When Damrod left the room and Harma was alone again, the memories from the night before assailed him. He cried silently, hating himself, feeling sick just to be in his own body. Out of habit, it seemed, he wished automatically that Elboron was there to hold him. That thought only made things worse though when he realized that Elboron would not be back for a long while, that even when he did return there could be none of what there once was, and, worst of all, that if Elboron ever learned of what had happened, he would never even so much as glance his way again.
Harma had so wanted to convince himself that things were as they had to be for a reason and that he could use the time Elboron was away to forget all that they'd had. Now, though, every breath he took seemed to echo that he would never forget, and that he would likely always love Elboron.
He could hear movement in the next room and voices out in the streets, and he hated it. He wanted to shout at everyone to be silent. How could they all be so callous? Did they not know what agony he was in? There were times when it felt as if the entire City knew about he and Elboron – they hadn't, of course, but unreasonable suspicion makes one perceive things differently. Why couldn't they just let him grieve in silence now?
He pulled the blankets up around himself and curled up, hiding his head. He wanted to be alone for a long, long time.
--
Elboron rode steadily, though he felt anything but. For days now every time he began to think that he was going to be able to make a fresh start, thoughts of Harma came crashing back to him and made his heart ache fiercely. He was growing so frustrated by it, days of riding along spent thinking of things to think of to take his mind off of Harma, nights spent firmly entrenched in dreams of him. Elboron felt as though he was coming to the end of his tether at too quick a speed.
Finally he just had to ride off for a few moments, he just didn't want there to be anyone else near enough for him to hear them. He felt he needed to breathe his own air and compose himself before he could ride another step with his family.
"I'll scout up ahead," he said, suddenly riding past his father and grandfather. He rode fast and disappeared behind a small hill rather quickly. There were no need to scout and the other three knew it, but all privately thought that it was as good an excuse as any if you just wanted to be alone for a moment.
As soon as he knew he was out of sight, Elboron pulled on the reins till his horse stood still and he dropped his head down and wept. A moment ago he was so frustrated that he'd wanted to rip down the trees they rode amongst with his bare hands. Now all he could feel was the hurt. He felt so much like just turning around and riding straight back to Minas Tirith and begging Harma's forgiveness. 'He'd never give it,' Elboron whispered to himself, 'not now.' Would Harma ever forgive him? Elboron doubted it, and at the moment, it was the only thing he really wanted. Elboron felt sure that if he could only talk about this with someone that he would be able to deal with it. That was something that he absolutely could not do though, he reminded himself strongly.
--
Harma lay there in bed for the second day in the Houses of Healing. He was genuinely starting to hate it, laying there with nothing to do but think about Elboron… and try not to think of how he had ended up there. Master Damrod insisted he stay and rest, though.
A memory came to Harma of one night that he had spent with Elboron, curled up in his arms and feeling protected and loved and blissful.
Elboron kissed his temple and pulled away a bit, reaching over for his discarded cloths. Harma had taken it as a signal that it was time to go and sighed, wishing the night didn't have to end. Slowly he sat up and searched in the low candlelight for his own clothes, pulling his shirt on.
Elboron had turned to look questioningly at him. "Are you cold?" he asked.
Harma just shook his head and started to stand up. Elboron, however, hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him back down. "Then what you are doing?"
"Leaving," Harma said simply, not sure why Elboron would question that.
"Why?" Elboron said, concerned he'd done something wrong.
"It's late… you want to get your sleep." Harma could not understand what Elboron was playing at, he was the one who pulled away and made to get dressed first.
"I do want to sleep," Elboron conceded. "But not alone," he added with a smirk and took Harma's shirt from off of his shoulders. "Unless, of course, you don't want to stay," he said, realizing that maybe Harma was uncomfortable here.
Harma, little-spoken as he was, just put his arms around Elboron and snuggled against him again. Elboron ran a hand softly through Harma's dark hair, gently tilting his head back, and they kissed. Elboron smiled that beautiful smile that both killed and resurrected Harma in the same moment. "You always taste like honey," Elboron murmured close to Harma's ear.
Harma snickered and said playfully, "so do you."
Elboron pulled him closer against him and the thought that Harma meant the world to him ran through his mind. He was vaguely aware that he should have said those words out loud. Instead he pulled back a little again and lit a couple more candles. "Here," he said, turning back to Harma, "I want you to have this." Elboron gently pressed something metallic into Harma's hand.
Harma looked to see a silver filigree tree like the one that the King had found before they were born. It was a beautiful motif and expertly crafted, fitting perfectly in his palm. Harma traced the branches to their flowering ends and ran his finger down along the trunk.
"Whenever I am away, look upon this and you look upon me, hold this and you hold me, press your lips to this and you press your lips to me," Elboron said, an ancient lover's pledge that he'd read in one of the books that had once been in the library at Imladris and was now in his father's own extensive collection.
Harma wrapped his arms lovingly around Elboron. "Thank you," he whispered. "I only wish I had something to give you in return."
"You have, little darlin'" Elboron said, cupping Harma's face in his hand and touching his forehead to Harma's and cutting off his own words as he ghosted his lips over Harma's.
Harma started to get up to look for his cloths. That little emblem never left him since it was given to him, and now he wanted to take it from the hidden pocket where he kept it and hold it. He knew it would bring him to tears again, but he decided it would be easier to cry himself to sleep. He felt a bit frantic when he could not find his cloths anywhere in the chamber, it hadn't even occurred to him until then that they'd probably had to cut off what he was wearing, considering that he was dressed in one of the long, simple tunic-style garments that were kept for patients in the Houses, as they could be worn by both men and women.
"Harma," Damrod chided as he entered the room to see his young charge up and about. "I thought we agreed that you would rest."
"...Promise," Harma said, still not able to speak much. He realized that he was feeling weaker than he expected and that certain places were still much too sore. "Where are my -"
"I thought you also promised to rest your voice. Your clothes you are asking about? I can have someone bring something more comfortable if you like, but there was nothing wearable left of what you had on."
"Did you search -" Harma began and sounded a little panicked even in his weak voice.
"Yes, Harma, you know that is standard practice. I would have set aside anything I found, and you know that I respect your privacy, regardless of what I might have found. However, I did not find anything. Is there something you are looking for?"
Harma nodded, but was worried now. If Damrod had not found Elboron's charm in his clothes when he was brought in, where could it be? The last thing he wanted to think of was those men who attacked him finding it. Surely they couldn't know what it meant, but just the thought of them touching something that scared to him, that Elboron had put his pledge upon, even if that pledge now meant nothing, it felt like it would be an ultimate violation.
Damrod had brought cool water and fresh fruit for Harma to nibble on until he felt better enough for a full meal. He nodded when asked if he would eat and drink, not because he could not use his voice, but because he did not want to. It had been bad enough to have to lose Elboron, but it was just the finishing touch that he now could not find his amulet. Would they take everything from him? They already had his pride, worth, and honor. He no longer had any hope to give. Did they have to take the only memento of happiness he had left as well?
Damrod said nothing and turned to leave, seeing that Harma still wanted to be alone. He was growing concerned for, as far as he could tell, although Harma had clearly been roughed up, there was no physical reason for him to be so unwell. There was no light whatever in Harma's eyes and it bothered Damrod. Something more had happened, he knew that without a doubt by now, and whatever Harma was looking for had something to do with it. He considered asking the boys over at the stables to come and visit their "captain," thinking that might cheer Harma, but something told him to respect that Harma wanted to be alone. After all, the Houses were not a place to heal only the body, Damrod understood well that one must also be able to ease the heart and mind. Instead he went across the street to ask the lads if they had found any objects near Harma. Whatever it was, it seemed to mean a lot to the younger man.
--
At long, long last, the four riders had finally arrived at Edoras. Éomer hurried out to greet them as Faramir's gaze subconsciously went to one of the burial mounds outside the city. There were more simblemynë that grew there than on any of the other mounds. The Steward was grateful to see his cousin, Rohan's Queen, coming with her husband; they would provide a distraction for the moment at least.
Elboron, too, was glad for the distraction, and glad to see his cousin, Elfwine, again. Finally, he thought, something glad for a change. Rohan was a much more relaxed place than Minas Tirith and often times he felt more comfortable in his skin here where formality was not so ingrained into every breath the people drew. He would welcome a hot bath, good meal, and soft bed after too much time in the saddle too. Maybe here, he thought, he could hope to forget.
"How have you been 'Bori? We don't hear from you anymore," Elfwine accused teasingly as they embraced.
"Well, for the last week I've been on the road, and if that doesn't give you some indication, you haven't been keeping busy enough yourself," Elboron teased back, although it was perfectly true.
"Ah, that's too bad. Here I was hoping to hear that you've been too busy with some lady, or ladies, to write your cousin." Elfwine smirked. The Prince of Rohan was much like his grandfather, Éomund, had been,Aragorn thought.
"Oh, I've been busy," Elboron promised, "just not with any ladies." Again, he spoke no untruth.
"Well, come on, let'sget these horses bedded down and catch up. Want to join us, 'Dari?" Elfwine asked.
"I'll have to pass, thanks. Right now, I'd rather join the cook in the kitchen," Eldarion said, staying with his father and older brother.
"Save something for us, will you? An ale, I mean, not the cook, she's all yours!" Elfwine laughed, leading Aragorn, Faramir, and Eldarion's horses over to the stables. He would likely have them all three settled down the time Elboron finished with his own horse.
"They must be keeping you busy, cousin," Elfwine said, unfastening the harnesses on Elboron's horse since it was second nature to him. "You look more tired than any of them. Mumma always talks about how uncle Faramir would work himself to death if not for Aragorn making sure he took time to relax. Sure you aren't going down the same path?"
"I don't even know what path I am on," Elboron said under his breath. "I am well enough, Elfwine, I just haven't been able to sleep too well. You know how it is on the road. I am glad we are here again, though. It has been so long since I've seen my aunt, uncle, and cousin."
"Well, take more holidays and that won't happen," Elfwine said definitely, turning to hang up the bridle. "Oh! Bori', where did you get this? It's beautiful!"
"Get what?" Elboron asked. He knew the Rohirrim were horse fanciers in the extreme, but he had never seen anything extraordinary about his horse's bridle.
"This!" Elfwine said, holding out a small figure of a galloping horse wrought in silver.
Elboron recognized it at once. It belonged to Harma, he often wore it on a chain around his neck. Taking the small ornament, he stared at it, touching it gently. "How did that get there?" he wondered aloud, as if Elfwine had the answer.
"You mean you rode all the way and never noticed that? It was on your bridle. If you tell me that you have left the bridle on this horse the entire -." Elboron looked up sheepishly and Elfwine had no need to finish that thought. "Bema, Elboron!"
"I've been a little preoccupied lately," Elboron shrugged.
"Preoccupation doesn't excuse neglect!" Elfwine nearly shouted in disbelief.
"Sorry?" Elboron tried.
Elfwine sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've shouted. Just, please, pay a little more attention to your horse. He would give his life for you if need be."
Elboron heard and nodded, but as he was looking at the little silver horse in his hand, those words seemed distorted to him. It seemed to mean something completely different. "Pay attention to your horse…. He would give his life for you…," Elboron heard and the only thing he was thinking at the moment was of that little silver ornament around Harma's neck. In many ways, that horse was the only witness to what he and Harma had shared.
He wondered why this thing came to him just now. He had not noticed it at all for the last week. And how had it gotten onto his bridle? That was not such a mystery, really. Elboron knew just by the way that everything was ordered, the way the reins were fastened, the way the saddle was secured, the stirrups at just the right length, all of it pointed to Harma. Harma knew exactly how Elboron liked to ride, and it was clear that he'd tacked up Mornaloth for him the morning they left the City. How hard must it have been for him, aiding in the cause of his own heartbreak? And yet he had done it, as perfectly as always. Elboron clenched the little silver charm in his hand tightly. Harma had put it there for him to find when he took off the bridle at night, a reminder that he still loved him, and Elboron had failed to see it or take proper care of his horse.
"I guess in the back of my mind I just didn't want to ruin his work," he said, trying to justify to himself not untacking his horse each night.
"Well, I can see that, whoever tacked this lad knows what he is doing," Elfwine said.
Elboron still couldn't take his eyes from the charm. He couldn't bear to stand there and settle the same horse that Harma had taken such care with a week ago, he felt he would do it all wrong. "Elfwine? Can you take care of him for me? I really think I need to lay down more than I realized."
"Of course, cousin. You should get some rest and I will let you know when supper is ready."
Elboron scarcely heard as he had started out of the stable already and headed up to Meduseld. He knew where to find a quiet place, the little, underdeveloped library, and he went there at once. For at least an hour he just sat there looking at the gift from Harma. He could see it in his mind's eye dangling from Harma's neck. It would sway back and forth, looking like the silver horse really was galloping along, when Harma leaned forward. It would be pressed between them when they held each other tightly.
Thinking of the silver tree he had given to Harma one night some while ago, he thought that this must be Harma's way of giving a gift in return. For him to have given this, rather than giving him his silver tree back, after he'd broken his heart, it spoke so loudly that Elboron thought he'd be deafened by it. Elboron thought of the pledge he had made on the tree ornament and wondered if Harma had made the same pledge on this. Hoping he had, he pressed his lips to the amulet as tears slipped down, and whispered, "I love you, Harma. I am sorry."