The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Nerindel]

Dúlrain

Dúlrain Searched the house for Benia walking as if treading a shadowy path of dreams detached from the reality of true happiness by the weight of what he had now convinced himself was the only solution to the war that waged within his heart and soul. His brother had crawled with every ounce of strength he possessed from the pitched blackness of his tormentors prison and now stood precariously on a precipice, one push and he again could fall into darkness, Rauthain had all but warned him that it was so! But ahead lay life, love, friendship all things forgotten and stripped from his brother by the twisted hands of fate that had so cruelly delivered him into the hands of Naiore Dannan. Who was he to denying his brother theses things, did he not deserve this chance more than he, had he not suffered enough! His loyalty and conscious threw its weight heavily into the pitched battle.

Pausing momentarily he closed his eyes remembering the softness of Benia’s gentle touch as his heart countered his conscious in a heartbreakingly concise strike. He breathed deeply remembering the sweetness of her scent which lingered tantalisingly in the southern woman’s wake, beckoning him to stay with her forever. As he opened his eyes and continued up the winding stairs he was remained of her bravery and the fierce loyalty she had shown her friends, the strength and being of who and what she stood for and his undying love of that strength waged against the tide of his love and loyalty for his brother and so it continued until with clarity he saw that Benia was already bound to Kaldir, a small slither of thread that held him in place, a stabling presence that called his brother from the brink of darkness, without which he might slip and tumble back into the bleakness of his internal prison!

Taking a deep and steadying breath he realised that he again stood before the door of his quandary, his hand reached out to touch the dark wood as he pictured the woman he believed within. Her gentle smile and the loving warmth of her amber eyes filled his mind and for an instance he almost gave in to his hearts desire.

“I’m Sorry!” he whispered letting his hand slip from the door and turning . There was no point in upsetting her any more than he had too, he would leave with the others and not return, Kaldir would return and together they would escort Mrs banks to her home and with time he would be forgotten and she and Kaldir would find happiness together, all that was left for him to too was insure that his brother lived to return. With a resigned determination and a heavy heart he started to leave, but stopped as the door behind him slowly opened, he turned expecting to see the warm smile of Benia but was surprised to see it was the elven attendant.

“Good day Master Dúlrain it is good to see you up and about,” she smiled pleasantly, “If your looking for miss Nightshade she is not here at present, I thought she might still be with you,” she said her warm smile broadening, but seeing Dulrain frown pensively she asked him what was wrong.

“it may be nothing,” he said shaking his head thoughtfully, “but I have just come from looking for the lady downstairs, perhaps I just missed her,” he shrugged.

“No Master Dúlrain, I have been here all morning and have seen no other guest but Mrs Banks, Even Master Kaldir’s room has been untouched, oh no wait Master Rauthain was here sometime ago speaking with Mrs Banks, I remember noting that she looked a little trouble once he departed."

Dúlrain’s frown deepen slightly, "Do you know were the Hobbit lady went?" he asked.

“I’m sorry after the ranger left she went down stair, where she went from there I cannot say,” the lady answered apologetically.

Dúlrain nodded, thanking the elven lady for her help and left to look for Gilly if anyone knew were Benia might be it would be her. As he searched for the hobbit woman he asked those he passed if they had seen either of the two women, while none had seen the southern woman, several remembered seeing the hobbit woman heading out towards the gardens and this is where he found her, her head intently searching left and right.

“Mrs Banks!” he called gently wishing not to startle her, she turned and he saw clearly the worry and concern etched on her face.

“Oh! Master Dúlrain,” She cried as he crouched down before her. “I’m ever so worried, its Miss Benia …” she paused seeing her concern mirrored in his grey eyes, but he gentle prompted her to go on.

“Oh! Dulrain she went for a walk alone this morning and has not been seen back since, Masters Kaldir and Rauthain have both gone to look for her and neither have returned, what could have happened too them!” she sighed. Dúlrain followed her gaze beyond the gardens his own concerns and fear racing in his mind. “why would she have gone alone, it just does not seem like her to such a thing?” he whispered not understanding, but noting Gilly’s silence he turned to look at her.

“Oh Mister Dúlrain, she was so confused, feeling how she does about you and all!” Dúlrain frowned still not fully understanding.

“It was Mister Kaldir, He proposed to her.” the hobbit woman whispered sympathetically.

Dulrain dropped to his knees in shock, feeling as though his heart had just been rent from his chest, a numb constricting feeling caught his breath and his chest tightened.

“Oh Mister Dúlrain I am sorry, but I am so worried what if something has happened to her, perhaps I should have gone with her but she said that she needed some time to think! surely the others should have found her by now?"

Hearing the fear and worry in the hobbit woman’s voice he swallowed his pain and gently turned Gilly to face him. “I promise I will never let anything happen to her, but I must ask you something, it may be important so think hard.” he said levelling his eyes gently with the hobbit woman, Gilly nodded.

“Did you notice if Benia still wore the whistle that I gave to Kaldir in Bree?” Gilly thought hard for a moment then nodded, “Yes, yes she did!” she replied hopefully.

“Good, then there is hope, if anything has happened she at least has a way to call for help.” he nodded encouragingly. “Gilly I need you to find Amandur, let him know what has happened, Tell him to continue on we will catch him up as soon as Benia and the others are found.”

Gilly was about to protest and argue that she was going to go with him , when he sympathetically took her hands, “I promise I will find her and the others, but if something has happened it may be dangerous, I know and understand your loyalty to your friend, but I need for you to stay here and let Amandur and the others know what has happened.” She was silent for a moment then nodded reluctantly.

“Now go, I will find them!” He urged, Gilly nodded and hurried in the direction of the rangers quarters. Rising Dúlraian turned and went in search of the others. Finding the dusty prints of Kaldir and Rauthain he followed them into the forest that edged the elven refuge, he paused in horror as the tracks of the others told their terrible tale. With a sharp whistle he looked backwards towards the stables and after only a moment he heard the heavy hoofs of Dir Galloping towards him, grasping the reigns he lead the horse as he intently followed the tracks further into the forest, He had to find them! She had to be safe!

[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

As Kaldir was dragged away from Benia by the rope around his neck, he could hear her make a soft keening sound in her throat. The sound alone would have broken his heart if he had been in any other situation, but under the current circumstances, it ripped at his soul as well. He knew that he would never see her again, at least not with the same eyes. To an outside observer, it might have seemed odd that he had accepted Naiore's deal so quickly, but Kaldir knew that, evil though she was, her word was as good as a bond. Benia would not be harmed... so long as he held up his end of the bargain.

At a sharp blow from Ferny, Kaldir stumbled and fell, landing heavily on his knees before the Ravenner. It was a posture that he had sworn he would never again occupy. The touch of her fingers against his face felt like the touch of death. Out of an ancient habit, Kaldir averted his face.

“Here we are again,” said Naiore crisply. “We have much to do, my friend, so I will remind you but once. Do not defy me. I no longer have the time for games. Remember... if you resist me, I shall have Barrold cut out your lady’s eyes one by one. Do we have an understanding?”

When Kaldir nodded, she smiled. “Good. Then look at me.” Finally, reluctantly, Kaldir did as he was told. His body stiffened in pain as Naiore forced her way into his psyche. All of the demons that he had sought so long to keep at bay came rushing forth, yet he did nothing to push them away from him or to stop Naiore. The mental walls he had once been able to push up against Naiore’s invading consciousness lay dormant. He let her in, let her do her work unopposed. If he wished to save Benia, he had no choice. He merely endured the pain as Naiore’s sharp mind slashed through his memory and conscience like a scythe through dry grass. In the end, nothing remained of him but his fearsome fighting skills and the intense determination to use them for her defense. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. Naiore smiled and stepped back. Kaldir was gone.

Only emptiness remained. Emptiness and death. The husk that was once Kaldir, slumped into his bindings. Inside his head, Naiore continued to speak as outside of him she began to untie his bindings with her own hands. “There are others,” she said. “They are coming. It is your job, my friend, to stop them. Kill them. Do not let them pass. I will keep your lady safe for you while you do your work for me. When you have killed as many of them as you can, make your escape. You will find us in Gladden Fields. Your lady and I will wait for you there. Remember. Kill any you encounter.” He said nothing as her silken voice droned on and on. His mind in tatters, he merely stood there and accepted his weapons back from her hands. The only thoughts he was able to grasp were her face, her voice, and the content of her repeating commands. He must kill them. Kill them all.

“Go now,” said Naiore. Wiping the blood from under his nose, Kaldir nodded and walked away to do as he had been instructed. The farther away he got from Naiore as he moved back in the direction of Imladris, the more he became aware of his surroundings, but it was not with the same awareness that he once had. It was the awareness that he had once thought belonged only to the world of nightmares. Even the faintest sounds rang out at him with intense clarity, every detail of the woods shone as though outlined in black. He wiped again at the blood that ran from his nose. Nothing connected.

Reaching the base of the trail that Naiore had used to get in and out of the vale, Kaldir hesitated, listening. Someone was approaching down the path. Drawing his dagger, he concealed it behind his leg and waited. Before long, an old ranger appeared, moving slowly between the trees, his attention focused on the ground. Tracking. Like the silent hunter that he was, Kaldir waited, his dagger at the ready.

Seeing him at last, the old ranger quickened his step. “There you are!” he exclaimed, a look of relief appearing across his weathered face as he approached the waiting hunter. “I was beginning to think we had lost...” His words trailed off in confusion as Kaldir neither moved nor responded, his face expressionless and cold.

Before the old ranger could say anything further, arm himself, or even fall back a pace, Kaldir seized his opportunity. He stepped forward and with a single fluid motion, sank the blade of his dagger into the unprotected torso of the older man, pushing it in to the hilt and upward between the man’s ribcage to his heart. Feeling the ranger’s hot blood gush over his hand, Kaldir merely twisted the blade. As the old ranger began to go limp and fall, dying, Kaldir let him drop to the ground. Puling the dagger free, he wiped it clean on the shoulder of the man’s cloak.

Then, for a flashing instant, Kaldir hesitated. A fragment of memory raced across his detached mind. This man. Laughing... He knew him. Rauthain?. Equally quickly the moment was gone. Someone else was approaching through the trees. He could hear the soft clop of a horse’s hooves. Stepping over the dying man, Kaldir sheathed his dagger and drew his sword.

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

Naiore

Naiore watched from the center of the camp as Kaldir's tall figure disppeared from view. She felt a combination of triumph and disappointment that she had gained such an easy victory over him in the end, but all mortal men had their weaknesses. Conquering Kaldir had simply been a matter of finding his weakness. Naiore glanced over at the black-haired woman tied to the tree. Once she had found that weakness, the rest had been easy. The pity was that she had not had the time to do a proper job of exploring and corrupting his mind. In her haste, she had been forced to make do with a shallow destruction of him, nothing more. Too bad! What a fearsome weapon he would have made had she been able to turn him completely to her will without destroying him as part of the bargain. It was such a waste.

With Kaldir gone to carry out her bidding against what elves and rangers he could find, Naiore turned her attention toward the more immediate business of her own well-being. It was then that she noticed for the first time the low-pitched keening of the southern woman. Turning to Barrold Ferny, she snapped, "Shut her up."

"Gladly," muttered Ferny. He stepped up to the bound woman and raised a hand to strike her a fierce backhand across the face, when she fell abruptly silent. Ferny chuckled and tickled her under the chin instead. "Smart move, sweet'eart," he said pleasantly. "You an' I are going to get along just fine. Don't start up again or I'll rattle your teeth for real."

With that, Ferny dropped her a slow wink, to which the woman responded with silence and a glare of pure hatred. Ferny cawed with hoarse laughter. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see what Naiore's response had been to his moment of fun, his laughter trailing off as he saw that Naiore had slung her pack on to her shoulders and strapped her curved swords into place.

"Wot!" he exclaimed. "Are we leavin', then?" He nodded in the direction the bounty hunter had gone. "Wot about 'im?"

"He will not be coming back." Naiore smiled coolly. "He will be either killed outright or captured and executed for his sins. We needn't worry ourselves with him any further."

Ferny's jaw dropped open, exposing a mouthful of black teeth. "So's we just leave 'im. 'Is knowing where we are and everything? Wot if 'e gets away? They can follow 'im, right? Right to us."

Naiore's beautiful gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Perhaps it would be better to be sure of the bounty hunter's demise. If he survived the contact with the elves and rangers at all, she knew well that he would be wounded and vulnerable and, consequently, of very little further use to her. She nodded. "Then you may stay behind," she answered smoothly. "Kill him yourself. I'll leave you the horse. When you know the job is done, you may rejoin us quickly by horseback."

"Wot about 'er?" demanded Ferny, gesturing to Benia with his thumb.

"She pleases you?"

"She ain't bad."

"Then she comes with me," answered Naiore. "For safe-keeping. When you return, you may have her to do with as you please." Naiore turned and drew her dagger. With a quick, fluid movement, she cut the rope that bound the southern woman to the tree. Her wrists still tied, Benia Nightshade fell away from the tree, careful to keep her distance from Naiore. The elven woman laughed. "Yes, it is wise to fear me," she said, sensing the dread and hatred that now rolled off the woman in waves. With her dagger, Naiore pointed toward a path out of the campsite that would eventually lead into the south. "Now go. Remember I will only be a step behind."

"How will I find you?" called Ferny as the two females began to walk swiftly out of camp, Benia first with Naiore tightly on her heels.

"Make for Gladden Fields."

[Everdawn]

“Right, the horses” muttered Avanill after Rauthain. It was the first time he had thought about his own horse which he had left in Bree, and for the first time in his life he wished he had Amathalay there with him, still the elves had offered their services and a horse of the elves would in no doubt work harder, be faster and stronger than his mother’s old horse. His mother… Avanill paused on the path to the stables intent on fulfilling Rauthain’s request. He had completely forgotten that he would have to tell her about this. He swore under his breath and grinned nervously. “Just think” he said “Its self preservation also.”

Being around the ranger’s quarters that day had unnerved Avanill, which anyone who knew him would say that that was near impossible because he wore a frown for quite some time. He now knew what part he had to play in all of this. And anyone would have thought this enough to settle any man uncertain of his fete, but not Avanill. Sure, all he had to do was hit Naiore with a dart, but getting within the vicinity would be hard enough, not to mention shielding himself from her mind games.

Wandering thoughtfully to the stables a thought struck him. He knew a potion which would cloud the mind to an almost waking dream. If he could find some way to dilute it he may be able to inject her himself. “Damn!” he cried out loud, scaring one of the horses. He realised that his satchel was still with the other rangers. “Thankyou for making this easy for me.” He said sarcastically upwards as if talking to the roof. As if in answer a lantern fell from the roof narrowly missing the young man who had jumped out of the way to avoid being hit, he landed lightly upon the hay but it was what rolled out of a pocket that surprised him the most.

Rolling away from him in the hay were two tiny phials, both light blue in colour. Avanill’s face lit up. He looked at a horse who had peered its head over its stall. “I hadn’t even thought of that one” he admitted picking himself up, grinning. “That one will come in handy.”

Once he had all horses saddled he took them in turn to the front of the rangers quarters where he had prepared his own belongings and sat down on the steps and waited.

[Nerindel]

Vanwe

In another room in the house two elves packed in solemn silence, all that had needed to be said had been said, concerns aired, fears confronted until father and daughter had come to a solemn understanding. Vanwe emptied the contents of the pouch that Lespheria had returned to her onto the bed, lifting the crumpled notes scrawled in her hand she read over them sombrely, a silent anger spread over her as she saw the depth of her denial in the words she herself had written, so long ago it now seemed but a distant memory, a fleeting fantasy! Screwing up the notes she tossed them defiantly onto the cold black coals of the unlit fire and then turning back her deep blue eyes fell on the dark twisted leather, that served as a reminder of what lay behind. Golden strands of fine elven hair had become caught up in the leather braiding, the hair of her mother that Hanasian had given her, the irony struck her as she picked it up and held it delicately in her hands. It had been Naiore who had abandoned her , the Harad camp a prison of her mothers design were she could be left and forgotten. Closing her hand around the twisted leather she felt her fathers concerned gaze on her, putting the truth of her past back into her pouch, with the little copper she possessed she turned and smiled in his direction, but his gaze had already dropped. Fastening her pack and tying her pouch securely to the elven belt she now wore, she walked up and laid a comforting hand on her fathers shoulder.

“It will be ok,” she whispered softly.

“You can’t possibly know that, You do not know her as I do!” Menecin replied after a moments silence, turning, his eyes studied her gravely, “I do not know if I can protect you?” he admitted regretfully.

Vanwe nodded smiling sympathetically. “I know the danger we face, but you do understand why we must go, don’t you?” She asked looking up at him.

Menecin nodded and took his daughter into his arms “We need this to end!” he whispered, affectionately kissing the top of her head. Vanwe remain in the warmth of her fathers embrace comforted and secure like a small child for several moments before gently pulling away.

“I’m so glad I found you,” she whispered as she turned and reached for her pack, her father smiled down on her but a small glimmer of fear and sadness still shone in his eyes as he too took up his pack and adjusted his weapons. Vanwe slipped the small knife into her belt then they were both ready to leave.

They met Léspheria in the hallway and together the three elves made their way to the stables, where Léspheria was relieved to see her white mare had found her way safely into the care of the elven stable masters, Amandur’s dark charger was also there stabled in the next stall. Léspheria then spoke quietly with one of the elven stablemen who quickly left, returning a short while later with two more horses fully tacked and then handing the reigns to the two stunned elves he turned back to speak with Léspheria. Vanwe with her fathers help fastened her pack to the saddle of the grey mare she had been given, it was a beautiful creature and reminded her of devrion and the horses back at the inn, wondering sadly if she would ever see them again she adjusting the stirrups on the saddle and looked up to see Léspheria approach leading a white mare and a dark and noble looking charger that she recognised as Amandur’s mount.

“We will wait here for the others they should not be long,” Léspheria said as she loosely hitched both horses to a nearby post. Vanwe nodded as she stroked the long face of her mare, while Menecin watched intently the sway of the trees in the forest beyond.

[Nerindel]

Dúlrain

As the trail steadily became clearer Dúlrain realised that at least Rauthain was not far ahead of him, he was just bending to examine the trail again when he heard the familiar voice of the older ranger ahead, abandoning the prints he quickened his pace in the direction of the sound, hoping, no praying that all his fears were miss placed and Benia and Kaldir were safe with the older ranger!

Kaldir sword drawn was the first sight that greeted him as he stepped into the clearing. Instinctively believing danger to be near he let go of Dir’s reigns and drew his own weapon. Giving a cursory glance around the clearing to determine were the perceived danger lay his eyes fell on the still body behind his brothers feet a greying head slowly turned to one side and Rauthain’s grey eyes stared blankly out at him in silent warning that was lost on the unsuspecting ranger. Stepping back apace in horror Dúlrain again let his eyes search the clearing for signs of the rangers attackers.

“What happened, where is ….” he began, stopping in disbelief as his eyes fell on the blood soaked hands and sleeves of his brother, raising his sword defensively he stepped back apace.

“What has happened here?” he asked refusing to believe what his eyes were clearly showing him.

Kaldir did not respond instead he advanced with lightning quick steps, shocked by his brothers sudden attack he barely managed to bring his sword up in time to fend of the decisive blow of Kaldir‘s sword,

“What are you doing! Why are you doing this?” he questioned pushing off the attack and quickly side stepping to avoid the next, but still Kaldir did not respond.

Defending blow after blow he desperately tried to get through to his brother, to understand what was going on. The ringing of their weapons echoed through the forest. Their swords again locked and as they push heavily against each other, their eyes met and Dúlrain gasped in silent horror, his bothers cold empty icy eyes stared back at him devoid of all emotion or recognition.

“She was here!” He strained through gritted teeth, “And she has Benia!” he concluding knowing that she would be the only reason that his brother would give in to this enemy, a great sorrow and sadness swept over him, but still Kaldir said nothing, the battle the only thing driving him and in that instant Dúlrain knew that his brother was lost.

“Noooooooo!” he screamed finally pushing off the press of Kaldir’s attack. He stepped back, but the person that was once his brother would give him no respite and came at him again, this time though Dúlrain did not just parry the blow meant to kill him as he had been doing up until now, he took the offensive and pressed his attacker back. Kaldir was gone but Dúlrain was determined that Naiore Dannan would not have what was left to use as her mindless puppet, even if it meant severing those strings himself! With bitter irony he realised that this was the very thing that Rauthain had been trying to warn and prepare him for before, but he would not hear it and now it was too late for the older ranger.

As the battle ensued Dúlrain came to realise that although Kaldir was gone his fighting prowess had been left intact, his careful feigns time and time again repelled by the one person with the knowledge to do so, again and again he was forced to defend as the empty shell of his brother countered with precise precision. Anyone else would have been finished by now but Dúlrain knew his brother, their fighting style was one in the same only Kaldir’s years as a bounty hunter utilising more unorthodox techniques gave him the upper hand.

As Kaldir again gained the advantage and brought his sword down to bear, Dúlrain quickly raised his sword to defend realising too late the feign, expecting a dagger he turned to avoid the cutting blow, but instead received a boot to his now exposed, already wounded side.

“That’s new!” he gasped in shock as he stumbled backwards, dropping to one knee as the sharp pain shot through his side. Forcefully biting back the pain he raised his sword to met the downward thrust of his attacker. Knocking it wide he quickly rose, stepped back to gain his bearings. He now leaned heavily, his sword raised he knew he would have to end this soon or he would not survive to save his brother from Naiore’s grasp. Kaldir was the better fighter he had always known this, but he could not leave his brother this way! Straining against the pain he surged forward, but unhindered Kaldir easily avoided the desperate strike and their sword clashed again.

“Please, brother fight her, you did it before, you can do it again! You are stronger than this!” He cried in a futilely desperate attempt to reach some part of the man that was his friend and brother. Pulling away again, he caught out of the corner of his eye the flash of Kaldir’s sword raised to deliver a killing blow that he realise he would not be able to counter in time, in that instant knowing that death was upon him he turned and swung with all his strength, if he was to die he would take his brother with him!

“Forgive me!” He screamed through tears as his blade cut deep into Kaldir exposed side, Rib bones crunched under the force and Dúlrain pulled sharply upwards as he drew the sword from his brothers body. Realising instantly that Kaldir had not delivered his blow, he looked up, to his abject horror he saw the flash of recognition in his brothers eyes, he had hesitated!

“Oh Eru!” Dúlrain gasped his sword slipping from his shaken hands, “What have I done?”

As Kaldir slumped forward Dúlrain dropped to his knees to catch him then lowering him to the ground he futilely attempted to staunch the flow of blood pouring from the deadly wound, the wound he had delivered. As the warm life giving blood of his brother soaked his hands he could not help but think that Naiore had in some way won two victories this day, even if she herself did not realise it.

“I am sorry brother it seems that I am destined to fail you always!” he wept in despair, realising that his efforts to stop the flow of blood was useless. He stared in horror and disgust at his own blood soaked hands unable to bring himself to look at his brother for fear of what he might see.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Rauthain

Rauthain’s body stiffened with pain at the blow, and he looked questioningly at Kaldir for a moment before his legs gave way and he collapsed heavily where he had stood. Another surge soon claimed his full attention as he lay awkwardly there. The grimace was brief, cut short, for it left in its wake a calm stillness that he had never known. No longer concerned with the Ravennor or Kaldir, or indeed with any of the workings of Middle-earth, but having a vague notion that in being so wronged, his own guilt equaled, it was receding from him. So satisfied, he felt no anger toward Kaldir, but rather a great relief that over shadowed his thready perplexity.

Truly he had lent the gloom dominating his existence a goodly part of their bulk. And as his life now subsided the shadows also fled from him, driven out by thoughts of those brightest moments of his life, of son and wife.

Opening his eyes, the ranger became aware that a haze had descended upon him and heard too a loud drone in his ears. He imagined his son to be before him in the mist, and turning his head, remembered with sudden clarity that some danger was nearby. At last he recognized the dim outline was Dúlrain. But now, growing confused, he lay on sodden ground with overwhelming pain trying to move. And groaning he thought himself struck down by a pool at Raven Falls, his hand trailing in the strangely warm waters, as the mist of the falls thickly gathered round. All that could be heard was the imagined roar of the river as it plunged down over steep rock, and the sound of clashing steel close by. Closing his eyes again, he found that his grasp on life grew weak, and he willed himself to remember his wife receiving him home, as she had may times after long separation. There with his son at her side. He longed to catch them in his arms, but found strangely he could no longer lift them. A thick veil closed in about him and felt as if he were now floating on the surface of the Mitheithel, the rushing water stilled into utter silence, quieted along with the breath of his body.


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

Gilly

Truly, what had she been thinking? This whole mess was her fault, once you got down to it. If only she had gone with Benia she wouldn’t be running down this path to deliver a message and three people wouldn’t have had to gone off to search for her friend. But of course Benia would have strayed from the garden! It had been days since her friend had allowed herself the freedom of the outdoors. If only she had accompanied her, she could have talked a little sense into Benia, kept her from anything rash. But now after many slow hours had passed, she had to let Amandur know what was keeping Dúlrain, before she fell to pieces, as she felt she would. Tears were not far off.

Quickly drawing up to the rangers’ quarters, she saw sitting on the steps that the same tan and dark haired man who had been in their company a few days earlier as they left the battlefield. He nodded to her, and she nodded in return, but approaching the steps, she did not stop to greet him as would have been proper. She felt too pressed for time. Instead, she mounted the first step with determination, and swinging his knee around to make way, he watched her in silence as she passed by, to knock on the door behind him.

“Who you looking for?” came a voice at her back. Gilly turned around to meet the deep blue gaze leveled at her, and thought to herself that it may not be wise to say too much to this stranger. She still hadn’t the presence of mind to sift her words. “If it is Amandur your after, he’s not here, nor Rauthain.” He lifted his chin toward two saddled horses waiting close by. “I am expecting them myself at any time, though I can’t say when they might show up.”

“You are going with them then?” Gilly ventured timidly, looking at the horses.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he said standing up, to tower over the hobbit. “When ever Kaldir and Rauthain return.”

“Why, where have they gone?” Gilly asked, shrewdly trying to gauge just how much this fellow knew.

“Rauthain had said he was off to find Kaldir. And Kaldir? Well the old man said he was looking for your Miss Nightshade,” Avanill said dusting himself off.

“I see. Then you know as much as I, and they have not returned yet,” the hobbit said, relieved at least to find that Rauthain trusted this man, leastways enough to tell him such things, and an idea began forming in her head. Let these rangers, these men, look for her friend if they will. But she would not stand idly by. She could not. She had come too far, all three of them had for that matter. Hadn’t she found her friend when she disappeared from the Forsaken Inn? She could not longer fret alone doing nothing but tatting in her anxiety, and trusting Benia’s safety to others.

“Sir,” she said her eyes beginning to glisten from the worry that weighed down her heart, spurring her decision. “I’ve been given an important message from Mr. Dúlrain to tell Mr. Amandur. It is urgent, mind you, but truly, I have no time to lose here. Would you be willing to help me and give it to him for me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “But as I said, I expect him soon.”

“Unfortunately, I hadn’t figured out just what needs doing until just now, and have dawdled too long. It can’t afford a moment’s delay,” Gilly said. “And not knowing you, still you see, I feel forced to trust you. But if you’ve been raised to have any sort of honor of all, you’ll see Mr. Amandur gets this message.”

“I don’t know that honor has anything to do with messages,” Avanill said, sitting down once more. “But let’s have it then.”

“Thank you Sir! I can’t tell you how much it means to me! Tell him that Mr. Dúlrain has gone after Miss Benia and the others. And that he said not to wait for them, but that they will catch up and join him, just as soon as they can.”

“Is that it?” Avanill asked the hobbit, who biting her lower lip, gave him many a rapid, shallow nod. “Then I will tell Amandur as soon as I see him,” the man said. “Easy enough.”

“Many thanks,” Gilly said, her voice wavering as she hurried down the stairs. “You have no idea how much help this is!” And without waiting for his response, she jogged up the path, tears rolling down her face the moment her back was turned. Passing through the garden once more, she was on her way back to the guests’ quarters to fetch her sword, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she saw through blurry eyes, that Toby stood holding out a handkerchief to her.

“Mrs. Banks!” he was saying. “What could have happened to you, to make you weep so. I thought it near impossible to be gloomy or depressed in a place like this.”

“So the stories say,” Gilly said sniffing, and gratefully taking the handkerchief, she dabbed her eyes. “But it is not Imladris that has brought me to tears, but my own stupidity and Miss Benia’s continued ill-fortune. It seems even in such a lovely place as this she must still be haunted by trouble. It is just not right that she can’t ever find a moment of real peace.”

“Then have you had an argument?” Toby asked.

“No, no. It is just that she has gone missing, when, had I been a better friend, I should have been with her. And now Mr. Kaldir, Mr. Rauthain and Mr. Dúlrain have all gone off to find her and none have come back yet. I am so worried. It was near noon when Mr. Kaldir left. I don’t know what has happened, though I can think of any number of horrible things. But I do know that something is terribly, terribly wrong! And I am off to find her myself, once I get my sword and hers.”

“Alone? You can’t do that Mrs. Banks. There are foul things around, maybe even close to where we stand. Why don’t we alert the elves? They know this place better then anyone.”

“You are right, Mr. Longholes, I’m sure they do. And it’s not as though they haven’t been extra vigilant these passed few days. But you know that if something’s to be done right, you must do it yourself. And I will not fritter away anymore time, I’ve thrown too much away already.” She paused, seeing that Toby looked unconvinced, “Of course, you are free to tell them if you’d like.”

“You can’t do this, Mrs. Banks! After all you aren’t a ranger, or an elf!”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me what I can or can not do, Mr. Longholes! My feet can be just as quiet as yours, and I can track as well, too. I’ve learned a few things on this journey, and for all his eccentricities Kaldir has been a very good teacher. But don’t hinder me now, I must be off,” Gilly said picking up her skirts to climb the steps back into the building.

But Toby followed behind, trying to reason with her. He knew what might lie in wait. “If these men have gone off and not returned, how can you believe your efforts might go any better?”

“I don’t know that they would, only that I must try!” Gilly said. “But please do go away and stop plaguing me. I won’t change my mind, you know! Shoo!”

“But I can’t let you go alone, like this. And if I cannot talk you out of it, well then, I will just have go with you, though I would rather not. Frankly, you are in no state to be traveling, and your crying alone is bound to get you discovered!”

“Suit yourself Mr. Longholes,” Gilly gave in, hoping that Toby would change his mind. “And I promise to stop crying if you promise to stop lecturing.”

“Agreed.”

"Then we are off," Gilly said, handing Toby Dulrain's companion sword as she swung Benia's weapon over her shoulder once more.

[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

As he fell to the ground, Kaldir struggled to breathe. The blow that Dúlrain had struck with his sword had broken two or three of Kaldir’s ribs, ripped through the muscle of his chest wall and pierced his lung. As Kaldir slumped forward, Dúlrain caught him and lowered him the rest of the way to ground, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood from Kaldir’s side with his hands.

“I am sorry, brother, it seems that I am destined to fail you always!” wept Dúlrain in abject despair.

Scarcely hearing him, Kaldir pushed the other man’s hands away from him and, curling his body around his pain, tried to force himself upward upon his knees. Dúlrain had not failed him. Kaldir had let him strike the killing blow. His own sword raised to finish the younger man, Kaldir had hesitated as a shred of memory caught upon the jagged edge of his mind like a gossamer handkerchief upon a thornbush. Dúlrain. At one time, he had called this man friend, even brother. The one who lay dead behind him was Rauthain, another friend, murdered in the name of that treacherous bitch, Naiore. Kaldir knew that he must be stopped before he could finish even one more heinous act, but unable to free himself completely from Naiore’s thrall, did the one thing that he knew would be effective. He had hesitated and left his side unprotected. Dúlrain had done his part with lethal accuracy.

Unable to rise, Kaldir lurched forward, his scarred face landing in the soft earth of the forest floor. With blood filling his wounded lung, his breath had already begun to gurgle in his chest. He had not much time.

“Murdered,” he growled, falling heavily on to his side. He coughed, spraying the ground with a fine crimson mist.

“Yes, I have murdered you, my brother,” groaned Dúlrain, again trying to do what he could to stop the rush of blood from Kaldir’s side. “Forgive me, I - “

Hearing him this time, Kaldir reached out and closed Dúlrain’s wrist in a still powerful grip.

“No!” he said fiercely. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “I...murdered Rauthain. Would have...murdered you. This - “ he tightened his grip “- this is my peace. No murder. Peace.” For the last time, he fixed his pale blue eyes on Dúlrain’s, searching for a sign that his brother understood. Seeing at last a dawning comprehension enter the other man’s face, Kaldir closed his eyes. Already the pain had begun to recede and blackness begun to creep inward from the corners of his mind. He coughed again, sending another fine mist of crimson blood into the sparkling air. Somewhere in the darkness, he could hear a woman singing like a nightengale, in a Haradrim dialect, a song of warm desert winds and shifting sands. He could see her gentle face before him, her kohl-lined eyes, shining like gems... had he managed to save her? He couldn’t recall. He had tried. Remembering something, Kaldir released Dúlrain’s wrist and dug something out of his pocket. He tried to press it into Dúlrain’s hand, but found that his muscles no longer obeyed him. His fingers refused to open.

“Find her,” he whispered. “Save her. They go.”

Summoning a final deep breath, he murmured, “Gladden Fields.” And with that final breath, the pain that had haunted him for so many years departed Kaldir at last. The peace that he had been denied so completely since that fateful day when he had fallen into the hands of Sauron’s minions at Raven Falls descended over him, not so much like a shroud as like a woman’s silken veil, lowered over him with love. And forgiveness.


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

Barrold Ferny

Three times, Barrold Ferny started down the path toward the hidden entrance to Imladris and three times turned back, each time grumbling to himself and kicking at stones. The first time, he got nearly to the place where the path declined steeply downward into the vale. Then, remembering the value of the mithril book covers he had left in his open pack back in the camp along the ridge, he went back. Shouldering his pack, he started again along the path that the bounty hunter had taken. This time, he only made it a short distance before deciding that the pack was too heavy and cumbersome. If he did end up having to finish Kaldir himself, he didn't want to be burdened with the extra weight. Kaldir had always been dangerous with a sword in his hand, but after what Naiore had done to him, Ferny trusted him even less than before.

Thinking back on the cold, empty eyes of the bounty hunter and the thin trickle of blood that had dripped persistently from his nose when Naiore had finished with him, Barrold felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Spooky," he muttered. "That's what that was. Right dead spooky..." With a nervous glance around him, he took off the pack again and hid it under a pile of brush. With his sword drawn, Ferny started for the third time back along the trail toward Imladris. Again, he paused where the trail took a steep downward turn.

This time, he was greeted not by silence but by the sound of clashing swords echoing up from the forest below. Then, abruptly, the sound of fighting stopped. By Ferny's guess, someone had just died, but whether it was an elf or Naiore's bounty hunter, he could not say. He hoped it was Kaldir. If so, it would save him a good bit of trouble. Maybe he'd just assume that it was. Of course, if he was wrong and Kaldir turned up again later on, Naiore would have his hide. But by then, Ferny argued against himself, he planned to be long gone and, if Naiore wanted to skin him, she would have to find him first.

"Wot about 'im," spat Ferny in disgust, mocking himself. Why did he have to go and open his big mouth back there in the camp with Naiore? Of course, the Ravenner was right. The bounty hunter was a dead man or as good as one. There was no way he was coming back, so why wait? It would be just another useless delay. Ferny turned his head and spat at a beetle crawling in the dust by his foot. If he had just been smart and kept his mouth shut, he would have been miles away from this place by now. The beautiful southern woman would be his to do with as he pleased, and that evil elf would be on her own. After what he had witnessed Naiore do to the bounty hunter, Ferny's only real ambition was to put as much landscape between himself and the Ravenner as possible. Finally, he decided he would not wait any longer. As far as he was concerned, the bounty hunter was dead. Sheathing his sword, Barrold Ferny turned and jogged back to the campsite where he had left his pack and the bounty hunter's gray horse.

Shouldering his pack for the second time that afternoon, Ferny eyed the gray stallion. He looked fast, that one, and could probably fetch a pretty penny on the black market.

"I'll just take off and head west," he said to the horse. "Go back to Bree and make my gold off o' yer smelly gray hide. Forget 'er and 'er big promises." He spat at the ground, having no desire to hurry himself to rejoin Naiore, yet not wanting to hang about Imladris any longer either. The place would soon be crawling with Elven tracking parties. He had nearly convinced himself to flee back into the west on his own when he thought again of the bounty hunter's frighteningly empty eyes. Naiore would not be a good enemy to have lurking about out there. He might be able to slide by with a little white lie about the bounty hunter's death, but to desert or betray her outright? Thinking hard, he reached up and scratched his head, catching a stray louse, which he pinched absently between his nails. There was also the matter of the southern woman to consider. He pictured the smooth silkiness of her skin and the shine of her long, black braid. She had been promised to him, and, by garn, he wanted his chance to unloose that braid and roll around for awhile in the glossy veil of her hair. While she certainly wasn't no elf, she was definitely good enough for Barrold Ferny.

"Wonder if she can cook..." he mused, his mind made up at last. If she couldn't cook, he figured that a few well-placed kicks would teach her soon enough. She'd learn.

Thinking these happy thoughts, Ferny went to mount the gray horse and get on his way. Unfortunately, he had reckoned without the animal's ill temper. No sooner did Ferny get into range than the horse, with lightning swiftness, shot out a huge, ironclad hoof. It caught Ferny squarely on the hip and sent him sprawling. With a litany of curses flying, Ferny picked himself up and, momentarily forgetting the value of the horse, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The horse whinnied and shook his head as though hugely pleased with himself. Barrold Ferny growled deep in his throat, but let loose of the sword. If he killed the horse, he would never catch up to Naiore. Cautiously, he edged his way around to the side of the gray stallion and pulled himself awkwardly into the saddle. The hip where he had been kicked throbbed mercilessly. Angrily, he gave the horse a solid kick in the ribs and flicked the reins. Instead of going, the gray stallion simply turned his head and eyed the man suspiciously, baring his large, square teeth. Ferny bared his teeth right back.

"I don't know what he called you," he snarled. "But I'll call you Dead if you...don't...GO!" He finished by landing a stronger more vicious kick into the animal's ribs. This time, the horse trotted obediantly forward and Barrold Ferny was on his way. Urging the gray stallion into an easy gallop, Ferny made his way southward to rendezvous with Naiore Dannan and to collect his reward.