31 / 12 / 24 ~ And in which Eleanor feels Tink's fear.

Disclaimer:"The Lord of the Rings" is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership over Eleanor Dace, Rávamë (aka "Tink"), and the subsequent plot of their story.

A/N: Please believe that no one is more surprised to find another update so soon after the last one. I am simply riding this inexplicable wave of sudden inspirations as far as it'll take me.

Originally this chapter and the next were the same, but I've decided at the last minute to split them one down the middle and post them separately. Partly for the tone shift (you'll see what I mean) but mostly because I got the first half of this chapter done so fast I feel like you guys deserve it quickly after being so patient this year.

So apologies if it's a bit shorter than expected, but it was done with good intentions. Happy New Years Eve, and I hope you enjoy.

Part III : Chapter 23

- A Maia's Fear -

It had been a two-day ride back to Edoras after Saruman met his end, and we left surprisingly quickly.

Almost the moment the former White Wizard's body had been set to rest in the earth he'd squandered, Theoden and Gandalf had ordered us all to prepare for the journey back to Edoras again. Merry and Pippin had said their goodbyes to Treebeard, promising to visit again whenever they could, and also promising to let him know if they happened to stumble across any Entwives.

I'd been too afraid to ask.

Ironically, the ride out from Isengard was markedly more sombre and quiet than the ride there, even with Merry and Pippin back. The high of two battles won had worn down with the realisation that the true enemy was still moving, and we didn't know exactly where he'd try and strike next. We were all tired, hungry, and in dire need of fresh clothes, and no one really felt like chattering as we crossed Rohan back to her capital.

Even Tink was uncharacteristically quiet, though I suspected that was because the exchange with Saruman had affected her far more than she was letting on.

When we finally did arrive back in Edoras again, it was to a cacophony of jubilant shouts, cheering and cries of welcome. The refugees from Helms Deep had arrived barely half a day ahead of us along with Haldir's surviving soldiers as their escort. I was relieved to see Etain, Eothain and Freda were among those in the waving crowd as we headed up the hill to Meduseld. We might have returned road weary and exhausted, but at least we were buoyed in the knowledge that the people of Rohan were now safe again.

As soon as we stepped back inside the great hall Eowyn — who had also returned with the refugees and was preparing for the king's arrival — had taken one look at me in particular and immediately ordered a bath drawn in one of the guest rooms for me. I tried to argue that she shouldn't trouble the court staff, that they likely had better things to do. But Eowyn had wordlessly led me straight over to a mirror.

One look in it, and all arguments had instantly died on my tongue.

To be honest, I'd been too tired to argue anyway. The last time I'd had anything close to a proper bath — unpredicted dunks in rivers during midnight warg attacks notwithstanding — was days ago before Theodred's funeral. And even that had only been a quick scrub with some soap and a cloth over a cold wash basin.

What I had in front of me now, barely half an hour later, in the privacy of one of the guest rooms I'd been given, was a proper, steaming hot bath.

Hallelujah for Ilda and her giant copper cooking pots for heating water.

"I'll return with a spare gown a little later" Eowyn informed me, stepping into the room with a bundle under her arm just as the last maidservants left the room.

"Gown?" I asked, not really thinking about it.

"For the victory celebration this evening. You're very welcome to keep those leathers," she gestured to the loaned riding gear and torn shirt I was wearing with her free hand, "but I'd think you'd want them washed and repaired before wearing them again."

A good point. I knew I was filthy, but it only now occurred to me that I'd been wearing the same riding leathers since well before the march to Helms Deep several days ago. A lot had happened since then, most of it not cleanly. I must have smelled like a walking biohazard.

"Definitely," I agreed, giving her a sheepish smile. "Thank you, Eowyn."

She looked a bit surprised at first as if she'd expected me to still be chilly towards her after our last conversation in the Helm's Deep caverns. When she seemed to realise my gratitude was meant sincerely this time, she smiled at me with warmth.

"You are most welcome." She set a couple of towels down on a nearby chair along with a wide-tooth comb, some lavender-scented soap and a bottle of hair oil. "I'll return in about half an hour. If you need anything, call down the hall for one of the maidservants. They'll be happy to help you."

I thanked her again as she shut the door, leaving me to my privacy.

Desperate to finally be clean again, as soon as I was alone I didn't waste any time stripping down to my skin. It was harder than I'd anticipated thanks to the knots on my jerkin's laces being gunked up with mud and crusted Uruk-hai blood. Eventually, I got them undone and peeled off the rest until the only thing I was still wearing was the little vial of Galadriel's poison on its long chain. I dumped my poor blood-stained linen shirt, jerkin, and other riding leathers into a basket one of the laundresses had left, and set my medical satchels and knives on a side table to clean later. I did my best to give my limbs a cursory wipe down with a cloth from the room's wash basin — a somewhat futile effort to get most of the dried blood and dirt off first — before finally stepping into the wooden tub that had been set in the centre of the room.

The water was nearly scalding hot, but I didn't mind in the slightest, sinking down with a groan until the water was almost to my collarbone. For several minutes I just lay there bonelessly, my head resting on the edge, steam curling around my face, relishing the feeling of all my many aches and bruises being soothed.

I even felt a little flutter of appreciation coming from Tink, and I was glad to feel it.

She hadn't spoken at all since Saruman had fallen. Not once, and it had started to worry me.

"Tink," I whispered, both internal and aloud.

She didn't speak, but I felt her attention as if she'd looked up when I called.

'I'm… sorry,' I said, silently this time.

The secondhand bliss from the bathwater I'd felt shifted to confusion.

'Sorry? What for?'

'We didn't get answers. I know you were gunning for some this time,' I clarified, thinking back to her very vocal outburst at Saruman.

Tink was silent for several slow heartbeats. I couldn't pinpoint what emotion was coming off her now. There were too many, all tangled together.

'It's ok,' she said eventually, with far less feeling than I knew she was experiencing. 'We got more than I expected. More than I hoped for anyway. It's enough…' I felt her attention shift from me off in the direction I knew Gandalf was. 'For now at least.'

I shifted in the water, the steam forming little whorls across the surface.

'Tink.'

'Mmm?'

'You know you don't need to pretend you're alright when you're not, right? I can quite literally feel your emotions stronger now. Ever since Helms Deep,' I hesitated, quietly debating how far I should push this. 'Seeing Saruman die made you feel… something more than anger.'

Something of an understatement. I'd felt so many emotions coming off her that I'd been unable to process them all.

Another long pause to several slow heartbeats.

'Yes,' she answered softly.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

She didn't answer for an entire minute this time. I waited patiently in silence both inside and out until she was ready.

'I felt… grief,' She told me eventually. 'And I felt… I feel afraid.'

'Afraid?'

She hesitated again, but this time it felt like she was thinking rather than struggling. Instead of answering me with words I suddenly felt the gentle brush of her thoughts against mine. It was a similar sensation to when she'd asked to speak through me back at Isengard. Only rather than rising to the surface of my consciousness to request control, it felt more like she was drawing me down by the hand. Inviting me in to view her thoughts and memories the same way she had been able to see mine.

I'd never felt anything quite like it between us before. It felt alien and disquieting, like seeing the drop of a cliff underwater. Even so, although I was hesitant, I was equally conscious of how much she was extending her trust by allowing me in. So I forced myself to relax, tipping my head back, closing my eyes and allowing her to pour the memory from her perspective through my mind like it was one of my own.

As soon as I did, the dark shadow of my eyelids vanished and we were back at the foot of Orthanc again.

Saruman had just fallen, his body breaking against the stone steps of the tower. My face was still held against Legolas' shoulder, but as the shock of what had just happened wore off I turned my face to see.

And I saw what Tink had seen through my eyes.

Saruman's body, sprawled and broken on the black stone stairs, his limbs twisted and blood running down into the murky river water. His eyes were open and empty of the life that had been there moments before like a lighthouse gone suddenly dark.

As I watched through Tink's gaze, I saw the beginnings of pale grey whips of light, weak and feeble like fine mist gathering over the old man's corpse. They twisted together in the air, coalescing into the faint suggestion of a person's shape — a man hunched over the body he'd until recently inhabited.

The name Curumo rang through Tink's memory again as clear and bright as forge fire, though when she went to follow the thread of memory of how she knew the name, there was nothing but emptiness at the end. The disembodied Maia that had once been Saruman turned his spiritual face to look once to Gandalf, then to Tink, before turning his whole form in the direction of the West.

I felt the echos of a desperate sadness radiate off him through Tink's senses, a kind of longing that ran deeper than homesickness…

And in answer from whoever Curumo was silently pleading, a cold wind rushed through the grounds of Isengard from the West, dispersing the ghostly figure like mist under the morning sunlight.

Inexplicable, bone-deep sadness that somehow mixed stark mourning with crushing loneliness welled up in me at the sight, stronger and sharper than I'd ever been capable of feeling as a human or an elf. It tangled itself up inside me with the anger and the frustration we'd both been feeling earlier, amplifying them all. But at the same time, in amongst all those sensations, a new feeling I hadn't ever felt in Tink began to take root in her heart…

Fear.

True fear.

Not for me, or for the loss of knowledge we were so close to finding, but fear for herself. The kind of cold dread you feel when you know something terrible is going to happen, but you can't see it coming, and you know there is little you can do to escape it.

I pulled myself from the memory like surfacing from being underwater, opening my eyes and forcing myself to breathe. Even the mere memory of Tink's emotions experienced firsthand had felt impossibly strong. My heart was racing so hard that my chest ached.

'Eleanor?' Tink asked, sounding slightly panicked. 'Are you ok? Did I—?'

"I'm ok," I gasped out loud, taking a few more calming breaths, forcing my body to relax, remember where it was and that I wasn't in danger. 'I'm fine, Tink. Just… that felt… overwhelming.'

'It did.' She obviously sensed my next worried question before I could ask it. 'It doesn't feel as bad now. I'm alright, really.'

I took another minute to just breathe and let my heart rate return to normal again. As I did a detail stood out to me from what I'd witnessed.

'You knew Saruman's true name. The one he was known by as a Maia?' I said.

'Yes.'

'But you couldn't remember how you knew him.' I didn't even bother to make it a question.

'No, I couldn't.' She sounded frustrated, and I couldn't blame her. I pondered that fact, turning it over in my head along with every other little detail we'd managed to find out about her since I'd learned Tink's true name was Rávamë. There weren't many — save for what Legolas had been able to tell me back in Lothlórien — but enough to make at least some intuitive leaps.

'It makes sense if you think about it. You're both Maiar. You both resided in Aman at some point in the past. You must have known each other, even just in passing.'

She considered this.

'I suppose I must have, though it still doesn't explain what he meant by… the sin that earned me punishment.'

I felt a fresh simmer of dread well up as she spoke the last words. I knew the feeling. The missing parts of my memories were bad enough. But what made them worse sometimes was my imagination's ability to fill in the gaps with the worst possible scenarios. That said, it felt disingenuous to tell her not to be worried. Tink was a Maia, an angelic being of creation. What could she have done to earn judgment, and who would be in a position of high enough authority to even carry out any kind of punishment on her?

The memory of that sharp wind that swept Saruman's spiritual form away came back to me and felt a shiver of cold down my spine despite the bath water still steaming all around me.

'Tink,' I asked softly, almost too afraid to ask. 'What do you know of the Valar?'

This time her pause was so long I thought she was refusing to answer. Eventually, though, she answered with the careful tones of someone trying to avoid getting too close to something that would burn them.

'Everything you know, informationally anyway. They're the highest among the Ainur, offspring of Eru Iluvatar's thought. Seven Lords and seven Queens, serve as his regents and emissaries, shaping different aspects of the material world with their unified voices. According to your beau, I was once a vassal to... Yavanna,' something about the way she said the name sounded like she was speaking through a knot in her throat. 'I know everything logically. All the academic knowledge possible of them is there where it should be. But... when I try to follow that knowledge back to any memories… it hurts. It hurts so much, Eleanor. Something about thinking of them tears at me… I don't know why.'

She faltered, and I could suddenly feel the ache in her heart like it was my own.'I'm sorry. I can't…'

I shook my head.

'It's alright. Like you once said; there's a world of difference between knowing something here,' I brushed my fingers against my brow, 'and knowing something here.' I touched my fingers to my chest over my heart. 'And anyway, Gandalf did warn me that regaining some lost memories too soon might be painful. If doing the same is hurting you, we shouldn't rush.'

She was very quiet for a moment.

'Eleanor.'

'Yeah?'

'What if it's terrible. Whatever I did. Whatever it was that happened, what if I…'

She didn't finish. I wasn't sure she could.

She was afraid.

I could feel it on her heart like an icy hand, and I was suddenly so frustrated that there was no way for me to give her a real hug. Instead, I did the only thing I could and flooded myself with as much calm and gentle warmth as I could — the nearest I could do to taking her hand in mine.

'Whatever comes, whatever we learn, we'll face it together. I'll be here with you, just as you are for me,' I told her softly, and meaning every word.'Ok?'

I felt Tink's flicker of surprise, followed by a warm rush of gratitude aimed at me. The icy fear wasn't gone, and likely wouldn't be for a long while, but at least I could feel it had lessened its hold on her.

'Ok,' she smiled. 'And… thanks.'

A knock abruptly came at the door and I jumped enough to slosh a little of the bathwater over the lip of the tub.

"Eleanor, it's Eowyn," she called through the door without opening it. "I have a gown that should fit you and a shift to wear beneath. Shall I leave them outside?"

I told her she could, turning down her offer of assistance with dressing and telling her that I'd be out in another twenty minutes. The water was still warm, but I clearly hadn't noticed how much time had gone by during my and Tink's conversation.

Taking the lavender soap I'd been left with I got to work scrubbing my skin until it was clean of all the grime and the skin beneath was flushed. Washing my hair was what truly turned the water from misty to a murky grey. It took three rounds of lathering soap through my crispy locks and rinsing them out before the water finally ran clear (ish). Satisfied I was as clean as I was likely to get, I climbed out of the tub, pulled a towel around my body and set about getting dry again. The shift Eowyn had left was a bit long on me but was otherwise comfortable and unlikely to trip me up. The dress itself was a pretty wine colour with a wide boat neck, loose embroidered bell sleeves and laces up the sides to help adjust the waist. Once I was freshly clothed and my boots were back on I indulged just a brief moment of vanity and checked my reflection in the washstand mirror.

Now that all the dirt and blood was gone it was easier to take inventory of all the new bumps and bruises I'd acquired in the past few days. Dozens of small cuts from flying exploded stone from the Deeping Wall (already starting to heal), a few deep bruises from my time in the river (already gone from purple to yellow) and a bunch of scratched up my arm from where I'd squeezed through the doorway of the keep (nicely scabbed over).

But what I was a little surprised to find was a new spray of faint freckles dotting my nose and cheeks, as well as a sparse few across the tops of my shoulders. It had been mid-winter when the Fellowship had left Imladris, but we were heading solidly into spring now, and I'd been spending a lot more time in the sunshine running and riding cross-country than I had during my healer training. Something about seeing them made me feel a little homesick for summertime back on Earth, but I forced the feeling from my mind for later.

At last, I was clean and safe again, and it felt glorious — I didn't want to cut it short with lamenting.

And anyway, I had one more important task to complete before the distraction of the celebrations kicked off later that evening…

I smiled and left the guest quarters to go find Etain.

A/N: Now don't get me wrong, I have grown incredibly fond of the romance in this story (especially considering I originally went in deliberately not planning to have one). But one of my absolute favourite parts of writing RB is the ongoing camaraderie between Eleanor and Tink. That conversation they had this chapter came completely out of left field while I was working on it, which is largely why it has its own chapter now. I'm usually 100% a planner when it comes to writing, but occasionally there are times when characters I love most will just spontaneously write their own direction, and I'm so pleased with how this one turned out.

Until the next update and a long awaited party, much love,

Rella x