[Nuranar]

As the King stepped down, the chaotic hubbub rose once more. Lissi forcefully quelled the despair rising in her and turned to her sons. "Go find us a place to rest. Here, Brander, take this" - she handed him the bag she had brought. "Faerim, take care of them. I'm going to look for your father among the wounded. If--"

"You can't do that," Faerim interrupted. Concern was written all over his face. "You don't know - I'll go with you, or I'll just go, and--"

"Faerim." The tone was sharp and brooked no objection. "You need to look out for your brother and the lady. When you've had some rest, help the men wherever they need you. I need to find my husband. If he is not among the wounded, I will meet you by the main entrance to this hall shortly. If I do not return, I am with him, and will come to you when I can."

Faerim nodded and began to turn away, gently directing Renedwen and his brother. The woman seemed intelligent and aware, but the listless apathy in her face was alarming. Lissi had no intention of leaving her alone. Brander hesitated. His searching hand found Lissi's arm, then her shoulder. Then he enveloped his mother in a fierce hug, just for an instant, and turned and found Faerim. Lissi blinked, swallowed hard, and began shoving her way in the other direction, where she'd seen the wains go.

~ * ~ * ~

The infirmary was a series of small rooms, inadequately heated by braziers holding coals, but still warmer than the rest of the Hold. Lissi picked her way through the livid darkness, peering uncertainly for the face she knew, kneeling beside those she could not see, hoping that the face behind the blood might be Carthor's. A number of dim figures also stooped and rose, other women hoping against hope. The noise here was not the clamor of conversation; it was the low murmur of groans, cries, orders, and weeping.

With a sigh, Lissi rose again. She looked at the next man, then the next - then back to the first. Quickly she stepped across and looked into his unconscious face. It was he! Her heart was pounding so hard it frightened her; the tears that suddenly began flowing down her face were a relief.

A minute composed her, and she was busily looking him over for injuries. Someone had removed his helm and set it beside him; a large dent in it mutely testified as to the ugly bruise on his brow. There were large, painful-looking burns on his shoulders and neck, but it was the head wound that worried Lissi.

Remembering something seen on the way to the infirmary, she quickly left the infirmary. There he was - a bent old man tending a fire. And yes, there was water heating on it. Carefully Lissi filled a bowl and hurried back. The old man never looked up.

Lissi washed Cathor's burns with the hot water and bandaged them with long strips of linen torn from her smock. She knew she hurt him, for the man's face grimaced and he moaned, but never did his eyes open. Then she carefully cleaned the blood and dirt off his face and bathed the bruise on his head. Once she left to get more water. Silently she cared for him, sitting quietly by his side through the long dark hours.

Suddenly a hand - his hand - reached out and touched hers. Lissi jumped, and she gasped to see Carthor's piercing blue eyes fixed on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but her relief and gratitude were wordless.

Her husband smiled at her confusion and shushed her wordlessly. Then, rising carefully, he leant forward and gently kissed her. If Lissi had had any words before, this incomprehensible action would have obliterated them. She could not recall the last time her husband had kissed her. All she could do was stare, her mind reeling from the double shock.

"I thought I’d lost you," Carthor said gently. Oh, so gently! When had been the last time? "You and my boys." Wondering, Lissi saw the anxiety in his face grow. "Where are they? Are they safe? What of Brander?"

"They are quite safe," Lissi said, her voice trembling. She cleared her throat and pulled herself together, even trying to smile. "Those two are no braggarts, and looked after their mother well. They are both now helping the men prepare," she finished - no, one more thing. "The king has addressed us." And made clear his folly and our doom, she did not say. Carthor did not answer immediately, and Lissi's thoughts wandered back.

"We shall traverse the lands to the west and make haste to the Blue Mountains," the King had said. "There, the refuges of the Dwarves shall be home to us until we have recovered from this stinging blow." Does he not know that the mines have been deserted for a century? Is he that much a fool? "Food and supplies can be found there, and metals in those mines to forge new weapons that shall replace our splintered blades. Shields will be remade, spears sharpened, armor wrought, and victory regained in time." There is nothing there - no food, no fuel, no supplies. Victory with a hundred swords, against Angmar! There is nothing but death. Why does he lead us there? Why?

Lissi's thoughts, wandering in sad circles, were interrupted as Carthor sighed wearily. He looked around once more, then laid his head in her lap as if it was the most natural thing to do. Lissi's eyes filled with tears. She kissed his forehead and watched him sleep.