Idrial's Quest Chapter 9: An Interlude at Helm's Deep, a lord of the rings fanfic

Idrial's Quest

By Lady Annalease

Okay, first, I changed this a little bit from the original I posted weeks ago. Second, I apologise completely for Berethor's really, REALLY, LOOOOONG speech later, but it was kinda needed. So, this interlude is too long, somewhat OOC and probably takes far too much poetic licence, but hey…it's my story and it's just a story.

A/N: Thanks to IHeartSam and Stormshark, audreypod94 and, especially, KakurineTalyn1511 for their reviews! And to DarthRevanShepard for adding my story to her new C2, called Tales of the Third Age - check it out if you're into it!

A/N 2: I am taking a little poetic licence about what happened between Helm's Deep and Isenguard, as the game is more than somewhat vague about it.

An Interlude at Helm's Deep:

Despite the exhaustion of the warriors, the celebrations continued long into the night. For my own part, I was content to simply sit out of the way and observe. I had thought I had a good understanding of Men, travelling with Elegost and Berethor for so many weeks, but now I realised that they truly were strange creatures. I became so absorbed in my study of the Men and their rituals; I was startled by Orophin suddenly appearing next to me. He laughed and smiled, but then his expression quickly sobered.

"Your brother managed to impart his superior skills in stealth to me well, did he not?" the Elf said, his expression sombre. I nodded slowly.

"He always won at hiding and bluffing games," I replied wistfully.

"…I…I was given his command, you know," Phin continued, "I try to do his position honour." I smiled sadly.

"You are well suited, mellon; I do not doubt your ability to do the task, nor your competence. Being under Aron's command indefinitely would not have suited you," I replied.

"As it does Rúmil under Haldir?" he commented, a somewhat disappointed expression gracing his features.

"Rue would not make a good commander," I said, "though fair and well enough he is a talented warrior, he is too caught by his emotions and desires. I was foolish ever to involve myself with him, now that I look back on it, I see that, but he was so very charming and I was lonely."

"And somewhat drunk that first time," Phin added with a smile. I nodded resignedly.

"Yes," I agreed, not terribly proud of that particular incident, even though it was over a millennium distant, "that too." The ellon sighed.

"As fascinating as gossiping about my brother's relationship to you is, I must speak with you about your brother. I have no wish to pour salt on an open wound, but Aron and I had a long conversation when he returned to Lothlórien, and there were some things he wished me to convey to you. We are leaving with the light of the dawn…no matter how over-indulged our warriors are, so this has to be done now. I swore to Aron that I would do it upon our next meeting, for he knew we were to travel to Helm's Deep and the chances were that we should see you here." He glanced around the room, seemingly only now noticing the loud and bawdy revellers and their antics. "Perhaps…perhaps this would be best done somewhere else; would you care to accompany me on a tour of the ramparts?" I had thought that I was done grieving for my family, but I know now that that was short-sighted of me. I will always pine for them, in some way, and right then the wound was still raw and open, however much I might have wished it closed over. I accompanied Phin to the walls with a sinking feeling of dread.

Orophin was silent until we were out of ear-shot from the great hall. He leaned back against one of the crenulations in the wall. He took a deep breath.

"Aronel wished me to act, as I always have tried to do, as an elder brother and advisor to you, now that he is gone. I tried to tell him that you were no longer a child, and had not been for some time, but he would not listen. He…he wanted me to advise you this, in the very, very least - return to Lórien with us, then follow him as soon as you are able." Phin heaved another sigh. "Aron was my dearest friend, my sworn brother; he had even been more in earlier times, if you follow well my meaning; but for all his prowess in stealth and leadership, he could be very obtuse on occasion. I am not even sure he noted your attachment to Berethor, let alone questioned its nature." He paused again. "I am not your brother and, despite his wishes, I will not try to talk you into any direction, Rial, and I certainly will not force you. I do not know if his wishes would have changed if he had known you were involved with Berethor; possibly not. I do know, however, that above everything, he would want to you be happy. As do I. That is all I am going to say on this matter. However, should you wish to talk more, I am happy to listen and I would…appreciate it if you kept me informed as to your choices, if only as a friend, rather than an elder brother. Also, when…all this is over, I plan to go into the West too, barring any unforseen circumstances, of course. Upon that occasion, if there is anything you wish me to say or anything you wish me to give him…" Orophin trailed off. "He left everything to you, except a few items that he bequeathed, which have already been handed out, and the few others he and his family took with them. His home is now yours, as is all that remains in it, also is a substantial portion of funds. I assume you know most of what was left behind; Aron's home was not closed to you. All of it will be held, as is, until your return when you decide what you wish done. However, unless you are returning with us tomorrow, I would be happy to make any arrangements you so wish. Also, he wished me to give you these." Orophin removed a purse from its place on his belt, a smaller bag from a concealed pocket on the inside of his tunic, and a wrapped bundle from his quiver. The purse contained a large amount of gold pieces, though it was not substantial in terms of the amount Aron had left me. The package contained Aron's bow, unstrung, but as near-perfect as I remembered it, and his daggers. It almost brought me to tears. I kissed each dagger, then replaced the ones I already had on me in my pack and armed myself with my brother's instead. Now he would fight with me. "I…I want you to have the bow, Orophin. I am aware yours was lost in this battle and I have little talent for archery myself. It was made to be used, not admired from a mounting on my wall." The ellon was speechless.

"I…I…" it took him a few moments to find his voice, "I am not worthy…." I shook my head.

"Of course you are, mellon. Aron would approve too, I think, and, as you said, it is mine to do with as I wish." Orophin reluctantly reached out and took the weapon.

"Hannon le," he spoke, bowing, "I shall treasure it and treat it with honour." He held it close to his chest a moment, before placing it over his shoulders. The last thing I had to examine was the small bag that Orophin had handed me. I had no notion of what could be in it.

"Do you know what is in this?" I asked. The ellon shook his head. I took a deep breath and upended the bag onto my palm. The both of us gasped.

"Oh," I breathed tearfully, "he knew…" and dissolved into tears.

It took me some time to compose myself enough to return to the celebrations. Orophin offered to stay with me, but I told him he ought to get some rest before he had to depart, and after I assured him I would be well, numerous times, he finally left me alone. I could feel the weight of that small bag in the pocket against my heart but, before I could dwell on the message Aron had meant to give me with it, Legolas found me and swept me into his arms once more.

"We did it, Rial," he whispered hotly in my ear, "we won!" I could scent the alcohol on his breath, though he was no where near drunk. His soft lips trailed lightly across my cheek. There was little doubt of what he wanted from me, especially when his lips grazed the tip of my ear. I trembled in his arms. It was so very, very tempting to just let him make me forget. A chance glance over his shoulder made my eyes meet Berethor's; to this day I maintain that that had to be some sort of divine interference. The Man's face was like a thunderhead. I must have stiffened, or gasped, for Legolas loosened his arms and laughed softly in my ear. "You would rather be with him, yes?" he asked. I tried to turn back to explain to him, but his arms tightened once more and he kept me where I was. "No, Rial, keep looking at him for a moment. He stands over there alone, with naught but an untouched tankard of ale for company, and glares daggers at me. He is wickedly jealous. He cannot decide whether or not to come over here and remove me physically from your presence - remove the man who dares to touch his mate. He is in love with you, Rial. No doubt. Go to him. Make it simple." He released his grip. My eyes had not left their lock with Berethor's and the packet over my heart seemed all the heavier.

"Orophin convinced you to do this, did he not?" I whispered to the sweet Prince. He laughed harshly.

"There was very little convincing needed," he replied. "I admit I find myself over-jealous. I somewhat hoped you would cave and join me instead, but that is too selfish to dwell on. Go; before I try to convince you to stay with me." He pressed his lips against my forehead in a quick kiss and then gave me a gentle shove toward the other side of the room. I moved intently through the crowd toward the copper-haired vision. His eyes had come back to lock with mine. Fire blazed in both our gazes, and we both panted. I saw no one else, I doubt he did either. That was, until Morwen came to him and touched his arm, drawing his attention and smiling prettily at him, posing almost outrageously. Now I truly knew what Legolas had meant. I was beyond jealous of the young woman. How dare she touch my mate! My mate! I might have growled then, but I am eternally glad I did not, for otherwise I would not have heard a man, somewhat away from me, sigh heavily. For some reason, it attracted my attention. It was Eaoden.

"You are in love with her," I commented to the Man, coming up next to him. He did not seem over-surprised to find me there and speaking to him.

"Perhaps," he replied, "it is certainly more than attraction, on my part." He glanced sharply down at me.

"What of your relationship with Berethor? I might not have been your comrade for very long, but even I can read the jealousy on your face…the loathing, almost." I could not deny it.

"I loathe what they are doing, not her, herself…and not him," I replied. He nodded.

"I know. I hold naught against you; except, perhaps, that you lack the gall to break them up physically but, then, so do I …." I made a motion of agreement; there was not much I could say to that. Both of us jumped when Morwen delivered a resounding slap to Berethor's cheek. She turned to storm off.

"Morwen!" Berethor called pleadingly. She spun back to him, her face a mask of fury.

"Was I a game to you?" she hissed dangerously, "just a tumble? Or were you trying to make your Elven whore jealous?" She gestured rudely toward me, before stalking off toward our sleeping area. Eaoden and I looked between the two in shock, speechless. I cared little enough about her insult, I just could not believe what had happened.

"Go after her," I finally urged the Rohirric warrior, finding my voice and giving him a light shove in the right direction. He ran off.

I turned back to Berethor; he had set his now-empty goblet of spilt ale down and was rubbing his face with his palms, as if trying to erase something foul.

"I did not mean for it to go as that," he murmured, almost to himself. I closed the distance between us in a few quick strides.

"And I thought you two were getting along so well," I hissed acidly. I had not meant to attack him, verbally or otherwise, but the spiteful words spilt from my lips before I could halt them. I should have been quite old enough to suppress such malice, but he had hurt me and I was lashing out like any wounded animal. He sighed heavily and met my eyes, a pained expression decorating his features. I suddenly realised the room had fallen somewhat silent and that we had gathered quite an audience. I glared at them. "Do you not have something better to be doing?" I snapped. I grabbed Berethor's arm, "come on, we need to talk," I spoke and led him outside to where Orophin and I had spoken earlier. Torches on the walls created pools of light in the inky blackness and sentries patrolled the walls, though none dared venture near us.

"I never meant to hurt you, Idrial," he finally broke the silence and spoke softly. "And I never meant to wound Morwen, I did not think she would react so…." I could not believe it!

"How can you say that? I am not so sure you did not deserve her strike!" I cried. "Valar know there is no love lost between me and the girl, but what you did was cold. And now you are hiding! Take some responsibility, adan! We women do not like to be treated as play-things, and we do not like to be humiliated! I do not know what you said to Morwen, but it must have been good for her to create such a scene, especially in front of Eaoden and myself." A flash of guilt and pain tripped through his eyes.

"I told her I felt naught for her," he whispered. I hissed in air through my teeth - of all the things he could have said…! "I did not mean it quite like that," he continued, "I feel for her as a comrade, and respect her as a warrior, but naught as a lover. I wish I could have explained." His mood and countenance suddenly changed - he went very pale and looked almost ill - and he lurched toward me with an almost pained groan, falling to his knees and catching up my hands. "Forget Morwen. My Gods, sweet Idrial, what I have done to you!" he groaned in a pained whisper. "I beg you, I know you are furious with me, you have every reason to be, but please hear my explanation." He looked so wretched. Oh Valar, how I wished to forgive him all his wrongs, to comfort him, to soothe away his obvious pain; but how could I trust him again?

"Get up," I urged him. "I will hear what you have to say, but I cannot promise you more than that. You betrayed me, Berethor, and stripped my pride from me - that I cannot easily forgive." He touched my hands to his forehead, in a sign of deference, and then rose from his knees. He seated himself in one of the gaps in between crenulations on the wall.

"Please, sit with me," he murmured softly. I leapt up onto the crenulation next to him and settled myself at the height of his shoulder, much like we had found Legolas the day before. "You may have noted I was absent from the festivities earlier," he began. "Mithrandir summoned me to him, saying he wished to speak with me. I had no notion it would be anything like this." He gave a bitter laugh. "Gods! Morwen and I meant to celebrate." I must have offered some offended gesture, because he winced. "Forgive me, that was not tactful, I just find the entire situation darkly ironic. No wonder she was furious. Please, hear me out." I reigned in my anger and hurt and bowed my head, keeping silent. "Mithrandir wished to explain what he thought Saruman had been doing to me. He explained that the White Wizard had been influencing my thoughts, my actions and my desires sometimes subtly, sometimes…less so. He explained that I had been captured by Saruman and that the Wizard had exerted his will over me, before I escaped or was rescued, and was found wandering and feverish on the boarders of Lórien. Lady Galadriel and her attendants found me, which you already know, of course, and did what they could for me, but they finally had to release me or risk my madness if I awakened. They released me and sent you after me, to protect me and to derail Saruman's purpose. Mithrandir believes the White Wizard urged me to attack the Nazgûl, planning they should slay or recapture me. Fortunately, you interrupted them. He then sent his Crebain to find me, which they did, after our rest in the outpost, and learned that you accompanied me. Next, he sent the snows to us upon the High Pass; if you had not shared your warmth with me, Mithrandir believes I may have lost appendages to hypothermia, or perhaps even my life. When that did not work, Saruman awoke the Balrog of Moria to attack both us and the Fellowship, which failed only because of Gandalf's interference. Then the goblins were urged to swarm from Moria and attack Lórien, but Saruman seriously underestimated the might of the Elves. He became bolder then, and sent his Uruk-hai to blockade the Emnet Gullies, but we broke them. As we neared Rohan, he tried to capture me in his Uruk-hai net again and again, and failed again and again. By this time, he was very much aware of the growing relationship between us and that your influence and watchfulness of me would make it far more difficult for him to implement his plans. When we liberated Morwen from her village, an idea came upon him. He could feel my admiration toward the Shield-maiden's form - I will admit freely that I am a male, and that she is not unsightly - and though, usually, it would not have swayed me from your side, he decided to nudge me in her direction. Mithrandir believes that Saruman thought our union was a threat to his plans and that if I spurned you, you would draw away from me, perhaps even abandon us, and allow him to proceed mostly unhindered. I am so very glad you did not. He then set Wormtongue upon us in Snowborne and, for the first time, he spoke directly in my mind. 'He obeys me, Gondorian, you do not.' I could never forget those words. He tried to suppress me, tried to allow Grima to kill me but he did not count on how enraged I would be at being possessed. I managed to overcome his dominance. Mithrandir was amazed that I had that much strength." Berethor gave another dark laugh. "Saruman was furious and he urged me all the more toward Morwen. How I fought within my mind, fought against my feelings for you. I think he might have thought to break me. I almost kissed Morwen that night, almost took her to my bed. I never did, you know. He tried once more by ordering Sharku, the leader of his warg bands, to attack us and we almost defeated him before he fled in cowardice. The White Wizard then decided to bide his time, knowing we would head toward Helm's Deep and come up against his Ten Thousand. He must have been livid when it seemed we should survive even that. In his fury he tried a drastic solution - he possessed me and tried to separate me from you and fling me into the path of certain death. It is difficult to describe the sensation of being possessed; it was as if someone else was controlling my body, but I could still see and feel everything that was happening. It was terrifying;" he shivered, "being so out of control. I remember you saved me. You used all your strength to try to pull me back to the keep. I have bruises from your grip on my arms and wrists, you know. I remember you were crying. I wanted so much to stop the pain I was causing you, but I could not, I could not make myself move even a finger against Saruman's will. I was terrified he would harm you. I remember you freed me from him, long enough that I managed to survive the battle he threw us into, with a kiss and some soft words in Elvish. I remember the words - amin mela lle - I asked Mithrandir what they meant, but he just smiled and corrected my pronunciation." He sighed heavily. "I know not the ways of your spell-casters, but I thank you for what you did. So, that is my tale in full, a faithful narrative, as well as I remember it and can piece it together from Mithrandir's suppositions." I sat silent, lost in thought; not much of his speech after his perfectly pronounced Elvish had registered in my mind. I wanted so desperately to believe he was saying those words to me…though, somewhere in the more rational part of my mind, I realised he believed them to be a spell of some sort - ironic, really, for, as the poets say, love is the greatest enchantment of all. Evidentially, I had been silent for too long, for he spoke again, and this time he was on his feet, pacing agitatedly. "You said once that I was not to fall in love with you, for you would have to break my heart. So I say now that I have fallen in love with you, unlooked for as it was, and I ask you only, fair lady…to make it a clean break." Valar, to finally hear those words from his lips! I spoke the first words that came to me in the tumult of thoughts reeling through my mind:

"Would it please my lord to know what those words meant?" I asked softly; the words came out far more coquettish than I had intended, I fear. He looked perplexed for a moment, then furious.

"Is that your answer?" he demanded. "You would toy with me! Very well then, I shall leave you be and bother you not again." He stood up straight and stiff, and walked off, head held high, pain evident in his very bearing.

"Berethor!" I cried, running after him, realising my mistake almost as soon as I had made it. "Meleth nín!" I knew he could not understand the endearment, but it mattered not; I caught him and turned him to me. "Forgive me," I begged, "you mistook my meaning. Perhaps…perhaps this will be better." I pulled his lips down to mine. "Amin mela lle," I whispered against his lips, "it means I love you." He made some sound, of relief or pleasure, perhaps both, and swept me up tightly in his arms, returning my kiss wholeheartedly. We were both too caught up in the other to see the figure that watched us from the shadows.

"Tell me you love me again," I begged Berethor, "say it in my tongue."

"Amin mela lle," he repeated dutifully. I would have to thank Mithrandir for instructing him in the correct pronunciation. "I love you, Idrial; gerich veleth nín."

"As you own mine," I replied, dragging his lips down for another kiss. The shadowed figure snarled and leapt forward, seizing Berethor's shoulder and tearing him violently from my grasp.

"Perversion!" he snarled. "Filth! Depravity!" Rúmil had Berethor pinned easily against the citadel wall, a hand closed firmly about the man's neck. Berethor gasped for breath. Rúmil's eyes were wild and his expression was feral.

"What in the name of the Valar?" I gasped. "Rúmil, what are you doing? Let him go!" He laughed manically, released Berethor - the man dropped to the walkway like a sack of vegetables - and stalked toward me.

"Perverted filth!" he snarled at me, and now I could smell the scent of alcohol strong on his breath, strong enough even to get an ellon drunk. "Harlot! Whore! Bitch! Slut!" He spat at my feet. "To think I ever loved you!" I found myself surrendering ground to him, stalking at me as he was, so furious; I knew his strength, especially as he was obviously drunk and enraged and I was unarmed, was no match for mine and certainly no match for Berethor's. "To think you could bring yourself to touch him! To lie on your back for him! Mayhap I should partake in what you offer the filthy adan so freely. Maybe I should just take what I want from you!" To my horror, I found that he had backed me up against a wall. I realised suddenly that there was little hope for me, neither the guards nor Berethor possessed enough strength to overcome an enraged Elf and shouting for my kinsmen would do me no good, as the noise of the celebrations was so loud that it would obstruct even Elven hearing.

"Think about what you do!" I begged him, admittedly terrified, but my voice did not waver. "You would have me unwilling? Against all law set down by Elf or Valar? I would Fade and what would you do then? Your name would be stripped from you; your brothers would not know you, would not speak of you; no Elven realm would have you; you would never Sail; you would be alone for all time; until you die…alone." I was shouting now: "Your name would be used as a curse! Your feä would be damned to the Void! Valar curse you! Valar FORSAKE you for what you would do to me! Rúmil Kinslayer!" He slapped me - hard - breaking my nose and splitting my lip.

"Never forget that it was you who brought this upon me!" he snarled. I saw the next blow come at my temple, but I could not move away fast enough; whether it was the blow, or the fact that I cracked my head against one of the crenulations, I will never know, but blackness rushed up to me and took me into its embrace.

Berethor has told me at great length what happened after I was struck unconscious, how terrified he was when he saw Rúmil's purpose, and all the other things that went through his mind. Orophin, Haldir, Legolas, Aragorn, Elegost and Mithrandir have given me similar accounts when I asked, though all were slightly differing. I will try to continue the story as best I can from piecing together what I remember of others' memories. After striking me out, Rúmil had a sudden attack of conscience and, fearing that he had indeed killed me, fled. Berethor, though his throat was severely bruised, had not sustained any lasting damage, and he ran quickly to me, crying out for help. Fortunately, the sentries that heard him had the presence of mind to fetch Mithrandir, and with him came Orophin, Haldir, Aragorn, Elegost and Legolas. I maintain that the obstinate Wizard probably knew what was going to happen before it had and either forgot, or considered it unnecessary, for whatever reason, to warn us beforehand. Orophin was a healer in his own right, much like myself, though lacking in magics. He immediately stanched the bleeding of my head-wound and my nose and began to look me over.

"How did she fall?" he demanded. Berethor was overcome and did not answer. "Adan! Berethor! How did she fall? Did she strike her neck…or her back? Answer me!" The Man, again, did not answer. Orophin checked, as best he could, my neck and spine for injuries; finding no indications of such, he deemed it safe to move me. Meanwhile, Aragorn, Elegost and Legolas had been trying to get answers out of both Berethor and the guard that had arrived on the scene first. The guard had admitted, grudgingly and stuttering with embarrassment, that he had witnessed what he thought to be a lover's spat, the three of us bickering on the wall. He had not wished to interfere and had not moved until I had crumpled to the ground and Berethor had begun yelling. He said he thought the attacker was an Elf, but that he had not gotten a clear enough view to be sure. Mithrandir swept the others out of the way and came to question Berethor himself. He turned the Man's head until their eyes locked.

"Did you see who did this, Gondorian?" he asked, slowly and clearly. Berethor nodded slowly. "Did you know them?" the Wizard continued. Berethor nodded once more. "An Elf?" the questions continued.

"Yes," Berethor answered hoarsely, seeming to finally snap out of his stupor. "It was Rúmil." Orophin swore loudly, making the other Elves wince.

"He is delirious," Haldir proclaimed, "he does not know what he is saying. Rúmil may be impulsive, but he would never attack another Elf, certainly not an elleth."

"I am not so sure," Orophin replied grimly, "he was wickedly jealous of Berethor's relationship with Idrial and if he was drunk…I do not know well that he could have controlled himself. I wish not to speak ill of my brother, but if he has attacked Idrial…."

"Orophin is correct, Haldir," Mithrandir sighed, "Berethor speaks truth. Legolas, Haldir, find Rúmil and bind him; he must face judgement. Orophin, bring Idrial and follow me, Elegost, help Berethor and accompany us. Aragorn, you must go to Théoden and explain what has happened, take the guard with you, and ask if there is somewhere we may hold Rúmil. Also ask if we can have access to their healers' supplies." The group split quickly and went to their duties. As Orophin lifted me into his arms, a small packet slipped from the front of my tunic, unnoticed by all but Berethor. The Man leaned down and picked up the item, stowing it in his belt-purse until he would be able to return it.

Berethor sat by my side in Mithrandir's chambers for days, sometimes he spoke to me, sometimes he slept and sometimes he simply let his thoughts wander. Visitors frequently came by, Mithrandir, Haldir, Legolas, Orophin, Aragorn and Elegost mostly, although both Eaoden and Morwen had paid more than one visit. Although I am not privy to the exact details, it seemed that Eaoden, more than likely with a little help from Mithrandir, had managed to calm Morwen and convince her that he held her in far higher regard than Berethor ever would. They were very seldom seen parted after that. Haldir had sent his archers back to Lórien, with a report for our Lady, under the command of his second; only himself and Orophin remained, and Rúmil, of course. Legolas and Haldir had found Rúmil hiding in the caverns beneath Helm's Deep two days after he had first gone missing. He was still raving about the perversion Berethor and I had committed. Aragorn and Mithrandir saw him held in a storeroom, under guard. A week later, all those with talent in Elven healing were becoming worried that I had not yet awakened, and frustrated at Mithrandir for not showing more concern. Every time Orophin, Aragorn or Elegost approached him. He simply waved them off and said:

"She will rise when she is ready." Orophin spent much time by Berethor's side, simply watching over me. I must admit to feeling a great deal of gratitude toward them both for guarding me while I was vulnerable. I know they spoke long about Elves, and Orophin continued to tutor the Man in our tongue. It was on the eighth day that Berethor awoke after a strange dream where he was examining the packet that had fallen out of my tunic, but the second he tried to open it, he awoke.

"Mára aur, mellon," Orophin greeted him and handed over their usual morning fare of juice and gruel.

"Mára aur, Phin. Hannad," he replied. Orophin smiled tiredly.

"Your Elvish is coming along," he commented. "Is there any change?" Berethor shook his head as Orophin checked me over with a healer's eye, just to be sure. He sighed heavily and sat back down. "We ought to see if we can coax some honey tea into her today, or she will not be able to rise if she does awaken," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. "Berethor, mellon, we need to think about moving her back to Lórien. There are better trained healers than I there, not to mention our Lady. Also, you and yours cannot stay here much longer, you have tasks that need to be accomplished, nor can Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stay, and the people of Rohan should return soon to their homes, especially Théoden and his court. I sware Hal and I would take the best care of her, she is as a sister to us and our Lady holds her in the highest regard. She would want for naught."

"Just a few more days, Phin," Berethor begged. Orophin sighed once more, but then nodded.

"A few more days," he agreed. "I am loathe to take her from your side; I think it could worsen her condition. No one knows what the mind can perceive while in a coma, but there is evidence that not everything is completely blacked out. I must ask Mithrandir his opinion in any case; I would not move her against his wishes and I must send word to Lórien, for Hal and I will require help moving both her and…the Prisoner." Rúmil had been stripped of his name and his family, under Mithrandir's judgement, but both Haldir and Orophin were still having trouble coming to terms with the fact they no longer had a brother. Berethor was suddenly reminded of the packet in his belt-purse.

"Phin, do you know what this is?" he asked, removing the packet and holding it up. Orophin scowled.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"It fell from Idrial's tunic when you lifted her off the wall, I picked it up." Phin relaxed and nodded.

"Then you had best keep it, at least for the moment. As for what it is, it is either a coincidence or a sign, depending upon whether you believe such things, and whether or not you recognise the significance of them. I brought it from Lórien and Aron, to give to Rial upon his wishes. It used to belong to their parents, now it belongs to her. Open it, if you wish, but their may be consequences that you are not ready for if you do. Consider carefully." Berethor stared at the non-descript pouch for a few moments; for some inexplicable reason he felt drawn to it. He was not entirely sure he could put it back in his belt-purse and forget about it, even if he wished to. He finally gave in and up-ended the pouch onto his palm. Two rings fell out. They were exquisitely crafted from some sort of pale wood but they had been fire-treated until they were hard as stone; however, they were still almost the colour of silver, and had details that Berethor was not sure even the master woodworkers of Gondor could match. One ring was finer, set with a polished emerald, and had carvings of flowers worked in minute detail into the wood. The other ring was broader and slightly darker in colour, set with a ruby; it had carvings of numerous animals worked around it. "Do you know what they are?" Orophin asked.

"Rings," Berethor replied, "…Elven betrothal rings. I saw Aronel was wearing something similar, and I asked Idrial about it, but these are far beyond the workmanship of Aron's. Whose are they?"

"They were made by an ellon named Elrayon for himself and his mate. He was Idrial and Aron's sire. He was a master woodworker, and apart from making jewellery, he also was renowned for his bow-carving, but most of his weapons have been destroyed. The bow I now carry used to be his; he passed it to Aron, who passed it to Idrial, who gave it to me. It is a privilege indeed to own it. The only other one I know of that still survives belongs to my Lord Celeborn. Technically, the rings should now be worn by Aron and Niphredil, but Aron was taught the trade of wood-carving by his sire and wished to carve his own rings."

"What was their mother's name?" Berethor asked absently.

"Illiri," Orophin replied, "one of the sweetest ladies I've ever met. She was a spirit-caller, just as Idrial is." The Man held up the wider ring, the one that obviously used to belong to Elrayon, examining it in the light.

"A ruby," he murmured. "Idrial said the jewel reflects the month of birth. I know not what jewels stand for Elven months, but a ruby is my birth-stone as well - I was born in July."

"For it to be a ruby, Elrayon was born in Cerveth, the seventh month," Phin replied. Berethor frowned, Orophin's earlier words sounding a cord in his mind.

"The same," he commented. "And the emerald?"

"Illiri was born in the fifth month, Lothron."

"May is also an emerald for my people," Berethor repeated, "do you know if all the stones are the same?"

"No, I do not," Orophin replied, "but it is possible. Likely it is something your ancestors adopted from mine; of course it is also not unlikely that some of them may have been changed over time. I was born in the first month, Narwain, and my stone is the garnet."

"January, I believe the stone I know for that is rose quartz…but I may have heard something about garnet being applicable as well. I cannot remember, I do not know anyone personally who was born then. Phin, what month was Idrial born in?" Orophin paused a moment.

"Lothron, the fifth month, the same as her dam," he finally answered. "Idrial was born on the first day of it, actually. It is a rather common birth-date. Elleths carry their babes for a full year, and May first is the beginning of our spring celebrations. I lot of children are conceived then and born the next year." Berethor had not heard much beyond Orophin's pronunciation of the month.

"This is what you meant, was it not?" he demanded. "Coincidence or sign?" Orophin nodded.

"Indeed. I do not know if you wish to hear this, but you and Idrial seem to be of far more interest to the Valar than is usual for any given Elf or adan, so I will speak it anyway. Upon our birth, Elves are usually given a prophecy, sometimes it is something dire - the worst is when the day and manner of death are revealed - however, sometimes it seems trivial, but usually, it turns out as an important piece of information. Whichever it be, it always comes true. I was told that I would not mate with the one I loved truest of all; I will say that that is true. Idrial was told that she and her life-mate would wear her parents' betrothal rings, and that they would be fitting. Make of that what you will. However, it might interest you to learn that Prince Legolas, …the Prisoner and, I believe, Elegost, were also born in the seventh month, just as you were, making their stones rubies as well. I believe you now have a choice to make." He sighed softly. "I must speak to Mithrandir now, and to my brother. I will return when I am through. Perhaps it would do Rial well if you were to pull back the drapes and allow the sun in for a few hours." He bowed and left the room without further speech.

I was not aware of any of this myself. I knew there were people in the room with me, but I could not respond to them, nor move. Or, at least, I knew it in my brief periods of lucidness. The rest is all some surreal dream where I was a leaf drifting on the wind. I know that is not an unusual dream for an Elf, and it was very peaceful and pleasant, it was no wonder I wished not to leave, not to come back to the harsh, bright and often painful world. I have come to realise that my periods of lucidness coincided with when Berethor was holding my hand, or speaking directly to me; without knowing it, it seemed that he and I had developed some kind of bond and he was anchoring me to the world. So, when he took both of my hands in his, knelt by my bed, and proceeded to speak earnestly of his feelings, it was not so very surprising that I heard him.

"I saw the rings, meleth nín," he said. "Phin said they were either a coincidence or a sign. As I have said many times, I am soldier and, so, I am not qualified to judge which. I wish you were here to tell me. Do they belong to us? It would please me greatly if they should. Were you awake and I had seen what I have, I would ask you to marry me. Would you? I know not." He squeezed my hands more tightly. "You said you loved me, but I truly do not know what that means to you. Would you bind yourself to me, become my mate? Forsake sailing into the West for me? Ah, I cannot ask that of you! You would continue long after I am dead and gone, I would leave you alone in a land that will become wholly foreign to you." He was crying now: "Perhaps…perhaps it would have been better we never met, and you had stayed with Rúmil. I...I will leave tomorrow, Lady, take my party with me and I shall not bother you again. I shall tell Orophin to take you back to Lothlórien and see you healed so you may pass into the West with the rest of your kin, where your family awaits you. I…I wish you a happy life, Lady Idrial, meleth nín." He tried to stand and leave, but he found his hands trapped in mine.

"Idrial?" he gasped. It was a trial for me to open my eyes and look at him, so the fact that I was able to form words was only slightly short of a miracle.

"…'Thor," I rasped, "mell' nín…was having…nice dream…leaf, but…nonsense…had to…wake." I knew I was not making much sense. "Water?" I asked. He was so stunned by my wakening, that he asked no questions and simply moved to get me a tumbler of water from the jug on the nightstand. He was gentle as he helped me sit - my world spun wildly for a few moments, then finally stopped and righted itself - and drink. "Now," I continued, feeling more recovered, "what is this nonsense you are speaking? Did I hear you say you were planning on leaving? You would abandon me again?"

"No...I do not wish that, but I…I cannot ask you to stay with me. I realise now what it would mean. You would forsake any chance of going into the West, seeing your family again. You would be alone here, after I had died. I could not bare it if I dammed you to such an existence."

"Not alone," I replied, "there will be others - Legolas, Lady Arwen, though do not tell Aragorn of that; and my lord Celeborn will not leave quite yet. Also, their children, and ours, perhaps, will be with me, they shall make this land great. And you will be with me, in spirit. I will never truly be alone. I would be more alone, more wretched, if I sailed West and spent all eternity there in Valinor alone, unfulfilled…without you. Would you damn me to that existence? I have had time to think long about this, while you were with Morwen, and while I was lying here, unable to move or speak. Let me tell you this: even before we met, long had I felt uneasiness about leaving Middle Earth. I felt that I had left something unfinished, some greater purpose, now I know why."

"But…but…I cannot ask this of you! Such a sacrifice!" he gasped. I laughed softly, and cupped his face.

"You need not ask for something that has already been gifted, and you cannot return it…it would be impolite." I brought my hands up, though the action cost me more than it ought, and cupped his face, brushing my thumbs over his lips. "I…love…you…Berethor, and I beg you, do not leave me again…please." He wrapped his arms tightly about me and pulled me against him.

"No," he breathed in my hair, "I fear my bout of altruism is ended and I find I am too selfish to insist any longer. I will never leave you, my Idrial, meleth nín."

"Hervenn nín," I replied, reaching for the rings he still held clasped tightly in his hand, "if you will wear my ring…be my mate." I took the larger ring and slid it over the middle finger of his left hand and, as if made for him, it fit perfectly. "The Valar have a hand in this," I commented, "I remember my sire's hands well and they were more slender than yours. His ring should not fit you, yet…. I wonder if my dam's ring should fit me, though her hands were daintier than mine; ought we to find out?" Carefully, his fingers shaking, he slid the other ring onto my hand; of course, it fit. "Hervenn nín," I repeated, "my husband."

"My wife," he replied softly, "I never got up the nerve to ask Phin the words for that."

"Hervess nín," I replied, "but I much prefer Rial, all things considered, or meleth nín; hervess nín is exceedingly formal."

"I never had a pet name," he said, "no one ever called me anything other than Berethor…or things far less complimentary. You called me Thor before, I must profess that I liked that, though it is a touch pretentious - Thor was a god of my ancestors, if I remember correctly, he had something to do with weather, but then, I wonder how many would know that."

"Thor, it suits you, oddly enough; it is very close to the word for eagle in Elven, a symbol of courage and leadership. Yes, I think it suits you verily." Berethor smiled radiantly and played with the ring on his finger.

"I never thought to be a husband," he commented, "but I could not be happier," he leaned forward and kissed me gently, "with you as my wife."

Suddenly, the door rattled, the doorknob turned and Orophin came in. He almost dropped the tray he was holding.

"Rial!" he cried. He glanced at Berethor. "When did you wake?" I leaned back against the head of the bed, my energy suddenly gone.

"Less than an hour ago," I replied. "I was having a wonderful dream about being a leaf…but then someone interrupted me." Orophin raised and eyebrow as he set his tray down on the table.

"Your new jewellery is rather becoming," he commented over-blandly, "'tis official?"

"Official enough," I replied, "Aronel sent me the rings, so I assume I have his blessing, and Galadriel has made it clear, in her own way, how she feels."

"Indeed," Orophin commented, a smile curling his lips, "felicitations then. How do you feel?"

"Tired, weak, and my head aches, but well enough, other than that."

"To be expected, of course," he replied. "I was planning to try to give you this to keep your strength up, but you should drink it anyway." He handed over a mug of tea, laced with honey and herbs. "I should fetch Mithrandir; he shall want to know you are awake. I will bring you something else to eat. And Rial…it is good to see your eyes again." He dipped his head and turned, walking back out the door.

It took me full day before I was able to get out of bed without assistance, and another four before I was able to wield my sword and call to the spirits once more. I learned that Berethor and Mithrandir had been speaking and they had decided that next, we ought to go to Osgiliath and do what we could there. It seemed a good enough course to me. Aragorn was leading Legolas and Gimli, along with Mithrandir and Théoden to Isenguard to see what had become of it and the White Wizard after the attack of the Ents. Haldir and Orophin were preparing to travel home as well, they would meet the warriors they had summoned on the way, and they would all turn back. Berethor and I had promised to return, one final time, to Lothlórien when our task was done, if we could…if we were dead, it would make little difference. Orophin and Haldir had agreed to wait to see us that final time, before they too, sort the Havens. Which left one final matter for me to deal with - the Prisoner, he who was once Rúmil, son of Conwaith, from a long line of respected March Wardens. Crimes were usually dealt with by stripping the criminal of all identity, all names and titles, which is what had happened to the Prisoner while I was unconscious. However, if the wronged party was not satisfied with this punishment, they were allowed to amend it, within reason. For attempted rape, or murder, whichever, I was entitled to demand the Prisoner's death; I feared both Orophin and Haldir half expected me to do so…I feel somewhat disappointed that they do not know that I would never do that. So, on the third day I was able to walk, I went to the Prisoner's cell. He was lying listlessly on a cot, staring out the small window that had been provided him. I ordered the guards to admit me into his makeshift cell.

"Prisoner," I addressed him. He turned his head to acknowledge me and I could not stifle a gasp. Poor creature! He looked as a wraith, a shadow of his former self.

"Lady Idrial!" he gasped upon seeing me and struggled to his feet, before falling to his knees before me. "They would tell me naught of you, I thought you dead," he sobbed. "Whatever judgement you have from me, it shall not be enough. I will never forgive myself for what I did to you." I fell to my knees next to him and braced his shoulders. I had made a decision as to what I was going to do before I came to see him, and now I was sure I had made the right one.

"I forgive you," I whispered. "I do not know why you did as you did, but I know you were not in your right mind and I would not deny you the chance to Sail. So, I restore your name and your linage, Rúmil Conwaithion, and I restore your status as an Elf - you will not be denied passage into any Elven realm - but not your rank. You will be a common foot soldier again, you will tend beasts and guard supplies until you, with your brothers, Sail. In Valinor you will be judged properly, and what they shall will you, I cannot influence. Come now, I will take you back to your brothers." I helped him to his feet, though he could barely stand, and told one of the guards to fetch Haldir and Orophin. The three sons of Conwaith were overjoyed to be reunited and each thanked me profusely and with tears in their eyes. They left early the next morning, as did we….

Translations:

Mellon - friend

Ellon - male Elf

Hannon le - I thank you

Adan - Man, human

Mithrandir - Gandalf, lit. Grey Pilgrim

Amin mela lle - I love you

Meleth nín - my love

Gerich veleth nín - you have my heart

Feä - soul

Mára aur - good morning

Hannad - thanks

Cerveth - the seventh month (July)

Lothron - the fifth month (May)

Narwain - the first month (January)

Hervenn nín - my husband

Hervess nín - my wife

Conwaithion - son of Conwaith