*Thanks to all who continue to support this story.

** Thank you to Fran. Without you this chapter would have been a complete disaster. More than that, you have been an ear, a shoulder and a good friend through a very difficult time.

*** There is no set date for the next chapter. But it will come.

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I would like to dedicate this story to the one who will now never read it. Through my own shame of writing a fanfic instead of an original work, I never swallowed my pride to share it with her. I know she would've been thrilled to share this part of myself with her and trust her to understand. My hope is that she is looking over my shoulder each time I pick up the laptop and spell out the letters to the words I don't know how to spell.

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For my mum, with all my love.

*Mother VQ , 1948-2019*

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Dramatis Personæ

Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger
Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger

Briel - Female, Dunedain child
Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms
Cordoves/Swan – Female, ranger
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gell - Male, Commander Rangers of the Wild

Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables

Mereniel- Female, ranger

Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Romon - Former Masters council member
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm

Tauriel - Sylvan Female, Captain of the Woodland Guard
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command

Legolas felt Eryndes' eyes following his back as he left the great hall. Indeed many of the eyes of the hall watched him. It had not been his intention to be tended by her. Nor an audience bear witness to their business.

Of all the conversations he'd practiced in his head during their two week flight to Carthal . . . Of all the things he might've said. Or what he'd expected her to say.

'Remind her why she loves you'?

Being here now, staring down those fierce blue eyes . . . Vivid and fierce trying to wilt him with her anger. Only instead of wilting him, inflamed his blood. Even now his skin remembered her touch, the taste of her breath-

Pupils enlarged, breath shallow; she too had felt the pull.

The lock was broken, the box smashed. Their kiss, their passion, their love. He knew. So did she. No matter how she may resist, he saw her heart in her eyes.

Legolas lamented; his father's advice seemed like wisdom three weeks earlier.

If no reminder was needed, then what was he to do?

"The rangers' wish me to report the ones named Faron and Cordoves left with our own scouts to track down the enemy."

Legolas blinked away his thoughts. "Faron 'and' Cordoves?" That was surprising.

Tauriel nodded, but her expression tight, "They do not trust us."

"Nay," he countered, "It is not mistrust."

"Then, my lord?"

"Duty." Legolas didn't feel much like a long explanation of the individual motives and strong personalities of both rangers. Their strong loathing for each other, yet their ingrained dedication to duty towards their people.

Tauriel caught on and knew to move on. "Our rider was successfully set upon his journey. Thranduil will hear of your victory within weeks. I strongly discouraged any mention of your injuries."

"(I'm obliged)," he muttered.

"Your father-"

"-does not need know my every ailment."

"Sindar-"

"Before we left I requested wagons to aid the Dunedain in feeding us. My father agreed but alas," he cut her off, "Alas I do not expect to see them for two months. We must rely on Carthal's stores and what we may forage to ease the strain on their larder."

For a moment they walked in silence out of the great hall and along the hallway. Tauriel's bearing was ill at ease.

"I included news of Aragorn's departure for the south."

"You are troubled?" she asked, "The Dunedain say Strider does this often. They do not like it, but it happens. Aragorn's heart, they say, is not here."

Legolas knew that was true. "Aragorn leaves his people when the risk of battle hence? No, I am not troubled; I am deeply troubled. What news could take him away and not explain to his only sister?"

Legolas could but pray Aragorn was being careful and Mithrandir knew what he was doing. His strides hit the floor with more force.

Tauriel crept in closer. "(She was furious with you)."

Legolas allowed his thoughts of his honour brother fade. "(That is funny)?"

She nudged him with her elbow, "(If she felt nothing why would your self-neglect anger her)?"

A reasonable point. Yet not enough to soothe the hopelessness of the encounter. "(You do not like her)."

From under her arm, she produced a clean tunic and took the ruined one from him. "(She rejected my lord; I am duty bound to hate her)."

Pulling the tunic over his head, they didn't pause striding up the stairs to the second level. "(Is that all)?"

Her smirk was broad enough to swallow a piglet, "I never suspected your tastes preferred an . . . ample bosom)?"

"(I hadn't noticed-)," he stopped. He'd noticed. And admired. Many, many times. He cleared his throat, "(A coincidence of fortune)."

Tauriel laughed as they rounded to the second set of stairs, her scrutiny acute.

He held his chin high and forced down the need to squirm.

She lent closer. "(My lord, you're blushing)."

Legolas let out a harsh breath but her bountiful smile, devastating in its beauty, failed to diminish under his pointed glare. She did however lower her head, "(Forgive my teasing)."

Quickening his pace, Legolas turned his attention to his path, his cheeks unbearably hot.

"(Your heirs certainly shalln't starve)."

Choking, his boot missed a step. He snatched the rail with his injured hand to stop stumbling and hissed quietly.

"(Last time. Promise)."

She sobered, reaching out, to take his injured hand to inspect it. "(She tends you well. I admit I watched. Your father never would have trusted his son to mortal medicine)."

"If indeed you did watch then you saw nothing was amiss."

"(Perhaps)." She let his hand go, "(If she knew your name would her tongue be so free)?"

"(Nothing will change whence my name is known)."

When Tauriel offered no further comment, he looked at her in question.

Her eyes swept away.

Tauriel didn't need to speak for her opinion was well told.

"My lord," she tempted quietly just before they reached the top level, "(I dread her further injuring you)."

From across the hallway his students saw them and quickly approached.

"Sindar!" Baradon called, striding straight for them and threw himself at Legolas before he could stop him.

"Baradon," Legolas huffed, "I am wounded."

Laeron pulled Baradon back, "Didn't you hear, he's wounded," then he too threw his arms around him.

"Enough," Legolas growled then cuffed both young men fondly, "(My heart is light seeing you both unharmed)."

Both of them smiled sheepishly.

Feeling uncomfortable, Legolas gestured to them, "Tauriel, captain of the Lasgalen guard meet Baradon and Laeron."

"My lady," both men bowed synchronously.

Tauriel returned the gesture, "(Well met). Please, it's Captain or Tauriel."

Baradon accepted with a sharp nod, but Laeron moved in and took her hand, "Of all the women in the land, none other could ever be as worthy to be called a lady."

Tauriel flicked an unimpressed glance at Legolas, then took back her hand, "Laeron, son of Urion is it? My lord Sindar has told of your loose ways with your women-folk. I warn you not to play the same with me."

From behind Laeron, Baradon barked a laugh, "Don't mind him, Captain. He means no harm. He's still just a boy."

"Indeed," Legolas agreed firmly, cutting off Laeron's retort.

Tauriel beamed at Baradon, "May I offer blessings on your recent marriage? I am told your wedding was a most delightful affair."

"Thank you. We were honoured by Sindar's participation-"

"Come," Legolas broke away from the group, "There will be time aplenty for pleasanter talk. For now I must learn what has happened to our enemy while my body was being stitched back together."

000

Legolas waited for Urion's decision. The question seemed simple; stay or flee. His friend still stared down the large map table, but his weary eyes did not move over the lines and mounds of the northern lands surrounding Carthal.

No, they were stationary. Urion was deep in thought-

"There is much you still aren't telling us."

Slowly, deliberately slowly, Legolas' eyes shifted to Gell. "It may have escaped your notice, 'commander', I and a whole company of my lord's elves are here in Carthal, we maybe strong but cannot defeat an army unaided. If there were secrets pertaining to Carthal's safety, do you think me fool enough to withhold?"

Gell was not satisfied, "Such a statement would comfort if we were certain of your continued residence."

"We have come with all speed, a three week journey ridden hard down to two. We have helped break the siege. How dare you question our motives?" Tauriel threw a pointed finger at Legolas, "We bled for you!"

"Tauriel," Legolas soothed his impassioned friend. "What I do not say is something Aragorn has long dismissed."

Gell threw out his arms, "We are not Aragorn."

Legolas patted Tauriel on the arm. She nodded and relaxed. "I see what most do not, shadows in bright light, wind, I feel the air, the breath of the Earth." He shook his head, "'Tis difficult to explain."

"I've witnessed your . . . perceptions," Baradon spoke up, "We all have." Beside him Laeron nodded.

"And none other has this sight?" Gell asked.

"I know of none, but I know not everyone."

"Then? What have you seen?"

Legolas faced Urion, "Centuries have passed while the unseen grows. Whispers of promised darkness, terror. Others, powered in magicks have felt its chill. Fear. What was halted sixty years ago, was it a mere setback?" he looked around at all in their company, "Again the shadows spill forth and evil fouls the air. Aragorn knows this. Mithrandir knows this. As does those amongst the elven authority."

His gaze dropped, "My king believes it to be echoes of the dark-lord's power."

The silence that followed was unnerving.

"You think Angmar's somehow answering to Sauron's influence?"

"Not his influence. The spirit of Sauron did not perish," he swallowed. "Darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land," he said, announcing from a place deep inside him.

"Sauron was destroyed."

"He was encountered sixty years ago," Tauriel answered for him. "He was encountered and sent away. Thranduil knows the full account of the happening. But his spirit is anchored to this world."

"But why-?"

"Why sack Carthal?" Legolas raised his eyebrows.

"If that is even their mission." The timber in Urion's voice told his decision was made. Legolas waited, holding his breath.

"They will return and we cannot escape. Not in winter. Not without killing half our number."

"So we stay?" Laeron asked his father.

"At least until the world thaws." Urion stood tall and solid, and the aging warrior addressed Legolas, "What are the conditions of your continued aid?"

Tauriel hissed but Legolas expected the question. It was not unreasonable to ask. Reaching up, he touched his own shoulder, "It is our honour to defend Carthal and its people. I will heed your orders, as long as they are not contradictory my mission or bring my soldiers to slaughter." He dropped his hand, "For as long as my lord Thranduil wishes."

"Sindar, my friend," Urion rubbed his chin, " you and I have never been at odds. You needn't swear to follow-"

"In times of war, melloneg, there can only be one general on the battlefield. Defense of Carthal is yours," he glanced at Tauriel, "We stand with you."

000

The great hall packed full of wounded afforded no place for eating. Instead the women of the kitchen set up one long table to serve a late dinner in the ground level hallway. All waited in line to take their plate of whatever could be prepared in the aftermath of the siege.

Along the line many of the Dunedain were eager to engage the elves in conversation.

Some of Legolas' soldiers managed well, few even laughing with their hosts.

Others, however, did not.

Legolas sympathised; the Dunedain were loud and their conversations varied greatly. "They will adjust," he told Tauriel, "I did."

Nearby Sali flitted about on her frail legs, moving amongst the line, smiling and offering mugs of ale from a tray. Coming closer, she spied Legolas, and gushed forward, "Oh, Sindar, there you are!"

Legolas offered her a polite bow and even a smile. He wondered at the strange workings of the world realising he'd missed her and her unusual, completely inappropriate ways, "Good evening, mistress."

"Wounded yet delectable as always," she purred. "But why are you in the line? Our saviour does need not wait-"

He stopped her gently, "The battle was won by many, Sali. I shall wait my turn."

Sali snorted, nearly losing a mug of ale from her tray, "Ridiculous! But look at what you've brought me? So many fair faces from your home. This old woman may die of joy. Or heart rupture."

Legolas chuckled, his amusement increasing feeling Tauriel shift uncomfortably beside him, "I aim to please."

Sali regarded Tauriel, seeing her for the first time, "And this is your wife? A handsome couple you make-"

"We are not a couple," Tauriel rushed, "I am captain and friend. Tauriel of Lasgalen."

"This is Sali, Mistress of Kitchen," Mydedis cut in from the side, "Who's tasked this evening with providing refreshments to ease the wait."

Sali scoffed and held up her tray, "As I am doing."

When Mydedis coaxed Sali out of the way, she held out a hand to Legolas, "We're so grateful to have you back with us, my dear Sindar."

Legolas took her hand in genuine affection, "As I am to see you well."

Mydedis waved away his words bashfully.

He hesitated, "I almost fear to ask-"

"Eryndes is well."

Blinking, Legolas' words died in his throat-

"He knows," Tauriel put in for him helpfully. "'Twas by her hand my lord was mended."

"Ah," Mydedis addressed Tauriel, "I hope you and your soldiers feel welcome here, captain?"

"We do, thank you mistress."

"Forgive me, Sindar, what was your question?"

"Foruyndes?"

His heart stopped when she darkened, "Foruyndes is kept in bed lately. The winter does her lungs no good. She sneaks out though and where then we give chase and drag her back to bed."

Legolas let out his breath. "I kept expecting her to appear. When she did not . . ."

"Look in on her tomorrow if you can wait. She must rest. Try not to worry. Foruyndes will outlive the moon on pure stubbornness." Mydedis held his hand a moment, then turned back to them before heading back inside the hall, "Don't forget to see the children, Sindar. They were very angry when you left."

Legolas nodded, "On the morrow."

"Children?" Tauriel smirked. "I did not think you fond of children."

Nearing the front of the line, they'd turned the last of the corners and he saw her.

More correctly, he saw them.

"My lord?"

Legolas didn't answer.

After what his grandfather had done. After what he'd tried to do. Why was she with him?

She'd seen him too, seen him watching them. Turning away, Eryndes led Bregol through the crowd out towards the stairs.

He watched their every step, and how Bregol carried her plate and she their ales. Eryndes never let anyone carry her things.

"My lord?"

"Enjoy your meal, Tauriel," he bit out without taking his eyes off Eryndes, "I am not hungry."

000

It was late. Time didn't seem to matter anymore. Outside the rangers were anew, spirits bolstered by the elven reinforcements. Works continued to repair damaged buildings and walls. Guards kept a sharp eye around the wall.

Their enemy had been driving off. For how long not even the elves could tell.

Bregol and her stopped a few hours earlier, time enough to join the line for dinner, before returning to the wounded.

Now the hour was close to midnight, if she were to guess. She rubbed her eyes. A strong cup of tea would keep her going until Gueniel would relieve her from duty in a few more hours.

Walking between the benches towards the tea kettles by the fire, Eryndes saw something move.

She gasped, silver eyes came out from the darkness, then joined by pale skin and golden hair. Sindar.

His eyes were hard, focused on her, wide and unblinking, and under his fierce regard, Eryndes shrank, "I-"

"You seek to avoid me? My presence so darkens your heart? Sours your sight? And so you keep company with another? With Bregol?"

Her heart sank and burned. "By the stars no, I-"

"(Dare not lower your eyes)!" His voice did not match the face she'd seen; not harsh but beseeching, and she looked up in surprise. Only to find his expression had not changed.

Eryndes caught her breath. His appearance startled her but the accusations behind his words- "I accepted Bregol as my apprentice. For whatever my feelings Carthal needs more healers as they keep dying. Bregol and I have done nought but seen to the wounded for days." She tossed her words, "And I assumed your desire for my distance."

"(Why ever would you assume that)?" he whispered harshly, his mouth a hard line.

"I don't- I don't know."

Baring his teeth, he stalked closer.

"Can you not see?" Eryndes stumbled backwards, gushing, her initial retaliation giving way to grief. "I am sorry. For goodness sake, I'm sorry for everything!"

"(Yes, I know you are)," His voice was as hard as his face.

Her hip struck a bench and she could retreat no more. Tears stung her eyes and she cried out with the words she'd forsaken on that fateful day, "I love you!"

"(I know)." Sindar caught her face in both hands, his lips met hers and immediately she opened herself to him. The uncertainty of their first kiss long forgotten, instead they drew on the other like two lovers long separated.

She held onto his wrists not daring more. The bench behind her pressed hard into her hip but she didn't stop.

She was afraid. Fear of what though? Whatever it was, she was terrified.

Their lips broke apart and he held her head to his, their breath mixing, the heat from hid body joining with hers.

She dared not open her eyes. She would not welcome back reality, for it would take this away from her.

Releasing his wrist, she caressed over his smooth cheek, her fingertips tentatively traced over his ear tip, down the strong column of his neck, following his collarbone to grip his shoulder. There was a nameless desperation behind her featherlike touch. By the barest margin was it held back. Her heart pounded ruthlessly under the strain of it. Her legs trembled.

His brow smoothed over hers, angling, a change in his breath her only warning.

His unbangaged hand ensnare her, pulling her up and flush with him, their devastating kiss resuming. It was wonderful. It tore at her will, her resolution.

The pressure to her hip increased and she wrapped her arms around him to ease the discomfort-

Sindar hissed into her mouth; she'd forgotten his wound. He ripped away from her. Stunned, she searched his face before he stalked away back the way he came and found it haunting. The same vulnerability when he had pledged his love after she'd turned down their marriage.

Eryndes touched her lips. Watching him stand there with his back to her, she opened her mouth, desperate to speak, to work up the courage-

To say something. Something to take away all this pain and misery-

Eryndes jumped. The doors flapped open behind her Tauriel stopped her purposeful march two steps in. She looked from her to Sindar, her expression not hard to read. "My lord?" she asked, her lovely eyes still hard upon Eryndes.

"Yes, captain?" Sindar answered, his voice once more even and commanding. He faced them, his expression matching his voice. All evidence of what transpired gone.

Tauriel moved past Eryndes, effectively blocking her out of the conversation, "Your company is bedded down and horses cared for. I am pleased to report Aglarebon is responding well and should heal in time-"

Eryndes quietly closed the door behind her, leaving the two elves to their business. Knowing she had no right to feel anything did nothing to ease the swell in her throat.

What happened was a moment of weakness, a ghost of what had been before. He could not forgive her and the hurt they caused each other not easily forgotten.

Choking down the words she'd almost said before Tauriel's intrusion, Eryndes walked out.

000

He knew she was there before the door had finished opening. He heard the soft touch of her boots on the frozen muddy stones. He heard her quiet breath. He smelled the fresh and clean aroma of her scent, no longer hidden by the stench of death, battle, dried blood clinging to her clothes. She'd washed and changed since their earlier encounter in the kitchen.

At that moment Legolas much preferred the stench of the post-battle-toiled healer. It matched his mood.

Remaining still, eyes trained to the darkness, he did not acknowledge her.

His heart was heavier than ever. Not an hour before, his jealousy taunted him into confronting her, and unwisely so. Pulled by powerful emotion, he'd spoken without thinking. Acted without thinking.

She may not have rejected his passion. But how were they to repair the rift? Regain lost trust?

Legolas feared for his part, nothing short of her acceptance of marriage would heal him.

This fear left a bitter cloud over his soul.

"Have you come to once more offer your apology?" he asked loudly, not waiting for her to finally speak, "I will not hear it."

"You will not hear me?" her voice was surprisingly clear. She stopped beside him, close but for a slither of space between them. Close enough to detect the added warmth of lavender to her usual customary perfume.

He exhaled the fragrance, unwilling to let its pleasantness lift his spirits. "Unless you intend to speak your oath of marriage."

"You speak marriage yet never once of courtship. Can you honestly say that was fair?" her words caught, "I thought my feelings were unconscionable. The months I'd wept from the dagger in my heart-"

His eyes sank from the dark horizon. "(I did not know)."

Her long sigh made him tense but then relaxed when her fingers touched his hand. They were cold and tiny against his. The need for physical contact was strong and he found it impossible to pull away. "You may not hear me but I am sorry-"

"(You're correct; I do not hear you)." His hand slipped away from hers-

-only to be retaken, her fingers meshing into his. "I hurt you."

"(Yet is nothing compared to your continued refusal)."

The night air was empty for a long pause. He still did not look at her. Seeing her face only hurt more.

"You suppose my choice painless? Do you not think I wish it?" she whispered harshly, "That I could ever want anything more? My heart, my soul, I love you."

Words. Empty words without pledge. Without intent. "(Then accept my offer-)"

"I will not be your death!"

He pulled his hand from her grasp. "Look around you," he pointed out into the blackness, "folk living and dead a moment hence. Are those who died better forgotten? Does being dead negate the life they lived? Does Joust not matter and the life he led mean nothing-?"

"Stop!"

Finally he faced her. His pain bled to his tongue, baring nothing but the wish to be brutal. Her horrified face gave him no pause, "My life, too, as is with my love counts for nothing? Because you fear my death? Or because I choose my fate, not you?"

Her sharp intake of air and widening eyes , "That is not true."

He glared down at her, his blood rising. "Is it not?"

"No!"

His scoff was loud. He was not laughing, though. He was not amused.

Feeling poured from her eyes, her small stature rigid, her own fists clenched and panting breath matching his. He bared his teeth, unknowing whether he would shake her into sense or kiss her senseless.

He decreased the distance between them, intent on discovering which-

Eyes wide, Eryndes backpedaled to create a chasm between them. "You are a powerful warrior with a true mind," she chilled from the doorway, "I doubt anyone ever makes choices for you. I wouldn't dare try."

"(Troll-filth)!" he snapped, muscled flexing to the challenge the distance she'd put between them, "(Your actions contradict your words)."

She flinched at his curse. "Then damn me for caring!"

Staring at the empty doorway, he tried to remain still. But her bitter condensation fuelled his loss of temper.

His 'true' mind festered. Blood sang in his ears.

A surge of heat stemmed from his every vein.

No.

His feet set off after her.

She was not difficult to track.

Turning down another corridor, he saw he hastily duck into a supply cubby.

He didn't knock. Wrenching open the door wide and startling her, he slammed it behind him.

"What are-?"

Seizing her, he silenced her with his mouth. Like before she didn't resist him. She should, really should.

Eryndes gave the need no pause. Her mouth, so willing and warm, tasting faintly of ale, seduced.

His fingers tangled in her thick black hair and held her head back to trail his mouth along the underside of her jaw.

Down her exposed neck.

He opened his lips over her collarbone, tasting her. Skin supple and smooth. Fragrant; flowers, and lavender and her.

She shuddered, her breath sharp and loud in his ears.

A groan sounded from his throat discovering the exquisite curve of her breasts, bound by her dress yet still free enough to fill his palms, his fingers shaping, squeezing in delight.

Her answering sweet sigh thrilled him, provoking him. Capturing her mouth again, hungrily, he stole her tongue into his mouth.

The hunger grew, insurmountable and insacious. He was hers. She claimed him wholly. In the most basic rule of life and love, he belonged to her.

She was his wife. Every part of his heart and body shrieked in confusion. They loved as one, mated in soul, but not yet body?

He grasped flesh he'd longed coveted, hands splaying over the delicious span of her backside. Squeezing, her weight nothing to his strength, he pulled her up against him, her abdomen hard against the ache of his erection, grinding them together in primal need.

His wife and she wanted him. By her kiss, her fierce grip upon him, the scent tantalizing the air. This knowledge along with her muffled moan against his mouth drove forth his madness.

"Sindar."

His eyes flew open, her use of his false name jarring him back into sense. "For pity's sake!" he cried, dropping her back down to the ground. Panting hard, his body was completely inflamed. He felt on fire. "Tell me to stop!"

Her fingers in his hair held him firm. Did she not speak. Her trembled breath tickled against his ear and neck.

What had he done? Almost done?

Screwing up his face, he let go of her and stumbled back like she'd scolded him. She stared, wide eyed, her face and lips red, her hair messed. Her clothing-

His wounded back hit the shelves and he welcomed the stab of pain.

He turned away from her. Not wife, but tormentor; his siren.

The siren's taste lingered in his mouth. Her scent gently hued his clothes. He felt her in his fingers; lovely firm and slender in places, deliriously soft and squishy in others.

The mouthwatering musk of feminine lust, savoury against the sweetness of her perfume, clung to the air, inside his nostrils. Intoxicating his mind.

"(The Creator have mercy upon me)."

Eryndes' little booted feet shuffled along the floor towards him, "Don't. Please. You're right, I didn't tell you to stop. The dishonour is mine. I should've but didn't- because I didn't want to stop-"

The slam of the door silenced her.

She didn't follow.

Legolas used his long legs to their fullest and didn't stop marching until he'd met the stone wall at it's farthest from the manor.

000

Carthal did not sleep that night. The coming of the dawn was met with constant striking of metal between metals, stone grinders working on edges. There were ten separate parties raising rock with hoists to repair the wall; elf straining the ropes alongside human.

When dawn passed with the first rays of a new day, all work stopped.

The precession was done with much less grandeur than the Dunedain usually afforded. However sacrifices were expected in times of war.

The loss was no less felt.

Eryndes stood alone. No comfort to be found with Aragorn's urgent departure to the south.

No comfort came from her lover either who stood on the other side of the pyre. Standing across the way with his captain Tauriel and their kin, watching silently and as still as made from stone. At no time did he spare Eryndes a glance.

Even now, a mound of dead friends before her and yet Eryndes still felt his touch. Torrid and impassioned, inciting her body to cleave and crumble, then beg for more. Like a wanton tramp.

Her face burned at the memory. Her body burned to resume where they left off.

Had he not stopped . . . Eryndes knew she wouldn't have stopped him. No, she would've pleaded with him to take her.

Her blush burned hotter recalling feeling his own readiness hard against her abdomen-

The only saving grace she held was that is was only ever for him. Can't be a hussy if is was but for one man . . . elf.

Eryndes swallowed as the last of the dead were carefully laid, and chanced another glance; he looked no worse for their ill-ending encounter.

She however had not slept a wink, time and time again recounting, wishing she'd acted differently. But to no avail. What happened couldn't be changed.

At the least she could condemn herself his willing mistress rather than his murderer.

So there she stood, alone, overwhelmed by grief. Eryndes watched, unflinching, as Joust laid at the top turned to ash.

Behind her the women raised their voices.

Eryndes didn't sing.

Cordoves' decision to accompany Sindar's elves out to track the retreating orc army with Faron had left her with the honour, and Eryndes' throat thickened as she put flame to the pyre. No single ceremony per family this time, no sacrifice of world hearth and goods. The women continued to sing in farewell as the flames engulfed the bodies.

Tears fell aplenty but quiet down her face.

When the fullest blaze was spent, Dunedain and Woodland remained silent and still, but their gaze moved to her. Like the time she was called to pronounce judgement and punish the wife-beating Coston, she stood apart, isolated.

Unlike that time, her duty came easier. Easier but no less alone.

Eryndes wiped her face then inclined her head to the dying embers and found her voice, clear and true to honour the fallen, "May they find their way back to the great hall of our kin and reside there in eternal peace. Until we meet them again in triumphant reunion, we shall remember them."

The faint magic, merely a ghosted whisper, remaining in the blood of Numenor called up a breath of wind. Picking up the ash, the wind cast off towards the east and the ancient homeland.

000

Labours to mend the fortress continued through the day. No one knew when the enemy would return. According to Urion, they were fools if they did not. The supplement of elves had increased their number, but the war was not over.

The word of the folk was a dark one. Many believed the siege to have been only a taste of what was to come. The first volley, a test.

Dark thoughts were unsound council and life had to continue in Carthal.

Carting around her satchel, Eryndes and Gueniel roamed the compound. Not in idleness, but searching for the still walking, still able, yet still in need of treatment. It was a poor healer who indulged a stubborn patient. Many of the rangers were stubborn patients.

Urion was one such, but both women found him and cut off his escape. A gulp of tonic with an accompanying shudder of distaste, a change of dressing to his lower leg and he was off. But not without a grumble.

Eryndes and Gueniel continued, the weather was fair. The freshly fallen snow the night before covered the churned up ground. The blue sky bore not a single cloud.

Eryndes grasped Gueniel's arm and halted their search for more wounded to tend.

Gueniel frowned then spotted the one who'd unknowingly captured Eryndes' attention. "Eryndes-"

"I must," Eryndes insisted. "After all the loss and grief, after everything, I will not suffer this." Taking a clean cloth from Gueniel and a splash of cold water, she hastily wiped her face and hands. Handing the cloth back, she patted her hair-

"Shall I come?"

Eryndes' hands paused pulling to straighten her dress and stared at her friend.

Gueniel didn't relent, "I can kick his shins."

Eryndes breathed in deep enough to reach her toes trying to calm her unease. Quicking her paces almost to a jog, Eryndes threaded her way through the obstacles, people, children, elves, broken machinery, fixed weaponry, horses, chooks-

Snagging her skirt, she held it away from her boots and quickened her pace in desperation.

He passed just as she made it to the path.

"I do not need a healer."

"Your wounds," she reminded around her panting.

"Have been checked."

"What about a tonic-"

"Not necessary; I am un-pained."

"While I am relieved to hear that," she nearly collided with a box on the path, "I beg you- a moment-"

"I do not need a healer and my presence is required."

He was intent on brushing her off, stamping off in his gazelle-like gait-

Well she wasn't going to let that go unchecked. Pulling her now dishevelled hair out of her gasping mouth, Eryndes ensnared his elbow, "Please."

Sindar's jaw squared but his pace slowed and stopped. "Very well. What do you need of me?"

That hurt. "To speak to me."

His brow rose. "Of what shall I speak?"

Her hurt took a backseat to irritation. "You know precisely what."

"You would speak of it here?" his head tilted, his eyes scrutinising her. "Out in the open? For all to witness?"

Her hands curled into fists, "I must since you've taken to evading me."

"I am preoccupied."

His haughty and feeble excuse made her fingernails cut into her palms. "Why? What did I do that you didn't begin? Why am I the only one to blame?"

He sighed through his nose. "I do not blame you."

Eryndes paused to make certain on her words. "Nothing happened that was so terribly wrong. A fit of . . . passion but with no lasting consequence-"

"Truly?"

Said with such vehemence Eryndes felt the need to step back. "I know matters of honour regarding . . . but it didn't go that far."

"You could not be more wrong. You do not understand-"

"Then explain it," she demanded hotly.

He turned to face her fully, his full stature it seemed to bare down on her under the weight of his eyes. "'That far' would have bestowed to me what you are so unwilling to give."

She opened her mouth at a loss. "If I won't marry you- Loss of virtue-"

"Not only virtue," he grounded out through his clenched jaw, "Had I not come to sense and stopped the 'fit of passion', this day would mark the first of our marriage."

The words died in her throat. She frowned, taking his words slowly. "You mean, had we-"

"We would be wed, yes. At least, in the laws of elves. In my law, my honour."

To lie with him was to marry him? She might've known if elves weren't so fastidiously secretive. Aragorn would know but never told her. If that wasn't astonishing enough, the look on his face . . . "Are you so disgusted?"

"Yes."

Her bottom lip started to tremble-

"If you will not marry me by your own violation . . . Last night showed I am no better than a man, incapable of restraint."

The muscles in her back and shoulders relaxed. "I hardly think-"

"You did not think!" he snapped, "I certainly did not. Next time, what then?"

Next time? She tried a gentle laugh, it fell hollow, "We cannot avoid each other in a place like this."

"Indeed," his fierce gaze lowered, "When the spring comes and the Dunedain seen safely to the south, I shall return to my homeland."

All the blood drained from her face. "You cannot mean-"

"Indefinitely."

"But you can't."

His regard gave her nothing. "I must-"

"No, please," she struggled to breath, her lungs no longer able to draw enough air. "I would never see you again."

"Yes. That is the goal."

Eryndes stared at him. Mortified. And betrayed. That he, the one she loved and claimed to love her, should ever say something so unfeeling, so callously-

She felt his finger under her chin, raising her welling eyes back to him. He'd softened, and when he spoke, his words came gently through his lips, "Understand, Eryndes. Love to an elf is not a passing fancy. It is boundless, felt deeper than any dwarven kingdom. It is to be cherished, guarded, and never dishonoured. There is no greater gift to give another."

She swallowed against the tears. "But then why leave?"

The softness faded and his touch fell away. "I will never allow it to be perverted by honourless union. Instead I will carry this love to a place where it will remain forever pure."

"No, please," she reached for him, needing to touch him, needing it more than breath, "please, I cannot bear it."

"I returned with hopes of reminding you of your love. Now it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. You never forgot. What else am I to do? I cannot change your decision. I must trust, trust you to know what is best for you."

When he stepped away, she acutely felt the loss, even of a pace, terror reigned for hundreds of miles. It was too much, too much pain, too much grief.

But what more could she say?

Sindar stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, "I do not relinquish hope one day you will accept me."

When he'd disappeared from sight, she hugged herself.

How dull was the world to turn without him?

000

Urion was waiting for them as the patrol pulled up their horses in the embarkation loop. Legolas dropped down to the ground from his borrowed horse. They left not long after Lobordir and the other dead were commemorated in Dunedain tradition.

Moments after Eryndes stopped him dead with those beseeching eyes. He hadn't exaggerated; the patrol was waiting for him. But how could he refuse those blue eyes?

He didn't regret his words to her. They were necessary, as was his promise to leave come spring. It broke his heart but was necessary.

Now the mid afternoon sunshine which barely offered warmth to Carthal shone over the blanket of snow.

"You found trouble?"

Legolas gave the reins to the stable boy whose name he did not know. "As with trouble, oftentimes seeks me out despite my wishes."

Urion patted the borrowed horse as he was led away, "As with us all. Losses?"

"Thankfully our combined forces were no match for the five scouts sent to watch us."

Baradon, solemn, trudged passed them, the others leading him with sympathy on their faces. Urion questioned him with a look.

"Five were ineffective against thirty rangers and elves, but not homes and fields. Baradon's home was utterly destroyed, left to smouldering ruin. Also gone are Geledir's and the surrounding farms to the south. Not a wheat ear or apple-tree spared."

Urion winced at this news and rubbed his face, "Baradon's grief . . . a home left to shelter kin long left orphaned. But given time, we may rebuild."

Legolas eyed the man, fighting against the need to voice his opinion.

"Sindar?"

He unbuckled his quiver and handed his weaponry to Tauriel, who swept by and left them to talk. "The north is no friend to the Dunedain. Thousands of years pass yet your people still battle to master it. Forsaken weather, orcs, plague, and every manner of evil beasts poison your lands."

"Yet we remain?" Urion chuckled. "The north is a beautiful if demanding mistress."

"Beautiful it may be," Legolas argued lightly, "but to build a community in the shadow of evil beauty?"

"Come," Urion led him forth towards the manor, "this is an old debate which must wait until the war is over."

Falling into step beside his friend, Legolas' heart sickened, "What if that never comes?"

Urion didn't answer for a long moment. Together they walked around the masses of people, both Dunedain and Woodland busy at their tasks. "You believe the war to end wars approaches and I must believe good will be victorious. To believe otherwise is to surrender without a fight."

Legolas smiled at him and inclined his head, "Indeed." They stopped beside a burning brasier where Urion warmed his hands. "We took two prisoners who unfortunately did not live past their interrogation."

"A pity," Urion snorted. "Learn anything?"

Legolas put his hand towards the heat of the brasier; it was pleasant warmth but wasn't necessary to hands unburdened by the freezing air. To always be at the whim of temperature, forever seeking warmth or cool would surely drive an elf mad in the constant effort. "Mordor's rising, Angmar its partner. The time of darkness has come. All shall perish or be enslaved."

"The same trollop as always."

He dropped his hand. "Have our scouts returned?"

Urion shook his head before Legolas finished, "If they don't return by morning, we'll have no choice but to go after them." His friend gazed intently at him, "Bury those thoughts, Sindar. You couldn't have gone with them. Even now I see you're still favouring your wounds. Days of hard riding and stealth demands a sound body."

"Want to test how sound I am?"

Urion laughed at his prideful challenge, "Maybe if I were eighty years younger."

"You were thinner then?" he baited dryly.

Urion barked a laugh, "And prettier too."

"You look not a day over ninety."

"And you, ten thousand?"

He snorted, "Not even my father is that old."

Urion continued his gnaffaw, then patted his shoulder, "I must oversee the continued repairs. Rest," he pressed when Legolas started to go with him, "You may be ever-young and quick healing, but I ask you to take ease in wait for the next battle. Your presence is not necessary and I'm not greedy enough to take all your attention." Urion nodded over his shoulder, "Especially with others waiting in line."

Legolas glanced over but by Urion's smile already knew to whom he referred.

"Fear not. Anything of note happens, I'll send a runner."

"Sindar!" Briel's arms ensnared him tightly, "Where have you been?"

The other children took his hands, handfuls of his clothing, and held tight amidst the demands for him to account for his whereabouts.

"Children. Children," Mydedis called from one of the many tables under the ancient cherry tree. "Leave poor Sindar alone."

Legolas smiled down at them affectionately, "Go on. Mydedis has spoken. Go on."

Tauriel came from the manor and stopped in surprise.

Legolas raised an eyebrow at her in amusement as she watched the children give up their hold on him. He sat at one of the benches next to where the women around prepared vegetables. Tauriel was enraptured.

Some of the children moved further away, keeping their faces and eyes dour.

She walked closer as Legolas picked up a potato and knife. "You are making them shy."

Tauriel didn't surrender her gaze, "I am not doing anything."

"You are staring."

Finally she looked at him in wonder, "There are so many of them."

"There are offspring in Lasgalen."

"One or two born every decade . . ."

"Escaroth counts many, a few dozen every year, and Laketown before."

Tauriel beamed, her generous mouth widening in wonder, "Ah, Sindar. Do they not sing to your heart? Make you yearn for your own?"

Legolas' knife fell silent-

His own?

"What are you doing?"

Legolas took a moment to recognise her question and followed her gaze down to his hands. "What does it look like I am doing?" Finishing, he took another potato.

"Since when do you prepare food?" Before he could answer, she gushed, "Does your father know?"

Legolas levelled a patient gaze at her. "Indeed. I sent out a rider to race him the tidings."

Tauriel broke into laughter. "What have they done to you?"

"The same will be done to you if you were to watch them labour to make your food everyday." He nodded to the tables of vegetables, "Perhaps you may wish to start?"

Her laughter stopped, her mouth open, staring at him. "I have a better idea." Rising to her feet she marched over to where the children were. Her big smile and easy manner quickly won over the children and in moments she had them circling around her, smiling and dancing.

Had he cared to listen, he might've had a warning of their plans. But with the women at the next bench over, his attention was divided.

Eryndes counted amongst them, sitting in the middle, her small but agile hands peeling potatoes at twice his speed.

His decision pained her. He regretted that. But not as much as he was ashamed. All his years he'd scoffed at man's poor resistance to lust.

When he was no better? Not even his inexperience tempered his hunger.

Tauriel's shadow crossed over his face. She led a procession of children, a wicked intention behind her eyes.

"You make friends easy," He remarked, finishing the second potato.

From her tunic, she produced a tin whistle.

Legolas' face hardened and he glared in silent warning.

"My lord, are the children's long faces not reason enough?"

"No." Had he not already suffered enough humiliation?

"Oh, please, Sindar! Please!" Briel begged, taking his hand and soon her pleas were taken up by all the children. "Please, Sindar! Please!"

Tauriel held out the whistle, a smug smile over her features. "Just this once? For them?"

The children's pleading faces-

With a shake of his head, Legolas took the whistle. "Once, Tauriel, and never again."

She grinned, taking as many of the children back away from him and into the centre of the clearing. "This is not home, Sindar; you are not performing to a kingdom, or for your father's critique. This is giving children music to dance."

He waited a moment longer for Tauriel to get the children into position, then settling his breathing, he placed the whistle to his lips.

The music lifted each of their faces into smiles and they danced. The dance Tauriel had shown them left some with the steps wrong, but it didn't matter. They laughed harder for it.

Most of the women ceased their labours and were watching the children, delighted. Some of them bounced their feet in time with Legolas' up tempo.

A couple of the rangers pulled a few of the women to their feet and they joined the dancing children. Then more did. Even some of his elven soldiers took up each other or a Dunedain partner.

The song's ending came. With a chorus of unhappy, Legolas took a breath and put whistle to lips again, this time playing a song he'd heard many times, a Dunedain song. This time the children took Tauriel and a couple of the other elves who'd joined the dancing, and became the instructors.

When the song ended, Legolas gave the whistle to a hobbling Amben, who he knew played any instrument as well as anyone. With the support of Gueniel on Amben's otherside, Legolas helped Amben to sit.

Legolas studied Gueniel, the gruff woman's thin face for once gentle and attentive. It was not for him, that much was certain. Legolas was not amongst her favourite people.

He caught Amben's eye.

The painfully shy ranger and master of crops cheeks coloured with a secret smile in his eyes. Months before, Eryndes had unwittingly told him of Gueniel's affinity for Amben.

Had the recent events jostled the two of them into action?

When his curious glance at Gueniel was met with narrowed eyes of warning, he inclined his head and withdrew.

It was happy news for them.

If only he were as lucky.

Walking back towards the tables, behind him Amben placed the whistle to mouth and filled the air with a sweet tune.

When Legolas sat down at the table with the two dozen women, between Mereniel and Mydedis , with Eryndes across the opposite side of the table and took up another potato, he felt their stares.

"Yes?"

"Sindar," Mydedis spoke up with reproach, "would you not enjoy playing the whistle more than skinning potatoes?"

"I would not."

"You play well."

Legolas' stiffened, Eryndes' gently spoken compliment warming his neck and threatening his face. He cleared his throat quietly, "Well for a '(caged bird enslaved to sing for his supper)'."

"Pardon?" she asked.

Legolas took another potato before admitting without meeting her eyes, "My father's way of saying I play without heart."

"How cruel!" Eryndes exclaimed. The other women nodded in agreement with her.

"Cruelty was not his purpose. My father prefers absolute honesty with me and will not pander just because I am his son."

"No disrespect to your father but I thought you played well."

Braving the threat of spreading warmth, he lifted his gaze. Her face was as genuine as her voice, as generous as her praise. "Elves do not do well, Eryndes," he explained, "Elves excel or they do not. Neither Tauriel nor I sing. She lacks even rudimentary music. We are first and foremost warriors."

He concluded, "We excel at killing."

The perplexion evaporated, replaced by argument, "There is more to a warrior than killing."

"So you have said, many times."

"If you still say such rotten nonsense then you've obviously forgotten-"

"I never forget."

Her vivid eyes bore into his, ready to jump to the challenge.

Mydedis leant in and pointed towards Tauriel, "But why not dance? You're such a beautiful dancer. I would call that excelling."

"Not today, Mydedis," he broke the stalemate with Eryndes to gently soothe Mydedis, "Seeing the children at gay play is treat enough for present." Indeed Legolas was glad of Tauriel. The stifling grief hanging over Carthal had bled to the children and he rejoiced seeing them smiling and laughing once more.

But did little to ease the heaviness upon his heart. He would miss those fierce eyes as he'd miss her fierce opinions.

"Who knew you played?" Mydedis wasn't finished, "Never, not once did we know."

"My joy of music is in listening to others," he told her plainly, "I do not enjoy playing."

"You won't play, you won't dance-"

"Mydedis, leave him be," Eryndes gathered the basket of peeled potatoes but she paused and looked at him. "Faggots tonight."

"I see," his stomach cringed. "I appreciate the warning."

Eryndes' bearing was sympathetic, "We must use the last of the fresh meat before-"

"It is fine," he said, his lips fighting the sudden rise in mirth, "Thanks for your ministrations Dunedain cuisine no longer trembles my stomach in fear." Cringed, but didn't tremble.

Eryndes bit her lip but her eyes sparked.

"Surely we can find something more to your liking?"

"That is not necessary," he told Mydedis, then back to Eryndes, "However may I beg-"

"Drowning them in gravy? Of course."

The unbidden smile tugged stubbornly at the corners of his mouth as she took the potatoes inside.

"(My lord)," a tentative voice called. "(Shall I do that for you, my lord? If the Dunedain desire assistance surely we may help and spare you)."

"What do you fear, elf, that your lord may break a nail?" Mereniel chortled. Legolas' own chuckled joined theirs.

The elf glared at Mereniel, "It is unseemly, for the son-," the elf caught himself looking to Legolas, "(My lord, the king would not approve)."

Legolas looked down at his work, the current potato only just started, then at the women waiting for his answer. "(If you find it unsettling seeing me prepare food, trooper, then gather all Woodland not currently occupied, wash their hands and take up a knife. Thereby your aid may reduce the length of my labours)."

The elf gaped-

Legolas raised a brow, "(With haste)."

"(Yes, my lord)," the elf bowed smartly and hurried off.

"Well, you certainly got him moving."

"It helps to have powerful kin," a new voice joined in.

Legolas watched Cordoves and a smirking Faron approach from the road. They wore the telltale signs of days out in the elements scouting the enemy; thick fur coats splashed with mud, faces red from the cold.

"Where are the rest of my scouts?"

Faron rolled his eyes, "Left them for dead along the road."

Cordoves shot Faron daggers from her eyes, "Seeing to their horses-"

"They do not trust their horses to our mortal stable hands."

"Yet by our hands Aglarebon heals well."

Legolas held up a hand to stop their conversation for which he had no part. "I assume you have news?"

"You're dismissed," Faron shooed at Cordoves.

Cordoves inclined her head to Legolas, before dropping her shoulder hard into Faron to make her way to the manor.

Faron pretended to skewer her with an imaginary blade then came to stand beside their table. "Not as hoped," he grumbled tiredly. "There's a storm brewing. Bad. The winds will be destructive enough. Your elves better abandon their tents unless you wish them sleep in a blizzard. We'll be inside for a few days."

"How long do we have?" Mydedis asked, boosting her round belly up and on to her feet.

"Couple hours. No more than four."

Legolas abandoned his knife, "Gone for a day yet you return with nothing more than a weather report?"

"Funny." Faron smirked down at him. "I found where they retreated, but it doesn't help us any."

Getting up, Legolas bid the women farewell. "I'll leave my elves to your custody," He winked at Mydedis, "Please guard them and keep Sali's wandering hands to herself."

"The river?" Legolas asked when they'd moved far enough away to not be overheard.

"Aye," Faron confirmed, pulling off his patchy and filthy fur overcoat. "They employed crafts of some means. Sped down stream. We chanced a crossing but no evidence of a landing for five miles."

"They have slunk back from where they came once more."

"Might it be their plan to engage us? Keep us here and not looking south?"

Legolas eyed him, "Kept busy here and therefore unable to aid the south?"

Faron shrugged, "Couple days out with only Cordoves and your elves to talk too, I get stuck in me head and thinking."

Nodding, Legolas had to concede, "An interesting notion. But to keep us away from what? Apart from a few skirmishes, I have not heard of any armies massing. The only army on the move is Angmar's."

"Was just an idea, Dandelion."

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "Why do you call me that?"

Faron grinned, snaking in closer, their almost identical height making them eye to eye, "You want me to call you by your real name, Le-"

"(Want to lose your tongue)?" Legolas snarled.

Still grinning, Faron's gaze dropped to his mouth, "I'd love to see you try."

"My lord?"

The alarmed call from one of Legolas' soldiers reminded him there were many others around them; the children amongst them. "(Stand easy)," he ordered. Taking a step back, Legolas growled quietly, "Get out of my face, Faron. You stink. Might I suggest the bathhouse?" Without waiting for a reply, Legolas moved away, ushering his elves away too.

Just when he thought he and Faron were learning how not to get on each other's nerves . . . It did serve as a reminder though; saviour of his life or not, Faron was still not to be trusted.

Faron still had an agenda. It was to the man's credit that Legolas was yet to discover it.

000

Slate cradled in one arm, each sack was counted and marked off with her chalk. It wasn't a hard task, simply tedious. With Foruyndes again taken with her winter sickness Eryndes took up the reins of safeguarding Carthal's stores. An extra hundred and fifty bellies needing filling meant careful monitoring. Even as far as locking the door and setting two dogs to guard.

Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over her shoulder.

Frowning, she took a second look. "What are you doing here? Should you not be out in the freezing cold, bludgeoning rangers and elves alike to prove your prowess?" she snipped with a shake of her head, "If even one of them dares come to me for stitching or a poultice . . ."

"Not interested," Faron said around a mouthful of food from where he stood at the storeroom's entrance. "The one I want is wounded."

The brighter light coming from the kitchen behind him showed her nothing but his outline. She went back to her task. The wheat and barley sacks were counted. Now was time for the corn. "What drives your hatred for him?" For a long time she'd wanted to ask but lacked the nerve. Faron and her had very few dealings with each other. They were both heads of Carthal. He was responsible for all the game they'd put on the table. There was no camaraderie, and at times Eryndes felt unnerved by the man.

Nowadays, Eryndes didn't indulge in such silly misgivings. Nowadays, she simply asked. As a mistress of Carthal should.

He snickered loudly. "What drives your love for him?"

She tensed and tried to keep her voice even. "What do you mean?"

"Spare me, Eryndes," Faron advised. "Nothing passes me." He smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know Sindar's real name?"

Her eyes widened. "He told you?"

No response.

"Of course he didn't."

"Want me to tell you?"

"He cannot of told you therefore is not for you to tell."

Faron laughed, "As you wish."

Eryndes watched as he threaded his way through the crates and sacks to settle against the shelving beside her. He was dressed cleanly. His hair was wet and munched down on a cold pork pie. "Does this have to do with the orcs?" she asked, "Urion spoke you found nothing of great significance in your hunt?"

"Indeed not. If I had, you would've known by now." He finished the rest of his pie, "I'd tell you to lose the troubled look. However what I've to say will trouble you."

Tossing the slate and chalk to the bench, she waved him forth, "Then out with it."

He showed his crooked teeth. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"You are meddlesome, Master Hunter. Your pleasure is to watch the drama you cause unfold, like a boy pouring water down an ant hill."

Faron chortled, "Oh, there's drama aplenty. Not by my making though. No, that's all yours. Yours and Sindar's."

She should've known. "The rubbish about me chasing Sindar is nothing but empty speculation-"

"It seems Romon and Nestdol also wish to play their part."

Eryndes stopped. Those two names turned clear water murky. "How do you mean?"

Faron shrugged nonchalantly. "Seems they've kept to their schemes, despite your brother's threats. None of it bodes well for you."

She crossed her arms, "What are these schemes?"

"I've been back less than two hours yet I hear rumours sproutin' out everywhere from every mouth like wildfire; rumours you've spent as much time in Sindar's bed as your own."

Her jaw dropped-

"Stories vary, but none paint you any better than an elf-hungry whore." His tall, lean body shrugged against the shelving, "You're a smart woman, you can guess their purpose."

"And people are buying it? I don't believe it. Faron," she demanded. "Why is it 'you' telling me this? What's in it for you?"

Faron paused, his cavalier demeanor dropping, his face hardening. "The real question is, what will you do? Is it your name alone being dragged through a pigpen after a rainstorm?"

Eryndes glanced around at the stored food. With a deep gush of breath, she tore off her apron and threw it on the nearest table.

"Lock the door behind you," she ordered, marching through the kitchen filled full of women and older children tending to the beginnings of supper, and out the door into Carthal manor proper.