Chapter 11: The Rumor

It was quite dark, but Jeren could not think of sleep yet. Her mind was in turmoil about what the fight in the dining hall could have been about—especially if it was about her.

She was restless. Elrohir was again ensconced with Aragorn in the alcove, so he could offer her no entertainment. Her knife and dagger were honed to perfection, so she need not see to them. She had cleaned her small room and moved her meager belongings in. The gates were closed for the night, so even if she thought to ride, she could not. And the more she tried to move her mind from the fight between Rhyse and Joem, the more it seemed to lodge more securely there.

She truly had no desire to see Rhyse again this day, but her curiosity about that fight just might kill her. And if she didn't like the answer Rhyse gave, she just might kill him. Of course, she thought sarcastically, that would involve using a weapon—and that could get me disciplined and sent home.

With that caustic thought she got up from her bed. She had shed her knife for the evening, but she now belted it back on. When walking about, she felt naked without it. It had become as a part of her. She paced the small room, trying to talk herself out of seeking Rhyse, but she knew she would not settle until she had some answers. So she set out to find him.

The wall was made of stones mortared together until they reached a height of twenty feet. The gates were wooden, for motility, so they could be opened and closed. There were narrow stone steps that led to sixteen feet up the wall, where there was a ledge for patrolling. The ledge was narrow, but there was plenty of room for sitting or standing. However sitting was against regulations and if you were on watch, you were on your feet for your shift. The shifts were generally six hours long.

The guards had walked the walls at night since they had been erected. When the settlement had first been built, there had been great need for the sentries, but since the Watchful Peace, such vigilance could have been relaxed. Yet Aragorn was ever advised by Gandalf, and the Wizard often told the Chieftain it was better to err on the side of caution, as well as keep the men in skillful routine, for evil again stirred.

When Jeren found Rhyse, he'd been walking the wall for almost three hours. And was he in a mood! The moon was full now, so while Jeren could not see great detail, it did not take much light to see that Rhyse had probably taken the worst of the scrap he had been in with Joem. His lip was swollen, and every now and then he had to dab at it with his sleeve—it still bled some. Even she could see it could use a stitch. She would find Elrohir as soon as she had finished talking with Rhyse.

"More questions?" he asked her.

"Just one," she answered. "Your lip. How did it get so injured?"

"I was in a fight," he answered plainly.

"Tell me about it," she said.

"It was my fight. That makes it my business. 'Tis not worth speaking of."

"I heard the fight was about me. That makes it my business."

Rhyse remained silent and stone-faced, just staring at her.

"So, we are at a stand off?"

Still Rhyse did not answer. He held her gaze with his own.

"I will find out from someone," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I would rather find out from you."

"I took a slight from something Joem said. I hit him. He hit me. I told you, there's nothing to tell."

"When I find out," she said, starting to get angry, "I will come back to see you. Mayhap you might wish you'd told me yourself." She walked away from him, ready to descend the narrow stepway.

"Wait." He didn't shout nor was he loud. He strode toward her till he was right beside her. In a voice quieter still he said, "Joem was speaking in an ill way about you. It matters not what he said. It only matters that I silenced him."

Jeren stepped to within inches of Rhyse. She almost growled, "I can fight my own battles, Rhyse! I do not need you to do it for me."

She turned her back to him again, about to descend the steps.

He walked closer to her, grabbed her arm until she stopped and then he let her go. In almost a whisper, he declared, "He made reference to your being attacked by Orcs. I will not stand by while the name of someone who overcame them is dragged through the muck."

"What?" she asked breathlessly, disbelieving.

Jeren could not have been more surprised by what Rhyse said. How could anyone here know? She'd certainly not told anyone. The only ones who knew of it were the twins, Aragorn, and her father. None of them would mention it in casual conversation.

"I'd rather not speak of this here," he said with quiet earnestness. "Tomorrow. We will leave through the gates and go sit by the river. We can discuss it there. There are ears here you do not wish to listen to what we might say."

Jeren looked around and finally saw that Joem was standing on the far wall from them. He was watching, but she doubted he could have heard much of what they'd said so far.

"Very well," she answered vaguely, and took the first step down.

"Good night, my lady," he called after her. He'd used the title not as a slur or a slander, but as if he meant it.

She descended the steps and did not answer.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Even as troubled as she was by Rhyse's revelation, she had to find Elrohir. He needed to see Rhyse—stitch his lip. She went inside the hall and made her way to the alcove. Aragorn and Elrohir were there. And so was Elladan. He'd come on his own.

As soon as her voice would carry, she said, "I mean not to interrupt. But if one of you could see to Rhyse—he needs stitching. He's on the wall." She turned and left without a backward glance.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Aragorn called out for Halbarad. "Yessir?" Halbarad answered.

"Send someone out to the wall—I need Rhyse here."

"Yessir!"

"Jeren seemed shaken," Elrohir said, when it was just the three of them again.

"Jeren just lost her father," Elladan commented, "Of course she's shaken."

"No, Elladan, it is more than that. And I think it is not something trivial.

"And how do you deduce that, Brother?" Elladan asked.

"The look on her face, first of all," Elrohir replied abruptly. "There was a fight in the dining hall earlier this evening," Elrohir continued. "Estel said it had something to do with Jeren, although he did not know what. So I asked someone who was there and had heard the entire commotion. Jeren's attack by Orcs has become common knowledge."

"How is that possible?" Aragorn asked.

"I'm not sure," Elrohir said, "but I will find out."

They resumed the conversation they'd been having before Jeren came in.

"That last battle we were involved in," Elladan said, "had the Orc strength at just over forty. That's one of the largest we've seen before now."

"And now you say there's a large force of Orcs to the east? How large?" Elrohir asked his brother.

"The scout who reported to Father this morning said at least a hundred strong. What would they be gathering for, if not to launch an attack on someone—somewhere?"

"And their location?" Aragorn asked.

"They were seen just across the Anduin, near Rhosgobel, not quite to the borders of Mirkwood. But the scouting was almost a week old by the time we got it, so take that as it is. They could be anywhere by now."

Elladan walked a short distance away, obviously thinking the situation over. "You do not suppose somehow your identity has been learned?" he asked Aragorn. "While they are still a distance away, and it is most certainly possible that their aim is the Woodland Realm, the Orcs' position is too close to here for my liking."

"Sauron is rumored to be in Minas Morgul," Aragorn replied, "but still not in bodily form. But he does have the Nine to do his handiwork. According to Gandalf, six of the Nazgul are with him in Minas Morgul, but three of them are reported to be in Dol Guldur. Where the Witch King is, is anyone's guess. And that they are behind this surge in Orc numbers is doubtless. But I know not how it would be possible for anyone to know who I am. Only my brethren here and in Rivendell know of my true heritage."

"Yes," Elladan said, "but the Nazgul captured the Palantir when they took Minas Ithil. As we speak, you may be within the sight of any one of those you've just named."

"There is no Palantir near here, to answer the call of another," Aragorn said. "There is very little chance that either Sauron, or the Nazgul have seen me, much less know who I am."

"Ah, but you are not taking into account the power Sauron could have," Elladan said. "There need be no near stone—he could already be powerful enough to be able to use it to see where he will."

Elrohir interrupted their dispute. "Neither of you are taking into account that Rivendell would be in the Orcs' direct path, should they contemplate an attack on this settlement, and none of them—Sauron, the Nazgul—none of them is stupid enough to attempt to go so near to Imladris."

Rhyse walked into the alcove then, and stood at attention, waiting to be told just what exactly he was there for. Instead of speaking to him, Aragorn stood toe to toe with the younger man and grasped his chin in his fingers, turning his face first one way and then the other.

"Jeren is right—you need to be stitched. Sit down, while we gather what we need to sew you up."

In short order Rhyse had been given a couple of strong brandies for the pain, and Aragorn himself was stitching Rhyse's lip.

"What were you fighting about?" Elladan asked Rhyse.

"Words were said that I found objectionable," Rhyse replied, even while Aragorn was trying to set the stitches.

"Hold still!" he told Rhyse. "This is difficult enough without your lips flapping. And you," he pointed at Elladan with his free hand, "quit asking him questions."

Elladan ignored Aragorn and asked, "What words did you object to—about what—or who?"

"I would rather not say," was Rhyse's mumbled reply.

Aragorn stood back, dropping the needle, which then dangled from Rhyse's lower lip by the thread. "What did you object to, Rhyse?"

"If I say, I say it under protest," Rhyse insisted.

"Duly noted," Aragorn said. "Now speak."

"I was trying to quell a rumor about Anardil's daughter."

"What rumor?" Elladan was not going to let up until he knew enough that he could tell Elrohir he was mistaken. Elrohir simply stood by with a knowing look on his face.

Rhyse took a deep breath, as if weighing the pros and cons of disobeying a direct order. Aragorn had told him to speak, but he did not want to talk any more with a needle and thread hanging from his mouth.

"Could we finish this first?" he asked, pointing lipward. "And then I will answer your questions, if I'm ordered to do so."

Aragorn took up the needle again and resumed the stitching. "You are so ordered," he assured Rhyse.

The cut only took three well-placed stitches, so Aragorn was finished less than two minutes later. As he cut the thread away, he said, "Now, what did Joem say that you objected to enough to earn you five nights of wall duty?"

Elrohir, Aragorn and Elladan were all staring at Rhyse, waiting for him to answer. And he really did not want to discuss this. It was not in his nature to promote hearsay, and until he spoke to Jeren tomorrow, he would not know for sure if what Anardil and Elladan had said was true—if she even consented to tell him about it.

Anardil had been fevered—he could have been out of his head. The fact that Elladan had argued with Anardil posed a question, but Rhyse did not hold with rumors until someone in a position to know set him straight about them. However, Rhyse had been ordered to talk, so he would obey.

"Joem made reference to something Anardil said when he was fevered and talking—" Rhyse paused, choosing his words with care, "—he was not exactly out of his head, but he spoke more than he usually did. Anardil was typically a very quiet and thoughtful man. He never let on about his cares. So what he said was very unlike him. I thought it the fever talking. His remarks were about his daughter, being overrun by Orcs at their cabin when he was out on patrol."

Rhyse then looked at Elladan. "And then you answered Anardil, saying that she had prevailed over the Orcs—that she'd lived. Joem, Brid and I were all sitting there, and I know what I surmised from the things that were said. And from what Joem said in the dining hall this evening, I am sure he surmised it also. People attacked by Orcs hardly ever survive, and women are always—" Rhyse paused again, looked at each of them staring down at him, and let that thought go. "And since Anardil is no longer here to defend her honor, and Jeren was also absent and could not do it herself, I took it upon myself to set Joem straight."

"What exactly did Joem say, Rhyse?" Elrohir asked.

"I will not utter such filth," Rhyse replied stoically. "It was beneath what a decent man would ever say about a lady."

"Thank you, Rhyse," Aragorn said after a few moments, breaking the deadly quiet that had overtaken them all. "You are dismissed." Rhyse got up from his chair and left, going back to the wall to finish out his shift.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The twins looked at each other. Elrohir's eyes were filled with empathy. Elladan's wore guilt in their depths. Aragorn watched both of them, well aware of their compunction to mind speak with each other, whether others were present or not.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Aragorn asked his foster brothers.

They both turned their eyes on him. "Us?" Elrohir asked. "You are her kinsman. Why don't you do something about it, since it is your men causing the trouble?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't me who had the loose tongue."

Elladan glared at him. Then his gaze softened. "I barely recall the incident. I remember tending to Anardil, and I also remember thinking that he had certainly lost his tendency toward quiet." He turned to Elrohir. "You were there. Is what Rhyse said true? Did I really say those things with the others present?"

"I'm afraid that you did, Brother," Elrohir said softly. "And I thought both you and Anardil were certainly loose-lipped. I had also begun to link your strange behavior to the poison, but by that time, the damage had been done. I'd hoped those present were honorable, and that it would go no further. My hopes were obviously in vain."

"I was not still fevered by the time this happened," Elladan said. "The poison is indeed the cause. Somewhat of a truth-inducing toxin, or disturber of the mind, allowing thoughts one might never say to escape one's lips. I can see how Orcs might incorporate that if they would take prisoners. They could ask vital questions and then the prisoner would die a horrendous death within a few days—both things quite pleasing to those animals. My part in this sickens me. I've never been one not to mind my words in the presence of others."

"So now what remains is what are we to do about the situation?" Elrohir wanted to know.

"What is there to do about it?" Aragorn asked. "The word is out. The damage has been done."

"I will go speak to her," Elrohir said. "At the very least, perhaps I can ease her mind."

"No, Brother," Elladan put in. "It is my fault this has happened; it should be me who finds her. I must apologize to her."

"Elladan—" Elrohir said in warning, "you need to keep your distance from her."

"Now who has loose lips?" Elladan asked, glancing meaningfully at Aragorn. Then he smiled. "Worry not. All will be well, Elrohir."

And he left them there to say what they might.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Elladan knocked softly on the little door in the loft, where he was told that Jeren was staying. She did not answer, but he would not be deterred. He opened the door of the cell, the Spartan surroundings lit only by the moon shining through a small, high window set near the peak in the roof.

"Elrohir, for once I'm truly glad you came in without being invited." Jeren had been lying on the small bed, still fully clothed, right down to her boots, but she sat up and held out a hand to the Elf walking through the door. She'd been half expecting him to come and comfort her. What Rhyse had told her had shocked her to the bone, and she knew Elrohir had read it on her face when he'd seen her in the hall.

Elladan did not hesitate, nor did he set Jeren straight. He feared she would turn him away were she to know which twin he really was. He'd been terribly hard on her the last few times he'd seen her. If she weren't angry with him, he would be very surprised. And he needed to talk to her.

He took her hand and climbed onto the small bed and eased her down to lie on her side, he lying behind her, spoonlike. He held her close; he could hear her heart beating.

Before he could say a word, she asked him, "How could they know?"

Elladan truly did not like deceiving her. But he needed her to accept his presence gradually. He whispered so she possibly might not realize she was speaking to him and not Elrohir.

"Who, Young Lady—knows what?"

"At least some of the men," she answered, "know about the Orcs' attack on me. How could they know?" she repeated.

"Does it make a big difference?" he whispered again.

She was silent for a few moments. "My first reaction was shame and guilt," she admitted, "but then I remembered, I did nothing wrong."

Elladan propped himself up on one elbow. "You absolutely did nothing wrong." He had not whispered, had not tried to emulate Elrohir this time when he answered.

She turned, rising up on her elbows, too. "Elladan?" she asked, bewildered.

"Yes, Jeren."

She rose and lit the lamp. When the light hit Elladan's face, she asked him, "Why are you here? I thought we were going to avoid each other. And now—you've invited yourself to my bed?"

"I need to talk to you." He paused, then added, "I know you are hurting. I only thought to ease your heart."

"What you're doing is confusing me," Jeren said truthfully.

"I mean not to."

"Why are you here?" she asked him again. "Elrohir is ever the one who tries to ease my heart."

"In this case," he said, guilt written plainly on his face, "I'm the reason your heart needs easing."

At her puzzled expression, he added, "Just let me explain and apologize—then if you still want Elrohir, I will fetch him."

Elladan told her the story he'd pieced together from things Rhyse and Elrohir had said. He was careful to leave Rhyse's name out of it, as much as he could. Rhyse had only tried to help her—he did not deserve her wrath for having told tales about her out of her presence. Moreover, Aragorn had ordered the man to talk.

"Jeren, I am deeply sorry for my part in this, but I think the subject never would have been spoken about at all, if not for this new Orc poison. Your father, I now understand, was affected by it in the same way as I. I barely remember the incident. I do not remember saying what Elrohir assures me that I did."

"If it was the poison," Jeren asked, "why did it not affect me and Elrohir when we were cut with the blades from the same band of Orcs? I know the blade that cut me was poisoned. Even with Elrohir's drastic treatment of it, it still became badly infected—and soon."

"Are you sure that it did not affect you? Only the two of you were there. Perhaps it did, and you do not recall it." Elladan thought about it in silence for a moment more. "Perhaps your wounds were tended sooner, so you did not get the full effects of the toxin?"

"They were without doubt tended sooner," Jeren commented. "That could be the answer. And by then, Elrohir knew to burn the wound to stop the poison's action. We saw to each other very quickly after the battle. My father did not receive care for at least an hour—you, closer to two."

By now they were both sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. Jeren said, a small smile on her lips, "I've missed this."

Lines between Elladan's brows told her that he didn't understand exactly what she meant.

"Speaking easily with each other, like the friends we used to be."

He returned her smile. "I've missed it, too."

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Jeren said, "I'm sure most of the men have heard about my run-in with Orcs by now, so I might as well stop trying to win them over with my endless charm." She smiled at her usual sarcasm and Elladan chuckled.

"I'm truly sorry, Jeren," he repeated. "Could I make it right, I would." He frowned. "So, what Aragorn and Elrohir fear is true? You are here to try and win a place with the rangers, even though you've been told countless times that endeavor is fruitless?"

"What else am I to do with my life, Elladan? I cannot rely on Rivendell to support me forever, even though your father would have me there, served with silver platters and sitting on satin pillows."

"There are other things to do there as well as here, Jeren," he told her.

"What, Elladan?" she asked him, quiet intensity in her voice. "I'm no scholar, nor am I a healer, nor do I want to be. I am a warrior. And I'm extremely good at it, if any of you would let go of the notion that I'm a woman and that those two things oppose each other." She rose from the bed and paced a few steps away.

"This is all I've ever done, Elladan. My father took me out on patrol with him when I was thirteen. He started training me well before then. I've seen what goes on, and I want it! I've spent the past several years perfecting myself, and for what? No one will open the door a crack to even peek out and see if I'm capable or not. Well, this door is cracked and I intend to take full advantage of it. I will not quit until I'm either dead from trying or I'm allowed in fully."

Elladan seemed lost in thought, but Jeren knew he'd heard her. Finally he looked at her and said, "Elrohir spent some time with Glorfindel when last we were home . He questioned him long about your abilities and stamina, as well as your courage and heart while in battle. Glorfindel told him that at first his warriors knew not what to do with you, when called to spar with you—or, Valar forbid, go hand to hand with you. But that it was your dogged determination to be accepted by them that finally won you your place, and they learned to treat you like any other warrior.

"He told Elrohir that as long as you did not lose heart, he had continued teaching you, until he felt you were ready and from then on your only teacher could be experience. And as for your courage and heart and stamina, Glorfindel said you have all three.

Aragorn would be ready to give you your chance, but majority rules the rangers, and he knows there cannot be a majority yet who would vote you in to be a recruit. Elrohir and I have been extremely reluctant. None of us could abide losing you in a battle. And—we love you—but I think it would kill my father if anything ever happened to you."

Jeren was stunned for the second time this evening. It bolstered her heart to know that Glorfindel truly felt she could be a warrior and that he hadn't just given up on her as a lost cause and turned her away for someone else to manage. Jeren was confident as a whole, but being the lone woman amidst males of all sorts tended to drain on one's energy at times. She'd had her doubts that Glorfindel was being completely truthful with her. But he would have no reason to deceive Elrohir.

And Aragorn's attitude—she would never have guessed it in thousands of years!

She hoped she'd not shown her surprise on her face, because the last thing she needed Elladan to see in her now was self-doubt of any kind. Bringing her mind back to the conversation at hand, she told Elladan exactly what she thought of his last remark.

"How do you think I felt every time my father or you or Elrohir rode out to fight with the rangers? Just because I'm a woman would not make the loss of me greater than either of you! My father is gone, and despite our differences, I feel his loss deeply. You and Elrohir might be Elves, but you are not impervious to the sharpness of a blade or the well-placed arrow!" She sat back down on the bed. "And I've made enough sacrifices for your father. I'll not give up this dream for him, too."

Elladan's piercing stare at that final remark told Jeren she'd said more than she ought. She was not of a mind to tell him about it, but he had the look in his eyes that she knew meant he would not be put off.

"Your father spoke to me the night before I left Rivendell," she said. "He knew about us—that we'd been together. He told me his children actually have a choice of whether to stay Elven or to become Human. So I've decided—"

"He had no right!" Elladan interrupted angrily. "How could he tell you this after he'd spoken to me that same night? And he talked of trust—" Now it was Elladan's turn to stalk the room.

Jeren tried not to let anger enter into the conversation. She had welcomed their reclaimed friendship, and did not want to lose it now, but this was something they had to discuss.

"He had every right, Elladan," Jeren said, her voice even and calm. "He's your father, and he wants not to lose you. Any rational parent would have done the same and you know it."

She could see his shoulders relax, as he stepped back to the bed and sat again. "But to shorten the story somewhat," she continued, "he asked me—not precisely in these words—to leave you alone. And I've decided that's exactly what I'm going to do." She looked at him, tears in her eyes that she desperately hoped would not fall. "It will not be easy. I love you as I've never loved another. I wish to do as your father asks, but it will take me time. I think your idea that we stay clear of one another is a good one."

"I do not like the notion that he is intruding in this," Elladan said with force. "He's lived his life and now he must let me live mine. I do not want to hurt him, but whom someone loves in this life is in some ways more important than the length of one's life. This decision Elrohir and Arwen and I have to make—eventually—is just that—our decision. My father has made his choice. He needs to tend to his own cares."

In a much calmer tone Elladan added, "Forget what my father told you, Jeren. This has nothing to do with him."

Elladan took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. "Most of all, I want not to hurt you. That is of utmost importance. But I am sorry, Jeren; I love you, yet I think I do not love you enough for us to bond forever. You deserve someone's total heart. Perhaps my feelings will grow stronger with time, but that is not something we should base our future on. I have all the time the world has to give me. You do not. If one must work this hard at it, then perhaps it is not a love that was meant to be."

Jeren pulled her hands from his to wipe at her eyes before the tears had a chance to fall down her cheeks. This was all too complicated—this love between Humans and Elves. No wonder it was not customarily done. Her Human heart was passionate and fiery, quick to love—and hate as well. But Elves hearts seemed to move at a much slower pace, and in this case, Elladan was right; she probably did not have the time left on this earth to wait for him to make up his mind. And if he had to think and dwell upon it this much, his love for her could nowhere equal hers for him.

"I know what I feel Elladan," she answered quietly. "I know I love being with you and near you; I love talking with you and even fighting with you."

"Can you not say the same things about Elrohir, Jeren?" He asked her with quiet seriousness. "He knows you like I do not."

"And he exasperates me like you do not," she added, with a smile. "He I have no doubts about, Elladan. I love Elrohir as if he were my brother. You—the feeling is quite different, and I've never been able to decipher why."

He took her fingers again, somehow needing the contact. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, gazing at her hands as he did. He then looked back at her. "I have been watching Rhyse with you. He has the look about him of a man interested in a woman. I think you should consider him."

Jeren smiled, because a part of her still could not believe Rhyse had asked her if he could court her. Then she said as much to Elladan.

"What did you tell him?" he asked her.

"I told him I would think about it."

"And have you?" He let go of her hands and stood again.

"I find the idea somewhat ludicrous, to be honest," she admitted. "But I have thought of accepting his courtship; so that ultimately he might influence the other rangers in my favor." She looked at Elladan to judge his reaction to this news. As ever, when he had a mind to, he gave no hint of his feelings.

"Spend time with him," Elladan encouraged her. "It might be that he is the one for you. That I have been but a passing fancy."

"A passing fancy that lasted for over seven years?" Jeren asked doubtfully.

Elladan smiled at her usual sarcasm. "To an Elf, seven years is but a heartbeat," he told her.

She stood then, too. She felt like weeping, knowing he simply did not love her as she loved him. But she could not fault him. As she well knew, one's heart did not always give one a choice as to whom it would love.

She stepped into his embrace, holding him tightly, not wanting to let him go. But with gentle hands, Elladan smoothed back the tiny tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid. With his fingers framing her face, he looked at her long. And with the slightest of smiles, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

He slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o