Return No More To The Northlands

Rose G

Disclaimer – All characters are the property of Tolkien; I am making no money from using them.

"Nor Halbarad return no more to the Northlands, dour-handed Ranger." (The Return of the King)

Gondor's bannerman staggered off the Pelannor, the blood soaked ground complaining about having to support his weight. His spurs – forged in Rivendell and presented to him as a consolation by Elrond after the loss of his beloved – stuck in the turf and shortened his stride. The black banner cracked and whistled overhead.

Aragorn swung Roheryan around from the gathering of monarchs and nudged the tired stallion into a trot. 'Halbarad! Halbarad!'

The unmounted Ranger looked up and smiled at the pair, an expression that looked odd on such a pinched, dour face. He stopped and planted the standard in the mud.

'What happened to your horse?'

'She took an Easterling arrow to the neck; I was able to get it out, but not to stop the blood. It was meant for me. How has the fighting gone?'

'Not well; never well when people fall and more have died than I would have liked. For a while, I feared that you were among them. I couldn't see you, or the banner, or even know here you had gone. Are you well?'

'I survive. Others alongside of me did not. As I have never particularly cared for life, I expect that I shall live to see your firstborn son.' A smile touched Halbarad's lips, but not his dark eyes that were overshadowed by grey winged hair.

Aragorn rode up alongside a stray horse whose hooves were tangled in its blood wet reins and led it over to Halbarad. 'Ride him home – you're a long way from home even if you wish to stay in the North.'

Deftly manoeuvring banner, sword and his new horse, Halbarad mounted and spun the chestnut around to face Aragorn. 'I'm not going back to the Northlands – I thought you knew that. The main reason I led them all to Rohan was because I wanted to head South, towards Rivendell, and I wanted to share their company one last time. Forty years – forty fallings of leaves and five horses and so many rulers – that is a long time. I cannot be a vagabond forever. I need to rest now; rest before I sleep.'

Sorrow pieced Aragorn's heart; Halbarad had been advisor, confidante and more during those long years. 'Can we not discuss this later? I have an army to deal with, a count to make, before anything starts rotting.'

Halbarad nodded, and side by side on plodding horses that picked their way over the bodies of Gondor's men, they went back to the troops.

Later that night, the two men crouched by a campfire and watched the dying flames flicker away into the night. 'Halbarad, where are you going?'

'Anywhere where I can wake in the same bed for two mornings together and my food does not depend on a deer crossing my path.'

'Rivendell?'

'I don't think so. Elrond and the others mean to be kind, yet half the time, their words are unthinking. And Elrond; he's suffered loss so it is not fair to remind him of it by me living there. Not fair for me, when he has Valinor and I do not.'

Aragorn nodded his agreement. Elrond had lost Celebrian and Halbarad's Ninael had left the Ranger who had given her his heart and neither could understand how the other coped. 'Where then? Are you still going to look for her?'

Halbarad's face answered the question, but he explained anyway. 'I loved – or thought I did – before I found her. I lusted after I lost her. She was right to leave – what could an old Ranger give a young woman? I'm old now; old and scarred. I've seen wars, peace, been in love. What else have I got to live for? I don't wish to see her, or for her to see me.'

'What are you doing then?'

'Heading towards Rohan first, to buy a mare and a stallion. I don't want to travel, but if I have to, I'd like a good horse; not that fellow you gave me. Then I'll find a place to settle down.' There was no fear or anticipation in Halbarad's face, merely acceptance. 'My day was a long time ago, I'm afraid. My stars are waning – I'll be going soon.' He did not mean moving on.

They let silence fall for a time. 'Halbarad, will I see you again; this side of Mandos?'

The other Ranger shook his head. 'Gondor and Minas Tirith are yours to rule. I'm too old to become involved. I enjoyed ruling with you in dreams and talk, when we were young and hopeful – but not now. Dreams are dreams. You stay with your country.'

'And you?'

'I'm leaving, Strider. Set your sights on Mandos; I'll be there, then.' He lifted the ale cup and drank deeply.

'Is there anything…?' Aragorn asked, his voice a lament for their friendship.

'No. Only for me to leave before some-one finds me another Orc to slay, or before any more farewells like this.'

The pair looked at each other across an ocean of difference that was only just becoming apparent. A friendship that they had always thought of as solid was slipping away, ebbing into the night, and neither cared enough to stop it. Mutely, Aragorn extended his hand across the embers of the campfire. Halbarad took it, and in that silent farewell, they said, perhaps, more than they could have with speech.

As the last ember winked out, Halbarad mounted the chestnut that Aragorn had given him and ceremoniously handed the silver-starred banner to his King. 'Namarië mellon-mîn, namarië.'

Aragorn echoed the words, then closed his eyes as Halbarad and his horse disappeared inot the night, to return no more to the Northlands where they had been born.

'Farewell, my friend, farewell'