Revision uploaded November 2022
Dramatis Personæ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger
Camaenor – Male, Master at Arms
Cordoves – Female, Ranger
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables
Mereniel/Swan – Female, Ranger
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command
"Nestdôl said simple fever, a cold, gone in two days with bed rest," the mother rushed her through the kitchen and into the family's bedroom, "but it's been four days now."
Eryndes of the Dúnedain took position beside the bed and smiled. An eight-year-old girl sat upright against her pillows, pasty and sweating from fever.
The fear on the girl's face was of the greatest concern. "Good morning, Naniel."
"Good morning," the girl's voice trembled.
"Lie back down and calm yourself," she ordered her gently, taking one of the pillows from behind her and easing the girl to lie down. "Breath in deep, allow your breath to reach your toes." Naniel did as instructed, her eyes almost shut in her wariness.
"Good girl, keep breathing. Relax your arms, imagine them floating gently down the river. That is right. Breath."
Colour bled back into the girl's face.
"Am I going to die?"
"Die from a cold? How ridiculous," she stroked the girl's arm. "Have you slept?"
Naniel shook her head.
"Why ever not?" she asked sternly, taking a wad of old cheese cloth, and swiping it with a layer of cooling herb oil cloth, and pressing it to her forehead.
"I thought I mightn't wake."
"Oh, hush girl," she admonished. "How will you regain your strength if you will not sleep? Nestdôl told you nothing more than a cold ails you and he is right. You must rest."
"Are you sure?" The child's mother, Nanmes, asked cautiously from behind her.
Eryndes looked away from the girl, but didn't look back at her anxious mother, "I know your reservations, Nanmes, but Nestdôl is the healing master. His diagnosis is correct."
"But she is not getting any better!"
Eryndes got the girl's attention with a hand on her shoulder, "Close your eyes now and breathe as I told you. I want you to think of what you will do once you are better. You like riding your pony along the river? Think yourself there now."
The girl looked up at her, unsure, apprehensive, then nodded and did as asked. Naniel was a good child, always so eager to do as told.
She squeezed her shoulder, "Good girl," then bade her mother to follow her. "Come. I have broth and herbs for you to administer over the next couple of days. Most importantly she needs rest; no getting out of bed and keeping her from thinking the worst. A strong will is just as important as a strong body."
They came to the kitchen and to the kitchen table where Eryndes's leather satchel sat. "No more silly ideas about illnesses or plagues."
"It is not unheard of in these parts," Nanmes argued. "Your mother knew it."
Eryndes said nothing to add to Nanmes anxiety. Pulling out a small bottle she placed it on the table, "One good tablespoon into a pitcher of water every day and ensure she drinks all of it spread throughout the day." Next, she took out a jar, "Rub this balm onto her chest or onto a cloth for her to breathe in, but careful not to get any in her eyes or mouth."
Nanmes took the balm. "I remember. Soup?"
Eryndes closed her satchel and tossed the strap over her shoulder, "Yes, a hearty soup and do not hold back on solids either. Keep her full of bread if she will take it. And plenty of water in addition to the medicine; plenty."
She walked away to the door.
"You're certain it is not plague?"
Eryndes smiled at her and opened the door, "Quite certain."
Nanmes joined her at the door and took her hand, "Thank you, Eryndes. I'm sorry I roused you so early out of bed for a cold. And in such weather."
Eryndes held her hand for a moment, "At the very least the broth and herbs will ease her symptoms and allow her sleep. I will return tomorrow."
"Thank you."
Climbing into her horse's saddle, she pushed him forward along the small track back to the main road. The sun had begun to tint the dark sky with shades of the coming day, filling the sky with dawn's first light.
Yet it was not the triumph lightening of the sky unto a new day. The endless blue skies of summer surrendered early last evening, and the beating rain had still yet to cease. A thick sodden blanket of clouds hid the sky from the world below.
Eryndes's heavy oilskin held off most of the torrent except for around her boots, hands and face, but it mattered little as her return journey to the manor would only take a ten-minute gallop.
Reaching the main road she urged Banjo, her aging gelding, into an easy canter along the muddy road.
A few minutes along the main North Road and she came to the crossroads; the eastern road leading to Carthal. The thick canopy of trees running along the road dropped fat drops of water over them.
A horn sounded in the darkness, sounding more deer than man.
Easing Banjo, she brought him to a quick walk and moved to the left-side. Ahead, the fires atop the stone wall and gatehouse came into view. Her manor towering up behind.
Out of the gate rode a company off on patrol, the usual dozen and a half strong, each rider light but armed.
She watched them, for although she was well to the side, giving them right of way, the company reduced their pace to a fast walk.
At the head of the company, riding his magnificent grey, was Sindar.
He was leading the rangers out on patrol? Did Aragorn trust him so implicitly?
The ground between them diminished. At the last moment, with just enough light from the wakening day, she saw the direction of his gaze.
For the briefest fancy, she hoped to find the same face she'd met a month earlier. The one full of courtesy and civility.
Of good humour and mildly flirtatious smiles.
Her hope fell. Recognition without warmth. A small tilt of his head was all he offered as their paths met and continued without pause.
The rangers greeted her as they passed. None of them smiled either.
Sindar's dour disposition spread to his men?
Banjo took them at an easy pace under the wall, Eryndes and the guards standing at post exchanging nods of greetings.
Leaving Banjo at the smaller of the two stables at the main entrance, the one not reserved for the warhorses, Eryndes climbed up the black stone steps to the main door, already pulling at the ties of her oilskin.
There she was cornered by the congregation standing inside the main doors. Seven of the twelve masters and mistresses stood together, animated in discussion, each one turning to Eryndes as soon as she stepped through the door.
"Morning, Eryndes. You're just in time," Mydedis called, nodding to the group.
"Good morning," Warily, Eryndes joined them, pulling her oilskin off her sweaty shoulders, "I understood our meeting was to be after breakfast?"
"Breakfast will have to wait," the Hunting Master, Faron, told her gravely. "The top fields have flooded. The south road, near the orchard and fifth grain shed is sludge. Getting anything heavier than a cart through will be a problem."
Camaenor, Master of arms and craftsman, pointed above them, "The roof's leaking in a half dozen places."
"Not to mention the grain and fruits still to be saved before it rots," Amben, Master of Crops, shook his head. "We need to be extremely industrious today or much will be lost."
Sali, the eldest of the Dúnedain and Mistress of the Kitchen, laughed, "The Masters have lost their minds in favour of fretting, my dear," Her old, wrinkled eyes glanced over her companions with obvious scorn.
"You cannot deny there is much to do, and Úrion won't forgo any patrols or guards to aid us," Faron shot down at Sali, the man as tall as any elf.
"Let's not get bogged down here." Eryndes caught each of their eyes, "Only by working together will we accomplish all that is necessary."
"Romon and Nestdôl? Are we not to take their direction?"
Eryndes bit back the choicier words she wanted to say to that. Instead, she flicked her eyes left to right. "I do not see them here, Amben. Has anyone seen them?"
"Probably off scheming."
"They are the elder Masters," Amben pointed out to Sali. "They should have a say."
The Master of Livestock, Geledir, a more calm and reasonable man, spoke to the elderly women to his side, "Surely the sheets can go unwashed today and draft extra hands to catch up after?"
Mydedis, Mistress of Housekeeping, crossed her arms over her ample bosom, "They can, but know its dirty sheets, clothing, bodies and floors for all if I don't get the extra help afterwards."
Lobordir, who had been half listening and half speaking to his rangers, turned back to them with a loud sigh, "Look, just save the roof and the food. The rest will sort itself. Take what rangers you need who aren't on duty and get it done."
"How many is that?" Eryndes asked him. "How many are not on duty?"
"The night watch."
"What of the afternoon patrols?"
"They have other duties, Eryndes. They don't just sit around all day."
Lobordir was a good man, also the Master of Stables and third in command of the Carthal rangers yet found the running of the manor tedious.
"The night watch? Fifty hands?" Sali growled. "Don't suppose you include yourself in the fifty."
Lobordir glowered, "I do my part. Everyone does their part."
"Which is priority?" Amben protested, "The hay needs to collecting and racked for drying; the grains need to be cut and racked. Then there's the fruit, drains needing diggin', and the sheep'll need to be moved to higher ground or it will be footrot-"
Lobordir held up both hands to stop the tirade, "Amben."
Amben stopped but set his jaw.
Lobordir rubbed the unshaven stubble on his chin impatiently, "Amben, I do understand. All of it needs doing and quickly."
"And we need not be wasting our time here talking," Sali pipped up.
Lobordir continued without acknowledging Sali's remark, "Now, as I said, Strider's given us leave to take anyone who's not required for duty. After yesterday's skirmish with his patrol, we can't relax our guard, not even for a day."
Camaenor rolled his eyes, "Fine. I'll get my people working on the roof before the whole thing comes down. Then we'll come work the fields."
Amben and Geledir each agreed with an, "Aye."
"Our manor staff will see to the fruit and vegetables," Eryndes nodded. "We'll need six hands to doll out feed."
"Geledir?" Lobordir said, "I'll send the rangers to you. Use the warhorses if you need, but not a mark of them. He who raises a stick or whip to them gets my whip. Got it?"
"My folk never use whips. It's the strain of actual work that'll bring your precious nags down," Geledir chuckled, "I'll move the sheep, then assist with the grain and hay."
Lobordir took a breath, "Are well all in agreement?"
While six of the other heads nodded in reluctant agreement, Eryndes pursed her lips, "Joust?"
Lobordir, also known as Joust, looked to her blankly, "Problem?"
"What of meals? You give us barely enough rangers for the fields, but what of cooking-"
"Can't you break into the stores? I must go. The rangers will report to you within a quarter hour," Lobordir told her, heading out into the pelting rain.
Eryndes glared at his back then turned back to the group, "I guess we will break into the stores. No cooking."
"Joust will be one to complain when he's eating nettles and pickled onions."
"Like me jab? Those rangers' who never done farming don't know a hard day's work." Geledir smiled at the group, "Well, better get to it."
With another laugh, he playfully nudged Sali then he and Amben.
The two younger men did not look as pleased but also left, Camaenor leaving a parting comment, "Let the nightmare begin."
"Come, ladies. There is much to do. And it'll be the women to blame when the food isn't served on time and the chooks and children go hungry," Mydedis gestured them in the general direction of the kitchen.
"Chooks or children, to which are you referring are the men?"
Eryndes laughed with the others, turning down the south wing of the manor, the great hall, "I thought you adored all men?"
"I adore children too. Doesn't mean they aren't pests. Besides, I have recently refined my tastes." Sali winked at her.
"Which one has refined your tastes this time?" Mededis asked.
"Well, the chieftain, whose handsome improved with age, the brawny Bear, and of course our latest addition to our community, Sindar." The old woman breathed in deep and let it out slowly, "What fortune I lived to see him riding up the road."
Though Eryndes fought to suppress it, a big smile graced her lips and let out a laugh, "Does Úrion know you call him the brawny Bear?"
Sali shrugged as they entered the kitchen through the large doors at the end of the hall, "He knows I've seen him naked."
"Sali," Eryndes whispered, her face reddening, "I am not certain I want to know that."
"Peace, dear," Mydedis' old eyes twinkled, "She means when he was a babe."
Through the door they were greeted by the many women who permanently worked in the manor kitchens and housekeeping, already hard at their duties.
A young and pregnant ranger named Mereniel heard the last part of their conversation, "Who around here haven't you see naked as a babe?"
Sali didn't miss a beat and answered with a purr, "The elf. An old woman can only imagine what lies under that fine tunic. What's more, you've got to wonder if everything's in proportion. For one so tall as he must-"
"Sali," Mereniel cut in sharply and capturing Eryndes's eye with an odd mixture of tease and caution, "We should not. Not all present have had the privilege."
"Have I not?" Eryndes protested, "Countless times I have seen-"
"Patients under your needle and knife don't count. Besides . . ." Mereniel nodded off to the others in the kitchen and Eryndes noticed the presence of Baineth. A girl on the very cusp of womanhood. Beautiful and willowy, and the up-and-coming lead singer at the manor.
"My money's on aye, everything's proportional," Mereniel said surreptitiously to Sali and held up her bowed butcher's knife with an evil smirk, "About this you reckon?"
Sali's cackle bounced off the walls, "Oh, Mereniel. You kill me."
Baineth gracefully danced over to them, "Eryndes. Did you hear me last night? Did you think I did well? Oh, and your song to welcome Sindar. What an honour! I'd surely aspire all my days to such a task."
Eryndes waited until she'd finished before answering, "You did very well, and no doubt Sindar was suitably impressed with you. Next time I'll happy step aside in your stead."
"Oh, but no! I couldn't." She beamed though. "You've been gone two months. He's been here a month, yet it feels like he's one of us."
Eryndes doubted that.
"Tell me, how do you find him?"
"How do I find whom?"
A few of the younger women sniggered, Baineth especially. "The elf, Sindar."
She kept her gaze steady, "I barely met him, but if he came here to fight for us-"
"Eryndes, no. Do you think him handsome?"
Baineth's enthusiasm made her stomach sour.
"Yes," she ground out, "He is handsome, but is that not the nature of elves?"
"Oh, but he must be a cut above," Baineth purred. "Oh, to have such a man."
"He's not a man," Eryndes shot back, far too quickly and with far too much salt. "Keep in mind; elves do not court mortals."
"He might change his mind. Do you expect him wealthy?"
Mereniel rolled her eyes. "His fine clothing? His pristinely bred horse? And his pretty affects aren't evidence enough? Aye, girl. You can assume his vault's full of gold."
"What of Strider swindling you into singing that song for him?" Mydedis asked softly at her side.
"I would have rather not. Alas my brother gave me little choice."
"Right pleased he was, and speaking pretty words, praising you," Baineth fanned her cheeks, "I only wish that were me."
"Did you expect him to say in front of the whole Dúnedain that my voice grated upon his ears and befouled his people's sacred song?"
"They say elves don't lie," said Mereniel.
A rude noise came out of her throat before she could stop it. "I am sure there are ways not to be truthful without telling lies. This Sindar, who hides his real name, is probably a master deceiver. Were he not donned in finery; I would order the treasure counted. If we had any treasure."
They stared at her. The whole kitchen was silent.
Laughter broke and then all of them were laughing.
"Good one, Eryndes! We can get ol' Sali up to his room to check for loot!"
Her face warmed. She forced a laugh, "Aye, we should."
"What man comes to a foreign land to fight for a people not his own?" Baineth sighed dreamily.
Mydedis plunked a plate down filled with toast and butter, "Here, eat up. Teas on the stove. Can't fix all there's to be fixed without breakfast."
Eryndes took a toast square and busied her mouth, instead of finding a response to Baineth's foolish musings.
Five minutes later, the meagre breakfast went out. Though Lobordir suggested not wasting time cooking, the porridge already cooked and so that went out along with yesterday's bread with mutton dripping.
Breakfast was a quiet affair with only a few the Dúnedain at the tables. Regardless the food would be kept out for those finishing duty or grabbing a bite between tasks.
It was to be a busy day for all.
Eryndes thought of Aragorn and hoped he thought to take a ration sack.
"You went to see Naniel?" A grating cavernous voice demanded.
Eryndes turned from her honeyed toast to see Nestdôl, the Healing Master, bearing down at her.
"Ah, yes, I did. Early this morning," she said with a frown. Nestdôl was as wrinkled as he was bitter, but this scowl was reserved for only the privileged few. "Nanmes came early this morning in a fright. She was convinced Naniel has plague."
"And you had to go out there to check for yourself?"
"At the time I did not know you already seen her. Nanmes made no mention of it until I arrived at her farm."
"I am the Healing Master here. I won't stand for anyone second guessing me."
"I did not," she countered, "I simply gave her some medicine to ease the symptoms-"
"A cold does not need medicine! Life is tough and your ministrations only weaken the will."
Eryndes eyes widened, "Naniel is eight years old."
"My bloody oath! You'd have all the young ones blowing their noses to get out of duty," Nestdôl levelled his finger at her, "I forbid you to waste any more on frivolities."
"Frivolities?" she repeated, wanting nothing more than to shove his finger out of her face. "We are healers. I refuse to sit back and watch children suffer needlessly-"
"My decision is final," his eyes narrowed at her, "and you will do as you're told."
"Only in matters of healing do you command me. You need remember that."
For a moment she feared he'd strike her, such was ire in his eyes. "Obstinate trul."
"Trul?"
"Trollop work better for you? One day, you will be brought to knee. I vow you will."
"Vow all you wish. It does not change anything."
"We'll see." Nestdôl gave her one more look of distain then walked away.
"Eryndes?" Gueniel came to her side, "Are you alright? Shall I give him a piece of my mind?"
Eryndes stopped her, "Nay."
"Why? He is a horrid beast!"
"His pride was injured. He assumed I went to reassess his diagnosis and needed to take me down a notch; justified or not."
"But to call you-"
"I believe that was precisely his intent."
"Are you going to heed his order?"
Eryndes squeezed her friend's hand then collected her plate, "Of course not. Nestdôl would not expect me to either. He knows I never withhold medicine; his wishes be damned."
"Your mother would never have us withhold medicine from sick children."
Giving both their plates to the scullery, Eryndes poured tea for them, "Nestdôl has his reasons. He saw what happens to folk during a plague outbreak." She sighed. It was easier to speak the words of capitulation and unity than to believe them, especially when it came to a cantankerous old man like Nestdôl. "He saw what happens when the medicine runs out."
Gueniel eyed her, accepting a mug of steaming tea, "You could not try to force yourself to like that man anymore if all our lives depended on it."
"My duty, dear, is not to like him. My duty is to respect him, more than that, I am to support his position as the elder Carthal master. Better for communal unity." But she then made a face, "But withholding simple herbs from an eight-year-old?"
"No indeed not," Gueniel agreed, sipping her tea quickly, "Beast of a man."
Eryndes sipped her own tea as urgently as Gueniel, "My brother has called him far worse." She changed the subject, "Are you labouring in the orchards with the rest of us today?"
"Nay," Gueniel took another sip, "Amdiel's babe is not patient, and it seems today is the day. She made it through the night, but . . ."
Eryndes smiled. The birth of a child was always cause for her to be jolly. "Does she guess the sex?"
Gueniel finished her tea, "She believes it a girl."
"Girl or boy," she grinned, "Any child is a blessing. You will call me if you need help?"
"And save you from the orchard? I would but Cravril is already assisting me. I could make her to trade places with you?"
Eryndes finished her tea and waved her suggestion away, "Nay. No need. I will see the babe tonight."
"There are many hours of hard work for all before then."
"I will ask for an extra barrel of ale to be opened in celebration."
Gueniel chuckled, "Your mother used to have wine and spirits for celebrating successful births."
"Times are tough. Be grateful we brew our own ale." Eryndes smiled at her friend ascending the stairs to the second level.
Taking an old worn apron, she eyed her oilskin hanging up to dry. Tying the apron strings, she left the manor without oilskin and made her way outside into the pouring rain.
Of the approximate five hundred Dúnedain living in the community, only two hundred lived at the manor permanently. During the weeklong festival, many of the rangers slept in tents outside or on mattresses in the great hall.
Eryndes passed the tents, made miserable by the rain and muddy sludge the ground had turned too. She was glad to have her own room in the manor.
She should feel guilt. But no. They were Dúnedain rangers. A tent to those men and women was luxurious.
The women of the household already made their way to the orchards and Eryndes smiled to them in greeting. The compound's main road was a rough horseshoe around the manor and down the paddocks.
Mud squished under her boots. One could but guess how bad the orchards and paddocks were.
Looking around, the sheep were gone; hastily moved to higher ground. Dozens of rangers were raking and racking grain stalks, others in the animal stalls and barns, feeding out hay and maize, and milking the bellowing cows.
"Mydedis?" Eryndes frowned, "Do you know if anyone has seen to the flooding vegetable field?"
Mydedis followed her gaze to the left of the road as they walked along towards the orchard, "I haven't heard."
"The water is trapped, and the plants are swimming. We will need to dig a draining trench. Foruyndes? Would you mind coaxing a ranger from the field?"
"If I must," The old but sturdy woman peeled off from the group.
Ahead of them, Laeron, one of the youngest of the rangers led a horse and cart along the road towards the orchard. He smiled at their group, "I'm about to go on patrol but I thought I'd bring you ladies a cart before they're all taken."
Laeron was the youngest son of Úrion, who just like his father was a smooth-talking man of the womenfolk. He couldn't resist giving the women a bow and a wink before hurrying off.
Mereniel laughed, taking the reins and urged the horse further into the sludge that was the gateway into the orchard, "Glúdhwen's going to have her hands full with that boy."
Sali picked up her skirts and carefully waded her way through the deep mud with a spry absent in women thirty years her junior, "Come on then. Fear not the mud. The fruit won't pick itself."
Eryndes and a ranger close to Eryndes' age, Cordoves, aided the horse by adding their strength to pushing the cart through the mud.
They gained momentum, the wheels kicking up mud and water-
Abruptly, it stuck something hard. The horse and women strained, more of their group helping to push. Yet the cart refused to budge. Eryndes felt the mud around her touch her backside and she grumbled, "Laeron may have brought us the cart, but he could have stayed long enough to get it through gateway."
Cordoves beside her strained hard, her trousers also sunk down to her core. A battle-hardened ranger, she was much stronger than the other women, yet her efforts were in vain. "I think it's stuck on a rock." She knelt deep into the mud and unflinchingly dug her arm down in deep, feeling her way along the cart's wheel. "Oh, sod it." Cordoves looked up to them, "It's hit a rock and snapped the wheel. I think the wheel's rotted through."
"If we cannot get it out then it doesn't matter about there being any other carts to spare; we'd never get it in passed this one," Someone commented from behind Eryndes.
"Get up!" Mereniel urged the horse, "Come on, fella. Get up!"
The horse strained hard, the muscles in his powerful legs and hindquarters flexing and the cart shook but did not budge.
"Stop," Eryndes called, "Ease him. It is no use. It will have to be dug out."
"That'll take time."
"And we've still got a whole days' worth of butchering to get on with."
"Not to mention our normal duties."
"Or the flooding vegetable gardens."
"Ladies!" Sali called out.
Eryndes took a calmer approach. "Leave the cart. Cordoves? You, Mereniel, and I will return the horse and come back with all the pales we can find. The rest start picking."
"You want to lug the whole orchard with pales?"
"Cordoves, would you rather dig out the cart?"
Cordoves rolled her eyes, "I'd rather be on patrol instead of playing farm hand."
"You want to eat, oh mighty lieutenant?" Mereniel, a lower rank ranger snipped under her breath.
There was no love lost between those two.
Cordoves waded out of the worst of the mud, face hard. "You want to repeat that, ranger?"
Without word, Mereniel led the horse carefully back out to the road.
"Save your anger, Cordoves," Eryndes soothed, "We have buckets of fruit to haul and not enough hours. We are going to need our every strength."
Picking and carting fruit back to the manor lasted the whole morning long. It was slow, arduous work, and continued to drag on for endless hours. By eleven thirty, only half the orchard of plums and apricots were picked and carted by hand to the storeroom in the manor.
The morning patrols were already returning when the women made their last trudge back to the manor before stopping to put on lunch for everyone.
Passed the carpenter's workshop and blacksmith, a couple of the rangers spotted them and came striding.
"Thank you but I can manage," Eryndes told the young ranger. "Should you not offer your help to another who would welcome your assistance?"
The young horse-handler, Glavrol, glanced over at Erchel, the middle-aged ex-ranger and head teacher, hefting a single pale with her single remaining arm. "Ravonor, won't you take Erchel's?"
Stifling a retort, Eryndes saw both her pales taken from her and Glavrol marched off towards the manor.
The women sniggered from behind her. It was quite the hilarity for them, watching the young rangers trip over themselves and each other to aid the few unwed women of the manor.
Eryndes did not see the funny side of it however, "Ravonor, surely you can take another? You have two hands. And if your group has nothing better to do than getting under my feet, the rest of the fruit is currently set to rot in the orchard."
Ravonor looked deflated, "Of course." He took another pail full of plums from one of the other women and quickly went off in the same direction of Glavrol. She did not know if he would rally any others to help and she did not care.
At the very least, her tone had stopped the sniggering behind her.
Eryndes took both pails from one of the older women, Foruyndes, and shot an angry glare at her companions, "Bite your tongues."
Cordoves snorted, "Ravonor was just following Glavrol. You should save your anger for him."
"If he were to stand still long enough, I would."
Their group had not matched ten metres on with the fruit when Glavrol returned, closely followed by Ravonor, still smirking, and looking to match once again straight to Eryndes.
The attention of the young men was no reflection upon her, only attesting to state of things; the number of women amongst at Carthal Dúnedain was not half the number of men.
Eryndes was twice the age if not more than those two boys, yet to them she was a prize to fight over. Any unwed woman was a target for attention, whether they sought it or not. Most of the attention was more a game of one-upmanship between the men, trying to gain the attention of the women to the braying of their fellows.
And sometimes, they went further.
Just like now.
"Here they come again. We should go hunt orcs and send Eryndes's admirers to work the fields," Laughed Mereniel, who was always finding the humour in almost any situation.
The women laughed along with her.
Eryndes took in a deep breath, ready to dress down the two youths-
"Glavrol! Ravonor!"
Stopping, they all turned to see who'd yelled across the grounds.
It was Aragorn and his patrol on horseback, coming up fast from behind them.
Both Glavrol and Ravonor froze.
Aragorn brought his horse to a sharp halt beside the group of women. "Both of you report to Úrion. Do you not have duty?"
Both inclined their heads and quickly retreated in the direction of the main stables.
"Time for fraternising with my young rangers is reserved for after duty, sister," Aragorn teased, grinning down at her from a top of his horse.
"How fortunate, brother, my duty is never done." She glared at him, "And I do not fraternise."
Aragorn's smirk fell from his face. "No, of course not. I know that. Sorry, sister. A disrespectful joke."
With nothing more than a nod to his apology, she assumed her burdens and continued. She knew he hadn't meant any harm, but Nestdôl's words earlier and the young rangers shenanigans had her blood up.
Aragorn's horse come up beside her, "Why the pales? No cart?"
"We had one," She told him flatly, "but its wheel broke on a rock. All others were sequestered to for the hay and grain." She would have shrugged but for the heavy buckets weighing down her shoulders.
"I'll have some from this morning's patrol bring in the rest. Your group looks done in."
Her taciturn mood did little to stop the smile itching at her lips, "Thank you. Our schedule is far behind today. I am afraid lunch will be delayed regardless and we will be butchering to midnight."
"You better change before tackling lunch; you look like I just fished you out of the river."
Her eyes narrowed, "After which you took a bath in the pig wallow?"
Aragorn laughed heartily, taking a glance down at his sorry state, mud plastered down his clothes and horse, "Yes, we're all in a need of washing." He looked up to behind her, "Except for Sindar."
The momentum of her steps kept her moving, but her insides froze. She'd not seen he too was with Aragorn.
"Aglarebon knows to run around pig wallows," She heard the elf say. Swallowing, she chanced a glance behind her. He was soaked through from the rain as much as they all were, but as Aragorn had said, there was but a few small flecks of mud sullying his leather jerkin, face, and hair.
His face was as blank and emotionless as she'd seen him that morning.
Eryndes bitterly bit at her lip and did not offer a comment.
His horse, Aglarebon, however was keenly aware of her, or more precisely the contents of the buckets. His long white neck strained hard to reach out and smell the fruit piled high in the bucket in her right hand.
"You should go on in and get dry. We have a cart to dig out before coming in to begin lunch," she said to Aragorn, and jerked the bucket away from the horse; the stones in the plums being dangerous to horses.
In one quick smooth move, Sindar corrected his horse without uttering a sound. The horse stopped, for a moment.
But the temptation was too great and decided to risk his master's wrath for the prize.
"(Aglarebon)," Sindar growled under his breath, barely audible for her to hear.
The horse instantly pulled his head back and held down low in disgrace.
Eryndes would have chuckled at the horse's sulky behaviour if not for Sindar's cold regard.
"Sindar?" Aragorn beamed at his friend, "Will you please ask Lobordir to muster his patrol and bring in the rest of the fruit? Also, would you commence the debrief in my stead? I will join you shortly." Aragorn slid down from the saddle to join her on the ground, and smiled warmly at her, "I have a cart to dig out."
"Aragorn?" Eryndes returned his smile, "Thank you."
"What brother would I be if I allowed my own sister to wallow in mud while I bathed? Sindar?"
Eryndes looked back at the elf, who still sat on his horse with an eyebrow raised, "If you insist."
"Thank you. And have one of Lobordir's men come help me with the cart." He gave the reins to Sindar, who without further word led the patrol forward towards the main stables.
Aragorn and Eryndes left the rest of the women and headed back down the road.
"Your friend does not speak much. He seems miserable to be here."
"Have you spoken to him?"
Blinking in surprise, she looked up at him, "I spoke to him at the feast-"
"Amongst hundreds of strangers, in an overcrowded hall?" He gave her a stern look, "Do not be so quick to judge others."
Her eyes fell to the road. As much as she dearly loved him, he could strike her down to nothing more than a mere child. "I meant no offense."
"I'd have expected the two of you fast friends. Try a little harder, please? He's your guest as much as mine."
"I will."
"Good. Now we have something to discuss. You heard about yesterday's patrol?"
"I heard there was trouble."
"An orc we captured spoke of his master seeking the heir."
She halted, "Why? Why now?"
"And they believe here is where he will find me."
"Here! At Carthal?"
"That is what he said."
Eryndes searched his face, then looked around them, "You should consider remaining within the wall. Surely no orc spy can hope to see passed stone and our guard-towers."
"I cannot. You know that." He spoke with caution, "My reason for telling you is because there is a possibility, we have a conspirator for the enemy amongst us."
"I do not believe it. I refuse to believe any amongst us would betray you."
"Regardless of what you think, you must be vigilant. If you see anything suspicious-"
"You want me to spy on our own people?"
"No," he countered. "I want you to keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary."
He paused, and that was never a good sign. "And for you to be careful. Just - remain here at the manor."
"You want me to hide? But will not do the same?" Before he could answer, she continued, "If they don't know who the heir is, then there is no danger for either of us."
"Eryndes."
"Then you did not wish to discuss this with me at all. I am simply to listen and be silent?"
"It is my decision. You will remain behind the wall, unless accompanied by a ranger."
She opened her mouth to argue, say something, anything to change his mind. "Aragorn-"
He shook his head, and at once she knew he would not be swayed. "You should return inside and change before you become ill. I will attend the cart."
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she bowed her head. "As you wish," then snipped, "my lord."
"Eryndes," he called after her, but she was in a fit of temper She continued without pause back to the manor, her feet kicking at stones along the way.
Walking around the last corner to the manor, marked by the empty tables, rumble of chooks seeking shelter, and with the pigs snorting in delight, her steps gained pace.
Ahead, Aragorn's patrol was standing about, their horses nicking in impatience.
Sindar was picking a young ranger out of the mud. It was Glavrol, and the youth was cradling his arm.
Sindar's eye caught hers.
Quickening her pace, she hurried over to them. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You are hardly fine," Sindar rebuked, his voice so much deeper, more commanding. "Show her."
Glavrol held out his arm to her. Carefully, she retracted the sleeve to reveal the boy's arm. "Can you make a fist?"
Carefully, he tried and succeeded.
"Good. Now, turn your arm. Put your palm downwards."
He did, with effort.
"That is also good." There was no swelling, but the beginnings of a bruise. "How is the pain?"
"I don't feel any pain."
"Do not compound your actions by lying."
Sindar's sharp words jolted Glavrol to speak, "I mean, it's not as bad as it was."
"The pain is lessoned much or little?"
"Much."
Satisfied, she released his arm. "You have a badly bruised arm. It will hurt a few days but it is not broken. What happened?"
"I-" Glavrol's eyes dropped.
"Speak. Eyes up to your Mistress."
Sindar's subtle mark of respect, so trivial, sparked a flicker of light into her chest.
Glavrol's head rose. "I was being cocky around the horses. Laeron's mare kicked me and nearly knocked Laeron off."
Eryndes held the boy in a stare. "You are apprenticed to Lobordir," she tugged his sleeve back over his arm and gestured to the rangers gathered around to watch the happening. "You were chosen from dozens of eager young rangers."
"I know."
"To show disrespect to those of which are your very trade, and to tempt injury of a fellow?" She planted her hands on her hips, "How fortunate you are Lobordir is not here. What punishment would he dispense? More than a bruised arm, I would suspect."
The boy swallowed hard. "Yes, Mistress."
Mistress? That was a first.
"Go make your regrets to Laeron," She ordered, "then to the healing ward for a tonic."
"Tonic?"
Eryndes dared to look at the elf and answered his question. "Yes. For the pain."
He did not even nod. He stood there, that piercing silver eyed blink less stare upon her.
"Nay," Glavrol said, the youth's bravado returning, "I don't need it."
"Do as you are bidden," Sindar's growl was low, intimidating.
Glavrol cheeks reddened but he inclined his head to her.
Eryndes watched Glavrol march over to where Laeron was fussing over his mare.
"Thank you for your assistance." She tried to smile. "Glavrol is at a trying age."
His cool regard didn't change, and she feared he was offended somehow. "I did nothing warranting gratitude."
Around them the rain continued to fall, and Eryndes returned his icy stare. A tangle of mixed feelings confused her heart.
Finally, she came to a timely conclusion. Sindar did not like her. For all the sweetness of their first meeting, somehow now turned bitter.
And if he didn't like her, well, she wouldn't like him either.
Damn Aragorn's request she befriend him.
"As you wish. Excuse me." She shook her head and strode away from him as resolutely as the mud allowed her.
She might have heard him say something after her, or it might've been the wind and the rain.
Either way, she didn't stop.
A wail greeted Eryndes as she descended the stairs after changing her clothes.
A welcome wail. The cry of a newborn.
Unable to contain herself and beaming in delight, she picked up her skirts and hurried down the last steps. She darted along the corridor and through the doorway to the great hall-
Nearly running straight into Sindar. Skidding to a halt on the muddy floor, she quickly dodged him, avoiding his eyes, which were surely to be disapproving, and kept going with no little less haste.
Over by one of the fires there was a crowd. Eryndes coaxed her way through to see Yanmir holding a tiny baby in his arms.
Yanmir was the picture of a smitten, first-time father. "Eryndes," He greeted her, "Come meet my son."
Her heart melted seeing the boy's tiny little face, the little black hairs on his crown. She tore her eyes away to seek Gueniel. "Amdiel?"
"It was a trial, but she's doing well. A few days bedrest will see her right. She told Yanmir he better love this one, for there will be no more."
The crowd laughed lightly.
Eryndes itched to ask but held off. "There will be a toast tonight, in his honour. What is his name?"
"Brui."
"A fine name," she commended, her fingernails digging into the hems of her sleeves.
"For goodness sake, Yanmir," Gueniel cut in, "You are torturing her. Can she not have a hold?"
"Oh, yes, but of course," Yanmir chuckled, moving to her and eased his son into her arms.
Eryndes held the little boy close with practiced ease. "Yanmir, he is just perfect."
Carefully, she eased the blanket a little further from his face. He slept, the sound of his breathing so delicate. His tiny little nose begged for a kiss.
She resisted, though. Brui wasn't her baby to kiss.
Gently, she gave him a heft. "A good weight."
"And all his fingers and toes," Gueniel grinned, "A pair of lungs to wake the dead."
"Sindar certainly thought so," Yanmir chuckled, "He offered his congratulations and said the same, Brui's cry was to wake the dead. Seemed transfixed by the little tyke. His kind probably don't see many babies."
Eryndes kept her gaze on the sleeping boy. "Transfixed by a babe? Hard to believe."
"True, he was. Though he didn't want to hold him. Probably didn't know how and too proud to ask."
She could not imagine that elf tenderly holding an infant.
Yet, an image came to her mind. The tall elf cradling a newborn, his touch as gentle as a feather upon the child's cheek. Those cold silver eyes filled with the same besotted love she saw in Yanmir's.
Blinking, Eryndes roused herself. She returned Brui to his father. "Forgive me for keeping him passed my turn."
"Nonsense. Strider wanted to keep him. Told me I'd better watch him," Yanmir laughed in good nature, patting her arm with a free hand, "Are you off to see Amdiel?"
"Aye. Best I check her. No offense, Gueniel."
Gueniel rolled her eyes. "She is well but be my guest. Examine her. Just keep Nestdôl away. One minute alone with that loathsome man will set her recovery back weeks."
Yanmir laughed in agreement, then told Eryndes, "She slept so me and the babe went for a walk. She may have roused by now."
"I will be quiet." With a last stroke of the boy's soft head, she left.
By the hall's exit, Aragorn stood with Úrion and Sindar, and hailed her as she passed. "A little smitten there, sister?"
Eryndes edged passed them, eager to leave. "As I heard it, you did wish to give him back."
"I do love kids," He explained to his companions. "I hope for my own someday."
"Only do not thieve one."
Úrion snorted.
Aragorn shook his head with a grin, "Funny, melloneg."
The look on the elf's face was wry. It was the most reaction she'd seen since he'd come to Carthal.
"Going to see Amdiel?" Aragorn asked her, "I'll see her later. Tell her that."
She promised and hastily took her leave.
Lunchtime was a horrid affair. A dozen of the usual kitchen staff busied themselves carving meat and breaking into the cheeses, breads and ladling out preserved gherkin, cabbage, kale, carrot, pea, onion, and a few slices of preserved apricot and plum.
It was enough to feed their bellies but hardly the fare expected during the height of harvest. And when lunch concluded and Aragorn's ranger picking the rest of the fruit, the manor staff took a rest at one of the tables and take their long-awaited fill. The air in the hall had freshened after so many of the hot, sweaty, and wet folk left the great hall and gone about their duties.
The floor was a disaster. Eryndes looked at it with distain, "Perhaps we should have told them to remove their boots."
"Indeed?" Gueniel sniggered at her. "A little late now."
"Never mind," Advirien, one of the elder ladies from Mydedis' housekeeping placated, "I will have the children shovel out most of the mud and bring in old straw and saw dust."
"We'll need more than straw to begin butchering in here. To cover the tables, I mean."
"The old linen?" Eryndes tiredly suggested, staring out the windows at the pouring rain. "In the second level housekeepers cubby?"
"And ruin it?"
"It is already thread bare in some places and once we're done it can be boiled then torn for wound dressing."
Sali looked at Mydedis who nodded approvingly, "Very well."
"You still daydreaming of babies?"
With a jolt, Eryndes realised the question was for her. "Pardon? Oh, no. Though, who could blame me?"
After scattering straw and saw dust around the great hall, they threw over the old cloth before bringing out the sides of deer, beef, and pig, and got to work.
Each hour dragged.
At mid-afternoon, as they finished one song, Mydedis looked up suddenly and stared just passed Eryndes.
"Dear me, Sindar. You look half drowned."
Eryndes peeked around and found Sindar standing off to the side of them. Soaked to the bone, his attention directed to Mydedis.
"I do not cancel lessons because of bad weather,"
Mydedis smiled warmly at the elf, "Why not go upstairs and dry off? A fresh set of dons will make you feel better."
Sindar glimpse down at his wet clothes. "It is no bother. The rain set back your progress?"
"Oh yes," Mydedis exclaimed, "we've only half a day to do a whole days work. Fortunately the harvest is saved, along with the sheep and the vegetables and fruit and-." Mydedis chortled, "I won't bore you with the details."
Sindar intently watched Mydedis' knife as she worked, "I am not sure what I am able to offer, but I would help if I could."
The women at the table stopped, their task forgotten, all looking to the elf in disbelief.
Eryndes bore her glare at Mydedis. She should send him on his way. He was their guest, and more than that, he was a lord. Lord's did not dirty their hands helping with chores.
Her mother would be spinning in her grave.
"You wish to help us?" asked Sali.
"If there was something I was capable?"
If Mydedis wasn't going to refuse his offer, then she would. Eryndes opened her mouth-
"Don't you dare turn him away," Gueniel hissed at her side, "I want to see my pillow tonight."
"I must," Eryndes whispered back, "It is not right."
"Of course!" Mydedis waved him forward, "We always have room for another willing set of hands." She handed him a spare knife, "Have at it, Sindar."
Sindar took the knife with a foreboding look to his eyes.
"You haven't carved a beast before?" Mydedis asked.
"I can skin, gut and throw onto a fire any beast. However, butchering? Only once," he admitted, "and was petitioned never to try again."
The women laughed.
Eryndes looked at her companions and seethed. It wasn't that funny.
"It's easy," Mydedis encouraged, "Grab the bone like this, and run the blade through here, and then like this." Mydedis watched him take the forequarter and did as she instructed, "Yes that's right."
"You're a natural talent, Sindar," one of the other ladies commented.
"I am proficient with blades."
"Oh, without question."
"What skill you have."
Eryndes ground her teeth listening to them continue to praise him. Anyone would think he single handily took down the armies of Angmar with the butchers knife he held.
"Such skill learned by carving through living flesh."
She hadn't meant for him to hear her, but he did. The silver in his eyes flicked to her and she knew his superior elven ears heard her.
At least he did her the favour of not answering.
"Now, you have to sever the tendon through here, then slide the knife to take it off," Mydedis continued her lesson, "then through this side, use the blade at this angle, do you see? That will cut around the shoulder blade-"
Sindar was a quick student and in a couple minutes the women had him carving without supervision, only the occasional directive where needed.
Eryndes did note however, that when they began another song Sindar remained silent.
When the embers of dusk's falling sun began to fill the sky, they stopped their butchering for the day.
Even with Sindar's remarkable knife skills and quick hands, there was no way they could've caught up for the time lost that morning.
Eryndes shook her head against working after dinner. They would start afresh the next day.
Mydedis thanked Sindar appreciatively for his help, and while doing so, also firmly inviting him back tomorrow. If he wished.
He simply inclined his head and left.
The serving tables were laden with the evening meal, breads, cheeses, meat from the roasting pit, potatoes, and even some pumpkins and turnips. Men, women, and children ate heartedly. The hall was alive with their animated conversations, jokes, and general merriment.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
As promised, many drank deeply into the ale stores, opened freely in celebration of the birth of a new life.
Brui was toasted, so too was his mother, Amdiel.
Walking alone along the window side passed all the Dúnedain, she kept her eyes on her target.
Usually she sat with Gueniel, her childhood friend and confidant, but currently she was called away to yet another pregnant woman out on one of the farms still occupied during the festival.
It was fortunate however, for Eryndes had another dinner companion in mind.
She spotted him, sitting up the back of the hall at his usual table, the last table before the great window and the door to the kitchen.
She smiled seeing him just ahead. He was speaking happily and smiling to someone opposite him.
Dread filled her heart. Keeping her head down, she quickened her pace.
Surely if they saw her, they would assume her busy and on her way to the kitchen.
"Eryndes?"
She cringed. Opening her eyes, she faced Aragorn with a big smile befitting a brother and asked in her best polite tone, "Yes, can I get you something?"
Aragorn gave her a patient look, "Have you eaten yet? Come, join us." He held out his pipe and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
Keeping her smile with practiced ease, she refused, "Thank you but there is much to be done."
"Have you not done enough already today?" He swept his hand to his companion, "Sindar told me you were up long before dawn."
She could no longer avoid looking at him without being rude.
Turning to face them both, she could see his keen silver eyes watching her. "Indeed, I was. Nanmes was concerned about Naniel this morning. I was barely awake enough to realise the time," she told Aragorn, "Which is why once I finish up my duties, I will retire early."
Aragorn let out a noisy breath in exasperation, "You work too hard, Eryndes. Why not sit with us for a few minutes? Let someone else finish up."
Giving him an affectionate pat on his shoulder, she shook her head, "I am sorry, but I cannot. Duty is duty." Politely, she looked at Sindar then back to Aragorn, "Good night."
Without waiting for a reply Eryndes walked away, keeping her walk casual until she reached the kitchen and the closed of the kitchen door behind her.
In the kitchen she free from her necessary civility and scowled in what she knew was petty jealousy. Knowing it didn't dissolve it. Her brother had so little time and so much of it was recently taken up by another.
At least alone in the kitchen offered her freedom from the eyes of so many and their expectations of her and tiredly she rubbed her face and scowled again.
She sighed and moved away from the door. She hadn't lied when she said there was still much work to be done.
Duty and manners, this was her life.
"Are you avoiding me?"
Across the third-floor landing, Eryndes jumped.
For ten minutes he'd waited for her to climb the stairs to her bedchamber. This time of night the third floor was quiet and the stairs empty.
Perfect place for a conversation
"Aragorn? You scared me," She admonished him, walking closer. He saw the fatigue in her face, more than he'd seen at dinner.
She needed her bed.
"Are you avoiding me?" Aragorn repeated, this time gentler.
"Of course not." Eryndes rubbed her eyes, "Forgive me, brother. It has been a long day."
Placing both hands on her shoulders, Aragorn was adamant. "We haven't spoken at length for some time, and lately we seem to be making a habit of being at odds."
"I am sorry."
He lifted his chin, "You were going to say it's my fault?"
Colour rose in her cheeks.
"Can you not see? I am concerned for you. You do nothing but work."
"This is the busiest time of year, as it always has been." Then she added quietly, "and now with nothing to do but remain here and attend my duties."
"I am looking to your protection. That is 'my' duty. You will not even carry a weapon-"
"Because someone will expect I know how to use one."
"This curfew I placed upon you will not last," Aragorn soothed. "We will discover soon if there is any danger. Until then time, I need you safe. I need you to remain behind the walls."
He saw the argument in her eyes, but Aragorn knew she would not disobey, "Very well."
"You have been avoiding me."
"No- I- we've been very busy."
"Aye, but we have always managed to find time to speak."
"You do mean in the years that you are here?"
Aragorn sighed, "Eryndes."
Her eyes fell from his and breathed in deeply, "I am sorry."
"Look at me," Aragorn whispered.
She did as asked.
"My attentions have always been split between here and with the rangers to the south. That is nothing new." He threaded a lock of her hair behind her ear and implored, "Tell me what is truly bothering you?"
Swallowing, she looked away from him. Her eyes were heavy, her body was tense. "Every year passes here without change," she sighed regretfully. "The only thing I can look forward to is when you are with us." She hesitated, "This year there are others with whom I must share your attentions."
Legolas.
For the second time that day she'd mentioned him, and not with affinity. Somehow, he was the issue.
"I spend time with my friends, as you do yours. But that's never stopped you from joining our company. Úrion, Joust and the others you have no issue with. Why do you have issue with Sindar?"
Her face screwed up, "Because unlike Úrion and Joust, he is not welcoming of my company."
Aragorn chuckled and shook his head, "Sindar's been my friend well before you were born. He is honour-brother to me as you are my sister. He'd never turn you away."
"He does not like me. He does not wish to be friendly with me."
His smile fell. "I don't believe that is so. He spoke of your first meeting, and praised your welcome, your generosity."
"The elf I met that day is not the same as the one who resides here, who is called Sindar."
"Not the same, sister? Explain your meaning."
"The elf I met was good natured, polite and humorous. This 'Sindar' shows none of those qualities."
"I think you're being unfair. He can be moody; he inherits it from his father-"
"It is more than moody."
"Have you considered he's never been surrounded by so many of our kind before? This is all foreign to him. Be patient with him. Swear to me you will try?"
"Brother, please," she begged, "Do not bid me."
His smile dropped. "Whatever set you have taken against him-"
"It is he who is set against me."
Dropping his hands from her shoulders, he crossed them over his chest. "What has he done to earn this low opinion?"
When she didn't immediately answer, he continued, "Has he shown you disrespect?"
"Well, no."
"Then what?"
"He is friendly with everyone else but not me. I have not received one kind word or look since he arrived. He looks at me like my presence is an irritation."
A gush of guilt spilled into Aragorn's stomach. "Is that so? Do you know why?"
"Nay."
He took a moment to consider before speaking. "Why don't you find out?"
"But-"
"If he is as you say he is, what's the harm? You come to me with his confession of dislike, and I will release you from this task."
He saw the battle behind her eyes and waited.
"If that is your wish," she finally submitted.
Aragorn studied her then chortled a little. "I think you'll find he'd be ashamed to know how little you think of him. You should trust in me. I swore kinship to my dearest friend, a challenging temperament I'll admit, but you'll find no greater heart. Or any half as honourable."
His fingers touched her chin, urging her to look at him, "He's worthy of your esteem."
"And I his?"
He searched her face. "Do not fear a defensive disposition. There often are very real reasons behind it. Think more of what must lie beneath that requires so much protection."
"But how am I-?"
He bent low to match her eye level and spoke hushed, confiding in her a valuable secret. "Show no him fear, sister, and watch his guard crumble. If you think he's being disagreeable, tell him and see what happens."
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and gestured to the hallway, "Now, to bed. I have kept you from rest long enough."
Mutely, she nodded and moved off towards her room.
"Eryndes?"
She stopped and looked at him.
"Good night."
Her answering smile was tired, but genuine. "Good night, brother."