Chapter 4

Haldir went back the next day, but the strain seemed to have been too much for Hylin's state of recovery and he was turned away by the nurse. He had immediately sent out word through his messengers to inquire after the young woman among the closest Edain settlements. After a great deal of thought, he penned a letter directly to Arathorn of the Grey Rangers. The man deserved to know that something amiss had happened to the caravan that had carried his future bride.

Haldir had never met Arathorn, but from what trickles back to Lorien from the world of men, he seemed a well-respected war lord. Young for his countless achievements, and hard as granite, Arathorn had shown a wisdom beyond his years in the management of his people, and their protection of the weaker peoples within their realm. Haldir had even heard tell of a band of rangers who lived out their days guarding a helpless species called Hobbits in the lands far to the West. What motivation the young war lord had in guarding a seemingly inoffensive people that would play no great part in the future, Haldir did not know. But it spoke well of Arathorn's attention to detail. Clearly nothing was beyond his notice.

Haldir had handed off the letter with only a moment of hesitation, but shook it off as merely a doubt in the worth of humans. Doubtlessly, no word would come from the young war lord, as the humans viewed the elves with suspicion, but Haldir's duty would have been performed. If and when, he discovered the importance of the young woman in Lorien and discovered if her ownership of the ring of Barahir was legitimate, he would contact the man again.

Roswyth, the elleth who had been caring for Hylin sent word the following day that she was prepared to meet him again. His step was light and swift as it carried him to the flet where she was living. It must have been the break in the weather. The weeks of rain had lifted and a spare, golden sun had flamed through the wood drying the heavy layers of damp that seemed imbedded into the forest floor. It had lifted Haldir's spirits, to see the damp evaporating away in the sunlight, showing some green beneath the brown bracken of Autumn. The cold was not much alleviated, but no one was going to complain about any warmer weather.

"She is in a mood today," Roswyth warned, her hazel eyes snapping with mirth, "I think she is feeling much better."

"Should that not lift her mood?" Haldir inquired. He stood watching the elleth at her needlework once more, stitching beautiful scroll work into the neckline of a gown.

Roswyth clicked her tongue softly, "One would assume, but things are not always so clear with the Edain. She seems frustrated with her own weakness and appears to want to go despite it. It is a trait of men, I believe, to push the body beyond all reason."

"I shall see to her," Haldir pressed his lips tightly together, "She owes more answers than deserves questions as it stands."

"Oh I think you should have conversation aplenty," Roswyth smiled absently, "Much of it, you may not wish to listen to."

Haldir shook his head as he moved into the flet. He found Hylin seated onto the chaise, her hands clasping the window rail in two hands, her face was pale, her breath quick and sweat stood out on her brow.

"What are you doing?" he asked not unkindly.

"I-" She breathed, "I—I'm trying to stand."

She pulled herself up as he rushed to her side and caught her elbow to steady her as she straightened her legs in triumph.

"There you see!" she crowed, "It isn't impossible."

This last comment was addressed to the closed door Haldir had just entered as if the words were meant for Roswyth.

"Yes, you have done it, now sit down," he directed. Her arm in his hand was shaking with the effort and she might faint if she did not give in and rest.

Her eyes flashed up at his in annoyance, but she allowed him to help her slowly to a seat. Sweat clung to her upper lip and she wiped it away on her sleeve.

"So Warden, you see I am mending."

"Slowly," he answered, "As your kind do."

She signed, "You are condescending today."

He blinked as he stepped away from her, "I beg your pardon?"

"You elves think much of yourselves, I find," she answered, "I hear nothing from my nurse, but the weakness of human flesh. I hate the way she says the word flesh—like a piece of meat."

"Roswyth is a considerate nurse," Haldir defended.

"Perhaps, but her manners are a bit deaf. I may be ill, but I am not a child and I dislike being treated as one." Hylin's cheeks were flush with anger, "I was not raised to be told to obey."

Haldir pouched, "What were you raised for?"

"I—" she stopped dead. Her eyes narrowed and she snapped her lips shut, "You are better than tricks to get your answers."

Haldir said nothing. He moved to his usual chair, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His posture was relaxed, but still caused Hylin to shift in her chair. Her eyes, he noticed, were more guarded now.

"Hylin," her name sounded strange on his tongue, "You have come to us in a strange way. You arrive barely alive and tell of murder among your people. We have done nothing but aid and comfort you. It would be reasonable to assume that we mean you no harm, and that whatever tale you have to tell, it would not mean danger to you."

She looked momentarily ashamed at his words, "I am sorry, Warden. You certainly saved my life and I am grateful for it. But," she bit her lip, "But my secrets are my own. If all my people are dead than I most care for myself going forward."

"We did not find your people," he explained, "We could not recover any evidence of the attack."

"Nothing? They laid waste to our caravan!"

"There may have been bodies, but they would not have been left behind," he said treading carefully.

"Oh God," her hand went to her throat, "Do you mean they-do you they would have?"

She couldn't finish the dreadful sentence. He nodded to confirm her fears and all the color drained from her face.

"They did not deserve that. They were good men, all of them. None should have seen such an end."

"Nah," he agreed, "Such things are the darkness of the world. Yet you were spared, and I would wager that they would rather see you here alive then dead amongst them. Especially," he paused, "one who bears the ring of Barahir."

She looked away, as tears ran silently down her cheeks, "It is a curse." She said thickly.

"How so lady?" he asked gently.

"Death and sorrow follow it," Hylin shivered.

"It carries great meaning."

"It does, if you believe in fables of the past," she cried, "Of noble men and great wars."

"They are not fables," Haldir answered.

"And you would know," she replied hotly.

"I was there."

She gaped at him; her tears forgotten.

He stood, "It is true that a woeful past follows that line of ringbearers, but greatness joins it hand-in-hand. If you carry it now, then you too, are part of that history. Those men who were slain in your defense, are part of it. The tale you tell with your life is the best honor you can repay them with—as it is with all survivors."

Hylin's hand had crept to the bodice of her gown, where the ring lay warm against her heart.

"You almost make me love it," she whispered.

A moment of understanding bloomed between them as the sun stole through the window creating a golden path along the floor. Their eyes met in the silence and in the depth of each other's gaze, something was born. Haldir caught his breath and broke the hold of the moment.

"You must be tired," he said firmly, "I will come again."

He did not wait for a reply, but marched from the room with quick steps. For a long time, Hylin sat looking after him. In her hand was the ring, her long fingers moving the circle around and around the metal; her mind lost in though.