To all who have been reading this story so far, a thousand times thank you! As always, a special shout-out goes to my reviewers: durinsdaughter2469btw, Blue1258, leelee202, Cricklewood16, leward1992, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, SmallLittleCagedBird, Katia0203, mycarnation, xXxLalaxXx, and LadyConfidential.

Since this was a crazy busy week, I didn't really have time to reply to each of you. Just know that your feedback and words of encouragement totally made my week.

This one's for you.


CHAPTER XXXIV

ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN

The white curtains had been pulled aside, revealing the tallest, most ancient trees she had ever seen. Sitting in a chair, near the entrance, Annalyn swept her gaze over her surroundings. Though her face was shaded by the canvas roof, the afternoon sun was low enough to warm her arms, her hands, even her bare feet as they peeked out from beneath the beautifully woven blanket Ithriel had draped over her legs.

Lothlórien was a remarkable place indeed, calming and otherworldly, a veritable balm for weary souls. As Annalyn slowly recuperated her strength, in the white pavilion provided by the Elves, she felt a remarkable sense of comfort, as if a blanket of peace had been laid over her recent sorrows.

It was hard to describe, but time seemed different in this place, the hours blending together in a fluid and tranquil stream, easing her weariness, lulling her thoughts.

"Have rest here. Evil cannot enter this place," Haldir had said to her the other night, adding that she could stay for as long as she needed, that the Lady herself had said as much. It was very kind of them, she thought, somehow knowing what a privilege it was.

As a temperate breeze swept by, stirring her hair and kissing her face, Annalyn breathed in deep, and couldn't help but wonder how many mortals had had the privilege to see what she was seeing now. Not very many, she reckoned, at least no one she knew or had heard of.

Her gaze flitting from one mallorn to the next, Annalyn marvelled at the elegant structures and footbridges that were strewn throughout, at the beautiful spiral staircases that seemed to go on forever.

Despite the vastness of this city, and the thousands of souls who apparently lived within it, it was incredibly quiet here, with only a few Elves strolling about. Presently, only two were visible. Tall and graceful figures in the distance, elf-women with long flowing dresses, their leisurely footsteps falling in tandem.

As she watched them from afar, Annalyn noted how the air was warmer than it should have been this time of year, the city somehow untouched by winter. It made her wonder about the power in this place. How else could such a remarkable forest exist?

Setting this unanswerable question aside, she tilted her face upward, and shut her eyes. After lying in bed for so long, it felt nice to be sitting here, listening to the whispering leaves. Leaves, she marvelled. In winter.

Relaxed and content, she listened to their fluttery sighs for a while. As time trickled by, however, Annalyn felt a faint but growing discomfort in her chest. It was to be expected, Ithriel had said, for the medicine could only do so much for so long. Unable to suppress a cough, Annalyn brought a fist to her mouth. When her fit finally subsided, she saw that the healer had left her work table, and was making her way over.

Stopping by a small serving cart, Ithriel grabbed a silver pitcher and began pouring water into a goblet. "Here. This should help."

After a few soothing sips, Annalyn returned the half-emptied goblet, then watched as the beautiful Elf fetched a chair and set it beside hers. Angling her body in her direction, Ithriel asked if she could examine her for a moment. Annalyn acquiesced.

"All seems well," the healer concluded at length, checking for paleness in the lining of her eyes. Lowering her hands, she went on, "But should your discomfort prove too much, you need but tell me and I shall give you a draught for the pain." Indeed, her abdominal muscles were quite sore from all that coughing. "If you wish, I could even prepare some now."

"That is very kind of you, but..." Annalyn shook her head.

Elvish medicine was effective, highly so, but some of the draughts were potent enough to send her into a deep, deep sleep. And she had slept enough of late.

"You are certain?" Ithriel asked.

In lieu of answering, Annalyn set the blanket aside, braced her hands on either side of the chair, then pushed herself up. "To tell the truth, I would not mind stretching my legs."

Rising, Ithriel made to assist her, but Annalyn waved a hand. Her legs were not exactly steady, but she could stand unaided—she wanted to—even if her head spun a little at first. When the initial shakiness subsided, she took a few steps toward the nearby fountain, Ithriel matching her cautious pace. Hands on her lower back, Annalyn arched her spine, breathed a small laugh, and gazed up at the sky, her body thanking her with every stretch and every step.

"Your strength returns," Ithriel remarked and was not wrong. "You are quite resilient."

"That or merely obstinate."

The two shared a mirthful look. But then, Annalyn's smile faded somewhat. "I need to get well." Her gaze went to the trees, but her thoughts turned to home. "As grateful as I am for your aid, and as beautiful as it is here, I must return to Rohan." To warn my people, she thought. To tell Erna… The latter would be the hardest, she knew. Breaking the news of Aldin's death, seeing the grief in the young woman's eyes… How will I bear it?

Aldin had loved Erna dearly, so much so that he had been planning to ask for her hand. It would have been a good match, for Erna loved him in turn. Deeply at that. Annalyn had seen it and known. Everyone had.

Without question, the news of his death would be devastating to the young woman—the shattered dream of a life never to be lived.

Annalyn and Ithriel passed by the fountain in silence, their feet whispering against the grass. But as they proceeded a little farther, their steps slow and measured, Ithriel broke through Annalyn's thoughts. "Did Haldir mention when he might return?"

A light shrug. "He could not say." As much as she enjoyed and longed for his company, Annalyn understood and could not begrudge him. As Marchwarden, Haldir had important duties to attend to, duties he could not ignore. That said, he always made it a point to check in on her whenever he could, spending most, if not all, of his spare time at her side.

Annalyn appreciated it more than he knew, for solitude was not always easy, even in a place such as this. The loss of her kin had gouged a wound that would take a long time to heal, if it ever did. As silence reasserted itself, her thoughts turned inward even more, to the heartbreak she still felt.

Though Annalyn did not intend it, her sorrow must have shown. "Haldir spoke of your loss," Ithriel confessed at length, her words barely above a breath. "I was sorry to hear it."

Grateful for the sentiment, but not knowing what to say, Annalyn nodded in thanks. To be honest, the loss of her kin was not something she could easily speak of, especially with someone she barely knew. The weight of it was too great, and could not be entrusted to just anyone.

The last time Annalyn had openly spoken of her loss, and how devastated she was, it had opened a floodgate of emotion, and then an unexpected door. That night by the river, when she had shared her grief with Haldir, and ultimately broken down, he had been so incredibly kind to her—listening when needed, offering advice when she had asked, giving her space to weep, then crafting a bed of boughs so she could sleep that night. It had touched her heart. So much so that she had kissed him.

Things had become infinitely more complicated after that. The push and pull of fear, caution, and constantly evolving feelings between one who was mortal and one who was not. Still, despite the emotional difficulty, the two had maintained a closeness that meant the world to her. A woman of Rohan and a warden of Lórien. Unlikely friends, she thought, ignoring the useless longing that yet lingered in her heart.

The two walked onwards, but not very far, for Annalyn had grown weary. Turning back, they were nearing the pavilion when an elf-woman came by, bearing a pitcher as well as a generous platter of food. Unlike Ithriel, her hair was a deep shade of brown, her velvet dress a midnight blue.

Like most of the Elves Annalyn had seen thus far—except for Ithriel and Haldir that is—the Elf was quiet around her. Curiosity shone in her eyes, but she seemed reluctant also, as though she did not quite know what to make of the mortal woman who had been brought in their midst.

Presently, the Elf stopped by the small dining table outside the pavilion, casting a timid look in their direction as she set her burden down, and walked away without a word.

Annalyn sighed.

"Please do not think us cold," Ithriel said once the elf-woman had gone. "You must understand, Lothlórien is quite secluded, and few amongst us travel abroad. Likewise, it is long since a mortal has passed through our gates. Some of those who were begotten here have never even seen your kindred. Not with their own eyes."

Annalyn smiled a little at that. "But you have." A reasonable assumption, given that Ithriel could speak the common tongue when very few Elves could.

"I have. Long ago." The healer smiled in turn, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, warm yet sad at the same time. Clearly, there was a story there, but Ithriel did not tell it, and Annalyn did not ask.

Returning from wherever her thoughts had taken her, the healer blinked a few times, indicated the dining table nearby. "Your meal awaits. I hope it will be to your liking. I requested a more diverse selection this time."

As one would expect of the Elves, the meal was laid out beautifully—an assortment of fresh greens and cheeses, with a serving of the savory broth Annalyn had grown to love. A small basket of bread sat near to it, as did a plate of pastries, baked to golden perfection, and dripping with honey. As if that wasn't plentiful enough, a bowl of berries had been laid out as well, along with a tall glass containing what she guessed was juice pressed from a fruit.

"This more than suffices," Annalyn said, and wondered how she was going to consume all of this.

Though she only ate half, the fare was incredibly delicious, each mouthful better than the last. When Annalyn had eaten her fill, the elf-woman returned, but unlike earlier, she actually spoke this time, timidly uttering what Annalyn believed was a question. Requiring translation, she looked to Ithriel, who was working nearby.

"She is asking if the meal was to your liking."

"Oh." Annalyn inclined her head. "Yes, it was quite good."

The Elf apparently understood. Though her manner was reserved, her features brightened a little. She began clearing away the dishes.

"What is your name?" Annalyn asked in Sindarin.

The serving-maid halted, as if taken aback. But then, her posture relaxed somewhat. She smiled a little and said, "Glirwen."

Annalyn echoed the name. When she used the words Haldir had taught her to introduce herself in turn, Glirwen smiled more fully, and replied in Elvish. This time, Annalyn actually understood, "I am happy to meet you," and it lightened her heart. Not only that, but the brief exchange was refreshing, if somewhat overdue.

As courteous and hospitable as they were, the Elves were not exactly sociable either—at least not with Annalyn. For days, she had felt like something of an oddity, someone the Elves stared at from afar but seldom spoke to. But as she had just demonstrated to herself, it did not have to be that way. Sometimes, all it took was someone willing to take the first step.

"You are learning elvish," Ithriel remarked once Glirwen had gone.

Annalyn pushed herself away from the table, and slowly gained her feet. "I have begun to, yes. Haldir has been teaching me."

"Indeed." Ithriel smiled in delight, but her expression suggested that she was surprised as well. "He seems very fond of you."

"We have become unlikely friends," Annalyn allowed, and looked away for a moment, if only to hide the blush that had crept onto her cheeks. What Haldir felt for her, what she felt for him… it was private and complicated and so very conflicting. Yet as she entered the pavilion, passing by Ithriel's work table, Annalyn could not deny that she often thought of him, remembering those days and nights spent in his company, and wondering just how in the world she was going to say goodbye to him when the time came.

Hoping to deflect the conversation, Annalyn sat on the edge of her bed, looked to the healer once more. "I understand you are wed to his brother?"

"To Orophin, yes. You have met, I believe."

"We have met, yes. However, we have never truly spoken."

Ithriel pursed her lips. "He has never learned the common tongue, it is true." She began to sort through a small heap of freshly cut plants. "He thinks kindly of you, however."

Annalyn's mouth fell open, but she closed it again. Before now, she had never really known what Orophin had thought of her—the same for the other one, Rúmil.

In those early days, when the brothers had guided her company across the Golden Wood, the two had deferred to Haldir, doing as he commanded because he outranked them. But beneath those fair and impassive faces, who knew what they had thought of his decision, and of her? Though, judging by what Ithriel had just said, at least one of them saw her in a good light.

While she could not say why it mattered, Annalyn was gladdened by the notion, and couldn't help but wonder if the same held true with Rúmil, the youngest of the three.

As Ithriel proceeded with her medicinal task, Annalyn noted two small flowers among the heap, their petals unblemished and white. Her eyes widened. "Simbelmynë."

The healer seemed confused for a moment, but then she followed Annalyn's gaze. "These?" Her face brightened. "You mean alfirin."

The Elves might know it by a different name, but Annalyn recognized these flowers, and they were indeed simbelmynë.

Her weariness forgotten, she regained her feet and made for the work table. Her fingers reached for a stem. "These flowers grow in Rohan. On the burial mounds of our Kings." The evermind that bloomed in all seasons. For a moment, she went back to her childhood, to the times she had journeyed to Edoras with her mother and father. "The name you call it," Annalyn said in question.

"Alfirin. Long has it grown in Caras Galadhon."

"I did not know it could be used as medicine."

"Not by itself," Ithriel said. "But when crushed, the plant yields oils that are beneficial in a salve."

Annalyn studied the petals, her fingers twirling the stem. "It is strange hearing it called thusly, and even stranger seeing it here." Setting the flower down, she smiled. "But it gladdens me. A touch of home."

"You must be longing to see it again. Your village."

Her smile faded somewhat. "I am." Well, a part of her was. With her kin gone, nothing would ever be the same again. Seeing the house, walking through the door only to be greeted by stillness and silence… Her chest grew heavy at the thought, her heart twisting in renewed grief. Setting the inevitable future aside, Annalyn settled onto her bed once more, but looked up when Ithriel ventured a question.

"You are familiar with plants and flowers, are you not?" The healer reached for a pestle but spared her a glance. "Haldir said you were quite knowledgeable."

Annalyn shrugged. "I suppose. Though I am certain there is much I do not yet know."

"Lothlórien is home to a stunning collection of plants and elusive flowers. If it pleases you, I could give you a tour of the gardens once you regain your strength."

Annalyn regarded the healer for a moment, a small but genuine smile broadening on her mouth. "It would please me greatly."

Ithriel inclined her head, their conversation seemingly at an end as she resumed her work. But then, as Annalyn went to fluff her pillow, the healer went on, "Haldir will undoubtedly be needed on the marches before long. Most likely before you are well enough to leave here."

Uncertain of where she was going with this, Annalyn waited, watching as Ithriel muddled the herbs.

"Whilst he is gone, if you wish to learn more Elvish…" The healer glanced up again, and her eyes were sparkling. "I shall teach you if you like."


It was late, and he arrived to find that the pavilion's curtains had been left open, allowing a temperate breeze to feather against the sheets and the woman who lay among them.

With silent footsteps, Haldir went no further than the sprinkling fountain nearby. Bathed in the gentle sounds of night, he gazed at Annalyn from afar. She sleeps. The sight gladdened him, for she needed the rest, yet as he looked upon her his smile turned rueful, sad.

A few months ago, if someone had told him that he would befriend a mortal woman, that he would grow to harbour a profound and growing affection for her, Haldir would not have believed it. But he had. He did. More than she knew.

Yet their time together was nearly at a close. As soon as she was able, Annalyn would make for home, to rebuild then live out her life, never to return. As he reflected on that, his mind conjuring images of what might be, his chin dipped downward, his brows knitting together until he smoothed them again.

Would she spend her life alone, he wondered. Or would she eventually meet someone and fall in love? Envisioning her with another man, Haldir felt a sudden and unwelcome pang in his chest. With a great deal of effort, he brushed the feeling aside, and turned to more selfless thoughts, to the only question that should matter in the end.

Would her life be a joyous one?

He certainly hoped it would be.

Annalyn stirred. Her face pivoted until a strand of hair fell across her mouth. Having lingered long enough, Haldir promised to return in the morning, and made a quiet retreat. Yet, as he turned, a sensation came over him, seeped into him, an awareness of sorts—a feeling of contentment and a peace that was not his own.

Looking to its source, to Annalyn, Haldir wondered not at the how, but at the why.

Like all the Elves, Haldir had an innate connection to the world around him. He knew what the surrounding trees were feeling, what the animals were thinking. But peering into the minds of his kindred and those of mortal races required a different skill-set altogether, one he had not been gifted with.

And yet, right now, Annalyn's emotions radiated outward, like a gentle wind sweeping the very edge of his mind.

Haldir had first noted it during their time on the run. Late one night, as she had slept huddled next to him, he had sensed her confusion, her fear, and he had understood that she had been having a nightmare.

Stunned and befuddled, he had marvelled at the connection, but then he had debated what to do. After all, Haldir had not meant to pry into her mind in this fashion, nor did he wish to. But the bridge was there nonetheless, having formed somehow.

The connection to her slumbering mind was subtle, and disappeared altogether whenever she awoke. But when her dreams turned to nightmares, the feeling intensified. It was jarring, if truth be told. Whenever she had a nightmare, her emotions were always the same. First with an invading sense confusion, apprehension, then fear. As distressing as it was, what came next was always worse. A desolate sort of loneliness that reached into the very heart of him.

The first time he had intervened, Haldir had done so purely by accident. Pained by her torment, he had closed his eyes and silently said her name. Whether she had heard him, or merely felt his presence, Annalyn had awoken at once. She always did.

Indeed, Haldir had intervened more than once—thrice to be exact—overruling his reservations for the reason that he could not bear her torment.

Did she know, he oft wondered but was hesitant to ask—namely because he had yet to understand the exact nature of their connection, why it was there, and how to sever the link.

On more than one occasion, Haldir had tried to dismantle the bridge that had formed between them. One night, he had even gone so far as envisioning a mental barrier to shield her against this involuntary intrusion. But his efforts had been for naught and the link remained.

Thankfully, her dreams seemed peaceful now, pleasant. Thinking it was time to leave, he made it all of three steps before a sound netted his attention—the sliding of limbs against sheets.

"Haldir?"

Looking back, he saw that Annalyn was pushing herself into a seated position, a hand rising to rub the sleep from eyes.

"Forgive me," he said. "The hour is late and I should not be here. I meant not to wake you."

"No, I am happy that you're here." Though her voice was softened by sleep, her tone was genuine. Reaching for a nearby throw, she draped it over her shoulders, crossing the fabric to cover her nightgown before rising and venturing outside to meet him.

"Long day?" she guessed rightly. "How was the council?"

"I believe it was fruitful." Hands linking at his back, Haldir followed as she sat on the stone lip wreathing the fountain. As watery patterns reflected on both their faces, he watched her for a moment, noted the healthy colouring in her cheeks. "You look well."

"I feel well. Stronger than I did yesterday." Her words were as heartening as the warmth on her face.

"There was no one around when I arrived. Where is Ithriel?"

"I sent her home to rest."

Haldir arched a brow. Ithriel leaving her charge? Though he supposed the danger was now past. Thanks to Ithriel and her fellow healers, Annalyn had come a long way since the night they had carried her through the gates, barely clinging to life.

"At first, she did not wish to leave, but I insisted. Given that I have slept near an Orc camp, I believe I could manage a night in the heart of Lothlórien." Soft laughter shook her frame.

"No one would ever hurt you here." Haldir knew this with absolute certainty.

"I know," she said, and their eyes held for a beat, and then two.

"I am sorry I have not been present."

Her smile became more subdued. "You have naught to be sorry for. These are dark times, and there is much to be done."

She was not wrong in this. A tireless menace was gathering, and whether they wished it or not, Lothlórien would soon be islanded in a sea of foes. To ready their forces and achieve full strength, the council had agreed on several points today—such as doubling the watches along the borders, establishing lookouts, and dispatching scouting parties in the areas surrounding the realm. Not only that, but efforts would also be made here in the city—from soldier training to the fashioning of weapons, even the production of medicine for the front.

"The evil that is brewing," Annalyn began after a moment. "It is worse than you initially believed, is it not?"

Haldir made no reply at first, but wondered how she knew.

"I see it on your face. Something troubles you."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Am I so easy to read?"

Annalyn snorted at that. "Hardly. If anything, you can be as unyielding as a stone statue." Her mirth receded. "But then, being a warden, I suppose you need to be."

When she lapsed into silence, waiting for a response to her earlier observation, Haldir drew in a breath, and weighed his words. "The situation is deeply troubling, it is true. Worse than aught I had imagined."

"Yet you have kept it from me." Her tone was not angry per say. Nevertheless, Haldir discerned the hurt on her face, and knew he had erred. "Unless you are bound to silence," she said. "I would rather be told the truth than be kept in the dark. I am part of this world, Haldir, and not as delicate as you seem to believe."

He blinked at her words, but ultimately inclined his head. "Indeed. Forgive me. You are part of this world, and as such deserve to know as much as anyone. Nevertheless, you are mistaken in your assumptions."

Puzzlement crossed her face.

"You are not weak in my eyes. Delicate in stature, perhaps,"—this rare quip earned him a playful shove—"But not of will. You have a strong heart, Annalyn of Rohan."

The hurt had faded from her features, a light blush taking its place. His heart the lighter for it, Haldir watched her for a moment. But then, his face turning grave, he asked, "In your histories, have you ever heard tell of a Dark Lord? Sauron he is called."

Unlike most mortals, the Elves had never forgotten those dark days, and the corrupted Maia who had nearly ruined the world. Granted, it had been before Haldir's time, but he had heard the stories many times, mostly from his mother and father who had lived through it firsthand. The War of the Last Alliance, when Elves and Men, under Gil-Galad and King Elendil, had united under one banner to fight for the freedom of Middle-earth. But for most mortal Men, the war was from a time out of mind—perhaps even more so for the Rohirrim who had only settled on the horse plains long after that war. A proud people they were, with a valiant history, but young in the eyes of immortal Elves.

"Sauron," Annalyn said, turning the name over on her tongue. She shook her head.

And so it was that Haldir told her of that time, of the darkness that had nearly conquered Middle-earth. As he spoke, he noted the disquiet in Annalyn's eyes, on her blanching face. When he had finished, she sat there for a long moment, absorbing the enormity of the threat that now loomed over them.

"Could our doom be upon us?" she breathed, as if to herself. At length, like it always did, resolve dawned on her features, a familiar defiance showing in her eyes. "I am not a trained a soldier. I have never ridden with the Eorlingas. Even so, I am a daughter of Rohan. Should the need arise, I will fight for my people and those I hold dear."

Hearing her words, Haldir hoped it wouldn't come to that. Should something befall her… And yet, despite his worries, pride kindled in his heart, for bravery was an honourable trait. And brave she was.

Before he could frame a reply, Annalyn steered the conversation elsewhere. "I meant to ask… Cobalt."

Haldir felt his features soften. "He is being well cared for. Rest and regain your strength, and you shall be reunited shortly. I give you my word."

Reassured, Annalyn looked to the water, her lovely mouth curved into a lopsided smile. Alone with her thoughts, she drifted for a few moments. As her teeth seized her bottom lip, she started picking at her blanket. "How long?" she whispered at length. "How long before you leave for the marches?" It might have seemed like an idle question, but it was not. They both knew it.

Her eyelids lifted, then her eyes locked onto his—hazel flecked with gold. She waited.

"Five days."

"Five days." Her breathless tone betrayed her distress. He understood why.

Committed to his duty, Haldir was eager to return to the border, to oversee the preparations, and serve alongside his kindred. Yet he could not deny that a part of him longed to linger in the city, to spend time with Annalyn before she left for home.

But then, given the latest decisions taken at council, perhaps he would get that chance.

"I may be departing, but my absence will be brief," he went on to say. "I am to return within a fortnight, for I have duties in the city as well."

When she arched a brow, saying, "Oh?" Haldir explained that he had been tasked with training the reserve soldiers. "Of course it will be a joint responsibility. A rotation is being established between myself and others."

Haldir thought she would have been glad, but her features remained sad.

"A fortnight you say," Annalyn said in reference to his return from the marches. She forced a small smile, but there was no cheer in it. When next she spoke, regret laced her voice. "If circumstances were different…"

Puzzled, Haldir waited for her to say more.

"I cannot tarry here. Not for so long. I must go. I must warn my people. I trust you understand."

He did. Better than anyone. Still, much had occurred these past few days, some of which she was not even aware of.

"Five days then." Annalyn gave a single nod, averting her gaze as if to steel herself. "Five days until you leave for the marches and we say goodbye."

"What if you did not have to leave so soon?"

A pause ensued.

"What if you could stay a while longer?" he asked again, partly for selfish reasons, but also because Ithriel had cautioned Annalyn against journeying too soon. Outside of these woods, the terrain was vast and demanding, the wind incredibly cold this time of year. If Annalyn undertook the journey in a weakened state, she could easily sicken again.

"Stay for a while longer? What are you not telling me?" Her eyes had narrowed.

"I took the liberty of sending two of my best soldiers to Rohan, to meet with the Rohirrim and alert them of the gathering threat."

Annalyn's mouth was agape, her eyes widening when she said, "You did?" She hung her head for a moment. "I thank you. And the people of Rohan will thank you."

At her fervent whisper of thanks, he leaned forward to catch her eyes. "When I return in a fortnight…"

"I will be here. Perhaps not for very long, for there is a thing I must do, but I shall remain here until you return." They were merely delaying the inevitable, he knew. Still joy filled his heart, for Haldir was not ready to bid her farewell. Not just yet.

"May I ask you something?" she asked.

"By all means."

With downcast features, Annalyn skimmed her fingers over the water. "There is a young woman back home. Erna she is called. Aldin… he loved her very much. And she loved him in turn."

Haldir's heart clenched at that. By the pain on her face, he knew what she was going to say.

"She does not know. She has no idea that he is lost." Her eyelids lowered over unshed tears, her voice barely audible when she said, "How does one do it? How does one bear giving such horrible news?"

Now it was his turn to sigh. "It is no easy thing. I, myself, have never gotten used to it. Not that anyone should. When the time comes, all you can do is gather whatever strength you have, and hold to it."

Annalyn considered his words. "I suppose you are right."

Before aught else could be said, Haldir heard a sound. Footsteps, he realised. And he knew exactly whom they belonged to. "Ithriel has returned. I should go and leave you to sleep."

Annalyn nodded in agreement, and they both gained their feet. As they made their way toward the pavilion, Haldir slowed near the threshold. "The council resumes tomorrow, but I shall look in on you in the morning." Halting, they faced one another. "Before I leave for the marches, if you feel well enough, would it please you to see the city?"

Warmth suffused her features, her voice mixed with laughter when she said, "Not only would it please me, but I shall hold you to it."