Notes, Warnings etc
HIGH LEVEL OF ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER
Some of the details in this chapter relate to Dídauar's past which I haven't gone into a lot of explanation. If you have any question feel free to ask and I will do my best to answer them.
Chapter Sixteen - Confessions And A Plea
Dídauar sat on top of one of the stables, fingering a trinket that was usually woven through her hair – seven fine chains of Mithril and gold links, each ending in a star and gathered together by a eagle – and was lost to her memories, both of the Stronghold and of Gondor.
A gentle smile graced her features as the image of a fox-copper haired, sea-blue eyed toddler flitted across her mind, followed quickly by a child with sandy-gold hair and eyes of the purest jade. The family of Húrin had been her saving grace in Gondor. Being cooped up within the City walls and restricted by the harsh rules of the military, Dídauar had found escape by watching the brothers grow up. Denethor had not been keen on allowing another waif from Rohan into the tight circle that was his family, following Aragorn's unexpected departure and the subsequent betrayal that he had felt. However, within a year Dídauar had been accepted into the machine that was the Húrin household and try as Ecthelion might, he could not pry the second child of Arathorn from his son's side. It had been Faramir that had discovered the charm, Dídauar simply slipping it into her hair rather than hiding it among the Elven braids she habitually wore. After a little persuasion, she had told the story of how she possessed such a treasure, especially when she had lived the life of a warrior of the wilds for most of her life.
It had been Halbarad who had gifted her what he called a trinket, though to Dídauar it was anything but a trivial possession. Where he had got the money still remained a mystery but Halbarad had commissioned the charm from the Elven Smiths of Imladris for her twenty-sixth Birth Day. Knowing how little Dídauar cared for symbols or tokens that would attach her specifically to a particular race or nation, Halbarad had insisted on a fairly generic looking star insignia – though if each was examined closely enough, an etching of the Star of the Dúnedain could be found on the metal – as well as an eagle. Dídauar bit her lip as her thoughts returned once more to her cousin.
The elder man was the one link she had left to the past when she had been called carefree and innocent. From as early as she could remember, he had always been there when she needed him, though often it was only in dreams that they could meet, the leadership of their people being so arduous a task that he was limited to visiting Imladris every three years. Once the twins had returned to their people and taken over the role of leadership, Halbarad continued to stand in the shadows gently guiding as the two regained their feet in a world that was alien to them and quite prepared to jump in and defend either youngster. The charm which she was playing with had been gifted mere weeks before she had departed from underneath his wing, and remained unseen and unheard from for over thirty years. She had worn it religiously, whether woven through her hair or attached to a leather throng and tied about her neck, since the day she had been given it and when in Gondor, feeling lost, abandoned and betrayed by those closest to her, she had come to see it as a beacon of hope that maybe somebody was waiting for her to return.
And now her pillar of strength was in danger, along with youngest son of Gondor. While Dídauar had internally acknowledged who her vision had been about, to say it out loud would make it too real and would challenge the Fates into making it reality. If she kept the knowledge of Halbarad's predicted fall a secret then she had a greater chance of preventing it. Faramir unfortunately was out of her reach but she had learned not to concern herself with the things that she could not alter. Besides she had the feeling that Pippin would latch on to Faramir in much the same way he had Boromir.
"You'll need this," said Elrohir as he appeared beside her. Dídauar jumped in surprise when her foster-brother spoke. Elrohir smiled gently.
"You are lost in the past again," he said, settling down and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. "And I am at a loss to say whether your memories were pleasant or not."
"For the most part they are pleasant," replied Dídauar, pulling the blanket about her and tilting her head to Elrohir.
"So it is the present that has you troubled," said Elrohir reaching out and brushing her cheek. Dídauar nodded and turned her face away.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to talk about. The last time I did that, Fate took me at my word," replied Dídauar, still not looking at Elrohir.
"And you will self-destruct if you don't say something," said Elrohir. Dídauar shook her head.
"I can't take the risk," she said. "Too many have been lost already."
"Secrets do not keep anyone safe," cautioned Elrohir. "And while you may wish to protect another by remaining quiet, I will not have you run yourself ragged under such a burden."
"How do I tell someone that I see them fall?" asked Dídauar. "How do I persuade one who has been my champion from the moment I was born that he must allow me to ride to battle alone?"
A few names quickly ran through Elrohir's mind as to who had watched Dídauar for so long, including himself, Elladan, Halbarad, Aragorn and a Ranger who went by the name Tarondor, though the last was quickly dismissed, the man being far from supportive of the twins and only numbering among the grey company because he was at the Stronghold when they set out. Aragorn was also dismissed because while he was protective of his sister, Aragorn had not championed her in any way until they had arrived in Rohan during their youth. Even then he had given such a privilege to a native soldier. Which left the Elven twins and Halbarad. Both Sons of Elrond were again partial to protecting Imladris' young fosterlings, Elladan tending to sway in Aragorn's direction if a choice had to be made, such an action being perfectly natural for a Guardian, but Dídauar response did not seem to support the theory that either of them were in danger. Besides, she spoke of one not two and it was a well known fact that the Sons of Elrond could not be parted, in life or death. Which left only Halbarad, and Elrohir felt his heart clench painfully at the realisation.
"So you know," said Dídauar, risking a glance back at Elrohir. The inexplicable connection between the younger of each Imladrian twinnings made itself known once more, allowing a gentle trickle of emotions to flow between them. Elrohir felt Dídauar's pain while Dídauar felt Elrohir's sympathy and regret.
"This is not something you should carry yourself," persuaded Elrohir. "Tell Halbarad and maybe he will stay."
"Not if I ride forth and I cannot stay here while everyone I love is put at risk," said Dídauar, fisting the blanket and pulling it closer as she hugged her knees. "I am not a fire side Captain."
"But you will never know unless you speak," said Elrohir.
Later that night, Dídauar could not sleep. Aragorn had curled up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist as was the norm when the two were gifted with the opportunity of being in the same place at the same time, and quickly been ensnared by the dreamscape of Lórien. Dídauar however tossed and turned as she too was tempted by Lórien but not with the promise of peace that her brother received. Eventually she kicked off the blankets that cocooned the pair and crept out of Aragorn's embrace, sneaking across the sleeping quarters with no more noise than a mouse. She found Halbarad sprawled on his back, one hand resting across his chest while the other had settled just above his thigh. His sons were curled beside him, Tarcil flat on his back with Arahael draped across him and wrapped securely within his elder brother's arms. Settling down beside Halbarad, Dídauar studied his sleeping form, memorising the serene look on his face.
"Would that I could make you stay," she murmured tracing a finger across Halbarad's creased forehead, her touch as light as a butterfly's and her words little louder than a gentle breeze that broke the night air.
"Would that you had not promised."
Dídauar continued to study her cousin, losing track of time as she did so. Eventually Halbarad stirred, whether to stretch out his muscles before returning back to Lórien's embrace or because he had sensed Dídauar watching him was impossible to tell.
"You should be asleep," he said, rubbing his eyes so that he could focus properly on Dídauar.
"I can't," replied Dídauar.
"You are not trying very hard sitting watching me," said Halbarad, sitting up and crossing his legs, swung round to face Dídauar. "Why are you watching me?"
"I need a reason to watch over my kin as they sleep?" asked Dídauar canting her head and deliberately avoiding the question.
"When your brother lies but ten feet away but has none of your attention, yes you need an excuse," replied Halbarad. "What's wrong?"
"I want you to stay," said Dídauar. "Do not follow us into battle. Return to our people in the north." Halbarad's eyes widened.
"Why?" he demanded.
"I want you to remain safe," said Dídauar, not looking at Halbarad.
"So you would have me turn tail and run!" exclaimed Halbarad. "Abandoning my sons and you two?"
"Estel and I will keep an eye on the boys. We can watch our own backs," retorted Dídauar.
"What are you hiding?" demanded Halbarad, fighting to keep his voice down as he agitation and anger rose steadily.
"Do not ask me that," begged Dídauar. "I will not tempt Fate to take me at my word again!"
"What are you hiding?" repeated Halbarad, gripping Dídauar's upper arms forcefully so that she had no option but to remain seated before him. Dídauar shook her head, biting her lip as her gaze became clouded.
"Please," she begged. "Do not make me answer. Too many have been taken already."
"Who do you See fall?" hissed Halbarad. Dídauar choked, a tear escaping her eye as she met Halbarad's gaze.
"You," she whispered. Halbarad's jaw dropped in shock and his grip on Dídauar's arms relaxed sufficiently to allow her to pull free, fleeing into the dark and becoming her namesake of the north. Halbarad didn't think twice about getting up to follow her.
"The only way I will return to the north before the final battle is fought is if you are at my side," said the Dúnedain Commander as he caught up with Dídauar.
"Then you will not return at all," snapped Dídauar angrily as she turned on her heel to face Halbarad. "Would you have your sons watch you fall then force them to carry your body back to the north!"
"Instead you ask me to wait for you!" retorted Halbarad equally angered. "I did that once, I am not doing it again."
"I can't risk you Halbarad. You are all I have left of the past," begged Dídauar. Halbarad canted his head.
"You usually try to forget the past," he said folding his arms. "I would have thought this war was the perfect opportunity to relieve yourself of the few ties that still remain." Dídauar lunged at Halbarad, slapping him hard across the face before ramming him hard against the nearest solid support, the front of his shirt gripped in her hands to hold him in place.
"You would have me wish you dead!" she exploded. "If I did, do you really think I would wait until the climax of this war? Would I beg you to return to our people? Even tell you that I Saw you fall?"
"Perfect plan," shrugged Halbarad. He knew he was deliberately riling her up but Dídauar had to break. Even if it meant him dragging her kicking and screaming from her shell, pushing every one of the wrong buttons and pulling every emotional cord possible, Halbarad was going to have her deal with her grief before they entered yet another battle. If she continued to bury her emotions, they would reappear at the most inappropriate moment and she would go down. Dídauar would never see such a consequence as anything but a necessary sacrifice of war but Halbarad knew how many lives would shatter if she fell.
"I do not have to kill people to remove them from my life," hissed Dídauar. "And if I wanted you dead, I would not have waited until we rode to war."
"True, you never can trust an enemy," mused Halbarad. "You would be better doing to yourself." Dídauar jerked him so that his head collided with the post against which he was pressed.
"You are the one constant in the whirlwind that is my life," she said as Halbarad blinked in the attempt to clear the stars from his vision. "The one remaining link to a past where I carried a mark of innocence. Who still seeks to find that mark, regardless of how faint it has become. Who waits with open arms and a welcome smile no matter how long we've been parted."
"May be it was you who just got hit on the head because I am not Lord Elrond, nor am I Elrohir," said Halbarad.
"They changed," replied Dídauar. "After I was taken they changed. When they told me I could See, they changed. When I stopped being Kalya of Imladris and became Dídauar of the Dúnedain they changed again. You? You were always the same. The same loving, encouraging, protective Halbarad you were from the moment I was born and you will be as long as you live. That is why I need you to return to the north, or at least stay here in Rohan. I cannot remember childhood innocence without first fighting through the battles, the bloodshed and pain. You help guide me through that and show me what it is I am fighting for, what can be achieved if only we hold on to hope and trust in the Valar."
"I can't," whispered Halbarad, raising his hand to brush away the tears that formed in Dídauar's eyes. "It is because I still see that innocence that I cannot let you ride out alone. I know you will have thirty other people following you and each one would be more than willing to lay down their life if it meant your survival but I won't be able to see you. I pray that no harm befalls you when you reach Gondor, but if it does, I need to be at your side as you recover. I need to hold your hand and reassure myself that you haven't followed your father. Too many times have I come close to having that fear realised that the word of another no longer suffices."
"And I can't lose another!" cried Dídauar, the pain evident in her voice. "Please Halbarad. This is not my last battle, I will return. If you follow me, you have already given your last goodbye."
"So be it," murmured Halbarad, cupping Dídauar's cheek. "I am a warrior, little one and was so long before you were born. Dying on the battlefield seems appropriate considering how I have lived my life."
Halbarad's acceptance of his fate, fear completely absent from the acknowledgement, was too much for Dídauar and she released a choked sob. She sought to flea again but Halbarad held her still, wrapping his arms tightly around her, one hand going up to cradle Dídauar's head as she buried it into Halbarad's shoulder, using the muscle and fabric to muffle her cries while she clung desperately to the elder man, finally succumbing to the tidal wave of emotions that had been threatening to drown her since first she saw Théodred's mound.