Chapter Fourteen
Erestor woke her, shaking her gently until she was sitting up. Curunír had arrived before dawn and was still speaking with Elrond and Glorfindel. He had neither unpacked nor eaten, intending to ride out again almost immediately. Erestor made her dress in a travelling tunic and hose and grey half boots, her hair pulled back under a hood so that she could pass as a young boy, one of the Edain and nothing special except for her cloak.
"There, you will pass unnoticed in Gondor," he said gently. Every movement seemed slow, he watched her eat her porridge as if it was worthy of great thought and contemplation.
"Uncle?"
"Are you ready?" Reluctantly she nodded, her wooden archer clasped in one hand. Erestor reached knelt down and handed her a toy ship. "Protection," he said quietly. "And home, held in each hand." Gently he put them in her pockets and stood up. She hesitated before taking his hand.
Through the brilliantly painted halls he led her, past pictures of heroes she had yet to learn the names of.
"Can we see Gondolin before I go?" she asked quietly. The one painting Glorfindel refused to look at, the white stone city enclosed by mountains. Erestor did not answer but his stride changed direction and they were there, in the wide audience chamber she had never known to be used.
"The King's chamber," he said, looking in. "When a king comes once again to Imladris we will meet him here, flanked by the sons of Fingolfin." She traced the line of Fingon's cheek as it shone out against the black cliffs of Angband, Maedhros held like a child in his arms.
"Or a Queen." Erestor sighed, holding out a hand once more.
"Aye. Come now." The corridor was long, the torches extinguished for the day although the dawn light had not quite reached every corner. Onwards they walked, her skipping to match her uncle's steps across the marble floor. Through the Hall of Fire where Mayra waved from her corner, out into the sunlight.
She stood on the steps, clutching at Erestor's hand as Curunir entered the courtyard. She had her bag clasped to her side underneath her cloak, held tightly as if she would lose it.
"Is she ready?" Curunír asked Erestor briskly. Steps behind them made her turn around, Edweniel hugging her tightly.
"I am jealous of you," she whispered. "I wish I was going."
"I wish you were coming," Yarna answered, looking up at her. Edweniel suddenly seemed tall and old, one of the grown-ups and the world grew in size. Valandil came up to them, hugging her in turn. He had grown too, looking more like Lindir than when she had arrived. His face has grown lean, looking more like Elrond than before and he had to bend down to meet her eye.
"When you come back I'll be king," he said proudly. "Then you can come to Arnor and be a great lady." Dumbly she nodded, not sure if that was what she wanted. "Here." It was a flower, picked from the small bed that contained only golden buds beside one of the fountains. Valandil wound it gently into her hair.
"Yarna?" Erestor smiled kindly, kissing her forehead as he pulled her away from her friends. "Stay safe. We love you, tithen pen." She flung her arms around him tightly before he pushed her away towards Curunír. If he had not, she doubted she would have let go.
"Come, child. The world awaits." Tentatively she took a step towards him and was engulfed in white robes as he lifted her high onto his white horse. Once seated pillion, holding on tightly as she had with Galdor on the ride to Imladris, she turned to look back at the House. From the window that looked across at the tree, where Erestor had had them waiting for Glorfindel, her blond uncle stood forlornly. He raised his hand in farewell and looked away, she could not see his expression. All she wished for was to go to him, to run back into the house and hug him for he did not seem happy as he stood in the window of Erestor's office. Her Ada had not waved goodbye, only Gandir had even been awake to see her leave. This time it was different but felt just as sad. There was grief and trouble in the Homely House, away from which she was once again being taken. Although she did not want to see it, she could not help but want to stay. Inside the valley it was safe, outside was a world that had stolen her Naneth and made her Ada turn her away. In Imladris she was Yarna, outside she was nothing but a ghost. She touched the boat in her pocket. Home.
"Curunír?" she squeaked, about to ask to be let down. The horse stepped forward and she had to cling on.
"Navaer, Yarna!" Edweniel called excitedly, her two friends waving. Lindir waved farewell from the doorway and Elrond had appeared. All together they saw her off, Curunír's horse trotting out onto the causeway. Just as they turned and she could not pivot any further to see them, Elrond took Erestor's hand gently, pulling his friend close.
"Curunír?" she asked again.
"Yes, child?" She could not ask to stop now that they were already out on the road. The waterfall that had greeted her thundered all the more loudly as they rode along the cleft, biding her farewell. It had not slept whilst she was there, although she hardly heard it at night. A silence awaited beyond the valley, where there was no waterfall to guard them.
"Is it an adventure?" That was all she could think of to ask.
"If you like." Perhaps if it was an adventure, just as Ada used to tell them then it would be alright. For everyone came back from adventures, or so Lindir said. Not everyone came back from war, or travels.
"I should like it to be an adventure," she told him. "How far is Gondor?"
"Too far for you to start asking that now." She glanced back at the House by the waterfall but could not see anyone, save a few out on the training field and one dark figure standing by a willow tree in the gardens by the river.