Back in Ithilien, Athfaë and Dacil sat hand-in-hand together in the shade of one of the large, pine-like trees. They talked of life, of what the two had done, and of future plans.
When Dacil asked Athfaë what she thought was in her future, she grew suddenly silent, and her eyes began to glisten.
"I fear we are on opposite sides of this war," she choked.
"Why do you say that?"
"I have not been completely honest with you. I am not just an officer in the Venyarohirrim army."
"Yes?" Dacil asked, his usual calm self.
"Well, I am," Athfaë said quickly, somewhat unnerved by Dacil's ease of dealing with a situation he knew nothing of, "But I'm a rather high ranking officer."
"As am I in the Fellowship," Dacil stated matter-of-factly.
"I am the Commander in Chief of the army, Dacil!" Athfaë cried, then burst into tears, burying her face in his chest.
"Athfaë, Athfaë," Dacil said soothingly, stroking her hair, "What is so wrong about this?"
"What is wrong?!" she practically screamed, sitting up with a start. "Everything is wrong! You are glad that we are enemies?"
Dacil merely smiled, "Enemies? Athfaë, I would die before I betrayed you."
"And die you would if you refused to fight! It would be treason!"
"Then fight I shall. But not for them," Dacil said with a bit more emotion in his voice than he usually portrayed.
"What?"
"My men and I stand ready at your command, Athfaë."
Athfaë shook her head slowly, "What on Ea are you talking about? You would give up your rank and possibly life just to fight in my army?"
"I do not care about power! I am loyal to Isen Meares, let alone you, not Belgor. I stayed with the Fellowship because our people were fallen, too blind to fight the Remnant. But now that they have a capable, not to mention beautiful, leader..."
Athfaë squealed with joy, "You would do that?"
"For you? Of course."
She kissed him again.
Aragorn, High King of the men and General of the Dunedain, raced with much indignity down a smooth wooden passageway leading to the forest floor of Lorien.
"Where are they going?" he cried to Gandalf, who stood watching Mordae and Celebdraug disappear into the darkness of the woodland.
"On 'vacation', " he said with a smile, "You'll never catch them now. Don't even try."
"You did this on purpose!" Aragorn raged, "You intentionally made it so I couldn't go with them!"
"Have me executed," wizard said with a shrug, and whistling under his breath, he walked back up the ramp, leaving a fuming king below.
"I should," Aragorn growled as he stalked after his mentor, "In a most terrible and painful way."
At dusk, Elfwine stepped into the clearing where he had left his daughter earlier that day. He stroked the fletching on his arrow absentmindedly as he scanned the perimeter for enemies.
"Athfaë?" he hissed.
A rustling in the brush behind him caused him to whirl and draw back his bow, ready to fight.
"Father?" Athfaë's voice called.
Elfwine lowered his bow at the sound of his daughter. He hurried toward where the voice had come from, and finally found her and Dacil standing together, arms around one another.
"I see you two found one another," Elfwine said with a smile. He looked to Athfaë, "May I?"
Athfaë stepped back as her father embraced Dacil.
"It has been a long time, Dacil. How go things with you?"
"Well. Yourself?"
"These are troublesome times, and my daughter has a mind of her own, which is quite bungled, from what I can tell. All things considered, I am doing well," the older man responded.
"Speaking of your daughter's bungled mind," Dacil said, putting his arm around Athfaë's shoulder, "I believe that we have it all worked out."
"It?"
Dacil grinned, "I am going to be a double-double agent of sorts."
"Ah. I see," Elfwine said with a slight nod, "What?"
The two children laughed mirthfully.
"I will go back to Aragost and tell him that I have contacted Athfaë," Dacil explained, "I will tell him that I want to act as a double agent, pretending to be Athfaë's friend. When in actuality..."
"You will be only pretending to be pretending to be her friend," Elfwine said with a nod.
"When you put it that way, it sounds really complicated," Athfaë whined.
"I will give Aragost the nonsense he deserves, while delivering correct information about Fellowship movements, as they will be assuming I still work for them."
"Genius," Elfwine
murmured with a small shake of his head.
"It was a bit of
collaboration on our parts, but I'll take the credit," Dacil
replied.
Athfaë gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, then rested her head where she had just struck.
Elfwine smiled at the two, then turned his gaze up to the star-filled sky.
"We would best get going," he said, "The sun will set soon, and I for one do not want to be caught in the middle of Ithilien forest with orcs swarming all throughout it."
"Excuse me?" Dacil asked incredulously, "The Fellowship does an excellent job of curtailing orc expeditions."
"Bah," spat Elfwine, "I assume you are in charge of these 'curtailing' operations?"
"But of course," Dacil answered. He leaned down and kissed Athfaë one last time, saluted Elfwine, and with a swirl of his cloak, he headed toward his steed.
Athfaë stood watching him ride off, staring into the trees even after he was out of sight.
She suddenly felt her father's arm around her, holding her tightly.
"You really love him," Elfwine more stated than asked.
Athfaë nodded, looking up into her father's face.
Elfwine shrugged, "At least he didn't kiss me."
