* Thanks to all who reviewed, favoured, liked and kudos.
** Thank you to Frannel. Your honesty is always greatly appreciated.
*** Two chapters in the same month? Surely that deserves some M&Ms? This was a ridiculously, insanely hard chapter to write. I think I've re-edited this chapter more times than any other so far! I can only hope I've done the effort justice and I don't get chased down the street by burning torches (especially when I've grown so fat on M&Ms).
**** WARNING! Mature content of a violent nature. This story is aimed at mature readers.
***** POST-POST UPDATE***** As reviews have begun flooding in about the Arwen/Immortality issue/question, I please remind readers this story does not adhere completely to Tolkien law (See Authors Note and Warnings at start of story - Not all changes are listed or the warnings would be longer than the story!). Yes, I've changed things to the benefit of the story. I hope this does not tarnish the opinions of readers or retract from the enjoyment of the plot.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger
Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms
Cordoves/Swan – Female, Elite Ranger Scout
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master & Elite Ranger Scout
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables & Elite Ranger Scout
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Mereniel/Ivy – Female, Elite Ranger Scout (Pregnant)
Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing, Elder Master of Carthal
Romon – Male, Elder Master of Carthal
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm on unofficial secondment
Trîw/Jester – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command
"Eryndes?"
She looked up from her thoughts to see Úrion emerging from the war-room.
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh," she felt warmth spread over her throat, "I am waiting for Sindar."
Úrion stopped short, "He is inside."
Eryndes nodded and cast her eyes wearily at the door to the war-room, "I know."
Úrion regarded her warmly with that smile of his which never failed to charm the women back in his youth, "It's all right. You don't need go in. I will get him for you."
"No, please," she stepped after him to take his arm, "please. It is no great matter."
The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, "I don't think he'd want you out here waiting for him."
"Please, Bear," she appealed, "What he is doing in there is far more important." She started to move off, taking his arm with her, "I will come back later. Come, let us go down to the kitchen for tea."
Úrion looked at her apologetically, "I'm sorry. I have to arrange changes for tomorrow's patrols with the others. They're waiting for me. A little later perhaps?"
"Of course," she said smoothly, letting go of his arm. She watched him stride off down the hallway but didn't follow. Instead she returned to stand by the window, gazing out over the grounds and waited.
Aragorn left Carthal three weeks earlier and was due back any day now.
"Strider?" Trîw called.
Aragorn looked about them. The young ranger was right. "What has happened here? Where is everyone?"
"That was what I was about to say."
The guards were standing to their duty above the wall and in the towers, and yet . . .
Aragorn decided on caution and held up his hand for his company to stop. "Úan? Sound our approach."
Úan took up his horn and filled the air with a long bellow into the early afternoon.
The return horn came swiftly to meet them.
"There is no alarm," Joust pointed out unnecessarily. "But then where are the folk in the fields? I don't even see a child."
"We'll find out in a few minutes," Aragorn told him, flicking his wrist forward. He kept them at an easy canter; no sense worry the people if there was indeed no cause for haste or alarm.
They quickly descended the hill then turned the sharp right from the great north road to the manor, passing through the dense forest on either side.
The gate was not even closed. Aragorn glanced back to Lobordir, but Joust simply gave him a bemused shrug.
Pulling his horse well short of the main embarkation circle, Aragorn quickly scanned the compound. There seemed to be no trouble. Everything was as he'd left it.
Except for the hundreds of Dúnedain mulling around in the late afternoon sun.
"My lord?" a ranger called down from the gate tower.
"What is going on here?" he called back.
"My lord?"
"The Dúnedain? Where are my people?"
The guards looked at each other, then the one who'd spoken answered, "My lord, your people have been keeping away. They have awaited your return and no doubt seek your guidance."
Aragorn spied the man closely, "They are keeping away?"
"My lord," another spoke up, "Many families are preparing to abandon Carthal."
"Abandon Carthal?" One of Aragorn's men cried from behind him.
"What has befallen?" Aragorn demanded, "Speak plainly!"
"You have been waiting for me?"
Eryndes jumped, grabbing the windowsill and turned to face the speaker. She had no idea how long she'd stood there, staring out at the quiet grounds of her family. "I have news on the fallen Dúnedan you discovered in Angmar."
Sindar came to stand in front of her, "How long have you been waiting?"
She shrugged, very stiffly, "I have someone who thinks they know who the buckle belongs to."
His blinkless regard didn't change, "There is no need to be afraid."
"How silly?" she automatically rebuked. "Why should I be afraid?"
Sindar stood silently, every inch of him patiently waiting for her to answer.
She looked away. "I am hardly afraid, just the other month I went in-"
"When the room was full of rangers." He closed the distance between them, "I do not understand. There are those long dead whom I would be glad to see again."
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Sindar's expression softened and extended his hand, "Come, you will see there is nothing to fear."
Stepping back from him, her instinct was to flee.
But Sindar kept his hand out to her, "You still will not trust me?"
The internal battle she fought with her fears vanished. He wanted to help her, she could see that. But it was his suggestion which smarted.
Of course she trusted him. Now she had to prove it.
With an abated breath, she slowly took his hand and he held tightly in a show of encouragement.
"You must think me a fool."
"Nonsense," he corrected quickly. Perhaps too quickly. "We are all afraid of something."
"What are you afra-?" she stopped herself. "Forgive me, I sometimes speak without thought."
"Have I not already said you need not hold your tongue with me? I prefer speaking without pretence."
She pursed her lips then admitted with a shiver, "Serpents," she shivered again, "I fear them like a worm from a bird."
Sindar snorted, "My father also despises them. He has never forgiven the time I brought one into," he paused, "into our home."
Her stomach sickened, "Why on Earth-?"
"He especially took it to heart finding it in his bed."
Jaw dropping in horror, Eryndes shrieked, "Why would you do such a thing?!"
He shrugged in complete indifference. "It was a cold day; snakes do not like the cold."
Eryndes laughed, out of abhorrence or humour she didn't know, "Your father is right; I could never forgive you either."
"Even elves were young once," Sindar said with a smirk, "but I was a particularly troublesome elfling."
Unable to contain her eagerness, she asked, "Did your father punish you?"
"Continually and rather severely too but to no avail," he gloated, "Punishment never did much good."
"How old were you? When you put a snake in his bed?"
"About the same as the youngest son of Langwen." He explained when she frowned, "If I said seventeen years, you might not understand."
She nodded. Amarthedhel was five years old and so elves really did mature slowly. With a wry smile, she boldly pressed, "Severely punished?"
Sindar smiled then looked around them.
Her eyes followed his with a gasp. She'd been so engrossed she failed to notice they now stood metres inside the room. Her eyes snapped at once to the spot over by the far right, towards the opposite end of the room.
"Eryndes?" he softly enquired when she didn't speak.
"My father," she hesitated, then pointed, "I mean, the apparition stood over there, by the coat of arms." There was little pointed prevaricating any further; if his opinion of her was going to be damaged by this whole affair, the pie was already out of the oven.
"Did he speak?"
"He tried but no sound came," her eyes did not drift from the place she'd seen her father.
"And never appeared anywhere else?"
Her head shook gently.
"Eryndes?"
Disappointment overcame fear, "I do not know what I feared more; my father coming forth, or that he would not."
"Are you alright?"
She conceded a small nod.
"Would you like to leave?"
Her eyes tore away from her memory and looked about them. "I have not taken in this room for nigh thirty years. I feel rather foolish. All this time . . . And yet he does not come."
"What would you like him to say if he were?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor and she sighed. More and more lately, she and Sindar were leaning on each other in Aragorn's absence. More and more she was sharing her confidences with him.
If there was a time to prove her trust in him . . .
"A week ago I had a man flogged-"
"Yours is a soft touch."
She started, her eyes widening in astonishment, "You call whipping a man 'soft'?"
But Sindar simply shrugged, "Aragorn vowed he would have ordered the man publicly castrated."
Eryndes swallowed, hard. "Truly?"
His piercing silver eyes spoke as gravely as his voice, "And I would have thrown him to a pack of wargs."
"Alive?" she choked.
"How else would he witness his punishment?"
When she remained silent, Sindar's face softened. "Those who prey on the defenceless do not deserve pity or mercy. You judged what you deemed fair and your father should be glad of your fortitude."
Eryndes studied the colours of the great shield hung above the window; Carthal's colours of dark red, lush green and gold. "Thank you," she said at last.
"(For what)?"
Her heart thudded suddenly hard in her chest, but she stood her ground and faced him. "For being there that day," she smiled, glancing around them, "For being here now."
Sindar inclined his head, "(At your service, my lady)."
The memory of that last time he'd called her a lady brought warmth to her face. "It is a dreary room," she laughed at last with a dismissal wave. "Much better to spend the day out in the fresh air. Would you care for tea?"
A slow smile grew on his lips, "I would."
"Good," she boldly took his arm as if he were Aragorn or Úrion and led him out the war-room. "You will be pleased to know Sali has put the last of the sweet cherries to brandy and sauce, and hidden them away."
"Why should I be pleased?" he asked in feigned disinterest.
She grinned, "Because I know where."
Crossing the last couple hundred metres to the main circle, Aragorn left his horse in the care of the ranger on duty and strode up the stairs two at a time and marched through the corridors.
Hearing talking coming from the great hall, he directed his path there in haste.
Just inside the doorway he came to an abrupt halt.
"I see you have finally returned," his friend, his brother greeted with a tang of pepper to his tongue.
From his side, Eryndes whirled about with a bright smile, "Aragorn!" She dumped her tea on the nearest table dashed forward to embrace him, "Thank Eru."
Aragorn returned her embrace but kept his eye on Legolas, "Sindar?"
Legolas had upon him the look Aragorn learnt very early on in their friendship to loathe.
Disappointment.
"Once you are released from your sister," Legolas said gravely, "I believe we have much to discuss."
"My lord!"
Aragorn saw Úrion's large frame coming inside the great hall from the side door. "I haven't been called 'my lord' so much in my life as I have been this day."
"I am so sorry," Eryndes whispered from his shoulder, "I did what I could to keep the people together."
With a deep sigh, he gave his sister a lasting squeeze before gently pulled her back, "I'm sorry but I think I must speak with Sindar and Úrion immediately."
Eryndes nodded emphatically, "Aye, of course." She walked back over to Legolas to collect her mug, and with a smile, his.
What Aragorn then saw caught his breath.
The way he watched her walk away and disappear into the kitchen . . . That particular tint upon his blinkless gaze.
Aragorn knew what it meant; he'd seen it many times before.
Just never before from Legolas.
Once the main door to the war room was closed, Aragorn stood firm with his arms crossed and faced them. "I have heard about the council's rulings. You're spared a retelling."
Úrion spoke first, "My lord-"
"Aragorn," Aragorn interrupted his friend, "or Strider. I've never cared to be called formally, and not by you of all people."
"Perhaps he does so," Legolas snipped in from over by the wall, "to remind you of whom and what you are."
The snideness to his words left nothing unsaid. "The council keeps the folk together, Sindar, that is why it was assembled-"
"It does not appear to be working. Did I not warn you?"
Úrion looked between them and the unshakable man looked troubled. "The council is surely wrong. You must countermand their authority before Carthal is all emptied."
Aragorn kept his focus squarely upon Legolas, "If I were to do that, how then would the people take their rulings as law? Would they not always be looking to me for the final say?"
"That is what it means to be king."
The bite in Legolas' words struck him like a blow to Aragorn's chest. "I have never wanted to be king." The disappointment on his beloved brother's face deepened, sending a flash of anger through him, "What of you? Do you wish to be king?"
Legolas' arms dropped to his side, his feet widened.
With a long breath, Aragorn tore his eyes from Legolas to Úrion, "I won't wait any longer. Send word to Gell. I want him and his men here immediately. Tell them I will come with the caravan leaving in the morning and they will accompany us on the return journey."
Úrion hesitated, "What of Nestdôl? You know what he truly wants."
Aragorn felt sick. "I do. Perhaps Gell will not only provide rangers to increase our number but also an answer to the question of Carthal's master."
Úrion stammered, "Do you mean . . . Gell is to be-?"
"He is a good man. She might take to him." He ground out the words and fighting against sickness uttering them brought, "Especially if I suggest it to her."
Úrion didn't move.
"Go, do as I command. I do not like it but the time has come for Eryndes to do her duty."
He watched Úrion open his mouth as if to argue, but then gave a curt nod and rushed out the door.
"Surely you do not intend-"
"I will do as I must," Aragorn snapped, slowly turning to him, "for what is right for my people and for my sister." He glanced down at the floor, "Is that not what you want? For me to command and make choices as any king?"
A vile anger spewed from Legolas' face and he took another step towards him. "A king does not force his sister to marry to appease a man like Nestdôl!"
Aragorn stood his ground, his chin high in the face of Legolas' ire. When he spoke though, he kept as calm as he ever could, "I will not force her, I'd take my own life first. However the time has come; she can no longer hold to her stubbornness without acknowledging the price she will pay for it."
"So you will not force her, but give her an impossible choice?"
Aragorn's calm evaporated, "Do we not have similar choices before us?" He glared hard then stepped away, heading in his own anger towards the door. "Now, if you please, I must go-"
"She will not submit."
Aragorn held his eyes closed. If what he'd seen just before was indeed the way of things, he had to proceed carefully. "You've only known her two months-"
"How long does it take-?"
"She was raised the daughter of a lord. Her lineage traces back to Númenor. She is a lady of the Dúnedain and she will do her duty." Aragorn breathed in, "With respect, I ask you to remain detached in this matter."
Legolas stepped dangerously after him, "You would warn me away from her?"
Now Aragorn was truly startled. "Melloneg," he said tentatively, then shook his head, "No, never." He held his gaze; Legolas had just shown his hand. "Do you," Aragorn took in a deep breath, "have something to say regarding my sister?"
Legolas' powerful stance wilted and he looked away, the guilt on his face as plain as day. "You have no matter of honour to defend if that is your question."
Aragorn couldn't hold in his inappropriate laugh, "Of that I'd never doubt. Not with you."
"Good," Legolas turned and strode away.
Aragorn braced himself. "(Are you in love with her)?"
All drive left his friend's legs and he came to a slow halt. When Legolas did look back over at him, it looked as if he'd been sucker punched in the gut. "I . . . do not know."
It was an honest answer. "Are you-," Aragorn hesitated, choosing his words with care, "Is your heart set upon her?"
Legolas closed his eyes briefly but when they opened again, they were full of solid conviction, "Yes. My heart is set upon her."
Aragorn rubbed his tired face and released a frustrated groan. "Why did you not tell me?"
His question was met by heavy silence.
"Well," he pushed, "Has she given you any indication-"
"Not as yet," Legolas snapped.
"Do you believe she may-?"
"I do not know!" The set to Legolas' jaw told Aragorn to wait and so after a handful of heartbeats, his friend confessed reluctantly , "I have yet to seek her consent for courtship."
For the longest moment, Aragorn let everything settle, his thoughts considering the possibilities. If Eryndes had giving any encouragement, any show of attraction or interest- But she hadn't and her words from the night of the dancing left little doubt; Legolas' regard for her was not reciprocated.
"What are your intentions?" he asked finally.
Legolas remained silent, the expression on his face one of indignation. Perhaps it was a foolish question to ask an elf.
"I . . ." he sighed, so much had changed so quickly, "I would never command Eryndes to marry, but I do understand women find Gell a charming sort of man."
Legolas stiffened, "What are you saying?"
"Gell is a good man," he began. "For some time now I planned to encourage a union between the two."
Legolas pierced him with his glare.
"(My brother)-" he began.
"You expect me to remain idle and watch you play for another to win her affection?"
Aragorn looked upon him sadly, "Gell would be a good and honourable master of Carthal," he paused, "and a good husband-"
Legolas turned and headed for the door.
"And he's not an immortal prince to another realm."
"(Go kiss an orc!)" Legolas snarled almost to the door.
"Legolas!"
Legolas turned back to Aragorn quicker than he could react and bore down on him, "You dare speak my name?!"
Aragorn held his ground, his face still sympathetic which did naught but fuel the elf's rage. "Swear to me now," Aragorn implored firmly but calmly, "now, this very moment you have my sister's heart. Pledge yourself hers. Declare the two of you betrothed."
The rage on his face lost most of its fire.
Aragorn stalked in even closer, stamping down on the fracture in his friend's armour. He could ill afford to step down now, "Send for your army, bring them here and crush Angmar."
He was being cruel, Aragorn knew for if Legolas did than Lasgalen would be lost.
"Swear to me Carthal will ever remain under your family's personal protection without your father's consent-"
"(Stop)."
"I don't want to be cruel," Aragorn reached up and firmly took his shoulder, "But don't you see? How can I not seek ways to protect her and her people when you cannot promise even one?"
Legolas brushed off the other's hand but Aragorn retook it and said softly, "How can I? I have to do what is best for my people."
Aragorn let go and stepped back sadly, "I'm sorry, melloneg. I have no choice. I cannot dissolve the council without a strong leader to take their place. I must find another way to protect my people. If there is any chance she will have him, I must encourage it."
Defeated, Legolas turned and trudged towards the door. But there he stopped, his face full of venom, "You would have a choice if you chose to take up your place as their king. But instead you keep passing off your duty to others. I may have no desire to be king, but that is my luxury; my father is strong and full of life. You, however, are content to shun your birthright and palm off your responsibilities to others, no matter the consequence. The masters' ruling doesn't work for you so you bring in another to take their place?" Legolas shook his head, "Sometimes I am utterly ashamed to have named you brother."
Pain stabbed through Aragorn's chest. "You know nothing of my reasons-"
"Your reasons? Your fear of becoming Isildur?" he scoffed. "You are not him. You are Aragorn, the son of Arathorn. It is time you accepted that." He turned and strode through the door, "After all, Arathorn was a good man too."
Hours after his quarrel with Legolas, Eryndes came tentatively into the war room with a tray held in front of her. Surprised, he rose from the chair he'd sunken into and not moved since. He walked towards her, "You're in the war room."
Her head tilted to the side with a wry smile, "I am."
He frowned, "But how? You haven't come in here since you were little."
"Sindar brought me. Now I feel a bit silly for being scared for so long. It is just a room." She raised the tray towards him, "You missed supper."
A wealth of affection warmed his heart, "You shouldn't have worried. I would've come down eventually."
A touch of hesitation passed over her. "Maybe I wanted an excuse to see you."
"When since do you need an excuse?" he asked taking the mug of ale from the tray with one hand and the tray filled with supper with the other he placed it on a table.
"I . . . figured you and Sindar argued," she admitted quickly, rambling on the way she did, "I wanted to know if I could help in some way. I mean, I know it is not my place to interfere, but you and Sindar, well, you are very fond each other and really shouldn't be arguing -"
"We have fought far worse in the past," he assured her with a smile. "It would take much more than mere words spoken in anger to damage our kinship." He then let out a deep troubled sigh, "Eryndes, sister, will you sit with me?"
When she'd sat, he took her hand and took the seat opposite her. "Are you aware Nestdôl has it in his head for you to marry his grandson?"
A shocked laugh was her answer until she saw he was serious. "Bregol? He is half my age!"
"Have you not noticed his attentions towards you?"
She opened her mouth, and hesitated, "I guess, a little. I thought perhaps he was simply playing, as many of the young ones do. No maiden is immune to their attentions in a land filled with so many unwed men. None take them seriously."
Aragorn studied her patiently, "You did nothing to encourage-"
She tore her hand from his, "How could you ask me such a thing?!"
He laughed, "I had to ask. Nestdôl suggested you did and to call him out, I first have to hear it from you."
"Well," she said, smoothing her ruffled feathers. "Nestdôl is a cantankerous old man, as you said. Why you don't run him out of Carthal is beyond me."
"There may come a time for that," he conceded, "but not now. Tell me, is the idea of marrying Bregol completely out of the question?"
She sat back, "Are you asking so you may defend me honourably or because you think I would be so desperate to marry I would consider the likes of Bregol?"
Aragorn waited.
Finally, she huffed, "Of course I would never consider him. He is a nice enough boy, but surely you can understand a woman wants a man, not a boy." She quickly added with a growl, "He could not even dance at our wedding."
Laughing, he retook her hand, "I am glad you don't consider Bregol but dancing is not the most important thing when considering a husband."
"I disagree," she lifted her chin, "Dancing tells a woman much about a man. The way he holds her, guides her, respects her space, and keeps away from her feet."
Aragorn conceded with a incredulous smile then tempted carefully, "Sindar dances well."
Eryndes sighed dreamily. "Oh, doesn't he, most splendidly. His wife would be a lucky woman. I mean, elf. Lucky elf."
Aragorn considered her for a pause. "It would take a kind and gentle lady, a lady of great patience to win Sindar's heart. She would not be a meek creature."
"He does have a bit of a temper," she agreed easily, another wistful smile in her eyes, "and tends to say the most unkind things when his mood is ill."
"He gets that from his father," Aragorn grinned, "His mother was the kindest of souls. Sindar inherited his father's passionate spirit along with his temper."
"You knew his mother?"
"Alas," he negated, "she died a very long time ago. I have only hearsay for my knowledge."
Making the decision, he stood up, "I don't believe Sindar would have come down to supper either?"
Eryndes watched him sadly, "Nay, he did not. Neither of you did. And after the icy encounter in the great hall upon your return, well that was why I thought you two had quarrelled."
"But you came to find me first?"
Her lips parted, "Of course. You are my brother. And-"
"And?"
She blushed, "I did not know where to find him."
He held out the tray to her, minus the ale of course, "He will be up on the roof."
Eryndes stared at the tray, "Aragorn?"
"Would you?" he pressed, "I would not see him go hungry. Please?"
She stood finally and took the tray from him, "Very well but I still think the two of you are being foolish. Regardless of what the fight was about."
Aragorn lead her to the door with a smirk, "Be sure to tell him you think so."
Her face turned dubious.
"Tell him he's a fool for sulking."
"Like you have been?"
Aragorn chuckled and opened the door for her, "Precisely. Now don't take no for an answer or stand for any of his temper."
Eryndes frowned at him, "You are not playing another one of your games, are you?"
He kissed her cheek, "Absolutely not."
No, this was definitely not a game.
"Master Elf?" she called out into the bitter cold and rainy night air up on the roof. "Master E-"
"What are you doing up here?" came the harsh reply.
Fright filled her down to her toes, but she held herself firm. He was always startling her. "You did not come for dinner."
In the darkness, the tray was taken from her hands and she was pulled back under the shelter of the overhang, "So once more you venture out into the freezing rain with no overcoat? Are you trying to catch your death?"
"Once more you prefer being up here sulking instead of eating," she said tartly, guessing where he stood in front of her.
The sound of a toothy hiss came from behind her, "You cannot even see where I am. How did you plan on not falling off the roof?"
"A candle would have been snuffed in the wind," she counted, turning to face where the voice had come from. Her vision was slowly adjusting, and she finally saw his towering silhouette. "And the roof has railings. And I can see you just fine."
He didn't answer for a moment and she wondered if her eyes had played tricks on her and she actually couldn't see him at all.
But then she felt his hand on her arm. "Come," he said with a little more civility, and wrapped her arm around his, "I will not share my food with the wind."
Back inside, Sindar lit a candle and she watched how he sat down on the floor and started eating after the polite offering of her some. She slid down to sit on the floor opposite him. His brow rose but didn't comment. Of course it was hardly lady-like to be sitting on the floor. But she did it anyway. It was good enough for an elven lord.
When he'd finished, he set his plate aside on the tray next to him. "You have not asked me why."
"Why you were on the roof sulking?" she set her skirts better around her legs. She might be on the floor, but that didn't mean she was going to go so far as to allow her legs to be seen. "You argued with Aragorn."
"He told you?"
"I guessed and he confirmed it."
He hesitated. "Did he tell you why?"
She plucked at a loose thread on her dress, "Something silly, no doubt. Is that not what all arguments are about, something so silly that in a year no one can remember?"
When he didn't add anything more, she looked up and found him staring at her in the low light, a wry smile in his eyes.
"Is it not true? Once an argument is settled all is forgotten?"
Sindar stretched out his long legs and folding his arms over his chest, "Sometimes. Most times. But not always."
"I would say you argued about Nestdôl and the council. All week you have been vouching for the moment Aragorn returned, he would set things right." She wanted him to correct her and say Aragorn was setting things right, but when Sindar remained quiet - "He is not rescinding their rulings?"
Sindar got to his feet and picking up the tray, he came to stand over her with a hand extended.
Eryndes took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.
He didn't let go immediately, "Worry not. He will. Just be patient."
She pursed her lips but then nodded.
"Now," he smiled, "Did you not promise me cherries in brandy sauce? Do not think I failed to notice their absence."
She laughed. "Not brandy sauce. They are soaked in brandy and served with a toffee and cream sauce."
"You have me enticed," he exhaled looking to the ceiling, slowly shaking his head, "There are numerous fairy tales warning elves of the evils of ladies bearing sweets."
Her laugh echoed around them.
Aragorn saw them from across the hall, walking side by side towards the kitchen, talking together. Smiling. Laughing.
Did he dare get his hopes up? Back on the night of the great feast he'd played a little on Legolas' ineptitude with the fairer sex as he'd always done. Not just for amusement but also in the hope someday one might spark his interest. It was forever in vain though; Legolas' heart was never to be moved.
Until now.
The forces which ruled the heart sure worked in mysterious ways.
Aragorn was truthful when he'd told Eryndes there was no great difference between men and elves. Love between races was not only possible, it happened.
He and Arwen fell in love.
It was costly however. What Arwen was prepared to give up tore Aragorn's heart to pieces.
Would Legolas be prepared to sacrifice the same if they fell in love?
Knowing him as well as he did, Aragorn already knew the answer.
Across the hall, Legolas held open the door to the kitchen and they both disappeared inside. Aragorn dropped his head back down to his meal.
"The people are waiting for word," Úrion said from across the table. "Do you intend to do nothing and wait, hoping Eryndes will find Gell an acceptable suitor?"
Aragorn took another spoonful of stew.
"As your friend, I have to speak my mind; Gell's a good man, a fine man. But as man who knows men, he's not the type to settle for the one woman."
He took a long draught of ale before answering, "As I recall, neither were you."
"Gell's younger than I was when I married. What man of his age, with his talent with women wants to be bound to just the one?"
Aragorn shrugged, "Joust would've if Eryndes shared even half his adoration."
"But there again is my point," Úrion stressed, "I love my wife. Joust has loved Eryndes from childhood. Gell does not love Eryndes. He doesn't even know her."
Aragorn pushed his empty plate away and finished the last of his ale. Úrion was his friend, but after all the happenings of late, he wasn't in a great mood for talking. What he wanted was time alone; space and quiet to think. "Time will tell."
"Time is not something we have in great supply. Angmar is massing, their orcs attack our farms and the Dúnedain are fracturing? Sure Gell will strengthen our numbers, but only if half of them haven't fled south."
"They won't go," Aragorn tried to assure him, "The families have threatened to leave before-"
"Life is hard enough here without having to fear tyranny and injustice." Úrion stood up, his normally unflappable features now turned bitter, "My sons are all men now with Laeron old enough to make his own decisions but I will not risk my wife and unborn child on the hope of a union between Gell and Eryndes." He moved out from the bench to stand beside Aragorn, "I will send them south with the others." Úrion didn't bother bidding him a good night and Aragorn watched him head for the upper levels. No doubt to cuddle up to his tiny wife and wonder just what kind of future her and the child she carried faced.
Aragorn sat there, remembering the cheerful night of just over three weeks ago; children playing games, the women singing away the night, the men drinking and laughing in fellowship.
If things went the way they were headed the memory would be the last.
Aragorn remembered fondly the way Fuieryn would scold poor Thalawest, calling Carthal a slum not fit for dogs and only after the both of them worked all those years to make the manor what is was today.
What scolding Fuieryn would give now? For a woman with such an angelic singing voice, her shriek could rattle the manor to its foundations.
And what would she think of her daughter's elf-suitor?
Getting up from his seat, Aragorn went to take a long walk around the grounds. It was still raining and the wind howling against the window panes, but sometimes the cold was just what he needed to clear his head.
Eryndes glowered down at the garden beds. What a mess the wind and rain left the last of the late summer vegetables!
Tossing the mattock to the ground, she strode away-
Only to stop, turn around, pick up the tool and return it back to the shed where it belonged.
"Would you like some help?"
Hearing his voice coming from the fence-line, Eryndes clenched her fist tightly. Forcing a smile, but a carefully benign smile, she faced him, "Thank you, but no. I think the weather has finally won the battle. At least until spring."
Bregol leapt over the fence and walked towards her. "It's not the mattock's fault," he beamed widely at her.
She forced a laugh. Really she shouldn't feel so uneasy, no matter what his intentions were. He was just a boy, a pawn in Nestdôl's schemes. It wasn't his fault. "Perhaps not," she agreed. "Well, look at the sun. I am filthy and due in the kitchen."
"I like it when you're filthy," his grin didn't waver, "makes me think you're real and not a walking dream."
Queasiness filled her stomach. "Really, Bregol," she reproached as carefully as her unease allowed, "I am just as real as any other. Now, please, I must go."
His hand on her arm stopped her, "Can't we talk awhile?"
With another measured smile, she gently slid off his hand, "I am sorry. Another time perhaps."
He stopped her again, this time blocking her path, "You always make time for our talks."
It was unreasonable to feel anxious; he was just a boy. Yet anxious was what she felt. "Perhaps you should save your talks for a younger woman," she encouraged, putting on the best show of nonchalance her mother ever taught her. "A handsome boy like you should be off charming the younger maidens."
Something in his eyes flashed. "I'm not a boy."
"I meant no offense," she soothed hastily with her heart jumping into her throat, "Now, please. I am needed back at the manor."
"Bregol?" she said firmly when he didn't move out of her way.
His hard stare broke and he walked stiffly away.
Not even taking a moment to breathe, Eryndes made her way back to the manor as quick as she could without drawing attention.
It wasn't Bregol's fault. He was just a boy.
Cleaning her face and hands at the washhouse, she dried herself and felt better. Poor Bregol must think her awful, but if Aragorn was right, it was far better to be cruel than kind.
'Kindness only encourages them,' her mother told her endlessly.
The sound of a baby crying drew nearer. And nearer.
"Eryndes?" the voice of a young women called through the washhouse.
A smile, a genuine smile lit her face. "Amdiel."
"I'm sorry. I don't want to get you in trouble," she came rushing to her, holding little Brui to her, "Nestdôl said he has wind, no concern. But he won't stop crying. The herbs, they don't do anything."
Eryndes bit her lip. If someone saw her . . .
Brui's continued bawling torturing her heart. Quickly looking around them and finding no one, she took him into her arms, "There, there, little one." The boy continued to cry, "I know," she soothed gently, laying him down on a nearby table, "I know. Your tummy hurts, yes. There, there." Her fingers gently probed his belly and there was no mistake. "You have enough wind in there to start a gale," she cooed, slowly starting to massage, guiding the wind around his insides.
A satisfying pop caught her ear. "There's a start," she approved.
Slowly the boy's cries started to ease and after ten minutes, he was staring up at her with a wide smile, "There, that feels better," she bent low over the boy and pressed kisses to his chest, "hmm, much better." The boy's small hands cupped her face, and with a few more kisses she was rewarded with an adorable laugh, "Does that tickle?" she kissed even more, making his laugh louder.
Amdiel watched her keenly, "You're a magician, Eryndes."
She righted herself and continued to massage, "My mother was the magician, I am her understudy at best."
"Nestdôl never takes the time-"
"Well, let's not dwell. You will have to do as I have just done, for if Nestdôl caught me we both would be hauled over the hot coals."
Amdiel stepped beside her, "Aye, you'd better show me again-"
"What are you doing?!" an enraged voice boomed through the room.
Both women looked guiltily at the doorway. Nestdôl must've been just waiting for her to disobey. That or Bregol told his grandfather just where to find her.
And now they were caught.
Quickly, both Amdiel and her wrapped the boy back up and placed him protectively into his mother's arms.
"Nestdôl," she tried to reason, "He had wind. I did naught but coax the air out-"
"You were told! You were ordered!"
Both Eryndes and Amdiel held the other, both urging the other towards the door, "Nestdôl, calm down. It was just a massage and Amdiel was with me the whole time-"
"What does that matter?" he demanded, following them as they tried to escape.
"I was supervised!"
Amdiel reached the door first and pulled Eryndes along with her, "He is my son and I was here the whole time!"
That didn't count it seemed. "I ordered you to remain at distance from the children!" he boomed.
Outside, Eryndes felt a little more courage in the cool air, "Yes, we all know why!" she cried, "It has nothing about an ancient law. You will never bend me to your will!"
Nestdôl stormed after them, "How long until all your friends turn on you? How long before all the women demand you cleave?" he stood before, throwing a finger into her face, "It's your fault. Your disobedience that has led to this-"
"My disobedience?" Eryndes cried even louder, her heart in her mouth and shoved his finger away, "I am mistress of this house-"
"An old maid in charge of Carthal? Is there nothing more preposterous! If it wasn't for your 'brother' you would've done as you were told years ago and we'd have a master! Not some 'girl' pretending to be a lady."
Eryndes swallowed, begging her eyes to remain dry, "Done as I was told? As I was told!" she wailed, "My father and brother's ashes not even cooled and yet I was held up for stock auction to be purchased by the highest bidder! At fifteen!"
Nestdôl's 's hatred for her stabbed from his eyes, "Had your mother not sent for Aragorn to rescue you, had you done as asked, opened your damned legs we'd have an heir-"
"How dare you?!" she cried, her hand flying to strike him.
Her hand never found his face. Even for an old man, he was quicker and stronger, holding her painfully by her wrist, "Perhaps the stock auction should recommence," he pulled her in closer to him, digging his bony fingers into her chin and she whimpered in pain, "only this time, witch, you'll be on your back and learning your place before sundown!"
"Nestdôl!" Holding her son away with one arm, she lunged with the other, trying to pry him off her, "You're hurting her!"
"Be gone, girl!" he snarled at Amdiel.
"Let her go!" Amdiel pleaded, pulling at his hand. "Let her go!"
Nestdôl released Eryndes' chin then backhanded Amdiel across her face. With a squeal, she fell to the stone ground, her baby still clutched in her arm.
"Amdiel!" Eryndes tried to get to her fearing the worst. An unforgivable hand gripped her wrist stopped her.
Amdiel regained her feet, still cradling the boy; she'd used her body to shield her son from the ground. "Aragorn!"
Nestdôl stopped and looked around. So did Eryndes.
Then she saw him, running towards them and her heart leapt.
"Strider, come once more to the rescue," Nestdôl flung his hatred in Aragorn's direction. "You had your chance; the true masters' of the Dúnedain will have this wench earning her keep-"
Aragorn wrenched Nestdôl away from her, tearing her away from his hold and stepping between them.
"Eryndes?" Aragorn ordered with his back to her, "Take Amdiel. See to the boy."
Quickly, Eryndes did as she was told, walking as briskly as her skirt allowed her, linking arms with Amdiel.
Behind her Aragorn calmly spoke to Nestdôl, calmly, but low and gravely, "You've done it this time, old man. Do not think your age will save you from my whip!"
"Don't forget who I am-"
"Who you are? I am Chieftain of the Dúnedain!"
"More like an orphan from a disgraced house! No one will allow you to punish me."
Shaking, Eryndes kept her and Amdiel moving but glanced back at them. Aragorn held Nestdôl by his collar, stopping the old man from striking him, "Even if that were true," Aragorn pulled him even closer to his face, "it wouldn't stop me. You will be punished, by my word you will. But hear me now, if you ever lay another hand to woman, I will drag you behind my horse until there is nothing left."
"Come," Eryndes whispered to Amdiel who was watching the men, "Shh," Eryndes forced a smile at Brui she didn't feel as she wiped at her wet face. "I should check him." Amdiel nodded and gently handed over the wailing boy to her, "Come now, it is over, little one. No need to cry. There there. Shhh."
"Eryndes?"
Sindar came hastily towards them, the crinkle between his brows lowering as his eyes widened fiercely seeing Amdiel's bleeding lip. "(You are hurt)." His head whipped around to where Aragorn was dragging Nestdôl away by the back of his collar.
"Master Elf?" she asked carefully, placing a hand upon his arm. She could feel the rock-hard straining of his muscles through the silky tunic and she wondered if Nestdôl was destined to spend his last living moments with a pack of wargs.
"I'm alright, Sindar," Amdiel said softly, bouncing little Brui trying to settle him.
"Forgive us," Eryndes said strongly enough to draw the enraged elf's attention back to them. "We must check him."
"What of you?" he turned back to them, blinking, his eyes darting between her and Amdiel.
Forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile, Eryndes let go of him satisfied he wouldn't be slicing Nestdôl into fish bait. "We will live, Master Elf."
He step after her, "Will you not allow me to help you?"
She wanted to refuse, but the plea robbed her of the heart to do so. He needed to help, more than the help was needed. She gave in, "Amdiel took a strike to her head and I need to gather medicine. Will you take Brui and guide Amdiel to sit by the fire in the hall?"
Sindar was startled and glanced at Brui in disbelief. But then slowly held out his hands. He obviously knew nothing about holding infants. Carefully she and Amdiel placed the still wailing boy into his hands, training his arm around to cradle Brui.
Sindar looked anything but comfortable holding the boy, but he nodded to Amdiel and lead her towards the hall with his free arm.
He glanced back at her, and saw her wiping her eyes again. But he didn't stop. He held the boy like he was made of delicate crystal, Amdiel on his arm and took them inside.
Finally alone in the supply cupboard, Eryndes gripped the shelving for balance, tears forcing their way down her face. Sucking air down her throat, she tried to gather herself. Trying valiantly to suppress all the turmoil down, deep, and regain control.
Just the way her mother taught her. Breathing deeply again and again, she slowly began to feel better. Standing tall again, Eryndes wiped the tears from her face. Reaching for a vial, she dabbed cooling gel under her eyes. Given a few seconds, the gel took away the heat and puffiness and returned her face to normal.
Finding the other supplies she needed, Eryndes straightened her dress, patted her hair, and closed the door behind her.
When she came to their chosen fire, she found Amdiel snuggling with her son in an armchair, the boy still crying without pause. Sindar stood beside her chair, arms crossed, eyes watching everything that moved. He looked like a guardsmen, guarding the woman and child from any further harm.
She set down a full tray upon the table, "Sit, Master Elf," she coaxed him gently, "There is no more trouble here."
His eyes narrowed and briefly she was troubled she'd upset him. But he sighed and did as she bid, taking the seat across from her.
"Eryndes?" Amdiel said softly, "I'm so sorry. I should never have brought little Brui to you. I never thought Nestdôl would-"
"Shh," Eryndes handed her a cup of wine, "Nestdôl's just a bitter old man."
"I've never seen him violent before. He might've hurt Brui," Amdiel took a sip before pressing a kiss to her son's brow, "I tried to shield him."
"You did," she soothed, trying to work down her own tears. "however I will still need to check him anyway." She spread a small amount of scented oil over a cloth-
"What is that?"
Eryndes looked up to see Sindar watching her.
"Oil from herbs. It will help ease his fright, calm him." She handed the cloth to Amdiel who knowingly placed it on the boy's small chest.
"I find it," Sindar paused, "astounding one so small makes so loud a noise."
Despite what just happened, both her and Amdiel giggled softly.
"It's a good sign," Amdiel told him, wiping her face with a sniff, "Means he's strong and healthy."
Sindar studied Brui with those melted silver eyes. "By your reckoning alone, he will be the strongest and healthiest Dúnedan of all."
Amdiel laughed again, then grimaced touching her lip, "You mustn't have spent much time around babies, then?"
Sindar's head tilted a little to the side, "Indeed not. Never. Before today I never held one so small." He sobered, "The noise is astounding."
"You get used to it," she resettled the boy on her arm, his cries slowly easing and his eyes becoming heavy, "And find it when they don't cry worries you the most."
Sindar frowned and glanced at Eryndes.
Eryndes smiled and handed him a cup of wine from the tray, "Children should be full of life, not silent."
He took the cup, "(Thank you)."
"Nestdôl," Amdiel said, then looked around them to make sure she'd not be overheard, "Your father would have him strung up by his wrists."
"Amdiel," she warned, "Aragorn will see to his punishment."
"He should be slain."
Amdiel and Eryndes looked to Sindar in shock. Sindar stared back at them, "In Lasgalen, his conduct would not be tolerated. He would have been put to death. Immediately."
Amdiel found her voice first, "Have many been executed?"
"None," he bit out. "Elves do not attack the defenceless, or women and children."
"Eryndes?" Aragorn came swiftly along the line of tables, "Amdiel? Are either of you hurt? How's the boy?"
Eryndes watched Sindar as Amdiel answered, "Brui seems unhurt but my husband will demand justice-"
"You have my word Nestdôl will be dealt with," Aragorn put his hand on Amdiel's shoulder and knelt down, "May I see him?"
While Aragorn checked over Brui, Eryndes kept Sindar in her sights. He was yet to glance in his friend's direction.
"He appears to be fine," Aragorn assured Amdiel, dabbing his finger into the salve pot and smearing it over her split lip, "But I'd feel more comfortable keeping you both close to the manor overnight."
"Of course," Amdiel agreed, taking her son back from him. "Thank you."
Still kneeling, Aragorn turned to her-
"You need not examine me," Eryndes quipped, a bout of unease tingling up her spine. From where the feeling came she didn't know; she only knew she'd have preferred it if Sindar wasn't there to witness.
Aragorn gave her a patient but stern stare.
"Truly, I am not hurt," she declared with her best smile, "Unless my pride counts?"
She knew she wasn't convincing him. Aragorn always knew better of her. He knew her better than anyone did.
He lightly touched her chin and peered in close-
"Aragorn," she laughed awkwardly and leant away from his touch, her face growing hot.
He retracted his hand and stood, "As you wish. We will talk about this later."
Eyes dropping to the floor, Eryndes' felt her throat thicken.
"Sindar?" she heard Aragorn ask flatly and her head rose quickly. Across from her, Sindar still didn't acknowledge him.
"I must speak with you."
Eryndes kept quiet, trying to look anywhere but at her brother or his best friend. Whatever their quarrel, calling them fools in private was one thing, but she knew far better than to interfere.
Finally she couldn't bare it and raised her eyes to Sindar. The coldness to his silver pools didn't warm, but he'd finally looked to his friend.
Slowly Sindar placed his wine on the table and gracefully rose to his feet. Without word they walked away.
"What was that about?" Amdiel whispered and Eryndes quickly waved for her to be silent. Aragorn would've heard her, and to the elf she might've as well shouted.
"Not our business," Eryndes told her as they watched them go, walking side by side, the air between them stiff with silence.
She only hoped when they returned the rift between them would be healed.
The door to the war-room closed sharply after the last rangers quickly retreated.
"Am I forbidden to beg forgiveness for words spoken last night?"
Legolas didn't look at him, "What did you say that was not true? I cannot offer Carthal's salvation. What right do I have to ask you not to encourage her union with another?"
Aragorn stepped towards him-
"But you too are at fault. You cannot even protect your own sister. Were her heart mine, I would not-"
"Yet she is not!" Aragorn looked down, hating his loss of temper. "She is mine to protect."
Legolas' squeezed his fists hard against his thighs, "You do not protect her well enough. Today's happenings are proof enough."
"Sindar," Aragorn implored, "Legolas. I am not your father. I cannot do everything. I don't have eyes and ears all over Middle Earth. I am but one man," he drew himself tall, "I need help."
Silence spread between them.
Aragorn sighed, "(Will you help me)?"
Legolas looked over his shoulder, "(Help you)?"
"Yes, help me," Aragorn said firmly. "Help me protect my people. Help me protect her."
Legolas turned back away from him, "Do you know what you ask of me?"
"I do. Can you not see I am unable to do this all on my own? How can I protect my people, fight against Angmar and those in Mordor hunting me, and watch over my family? I need you. I need you on my side."
Legolas whirled around, "I am at your side!"
"But," he dared to ask, "are you on my side?"
"You are a fool, Aragorn. When have I ever not been on your side?" Legolas crossed his arms over his chest, "And you are far more capable then you give yourself credit. Within you is the blood of kings. You simply need to believe, have faith in your own strengths-"
"(Brother, help me)?"
Aragorn's plea hit the mark and Legolas didn't answer for a long pause. The war room dwelt in stillness until he heard the elf's long drawn breathe, "(I swear her under my protection, even if it be at the cost of my life)."
Aragorn sighed in relief. Moving to his side, he took his shoulder, "(Thank you)."
"However," Legolas shook off his hand. "It is with my body and bow I will help your people. I will not sacrifice Lasgalen for them." He squared his shoulders, "Nor will I protect the Dunedain by encouraging your sister to marry another."
Aragorn paused, bracing himself knowing he was already on thin ice, "Will you tell me now of your intentions?"
Legolas began to pull away-
Aragorn didn't let go and followed him, "Please. Tell me, what would you do if you had her heart?"
Legolas didn't look at him, "What do you think I would do?"
Aragon took his other shoulder as well, making him meet his eyes, "Then do it."
Legolas' confusion was clear on his face.
Aragorn slowly smiled and squeezed his hold on him, "If you are determined, regardless of your title, your father, and knowing what it would mean for your immortality, I give my consent to court and seek her hand."
Legolas gaped at him. Then he raised his chin and snorted in arrogance, "Why should I need your consent-?"
"You don't," his heart swelled against his ribs, "But you have it anyway. Who better could I ever have wished for my own sister? I dearly love you both."
Legolas stared at him at length, the slightest tinge of colour touching the tops of his cheeks, all of the arrogant facade diminishing quickly. Then reaching up, Legolas took Aragorn by the back of his head, his thumb against his jaw.
It was rare for Legolas to openly show affection this way but Aragorn bashfully held his gaze. Although Legolas was a hard elf, made hard by battle and grief, Aragorn knew he loved him. Despite the words said the night before, he'd never have wavered in his faith in Aragorn.
Not ever.
Unable to contain it any longer, Aragorn pulled his brother into his arms.
Legolas sighed loudly but then reluctantly fully returned the embrace. It must have been only the third time in sixty years he had done so.
"(Carthal is in a mess)," Legolas said finally. "(You must act)."
Aragorn nodded against him, "I know. I have a new plan."
"Indeed?"
Aragorn pulled back, "I'll start by righting a wrong that started three weeks ago."
"Which particular one did you have in mind?"
Aragorn scoffed and pushed him half-hearted away. Then stifling his grin, he lifted his head towards the war-room door, "Baradon!"
When the door didn't open, Aragorn shouted even louder, "Baradon! Now, ranger!"
Baradon came racing through the door and came to stop in sharp attention front of Aragorn, "Strider?"
Releasing a small sigh, Aragorn bowed his head, "You have been wronged and I have done naught to stop it. I've failed you. I ask for your forgiveness and I hope my next action will be a step forward in making amends to you."
Baradon stared wide-eyed, "My lord, you have never failed me-"
"I am rescinding the masters' ruling," Aragorn spoke over him, "If you still wish to marry Celegeth, you have my most sincere best wishes, and my permission."
Baradon struggled for words, and then a tentative smile grew, "Truly?"
Aragorn smiled at him and took the young man's shoulder warmly, "Truly. Go to Eryndes with a date, and have her commence preparations immediately." When Baradon hesitated, Aragorn slapped his arm, "Unless you wish to wait until after winter?"
"No. No I don't want to wait!" Baradon confirmed firmly and then threw himself at Aragorn.
Aragorn laughed and patted his young ranger on the back, "That's enough. Come, don't you have a young maiden to speak too? I'm sure she'd like to hear this news."
Baradon slowly released him with a smile broader and happier than he'd ever seen him, "Thank you, Strider!"
"You're welcome. Now go."
Legolas should've seen him coming, but he just wasn't used to men trying to hug him. Only Aragorn ever dared to embrace the haughty elf. Aragorn chuckled when Baradon slammed into him, with more force and a fiercer hold than Aragorn's, so much he was forced to take a step back. "Baradon," Legolas growled, "Get off me."
Baradon pulled back with a sly grin, "Sorry, Sindar."
Legolas shook his head but was unable to smother his smile and waved him gone, "Away with you."
Baradon shot away, beaming from cheek to cheek, and running straight for the door.
"(Nicely done)."
Aragorn turned to him happily, "Young love, what a wondrous affliction."
"As opposed to old love?"
Laughing, Aragorn coaxed him to follow, "Perhaps I should've said new love. Let's find a plate of something while we wait for the masters' outrage over what I've just done. My guess we will not have to wait long."
"Meaning?"
"The masters', Romon in particular, will not like this. When they come, and they will, they will demand all domestic decisions be directed to them."
"Are you planning to dissolve the masters' council after-all?"
"Their influence may indeed be great," Aragorn met his eyes with a curt nod, "but so is mine. This is a fight they will not win. Carthal will be once more reside under a Carthal. Not bitter old men."
Legolas studied him for a good moment. "Even after sixty years, you never fail to surprise me."
"You disapprove?"
"Of course not," Legolas snickered, "It is high time you started acting like a king."
With a stack of Sali's fresh-from-of-the-oven scones, butter and a fresh pot of mulberry jam, they arrived back in the war-room to find Faron waiting for them.
"News travels fast," Faron greeted them, eyeing the food. "Another Dúnedain wedding feast to look forward too."
"If you have come to express some disgruntlement Faron, save it," Aragorn released the cloth bundle of scones on the table.
Faron kicked back in his chair, "Why should I care about Baradon coming nuptials? Or Nestdol's comeuppance? I voted against him remember?
"So you came to watch the show? Or is it you have no duty?"
Gleaming, Faron held out a paper to him. Looking up in surprise, he shook his head, "We cannot send out hunting parties now."
Faron stood and gestured to the map-table, "The herds were late, but so is the weather. What we have now is a window of opportunity."
"The weather is not to be trusted," Aragorn sat down heavily, fearing he was in for another argument, "You know that."
"If we're going to hosting extra mouths this winter, we'll need to increase our yield."
"But to the west? There's not so much as a scrawny buck-" Aragorn trailed off seeing Faron shift his hand away from the desert wastes to further west. "That's a three week journey."
"Give me a few wagon teams," Faron pointed to the paper in Aragorn's hand, "and those six hunters and I'll come back with enough to feed everyone twice over. "
Aragorn looked like he was going to agree but then shook his head, "Faron, you're needed here."
When Faron opened his mouth, Aragorn continued firmly, "You are needed here. If I am to go south, Bear and Sindar will need all the best rangers here. You know what lies in Angmar."
Faron glanced from Aragorn to Legolas, his jaw rigid, "As you wish, Strider-"
The double doors to the war-room burst open-
"Faron! Leave us!"
Upon Aragorn's nod, Faron headed obediently for the door.
"Faron," Aragorn called after him, "we will speak more of this," he indicated the paper. "You're needed here but we'll discuss alternatives."
He bowed his head, "My lord."
As soon as the door closed, Romon pounced, "How dare you countermine the decision of the masters'!"
Aragorn calmly stood, "After Nestdôl's actions earlier, I find your presence here a little presumptuous-"
"I am an elder master of Carthal-!"
"And I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn!"
Romon paused, looking from him to Legolas then back again. "You have never wielded your authority as you should, that is why it has fallen to the masters-"
"No longer," Aragorn stated simply. "I am taking back my rightful place."
Romon pointed at Aragorn's face, "No one will follow the likes of you. The families know who the true leaders of Carthal are-"
"You mean you and Nestdôl have bullied the families into following your every order? That too stops now." With a speed unlike most men, Aragorn brushed away the offending finger, "Romon, you are removed from the council of masters'-"
"You cannot!"
Aragorn smiled down at the aged man, "I can and I have. From now on, power in Carthal rests once more upon a Carthal. How much authority the rest of the masters' possess hereafter will rest with her."
"A woman?" Romon laughed. "None would follow a silly girl!"
"Romon," Aragorn nodded towards the door, "You may go. Live out your final years in peace."
"You will live to regret this!"
"Leave us," Aragorn repeated, "Now."
Romon glared but offered no further argument and stormed off out of the room as angrily as his old legs could bare him.
Aragorn took a long, deep sigh. When Legolas remained silent, he looked back at him.
Legolas reached up to touch his shoulder and swept his hand down, "Hail, lord Aragorn."
Uncertainty ebbed at him but he returned the gesture regardless, "Only when I have you by my side."
Legolas scoffed, picking up a scone and buttered it, "You have it within you to be a great king, Aragorn, so much more than I could ever hope to be. One day, you will finally realise and accept it. And when that day comes, you will no longer need me."
"May such a dark day never arise," Aragorn quietly prayed. With a start, he headed for the door, "I think I should inform Eryndes of what I've done before word spreads." When he saw he alone went through the door, he grinned back at Legolas, "I thought you were on my side?"
A dark brow rose on pale skin.
"Well," he pressed, gesturing out the door.
Legolas made him wait until his scone was thoroughly covered with jam before joining him. "You did not forewarn Eryndes of your plan?"
Aragorn shrugged, "She will do her duty."
They walked down the hallway and down the first set of stairs. Aragorn chose that moment to breach a topic that had been playing on his mind ever since Nestdol's accusation weeks earlier. "With the dangers of politics and posturing, to be friends with an ally . . . one cannot help but feel the need for caution. Perhaps now more than ever I see why you chose to unite us in kinship."
"Nothing so cunning," Legolas answered quietly. "Do not lather appraisal where none belongs. My desire to take you as brother was more the longing for a sibling than harmony between allies. Besides, I was convinced your ears would take greater heed were the words of disapproval not to come from a friend but a brother."
Aragorn grinned widely, "I didn't have much choice but to listen after you dragged me out of that tavern."
Legolas shook his head slowly, "And my father considers 'you' the sensible one."
Aragorn came to a stop halfway down the second staircase, an idea forming in his head.
"What is wrong?"
Aragorn started back up the stairs, "Will you wait for me?"
At his nod, Aragorn spirited up the stairs.
Not three minutes later, he came running back down, "Let's go."
"Now what are you planning?"
"Your presence here pays homage to our brothership. This is something I have been remiss in and perhaps finally I can make amends."
"What are you talking about?"
Aragorn directed him to look over where Eryndes was sitting quietly over by the tables.
"A moment, please?"
With a curious eye, Legolas nodded and stood back, "By all means."
"A moment, please?" Eryndes heard Aragorn bid quietly. She looked up to see him leaving Sindar and coming towards her.
When he knelt down beside her chair, she smiled at him, "I am fine. Truly. You do not need to keep checking on me."
"Are you?"
His question cracked momentarily at her reserve, but she nodded, "It is nothing I have not heard before." She touched her wrist absentmindedly, "Felt before."
Aragorn was silent, his keen eyes searching hers. He knew her too well. But instead of probing further into her emotional stability, he took her hand in his and examined her wrist, "I have removed Romon from his position."
Eryndes gasped, "You cannot-"
"I can and I have."
"But he holds support with many of the families."
Aragorn was silent for a moment, slowly turning her hand to check for damage. "I am entitled to give and take as I see fit," he finally said, "Nestdôl is a poisonous man and so is Romon. I should have done this years ago. That goes for the council of masters."
"But who will-"
"You."
Eryndes stared at him, "No, not I-"
"You will obey me," he commanded firmly, "You will cut your duties and take over as mistress."
"No one will accept this. A woman?" she whispered. "The people, they will be angry."
Aragorn placed her hand back on the table then stood, "They will accept because I say it to be so. You are my sister and it's time you behaved as such. No more scrubbing floors or working in the fields. You were raised for this duty. It is your birthright."
She stammered, "But what am I to do?"
"Heal the sick, make medicines, order people around . . . " A stunning smile filled his face and he produced a small wooden box no bigger than her fist from his pocket, "Wear pretty things."
Eryndes stared at the box, ornately carved with decorations of leaves and vines. "Aragorn," she breathed, torn between her desperate need to look inside, and feeling sick. They had no money for luxurious trinkets.
"Open it."
Unable to contain herself she did and then was left breathless. It was a necklace of silver with a breathtakingly beautiful jewel. "Aragorn, y-you cannot."
"Give a gift to my sister?" he took it from the box and released the clasp, "Pull back your hair."
"No, Aragorn," she begged. Eru knew how much something so beautiful must have cost him. But then, what money did they have?
"It was a gift," he pulled her hair out of the way for her, "A token of thanks for a favour and homage to friendship."
Her heart raced when the delicate silver chain touched her skin, "I cannot-"
"Hush," he released it after securing the clasp, "I was waiting for your birthday next month but I want you to wear it now. It was a gift from King Thranduil."
Eryndes' jaw dropped and she struggled to find her voice, "F-from King Thranduil? It is elvish made?"
Aragorn nodded, "I helped his son chase down a creature, a menace. King Thranduil was grateful for my continued aid over the years and gifted me one of the white stones of Lasgalen, a symbol of our lasting friendship."
Eryndes went to take off the necklace, "Then you should be the one to wear it-"
Aragorn stopped her, taking her fingers away and holding her hands, "It is a lady's jewel. And I am proud to finally give you something worthy of a brother." He kissed the back of her hand, "Now, do as I say. Take up your mother's place as Mistress of Carthal and promise me you will never take it off."
Freeing a hand from him, she touched it just to prove it was real, "I promise."
Aragorn kissed her forehand, "Don't I get a thank you?"
Eryndes laughed and threw her arms around his neck, "Thank you."
He coaxed her to her feet, "I want to you be a lady."
"Only a king-"
"Am I not? And are you not my sister?" he reproached gently, "To me, to our people you are and I am a lord. And you worthy enough for any king."
Eryndes blinked, not sure she'd heard him, "Marry a king?" She laughed awkwardly, "Aragorn, please."
"A brother has not the right to think only a king worthy of his sister?"
"I don't know what to think."
"I have been remiss, as your brother."
"Aragorn, never. And we are not blood-"
"If I were to fall in battle? Should I not now set things right?"
Eryndes felt her heart stop. "Aragorn you are scaring me."
"I do not plan to fall," he soothed, "But recently I have had my eyes opened to all the wrongs I have let lie. I won't have it anymore. I want you to be as you were meant to be, a Lady of Carthal, tending the sick, leading her people, not wallowing in the mud."
Her jaw dropped, "I do not wallow in mud!"
He smiled knowing, "Tonight I will address the people. I want music. I want singing. I want dancing and for you to dress well. As Mistress you will announce the betrothal of Baradon and Celegeth then afterwards you will swear publically the oath of Carthal's allegiance to the line of kings and continued devotion to its people."
Eryndes swallowed, "You want me to swear an oath?"
Aragorn touched her chin, "Yes. I will swear you and I are bound in kinship. It won't give due ladyship in the eyes of southerners or those in Gondor, but you'll be so recognised here. Also, it's up to you," his eyes flicked behind him, "you might want to acknowledge our alliance with Thranduil and with Sindar. He is my brother."
"Am I to swear him brother too-"
"No!" he cut her off with a laugh, "No, indeed you must never. To do so would lead to folk to wonder about my true motives. Acknowledging the alliance is polite but he is my brother but not yours."
"But why?"
"You must never think of him as your brother. It's . . . an elf thing."
She easily accepted for there were so many 'elf-things' to account for with Sindar.
A random thought left her stricken, "If you do this, does this mean you plan to go south to Gondor and take your place-"
"It doesn't," he rejected firmly. "I have no wish to be king. But I will wield what little power I have to keep my people together and fiends like Nestdôl from destroying my people.
"Now," Aragorn guided her away from the table, "you have much to do. Have all available Dúnedain gather and begin preparations at once."
"You did not tell her."
Aragorn tucked a spare cloth into his pack. The afternoon was fading and they were in his room on level three, packing for Aragorn's ride south to find Gell and his rangers. "I shall but later tonight. She has much to do before then."
"My father charged me bring you his gift to symbolise the friendship of our two families."
Aragorn shrugged, "Eryndes is my family and looks far prettier on her than I."
"I thought you were going to gift it to Arwen?"
"I was and yet," his heart warmed picturing the in insurmountable beauty of his love, "Arwen lives in a fine house, has many fine clothes and jewels . . . And what of those things has my sister?"
"You misunderstand. I do not complain," Legolas told him, sitting at the end of the bed, not really helping him pack at all. "I certainly approve seeing Eryndes adorned in the gems of my people. Though perhaps a circlet in the style of my family's crest might be better-"
"It might," Aragorn walked away to his side table, taking his spare tobacco pouch and pipe, "I may wish your designs on my sister success with all of my heart, but I must remind you there is much ground to be covered before adorning her in the banners of Lasgalen."
"I am aware."
He glanced over at him, then laughed, "You are truly ill with women-"
"(I know this also)!" he snapped.
He laughed again, "And you have vile temper."
Legolas looked away from him with the stern set to his jaw.
"Melloneg," Aragorn said fondly, coming up beside him, "You are the very best of souls and truly wise, but there's a lot you hide behind a shield of haughty vanity and anger. To truly love someone, to let them love you, you'll have to let go of the shield. You must let her see who you are underneath."
His friend remained turned away but he felt the doubt in his hesitation, "What if she does not . . . like what is underneath?"
"No one can love one half of someone," He advised gently, "To love is to love wholly. That's what makes love so wonderful; it has the power to forgive even the worst of flaws."
Legolas' answer was a huff.
"Would you welcome my advice?"
Legolas' eyes narrowed but then with a sigh waved his hand, "What is this advice?"
He paused to choose his words carefully, "Do not seek out her consent for courtship now. You must wait."
"Wait?" Legolas' face furrowed, "I am determined. How is waiting at all honourable?"
Aragorn sat down heavily beside him on the bed. "I know my sister, melloneg. Think of her like a sapling; put some weight on her and she will bend, put too much too soon and she'll snap. What you offer is not easy for one so . . . sheltered. Your race and culture so foreign and more than that your father is the king of elves. You command your own army. You're almost three thousand years old, and will never age. She will age-"
"I have told you I am prepared to accept the price of mortality-"
"But is she?" Aragorn asked sympathetically. "Trust me, to allow the one you love to give up their immortality . . . it is not . . . an easy thing to do."
Legolas turned from him, brooding. "How long must I wait?"
"Until she no longer looks at you and sees an elf." Aragorn shook his head, "When you can be certain her regard is stout enough to accept the fate of the life you're offering."
"Have you been waiting long? I am so sorry-"
"Nay," Legolas gently stopped her, pulling himself out of his memories. He rose from the stone. "I was early. Shall we?"
Eryndes came to his side, "Alas I am in a terrible mood tonight and not much company-"
"Nonsense," he soothed, "The night air will refresh you."
Upon her continued reluctance, his brow rose, "Shall I mention how I have waited an entire month for our walk?"
She grimaced, "Has it really been so long?"
"Indeed. How fortunate I am patient," he admonished wryly. "Now, what is to cause your ill mood?"
"Oh!" her face soured further, which only served to intensify the light in her eyes and the pout to her lips, "ever since the masters were removed, they have been trying to cause trouble-" She trailed off with a shake of her head, "Surely, you do not wish to hear about it."
"Why should I not?" he smiled at her and gestured along the wall, "Come, what trouble have the dissolved masters caused?"
"They are coaxing families to hold their stores, refusing to get the necessary percentage to Carthal."
"No doubt pending their reinstatement?"
"Just so."
"Did not all the families renew their pledge to the line of kings and to Carthal last night?"
"Aye after I made the oath; it was expected of them."
Legolas shrugged, "Then they cannot withhold their due."
Eryndes nodded empathically, "So I have dozens of families pounding on Carthal's doors, demanding I stop the dissent. They grow weary of the infighting, especially seeing Aragorn's gone south once more."
He stopped to allow a ranger past, then took her hand and wrapped it around his arm, "What did you do?"
She scoffed, "I met with all of the masters and mistresses. The elder masters acknowledge the removal of Nestdôl and Romon was necessary, but claim their own dismissal unwise. They do not believe one can rule."
"The kings of the world may disagree."
"Kings are not women."
He watched her in the darkness, the flames from the touches along the wall lightening her dark hair and reflecting off her eyes. The sounds of the night, creatures, insects and rangers at duty filled the space between them as he regarded her. A slow smile touched the corners of his mouth. "The Dúnedain have a king. And now Carthal, a mistress."
She turned her solemn gaze upon him, question burning upon her lips.
He allowed his smile to linger and said softly, "I have no doubt you will do fine."
Her lips parted in surprise and even in the dark, his elf eyes saw the blush tinting her cheeks.
A rare self-conscious feeling quivered through him and he turned back to their path along the wall. "So, how did you deal with them, the masters?"
"After a great debate, we came to an arrangement."
"Good."
"Might have been easier with an iron skillet."
Legolas held back a laugh and said dryly, "Too heavy. Try a fire iron."
Her answering laugh lit up the night in a way no fire could ever hope.