[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn stumbled into her room, frightened tears staining her cheeks. Gudryn and Ayeth followed swiftly. With a light knock, they opened her door, calling softly, to find Saeryn seated on the floor in the corner, arms wrapped bracingly around her knees. Her face was the color of milk. The girl stared past them, lost in a distant memory.

"Saeryn..." Ayeth knelt beside her, touching her hand lightly. Saeryn started back to reality, glancing at the girls.

"I... where is he?" she asked weakly.

"The young man is with our protecters... with your friends. Mistress Bethberry bids you to worry not... you need not see him and if you should desire too, you have her guardianship."

Saeryn went silent, her breath a mere whisper in the air. She glanced toward the door. "Will you stand beside me?"

"You need not even ask."

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Put in his place, although gently, Dégas looked humbly at the Innkeeper. "Mistress, I offer the most profound--"

Eodwine butted in with a grin. "Profundity is not the way to go lad... speak politely, but in real terms that real people would use. You've been amongst the self-important for too long."

His pride damaged slightly, Dégas bowed a little to Eodwine. "Sirs, ladies... Mistress Innkeeper. I am sorry. I was... I acted the fool. I beg your pardon..."

Bethberry smiled. "Now that was not so hard. Would you like a drink lad, and we can sort this mess out a bit?"

"Aye, but nothing stronger than some hot cider, if you have it."

"Now what sort of Inn would we be with no hot cider?" Bethberry sent Maercwen to the kitchen with a discreet tip of her head and a wink. Taking the young man by the elbow, with a surprised look from him, Bethberry led him to a table and sat him down. Placing herself across from him, she paused for a moment before asking gently, "Now lad, what business so brings you to The White Horse, and why, if twin she be, did the lady Saeryn run as though seeing a ghost?"

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Standing firmly, Saeryn walked slowly to her door. Gudryn and Ayeth followed, sharing a look. With almost forced movement, Saeryn opened the door and stepped back into the hall. Glancing back, she walked, head high, down the hallway and to the Great Hall from whence she came.

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Dégas felt younger than he had in years. In all his time in King Aragorn's Court, he had never felt smaller and more inexperienced. He glanced across the table into the Innkeeper's eyes, finding there pity and understanding. Finding the courage to speak, he answered truthfully. "Mistress, I cannot tell you what business brings me here, for to learn of it from one other than myself, I think would cause great harm to my sister. Why she should run... I can guess only that she thought I have come to bring her home." Feeling the presence of the twins behind him, Dégas pointedly ignored them. Falco, seeing the situation quite competently managed, hurrumphed in his best manner, returning his full attention to his food and pipe.

"And why, young sir," It was here that Maercwen returned with the cider, pressing it gently into Dégas' hands. He received it with a smile and a whispered thank you. "And why would the lady fear returning home?"

"That is a story for her to tell, if she will. I will not reveal it, if she has not." Dégas sipped his drink, savouring the rich flavour. "I do not know that she fears the return, so much as hates the very thought. She has so much freedom here, as I have..." he paused, glancing at each face. "As I have noticed."

"And why lad, should we harbor you here, when you made every effort to get your way perforce, rather than simply speaking as a civilized man, as you are now doing?"

"Why indeed." Falco grunted.

Dégas looked down into his well-dressed lap, feeling, at this moment, worse than ever. "Mistress... I came here as a hot-headed lordling, full of praise, but, as I think on it, probably deserving of little of it. I shall take you, dear lady, as you are to me, if you will forget my ill-thought actions and take me for me. I come but to see my sister, and I heeded little else in that search. I am sorry." Bethberry, seeing now the soft-spoken cheerful lad that had entered the Inn, relented. "If she consents--" She broke off, glancing to the door. There stood Saeryn, bearing herself differently than she had before. She seemed to have grown as Dégas had become smaller. Filling the door, the girl paused before proudly and calmly walking forward.

Dégas looked up from his seat, rising to meet his twin. She stopped a horse's length away, looking her brother top to toe before meeting his eyes. "Dégas, why do you come here?"

Glancing, respectfully now, at the group men around him, and the two young women flanking Saeryn, Dégas bowed yet again. "Sister dear, perhaps a private word..." He allowed the question to hang in the air.

"Whatever word you choose to speak, you may say it in front of my friends and protectors. I have known them scarce long, but hold them each in high esteem and with much affection. They shall know what you have come to say."

"Saeryn..." his eyes begged. "Saeryn, Caeli is dead. I had word from the north. She was taken on the road by a band of outlaws. You know her mind as well as I... the fight ended swiftly, with her bested. Word tells that she repaid her own loss greatly before she fell." A silent tear slid down his cheek. Silence filled the air and Saeryn processed the knowledge that her only sister was dead. Her family, scattered before, was dying almost before her eyes. Saeryn's composure broke. She ran to her twin, arms and heart outstretched, and they embraced. Quiet tears stained her cheeks as the other members of the group tried tactfully to pretend they were not there, aware of their intrusion upon this private moment of grief.