towards my unknown oppressors, as I had hoped. So I told him of my array of favor-seeking suitors at the wedding. He grimaced.
"If you truly are seeking a husband, Hethlin, though as a rule our women do not seriously start searching until they are thirty, I could easily find you at least five young men of excellent breeding to choose from, who would gladly pay court to you because you are a Ranger, not in spite of it. Who would appreciate your accomplishments for what they are, and not think you any less the woman because of them."
Wistfully, I considered this prospect. "Five young men, you say?"
"Five young men that I can think of off the top of my head, that I know personally, and can vouch for. There are plenty of others, equally worthy."
"And they would not mind that I was scarred?"
"There's not a one of us who isn't."
"Would I have to lay down my sword if I were to wed?"
"That would be between you and your husband. I will not lie to you--woman Rangers are uncommon, particularly ones that stay in the field for a long time. What is more common are the women who join us for a period of time, for vengeance, or for a son or husband who is unable to serve. And as a rule, they don't walk the Wild when bearing children. But aside from that, no one among the Dunedain thinks anything the less about a woman who is a Ranger."
"It sounds as if I'm in the wrong place entirely."
"Yes it does, doesn't it?" my grandfather agreed gently. "And you know without my telling you what the Eagles would want." Lost in thought, I said nothing for a long time after that.
We parted as Anor was dropping into the West. He kept me company as I unsaddled and groomed Fortune, then I did the same as he took care of his mare. We had chatted companionably about many different things during the rest of our ride, but most particularly about his journey with the King on the Paths of the Dead, which I found eerily fascinating, especially his account of the Dead attacking the Corsairs at Pelargir. We parted company at the door of the Citadel. He hugged me gently, after first giving me a look to determine if I would suffer such an embrace, and I returned it gladly.
"Be well, granddaughter," he said softly, and I promised that I would. I made my way slowly up to my room, and opened the door. Elrohir awaited me inside, though no one else had arrived, and nothing looked to have been changed in preparation for Lord Elrond's administrations. He was reading one of the books Faramir had lent me, but laid it aside upon my entrance. A sudden queasy feeling washed over me, followed promptly by a surge of calming reassurance from him.
"Good evening, Snowsteel," he said quietly, then got up, moved to my wardrobe and reached within to pull forth one of my as yet unused night shifts. "Go ahead and put this on, then come back out, and I'll tuck you in bed." I wrinkled my nose at him, and he laughed softly, and tossed the gown to me.
Going into the bathing room, I stripped and got into the night shift, wondering why it was I felt so naked. After all, it wasn't as if Elrohir had not seen me without clothes upon any number of occasions. Though he hadn't said to, I took a quick cat-bath with the water in the basin, brushed my teeth and combed my hair, not wanting to appear less than clean and tidy, even when unconscious, in front of Lord Elrond.
When I came back out, Elrohir had turned the bed down for me and was pouring some liquid from a crystal flask into a small crystal cup. He looked up and smiled. "I thought you would look nice in that," he said, and I was belatedly reminded of who had selected most of my recent wardrobe. "Go on, get into bed," he urged, and when I had done so, he handed me the delicate little cup.
"Drink it all--you will find it pleasant enough, I think." I did so, and found it had a nice minty taste, though it burned its way down my throat to my belly with warm potency.
"You didn't eat after lunch, did you?" he asked, and I shook my head.
"What happens now?" I inquired, my throat tight as I settled back against the pillows. Elrohir pulled up the coverlet and tucked it about me.
"Now you get sleepy, and I stay with you while you fall asleep."
"You couldn't just make me sleep yourself?" His slender hand rose to stroke my face gently.
"What I can do would not suffice by itself. You need to be deeper than that. The medicine I just gave you will help you achieve that state." I did not understand what he meant, was not sure I wanted to, and was beginning to feel too sleepy to care. I yawned.
"That stuff works fast." He smiled.
"Yes, it does." His one hand continued to stroke my face and hair, while the other clasped my hand gently. I found his touch very soothing. The door opened softly, and I saw Lord Elrond enter, accompanied, to my surprise, by Lord Celeborn, and some servitor elves who were bringing in chests and sheets and other things that might have caused me great anxiety had I been more awake. But I was already sinking into darkness when the Lord of Lorien glided over and touched my forehead with a finger.
"Good night, Hethlin. Sleep deep and peacefully," he murmured, and I knew no more.