Chapter Seventeen

Foothills of Ephel Dúath

Sev's hand trembled as she carefully added a stone to the cairn erected over Landis' shallow grave. The morning sun sent shadows stretching away from her that called forth visions of similar shadows reaching across the road before Helm's Deep. Her eyes flickered to the single cairn raised over the bodies of Oren, Grady and the archer she now knew was called Slevin. Them she would not mourn. But Landis had set himself between her and Grady's insanity, thus she owed him a debt she would begin to repay with remembrance.

Remembrance, not of the warrior, but of the man he had revealed in the darkness. The man who told of climbing mountains and looking toward the distant sea. The man who spoke with mingled pride and grief of the son who had passed before him. The man whose loyalty to his captain had led him to a death far from his home. That man she would mourn.

Stepping back, she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow."

Despite the bright sunshine, Sev felt no warmth. A chill had settled inside her that she knew would not wholly disappear until Nik was safe. Her hope that it would all end here had been in vain. How she wished she had killed the man herself. Then there would be no need for all of this. Halbarad had made as fair a judgement as he was able, yet Nik's fate was still uncertain and the only way to see that Nik received not only a judgement, but justice, required her to appear before Lord Faramir and retell this story. How many times would she have to do that? Would she repeat it so many times that the event became a meaningless collection of words?

Turning abruptly away from the cairn, she found her way blocked by Darien. His face was drawn with the same weariness she felt, and with the grief she knew as well. Their paths would run a similar course in the months ahead, yet at this moment all that kept her from assaulting him with both words of condemnation and her fists was the promise she had made in the dark hours of the night. Landis' loyalty to this man reached beyond the grave, and that she would honor.

Darien bowed gravely and opened his mouth only to be stopped mid-word by Sev lifting a quick, warding hand. Looking past him to where Halbarad stood beside a scowling Anardil, she said quietly, "For now, I prefer not to speak to you. I am told you will be at the Burping Troll for a day or two. We can speak there."

Unmoving she stood, giving him only the stiff profile of her face, until he bowed once more and stepped aside. "As you wish, madam. We will speak at your convenience."

With a jerky nod, Sev swept past him to stand before Halbarad. "If you do not need me here, I would very much like to go home now."

"So long as you do not go alone," Hal replied gently.

That would be the closest he would allow himself to come to scolding. Sev had paid dearly for her impetuous nature this time and he would trust that the lesson would be taken to heart. At least for a while.

Sev nodded ruefully at Hal's words, then said irritably, "As if I will be allowed to go anywhere alone." With a sharp jab of her finger, she drew his attention to the Warg resting atop a nearby boulder.

Then with a narrowing of her eyes, she looked up at Anardil. "A certain ex-Ranger and an elf have arranged for Warg to accompany me everywhere I go for the next month."

Hal barked a strangled laugh and rubbed his hand across his mouth to hide his grin.

Sev glared at him, then with a toss of her head she said, "I am going to saddle a horse and get out of here. It's depressing me."

As Sev strode away with her canine bodyguard, Hal felt the laughter bubbling up inside. Working hard to control himself, he said, "Now, why didn't I think of that?"

Anardil gave his long time friend a wry smile. "Hal, when will you admit it? I've always been much better at seeing the possibilities in a situation than you have. You have been neglecting some of your best resources."

"I'm certain you have any number of recommendations for me," Halbarad replied with a laugh. "But can it wait until we get back to the Troll? Then I can write down all of your suggestions."

Anardil chuckled and said, "One must simply recognize the tools at hand. The warg is loyal, diligent, formidable - and accepts tidbits and cold leftovers as payment." Then more soberly he added, "Hal, you've made the fairest judgement possible in this situation. More just than I fear I would have been capable of. Now, we have to move on to the next step."

Rubbing his chin ruefully, Halbarad said, "And for all Sev's dislike of pomp and stuffy chambers, I sense that she will not let this matter rest for long."

Anardil snorted, "What? Ignore a crusade? It is a wonder she is not halfway to Emyn Arnen already."

"Or on her way to Minas Tirith," Hal retorted.

Assuming a mock look of alarm, as he watched Sev's determined march towards the picket lines, Anardil said, "Are you sure she's not?"

"You're in charge of her bodyguard - didn't you promise Warg enough soup bones?"

They laughed together, and then catching movement from the corner of his eye, Anardil turned to see Darien leave the new-built burial cairns and begin walking their way. Undoubtedly Darien had final words for Halbarad before his company went their way, but in the interest of keeping the peace Celebsul and Halbarad had created, Anardil decided he had best keep his distance from the man.

"Captain," Anardil said by way of leaving Halbarad to his duties. With a nod, he followed after Sevilodorf.

xxxxxx

Sev stopped halfway across the clearing and turned with folded arms to confront the Warg.

"Are you seriously planning on following my every footstep for the next month?" Sev's blue eyes glittered with suppressed anger.

Warg hunched her powerful shoulders in imitation of a shrug. "The offer was too good to refuse."

"Whatever they offered, I will double," Sev said hastily. Then she shook her head. "Sorry, never mind. You accepted their terms and I will not ask you to break faith; but, nmad, one or both of us will be insane before the end of the month."

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Sev unfolded her arms and waved the Warg to follow her to the other side of the clearing. At the main campfire, Milo and Neal were tying shut the baskets, repacked with the scant remains of the foodstuffs. Near the base of the hill, Gubbitch and three of his lads were in a rather intense discussion with the elves.

Sev paused and studied that conversation closely. What would they have to talk about that seriously? Behind her Warg coughed impatiently. Sev snorted. This arrangement might not last past the end of the three days of rest those two connivers had forced upon her. If she weren't so attached to those blades, she'd just ignore them both.

Reaching the small grove where the horses had been tied to ropes strung between trees, Sev noted that Horus and her other assistant from the cave were busily brushing mud from the horses while nearby the man, Osric, was doing a poor job of getting the tack organized. Granted the man had one arm in a sling and from the lines furrowed on his forehead was in some pain; still, Sev had seen better jobs done by five year olds.

As the Warg trailed behind, the horses picked up her scent and moved nervously. The men turned as one to stare at Sevilodorf and her canine bodyguard. For an instant, the sight of the shadowy forms approaching triggered an intense panic. Her mouth dried out and her heart raced. Warg picked up her fear and moved to stand between her and the men. At the movement the animals from the Burping Troll merely turned their heads to see the warg, then return to standing with eyes half closed in utter boredom. However, the horses belonging to Darien's men jerked their heads up with ears sharply pointed and blew hard, rattling snorts of suspicion. As the men froze in place Warg growled in a low voice.

"Warg!" Sev said sharply, partly to hide her own fear and partly because such behavior did not help matters.

Warg settled for glaring with her hackles ridged down her spine but held her position. The scents now touching her nostrils were the same she had followed through rain and mud to find Sev, and instinct demanded that these men not be trusted. But then the man Horus showed white teeth in a deprecating smile and stepped forward.

"Peace, madam," he said. "And to your companion also. I am instructed to show you to your horse, if I may." His gaze touched Warg and the rigid, high-headed poses of the horses around him, and his smile deepened. "Perhaps it would be best if I brought it out to you."

"Thank you," Sev replied guardedly. "I would appreciate that."

She and Warg stepped back several paces, and then Warg reluctantly backed still further away and lay down with a glum wargish scowl. Seconds later Horus appeared leading a saddled horse. Sev frowned as she recognized the handsome bay gelding clumping uneasily at his heels.

"Is this -?"

"It is the captain's wish," Horus replied, and halted the horse before her. "This horse and you are both of Rohan, and he felt you would find this animal a good companion on your road home. We now have ... other horses to choose from, so this one is yours until the captain comes to retrieve him."

Sev did not recognize the saddle upon the horse's back as Darien's and for a moment found herself wondering if it was Landis'. Shrugging off the thought sharply she took the lead line and held out her free hand, watching the horse bend its long neck to blow warmly upon her fingers. There was comfort in the rich fragrance of horse and the feel of a warm coat under her caressing hand, and she found herself smiling as the horse gently pushed his heavy muzzle at her waist.

"No treats, pretty lad," she said softly. "At least not until we're home."

"May he bear you safely," Horus said, and with a slight bow he stepped back, turned and walked away.

Looking at the horse's soft brown eyes, Sev sighed. "Come on," she said.

The poor beast immediately blew and danced sideways when Warg stood up, but settled to a mincing walk at Sev's sharp reprimand. "He's well mannered, but his training has been that you are the enemy. Better make sure you stay downwind." Sev said, and Warg sighed a long-suffering grumble.

"Or your ride home might be faster than you thought."

Sev turned at that familiar voice to see Anardil approaching, again wearing his familiar crooked grin. His eyes warmed further still as she gave him a faint smile.

"Surely you weren't going to leave without me, were you?" he asked, as he stopped before her. With light fingers he touched her cheek, letting his fingers trail to her neck, and then he bent to press a soft kiss to her lips. "I had hoped to ride with my lady."

"Another body guard?" asked Sev archly.

"Of course." Mischief danced in his grey eyes as he touched a finger to her lips and added softly, "And the closer I am to your body, the better I can guard it."

Suddenly she was very aware of two things; one, that he stood so close she could smell his scent, a warm mixture of wood-smoke and horse and an indefinable something that was simply him; and two, that her face had become flaming hot. Judging by the pleased grin growing across Anardil's face, her blush was as visible as she feared.

"You take unfair advantage, sir," she said.

"Nay, lady! I merely speak the truth."

An enormous canine yawn stretched to completion in an exasperated squeak. A deep sigh followed.

"Warg?" said Anardil, without turning from his study of the loveliness of the feminine blush.

"Hmm?"

"A whole haggis to yourself, if you will go away for two or three minutes."

"Well, I would take you up on that, but I don't think you can bribe those three with haggis."

Anardil looked up, and resigned himself to postponing further kissing until a less-populated moment. Straight towards them walked the elves Aerio and Gambesul - and between them lurched the ungainly form of the big orc Lugbac. The former Ranger could not stop the twinge of unease in his belly at the sight of Lugbac, but he found a ready smile for the elves, especially Aerio.

"Well, friends, are we about finished here?"

"I believe so," Aerio replied as the threesome drew near. "Perhaps our captain and theirs may have some last words, but I am ready for home and a hot meal. I believe the others are but moments behind us. How do you fare, Mistress Sevi?"

"Well as can be expected," Sev replied, eyeing the odd trio curiously. "Which will improve the closer I am to home. But what tomfoolery are you up to?"

"Ah, well, you see, Lugbac has a business proposition." Aerio smirked as he looked at Anardil. "For you."

"Me?"

"Ah got a sto-wan for tha," the big orc said. His face twitched as if to smile, but then he clamped his lips tight, ducking his face from Anardil's scrutiny.

Frowning in puzzlement, Anardil glanced at Sev.

"A stone," she translated.

"A reet pretty 'un," Lugbac said, then scrunched his mouth shut again.

Wondering if the orc had some odd facial tick he had not noticed before, Anardil nodded slowly. The two elves were now bearing matching looks of mischief, and he wondered if he were being set up for some sort of joke.

"I see," said Anardil.

"But it's not a gift," Lugbac announced. "Ah want to trade a blanket for it. It's a good, shiny sto-wan. Celebsul said so."

The orc held one clawed hand fisted around something. Again Anardil looked to Sev for guidance. Those two grinning elves would certainly be no help.

Sev gave them a look of weary patience. "So ... trade."

"Ah can't," said Lugbac. "It's a su'prise."

Anardil closed his eyes for an instant and tried not to clench his teeth. Perhaps taking pity on him, Gambesul spoke.

"Come, Anardil, walk with us a moment."

At a forbearing nod from Sev, Anardil left her with horse and warg to stroll several wary paces along the edge of the wood, back into the frail warmth of winter sunlight. Then he turned and faced his companions with stern look.

"Will you explain this nonsense, please?"

"As he said," Aerio replied airily. "He has a stone to trade. Go ahead and show him, Lugbac."

The gnarled paw curled open - and Anardil stared in surprise. Without thinking he reached to touch the stone, and then paused, watching as Gambesul gave an encouraging nod. The orc stood perfectly still as Anardil gingerly plucked the stone from its rough, grubby palm. Turning it in his own fingers, winter sunlight touched on a smooth, milky surface that almost glowed, which was dotted with tiny crimson flecks that almost should have smeared beneath his touch. Odd how the stone appeared to warm to his fingers, and it almost seemed he felt faint warming tendrils tickling the sinews of his hand.

Scowling thoughtfully, he looked Lugbac in the face. "Where did you find this?"

The big orc shrugged his neck almost into his shoulders, turning his eyes away. "Yonder in muck. Ah'm not supposed to pick plants, so ah pick sto-wans now."

"It's a bloodstone," Aerio said, watching as Anardil continued his inspection of the thing. "One of the gems these orcs bring to trade. It is said to impart wisdom, idealism, perhaps even protect against wounds. And it augments the gifts of healers." His smile canted into his familiar smirk as he added, "I would think you know such a one. And her birthday draws near."

Anardil's head came up with a jerk. "It does? It is?"

Aerio clasped his hands piously and quoted the verse that Anbarad had murmured in Sindarin moments before:

"Who in this world of ours, her eyes
In March first opens, shall be wise.
In days of peril, firm and brave,
And wear a Bloodstone to her grave."

With a languid shrug, Aerio said, "'Tis but a verse of lore, make of it what you will. But I think both verse and stone would be welcomed by our healer. If you would meet its price."

There was subtle challenge there, which Anardil met with a wry chuckle. Indeed, it appeared his courtship of Sev now drew the advice and assistance of at least three races, only one of which bore any resemblance to his own species. He wondered briefly if there was a horse somewhere that might want to offer its own opinion.

"A blanket, you say?"

Lugbac briefly glanced at him, then nodded and looked down at the crooked hands he twisted together. "Ah reckon. Gets co-wald at neet."

"It becomes cold at night," Aerio helpfully translated.

Anardil found himself staring at the orc's tight-clasped fingers. Dirt was still caked thickly beneath the long, broken nails, and for the first time he noted a thin gash drawn in a long line of dried black blood across the back of Lugbac's hand. Both were marks of the creature's long labors to free Sev from a would-be grave, labors that Anardil's infirmity had rendered him powerless to assist in. A blanket for one shiny stone... He felt the two elves' eyes on him as he silently wrestled the sudden tangle of his thoughts; images of a mad, hideous face in the instant before his arm was shattered, and with it his life; of Gubbitch and his 'lads' churning into their work all night with machine-like industriousness; of Titch in a red suit at Yule with a starched collar and a broken-toothed smile. Of Sev's hands rechecking the bandages around the head of Nik, the little uruk-hai.

"I have a blanket," he said. "But it is at the Troll with my things. Will you come there to trade?"

Lugbac looked up, and for an instant, pointed incisors gleamed before he mashed his mouth shut once more and mumbled, "Ah'll do that."

"Fair enough." Anardil held out his hand with the stone cupped in it. "Here."

Lugbac unlocked his fingers, then shuffled back. "Nah. Thee keep it. Ah'll be along. It be for Sev, and tha's Sev's man and she does reet by us."

Anardil drew breath to protest, but Aerio reached and folded cool fingers around Anardil's hand, firmly closing the bloodstone into the man's grasp. Blue eyes met grey as the elf said quietly, "Sîdh, mellon." Peace, friend. Though he said no more, Anardil imagined he heard the rest in silence. Let the enmities that could, die here.

"All right," he said, and made himself look squarely at the orc's ugly face once more. Old scars marred the leathery skin, thin black hairs sprouted like brambles from his head. But in those eyes ... perhaps there glimmered someone, not just something. "Come to the Troll, and I will trade you a blanket. It is a good, warm blanket."

Lugbac scrunched his face into a truly awful expression that may have been intended as a smile, but for the fact of his tightly-sealed lips.

"All reet," he said. Then; "Bye."

With that he turned and lumbered away, bearing towards his kinsmen who stood waiting the far side of the clearing. Meanwhile, Anardil turned the bloodstone in his hand once more, watching the watery play of sunlight on its pale, speckled surface. Who in this world of ours, her eyes in March first opens, shall be wise; in days of peril, firm and brave... Aye, that was Sev, born of a people to whom peril was a constant, and yet whose wisdom and bravery perhaps made her farther-sighted than himself.

"Her birthday, you say?" he asked.

"Yes," Aerio replied.

"When exactly?"

Anardil turned his head to catch the two elves exchanging glances. Gambesul shrugged with a look of broad innocence.

"That seems yours to find out. Although after all she's been through, a nice present might be a good idea ..."

"Yes," Aerio agreed sagely. "Having a headache creates an uncertain temper in females, and undoubtedly she is also very weary."

"Aye," said Gambesul with a sober nod. "It would behoove someone to remain on her good side."

With a snort Anardil put the bloodstone in a pocket. He would have the stone polished and set into a brooch or bracelet, and then he would present it to Sevilodorf. A quick glance to where she stood talking to the warg and tapping her fingers on her saddle in impatience suggested that he would need all the advantages he could get for the next few weeks.

"You are both rascals and rogues. But thank you." Anardil paused then said, "For everything you've done."

Aerio shrugged, and the bland mask of elven indifference was in place once more. "We do what we must. And now we must make ready to go home, I dare say."

Chuckling, Anardil said, "I'm with you. Let's go home."

xxxxxx

Sev did her best to keep her eyes from following as Anardil walked away with Lugbac and the young elves. Lugbac would be very upset if she found out the 'su'prise.' She wondered idly if he realized he had told her it was a stone. From past experiences with Lugbac, she doubted it. And what was going on with his mouth? Sev shuddered and sent up a silent prayer that the big orc did not have a toothache that would require removing a tooth.

"Cold?" inquired Warg.

"No, just an unpleasant thought." Sev tapped her fingers on the bay's saddle. "You do know the way home from here, don't you?"

Warg twisted her head and fixed Sev with her coppery eyes.

"Sorry," Sev apologized. "I'm still not thinking straight. But….if you do know the way, we could …"

Warg shook her massive head from side to side. "Nice try. But that man of yours promised me haggis three times a week and all the pony biscuits I can eat."

Sev tried to prevent a smile from forming at the words "man of yours," but was unsuccessful. Warg gave a loud hurumph.

"You aren't going to go all moony-eyed like Hal and Elanna, are you? Or get giggly like Camellia and Milo?"

Sev adopted a solemn expression and said, "Me giggly? Never."

Warg gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Let's hope he doesn't either."

"Eru forbid," said Sev, struggling to control the laughter welling up inside as the object of their discussion approached with his elven companions.

"And what do you ladies find so diverting?" asked Aerio eyeing them suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Sev's attempts to keep from laughing looked remarkable like Lugbac's efforts to keep from smiling.

Eyes gleaming, Anardil said, "No, gentlemen, the only thing that brings such amusement to two damsels is a discussion of the foibles of men."

Warg paused to cast Anardil an appraising look. This was the first time anyone had included her as a 'damsel.' Perhaps he would hand-feed her pony biscuits.

"Ah," said Gambesul. "Then there is no hope for us this day. For in my experience, once such a discussion begins, it continues for many hours."

Anardil looked at the elf in surprise. "And here I believed the females of your race were kinder and more refined."

Aerio groaned dramatically. "Sir, our ladies have many centuries to refine their techniques." With a sly glance at Sev, Aerio continued, "And to sharpen their tongues."

Sev slapped at Aerio's arm and said, "I will gladly draw up the list of your faults, Aerio, so that you might work on eradicating them; but if you do not mind I will do it after we have reached the Troll and I have had a hot bath."

Stepping lightly into her stirrup, Sev swung into her saddle. "Coming, Warg?"

"You told Hal you wouldn't go anywhere alone," Anardil said reaching for the headstall of her horse.

Sidestepping from his reach neatly, Sev smiled down at him. "I'm not alone. I have my bodyguard with me."

Then with a tap of her heels, she spun the bay and trotted away with Warg chuffing alongside - several yards to the side, since the horse kept snorting and trying to mince off the far side of the path. Anardil stared as the woman and the warg rounded a curve in the trail, until both shrank and vanished amongst the ranks of naked trees.

Then with a great burst of laughter, he said, "Where did Lugbac disappear to? I think I'll need a few more sto-wans."

Anardil stood beside his own horse moments later, saddle and blanket already on its back. He was just reaching beneath its belly for the girth when a boot stepped on wet brown leaves below and the girth swung to meet his hand. Catching it, he straightened to look over the saddle and met Elros' smiling grey eyes.

"Maybe this time we'll be able to show you some proper hospitality, eh?" Elros asked.

Chuckling as he matched the handsome Ranger's smile, Anardil said, "I would like that. If possible, give me at least three days to dry out and make sure Sev takes care of herself, before you bring on the next crisis."

White teeth gleamed between the black brackets of Elros' short beard. "We'll try, all I can swear is that we'll try." Then his dark brows lowered in a troubled mien and he rested a hand on the horse's mane. "Dil ... are we all right?"

Anardil glanced up from tightening the girth in surprise. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Decisions I made. Things that might have seemed unnecessary delays." He held Anardil's gaze steadily as he added, "I thought my heart had stopped when that mountain came down with Sevi inside. I can't imagine how it was for you."

Shaking his head, Anardil exhaled a long, dry snort before responding. "Elros, unless you've acquired some new skills since we served together, you are not responsible for preventing or causing landslides."

Elros allowed himself a sheepish grin, but then said, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I know what you meant." Anardil gave the saddle a shake to make sure it was properly set on the horse's back, and then looked across at his friend. "And in hindsight, I don't see how you could have called any of it any differently, without some very messy results. We could have roared in there like the Corsairs of Umbar ... but I don't think I want to imagine how that would have ended. I've had to do a lot of thinking this past night, and most of these men were our enemy, if they could be called that, only by bad luck and bad judgment."

Nodding slowly, Elros' expression seemed to lighten. "All right. I just wanted to be sure."

Anardil smiled wryly as he stepped around his horse's head to face Elros directly. Putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder, he gripped hard on the muscle and bone beneath the cloth.

"Elros, if anything I feel I should be grateful. I feel like I should start shaking hands with every man and elf - and hobbit - who rode here on Sev's behalf. But it would be a fool thing to thank people for friendship, so I'll just say that I am blessed to be able to claim some of the same friends that Sevi has. I couldn't wish for her a better place than the Burping Troll or better people than all of you."

For an instant Elros simply stared at him, with the most peculiar expression on his face. Then one side of his thin moustache quirked and his eyes twinkled.

"If you think this means I'm going to start buying you drinks and dinner, Dil, you have another think coming."

The shoulder clasp turned into a stiff shove, as laughter rang among the stark trees. Elros was still laughing as Bob came up leading his own saddled horse, asking, "What did I miss?"

Then another voice cried out in tones of great vexation. "Hoy, you Rangers! Do you think I could have a hand here? This dratted horse thinks I'm lunch!"

They turned to see the hobbit Milo nearly buried beneath his burden of empty baskets. That alone was not of note, except for the fact that he was knocked staggering as his borrowed red horse tried to stuff its nose in the baskets. Even as they watched, another hearty shove unbalanced the hobbit and down he sat with a thump in the wet leaves. The horse lowered its head to stare at him with mild, puzzled eyes, and Milo glared back as hard as he could.

"Looks like you have another rescue on your hands," said Anardil with a grin. He gathered his reins and swung astride in his odd, wrong-sided way. "I'd help, but I have a lady to catch."

There he paused and slapped his hand to his pocket. "Oh, which reminds me -."

Aerio and Gambesul had already escaped his sight, but one of the elven brothers stood beside a horse nearby. Anardil picked up his reins and bent his horse that way.

"Firnelin, may I ask a favor of you or your brother?"

xxxxxx

After discussion between Halbarad and Darien's group, it was decided that Darien, Horus, Evan and Neal would go to the Burping Troll under Ranger escort. The boy would need time to recover from his broken leg, and his brother would not leave him. Horus asked to stay with them both until they were well enough to travel home. The other men would return to the hideout to collect their stores. From there Carrick would lead them back to their homeland in the Blackroot Vale.

With a curious frown, Halbarad enquired, "Is the settlement still habitable? I had thought your homes destroyed."

Quietly Darien explained, "My nephew currently oversees the holding and those who have been left behind. There is indeed a place for my men to return to."

The unspoken question was if they would stay. Whether they would all choose to rebuild their lives and homes there, or whether some would offer their swords to the king in order to pursue orcs in the legitimacy of his troops was for each to decide. However, Darien knew his men well enough to be sure that those who had sworn to return and tell the truth of these last hours to the Steward would do so.

Aerio scowled across to where Darien stood with his men and Halbarad. He had feared the man would get off lightly, and Halbarad's "ruling" agreed with him not at all.

Whispering quietly to Celebsul, Aerio insisted again, "He should be made to pay severely for what happened to Sev, no matter what anyone says. He hurt her."

"Really?" Celebsul spoke quietly in return. "Recall when you threw Sevilodorf over the side of the Rowan when we sailed to Tolfalas. You could have killed her. That was not your intent. The act was an impulse. A mistake. But think what might have happened."

"That was different," Aerio protested, no longer whispering. "I should not have done it, but I meant no harm. I only wanted to make a point. These men acted from blind prejudice."

Heads turned at this statement, as those close enough began to listen.

Celebsul responded in a hushed voice. "And the point was what? That elves are naturally superior to mortals - a better cause than ridding the world of evil?" Then he raised his voice and spoke clearly, "Men who hate orcs are not prejudiced; you may as well accuse them of sanity. These men took a wrong step because here we have a rare exception to the rule. They followed a mistaken course, and mistakes breed like rabbits, but they were led by an ancient certainty. I once fought from such certainty, and in a cause wholly good, but not all of those I killed deserved death. Not all who sided with the enemy were evil. Some did so because they knew no better, or were afraid or coerced."

He looked across towards Horus. The dark man's eyes fixed upon his own, glittering with unspoken secrets.

The elf went on, "I have done much the same as these men, Aerio. If you judge them beyond redemption, then what hope for me?"

Aerio was appalled. "But you did not know that the enemy were not all evil."

"No, I didn't. And these men did not know that orcs are not all evil."

Lowering his voice, Celebsul spoke only to his apprentice, "I regretted what I did and learnt to forgive myself. Grant Darien the same chance."

Celebsul looked up then, and Gambesul drew near with an apologetic smile. "Your pardon, Master, but our horses are ready if you are."

Nodding once, Celebsul watched Aerio a moment more, and saw the younger elf's shoulders lift then drop around a mighty sigh. "I'll try, Master."

"That is all I ask," Celebsul replied gently. Then with his apprentices to either side he turned and walked towards their horses and the trail home.

Carrick, and the homeward-bound men he would now lead, took a somber leave of their captain and nodded farewell to Horus. They hoped they would all meet again, but doubt was a dark cloud on their hearts. Horus was not of Blackroot, and without Darien, he would not come there. If and when Darien would return depended upon many things, but mostly on whether he could abide the guilt and shame he had gathered unto himself. Had Carrick the words to assure his captain that he was still held in high esteem by his men, he would speak them. But while he had helped rescue those buried by the landslide, he had not the skill to remove the weight that lay upon Darien. Thus the men departed, wretched in the knowledge that their captain bore the guilt of all of them, but even in this they followed his orders. The men only paused on their way to ruffle the hair of Evan and wish Neal well. As they mounted their horses and rode away, none of them looked back.

A short while after, two riders left the outskirts of the camp and followed the same route. Halbarad had asked the elven brothers to secretly follow the company as far as Henneth Annûn. Though the men had seemed weary and subdued, Russ' words of warning lingered in the ranger's mind and he did not wish to test whether thoughts of resentment or revenge might occur to them once they were free.

Soon those that remained were mounted, even Milo the hobbit who had at last convinced his horse that the baskets it bore no longer contained food. Darien sat astride Landis' gentle mare. She accepted his saddle and his presence, but snuffled constantly at the air, seeking her master's scent. Darien spoke softly to her, knowing that however easily she could be distracted, she would always seek he whom she had long known and trusted. Finally, Halbarad asked and received confirmation that Evan's splinted leg was secured comfortably, and then he gave the order to move out. Behind them, as they rode away, the black scar of a fallen mountain loomed grimly over the clearing, and the bare clawed shadows of trees cast themselves across snow-pressed yellow grasses where small dark heaps of earth and stone marked the new graves.

xxxxxx

Sev found herself very pleased with the loan of Darien's Rohirrim horse. The animal was smooth-gaited and sure footed, a blessing to her weary, aching head, and answered readily to the lightest touch of leg or rein. Much as she had no inclination to think charitably of Darien, it was evident the horse knew only kind treatment and gentle handling from its master. It even accepted, albeit with rolling snorts and sharp, bit-jangling shakes of its head, the constant glimpses of Warg trotting in hillocks and ridges not far off the trail.

"Ydaets," Sev murmured as the horse's head bopped up to alertness yet again, and felt the animal's stride steady as she patted its neck.

It was after all becoming a beautiful day, the sky washed brilliant blue after the storm and bars of light danced through spidery winter shadows. The snow had melted to small pale rags beneath the trees and sodden brown leaves made no sound underfoot. The simple pleasure of riding a good horse at her own leisure, with no one to hinder and no one to say her aye or nay, soon warmed a smile onto her face.

The smile canted sideways, however, when a long whistle shrilled through the trees behind her. Her horse swung around even as she thought to ask him, and Warg likewise stood atop a nearby rise, her muzzle sharply pointed to the rapid muffled thud of oncoming hoof beats. However, Sev knew who it would be. And in moments she saw him.

Like a living avalanche he came through the barren wood, horse and man hurtling down a long slope at breakneck speed, long equine limbs reaching and flashing where no trail existed. Past crowded thin boles of trees they pounded and lifted briefly up and over a fallen log, alighting in a cocky flash of cloak and horse-tail. Anardil was showing off, and from the grin she could see even from here, he knew it. Yet her smile softened as she watched him. The lack of an arm might have cost him many things, but not his horsemanship. Not a fraction of light showed between seat and saddle, nor was Anardil so much as a heartbeat behind each plunging twist and turn. Reaching level ground his horse's ears came up as it reached for greater speed.

And then Anardil picked up the reins and, as on a snowy Yule day not that long before, his slid his horse to a flawless halt. Its head tossed as it snorted as if in pride of its own athletic prowess, and Anardil twisted to look back at the twin slide-marks in the damp loam behind them.

"Hmm. Shorter than I thought. Might have to try that again."

Sev was determined that she would not rise to his boyish baiting, but found herself melting before the broad grin he shone upon her. Obviously head injuries were not good for one's will-power.

"And you, my lady," he said with mock sternness, "have an alarming habit of running off without me."

"Do I?" Sev tilted her chin and eyed him challengingly. "Perhaps you just need to move faster. Or else watch me more closely."

Under a light touch of its master's heel, Anardil's horse sidled up beside her, where he dropped his reins and held out his hand. Taking her fingers in a warm clasp, his rakish grin eased to something that shone softly in his eyes and brought warmth to more than just her fingers.

"I intend to, meleth nín. I intend to."

His gaze held hers a moment more, whereupon their horses moved apart and their fingers let go. It was no matter, however, with a sleeping winter wood about them and blue sky above, and home waiting at the end of the ride. Warg trotted and loped ahead as the thin shadows slowly turned, and a while later Celebsul, Aerio and Gambesul trotted up behind and quietly joined them. They would be home before supper, and they knew the hobbits would be waiting for them with a welcome fit for kings. Strange how, in the light of day with warmth and friends ahead, the ride did not seem nearly as long.

xxx

TBC ...