The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly

Running through the list she held in her mind, Gilly sat on the edge of the chair feeling quite contented with her sense of accomplishment. Everything seemed to be working out well. Her dress was fixed, except for the tatting that she had half finished, and which would likely be ready to set in place by the end of the day. Novfuinien had found someone to carry her letter, and she had also received word that Dúlrain was much improved, though Benia still watched over him. Quite genuinely pleased to hear this, Gilly had debated going there herself, but having seen that Benia had a soft corner in her heart for the man, she had chosen not to disturbed them, hoping to grant them some rare sheltered time together now that the crises had past. For as she commented at length to Novfuinien, it was about time her friend found a bit of happiness in life!

Only one piece of unfinished business remained, Dúlrain’s companion sword. Gilly eyed it dully glinting by the door, as if it were winking to remind her of the past few tumultuous weeks. She had dutifully cleaned it as well as she knew how, and it had polished up nicely indeed, but Kaldir had said that he would show her how to put the finishing touches to it, so she could hand it back to Dúlrain in as good a shape as when she had received it. And this she dearly wanted to do now that he had awakened and she found herself ready to make her way back home whenever it suited Kaldir. It had been so good of Dúlrain to part with it in the first place, and as she reflected, it had come very much in handy.

“Ack, there is nothing for it, is there?” she said to herself, sliding down off the chair to pick up the weapon. “Seems the student must track down the master, if she’s ever to learn such things!” But as she went to open the door’s latch, a light but rapid knock was heard on the other side. With blade in hand Gilly opened the door wide to find Benia standing on the threshold, looking not at all like the picture of joy that the hobbit imagined. She showed not even the slightest inkling of it.

“What has happened?” Benia asked stepping into the room and quietly closing the door behind her. “Has some one been troubling you? Why do you answer the door armed?”

“Oh no, Miss Benia, quite the opposite. Actually, I’ve been treated a ways better than I could have wished, and have even managed to made friends with an elf. Imagine that, would you!” But Benia seemed restless, and her glance did not stay long on her friend, but nodding, she crossed over to the window, and then back again. “Here,” Gilly said pulling the chair away from the wall. “Why don’t you sit yourself down? You are making me nervous with all your walking to a fro.”

“No thank you, I could not possibly sit just now. But still, you have not told me why you hold a sword in your hand.”

Gilly chuckled, grinning broadly. “It is only a coincidence. I was just going to set about finding Mr. Kaldir to help me sharpen this before I return it to Mr. Dúlrain. He had promised to show me what to do, but I haven’t seen him since we got here, and my friend Novfuinien tells me he’s about this morning. So I was just off to find him. The man is like a regular ghost coming and going all unseen!

“But tell me about yourself. I thought that I would find my old friend with a smile brightening her face now that Mr. Dúlrain is out of danger, and instead it is right cloudy weather. He is alright, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes he is,” Benia said with a wistful smile. To her friend’s surprise she suddenly stopped pacing and settled down in the chair. “Gilly,” she said after a moment. “I have no mother now…”

“I know that Miss Benia, but your mother was a marvelous woman!” Gilly declared, for the hobbit had always thought very highly of her.

“And I have never had a sister.”

“No, I don’t reckon I ever heard of your having a sister,” the hobbit shook her head, wondering where all this was leading.

“But I do have a very good friend, and that is you.”

“Benia, what is troubling you so? You seem a restless as a cat in the fish market. Can it be so hard to tell such an old friend?”

“Gilly I would ask you to be more than a friend for a moment, but mother and sister also, leaving your own feelings aside, for I know you have become a friend also to Kaldir. I have a weighty decision make, one that has taken me by surprise, for he has just now asked for my hand.”

“Ah, small wonder then that you are so serious today! But it is an easy choice. How can you give your hand without your heart also? I have seen how strongly you care for Mr. Dúlrain, so in accepting this offer you would be injuring Mr. Kaldir as well as yourself.”

“If it could only be that simple,” Benia breathed, and Gilly listened as the story unfolded of her meeting Kaldir in the halls of healing, and of her own doubts. And the hobbit grew sad listening, for there seemed no clear answer anymore, and she grieved over her friend’s dilemma. For each choice seemed bitter, and it was no longer a question of her friend’s happiness, but only of what would accomplish something good. And in that, the scale tipped in favor of Kaldir. For to choose Dúlrain seemed to mean to loosing him, or to tempt him to turn his back on Kaldir, which in a way would also be to loosing him. And to deny Kaldir would be like cutting down a tree that was slowly returning to life after a fire.

“I confess, I am at a loss,” Gilly said in the end. “But I think that you shouldn’t hurry yourself to answer Kaldir. No doubt he made a good case, though I daresay he was late getting out the gate. But I don’t feel at all good about you taking up with him permanently, not yet. Not as good as I would about Mr. Dúlrain. And I think your mother would have agreed with me…father too, for that matter. It is easy to overlook a scarred face, but if those hidden scars he mentioned disfigure his heart, oh that would be a hard road for you, and one I don’t care to see you travel. Best to find out before deciding just how sound his is, as it’ll only come to the forefront over the years. But then again, I don’t suppose he’d be keen on waiting, for if you will excuse me for saying it, he is sure to know a little of your feelings for his friend. ”

“Well, I think we both already know what sort of things he has been capable of,” she said looking briefly at her hands and then rising again to return to the window. “But his words were honest. And I see that he is trying to find his way out, and that I can help him. But I can’t bring myself to a decision, and I feel I can’t breathe, thinking of it.”

“Oh just wait until I see him again, he will get an earful from me! What was he thinking of, letting you get so attached to Mr. Dúlrain and then springing this on you? Cruel it was!”

“No please, I will handle this Gilly. I don’t think he sees the position he has put me in.”

“Sees or not sees, someone should open his eyes for him! He’s no way blind is he? And he has sense enough to know what it is he’s done. My guess is that he already knows!”

“Well, if anyone is to open his eyes it should be me,” Benia said walking over to the hobbit and resting a hand on her shoulder. “But I need to think all this over. I need quiet and room to walk, fresh air after being indoors for so long!”

“There is a nice garden close by, maybe you could do your thinking there. But do let me know what you decide. I will be worrying over it until you do.”

“I will,” said Benia promised. “For I think in either case, I will need a friend.” And with that she left, and Gilly was alone.

Forgetting the sword and picking up her tatting instead, Gilly headed out the door also. She was quite upset, and needed to cool down, and with that thought in mind she headed toward the Great Hall.


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

Menecin

Downwardly spiraling thoughts assailed the elf as he fell to questioning again each moment of his long life. Had then all that he had done been only self-serving, and all that he loved false? Surely not all love was illusion, for he felt his own love had been truly given. He had cared deeply for Naiore. That would never change, though he now felt confused, and as if his searching for her had always been based in his own need of her, or rather, what she had once represented to him. And that had now become a howling emptiness inside. Something that had never really existed.

“Father, are you alright?” a voice said beside him. And he felt the light touch of a hand on his back as Vanwe knelt down, heedless of the sodden earth beneath her knees. Raising his eyes, he saw concern and relief etched in her expression. “What were you thinking, coming out here alone?” she chided, the tears rising to her eyes. “What if she had found you? Please, I could not bear to loose you too!” Lowering her head she wept, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

And those tears moved her father’s heart. Surely they were not born of deceit or pretense, but of the natural upwelling of emotion. No not all love was an illusion. Naiore was not right in this. Lifting her chin to wipe the tears from her face, Menecin looked again into her eyes. “See, you have found me at last, and would not loose me, and neither I you. For when you did not return to me, I went in search of you.” And then rising to his feet he helped her up also, now that he noticed Léspheria and a ranger stood watching the brush. “But you are right, it is not safe here and we should return.”

“But why have I found you so disconsolate?” She asked earnestly. “Do you not know that there are many who would help you if you would only ask?”

“I thought that I had lost you Vanwe, that your mother had coaxed you from safety.” He looked around at the brush surrounding them. “I thought that I too was lost, but I know now that none of this is true.”

Vanwe looked up at him, puzzled.

“Come let us leave this place,” Menecin said starting off toward Amandur unsteadily. Picking up the rusted sword, Vanwe ran to his side to lend him support, and he leaned heavily on her shoulder, smiling down at her. “I apologize, daughter, for I fear that I have not taken as much care as I ought, and now have become a burden to your slight shoulders!”

Vanwe returned his smile and walked silently by his side, to where Léspheria and Amandur were waiting for them.

[Nerindel]

Amandur

On their return, to the last house Amandur took his leave of the others and made his way towards the ranger’s quarters. Briskly he strode down the long corridors turning right towards the room in which Rauthain had been housed. Standing before the door of his brethren Amandur knocked urgently and then entered the ranger’s quarters, as expected the older ranger was already up and dress.

“Amandur,” Rauthain greeted him with a slight incline of his head.

“Rauthain my friend there is to be a change of plans we will be leaving sooner than expected!” he quickly informed him. “Find Avanill and Kaldir and have them prepare to leave as soon as possible!” he finished turning sharply to leave.

“Off course, but if I may ask, to what do we owe this sudden change of plans?” Rauthain quickly asked.

Amandur paused at the door pondering his answer and then turned “a feeling,” he replied simply, gaining a questioning look from his old friend.

“We found Lord Menecin upon the rill that borders Rivendell’s woods this morning. Lady Léspheria thought she sensed something or someone, off course it could easily just have been the bard she sensed, but I am inclined to believe that the emotions she sensed and the presence of the bard were more than mere coincidence!” he explained moving towards the open window.

“You believe Naiore is still here?” Rauthain asked in astonishment, though it did make some sense to him that the elf would linger yet awhile.

“Yes, but not for long, after this mornings activities she will soon be on the move again.” Amandur replied solemnly, staring out over the deceptively peaceful valley. Rauthain nodded his understanding as Amandur strode purposefully back towards the door.

“And what of Dulrain?” Rauthain asked, “I daresay he will be reluctant to be left behind.”

“I go now to speak with our young companion and to learn of his condition from the healers, we will meet at the stables when everyone is ready!” Amandur answered thoughtfully. The two men nodded to each other and then Amandur left to seek out the young ranger and his healers.

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

Dulrain and Amandur

Dúlrain awoke to the morning of the third day to find that he was alone; he sat up blinking against the bright morning light filtering through the room. Looking around he noticed that the jug and pitcher that normally sat on the dresser was missing, he smiled realising that his love must have gone to fill it. Contented and feeling much stronger he rose from his bed, wishing to surprise Benia by being dressed and walking about before her return. A dull ache remained in his side as he pulled on a fresh shirt and pants, but it was nothing that gave him too much trouble. Pleased with himself he walked up to the large windows and opened them out, letting the cool breeze of the summer morning chase away the stagnant air of his curative prison.

As he stood looking out over the valley he thought on the past several days, his feelings for Benia had grown so much that for the short periods they were apart he found himself eagerly anticipating her return, as he did now! A reminiscent smile spread over his face it had been long since he had known such happiness and in the presence of such a fair and wondrous woman, he wanted no more than to keep her happy and safe. She had strength and spirit that he admired and like him, he knew she would never be contented to stay in one place for too long. Giving into his fantasies, he pictured what their life would be like together, several hours passed, until a brisk knock at the door shook him from his reverie.

“Come!” he called gaily, turning from the window to see who had come to visit.

“Well I must say you at least sound better!” Amandur laughed as he entered the room.

“Indeed I am my friend, it is good to see you though I had thought to see you before now!” he laughed in return.

“Aye and you would have if the healers had allowed it and you where not otherwise engaged,” Amandur grinned jovially.

“Aye I have been pleasantly pre…” he began his voice trailing off as his eyes swept across the items Amandur held in his hand. Cold reality swept aside the fantasy of the past two days and he now thought how foolish he had been to think that he and Benia could ever have all that he had dreamed for them. His internal struggle of love and loyalty instantly returned, to have Benia would mean to loss Kaldir, but to deny his heart would mean losing them both for he would certainly have to let them both go, their happiness would bring him pain, a pain he was not sure he could bare.

“The healers tell me that you are well enough to leave their care, I managed to procure these from them though reluctant they were to relinquish them,” Amandur grinned holding out the belt from which hung the two swords that Dúlrain usually carried at his side.

It was with a heavy heart that Dúlrain took the weapons, carefully strapping them to his waist, “Does this mean I will be permitted to continue on with you when you leave?” he asked as he tucked the extra length of leather behind the buckle of his belt. “Indeed,” Amandur nodded, “It may be that we will be in need of your services!”

“And Kaldir?” he asked looking up from his belt.

“He will be joining us,” Amandur answered his grin melting away and his brow furrowing with concern. “He has spoken with me about giving up his old ways and returning to the ways of our brethren.”

With a heavy sigh Dulrain turn again to the open window guessing the reason for his brother’s change of heart. That he was thinking of the future meant that he had not given up on life; he knew that he should be happy that his brother was finding his way, but the pain of losing Benia was unbearable. Closing his eyes against what he knew he must do, he asked Amandur when they would be leaving.

“As soon as everyone is ready,” Amandur told him, slightly confused by the young ranger’s reaction.

“I must first speak with Miss Nightshade, and then I will join you,” Dúlrain said turning again to face his captain, his head held high but his eyes betraying his sorrow.

“You need not do this!” Amandur sighed reading his young friends intent, “You could let the lady decide?”

“No I could not place so heavy a burden upon her,” he sighed.

“Yet you would cause her sorrow by not returning!” Amandur demanded.

“She would soon forget me and Kaldir will make a good husband and she a good wife, they can find peace and happiness together, don’t you see this is what I want for both of them.” Dulrain went on, turning again to look out over the valley.

“Even at the expense of your own happiness?” Amandur pressed, “Do you not then love her?”

“Off course I do!” he snapped angrily, rounding on his captain. “So much that it physically hurts, but who am I to deny my brother this chance of happiness! Benia has some feeling for him I have seen it, she can cure him of his hurts and he is the better to protect her from the evils of this world. She was not meant for me, it was only happy circumstance and chance that we met at all.” He finished dejectedly.

“I will speak no more of the matter, my mind is made up!” he said firmly as he turned too searched for his things.

“Then I will expect to see you at the stables once you are ready,” Amandur sighed turning to leave.

As soon as his captain was gone Dúlrain fell to his knees his head in his hands, his whole world was crumbling before him and he could see no way out! After what seemed like an eternity he rose, steeling himself against what he must do.

Finally finding his pack he made preparations to leave, packing only the essentials and gaining rations from the kitchens of the elves, once satisfied that he had all that was needed he reluctantly threw the pack over his shoulder and went in search of Benia, still unsure of exactly what he was going to say to her!

[Ealasaide]

Benia

After leaving Gilly in her room, Benia walked swiftly in the direction of the gardens, feeling as though she could scarcely breathe. She needed time to think. More than once she raised a hand and rubbed her temple where a throbbing pain had begun to set in. While she felt deeply fortunate to have such a wise and caring friend as Gilly, Benia found that Gilly had raised more new questions than she had offered answers. She found herself wondering now if Kaldir really did understand the kind of pressure he had placed upon her. After all, she knew from hard experience that he was a man accustomed to working his will by force, if by no other means. He was a smart man. Was the guilt he had placed at her feet - should she refuse him - merely another weapon he wielded when it suited him, like the sword at his side, in order to gain a certain end? She had seen him in action. He was a master at manipulation and deceit. Could he really have changed so much?

Gilly had been right in that it was easy to overlook a scarred face. The hidden scars were the ones that she should beware. Like jagged rocks under the placid surface of a lake, a disfigured heart would only be revealed with time. Had Kaldir's heart merely been wounded by his experiences in Mordor? Or had it been disfigured in some ugly and dangerous way? Gilly had been right to urge caution. On the other hand, Gilly had not seen Kaldir's eyes when he had spoken to Benia of his need for her and his hopes for the future. They were not the same eyes that she had looked into that afternoon in Bree when he had forced her to hold a knife to his throat and ordered her to kill him, yet the situation seemed remarkably similar: she could either save him or run him through; the choice was hers. Or was it? Both then and now, while she held the knife, he still seemed strangely in control, bending her to his will by the sheer strength of his personality.

Instinctively, Benia reached up and touched the carved wooden whistle that she still wore on the leather thong around her neck. Dúlrain. A sad smile touched her lips as she thought of the too brief hours of happiness she had shared with him the day before. Surely that happiness was not already a thing of the past. With her other hand, she wiped a tear from the corner of one of her amber eyes. If it were merely a choice of the heart, then there would be no contest at all. Her heart would always and completely belong to Dúlrain. All she had to do was picture his face in her mind, his clear gray eyes, his gentle smile, and her heart would flutter in her chest like a butterfly. A song would rise to her lips. But now, with the thought of losing him forever staring her starkly in the face, she found herself unable to breathe. The dull throb that had begun in her temple shifted to the pit of her stomach, where it continued to trouble her with a persistent ache.

"Dúlrain," she whispered, closing the carved whistle in her fist. "Please..." she added softly, unconsciously echoing the single word she had spoken to him when she had lifted her veil in those few fateful seconds on the dusty sidestreet in Bree. Feeling suddenly light-headed, she reached out for support and found herself steadied by the touch of a strong hand. Wishing for Dúlrain, she looked up only to find herself looking into the concerned eyes of an unfamiliar elf.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked gently. "I was behind you on the path. It seemed you were about to fall."

"I-I'm fine... thank you," stammered Benia. "Thank you." Carefully, she disengaged herself from his grasp.

"You're very pale," he persisted, giving her a stern, though caring, gaze. "Are you sure I can't at least help you to a bench?" He gestured toward a stone bench that stood in a bower only a few paces distant from where the two of them stood on the garden path.

"Thank you," Benia repeated softly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gave him a weak but determined smile. "But no. I'm fine, really." She took a step back.

Finally seeing some color come back into her cheeks, he nodded agreeably and set off again past her down the path. "Be careful," he called over his shoulder to her as he disappeared around a bend. "If you start to feel dizzy again, be sure to sit down."

Benia nodded at his back. "I will," she murmured, but sitting down was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. She needed to walk, to think. She needed space. Turning, she happened to glance up and see the crowns of the tall oaks and pines that lay in the forest beyond the garden walls. That was what she needed, the solitude of the forest, not a busy garden where elves sang incessantly and zipped up and down the paths like so many brightly colored hummingbirds. She needed to be alone. Without thinking of what dangers might still lurk in the forest so soon after a battle, Benia went to the gate and slipped outside. Within moments, she was concealed within the shadows of the trees.

[Ealasaide]

Naiore

Naiore’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her drawn dagger as she faded back into the undergrowth. She had sensed Vanwe, Léspheria, and the ranger well before she had heard their actual voices. As Menecin turned his head toward the sound of their approach, she had weighed the option of rushing in to finish him, but decided in the last instant that there was not time. Even a slight struggle on his part would have held her there long enough for Vanwe and the others to reach them. Knowing that if they found her she would be captured, she had then seized the opportunity to escape while Menecin looked the other way. A burning rage raked over her as she slid silently into the trees.

"Another betrayal!" she hissed. First Toby, then Avanill, and now Vanwe had turned against her, one after the other, all of them traitors. Toby and Avanill, well, that could be expected; termites, the both of them. But Vanwe! Naiore had never believed for a moment that Vanwe would fail her. But she had. And, not only that, Vanwe had caused Naiore herself to fail in her only objective in coming to Imladris at all. Because of Vanwe, Menecin still lived. Naiore took in a deep breath, her slender hands still trembling with rage. She was unaccustomed to failure and had no intention of making a habit of it. Still, she could not believe that she had been so wrong about her own daughter. She had been so sure of Vanwe, so sure of her own success when she had set her plan into motion that failure had seemed inconceivable, yet the inconceivable had come to pass. Someone else must have had a hand in it. Nonetheless, Naiore had never been one to dwell on failures. There would be other plans, other chances. Already, her mind raced ahead into the future.

Slowing her pace, Naiore turned and let her gray eyes scan the forest around and behind her, her ears listening for any sound of pursuit. There was none, only the soft chirp of birds and a murmur of distant voices moving away from her, as Vanwe, Menecin, and the others retreated back in the direction of the buildings. Naiore reached out with her mind, touching each of their minds in turn. She sensed strong emotions flowing from all of them, yet each one stood clearly and distinctly separate from each of the others: Menecin, Vanwe, the ranger, Léspheria. Cousin. Interfering meddler. Perhaps she was the real reason that Naiore’s plans had failed, managing somehow to undo a mother’s careful work. The Ravener’s eyes narrowed slightly.

They would pay. All of them. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but the time would come when she would have another chance at them. She could be patient. For the moment, however, she knew that she must concentrate on her escape. Barrold Ferny awaited her on the ridge above the elven refuge with travel supplies and the bounty hunter’s gray horse. She must retrieve her own pack and her two curved swords from where she had hidden them in the forest, then rejoin Ferny on the ridge. From there, they would make their escape. Once she knew that she was free of pursuers, then she could begin to think about circling back to renew her efforts against Vanwe and Menecin. After all, this time, she had come so close.

As serenity once again began to settle over Naiore’s fair features, a slight frown creased her brow. Ferny, her one loyal and remaining ally, expected nothing less than Vanwe as his reward. She had promised him at least that, but now, with this latest betrayal, it did not appear as though she would be able to deliver. Her frown faded to an expression of cool neutrality as she flicked a stray braid back over her shoulder. It was an inconvenience, that was all. She should have known better than to make such a promise, but the one advantage to a scoundrel like Ferny was that he would not be particular about his reward just so long as he was well paid. She would see to it that he was. For the moment, however, he would still have to make do with the mithril book covers he had taken from the home of the slain ranger, Tallas.

With renewed calm and confidence, Naiore arrived at the place where she had hidden her belongings. She was relieved to find them undisturbed, precisely as she had left them. She smiled to herself and bent down to pick up her pack, but went instantly motionless as the sound of softly rustling leaves arrested her attention. Straightening, she reached out with her mind. Was it Vanwe - Menecin, perhaps - coming to find her, after all? Judging by the sound, it was only one individual, and that person was not taking any particular care to conceal his or her approach. Whoever it was seemed completely unaware of her presence and moved with no attempt at stealth. Touching the stranger’s mind, Naiore realized at once that it was neither her daughter nor her former lover who moved with such careless and heedless energy along the nearby path. She could sense in the stranger great turmoil and unhappiness, but no malice or fear. Naiore relaxed.

Judging herself safe for the moment, she bent once more and finished the task of securing her pack and her swords to her person. Straightening once more, she looked in the direction the stranger had gone, her curiosity piqued by the question of who might be roaming about the woods alone when there very well could still be orcs about. It wasn’t an orc. She could tell that by the quality of the creature’s mind. But who was it? Moving stealthily, she followed a course that would eventually intercept the stranger’s path. The silken garrote twisted between her fingers. Reaching the point of intersection well ahead of the stranger, Naiore concealed herself around a bend and waited. Her starlit eyes watched the path with interest.

When the stranger finally did appear, a chilling smile danced across Naiore’s beautiful face. “Perhaps you can be of use to me,” she murmured as the slender figure of the southern woman she had seen on the stairs came into view. “Aren’t you the bounty hunter’s lady?” Falling into silence once more, she waited until the southern woman had passed, then Naiore moved in swiftly behind her, dropping the silken garrote around the unsuspecting woman’s throat. Pulling it tight, she forced the woman first to her knees, then the ground. As the woman’s fingers scrabbled helplessly at the tightening garrote, Naiore placed her leatherclad knee between the woman’s shoulder blades, pinning her to the earth. She bent down, placing her lips next to her captive’s ear.

“Do you value your life?” she asked coolly. The woman stopped struggling, but Naiore felt a wave of fear wash over her from the consciousness of the downed woman. Naiore tightened the garrote. “Do you?”

The southern woman nodded, struggling for breath.

“Then do not move a muscle.” When the woman nodded again, Naiore transferred both ends of the silken garrote into one hand and pulled a short length of rope from a side pocket on her pack with the other. When she was certain that the southern woman was well under her control, she released the garrote and bound the woman’s wrists tightly behind her back. Leaning forward, Naiore spoke to her again.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked. “Some call me the Lady of the Swan.”

The southern woman nodded. “I know who you are...” she gasped into the moss and dry leaves that carpeted the forest floor.

“Good.” Naiore smiled. “Then you know that I would just as soon kill you as look at you. The only reason you still breathe is that you may be of use to me. Are you not my old friend Kaldir’s ladylove?”

The woman said nothing, but her spine stiffened under Naiore’s weight which gave the Ravener all of the answer she required. “I thought as much,” continued Naiore. “Benia, isn’t it?”

“How - ?”

“You would be surprised at the things I know,” Naiore answered. She unwound the garrote from the southern woman’s throat and put it away, drawing her dagger in its place. Rising, Naiore took a firm grip on Benia’s thick black braid and the back of her neck with her free hand and, with surprising strength, hauled the semi-conscious woman to her feet. Pushing her ahead of her, Naiore forced her to walk. “Move quickly,” she ordered, maintaining her grip on the back of Benia’s neck. “Remember that I hold a dagger to your back. If you attempt to get away or even if you fall, it will find its mark. Walk.”

Benia said nothing, but stumbled forward at Naiore’s bidding. Moving in this way, with Naiore half-guiding and half-pushing Benia along by an iron grip to the back of her neck, they arrived very quickly at the base of Naiore’s hidden pathway out of the valley. There Naiore paused. Reaching around to Benia’s face, the Ravener closed her fingers around the fine silver chain that the southern woman wore across her cheekbone and gave it a firm tug. The chain snapped at either end, falling limply into Naiore’s hand. Smiling confidently, Naiore dropped it in the center of the path.

“We must make sure your lover finds you,” she said. “He and I have some unfinished business.”

“He will bring others with him,” Benia responded, twisting in Naiore‘s grip. Her amber eyes flashed with anger and, Naiore noticed with interest, fear. For herself? Or for the bounty hunter? “And they will kill you.”

Naiore laughed her silvery laugh. “I see that you do not know him as well as I do. Kaldir will come alone, and, when he does, you and I will be waiting.” She pushed the southern woman forward and upward along the steep path.

Behind them, the spangled chain sparkled in the grass at the base of the path, like a trace of dew touched by the morning sunlight.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly

Gilly sat on a low bench close by the Great Hall, squinting in the sunshine as she tatted rather furiously. The hobbit was mumbling to herself as she worked to pull out a mistake she had made. It appeared that she was having trouble concentrating on her work, and from time to time she stopped and looked around, absently waving her hand over an untouched plate of food that sat beside her.

She was beginning to worry, Miss Benia still had not returned from her walk. And though she had left messages for her friend to meet her here, both in the Halls of Healing and at her room, Gilly was starting to imagine that Miss Benia might have succumbed to her anxiety and fainted away in some unknown recess of the garden, or worse yet run off. But surely, she would not do that with out saying goodbye. It wasn’t in Miss Benia to hide from such problems. She would sort it out in time, Gilly consoled herself. It was just a rather messy job and no doubt that was what kept her. At least that is what the hobbit fervently hoped.

Looking up once more after pricking her finger, she brought her injured hand to her mouth in time to see Kaldir walking with long strides toward the entrance to the guest wing. "You’ll not find her in there!" she said to herself, quickly going back to her work, and reminding herself with each loop that Benia wanted to handle this situation with Kaldir. "And you’ll keep your peace Gilly Banks. Don’t go about meddling where you’re not entitled, or no good will come of it."

But honestly, someone should tell him, such things; else he’d never learn! She reasoned. A person’s heart is not so much to be given as it is to be won. And if it weren’t for his ill-timed proposal, she wouldn’t be a worried sick over Miss Benia. Her friend would be sitting here right now, smiling, as she ought to be, with a brimming heart and full stomach. Gilly looked mournfully at the food spoiling in the sunshine next to her. But he’s gone and robbed her of all that, just as if he had taken her hard earned gold.

Finally, striking a compromise with herself, Gilly decided not to speak at all to Kaldir about Benia unless he brought it up. Then she could not be blamed for what she said, for she had always prided herself on her honesty, and being honest she would not take pains to hide her opinions, from him either. And so as she tatted, Gilly began to construct in her mind all that she wanted to say to him, until she was surprised by the sudden appearance of a pair of well-worn boots in front of her. “Mrs. Banks,” she heard the familiar voice of Kaldir say. “I have been looking for you.”

“For me, Sir? Why is it you’d be looking for me?” Gilly asked, thinking to herself that the man probably wanted to find out from her where Miss Benia was, or more likely what answer she might be expected to give. For hadn’t she been sitting here in broad daylight all along?

“I had promised to take care of a sword for you,” Kaldir said. “Do you still have it?”

This wasn’t the reason she had expected, and she softened somewhat to see that he had not forgotten his promise. “Dúlrain’s sword you mean? Yes well, I do have it. As a matter of fact, I was about to ask you whether we could get it seen to earlier, but I had entirely forgot!” she babbled, and remembering Benia’s distress at seeing the sword, she looked again to the plate beside her.

“After you have eaten then,” Kaldir said noting her gaze. “I will not be staying in Imladris much longer.”

“Oh no, I have already eaten, this isn’t mine. Quite cold by now anyway I should think, or I’d offer it to you,” she said, realizing that happily Miss Benia would be granted a little more time to consider the offer extended her. “So you’re leaving then?”

“Hmm…” Kaldir affirmed. “I will accompany you to the Shire when I return,” he said sitting on the bench, so the plate was between them. Observing the hobbits edgy demeanor, he spoke again as he stretched out his long legs “Tell me, if this food is not for you, who is it for? Master Longholes?” he pursued, joking good-naturedly with the hobbit.

“Really now, sir, I’m sure he is capable of looking after himself here!” Gilly exclaimed, clearly offended by the implications. “It is for Miss Benia!” But she became all the more flustered wondering if this mention of her friend actually counted.

“Miss Nightshade,” he mused. “And yet the food is cold. Where is Miss Nightshade that you would be so uneasy speaking of her to me? Has she gone again to the Halls of Healing?” he asked carefully studying the hobbit though pale eyes.

Gilly could bear it no longer, “Gone to be at Mr. Dúlrain’s side?! Excuse me for being so bold, sir, but I can’t go on with much more of this, or I shall burst. And as your friend, I mean to set you straight while you still have time to make things right. Your talk this morning with Miss Benia couldn’t have come at a worse time. Yes, I haveheard about it. But what did you mean professing your affection for her after she had gotten her heart all tangled up with Mr. Dúlrain! Don’t you know you should have said something long before this! No she is not with Mr. Dúlrain, though I would not blame her if she were! And neither should you, if you would just think twice about it!” Gilly paused, regretting this unruly outpouring. “And if you were to tell me now that I can find my own way home, I would understand, entirely”, she added with a note of sadness. “But I just can’t abide to see you upset her so, even though she wished me to hold my tongue.”

Gilly saw that Kaldir steady gaze wavered ever so slightly, as if some thought had occurred to him. “Mrs. Banks, if she is not with you and not with Dúlrain, where is she?”

“That is just it, Sir. I don’t know! She found me in my room early this morning and went out for a walk just after that. She said she would come back, but hasn’t yet, and no one has seen her since morning. I’m getting worried Mr. Kaldir, really and truly worried. You don’t think she could have gone to the river to drown herself? I have heard of such things you know!”

[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

Kaldir listened to Gilly's outburst with a growing sense of misgiving. Not being particularly well-traveled in matters of the heart, he had been under the impression that his conversation with Benia that morning had gone rather well. True, she had seemed a bit troubled at their parting, but he had chalked it up to the suddenness of his proposal, rather than the circumstances. If she wished to reject his offer of marriage, all she had to do was tell him. He would accept her decision either way, whether it favored him or Dúlrain in the end. However, the knowledge that he had upset her so much that she would seek the counsel of Mrs. Banks so quickly and then vanish into thin air troubled him greatly.

“Drown herself!” he repeated, surprise and concern showing plainly on his usually impassive face. “Surely not. I can’t imagine Benia doing such a foolish thing... even to avoid me. But this notion of a walk does trouble me. The woods are far from safe. Did she say where she planned to go?”

Slowly, Gilly lowered her tatting into her lap, thinking hard. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think she did. She said she needed to take a little walk and think things over. I suggested a lovely garden they have not too far from the guest quarters...I think she went in that direction when she left, but, not having gone along with her, I really can’t say for certain.” Gilly paused, a haunted look coming into her kind eyes. “Oh, Mr. Kaldir, you don’t think anything awful has happened to her, do you?”

Kaldir shook his head. “I certainly hope not.” He rose to his feet and looked down at the hobbit lady with a gentle look in his eyes. “It is easy to lose oneself in a place like Imladris. Perhaps she has just found herself a quiet corner and lost track of the time.” He paused, his hand landing idly on the hilt of his sword. He gazed thoughtfully past Gilly toward the door that led in the direction of the gardens. “On the other hand, it is always best not to take anyone’s absence for granted. Just this morning I told Benia that I would sooner die than see any harm come to either one of you. To be the cause of it, would be unacceptable.”

When he glanced back down at Gilly and saw the fear in her eyes, Kaldir smiled encouragingly. “I shall be off to find her at once,” he said, kneeling down to look more directly into Gilly’s face. “Rest easy in your heart. After all, I am a tracker and a hunter. I should be able to find her fairly easily. If I have done her any harm with my talk of the future, then I shall do what I can to set things right with her again.” He rose again to his full height and, turning away, added under his breath, “Her happiness does matter more than mine.”

Leaving Gilly behind, Kaldir went to the garden that she had described. As he walked, he turned over the things Gilly had said in his mind: that he should have spoken for Benia sooner; that once Benia’s feelings for Dúlrain had taken shape, he should have stepped aside. If he really loved her, Benia’s happiness should matter more than his. Kaldir frowned darkly. Perhaps Gilly had been correct after all. His interpretation of the situation had been that since Dúlrain had yet to speak for Benia’s hand, he, Kaldir, was still free to do so. If she wished to reject him in favor of Dúlrain or anyone else, all she had to do was tell him. So, what was the problem? Why had she gotten so upset? He sighed. Apparently, he had no understanding whatsoever of women. That was the problem. Admittedly, he had never spent much time around them. He had not even had a mother around growing up, his own mother having died giving birth to him. He had no idea how their minds worked, he was discovering, particularly not in matters of the heart. He had never proposed marriage to anyone before, and, while he knew that his proposal to Benia had not been made under the most ideal of circumstances, it had certainly never occurred to him that she would be upset by it.

Walking through the garden, he thought about all of this as his eyes scanned the well-trodden path for any sign of Benia’s passing. He had noticed that morning in the Hall of Healing that she wore a pair of elven boots in place of her own, which made distinguishing her trail from that of the many elves who trafficked the garden nearly impossible. As a last resort, in the hope of eliminating the possibility that she had strayed outside, Kaldir deserted the path and went to the seldom-used gate that led out of the garden to the woods beyond. To his dismay, a single set of fresh footprints showed that a woman had passed that way. Kaldir slipped through the gate and followed the faint trail of boot prints into the woods.

For a long distance, the woman - Benia, perhaps?- followed a straight path through the trees, turning only with the turns of the trail. Her strides were long and steady, without any pause or hesitation, like a woman in a hurry... or a woman deep in thought. Kaldir paused to examine a low-hanging branch that hung across the way. A grim smile touched his lips as he found what he had both hoped and dreaded to find: a single long, black hair caught in the rough bark. Her head had apparently brushed the branch as she stooped to pass. He drew the hair from its place of rest and pulled it between his fingers. It did look like hers. Tucking it away into his pocket, Kaldir passed under the branch and continued along the way, his eyes studying the ground. Rounding a sharp bend, he stopped abruptly.

A second set of elven boots had joined the first. A second woman.

“No...Benia...” he murmured, his hand reaching up to touch the scarred side of his face. His pale eyes narrowed as he deciphered the tale told by the, now, two sets of prints. Benia had been seized from behind by the owner of the second pair of boots. Whoever it was had forced her to the ground, held her there briefly, no doubt to tie her wrists, thought Kaldir, then dragged her to her feet again. The second woman had then forced Benia onward, deeper into the forest. Kaldir drew his sword. There was only one elf who would do such a thing to such a gentle creature as Benia Nightshade, if the footprints and the strand of hair did indeed belong to her.

For a fleeting instant, he felt a familiar rush of memory and muzzy thinking as the horrors of Mordor sought to free themselves from the dungeon in the bottom of his mind, but he forced them back with a steely determination. If Naiore had Benia, then he must go forward. He must think clearly. With all of his senses alert, Kaldir tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword and followed the trail where it led, northward, through the valley. Finally, at the base of a steep and well-concealed trail that twisted upward out of the valley to the ridge above, he stopped. The two females had stopped there as well, briefly, before continuing onward.

Catching sight of something shiny in the grass, winking at him in the afternoon sunlight, Kaldir bent and closed his fingers around a short length of silver chain. It was decorated with tiny silver spangles. Kaldir recognized it at once. His face grew hard as he tucked it into his pocket alongside the single strand of Benia’s hair. There was no doubt now who had made those tracks. His only hope was that he might get to her before it was too late.

[Ealasaide]

Naiore

As Naiore pushed her captive into the camp high on the ridge above Imladris, the southern woman stumbled and fell. Barrold Ferny turned from where he had been tightening the cinch strap on the saddle of the bounty hunter’s gray horse. Naiore watched as his close-set eyes first widened in surprise then narrowed suspiciously.

"That ain’t Vanwe!" he objected harshly. He straightened, eying the southern woman with a mixture of irritation and, Naiore noticed, appraisal.

"How observant of you to notice, Barrold," she replied coldly. "Pick her up. If she pleases you, you may have her when she has fulfilled her usefulness to me. In the meantime, tie her to that tree." With a nod, Naiore indicated a scrubby tree near the fire pit, that stood well-removed from the boundaries of the camp. "We will soon be having company."

"Who?" asked Ferny. He reached out and grabbed the southern woman roughly around the elbow and dragged her to her feet. When Naiore did not answer immediately, he spat at the ground. "With all them elves around, and orcs, it’d be nice to know who’s coming for dinner," he grumbled. "Wouldn’t it, sweet’eart?" he added into the southern woman’s ear, a wide and rather lecherous grin creeping over his features.

The southern woman looked at him sharply and tried to jerk away, but Ferny’s grip was too tight on her arm. He pulled her back toward him, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"That’s enough," quipped Naiore. "Tie her to the tree. Make sure the bonds are secure."

For a brief instant, Ferny glared at Naiore, then dropped his eyes and did as he was told. "Later, sweet’eart," he muttered to the southern woman, pulling the ropes tight around her torso.

Naiore watched with detachment, letting her mind drift, searching, searching, searching... The bounty hunter would come. It was just a matter of time. She took a seat on a large stone, curling her long legs up under her, and waited. As the minutes passed, Barrold Ferny completed the preparations for their departure, his eyes slipping again and again in the direction of the exotic dark-haired woman tied to the tree. While this woman was no elf, Naiore could tell that Barrold Ferny had already decided her an apt substitute for Vanwe as part of his reward. She smiled to herself. Scoundrels like Barrold were so easy to control, to satisfy... so base. He was vastly different from Kaldir, who had been so interestingly difficult. She had enjoyed the challenge that the bounty hunter had presented back in Mordor when he had lived or died at her whim. It would have been enjoyable to joust with him again, but this time, she knew she did not have the time for games. She would use the leverage that she had in the person of the southern woman against him. And she would play no games. Finally, at last, Naiore felt the presence she had been waiting for. She sensed him faintly at first, on the far reaches of her consciousness, but it quickly grew stronger. The bounty hunter was coming.

Naiore turned to Barrold Ferny. "He comes," she said sharply.

"Who?" grunted Ferny yet again.

"An old friend," answered Naiore with a smile. "I believe you would be familiar with him in his professional capacity. A certain bounty hunter? It seems that we have his lady."

"Ah, crikey..."

"Be on your guard, Barrold." Naiore slid down from her perch on the stone and took up a position near the bound woman, her dagger in her hand.


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

Benia

"No..." Benia whispered. She twisted her hands behind her, feeling the coarse rope bite into wrists. An hour or so earlier, she had been upset with him and willing to believe any number of evil things about Kaldir, but now as he approached the trap that Naiore Dannan had set for him using her as the bait, Benia could only see him as the man who had delivered her and Gilly and Dúlrain safely into Imladris, and who had only a short while earlier held her hands in his and asked her to become his wife. She cast a fearful glance over her shoulder in the direction of the Ravenner. He must not be allowed to fall into such evil hands. Knowing that her life would be forfeit if she dared even to attempt to thwart the evil elf’s plans, Benia strained against her bindings. She came to a decision. As far as she could see, her life had already been forfeited.

"KALDIR!" she screamed at the top of her voice. "NO! SHE’S -" A sledgehammer-like blow struck Benia full in the face, cutting off her words, and plunging her into a state of semi-consciousness. Benia slumped against her ropes. Slowly, she struggled back toward consciousness. As her amber eyes fluttered open once more, she saw that the Ravenner had not moved, still standing like a woman of ice off to Benia’s side, her eyes distant and cold. Barrold Ferny grinned down from directly in front of her.

"Now, sweet’eart," he said in an oily tone. "That wasn’t too smart." He pulled a filthy handkerchief out of his pocket and shoved it deep into her mouth, snorting with laughter as she gagged and struggled to breathe. "I’ll hit you again if I have to..."

"Hush," ordered Naiore. Her clear gaze scanned the perimeters of the camp. Slowly, she stepped up behind Benia, raising the naked dagger to the bound woman’s throat.

Ferny stepped back, glancing around nervously.

"Greetings, dúnedan," purred Naiore in the direction of a thick patch of underbrush. "It has been a long time. You haven’t forgotten me, have you?"

When only silence answered her, Naiore laughed softly, a silvery sound that was both chilling and beautiful at once. Benia felt a trill of shivers race down her spine.

"It’s no use pretending that you are not here, my friend," she continued. "You are quite near. I can feel your presence. Show yourself that we might speak civilly."

Benia stared with horror as there was a soft rustling and Kaldir stepped into the clearing, his sword drawn. Still, he said nothing.

"Very good." Naiore raised the tip of her dagger to touch Benia’s face. Behind her, Benia heard Barrold Ferny draw his sword. "Now drop your sword," the elf ordered Kaldir, ignoring the man behind her.

Kaldir shook his head, his pale eyes filled with bitter loathing. "I cannot do that."

"You forget that I have something you value." Naiore’s blade traced gently down Benia’s cheek. "Shall I carve her up slowly? Would that suit you better? Perhaps I shall start with her eyes." The point of the dagger pricked the smooth skin just to the outside of Benia’s right eye. The muscles twitched along Kaldir’s jaw. Scarcely breathing, Benia watched as Barrold Ferny crept along the outside edge of the camp, moving himself into position behind Kaldir. She did not dare move as the tip of dagger pressed deeper into her flesh. She looked again at Kaldir‘s eyes and saw not loathing now, but pain.

"Give up your weapons and she lives," said Naiore. "I give you my word, my friend, but defy me and she shall die a slow and torturous death." Again, the chilling laugh. "I’m sure you know well what things I am capable of."

A long silence passed as the four of them stood motionless, in a temporary stale mate. Unable to speak, Benia prayed within her heart that Kaldir turn and walk away, leaving her to her fate. She had been foolish to wander off when she knew full well the danger that surrounded them. She deserved whatever happened to her. But he did not. Closing her eyes, Benia waited for the cut of the Ravenner’s dagger. Her heart sank as, instead, she heard the soft clink of steel striking gravel. Kaldir had dropped his sword.

"Search him and bind him!" barked Naiore to Ferny, withdrawing her dagger.

Benia opened her eyes in time to see Barrold Ferny kick Kaldir’s sword out of the bounty hunter’s reach. He sheathed his own blade and, fetching a rope, tied Kaldir's arms behind him, once at the wrist and again just above the elbows, pulling his broad shoulders back at an awkward angle. He attached a second rope, for additional control, around Kaldir's throat in the shape of a noose. Then, as Naiore watched, Ferny searched him for weapons, adding a small pile of daggers and small throwing knives to the sword on the ground. At last, Ferny nodded.

"He's clean."

Naiore stepped away from Benia and sheathed her dagger, returning to her place atop the stone. "Bring him to me."

As Ferny reached out to push the bounty hunter in the direction of Naiore, Kaldir, who had been enduring all of this in a smoldering silence, raised his head and gave Ferny threatening glare. Instinctively, Ferny dropped his hand and took a step backward. Scowling, he cinched up on the noose around Kaldir's throat instead. Naiore stilled him with a raised hand.

"What is it?" asked Naiore, her hand falling again toward the hilt of her dagger. "I thought we had a deal - your life for hers."

Benia watched as Kaldir nodded. "We do," he said gravely. "But I would like to speak with her first."

Naiore paused for an instant, then nodded her agreement. "Very well, but make it brief," she said impatiently. "You and I have much to do." Turning her gaze toward Ferny, she continued, "Take the rag out of her mouth. I don't think she will be screaming again."

Barrold Ferny did as he was told and, at a glance from Naiore, retreated a short distance away, still keeping a firm grip on the rope around Kaldir's throat.

"Why didn't you leave me?" Benia whispered as Kaldir stepped within a pace of her. "You should have left me."

Kaldir merely shook his head and bent to rest his scarred cheek against her soft hair. "She doesn't want you. She wants me," he said softly. "This way, I can perhaps gain you some time. Dúlrain will find you. I am sure of it."

"What will she do to you?"

Again, Kaldir shook his head. He started to say something else, but was cut off as Barrold Ferny, at a nod from Naiore, jerked sharply on the rope, causing Kaldir's head to snap violently backward. As he was dragged away, Benia heard his last words to her, uttered so softly that she nearly missed them:

"I'm sorry."

Unaware that she was even doing it, Benia made a soft keening sound in her throat as she watched him be forced down on to his knees in front of the Ravenner. Smiling serenely, Naiore uncoiled her long long legs and slid down from her rock. Her slender fingers stroked the bounty hunter's scarred face.