[Estelyn Telcontar]

Annawyn lifted her head upon hearing the knock on the door. Not that she was fearful after the onset of darkness, nor was it unusual for someone to come to her under the cover of night, but this was a knock that she recognized, though it had been long since she had last heard it. She opened the door with a welcoming smile, eyes widening slightly as she saw a second figure in the shadows behind a familiar face.

She lifted one eyebrow inquiringly at Haleg, who answered the unspoken question tersely: “A friend who needs your help.”

Peering into the blackness behind them as if to reassure herself that no one observed them, she let the men in. After closing and latching the door, she turned to the stranger and said, “Welcome! Pray be seated; you shall tell me shortly what it is that I can do for you, but first I must greet this young rapscallion who visits me only when he is in some difficulty.”

She clasped Haleg’s elbows, holding him at arm’s length and gazing attentively into his face. He held her gaze somewhat stubbornly, and Halasan, observing them, could not help thinking that this burly warrior suddenly looked like a puppy, caught in some minor misdemeanour, yet certain of indulgence rather than punishment.

Apparently satisfied with what she saw, or perhaps with what she did not see, she embraced him briefly, wrinkling her nose at the smell of his travel-stained garments. “Whatever it is that you need, a bath and fresh clothing would certainly do you good,” she remonstrated gently.

For the first time since the tragedy which had torn his life asunder, Halasan felt himself smiling. This woman, looking almost frail beside the sturdy axeman, reminded him strongly of an aunt, stern yet affectionate, who had radiated that same air of authority when he had visited her in his youth.

“Well, you seem none the worse for the wear,” Annawyn said to Haleg, “though it seems that some of those scars you have are unfamiliar to me. Pray introduce your friend, that I may see how my help is needed.”

Gruffly, as if to cover a moment of weakness, he told her Halasan’s name and began to relate his story when she interrupted, “He shall tell me that himself. But first let me see the wound.”

Carefully drawing the torn garment back, she inspected the cut, nodding approvingly when she saw the stitches. “You sewed it?” she asked Haleg. “You have done well.”

“You taught me well,” he answered.

“It will heal,” she said to Halasan reassuringly. “But it does not seem to be the worst wound that you bear – tell me what happened.”

Haltingly, the story of trust, betrayal, death and loss poured from his lips, hesitantly at first, then tumbling as a waterfall. Annawyn listened attentively without interrupting, only nodding encouragingly when he faltered.

“You say your friend was seen coming this way, taking your daughter with him,” she commented when he had finished. Her brow furrowed slightly. “I remember seeing a couple, strangers here, at the White Horse when I was there several days ago. He looked to be somewhat younger than you, though no longer youthful. She was a young maiden, beautiful and wilful, and it did not seem that she was with him unwillingly. They were distressed, arguing much, yet obviously lovers. Could that be your daughter and friend?”

“The description fits, but how can it be that she went with him of her own free will?” he said, bewildered.

“It would not be the first time that a young maiden, adventurous and impressionable, looks to a man who promises her an escape from a life that seems boring and tedious to her,” she answered, growing thoughtful as if remembering a far past. “I will make inquiries and attempt to find out if their whereabouts are known. Come to my shop in the morning to procure the clothing that you need; by then, I should have some information for you.”

Annawyn went to the door, opening it quietly, listening and looking before letting them out. “You will come with him,” she said to Haleg. It was a statement, not a question, and he did not gainsay her.

They walked back to the White Horse together; when they had reached the inn, Halasan asked, “Who is she, and how come you to know her well? She seems to be more than a simple seamstress.”

“She is an excellent seamstress, the best in Edoras,” Haleg answered, “but she is more than that, yes. She has travelled in the past and has contacts far beyond the boundaries of this land. How I came to know her? Well…” and he told the story of a young boy, orphaned, homeless and almost famished, chancing to come to that very door, taken in by a young woman, nursed back to health, protected and provided with a new home when it became clear that he could not stay there. Long they talked before finally retiring to their rooms for sleep.