Revision uploaded November 2022
Songs:
The Soft Goodbye - Written by David Downes - Performance likened to 'Celtic Women'
Over the Rainbow - Written by E.Y. Harburg - Performance likened to Chloe Agnew.
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
PART 1
Eryndes finished her nightly walk around the compound and returned to the warmth of the manor. Heading for the great hall, she intended to say her 'good nights' and retire.
Entering the great hall, she spied Gueniel sitting alone in one of the lounges in front of the fireplace at the other end of the hall and headed that way.
The bellow of a deep horn ceased her steps.
She frowned. That was the warning horn. A horn to summon the rangers to readiness.
Outside from the embarkation loop came lot of shouting. The folk inside made for the doors.
Eryndes went to go follow them and threaded her way through the crowd to the hallway.
"Eryndes." A deep voice echoed through the hall, and a grave faced Sindar strode over to her from the main doors.
"Do you know the whereabouts of Aith, Glûdh, Parf or Morgulchon?"
His bow, his two white handled knives and arrows, all noticeably stood up from his back. She shook her head, "No, not since yesterday. Many returned home to see to their crops because of the turbulent weather."
"I see," he grumbled before moving away and continuing in his haste.
Sindar was armed. Armed, grim faced and looking for Aith, Glûdh, Parf or Morgulchon; four healers who were also rangers.
The only healers to also be rangers.
"Master Elf?" Eryndes darted after him as fast as her skirts allowed.
He stopped and waited for her to catch up, his silvery eyes guarded.
"Please," she implored him, "something has happened?"
"Indeed," he confirmed briskly and moved to continue his way.
She opened her mouth to stop him-
"Orcs raided a farm in the north," he turned back to answer her unasked question, "One of the children escaped on horseback to raise the alarm."
"Which farm?"
He looked away. "I do not know."
"You are going there now?"
"Yes now."
"Who will you take instead?"
Sindar's expression did not change, "I will find Nestdôl-"
"Nestdôl? Nestdôl is old."
But the blank look on his face made it clear he didn't understand.
"Old, Master Elf, so old he can no longer ride a horse passed a swift dawdle. His bones cannot take it. Unless you plan on putting him in a wagon-"
"Tell me who?"
Eryndes opened her mouth and deflated with a deep, despairing sigh; all the names she might have said, there was only one choice.
"I will come with you."
Even as she spoke, a cold, sharp stab of fear struck her heart. An orc raid in the dead of night never a place she wanted to be.
In her mind a pair of horrid black eyes and rotten teeth rose in front of her to slash a blunt dagger across her throat.
Crawling out from under the horrible vision, she stood before Sindar, who studied her with disapproval, "You are no warrior."
"I am a swift rider," Eryndes said against her sudden bout of nausea. She squeezed her hands at her sides to stop them from trembling. "I have gone with the rangers before."
He started to shake his head, "Aragorn is capable-"
"But is one man and may need help if there are wounded," she finished, fighting to keep her voice from quivering. "Is this not why you were looking for the others?"
His regard turned thoughtful, and two small creases appeared between his dark brows. "I would prefer two healers who both carry swords."
Eryndes could accept his dismissal, using his decision to free her from this terrible duty. Her honour would not. "Will you take a slower saddle or continue to search for a healer to carry a sword?"
He let out a low, long breath. "Prepare to leave immediately. Dress warmly, it is an hour's hard gallop."
Sindar left her quickly.
An hour's gallop into the north narrowed down the numbers of farms, whilst still leaving ten or so to choose from.
By the time she'd hastily secured her cloak and looped her satchel on to her back, those on stable duty saddled her horse and waited on her.
Banjo stood amongst thirty or so warhorses, and though standing a good two hands shorter, he looked as equally ready and willing as his fellows.
Tugging on her leather gloves, she hurried over to him.
Aragorn stood with his horse next to Banjo and behind him Sindar moved to his tall grey whose pure white hair stood stark to the late evening darkness.
Eryndes pulled herself up into her saddle aware her brother watched her.
With a sick feeling in her stomach, she focused on settling in the saddle, avoiding meeting anyone's gaze, busing herself by checking her boots in her stirrups and ensuring her satchel and cloak were secure.
Sindar climbed onto his horse. "Eryndes, ride behind Aragorn or I. Keep to our wake. The rangers will ride around you. On no account deviate or leave our side. We do not know if we ride to rescue or ambush."
Taking in the sight of him, armed and poised, no different than a tradesman attending his trade, Eryndes found courage. "I understand."
"Eryndes, remain with Sindar and me. Do not fall behind," Aragorn growled at her, jumping up onto his own saddle and pulling his horse to face the gate and road beyond. "Rangers! Move out!"
Sindar was already three horse lengths ahead of them before Aragorn urged his horse forward. Banjo, not accustomed to the quick set off was languid to keep up with the others. But at her quick urging, he quickly gained momentum in his feet and made up the distance in short order.
They were lucky; had they'd been setting off from the main road, both her and Banjo would've been left far behind. Leaving off from the embarkation circle of the manor in a good number meant they would not move into full gallop until they'd cleared the main gate, some four hundred metres away.
Setting in behind Aragorn, who'd by this time already caught up to the elven horse; Eryndes forced ease into her muscles. With an hour to go before they'd even arrive, it was imperative to keep her and Banjo at as much ease as possible.
They may well need their strength later.
The hot, sweltering night air of just a couple of days ago had long gone, and the air was as freezing. Riding hard with the air whipping around her, Eryndes' face burned with cold, tears streamed from her stinging eyes, and she was thankful for the leather gloves protecting her fingers from the numbing air.
And Banjo, though not bred for war, ran admirably. For an aged horse, he remained strong and Eryndes would proudly bet his stamina to be just as stubborn as any of the others surrounding them.
Ahead of her a black and a white horse tore along the road, each rider in complete harmony with his horse. Perhaps she would not wager against the stamina of the elf's horse if the rumours were to be believed. Watching the white horse thunder along, his long easy gallant strides like poetry was a sight to be beheld. Even in the darkness.
And dark it was.
The thunder of thirty odd horses galloping at speed rang an almost rhythmic melody in her ears, soothing against the turmoil twisting and contorting in her heart and belly.
She volunteered to come along. Not because she wanted to appease Sindar and make good on her promise to Aragorn, or because secretly she thirst for the thrill of danger. No, it was because unfortunate situations like this called upon healers to attend.
Fuieryn's lectures echoed in vibrant memory.
How she wished one of the healer-rangers returned from their homes earlier. Her face screwed trying to force away the thoughts of orcs, stinking of rot, cackling with unimaginable evil intent, lunging at her from the darkness.
Squeezing her fingers around the reins, she looked at Aragorn. He was so strong, so brave. If only they were more than siblings of honour, if her blood were of the same make as his. Perhaps then she would not suffer this cowardice in the face of danger.
Eventually, Sindar and Aragorn slowed their pace. They stopped atop a crest and even without the light of day, Eryndes knew there was a small path bleeding off to the right and followed the descent of the hill to a good-sized homestead.
Eryndes' heart sank. The small road led to Amdirbarad and Langwen's farm.
"Quiet," Aragorn shushed the silent rangers.
Sindar, though, shook his head solemnly.
Aragorn slumped in his saddle. "Do they linger?"
"We should be cautious and not remain long. I cannot guarantee they do not hide at short distance in wait for us."
"Joust?" Aragorn called quietly, "take your troop and secure this side of the ridge line. Rest of you, follow us in. Ready arms. No noise." He pulled out his sword, his eyes flicking at Eryndes.
Sindar didn't have a sword, nor did he draw his blades. He did not even pull his bow from his back. What did that mean? Was he so confident? Or was his belief in his powers of observation so trustworthy?
Biting her cheek, she pushed Banjo on to follow Aragorn and Sindar as they lead the fifteen rangers onwards and down the small track towards the farmhouse. Silently, Eryndes searched the darkness, a bead of sweat trickling down her spine.
The house came into her view, eerie, nothing looking amiss. Smoke gently puffed out the chimney, and a soft glow from the hearth peeked through the shutters.
Everything seemed normal.
Then the door came into view; lying in the dirt, ripped clean off its hinges, flooding the outside with more firelight.
"Clear?"
"Clear," Sindar answered Aragorn.
"Sírdhem? Baradon? Torches."
Obeying, small flames burst into the darkness, followed by bursts of golden light.
On the ground she could see a trail, like something or someone had been dragged.
Aragorn and Sindar dismounted swiftly. "Six of you, secure around the house and barn. Rest of you, check for signs of the family." Aragorn looked to her, "Eryndes, you stay with us." Obediently she got down from her horse and moved to Aragorn's side.
Sindar, she noted, edged in closer to them, "Surprise attack. These people were caught unawares."
Aragorn nodded. Eryndes frowned but held her tongue. Rangers could read tracks in the dirt and the disarray of a skirmish like a children's storybook and undoubtedly elves were just as adept.
They need not waste time explaining it to her; she did not need to know.
"The orcs tried to take them alive."
"Yes," Sindar agreed, "They were not successful."
"Strider. Sindar."
Aragorn took Eryndes' elbow and the three of them followed the voice.
Three rangers stood near the barn, their horses with them, and as they approached them, one of them pointed, "There. And looks like the rest over there."
"I will check this one," she told Aragorn. Aragorn pointed to three of the rangers and gestured to her. When they nodded, he went with Sindar to check the others.
Clenching her jaw shut, Eryndes carefully made her way over to the forlorn figure lying face down in the grass and straw. A woman, her blood moistening the straw and dirt, her dress ripped and torn.
Kneeling beside her and taking a deep, fortifying breath, she carefully took a hold of the woman's shoulder.
And gently pulled back.
Rolling over, the body gave up its identity and she bit down hard the need to cry.
"Well?" one of the rangers, Sírdhem, demanded.
Easing the pressure on her jaw Eryndes choked, "Langwen." Her eyes twitched but she refused to weep.
Though the cut across Langwen's throat left little doubt, she checked for a pulse regardless.
Her heart was silent.
With a trembling hand Eryndes reached over and closed her friend's glazed, lifeless eyes.
Squeezing her own eyes shut for a moment, she opened them again and did her duty.
"A light?" she called.
Sírdhem came closer holding his small burning torch. There were deep, coarse slashes to her arms, legs and . . . one of her hands was missing and there were bite marks to the wounds on her shoulders and chest. "She is dead." Swallowing, she stood up and faced them, "A slash to her throat. But . . . then, mutilated by orc weapons." Or at least that is the order she hoped, evidenced by the lack of defensive wounds to her . . . remaining hand and the relatively small amount of blood. "Then gnawed."
Aragorn, she saw already returned to stand with the three rangers. He closed his eyes then pointed to the orc bodies lying just as silently as Langwen, "Looks though she took out a dozen of them." He paused, "We found Amdirbarad and the two girls."
"The girls?" she asked with bated breath.
"Died at arms."
A small mercy. Gundabad Orcs were well known for their taste for defiling women and children in the most heinous, unspeakably ways. The girls' deaths were tragic, but they were at least spared the torment of living for the sport of orcs.
Eryndes looked across to three of the rangers, "Please, we will need to get them onto the horses." They nodded and came forward to do their unfortunate duty.
"What of the little boy?" she came to stand next to Aragorn. "What of Amarthedhel?"
"There's no sign of him."
His pause left her hollow, and she grasped his shoulder to stop him moving away, "He could be hiding-"
"We need to re-join the others."
"You know what orcs do to children!" She fought back the memories of the bodies of children left to an orc's mercy.
"Eryndes," Aragorn took her hand from his shoulder, "we cannot stay here. These tracks are fresh, and their number is great. Too great. We must wait for sunrise to mount a search."
"They were searching for the child," Sindar offered, coming around to where they were standing. "We found no evidence he is taken."
Eryndes looked at him, a lifeline to save the boy, "Yes, he could still be alive. We must search for him."
"We don't have the numbers to remain," Aragorn shook his head, "And if the orcs failed to find the boy-"
"But he does not hide from us! He only needs to realise it is us, that it is safe to come out." Thinking only of the four-year-old child, she brushed off his hand and ran over to the edge of the bushes.
She was about to call out the boy's name when her shoulder was grabbed hard from behind.
"Eryndes!" Aragorn snapped in her face. "Have you lost all sense?"
The sheer fierceness of his regard left her shaking.
"Remain here with the others," he ordered, then looked to the elf, "Sindar and I will search for the boy."
She chanced a glance at his face, to thank him. The fierceness she'd not seen before remained and she held her tongue.
"Remain here," He ordered before speaking to the rangers, "Remain vigilant."
"Yes, Strider," one answered.
Backtracking to the horses and the other rangers, she found they'd finished securing the four bodies onto the shoulders of their horses.
After a few minutes, they heard a loud cry.
Eryndes looked to one of the rangers, Úan, she recognised him, "Should you not follow them?"
"Shhh," Úan hushed.
"Remain silent," Sírdhem commanded hotly.
The third ranger, young Laeron, came to her side, and spoke gently, "Just a startled fox. They will call if they need us. But for now, we must be silent."
Eryndes returned her eyes to the darkness surrounding them with no small amount of trepidation.
A hand touched her arm.
Laeron looked upon her kindly, "Don't worry, Strider and Sindar can take care of themselves."
Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she nodded.
For what seemed an eternity, they stood silently together, the rangers standing ready with their blades drawn and axes at the ready. Young Laeron, she saw, edged around her so she was now encircled by them.
Waiting, her breath far too loud to her own ears she fidgeted with the hem of her cloak and tried to be calm. Her mind tormented her with the vision of orcs slashing, laughing cruelly, waving blades and sticks.
A girl screamed.
Blinking, Eryndes looked up at Laeron and the others. But they didn't react. The scream had been in her head?
The horses stood as silent as their masters, ears pricked and eyes keen. Sindar's great elven stallion stood tall above his companions, his eyes seeking out into the darkness.
The noise of a bush rustling turned her, and she breathed a sigh of relief to see Aragorn striding quickly back into the light.
With the boy in his arms.
He brought him over to them and laid him gently on the ground.
The boy's clothes were torn, and he was covered in blood. Red blood.
"Injuries?" she whispered urgently, taking off her gloves.
"I don't know," he answered, and both hastily searched for broken bones or bleeding. "His arm is broken. Cuts, abrasions but-"
"It is not his blood," she agreed, "Not this much from a few cuts. Must be from one of the others?"
"His brother was struck with a dagger as he fled."
"Help me hold his eye open."
Aragorn pulled back the boy's left eyelid, "Úan? The light?"
Úan moved in closer to them to shine the light from the flaming torch onto the boy's face.
"Reaction," Aragorn stated approvingly.
Pressing her fingers to the boy's throat, "Heartbeat is strong and paced. Passed out from the pain?" She reached for the clasp to her cloak.
"Or terror."
From her satchel she pulled out a small splint and bandage, "If he awakens, we'll have to force sedative down his throat if we are to gallop home."
"Let us hope he does not," Aragorn agreed as she held the boy's arm steady for him to quickly secure the splint.
"Strider?" one of the rangers called, "Should we not make haste?"
"I will carry him," Aragorn said, "Sindar will cover our retreat."
Eryndes was already wrapping the boy in her cloak, "I will carry him."
"You will not."
She carefully reasoned, "And if swords are needed? Will you have time to pass him to me?"
For a heartbeat he ground his teeth. "Get on your horse."
Swiftly as she could, Eryndes jumped up into Banjo's saddle and helped Aragorn settle the boy into her arms who was only now starting to fuss. "Aragorn?"
He helped get the sedative vial from her bag.
"Amarthedhel?" She whispered, "swallow, you hear me? Swallow," she poured a little trickle into his mouth and obediently the boy swallowed.
She pressed his face against her chest and whispered a soft shush, readjusting her cloak around him. "Quite now, Amarthedhel, you are safe. Remain still."
Aragorn turned back towards the darkness when a sharp click was heard. "Sindar says we are clear," he told the rangers, "We go now. The others will rejoint us when they see us leave. Eryndes, you ride in the middle. Do not stop."
She nodded wrapping her arms around the boy but then looked out towards the darkness where Sindar was still unseen.
"Do not concern yourself," Aragorn snapped, "He will follow."
Guiltily she faced forward again, swallowing against the sting of his tone. Aragorn mounted and more of the rangers re-joined them.
A small but sharp whistle cut into the darkness and the elven stallion's ear pricked up and he went charging off into the night.
"Make haste, we do not stop until Carthal," Aragorn ordered, "Go!"
The now dozen rangers urged their horses into a united flight, Eryndes pushing Banjo hard to keep up just behind those in the front of the circle and maintaining a tight formation.
Wrapping her arms tightly around the boy, she could not see much of anything. She did hear the other half, Lobordir's group, re-join them when they reached the crest of the hill overlooking Langwen's family home.
Minutes passed into their hard ride when a white blur thundered passed the circle of riders and took the place at the head of the company; undoubtedly where elf's eyes were of use, guiding the rangers home in the blackness of night.
The cold air grew harsher the longer they rode. Eryndes bit her lip to stop from trembling, her hands shaking, desperately grasping Banjo's reins and pleading her grip not to fail.
Then a cold spot landed on her back.
Then another. Then one on her head and soon the air was filled with falling drops of icy cold rain. The road quickly turned to mud, the horses in front of her flicking it up and into her face, blinding her eyes.
Yet Banjo ran true.
Something hit her leg, like a small tap. She looked down but saw nothing, just more rain.
Another tap to her arm. Looking out ahead, she could see the rain turned to hail.
The rain ceased with the wind picking up, blowing freezing air across the group of galloping Dúnedain.
After what seemed an eternity, Eryndes started to feel warm. Soon after she felt hot, her brow and her fingers burning. In her boots, it felt like her feet were sweating.
Pushing everything else from her mind, she focused on nothing but holding on, onto the boy, onto Banjo, onto the blur of the white horse ahead of them.
Finally, she could see Sindar turn, leading them to the turn off and down the long road to the manor. Lights broke through the blackness and in her relief, she could feel her face wet from wind in her eyes.
Coming to a harsh stop, the company pulled their horses away from the front to allow her and Aragorn through. However, Eryndes found she could not move; her vision tunnelled, her hearing distorted and it was fortunate Banjo stopped of his own accord at the back of the group.
She blinked away the haze settling over her suddenly heavy eyes.
"Nestdôl!" Aragorn called out loudly, dropping down at once from his horse and coming to her side. "Give him to me," he said after a moment.
She tried to move, truly she did but her burning hands would not let go of the reins and her mouth would not open to speak. Her eyes closed again, and she felt herself sway.
"She is out!" A voice yelled.
That was amusing. What was she out of?
"Secure her or she will fall!" Hearing Sindar's deep, commanding voice she opened her eyes briefly. Her head swam in fog and blurry figures and lights filled her vision.
The little bundle of boy was snatched away from her, and she felt the grasp of a hand on her thigh.
"Bring me a step!" Aragorn shouted from beside her. She felt rather than saw him begin gently prying her hands off Banjo's reins.
"What happened to your gloves?" Aragorn demanded and her eyes opened once more.
He stepped away and was back beside her horse, but this time higher. "Come," She heard Aragorn bade her gently, his arm reaching around her waist, his strong arms pulling her from the saddle. "An hour by the fire and you will feel yourself again."
She felt herself being passed on to someone and then passed again, back into Aragorn's arms she thought by the smell of pipeweed.
Then she thought no more.
Eryndes opened her eyes, then flinching, she battered her eyes to become accustomed to the bright light coming from the fire.
A warm wet cloth passed over her face, the warmth refreshing.
"Sister, you are filthy."
"Aragorn," she pulled herself upright. She was in wet clothes but warm, finding she sat in an armchair by one of the fireplaces in the great hall. Aragorn stood towering before her. "Amarthedhel?"
"He is with Nestdôl now."
She exhaled in relief.
"Did you see it?"
"Did I see it?" she gasped, her chest tightening, wishing he would step away to allow her to stand.
He didn't and maintained his position towering over her. "Just answer the question," Aragorn demanded, "Is that why you came along?"
"No."
He waited.
"Just fear. In my dreams . . . and waking dreams," she shook her head, "It is just my fear. I saw no premonition."
Aragorn didn't relent.
"Aragorn, I swear it."
"What was this fear you saw?"
"It was nothing. Orcs, orcs with knives, axes, sticks, coming out from the darkness. A girl screamed. Nothing more." She looked down, "I am not Fuieryn."
"Don't speak like that!" he snapped, then shook his head. "Please don't speak like that. I would never desire her here instead of you." She felt his hand take her shoulder, "Sindar was wrong to bring you along."
Fists balling, her head snapped up to face him, "He did not bring me. I offered, as was my duty. There was no other."
"No other? There are fourteen healers."
"-and none of those present were able to endure the hour-long ride. And what of the boy? Would you have thought to look for him had I not?"
"Be that as it may, Eryndes, you are not a ranger and cannot recklessly head into dangerous situations."
"I was being reckless?"
"You were when you took off to search by yourself, unarmed, unescorted. You have no mind for danger. Of what might've hidden in the dark."
"I have gone a half dozen times with the rangers," she told him tartly, "I have tended battle wounds with the enemy nut half a league away. Just because you have returned, suddenly this world in which I live is too dangerous for me?"
He walked next to the fire, his back to her, not responding for a long time. "You left your gloves; you gave up your cloak."
"For the boy!"
"And you are not accustomed to long hard rides at freezing temperatures. What if you had fainted earlier? What if you had have fallen off? Dropping not only yourself but also the boy to the ground in front of warhorses trained not to stop once hard in flight?"
"Yet I did not."
She felt him take her chin, "I've never doubted your heart. But if you wish to be a ranger, then you first must learn to become a warrior." His eyes narrowed, "And I know that's not what your mother would have wanted. I know it's not what you want."
"My only wish is to do my duty," she swiped his grasp from her chin, "to do what my family's honour requires of me. You needed a second healer-"
"Next time, help by remaining here!" Aragorn pulled away, turning not only his face but also his body from her.
"So, I am to stay confined within these walls? Continue to watch my friends, my people die and do nothing. To sit here and wait for the day we are finally overrun?"
"Eryndes-"
"The boy is fine," Nestdôl's voice cut in from above her. "His arm isn't a bad break and will heal in time."
"And what of his brother?" Aragorn asked him, calm once more.
"I've stitched the wound. Time will judge, not us."
"And what of Amarthedhel? His mind?"
Nestdôl looked down at her, "He will not speak with the amount of sedative in his blood."
"He bore witness to it all," her heart ached for him. Turning back to the fire, she ignored the two men until Nestdôl and Aragorn left together.
For a long time, she sat there unmoving, rarely blinking, simply staring into the flames. She was wet and filthy. Yet moving seemed impossible.
"How fares the child?"
Eryndes looked up and fought to regain her voice. "His body is sound," she whispered, looking back to the fire, "but his mind after all he witnessed? With the loss of his family?"
"Are you well?"
"Yes," she answered simply, "I passed out from the cold. Seems I was ill-fit to go after all."
"Or next time consider taking a second cloak," his words were emphatic and moving closer to her side, a blanket held out to her.
Eryndes felt her face soften. "Thank you," she said, wrapping it around her shoulders.
"You were brave tonight," Sindar announced quietly after a pause. "Do not taint worthy actions with second guesses and hindsight."
Her breath caught in her throat; she lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Aragorn would not agree," she finally said, in her astonishment she'd no idea of what else to say. "He said I was reckless."
"Indeed; you were reckless. Foolish." A small twitch touched the corner of his mouth. "However, that does not diminish the courage you showed."
Eryndes felt a flush creep up her neck and face and had no idea how to respond.
Sindar did not wait for her anyway, "Should you not rest abed?"
"In a little while."
He looked ready to leave, his gaze shifting to look around at something across the way. "The lost family occupies your mind?"
The question came as a surprise and Eryndes took a moment to answer. "Each one of us has lost family and friends. None are untouched by grief. We force ourselves to quickly accept the loss and move on."
Sindar paused a moment before stating, "Yet your mind is occupied."
Eryndes found the fire easier to behold than the intensity of Sindar's probing silver blink-less eyes.
"Speak, if you will."
She closed her eyes in her misery with a soft sigh, "Year after year, nothing changes. Here we remain, keeping evil at bay at the cost of our lives; man, woman and child." Opening her eyes, she told him, "Nothing ever changes except the names of those slain."
Like a slap in the face, she remembered to whom she was speaking. "I am sorry."
Keeping the blanket secure to hide her sodden clothes, she rose to her feet.
Sindar blocked her path and did not move to allow her to pass. Nor did he move to increase the distance between them.
Those blink-less grey eyes shone vividly in the tones of the firelight, his closeness striking plainly at the difference in their height. Every hair on her arms stood on end.
"For what do you desire forgiveness this time?"
"I am, speaking . . . too much."
"Do you also consider me insensitive to the plight of your people?"
"Nay. That is to say, I never thought-," moistening her lips, she tried desperately to recover her wits. "I meant complaining gains nothing and is tiresome to hear."
"Scarcely tiresome when I asked after your thoughts."
"My thoughts," she clutched the blanket tighter around her, "are unchecked. I would not wish to burden anyone with them, nor for anyone to take heed of them."
"Unchecked thoughts are often truths we fail to recognise, for pride, for shame, for regret. I am sorry for your unhappiness."
His commiseration, so carefully spoken and unexpectedly gentle, Eryndes could forgive him a thousand harsh words.
"It is late," he conceded finally, "and you are grieved and weary. Perhaps in the new day, your spirits will have returned to you."
Eryndes' mouth opened to speak-
"I will not keep you any further. Good night, Eryndes."
Mouth still ajar, she watched him walk away.
Everything had been set and ready for the past hour. The Dúnedain were unfortunately well practiced for this sort of gathering.
However, the rangers . . .
Eryndes looked up at the ceiling and for probably the tenth time.
"They still speak?"
She sighed and nodded, "I fear they have much to discuss."
If it were possible, Eryndes swore she could hear her friend's glare piercing up through the ceiling and into the war-room.
"Do they not realise it's disrespectful to keep the dead waiting?"
Eryndes brushed past Gueniel to reshuffle the flowers laid out on the tribune. For the fifth time, "They know."
Sali scoffed from over where she was placing more flowers around the tables, "Perhaps they'd do with a stern reminder?"
"Are you offering to be the messenger?" Gueniel bit out.
The eldest woman raised her chin, "I'm busy doing my work. Why don't you volunteer?"
"I have been working since dawn!"
"Ladies," Mydedis cautioned from the other side of the hall, "do not argue in front of the dead."
Eryndes looked up over the tribune, herbs and flowers laid out respectfully in honour of the four prone bodies on wooden stretchers.
Feeling her grief threatening, she looked pleadingly once more to the ceiling. It was wrong to make them wait.
Breathing in deeply, her tired face and muscles tensed in conflict, but it had to be done. "Sali? Mydedis? It is time. Let everyone in. I will see if I can summon the rangers."
"But you never go in there," Sali reminded her unnecessarily.
"I know."
Taking the two flights of stairs at a decent pace, she felt if they didn't release their latest dead from this world, there may be even more apparitions to haunt the manor.
Reaching the third level, she could already hear the voices of the discussion in the long room which took up a quarter of the floor.
"We must repay them! We must seek vengeance for the blood spilt!"
"How?" Úrion's voice called out and the room fell silent, "by sacrificing more blood on a fool's venture?"
Taking a long, deep breath, Eryndes eased herself into the room.
"Eryndes?"
She opened her eyes she hadn't realised she'd closed. There were no apparitions, but she did see a couple hundred rangers, men and women, crowding into the room.
The one looking at her, young Laeron, came to stand in front of her, "You're in the war-room."
"I realise."
"Why?"
"Can you please ask them to hurry up? The dead are waiting." She inched back towards the door.
Laeron nodded in understanding, following her, "The rangers are in disagreement."
"We must fight back!" Near them someone yelled.
Laeron waved towards the crowd, "As you can hear."
Eryndes looked around them, everywhere rangers were arguing amongst themselves, "But we cannot make them wait."
"The enemy will learn we won't be taken down like this!"
"We demand vengeance for our slain!"
Laeron nodded, "We can try to get Strider's attention. Or my father's." He took her hand, "Come."
"Nay, Laeron."
"We cannot yell over this crowd, they won't hear us," he told her, pulling her through the mass of people.
"The battle must be taken to them. How long will we sit here waiting for them to pick us off, one family at a time?"
"We should wait," Eryndes called out at Laeron.
Laeron smiled back at her reassuringly, "Nay, it's fine. Come."
"I will tear those orc beasts apart with my own hands!"
"Laeron, please. Another half an hour will be no further disrespect."
"Strider must muster the rangers and rip through their ranks!"
Laeron was resolute, continuing to lead her through the room of angry rangers.
"We must demand Strider take action or find we will decide for him!"
Eryndes tore her hand from his, "Laeron!"
Laeron stopped, turning back to her in surprise.
"I said nay."
"Oh," He looked repentant, "all right. Sorry, Eryndes." He nodded, "We will wait if you want."
When she started to retreat, he questioned, "Where are you going?"
"I will wait at the back and out of the way."
Getting to the back of the room, Laeron took the space beside her, and they both looked out amongst the crowd of rangers. "I'm sorry."
She chilled him for a moment, then conceded, "I don't like being in here."
Laeron looked down, "I'm sorry, I'll take you out."
Placing a hand on his young arm, she soothed, "It is alright. We are in here now. We will wait."
At the head of the room stood the senior lieutenants, the two commanders, one chieftain and the elf, seemingly to be having little trouble conversing together over the noise.
Strider, Bear, and Joust were calmly speaking to their lieutenants and the elf, his eyes were set upon the crowded rangers; stern and yet indifferent.
"Would Strider truly muster the rangers and ride out to Angmar just to appease an angry crowd?"
She opened her mouth and was about to negate it, but then shook her head, "I do not know, Laeron. I truly know nothing of Aragorn's way in war."
"Elon's family, Raemben's family, Sírdhem's family and now Amdirbarad's family," she saw
Laeron's big shoulders tense, "four families in three months. They must decide to do something."
The group of leaders finished speaking and moved to face the rangers.
The crowd went eerily silent.
Aragorn stood tall, "My friends, the events of last night have led us to anger and grief, yet we must not choose a course which will be to our downfall-"
"You're not calling to battle?" Someone yelled out.
"To where?" Aragorn invited calmly. "Where do you suppose we do battle, Sírdhem? Does anyone know precisely where our enemy is?"
"Angmar!" Someone else shouted.
"Is that where the enemy's forces are?" Aragorn questioned. "Angmar? It's a big place."
"What are you saying, Strider? That we do nothing and allow our families to die?"
"That is not what I am saying, Midhil. We have a plan," he gestured to his left at the elf. "Sindar has-"
"We should ride out there, let them see our full strength," someone close by her shouted.
"Carn Dûm is a formidable fortress. Your full strength, three hundred or so rangers would bring it down? Or do you suggest Gundabad?"
The crowd looked to Sindar, his arms crossed, the unmistakable look of derision on his face, "With no intelligence, no knowledge of what lies in wake?" The elf scoffed, "Extinction. That is what that action would bring. Extinction to the Númenórean bloodline."
"Are we to listen only to the lofty pacifist opinions of an elf? Should we not look to our own?" The same voice this time even closer, and she was startled to see Bregol standing there. Standing rather closely to her.
Even more flabbergasting were his words.
Worrying about the insult he'd just levelled at Sindar, she looked over at him.
And was surprised by his lack of reaction.
Bregol was not finished, "We are proud, and we have been attacked. We must draw together and take out the masters of Angmar once and for all! Or are we to remain like our honoured guest, talking grand but delivering little."
Eryndes gasped, wanting to silence him, perhaps shove a handkerchief into his mouth.
Sindar's expression, however, was now of great amusement.
"Let us take up arms-"
"Oh, be silent!" Joust, standing at Aragorn's right, shouted across the room at Bregol. "Had you any exploits of your own and experience in these matters, or even just possessed purity of facts, we might wish to hear your opinion." Joust folded his muscular arms across his chest, "As it stands, you've nothing to contribute and we've no wish to hear your slander. Be grateful our guest doesn't rip out your insolent tongue, boy!"
Aragorn stepped forward, "Eryndes? Why are you here?"
The blood drained from her face. Every set of eyes turned to her, "I-"
Laeron slipped protectively in front of her, "She came in with me. They are ready for us."
Aragorn's posture relaxed, "Very well. We will continue this later."
"Later?" Sírdhem demanded, "Later? Has not the time passed for later?"
"Our honoured dead do not wait for us," Aragorn said firmly.
Most the rangers nodded in agreement and Aragorn left the raised stage and headed her way.
"I am sorry," She apologised when he was close enough. "I should have waited-
"It was my fault, Strider," Laeron continued to shield her, "I thought we shouldn't delay-"
"As we should not," Aragorn patted Laeron on the shoulder, and coaxed him out of the way. "Come, sister. We must not keep the dead waiting."
He held out his arm to her.
Wrapping her fingers around the muscles of his upper arm, she allowed herself to be led through the jungle of hundreds of rangers and out of the room.
"How we treat the dead is important," He said gently, cutting into her thoughts, "almost as important as how we treat the living."
She chanced a glance at his face and found him smiling fondly at her. "I was, angry, last night. I did not mean to be such a bear." He tenderly covered her hand with his other, "Forgive me, please? My only desire is to keep you from harm."
"I know."
"I spoke the truth when I said I couldn't bear to lose you and, in my fear, I lost my temper." He hesitated, "And you were courageous last night. The boy may have been lost to us if not for you."
Eryndes cringed.
"If you wish it, I will teach you to become a warrior-"
"You know that is not what I want. I only wish to serve you with honour, as all in my line have done before me," she recited what she'd planned to say to him.
"Eryndes."
"As much as I would desire to take up arms and defend your side and your banner with valour, I know in my heart I would fail you."
"Eryndes-"
"I serve where I can, in ways I am capable. You needed a second last night, I will not be sorry I did my duty."
He shook his head then leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek, "Being my sister is service enough for me."
Eryndes wanted to smile, but it was a bleak day and her heart, her cheer, was taken in grief. Instead, she squeezed his arm, "I am glad you are here. Regardless for however long, I am grateful."
"If only my time here were spent in peace."
She had no answer and they continued to walk, down the corridors, staircases, then into the great hall. Rank upon rank of Dúnedain stood in silence, waiting. Down the path left to them, Aragorn continued to lead her, and the rangers following them, towards the four stretchers laid out in high honour.
As they approached, men took up the corners of each of the stretchers, walking slowly ahead of them in procession. Aragorn slowed them both also, taking their place behind them and they continued out of the hall, down the steps and outside. The stretchers were carefully loaded onto wagons.
Aragorn led her to the horses, saddled and waiting.
As a long procession, her and Aragorn lead the Dúnedain behind the wagons for the long journey to the farmhouse.
No one spoke for the whole two-and-a-half-hour journey in the baking sun.
Finally arriving at the top of the crest, the farmhouse and barn could be seen clearly, nothing seemingly amiss. No sign could be seen of the horrific happenings of only last night.
They dismounted from their mounts, leaving them behind to walk the last couple hundred meters by foot.
Aragorn met her and she retook his arm. He tenderly held her hand over his arm and nodded. Slowly they made their silent way to the wagons.
Releasing Aragorn's arm, Eryndes breathed in deeply, forcing down the lump at the back of her throat, and walked over to the wagon littered with herb and flower in pretty tribute and respect.
Gently she took the small bouquet from her friend, Gueniel, and laid the bunch down next to Langwen's body.
Lavender, ever Langwen's favourite.
Eryndes didn't pretend Langwen and her were the closest of friends. Just friends. They'd shared the same age, grown up together. Eryndes taught her four children to sing. Langwen tried to teach Eryndes fishing and laughed when she'd fallen in trying to bring in a catch.
Langwen was a woman of the Dúnedain; good, kind-hearted and honourable. A loving wife and mother. A steadfast and dutiful ranger.
Pressing down against the tears threatening, Eryndes stepped back and took her place alongside Aragorn.
Silently, Aragorn took her hand.
Looking down at their hands, Eryndes swiped at her cheek, the first tear to escape her. Resolutely, she swallowed against anymore.
"Come," She heard him and looked up to see him looking down at her fondly. "It's all right. There is no shame in weeping."
Eryndes set her face forward and shook her head. There was no point weeping for lives lost, when soon another will take their place in their constantly mourning hearts.
In the end, how many tears could she spare until her heart had no more to give?
"Strider?" Úrion said quietly, coming up to them with Joust and Sindar, "We're ready."
At Aragorn's nod, Úrion and his two companions stepped in place behind them and the rest of the lieutenants and their families.
Five hundred Dúnedain followed.
With a squeeze of her hand, Aragorn led her to the first step and the many thereafter as the procession made the whisper quiet journey down the slope of the hill to the farmhouse of their kin.
Once the wagon was brought to a halt, the surviving members of the family took each of the decorated stretchers one at a time, resting them carefully inside the farmhouse.
Geledir, cousin to Amdirbarad, stepped forward and turned to address the gathering, "May they find peace and happiness in the afterlife, free from the strife and toils of this world, held in the comfort of their forebears. May we hold their spirit forever bright in our hearts, blessed with our love and our memories of them live on for eternity."
Geledir took the flaming torch from Aragorn, and solemnly walked over to the farmhouse thoroughly doused in oil. Taking a knee, he set flame to his slain family.
Eryndes joined by Aragorn's side, and began to sing:
"When the light begins to fade,
And shadows fall across the sea,
One bright star in the evening sky, Your love's light leads me on my way."
The rest of the folk joined in harmony the song of farewell:
"There's a dream that will not sleep, A burning hope that will not die.
So I must go now with the wind,
And leave you waiting on the tide.
Time to fly, time to touch the sky. One voice alone - a haunting cry.
One song, one star burning bright,
Let it carry me through darkest night.
Rain comes over the grey hills, And on the air, a soft goodbye. Hear the song that I sing to you, When the time has come to fly.
When I leave and take the wing,
And find the land that fate will bring,
The brightest star in the evening sky,
It is our love waiting far from me."
There was no choice in the matter; she simply had to find him, and she had to apologise. There was no recourse, it had to be done. And now the funeral was over, the burden of guilt grew heavy and would not wait a moment longer.
Humming quietly to ease her nervousness, Eryndes climbed the steps to the manor's main entrance and followed the long corridor leading into the great hall.
As was before and would be for a full week's mourning, the hall was filled to the brim with flowers and herbs as a mark of respect to their fallen.
The one she sought stood alone amongst it, floating around at the arrangements, in wonder or interest, she could not tell.
Pausing a moment to settle her breath, she cautiously approached him, "Master Elf?"
The tall figure slowly faced her, his face remaining an unreadable mask.
"Master Elf? I wish to apologise for Bregol," She began, her confidence a little put off by the lack of reaction from him, "He was rude and disrespectful, and I want you to know he does not speak the mind of the people of Carthal."
The lack of reaction still did not change.
"I am very sorry if he embarrassed or offended-"
"Should not the one who spoke the offense be the one to offer apologies?" She saw the corner of his mouth twitch, "Do you speak for him because he fears for his tongue?"
"Nay, I-," she stopped, "He is but a child and wishes to make his mark on the world, often unwisely as we saw today."
There was an unmistakable look of stunned bewilderment on his face, "You, think him a child?"
"Of course," she confirmed, her brows lowering, "I was at his mother's side when she brought him into this world and held her hand when thereafter she left us." She continued, "Once you hold them as an infant in your arms, it is hard to think of them otherwise."
A tiny crinkle emerged between his brows, "I had not realised."
"Master Elf?" she urged, further unsettled by his odd demeanour.
"To me, you," he said slowly, "seemed to be very much the same age."
"I have more than twice his years," She told him, "But I suppose we are all children in your eyes."
"No," he negated swiftly, his eyes momentarily losing focus, "it is not as you suppose. Mortals are comparably young. This is unquestionable. But you are wrong. I do not see you as a child." He continued to speak more to the air than to her, "You are adult, as adult as I."
She studied his face; he seemed so lost in his thoughts.
"Does it surprise you to learn I am considered young amongst my people?"
She was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, like in some way she was intruding on his private thoughts, "How can I be surprised, Master Elf?"
He turned his head to the side, and she shrugged, "when I know not your age."
"Well," he righted his head and started to move away, "perhaps better a mystery then prosaic."
Eryndes could have choked, "No-one could ever call you dull or plain."
He turned his head back to her, and she felt her face redden.
"Do not burden yourself," he said finally, "I did not believe for a moment your young friend spoke your mind."
"You did not?"
"Not when you appeared ready to assault him. Indeed, I was curious to see who would strike first; you or Laeron."
Eryndes held fast against the laugh in her throat. She wanted too but refused. Not on that day. "Bregol learnt a valuable lesson today, but I am still very sorry for the insult he offered. I hope his behaviour does not reflect badly upon your impression of us."
When Sindar did not answer but continued his unwavering stare, she shuffled a little nervously under deluge of his unblinking eyes, her hands absentmindedly seeking the comfort of a bunch of greenery from the table.
"I was unaware it was your friend who was slain."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to fight against the impulse to cry, "In a community this small, everyone knows everyone; every death is felt by all."
"I understand this."
"Yes, I imagine you must have attended more than your share of funerals, each equally as sad as another."
"Not all equally."
Her stomach dropped and she wished she'd never spoken. And she struggled to find something to say, anything, anything to excuse her inquiry.
Anything to ease the haunting pain she'd seen flash momentarily in his eyes.
But just as quickly as it came, it'd vanished; Sindar simply lifted his chin, and the pain was gone.
"You should take better care of your possessions." He dug something out from his belt.
Her gloves.
"You did not retrieve them today."
"Oh," she blushed again, stammering in her gratitude, "I-Thank you. With everything, I forgot."
She took them from him, awkward for he did not react to her gratitude. "Thank you," she repeated softly.
The vivid icy grey of his eyes at once resettled upon her as if coming to a great decision. "You were humming when you came in."
"Yes?" she asked guarded, wondering if perhaps it had annoyed him.
"I do not know this song."
His statement and the rigidity of his manner left her perplexed, "Just a song my mother taught me."
"Would it not be better to sing with words?"
Her confusion left her mute.
"Well?"
"You wish me to sing?"
A single dark brow quirked. "Have you forgotten the words?"
And for the first time on that awful day, she smiled. And then she began her song.
"When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Valar opens a magic lane
When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow cart-way to be found
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun, just a step beyond the rain
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true
Someday day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the mountain tops, that's where you'll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow, why, then oh, why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?"