The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly

Gilly sat back gazing at Toby, wondering if she should give him another draught from Léspheria’s phial. The poor soul did look a good deal better than he had just a short while ago, but how Gilly wished that his eyes would open again, and he would speak. It was such a brave thing that he had done to free Benia from that horrid man’s grip. Quite frankly, she had not expected him to take the risk. And though she was glad of his courage, she found herself quite anxious that he should be none the worse for it.

Thinking now that it was quite possible that a teaspoon might not have been a large enough dose, but still reluctant to give more lest it be too much, she racked her brain for anything else she could do. Perhaps a dab of the medicine on the wound itself would help speed the healing. Surely there wouldn’t be any harm in it. Moving closer Gilly gingerly unwound the bandages that she had applied just a few moments before. The bleeding had slowed considerably, but still the gash glistened with fresh blood. She nervously fumbled with the phial unstopping it, and after pouring a liberal amount of the elixir on the bandage; she set down the medicine and replaced the cloth, pressing it firmly over the wound.

The effect was immediate. Toby’s face quickly contracted into a grimace, as his other arm swung around catching Gilly rather tightly. “Eh there now!” he said, struggling to open his eyes. “Are you trying to finish me off then?”

“Oh, goodness, not in the least!” she answered. “But this hurt to your shoulder is a nasty one. I was just trying to fix it up.”

“Ah, I remember it only too well. I thought that it was the end of old Longholes! But what has happened?” he said craning his neck to look around. “Where are Dúlrain and Miss Nightshade? Why can’t I see them?” He sounded worried as he tried to sit up.

Gilly, gently aided him, a bit troubled herself. Realizing that the reverberating ring of weapons no longer echoed over the plain, it was too quiet for her to feel settled. “The both of them were up over that bluff a moment ago,” she whispered, frowning as she looked to the top of the hollow. “But I do not know exactly how it is going for them.”

“Then Ferny…” Toby began.

“Dúlrain had him quite occupied when Miss Benia and I brought you down here. But now that I see that you are all right, I really ought to get back. They may need my help.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toby said, holding his limp arm to his chest with the other.

“No, Mister Longholes, I appreciate it, but you should stay here. If that Ferny fellow is up there, it be best he not see your face peaking over the hill,” she cautioned. “I’ll just sneak a look then, and tell you what I find.” Getting to her feet she climbed slowly to the rim as Toby watched. There, standing on her toes, she peered cautiously over the tall grass. As the warm sun broke through the retreating clouds, she was overjoyed to see Dúlrain speaking to Miss Benia, the wind from off the mountains pulling at the couple before finding its way down the gentle slope toward the hobbit. They seemed deep in conversation but Gilly could not hear much of what was said, try though she might. “Ah there’s a pleasant sight, if I do say so myself,” she finally concluded with a sigh.

Hurrying back down to where Toby sat sneezing painfully in the bottom of the hollow, “All’s very well!” she announced with a smile. “Ferny’s not to be seen, or Naiore, or any other stranger for that matter! Let’s get that arm bound and give the shoulder a rest, so that you can see for yourself, if you’d like.” Toby nodded, sniffing.

After she had secured Toby’s arm tightly to his chest, relieving the pressure on his shoulder, she helped him to stand. He swayed a bit, and Gilly began to wonder if it was the medicine or rather sheer will that helped the hobbit stand up after such an ordeal. “Perhaps this isn't the right time to try. You’re a bit giddy yet,” she said gently.

“No, no! I’m alright, and would rather not sit any longer hidden in this dank shadow.” But Gilly seeing him still unsteady, took his free arm and wrapped it around her neck, propping him up.

“Lean on me,” she said. And together they started up the hill. “We will be there in a twinkling, and you can rest again in the sunshine if Dúlrain and Miss Benia will let us dry out a bit,” but in her heart she wondered what they were to do, now that Toby was injured and no longer able to keep pace with the ranger.

[Ealasaide]

Nerindel's Post - Dúlrain

Benia’s gentle words awakened the truth that lay buried beneath the jaded cloud of hatred and vengeance which seethingly encroached Dúlrain’s heart and mind, darkening the depths and reasoning of his brother sacrifice. Not only had Kaldir given himself to save Benia he had succeeded in defying the elf witch her hold in the end. Dulrain’s eyes closed as he remembered the hesitation of his brother, the hesitation that had allowed Kaldir to die a free man. Never could his brother have lived with the guilt of Rauthain’s blood on his hands so he had chosen death, freely and willingly accepting that only in death would he truly be free. The sudden reality and clarity of his brother’s choice hit him instantly dissipating the dark cloud that threatened to bury him.

“I shall honour and protect all that you held dear in this life.” his own words came back to him then. Looking upon the face of the gentle woman before him, he dropped to one knee and gently caressed her delicate cheek with his hand, she looked up her eyes glistened like crystals, gently he wiped away an escaping tear.

“You are right; I do Kaldir no honour in pursuing this tormentor of souls, but know this Benia he died finally free of her grasp. In this knowledge I can now honour him, up holding the values we once held dear and promising to live my life in honour of his sacrifice.” he smiled reassuringly and Benia fell into his arms. “You do not know how glad it makes my heart to hear you say those words.” She whispered through gladdened tears.

Pulling her back slightly Dúlrain looked deep into her amber eyes if he was to fore fill this promise there was one thing he first must do he must tell this angel this vision sent from Eru how he really felt about her!

“Before your beauty words fail me, my breath grows short and my heart feels weak, but I would live to follow and protect you, if this honour you permit me! You are the light in my darkest night and my shade from the brightest day, though you must think me crazy do not dismiss me, for to me you are my one and only. You fill my life completely and finally we can be together! I can be for you all that you want or need as I always should have and always will be… I love you Benia Nightshade, I always have.” And with that he kissed her deeply and held her in his loving embrace.

[Ealasaide]

Ealasaide's Post - Benia

Closing her eyes, Benia let herself melt into the warmth of Dúlrain’s embrace, wishing deep in her heart that she could remain suspended forever in that instant of total and near flawless joy. He loved her. For that one fleeting instant, nothing else mattered. All of the pain and fear and heartache of the previous several weeks vanished like rain clouds after a storm, leaving the world a place of fresh and sparkling beauty, a place where a future was possible. She returned his embrace and his kiss with all of the intense love and longing she had kept hidden for so long. Finally, she drew back, touching his face with her fingertips.

“Crazy?” she echoed, a gentle smile floating at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps, but you have no idea how much I longed to hear those very words. I have loved you since the moment our eyes first met - do you remember? When you lifted my veil back on that dusty side street in Bree. I knew then that you were the one for me. I could think of nothing but how or if we might meet again.”

“I, too, was haunted by the image of your face.” He bent forward and kissed her forehead. “You have no idea how startled I was to find such a lovely creature hidden beneath all of that drapery. Of course, Kaldir was passing you off as his wife at the time. I believed him and, as such, was forced to deny my feelings for you completely, believing that you would remain forever beyond the reach of my heart or even of my hope.”

“Kaldir,” Benia whispered, thinking again of the scarred face and scarred soul of her one-time abductor. “Did you know that he asked me to become his wife?”

“Yes, Gilly told me.”

“He said that since coming to know me, he had begun to wish to be a better man again. All I did was lead him to his death.”

“No.” Dúlrain shook his head. Lifting Benia along with him, he rose to his feet. “It was that evil elf who led him to his death. She used you. You must not blame yourself.” He looked over in the direction of Ferny, Naiore’s deceased henchman, a bitterness passing fleetly over his features. “I was as much to blame as you were in that, anyway. I should have spoken for you the moment I awoke and found you still at my bedside, but I will rectify that now.” With a look of firm resolution, he turned to face Benia again and took her hands in his. “Since I know of no one to ask for your hand,” he said, looking tenderly into her shining amber eyes. “Your father being dead and your family far distant and scattered, I shall ask it of you directly. May I have your hand in marriage?”

“Yes!” Benia answered instantly, without even a second’s hesitation. “Oh, yes, a thousand times, yes.”

They kissed again, but were soon interrupted by the soft sound of coughing off to one side. They parted to discover that Gilly had joined them and stood waiting a polite distance away, coughing theatrically into her pocket handkerchief. A very wan and pale Toby Longholes leaned on her arm. Seeing that her presence had been noticed, Gilly blushed slightly and crammed the handkerchief back into the pocket of her pinafore. For a brief instant, Benia’s sparkling eyes flew back and forth from one hobbit’s face to the other, as if uncertain which to address first. Finally, she spoke.

“Toby!” she exclaimed in delight. “You’re walking!”

“Yes,” answered the hobbit. “It would seem so. I was just saying to Mrs. Banks that I had thought this was going to be the end of me. Happy to say, it’s not!”

“Happy indeed!” said Dúlrain, smiling as well. “Judging by what Benia had told me, I figured you for the very brink of death‘s door. That was a nasty blow. But, seeing as all’s well,” he added with an affectionate glance at Benia, “ we have some happy news of our own.”

“We’re going to be married,” Benia explained, looking quickly toward Gilly for her approval.

*********************************

Hilde's Post - Gilly

“Married?” Gilly asked blinking at the two who stood before her. “Married! Why that is the most promising news I’ve heard in - well, in quite a long while, no doubt about it! It is high time you had someone to watch over you Miss Benia. And you’ve no idea how happy I am that you have chosen this fine man here!” After thinking a moment the hobbit added, “No mistaking, you had me worried there, Mr. Dúlrain. I didn’t know what I’d find when I got ‘round to climbing out of that hollow. But here you are arm in arm, and I see you got the upper hand on that rare scoundrel Ferny. Just where is the brute?” she said asked looking rapidly around her. “You don’t suppose he’s gone to join Naiore again?” Her eyes grew wide with the thought. “We certainly don’t need those two sneaking around us now do we?”

Squinting around and about Toby also searched for signs of his fellow Breelander, and finding what he sought, an expression of disgust twisted his sharp features. “Not to worry Mrs. Banks, a rather definite end seems to have come to that particular problem. I’ll warrant old Barrold won’t be troubling us anymore,” he said to calmly reassure Gilly as her friend and Dúlrain joined them. Gilly bit her lip to see the grim sight and she felt Toby’s hand slide off her shoulder to cradle his arm as he bowed in gratitude. “I am greatly indebted to you Dúlrain, both for your aid as well as your thoroughness. You’ve made more than these ladies glad with Barrold Ferny’s passing, there are many in Bree who would thank you if they only knew of it.”

“Then they should thank you as well, and I am happy to have been of service, but I admit he left me little choice but to oblige you,” the ranger murmured quietly, studying the line of the hobbit’s neck and shoulder. Noticing the look of concern in the ranger’s eyes, Gilly yielded her position. Dúlrain, reluctantly releasing Benia’s hand, took up Toby’s forearm, supporting it at the joint. With a firm touch he ran his fingers over the hobbit’s injured shoulder. “I see that not all is as well as it would first appear. You’ve a bone that has been wrenched awry. I can try to pull it in line again, but it is not sure to stay, and unfortunately can not be done without pain.”

“Ah, that would be why I feel I’m still on the spit,” the hobbit growled. And looking to the pale blue sky he sighed deeply, “I see a buzzard has already found our little crew, and I wager he is eyeing this sorry hobbit thinking to himself that he and his friends may just have room for dessert after their feast, eh? Go ahead sir, and do what must be done, I’ve a mind to deprive that glutton!”

“Hush, don’t speak of such things!” Gilly piped up following Toby’s gaze. “You are not by any stretch a ‘sorry hobbit’ and even if you were, you are not going to die so long as we are here. It is a small thing, only a bone now.”

“I know Mrs. Banks, but just tell that to him!” Toby scowled, waving his good arm as though he would frighten the bird away. “And though, as you say, it is a small bone it is not so very small to me. My livelihood has been in the skill of my hands as much as my wits, so to speak.”

“But my husband is always looking for reliable help, and he’s a good person too. He’ll not let you starve,” Gilly said.

“Now that your future seems less uncertain, let us get you out of the sun,” Benia suggested. “Rest a little while in the shade so that Dúlrain might work on your shoulder without the distraction of a hungry shadow passing overhead.”

But as Benia and Dúlrain helped Toby to the grove of trees, Gilly grew restless wondering how long it might be before she might see her family again, and she wandered away. And she could not figure how they would continue on trailing Naiore with the injured Breelander and no pony to set him on. Idly picking up a few small stones she threw them at the circling bird, considering the options. Yes, she would be willing now to stay behind with Longholes if it came down to that, and together they could try to find their way back to Rivendell and from there the Shire. But what would Benia do with Dúlrain on this chase? If only she would wish to accompany them as far as the elven refuge. That was Gilly’s hope, but how could she ask her good friend to leave Dúlrain, even for her own safety? Suddenly a chill came over her heart as she wondered if they both would even live to return when. So many had perished since they had set out along the way.

As if summoned, Benia appeared at her side with folded arms, and though the day had grown warm, Gilly noticed her friend shiver as she looked over the trampled and crimsoned grass. “I will be glad to leave this place,” she confided. Gilly nodded, curious what course Benia would take when they did leave, and whether she and Toby would be left alone to camp beside the dead man’s corpse.

“I think that we must do something about this,” Gilly said, for even Kaldir had covered the dead orcs with stones, after they had been attacked in the Lonelands. Should they not do the same? “He will smell far worse now that he is dead.”

“Even the foulest of men deserve some sort of burial,” Benia agreed. “In the land of my youth we would burn this body.”

“And right you should too,” Gilly said earnestly. “Such a vile man would make even the carrion fowl sick!”

“Then we should tell Toby he need not worry,” the southern woman said, a faint smile rising to her lips before vanishing suddenly, as her eyes rested again on Ferny. “Shall we gather the wood? I would be thankful to keep busy as long as we are here.”

Walking together to the copse, Benia and Gilly set about gathering fuel for a fire as Dúlrain unwound Toby’s bandage. Glancing up at Benia, Dúlrain asked with surprise why they gathered wood; for he had not planned that they camp here, but thought to continue, leaving the open plain as soon as possible.

“It is not for us,” Benia said, meeting his gaze, “but we thought to burn the body, so that the dead man might embrace his doom.”

Seeing that the ranger was weighing this, Gilly asked Benia to wait for her. Picking up her skirts, the hobbit hurried again to Toby’s side. “Please let us do this Mr. Dúlrain,” she whispered so that the southern woman would not hear. “I think Miss Benia would feel more settled knowing as Ferny’s really gone for good, she’s been through so much you know. And I’d not complain for a short delay, I should think that Mr. Longholes wouldn’t have objections either, seeing his condition.” Gilly was hoping for Toby’s backing, but the hobbit sat back offering no opinion on the matter, and simply watched ranger’s expression.

After making a few more half-reasoned arguments, Gilly managed to persuade him. “Do as you both see fit, Mrs. Banks,” Dúlrain said. “But once the fire is lit we must leave immediately, for the column of smoke will be seen at a great distance,” Gilly frowned hearing this. Her plan to make time for Toby to rest had not worked as well as she had hoped, and she hadn’t considered that the Ravenor or her orcs might see the smoke from their fire. At the present it all seemed so far removed from her now. Those dangers were in the past, and should not return to spoil their respite. Dúlrain called to Benia, “The wood is wet and won’t catch easily. If you both can wait awhile longer, I will tend the body for you.”

“No we will manage this Dúlrain, you are doing far better work seeing to the living,” the southern woman answered gently, gracefully stepping further in among the young trees.

Gilly, still rattled to learn the ranger meant to leave so quickly, reminded herself that this good man would not ask more of Toby than he thought the hobbit could endure. And reluctantly putting aside her plan to dawdle, she asked Dúlrain if she might use his flint and steel. “No doubt Miss Benia knows a thing or two of lighting a fire, wet or no!” she informed him rather proudly. And encouraged to see the man’s gray eyes sparkle at the confidence she had in her dear friend’s skill, she winked at him, “She’d be the one to make you a nice pot of tea on those rainy days when your bones have grown old and tired! Plenty of practice at that, you know. Just as you yourself have had!” Taking the flint he offered, she patted his hand and smiled before starting off to find Benia.

Stumbling over a grubby pack lying abandoned at the side of the grove, the hobbit hoisted the greasy thing up. “What should be done with this?” she called back.

“It belonged to Ferny,” she heard Benia call behind her, “We can place in the fire once it is going.” Dúlrain nodded in agreement, but Toby spoke up straight away.

“Not so quick! There is sommat in that bag there, that don’t rightly belong to Ferny, nor the fire - though Ferny’d argue the point, if he could. I suppose you could say they’re ‘ill-gotten gains’, but I imagine you might be interested in them all the same.”

Gilly set the bag down, untying the flap and drawing it wide open to rummage through its contents. “I don’t see anything worth mentioning, Mr. Longholes,” she declared. “Not so much as fresh linen or comb! Only the very simple or the strange: a well used whet stone, and a fishing hook and some books with carved covers - I can’t think he used them much – see they have no pages!” she said pulling one out. Blackened and smeared with ashes, she set the burnt binding on the ground, and wiping her hand on her skirt. It was no bigger than a man’s hand.

Toby’s smiled, “Ah, there we have it, Mrs. Banks. Only the books binding they are now, for they have tasted fire once before, when Naiore set ‘em ablaze. But the covers now, they didn’t burn did they? And Ferny was right quick in fishing them out once the Ravenor was done with them. I’ve not much good to say about Barrold Ferny, but he had a sharp eye for profit. Maybe you should let our ranger friend here have a look at them.”

Gilly brought the cover and the pack holding the second one to Dúlrain who looked at them with interest, rubbing the corner of the binding until it shone brightly. “Silver!” Gilly said peering over his shoulder. “You were right, but they can’t be so valuable, they’re not heavy at all.”

“Oh but they are, this is elven work and mithril by the look of them,” Dúlrain said. “I wonder what it was that caused Naiore to burn something so rare. Perhaps those in Imladris would remember what had been set down in these exquisite volumes, for they were no ordinary books.”

“And to think I would have pitched them in the fire, knowing so little of such things! Is they’re anything else that shouldn’t be lost?” Gilly asked, handing the bag to the ranger.

After a quick look, Dúlrain set it down, “No,” he answered. “There is nothing else.”

“Not even a few coins?” Toby asked in amazement.

“Yes, there are coins, but we’re not here for spoils.” Dúlrain said. “The covers are a different matter, and may help those who would stop Naiore should she elude them. We will not be keeping them.”

Gilly saw that Toby looked a bit crest fallen, working to resign himself to the fact that what Ferny had owed him was now to be an irretrievable loss. “Those books certainly didn’t seem to bring about good for their owners, now did they?” she mused aloud. “First stolen I suppose, and then Barrold passed too. Let’s hope they bring Naiore similar bad fortune.”

“Mrs. Banks, you’re making me think I dare not touch them!” Toby said sullenly.

“Not to worry since you don't own them! But I must go help Miss Benia, and you must grit your teeth and let Dúlrain try to fix you up, so he and Miss Benia won’t leave us behind.”

“Leave you behind?” the ranger echoed. “Even if I have to carry you half of the way, I would not depart without my stalwart companions.”

“But you are in such a hurry,” Gilly said. “We will slow you down now more than before.”

“Yes, I am in a hurry, “Dúlrain smiled to himself as he returned his attention to Toby’s shoulder, “But not the same sort. I no longer intend to pursue Naiore now that Benia is free, and will not now willingly lead us within the elf’s reach.”

Overjoyed by this revelation, a weight of worry was lifted from Gilly’s slight shoulders. “Does Miss Benia know this?”

“Indeed she does,” the ranger said as he gently pulled the injured hobbit’s arm. “I believe that she is the only one who could have shown me so well that I need not continue.”

Toby flinched with pain, grimacing as the ranger worked swiftly on his shoulder, easing the bone back in place before the hobbit had second thoughts. But Toby clearly had had enough for the moment, and muttered that he wished that he could convince Dúlrain that he need not continue this pulling. But when the ranger asked if he had changed his mind, Toby only requested a brief interval in which to ‘steel himself’ once more. “The worst is over. I have only to bind your arm to keep the weight from your shoulder,” Dúlrain reassured him, before turning to Gilly, who was hovering around them. “With Master Longholes injuries, I think it would be far better for us to see him back to Imladris, don’t you?” he asked her.

“Oh most assuredly Mr. Dúlrain!” Gilly said smiling at Toby who suddenly brightened, not only because Dúlrain had stopped tugging, but apparently as happy as she, to learn of their new course. “If you will excuse me then…,” she said as Dúlrain, began sorting through Toby’s ragged bandages. “I’ll not hang about here letting Miss Benia do all the work when I have said I’d do otherwise.” As she left she exclaimed, “Rivendell! Perhaps if I could just settle down enough to make myself useful, we could leave this very morning! ”

With that the hobbit bolted to where she saw Benia emerge from the trees holding a long bundle of branches tucked under her arm. Without thinking Gilly threw her arms about the southern woman’s waist causing her to take a half step back, regaining her balance. “Miss Benia, Dúlrain is not going to die and neither are we!” she pronounced with enthusiasm. “Not for a long while yet anyway, I should hope. You didn’t tell me that we were going back to Rivendell!”

Benia looked up, and following her friend’s gaze Gilly saw that Dúlrain and Toby were watching them with amusement. A smile blossomed on Benia’s face as she met their gaze. “I did not know, where Dúlrain would choose to go now,” she said quickly casting her warm eyes on her friend once more. “But I am glad that it will be Imladris.”

“I had better get busy then, and help you instead of simply talking of it!” Gilly said. And true to her word, she labored hard alongside Miss Nightshade so that together they heaped a sizable collection of fallen limbs and brush about Barrold Ferny’s body. Fetching his pack, Gilly quickly placed it at the man’s feet while Benia knelt beside the pyre with flint and steel. The southern woman’s lips moved, giving voice to words from a far distant land, as she patiently struck sparks amidst the wood. It was a wonder to Gilly to hear her friend speak in such a strange language, though it brought with it long forgotten memories of Benia’s mother when she had lapsed into her native speech.

Before long, a small light appeared glowing among the tangled debris, and Benia fanned it carefully before, assured of its strength, she stood up again to watch. “What was it you said just then?” Gilly asked her softly, watching the reflection of the small spreading flames in her friend’s eyes. “It sounded like a poem, though I dare say I don’t see that you would want to recite poetry to that one.”

As Benia explained that it was a simple prayer for the dead, Dúlrain drew up, followed closely by Toby who now walked unaided. The ranger stopped to stand beside Miss Nightshade observing the growing blaze in silence before looping his arm about her. She leaned her head back against his chest, still staring at the flames. “We are ready now to leave,” she told him.

“Yes, let’s put all this behind us and head west again,” Gilly broke in. “I’ve always been more fond of weddings than funerals, anyway! And just maybe, I will live to see you both married if we don’t keep standing beside this beacon here!”

“Come, let us go then,” Dúlrain said. And together the four of them put the Great River to their backs. Toward the line of the trees they went, and the mountains beyond.

[Ealasaide]

Benia

As the column of smoke from the pyre of Barrold Ferny dropped farther into the distance behind them, the small party of man, woman, and two hobbits moved leisurely toward the west and the steep trails through the Misty Mountains back toward Rivendell. With Toby still not in peak form and the rest of them tired to their bones despite their lightened spirits, they traveled only a short distance each day, camping in the late afternoon and getting underway again well after sunrise the following day. Evenings around the campfire were spent merrily in storytelling and song. On more than one occasion, Benia wished for the little brass finger cymbals that remained in her pack back in the Elven refuge of Rivendell, letting her voice rise unaccompanied as she sang songs from the Southern deserts and her childhood for the first time since that unfortunate evening in the Forsaken Inn. Nonetheless, despite her joy, Benia watched her companions closely with a mixture of affection and concern as they traveled. Toby seemed to be mending well, though slowly, and Gilly’s mood seemed to improve with each step as every mile drew her that much closer to a reunion with her beloved husband and sons.

One evening, Benia found Dúlrain standing on the edge of their camp, gazing into the southern distance where his captain and the others no doubt still pursued the Ravener to whatever end, his dark brow clouded with worry and deep thought. At a touch from her hand, he smiled and rejoined the rest of them at the fire, but she could tell that his thoughts still strayed to the chase. He had agreed to relinquish the idea of revenge, but she knew that the knowledge Naiore Dannan was still at large troubled him deeply. His sense of duty was strong and, while other obligations -- and perhaps his heart -- kept him with her at the moment, she knew that he would feel the inescapable pull of duty so long as Naiore remained free to wreak her havoc upon the peoples of Middle Earth. He was still not fully recovered from the wounds he had received in the Lone Lands and the weeks since then had been demanding on both his body and his soul, but Benia was determined not to release him from her sight until he had fully regained his strength. When that time came, she knew she must let him go to pursue his duty in the service of his king, but she also knew that she would follow him as far as she could and wait for his return to her arms with the unshakable faith of her love.

Seeing her looking at him, Dúlrain reached out and touched her shoulder. She smiled. A long road lay between them and Rivendell, and the future that would take him away again. She would enjoy the moment, she decided. After all, there was no point in frittering away a happy present in worry about the future. Gilly, on the other hand, was already looking to the future, prating away happily to an interested Toby about Bywater and the Shire. She wondered if Toby would return to the Shire with Gilly and cash in on his status with the hobbit ladies as the One Who Got Away, possibly even settle down with one of them, or if he would return to Bree and his old ways. It would be interesting to find out. She was certain that Gilly would keep her informed to the best of her knowledge as to what the good Mr. Longholes was up to. Quite a friendship seemed to have taken root there. As for herself? She was happy. The future could descend upon them all, however and with whatever tidings it chose to bring along, once they reached Rivendell, but for the moment? With the exception of her finger cymbals, Benia had all that she required.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Amandur, Léspheria & Vanwe ----- Nerindel

The gentle chirping of crickets and the low crackle of the slowly dieing camp fire were all that Avanill could hear as he pulled his cloak tighter to ward off the cold bite of the night air. It was again his turn at watch, but as he peered out into the darkness he thought he saw movement, a brief shadow in the distance just to the left of their small camp. He kept completely still and peered deeper into the obscured darkness, but he could see nothing and soon dismissed it as a fox or some other creature of the wild. They were all edgy and the frustration of not sighting their goal was beginning to have its toll on them all. Shaking his head he rubbed his eyes and resumed his watch, “keep focused!” he muttered to himself remembering the cunning and guile of the elf that they hunted .

Both Amandur and Menecin appeared to be sound asleep but off course neither fully was, each accustom in his own way of the importance of keeping one eye open and one ear to the ground when out in the open hunting such a deadly foe. As he rested Amandur thoughts were of Léspheria, she had still not returned and he was beginning to worry. He did not like that she put herself at risk by taking upon herself these night time excursions, but as she had reminded him she was the only one suitable for the task. Neither he nor Avanill could hope to cover the ground that she could and Menecin with his fragile mental state could not be fully trusted, which only left Vanwe, young and inexperienced in the ways of the wild. So he had been forced to relent to her logical thinking despite the misgivings of his heart and thus far his fears had been unfounded. ‘She is smart and strong!’ he silently reminded himself assuring himself that she would be back soon and if not she would have some good reason for returning late.

While Amandur’s thoughts were of Léspheria and their current situation Menecin could not help but replay in his mind his last encounter with Naiore, his inability troubled him what if he could not act when relied upon to do so. His eyes opened slowly as he looked across to where his daughter lay, so very alike but very different they seemed, would he be able to protect her as was his want? Closing his eyes again he struggled against his doubts and searched for the strength to see his convictions through.

Vanwe unlike the others was the only one in their group truly asleep exhausted not only from the long journey but also from the twists and turns her life was taking, all her illusions of her mother were truly shattered and the sordid truth of her mothers life lay bare before her. But Vanwe saw not the horrid monster the others saw but a tormented tortured soul corrupted by the need for knowledge, that nothing else mattered and for this reason Vanwe could not find it in her heart to hate her mother for her abandonment. Instead she pitied her, she had let her life slip away, in fact shunning it in search of something she could not hope to understand! Vanwe’s eyes suddenly snapped opened, was that it….. Did her mother lack fear… was that her flaw and why she pursued the answer to where fear dwelled so relentlessly???? Letting her eyes flutter closed again she pondered this and looked within herself for some answers.

Léspheria sensed the uneasiness of the others as she hurriedly skirted the left edge of the camp, Avanill started at her sudden appearance jumping to his feet, but before he could speak she stopped him placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Her eyes still narrowing slightly as she addressed him still unsure of the young merchants true intentions.

“Your poison it is ready?” she asked. The young merchant nodded pulling out a small dark bottle. “good! It is time to go!” she said quickly stepping passed him to wake the others, but both Amandur and Menecin were up before she reached them and waking Vanwe.

“We must hurry! Naiore has cut loose her companions and now heads south on a newly acquired mount, if we leave now we may be able to head her off at the river!” she quickly informed them as she snatched up her gear and kicked out the fire.

“You have sighted her?” Menecin asked as he helped his daughter to fasten her gear to the saddle of her mount.

“No,” Léspheria answered shaking her head, “the trail diverges, two sets of prints heading east on foot and a set of hoof prints heading south, but you will be glad to know I did find Dúlrain and his companions, they head east in hopes of freeing Miss Nightshade.” she told them turning to specifically address Amandur.

“Indeed that is good news!” Vanwe exclaimed as she climbed into her saddle. “I should not like to think of any woman in the hands of that vile thug!” she shivered visibly remembering the uncomfortable way in which the villain would leer at her.

As they rode out from camp Léspheria relayed to them what she had found and what she had discovered from Dúlrain assuring Amandur that the young ranger was in good health albeit filled with deep concern for the southern lady which was more than understandable. Amadur then kick his horses into a fast gallop and the others followed the final chase was on, if Naiore crossed the river and made it into the southlands then they would likely loose her… it had to finish here!

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Menecin

It was not long before one by one they congregated at the point where Dúlrain chose to leave the shelter of the wooded foothills; together with his halfling companions pursuing the eastward course toward the river Anduin. Léspheria had already slid off her horse as the others drew up, and calling for a brief halt she left to quickly survey the area. Only Amandur rode ahead.

Remaining seated on their mounts waiting, Menecin glanced at Vanwe. His daughter’s eyes were closed, and as the morning sun caught her stray gossamer hair, she struck him as luminous. Like the swan of Belfalas at daybreak. Like her mother. As the poignant remembrance rose to his consciousness, Menecin pushed it aside. His daughter was worn and tired, vulnerable. Looking past her, he pondered what Avanill vulnerabilities might be, as the man dubiously scanned the trees about them as if even now Naiore were at hand. It was right that the young man should be watchful. They should all be watchful, yet keep at arm’s length that precipice of pain and fear where he knew Naiore stood poised waiting for them. Consciously the bard again drove back his inner discord. And as he became distant, removed from its pull, his bearing took on a noticeably colder mien.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Avanill looked to Menecin, and catching his steady stare, the merchant let his eyes drift to the horse that bore Vanwe. The animal shook its mane impatiently, halter creaking as it arched its neck earthward. The young elf’s eyes fluttered open, and she flashed a faint smile to find the two posted solemnly on either side of her. Menecin pulled a small flacon from his saddle and offered it to her, quickly withdrawing his hand as she took it. It was as his daughter raised this bottle to her lips that Amandur returned, and the young merchant spurred his horse forward to meet him. “What has Léspheria found?” the ranger asked as Avanill approached. “Is there any sign of the others?”

“She has not said,” the young merchant replied looking around for his fellow traveler.

A soft voice was heard though she could not be seen. “There is no sign that Dúlrain or the others have returned to this place,” Léspheria announced as she appeared, emerging from the brush. “And a smudge of grey smoke rises above the Vale of the Anduin where their trail leads.” Turning to face Avanill, she added, “It is a good sign. I believe Barrold Ferny to have fallen at the hand of our friends. For though I can not see anyone near the pyre, Barrold has not the respect for life or the for the living to allow such niceties, and if any other had been slain the smoldering fire would still be tended.”

The merchant nodded, “And Naiore?” he said looking to Amandur. “What of the Ravenor?”

“Naiore has lost no time here,” Amandur said. “She has not confidence in her allies, be they orcs or men, but guesses rightly that she is still pursued. To be sure, we five together would be unwelcome guests in her camp,” he said gravely. “All the more reason to press on, she was here but a few short hours ago.”

So close, Menecin thought as he looked at his companions. “Friends," he entreated. "I ask that you cling not to hope, for it will betray you to her. But meet her instead armed with a hardened heart. I pray you, still your minds so that she might see naught but her own refection, having no hold over you.”

A shadow fell over Vanwe’s face at her father’s words. “Would you have us all become so callous?”

“There is no other way. Does an arrow consider mercy as it speeds on its errand? No, its course is set for good or ill long before it finds its mark, and so it must be for us.” With this Vanwe became silent, and Menecin’s resolve wavered as he saw through her eyes. He had so many times hunted Naiore in hope, but he now knew in the end what horror it was that might come to pass.

Sensing the tension, Avanill tugged at the reins of his mount heading for the trail that lead away south along the skirts of the mountains. “I know that I’d give quite a sum to have a bow and quiver now! For settling this at such a range seems preferable,” he quipped over his shoulder. “Better to shoot arrows than be one. But I will do as I’m told, for now at least. And take note, we will see this though together or not at all.”

Amandur turned his horse to follow the merchant. “When Naiore Dannan is safely held in Minas Tirith awaiting the king’s judgment, the peoples North and South will rest knowing that a shadow of Mordor no longer passes among them. Though we all have our own reasons for being here Vanwe, what we do ultimately is for those people. Let us not fail them!”

Pausing a moment, Léspheria waited so that her kinswoman might ride beside her, but the young elf was lost in thought, and her father still spoke to her seeing her distress.

“I took a vow to both love and honor your mother before we were betrothed, Vanwe,” Menecin said to his daughter. “I have not forgotten it. It is because of love and honor that I would stop her now.” But he saw a glimmer of sadness in her sapphire eyes as she raised her face to meet his, and he knew that she saw past this veil of words.

“I know you try to do what you think is right,” she said softly before leaving him to join Léspheria.

Trailing behind as the group spurred their horses to thunder though the wooded foothills, regret found Menecin once more. And it was rueful to him that he had not succeeded in bringing Naiore before her kin while they were yet plentiful in Middle-Earth. Now she would face trial by men, and they would not remember what she had once had been. Short lived and stern, she would be judged solely by her crimes.

As they traveled, so the sun also crossed the field of pale blue above them. Too soon it seemed the afternoon had grown old. And approaching a clearing in the trees that afforded a wide vista, they chose to halt, their horses now sweating and spent.

With the height of the mountains rising sheer to their right and the flatlands leading off to the rain swollen Anduin on their left, there they saw spread before them a broad fen. Here the swiftly flowing Gladden left the mountains, slowing and widening before it met the Great River.

“Sîr Ninglor,” Menecin said solemnly. “Gladden Fields. Perhaps our last chance to capture Naiore before she crosses the Anduin, slipping from our grasp among the boughs of the Greenwood.” But not wishing to be seen by her he led his mount away from the edge to find Amandur and Vanwe had gathered at Léspheria’s side. The elf was poised on her horse, looking blankly in front of her, deathly still.

Menecin heard Avanill take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “And so it begins,” the young man said. “I’ve seen this stricken expression before now.”

Dropping his reins Menecin passed by him, going instead to Amandur. “We can not stay here,” he said firmly. “She knows now were we are. We must go at once.”

[Ealasaide]

Naiore

Naiore had pushed the sleek little farm horse hard on the ride south and now, as the waters of the Gladden River rushed through the darkness beside them, she slowed her pace, allowing the animal a slight respite from the headlong flight. Reining the mare to a halt, Naiore suddenly dismounted, a slight frown creasing her fair brow. She turned, looking toward the north and, for the perhaps thousandth time, cast her mind back in the direction of her pursuers. They were close now, so close that she could distinguish each individual consciousness from the next. There were only five of them who dared pursue her so closely, five very familiar minds, five well- known souls.

“Like the fingers of a hand,” whispered Naiore, looking down at her own gloved hand. “Shall I let that hand pursue me and collect me like a canary from a cage?” A smile touched her lips. “Or shall I sever the fingers from the body, one by one? Shall I be like the scorpion and sting them unto to death even as they reach for me?”

She reached out and stroked the side of the brown horse with one hand as the other touched the Noldorian dagger sheathed at her waist.

“Yes,” she whispered. “One by one, they shall fall.”

Naiore turned and took her pack from the back of the horse and with slap to the animal’s flank sent the horse trotting onward along the river bank. Careful to leave no footprints of her own, Naiore turned and moved back in the direction from whence she had come. Finding a hollow beneath a bush, she knelt and concealed her pack, taking from it only her bow and a handful of gray arrows. Her two curved swords already hung ready at her sides, but her fingertips lingered over the fletchings of the fine elven arrows. She would use no orcish arrows for this errand. Her prey must know who it was that sought to destroy them. Let their fear grow...

Flitting like a shadow across the moonlit ground, Naiore moved purposefully in the direction of her pursuers, throwing her mind ahead of her as she ran. Finding Léspheria’s consciousness in the misty distance, Naiore formulated an idea and sent it onward into the mind of the dark-haired elf-lady who dared to follow her.

Yes, purred the voice of Naiore into Léspheria’s waiting ears. Come, little cousin, if you dare. Come and find me. We have much to talk about, if you’ve the stomach for it.

There was a hesitation and a slight ripple in the other woman’s consciousness before the accustomed wall fell into place, blocking Naiore’s melodious voice. Nonetheless, Naiore smiled, knowing that she had gotten through to her pursuer. Come, she continued to beckon enticingly. Come, cousin, come and find me. I’ll wait for you and your friends by the river, where the One Ring was lost and found again. Shall I do that? Don’t forget to bring your fear...

Naiore continued on her northward course, and, as her sense of her pursuers grew stronger, she pulled back the tendrils of her mind to listen for the sounds of their actual presence. Before too long, her sharp elven ears were greeted by the sound of approaching horses and the soft murmur of voices. Moving with a feline grace, Naiore pulled herself high into the branches of an ancient oak and fitted an arrow to her bow.