Middle-earth, and all who dwell within it, belongs to Tolkien. I am grateful to him for growing this beautiful garden in which our imaginations can play. Please review!
The fire had burned low. Kili threw a few more sticks into the flames. The dwarves sat in respectful, if uncomfortable, silence. The loss of a kingdom of Men meant little to them, but they knew the loss of Moria, and of Erebor and of Nogrod. Countless dwarf cities had fallen over the ages, and they still carried the grief with them.
Fili watched Betta out of the corner of his eye. She had raised her hand to her face, but he watched one tear fall before she hid the others. He scowled, angry with the Ranger who would tell such a long and rambling tale that only served to cause grief to a member of his company. Fili had had his suspicions of the woman who traveled with them, but she did not deserve to be blamed for a crime that was not her own.
"How is it that you know that the people in your story are the forefathers of this woman's line," he demanded. "There were many men in this land in those days, so you have said, and she may have descended from any one of them, or from none of them. What evidence do you have to burden the branches of her family tree with these cowards of Ankor?"
"As for that, I have none," Harandir admitted. "But I have never said that it was a certainty that her family descended from theirs. I only tell you their story now for it seems to me that there is some connection between their history and the business that you have in these lands.
"But you ask for evidence," he went on. "You have passed what is left of the guard-wall of Ankor. Your friend here has said that you saw the broken cornerstones that are all that remain of it. Did you not look closely? Did you not see the carvings upon the face of the stone that even Harandir can tell are the same as the name upon the page of your map? Ankor was a great city, but few mapmakers marked it even then, for there was no need.
"The design of that box is also familiar, though not to you. I have seen such workmanship in metal and stone shards that are found buried near the old settlements of the people of Ankor. Often after a hard rain, their pottery and metal tools will be found, and that mark is upon nearly everything that they made. If all of this is not evidence enough that what I have said concerns your quest, then that is for you to decide. If you look for certainty, you will not find it here."
Harandir frowned at Fili until Fili looked away again. To deny the evidence at hand would be willful blindness, but still he might have found sharp words to say in his anger if Betta had not then interrupted him.
"So," she said, but she hesitated. The others waited, and Kili looked at her with interest. She seemed about to say one thing but frowned and decided against it.
"So," she began again, "I have sought for answers and now I have them. I come from a line of cowards and deserters. They spoke the truth who said, 'do not dig too deep beneath the roots of a withered tree, you cannot know what bones are buried there.'" She sighed. "And yet… yet it is not wholly unlooked for by me, this poison in my blood…"
"That war was many hundreds of years ago," Kili said. "That poison, if it was ever there, has been washed away by now. Your uncles were not cowards; and, though I have not yet heard their story, I would bet pure gold that neither were your brothers.
"In any case, we know that the box and the map belong to the people of this Ranger's tale. But what of that? Your father's fathers may as easily have tripped over it by the side of the road and passed it down from hand to hand, claiming it for their own when it was not."
"That may be the way of it," Harandir said, but his face showed that he did not believe Kili's version of events. "But be not too harsh upon the people of Ankor, whether you claim them or not as your own. It is true that they turned back from the last battle, the histories tell us that much, but before then, they fought often against the orcs and evil men in their own lands and made excursions into the north to hunt the orcs that dared to dwell in their abandoned halls of stone. Many refugees of Rhudaur and Cardolan were taken in and protected behind Ankor's walls before those walls were burned."
Harandir shook his head. "I have never heard in book or in song that the people of Ankor were called cowards. It was not in their nature to fight under the banner of a foreign king, and the only oath they swore to Arthedain was that they would not fight upon the side of Angmar. That they never did."
"You need not break an oath to be a coward," Betta said angrily. "They rode up to the edge of battle only to turn back."
Harandir pitied her grief and forgave her anger. He told her gently, "Who among us can say what we would do if faced with the terror of the Witch-king of Angmar in the fullness of his power when his wrath and pride were at their peak? Those years were long and dark, and there was great sorrow. Treachery lived within the walls of every city. Never would the Dunedain of the North hold in grudge a man who, knowing his own weakness turned back rather than betray his friends. The battle was lost and the people of Ankor, if they had held to their purpose, could not have saved it."
"Your words do little to comfort me," she said.
"You asked for answers, not for words of comfort. There is nothing more that I can say but this: it may be that not all of the men and women who rode out to that last battle turned back. If there were any who remained faithful to Arvedui, they would have fallen among the soldiers of Arthedain and their names would not be remembered."
That was small comfort, but Betta took what she could from it. There was a chance that her ancestors were the surviving children of a soldier who had remained in Annuminas while the others fled. Remembering her father, she doubted that it was true, but remembering her uncle, she felt a small hope in her heart and she held onto it.
Harandir indeed said nothing more after that, and they sat in silence for a long while, each thinking their own thoughts. The dwarves shared an uncomfortable look. This was not their history or their sorrow, and they did not know what to say to comfort Betta if one of her own kind could not.
.
Eventually, Harandir raised his head again. The night was growing old and soon the sun would rise again. He stood up and said that he must make ready to leave them. "But first," he added, "I would speak with Betta alone, if she will agree, and if her guards will allow it."
"I agree," Betta said.
"But I do not like it," Fili said.
"No one has asked you to like it," Kili told him, standing and stretching his legs, "but it fits my liking well enough. I would speak with you again, brother, also alone."
Fili shook his head, but he stood and followed Kili a few yards away from the camp. Like it or not, he had no reason to say that the man was a danger to Betta, and he already guessed that Harandir saw them not as guards to protect her but as guards that held her captive. Kili was glad that the man had spoken first; he had not thought that he could pull Fili away a second time, and his brother needed to cool his head.
Harandir watched the dwarves step aside, and when they were out of hearing, he moved swiftly around the fire and knelt beside Betta who still sat among the baggage. He took her hand in his and held it tight. She had still been staring sadly into the fire, and he had moved so suddenly that she had time only to be startled and not to pull her hand away before he had already begun to speak.
"I do not doubt that you are in this land willingly," he said, quickly and in earnest, "but I must ask you, are you willingly in the company of dwarves? Do not misunderstand me. If I believed that they meant you any harm, then I would have come with weapon drawn and not with empty hands, but there are times when our choices bind us to a fate that we do not expect, and you should not suffer for past mistakes when I can free you from them."
"I do not know what mistakes you think that I have made," she said. She stared at him in confusion. "Not to say that I have not made many in my time, but there are few wise enough to see tomorrow when they make their choices today. That is not reason to abandon a chance companion when the weather turns cold, and these dwarves are my companions and not my captors. You say yourself that they mean me no harm."
"Those who do not mean harm may still cause it," Harandir said. "I did not ask to speak with you to advise you of either choice, although I must admit that I am surprised by your answer. I only say that if you would be free of them, then I will help you to escape. The blonde one with the sour face, his heart is set on this treasure that he thinks he will find. I know that he will not willingly allow you to leave."
Betta nearly laughed out loud. She remembered a time when it was the blonde one who had ordered her to go on her way. That was less than a week ago, and it was undoubtedly Kili – whose face was perhaps less sour – who had convinced Fili to change his mind.
Harandir did not see her amusement. He grasped her hand tighter and spoke on, "I will take you with me on my journey south and west over Evendim. Even if we meet with orcs, it would be safer than leaving you to travel with dwarves alone into the north. When my errand is done, then I will take you back east to the lands where my people dwell. And then if you still wish it, from there we will find you safe passage back to Lebennin in the south. Surely you have family who are worried and wondering where you are."
"I do not," she said.
Betta thought of living with the Rangers, the wise and proud Rangers that she had always admired – at least, she had admired the southern Rangers who defended the garden of Ithilien. The Rangers of these cold, northern lands did not seem to be as wise if they were all as unwaveringly suspicious of dwarves.
She looked at the Ranger in front of her now. He was more than a full head taller, and his face was grim and lined with the care and sorrow of his life. Harandir had seen many decades in this Middle-earth, and Betta had seen only three. There was nobility in his eyes as well that reminded her of the proud men of Minas Tirith who could still trace their line undiluted back to Westerness. The home that Harandir offered her was not Lebennin, and the Dunedain of the north were not her people, but for a moment she was tempted to accept Harandir's offer.
The steel box felt heavy in her hand, and she thought how easy it would be to put it down and leave it behind. The dwarves could continue on the quest if they wished, and have their adventure; she would give them the map and tell them what was written there. Fili would be angry with her. He would consider it a betrayal, but he had betrayed her, too. Kili would be sad, but she knew that Harandir had misjudged them both and they would not stop her from going her own way.