[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

Kaldir listened quietly as Amandur spoke long and seriously of Dúlrain, events following Raven Falls, and Amandur's own role in things. Most of it Kaldir had heard before or pieced together from earlier conversations, but the part that he hadn't heard, that touched him most deeply, was the bit about Dúlrain's feelings of guilt. He had not known that the old loyalties still ran so deeply within the younger Ranger.

"Perhaps I have been harsh," he murmured to himself, remembering how consumed he had been with his own anger. Part of that anger had been rooted in his damaged memory and the inability to recall many faces and large portions of his life prior to his release from Mordor, but the rest of it, he knew quite well was purely temper. He had been furious at being left behind, and that anger was a large part of what had kept him going, had kept him alive through his years of darkness and torment. Over those years, he had learned to use his anger as both a weapon and a shield. Now that same anger would be a difficult thing to put away from himself, a very difficult thing, but Benia Nightshade and Mrs. Banks had already helped him to begin the process. He could do it, especially if he were accepted back by the Rangers and would no longer have to rely solely upon himself.

Kaldir felt greatly enouraged in that direction by Amandur's words and demeanor, but the older Ranger was correct in that there would doubtless be certain individuals among the other Rangers who would never trust or accept him. It was unfortunate, but not a situation that Kaldir found particularly alarming. As long as those individuals did not try to interfere with him, he believed that he would be able to co-exist with them. On the other hand, if they chose to make trouble for him, they would have a wolf of their own making to contend with. He had very little patience with those who would trip him up out of nothing but prejudice or irrational malice. By the same token, if they left him alone, he was confident that he could prove his worth. He smiled cautiously as Amandur clapped his good shoulder.

"I do hope you choose to return to us, my friend," Amandur concluded with a weary smile. "But one more question I have to ask. What of Naiore?"

"Naiore," echoed Kaldir. His expression darkened visibly at the mention of the Ravenner's name. He rose from the chair he had taken at Amandur's invitation and walked to the far side of the small chamber. The image of her standing on the rock just outside the very walls of Imladris, her inky leathers stained with blood, rose up starkly in his mind. Just as abruptly as it had appeared, the image began to melt and bleed into a different one, one of Naiore in another, darker place, smiling serenely and clad in the finest of silks. He remembered gut-wrenching pain. Fire. The lash of whips. He lowered his head, fighting to push the memories away. Then, very deliberately, he reached up and struck his wounded shoulder sharply with his fist. The jolt of pain that followed cleared his head. After a moment of silence during which he waited for the real, actual pain to subside, Kaldir turned once more toward Amandur, his face pale but determined.

"Naiore must be killed," he answered bluntly. "Whether it be by my hand or that of another, I care not. I trailed her this far with the intention of doing the deed myself, the king's justice be damned." He paused, his pale blue eyes meeting Amandur's gray ones directly. "But I wonder now if I am up to the task."

When Amandur did not reply immediately, he continued gruffly. "Something happened on the battlefield to remind me that perhaps I am not the best man for the job after all. The Ravenner can smell weakness like a jackal." Without thinking, he raised a hand to touch the battered side of his face. "The damage that was done to me in Mordor was considerable. Not all of the scars are visible to the eye and, even now, not all of the wounds have healed. I found that I was more vulnerable to her presence than I would have thought."

"With that in mind, I think the wiser course would be to throw my sword in with you - if you will allow it - than to continue hunting her on my own."

Amandur nodded. "That would be acceptable to me, but I must warn you that our intention is to bring her to face trial in Gondor, not to kill her."

"The Valar help you, then," Kaldir answered calmly. "She will find a way to free herself and she will kill you in your sleep. Do not underestimate her."

"We won't," said Amandur gravely. Kaldir thought he intended to say more, but at that instant the door opened and they were joined by a pair of Elven healers. Amandur communicated to him with a glance that they would continue their discussion at a later time, then he rose to greet the healers.

Hours later, after the healers had treated his and Amandur's injuries and the two of them had parted company, Kaldir found himself back in the Hall of Healing. It was well past sundown. He had gone there to look in on Dúlrain, and perhaps have a quick word with him if he was awake, but upon finding the right room, Kaldir went no further than the doorway. Looking in, he saw Dúlrain lying asleep in the bed. His color was much better than it had been when Kaldir had parted company with him at the edge of the battle field and his breathing was good. Kaldir was relieved to note as much, but it was the sight of Benia that made him stop in his tracks. She sat in a chair beside the bed, her long, raven hair flowing loosely down her back, the candlelight shining off the silver of her jewelry. She sat perfectly motionless, her slender fingers intertwined with those of the sleeping man, her gemlike eyes never leaving his face. Watching them together, Kaldir suddenly felt like an intruder. Turning, he left as silently as he had arrived.

"She belongs with him..." he murmured, replaying the little tableau over and over in his mind. How could that be? She and Dúlrain barely knew each other. Remembering the way she looked at Dúlrain, Kaldir felt a sharp stab of jealousy. She should have been his. He had not carried her with him halfway across Middle Earth just to deliver her into the arms of another man. He scowled fiercely at the thought of doing such a thing, but, even so, he still wavered. Amandur's words of earlier in the day still haunted him.

According to Amandur, Dúlrain had never deserted him. If that was true, then all of the self-righteous anger that Kaldir had been using as a wedge to drive his childhood friend, his brother, away from him was false. If Dúlrain had never betrayed him, then what right had he, Kaldir, to try to take Benia? Aside from his own love for the desert woman, he had no right to her, no claim. In fact, by all that was right, she belonged with Dúlrain. Yet Kaldir knew he could not let go of her. Not yet.

With these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, Kaldir returned to his room, feeling irritated and torn in his heart. Unable to find comfort in the softness of the room's feather bed, he lay instead on the floor, on the rug in front of the fire. When sleep finally came to him, it was fitful and thin.