#haneth

[hanethofrohan]

[hanethofrohan]

Left on Agamaran's Doorstep

The cloth had been cut quick across the hem. It seemed a piece of a cloak, or blanket, hacked off the loom before it was finished. The hem danced with horse hooves, crowned with eagle feathers, and the background a grassland fading into sea. Wrapped inside the tattered cloth was a seven-pointed star, a broach that had once been fastened to a huntress’ bandage in her sleep by a caring hand. And a note, having spared no time to find paper, carved with quick, violent marks into a wooden spoon. It promised, “Gi melin.”  There was no signature, no scent, even, that lingered. Only scraps of what they had shared, tied together, and left on his door step, to remember her by and nothing else.

[lotrologs]

Agamaran and Haneth - The End

| The water on the Starmere Lake was rather calm as the sun crept across the sky. It would be sundown soon. The gentle wind was a compliment to the rather hot day and it felt as if the land itself was cooling down in anticipation for the oncoming sunset. Agamaran stood amidst the ruins that overlooked the well-hidden lake. His boots were clean, as were the rest of his clothes. His hood was thrown back, showing off the curls in his hair--he had bathed as well. His weapons and pack were tucked away next to a tree where his horse remained untethered. He glanced at his paint horse as it chortled. He spoke in the gentle language of the Elves to him, as if he was reassuring the horse more than he was himself of the words: "She will be here. She will understand the message."

  | The ridge over Starmere just turned pink when Haneth’s horse crept down to the water. She had not had the same luxury. The day’s work slicked her neck with sweat and musk clung to her skin like a faint heat off of bread stone. Her hips swayed with the courser’s ambling until he knickered and dipped his head to the water. She slipped from the saddle, and picked her heels up the moment they flattened the grass to stride towards him, throw her hands into his curls, and kiss.

  | He quietly watched her as she strode towards him, and before he could speak her lips were upon his. He took her in then, breathing in deeply at the unexpected display of strong emotion, before a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him why he asked her here. Slowly, his face came apart from hers as he held it within his hands. "Haneth," he said quietly, and then he seemed to be rather dumbfounded as he couldn't find any other words to say.

  | Her head rested in his hands, for the moment with eyes hopeful, trusting him to treat it well. A smile escaped across her lips and she rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Agamaran,” she whispered as her cheek, course with scars, rested against his.

  | "I must speak with you," he said suddenly, and his voice seemed to waver somewhat. He cleared his throat quietly as he brought her away from his face once more to look at her. "It is important," he said, this time more firmly and a little more confident. His eyes complimented the seriousness of his statement.

  | Her smile ebbed. “What is it?” Her eyes mirrored his severity. “What’s wrong?” Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she grew desperate of the space between them, fearing he might flee.

    | He swallowed as he gently took her arms down from his shoulders until his hands filled her own and held them. "There is no doubt of our love," he began, and his face grew soft as he seemed to find the confidence in his words. "It was a surprise, but it was a well-welcomed surprise. I often..." He shook his head then for half a moment as a small sigh escaped his nostrils. "Haneth," he said, and the tone held the candor that he often shared with her. "'I am yours and you are mine;' we have said this to each other as often as the sun sets, and we have more than proved it when we lie with one another to confirm it. But," and as he said the word, he took in a deep breath," There is yet one thing I have not done to honor you."

  He slowly came down to one knee then, and he looked as if he was to swear an oath to her. He let go of her hands for a moment as he held his own aloft in the other. The silver signet ring with the inlaid sapphire gleamed amidst the setting sun. The figure of the hawk looked as bold as Agamaran often did, but now he had a look upon his face as if nothing else in the world mattered except where his eyes laid upon, and they rest upon Haneth's own. Slowly, he plucked the ring from his finger, revealing a mark to suggest that the ring had rarely been off his hand since it was first adorned with it. He palmed the ring before trading it to his fingers and then held it up to her as his other hand supported the other. "Haneth," he said, and it took all his training to remain calm and concentrated, despite the rapid beating in his heart that seemed to accelerate to his throat. "Will you be mine, forever?"

  | Not until death. Forever.

  Days before she had run from the mead hall, spurned to stallion speed by the fear of their mutual fate. Her fingers trembled as they waited for the glove to be slipped off and a ring, more binding than his seed growing inside her, to claim her empty hand. She could already feel it, the metal still warm from where it lived for decades.

  “I…” Her tongue slipped. On even bad days it bounded through three languages but at this moment, it could not remember one.

  She had told Desten she would love him forever, and she had meant it. What was she doing?

  “I…I will not.”

  A heat surged through her, like a puncture to her heart gushing blood down her bones. Her temples reeled. Panic punched a hole in her lung and she gasped for breath to replace the quick fleeting air.

  “No. No I mean I will. Agamaran…” She fell to her knees in front of him. Tears already bubbled in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She repeated the mantra truer than any other, and sought for his face with her fingers. “I love you so much.”

  | He waited with abated breath for her answer. As she spoke the single syllable, his eyes grew in anticipation, but when she refused him, his eye became vacant and grew numb. Time seemed to slow around him as the wind blew at the leaves. The sound was an echoing distance before it came back into focus. When it did, Haneth was grabbing at his face. It took him half a moment after that for him to notice the tears streaming down the face and what she was saying.

  But he was no hopeful youth who might believe the sudden change in heart. He had seen love before--true love, the likes of which could stretch the faculties of those entwined with it. He had feared the worst with Haneth--that he was simply an anchor to the grief of her losing her true husband, her true love. But when she demanded from him what he rebuffed from her, and when they shared one another, he became convinced otherwise. But now the doubt returned and knocked down the foundation that was built within his walls. Behind it was the mask. He slipped it on.

  "Haneth," he said, and it was the time-tested tone of a trained voice that displayed no emotion as he tried to slowly pull her hands down away from him. "Haneth," he repeated, now more firmly. His resolve was slipping now. He could feel the burning sensation underneath his eyes as he bitterly forbade himself to shed a tear. He had said her name now to catch her attention, but he seemed incapable of saying anything after it.

  | “No…” she pleaded, slipping from his hands and regaining the ground she had lost. Her fingers fumbled through his hair. Her eyes were desperate, clawing at the mask. “No, don’t go. No, please. Please don’t go.” She scrambled on her knees to be near him. She threw herself against him, and he had never felt such strength in her arms. “I love you. I love you.” She had cut open her heart, and this bled forth. “Please. I love you. I love you.”

    | He could not stop her as she threw himself against him. He didn't try to. Even in this proximity, memories stirred within him as he smelled her scent, regardless of the sweat and strain mixed within it--it was a scene he had grown to love. He focused on the strands of her flaxen hair that he was fond of playing with. And then he woke himself from the dream.

  "Haneth," he said, and his face showed true emotion and hurt as he was unable to keep his steely resolve admist her bombarding him with her own torrent of anguish, "Your first answer was the truthful one." His voice was breaking apart as he said the words, and he quickly cleared his throat as if it would serve a distraction to his own troubles in trying to remain composed. Still he demanded that he not shed a single tear, and so he didn't.

  | “This life,” she pleaded, her fingers gripping what they could, cloth and hair alike. “This life I can share with you. What do I know what comes after?” She risked pulling back so she could look into his eyes. Her scars glittered with tears. Her grip had never been stronger on any sword or bow. “Forever is an impossible time. This time – this time right now is what I know, and I give you all of it.”

  | He placed a small, lifeless kiss upon her forehead. "I should have listened to you," he began, and his voice was distant, yet it did not crack under the pressure as it did before. "When you wished for me to leave." His eyes regained their stone-like quality of revealing nothing. "I understand it is not death you fear, but the life thereafter." A beat passed between them. "And who you wait for. Who truly holds your love." He hung his head in defeat then as he avoided her eyes. "I know it is not me."

  | Her hands clutched his cheeks to pull him upward. Her gaze burrowed into his, trying to grab at something slipping away. “How can I love him less?” she begged, her voice so wracked it moaned. “How? He was taken from me in the first days of our marriage. We were not allowed to grow old together, to fight, to grow tired of each other and to dream of other things. He was taken from me in our honeymoon, and that…that is all I know.” Her hands scurried across his shoulders, not knowing where they went. “I need you to understand. Desten is fixed, like a ruin preserved. You and me, we are living. There is blood in us, there is change. We do not know what will be before us, but I know – I *know* I want to find out with you.”

  | A cold hand touched her cheek as he let himself be pulled upward. "I cannot ask of you anything, and I have already done enough to dishonor his memory." A long, drawn-out sigh escaped through his nose. "What I have done to you is unforgivable...The desire that I gave in to, mistaking it for love, when it is now readily seen as an act of comfort between one who grieves and another who has longed for love, yet has always had it taken from him." He almost absently brushed a strand of her hair as a muscle memory, but stopped himself before he carried out the action. "I cannot live with the idea that I am just the wax that fills the chipped marble of your heart. I want to be the great statue that is at your foundation, and I understand that I cannot be that." Their faces may have been inches apart, but he seemed like a world away.

  | “I only grieve…” she sobbed, her head falling against his brow. Her breath was soft even as it raced. She barely blinked, fearing even a second with closed eyes would send him away. “I only grieve…for you. Please do not take yourself from me.”

  | "I will remain," he said, yet the tone was neither hopeful nor cheerful. "I will remain as I once did--as I did in Stangard. But I will not dishonor you further than I already have. I will not ask your forgiveness in this, as I know I am to blame for the...things that we did." He tried to slowly break free from her embrace then. "But for now, I wish to be alone...with my thoughts." Again, his cold eyes looked away from her, avoiding her own eyes at all cost. But if she caught glimpse in them, they did not bare the shame that he said they did--rather they bore the look of defeat, like some soldier who had seen his last battle on a long campaign.

  | “I do not need your presence,” she sobbed. Her head slipped down his cheek and sank into the crest of his shoulder. “I need you.” Night fell upon them. The stars twinkled in Starmere like the unending trails of fireworks, falling to the water but never quite reaching.

  | Agamaran said nothing. If he believed her words, he did not show it. Rather, he tried once more to break free from her, this time attempting to stand as he tried to gently push back at her shoulders so that her head did not rest on his shoulder. It was slowly coming back--the mask. It was slipping back on. He was beginning to wonder why he ever took it off.

  | Haneth clutched at him, but her fingers had lost the chance to hold on. “I love you.” Did the words mean nothing? She begged and whispered, had tried all but shouting, and nothing could stop the cold tide from rising.

  | As he stood, he slipped the ring back over his finger before it found its rightful place. He walked to his horse slowly, setting the weapons and his bag over the saddlebags. And yet he did not look back. After he had packed his gear, he looked over the saddle and at the lake. He watched the reflection of the stars dance across the water that was subtly disturbed by the wind. He thought of the many Numenorean statues on the shores of Evendim--their inscriptions worn or broken, and who they represented long forgotten. And so they too were forgotten, yet remained a forlorn watchmen over a crumbling state of affairs. The way he stood still almost made him seem like one of those statues.

  | Haneth could not see him as in his noble state. She had bent over, her forehead pressed against the lakeside muck. Her hair tangled in the reeds as she sobbed into the earth. Her arms wound around her, clutching her stomach as if holding her insides from spilling out through a gash in her chest.

  | He listened to her anguish as he stood next to his horse. The soft sound of her cries brought a torrent of memories they had shared--the troubles they overcame, the confessions they made to one another, and the time they spent together in happiness. And so Agamaran could not hold back the demand he made of himself, and shed silent tears as his chest heaved in its own torment. He quickly mounted his horse and kicked off, tearing out of the scene as fast and far as he could, or, at least, as well as he could see.

[lotrologs]

Arion, Haneth, Laerlin, Thorvall - the Jail

### Chat Log: General 04/26 10:24 PM ###

Arion bows his head to the woman, "How may I be of service?"

  Haneth stepped forward, her hand slipping away from the hilt of her sword where it rested. "Lord Arion." She bowed her head.

  Arion replies, "Well met.”

  Haneth looked familiar, if the lord had much memory of victims he had treated or guests to his jail, but she had changed. Scars now connected her freckles like lined constellations and she was older, leaner, starved despite bearing the wider hips of motherhood. "Thank you for meeting with me. I regret I could not come sooner, but with all this...commotion lately..."

  Arion shakes his head, "No apology is necessary. I quite understand the demands duty can place on a person."

  Haneth 's lip half-grimaced, half-grinned. "May we speak somewhere out of the draft of the door?" It was not the wind that was cold, but those who might march through it.

  Arion nods, "Certainly. Come with me."

  Haneth followed, then when they stopped began straight away. "I received your message about Cyndyn." She glanced at the infirmary where the young kitchen maid slept, chasing away her bruises. "About what happened...what did you learn?"

  Arion answers, "Until I can find the other person involved, I am sure you know as much as I, if not more as I believe both parties are members of your company."

  Haneth nodded. "The other was my apprentice, Neyarra. I have already spoken to them both, and they are not to see nor speak to each other without my presence again."

  Arion nods, "Hopefully that will prevent future problems but I need to resolve what already occured. I will need to speak to your apprentice and most likely, if what Cyndyn said is true, arrest and try Neyarra."

  Haneth nodded, running a hand through her hair. "It is my understanding, that when Thorvall ruled Archet, you left him and his warband to their own justice, and in return he helped you keep peace in Bree. Is that arrangement no longer standing?"

  Arion shakes his head, "That is not quite accurate. If any crimes occurred within Archet, I did not interfere and he and his company did not assist with enforcing the law in Bree but helped to fill the ranks of a militia that, in time of need, would help defend Bree-land from outside forces. Fortunately, the militia never was never needed. After the Oathsworn left Bree-land, the Watch resumed duty in Archet."

  Haneth lifted her chin. "And now we are returned, and I would like to be in partnership with you once again. One of ours, Lethiah, has already joined the Watch. He says that things have been peaceful since we forsook Archet. We would like to see it remain that way."

  Arion raises a brow, "I would have to discuss the matter with the Mayor and the community leaders of Archet. If they are amenable to the idea, we can work out the details. Now, about your apprentice. Is she going to turn herself in?"

  Haneth surrendered half a smile, stretching the scars down her jaw. "I suppose she will have to, if you do not trust us to manage the justice of our own people."

  Laerlin pushes the door open and enters the jail house. She pauses to lean against her simple walking staff, giving the old place an even lookabout. She sees her destination quickly enough, though frowns faintly to see him occupied. Nevertheless, she hobbles closer, and her faint frown turns into surprise as she recognizes Haneth. She waits and does not interrupt.

  Arion shakes his head, "It is not a matter of trust but of the law. Even if I were not bound by statute, were I to give you and yours dispensation to handle lawbreakers within your own company, then other companies and groups would demand the same latitude and that way lies chaos. While I understand your desire to police your own, I must adjudicate all legal matters within Bree-land."

  Haneth |The sound of lingering footsteps in a storm of marching boots drew Haneth's gaze. She smiled and nodded at Laerlin, the first they had seen each other in a year or more, but business was at hand. Lifting her chin higher as she returned to Arion, "I understand. And we seek no special treatment, only partnership. Tell me, though, what charge does Arra face if brought before you?"

  Arion answers, "Assault with a weapon at a minimum. Other charges could be brought as well or discarded. I need to question her in order to determine what charges she might face.""

  Laerlin falls more heavily on her staff as they continue to talk, though her head perks up at the mention of 'Arra'. "You speak of Arra the young brigand? That is why I came in today, Arion," she says after he is done speaking.

  Haneth shifted away from the stairs to allow Laerlin the space to climb them. "We do. I saw her last night at your healing house." As the woman came closer Haneth's voice lowered. "Thank you for caring for her. She could have suffered greatly if one who knew you had not found her."

  Arion nods in greeting to Laerlin, "well met and yes, I need to resolve the matters of her crime or crimes."

  Laerlin chooses not to ascend the stairs, likely on account of her leg. She seems content to remain right where she is. "You are welcome. I did not know you had any connection with her. Darramir and I-- Darramir moreso-- do not hold much fondness for her, but I won't leave anyone untreated. But, I thought you ought to know, Justice, that she is there right now. She won't be moving far without aid, either. The stitches would break if she moves too much, I warrant."

  Arion turns his gaze on Laerlin, "When will she be capable of coming here of her own volition or safely via another means such as horse or wagon?"

  Haneth nodded in response to Laerlin. "She is my apprentice. Has been this year and a half or more, though it seems longer." Fondness warmed her smile but then was gone and barren. "May I suggest, Laerlin, if it is alright with you, that Arion or a member of his men go to the healing house to question and try her?" She turned to Arion. "She is not worth jailing, and to drag her here would harm her more than help."

  Arion shakes his head, "Whether her actions warrant jailing remain to be seen though on the surface they certainly do. I see no purpose to questioning her, determining she needs to be sentenced, then having to wait until she has healed to carry out that sentence. I need to know when it will cause her no further injury to have her brought here."

  Haneth frowned. "Then why put her through the pain of travelling if the questioning leads nowhere?"

  Laerlin does not interrupt their discussion at the moment as they discuss her fate, her expression neutral as either of them speak. She shifts her body weight against the staff carefully.

  Arion raises a brow, "Then are you saying Cyndyn lied or is injured in some fashion as to render her complaint inaccurate or false?"

  Haneth |A deep line twitched between the laugh lines and scars. She squared her stance to Arion, her voice lowering. "I am saying you jailed Arra already for defending herself against an attacker. She has done her time, and does not deserve any more pain at your hands."

  Arion does not seem moved by that argument, "You are conflating two seperate matters that do not warrant such. Now, based on the past relationship I had with the Oathsworn, I am willing to allow Neyarra to heal to an extent at Laerlin's, if she allows it, but if pushed, that can change."

  Haneth 's eyes widened where they should have glared. Her lips fell open, but she had nothing else in her to say. Nodding, she dropped her gaze. "I will alert you when she is ready."

  Arion bows his head to her, "Thank you." He looks over at Laerlin, "What time frame might that be?"

  Laerlin considers his words. "She came in just the other evening... the stitches should be ready to be removed in five to six days, I warrant, which is the greatest danger. If there is no infection in her shoulder by that point, either, I think the threat of that has passed. So after the stitches are removed, I believe." She frowns faintly. "She was very angry against Cyndyn; seems to think that her husband is some sort of terrible crook and Cyndyn is ignoring it. I cannot believe that Cyndyn bit her, as well... it was a very nasty fight. My neighbor found her on the road; she is lucky she was found by a good man and not a bad one. She was in a bad state."

  Haneth drove her gaze into the floor to spare the others from seeing what lurked there. Her fingers curled to fists, but slackened soon as they touched her palms.

  Arion explains, "There was a past incident involving Cyndyn's husband and Neyarra. Unfortunately, there was insufficient evidence to substantiate her complaint while enough to substantiate his. I am curious though as to why Cyndyn would have entered into a relationship with him knowing of this trouble between him and a member of her own company..."

  Haneth swung her slow gaze up to Arion, the remnant of anger not yet quenched from her green rings. "Leave that to me, Justice. The state of the mind where it concerns my Men is my own worry. The state of the Law is yours."

  Laerlin looks very curious, then her eyes widen. "Oh! Goodness gracious! /That/ is her husband? The one she claimed tried to-- oh, goodness gracious." She grimaces faintly over something, then readjusts her position. "I did not realize the young Arra was in your company, Haneth. Do you know she is friends with brigands? The very ones who did Darramir much hurt?"

  Arion nods, "As you say. Given Laerlin's estimation, I will expect Neyarra to be brought here in a week's time. If there is a change in her recovery, then Laerlin can send word to me..." He stops as Laerlin mentions brigands.

  Thorvall pushed his way into the gaol. Pausing, as if he were a hound sniffing the air for threat or quarry, he made towards familiar figures of Justice, healer and huntress. "Apologies for my lateness, Valaroma threw a shoe before we reached the south gate." He snorted at their words, even as he heard them. "Arion employed Leeta has his assistant, which is worse?"

  Laerlin adjusts her position on her staff again to look at Thorvall. "I remember Leeta. She wouldn't stop following him around. I do not care if she is in your company, but you /should/ know that she is friends with that Cisse. Cisse is a right crook. You just should keep her away from bad influences, and she might not get into as much trouble. She's young enough to be molded into a better person."

  Arion nods politely to Thor before answering, "I did not employ Leeta. I attempted, perhaps mistakenly and certainly with not much initial result, to set her on another path. Perhaps with time my efforts will prove successful."

  Haneth 's scarred eyes flinched. She had contained herself til this moment but no longer. "The man who your healers have treated in this very jail is a treacherous beast." She turned to Laerlin and Thorvall, clenching her hand as it began to shake. "Vinicio is a harder man than fifty 'Cisse's' and yet you keep him here and jail his victims."

  Laerlin 's face wrinkles in confusion, the expression causing the nice large bruise on her cheek to contort in shape. "Vinicio works at the jail?"

  Arion appears unsure if Han's diatribe was directed at him or someone else.

  Haneth threw her gaze again to the floor. "Vini is healed at the jail," she said, then lowered her voice, "...as we speak."

  Thorvall pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "Cisse..." he spoke the name as if he had only just heard it. "I'm newly returned to Bree, and until Arra decides to join our band care not too much who she spends her time with, as long as she commits no crimes." A pause, as Haneth's words bit into him. "If what Haneth and Arra say is true, as well as what I've known of the man, he's more ripe for the gallows than poultices and bandages." He drew a scar-flecked hand through straw coloured locks. "You've my word, Arion, that I'll look into those you say are the girl’s friends, but I trust Haneth on this, Vini is no innocent party."

  Arion nods, "Yes, he is here but definitely not as an employee. He was attacked though I do not know the circumstances as he has not regained lucidity as of yet. As for his character, I have little doubt he is a... boor, at best. However, until sufficient proof exists that he has committed a crime, I cannot arrest him for being a boor."

  Laerlin glances between Thorvall and Haneth. "If you know he has done something, and you were witness to it, would that be sufficient cause?" She pauses, then frowns some more. "Actually, when I met Cyndyn on the streets the day after her husband went missing, she was very badly bruised. This was a little while ago. Were you ever able to figure out from her who caused this?"

  Thorvall shook his head slowly. "It was all muggings, brigands or falls, I know well enough when the girl is hiding something, but..." He sighed through his teeth. "She has been in such a state, maybe a year ago I'd have shouted it from her..." He shrugged. "I suppose going home made me soft."

  Haneth’s eyes climbed Thorvall. She found his face and rooted about like a boar digging for food.

  Laerlin does not seem to have anything to add to Thorvall's words. She shakes her head slowly and swivels carefully to look at Arion to see what he has to say about all of this.

  Arion suggests, "There was an incident involving Cyndyn, Cisse, and some companions of Cisse. Given that its been explained now that Cisse is a friend of Neyarra's, it now makes more sense."

  Thorvall |Eyes narrowed, fixing on the justice. "So it was Cisse?" He growled. "Cyndyn knew her by another name it seemed, that is good to know."

  Laerlin raises a brow at Arion. "Is that so?" She glances at Thorvall. "Aye, but if Arra is good friends with Cisse-- I believe they are at least friends-- who is to say she was not acting on Arra's behalf? It seems you need to sit Arra down and tell her to get away from troublesome influences like Cisse."

  Haneth 's fingers tightened on her belt. "Arra should not be held responsible for the actions of those she supposedly knows." She raised her gaze over her shoulder to Arion. "She is her own woman. Is her companionship evidence? Is Cyndyn's? Knowing she is married to this...Vini, and yet that does not sway your judgment of Arra?"

  Arion shakes his head, "I have made no judgment, other than Cyndyn's complaint regarding Neyarra necessitates her being taken into custody, for the moment."

  Thorvall held is hand up. "If I may suggest a compromise, Lord Arion?"

  Arion answers, "I believe one has already been reached but continue."

  Thorvall furrowed his brow. "Apologies, I'm not sure I was here as it was being made, I was about to suggest we keep Arra in Rambroke, as I do not feel right taking her in chains to Bree..." He paused, chewing over the thought. "You could maybe visit there and decide, and whatever conclusion you reach." Another pause, and he shot a look to Haneth. "We will support."

  Laerlin tells Thorvall, "She is currently in my infirmary in the 'steads, recovering. Arion agreed to waiting until she was fully recovered. I suppose if all she is needed for is questioning, when she comes here, chains are an unnecessary precaution?" She looks at Arion quizzically.

  Arion nods, "Chains are not needed though she does need to come here once she is healthy enough to do so as we discussed previously."

  Haneth dragged her gaze from off the floor to Thorvall. "Lord Arion is not agreeable to delaying Arra's return to the jail for judgment. He has already delayed her return and allowed us a week to let her heal. After then, by his words, she is his."

  Thorvall |Brow furrowed, he shrugged. "As you say, but I'd see her to Rambroke before she goes to Bree, if chains are not needed then I imagine that will not be a problem?"

  Laerlin answers Thorvall, grimacing a bit as she shifts her position again, "It is unadvisable for her to be moved without a wagon due to the... precarious positioning of her stitches. I would like to keep an eye on the bite wound for a couple more days as well, just in case of infection."

  Arion raises a brow, "What would be the purpose for this?"

  Thorvall curled his lip a little at that. "We have our own healers who I'd like to look over her, as well as offering her the comfort of home before she does to questioning for nothing more than a scrap." He sighed heavily then, heaving shoulder sending the crimson cloak shimmering across his back. "Come on Arion, you and I have both done worse in our time before you took up the mantle of justice, half of our fights against Rashka's crew were in the middle of the street, I swear on my honour she'll come before you, but let her come home first."

  Haneth kept silent, knowing her word was a crumb compared with Thorvall's.

  Arion 's brow furrow, "I defended myself, and others, if attacked. Regardless, that is not what is at question here. How long is this... visit to her 'home' going to take?"

  Thorvall waved his hand dismissively, yet his face was open and guileless. "No more than a few days, she is young, and she is scared, despite all her blustering." He turned then to face the healer. "You know that as well as I, the comfort will help her, where as her being taken straight here would leave her hissing and spitting as a cat."

  Laerlin does not look entirely pleased by his words of healers. "I assure you that my qualifications are the highest," she says stiffly. "But as for her movement, I care not; that is Arion's call, in the end." She grimaces again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have been standing for much too long. If you want to do a healer a favor, you can leave a few silver there to help cover the costs of supplies. I am not a wealthy woman." She turns to leave.

  Arion shakes his head, "I agreed to a week at Laerlin's as I was told that was the time that was needed to for her to heal sufficiently. I will not agree to an open ended... respite at her home. Give me an exact time."

  Thorvall firmed his jaw, nodding. "You've the right of it then, we will say three days after she has left Laerlin's care she will be here." Dipping his head a slight to the man's authority, he turned at once toward the healer. "My apologies, honestly." He bowed deeper now. "Your skill at healing and the comfort you bring is known throughout Bree-land, but we have healers she knows, and with Arra that is important, I meant no offence."

  Haneth conquered the opportunity to leave her lord to his business and cantered down the steps. "Laerlin," she implored before the hobbled woman could make it far. "If you need anything for Arra... I should have offered." She worked at a purse packed deep in a leather satchel of other wares, then drew it free. Pressing the stitched wool into Laerlin's hand, she smiled to dilute the brass sound of coins clinking. "If that is not enough send word and I will repay you. You have already done so much...I do not know how to repay you.”

  Thorvall held up a hand to stay that of the huntress. "I will pay, on here arrival to us you'll have silver for her care and as much again as my thanks."

  Haneth pushed the purse deeper into Laerlin's palm. "Thorvall pays me for my duty and I pay my apprentice." Her eyes caught Thorvall's. "That is how it is done and that is how it will be."

  Laerlin does not seem to have much choice in the matter; she takes the purse from Haneth and tells her, "I am sure this will be sufficient." At Thorvall's apology, she looks appeased and dips her head in thanks. "Haneth knows where my infirmary is. If you will excuse me... I need to rest my leg."

  Arion , in reaction to an impatient glance from Dawn, says, "I am behind on my patrol. Ten days is to effect an arrest is... generous to say the least. Do not abuse my forbearance in this matter. Good day to you all."

  Thorvall frowned at the words, then shot her an admiring grin. "If you say so, Bregu." Wincing at Arion’s words, after nodding his thanks to Laerlin he turned toward the man. "It is a favour between old friends, Arion, not abuse." He sighed, continuing. "One minute it's questioning, another arrest."

  Haneth slipped three fingers into Thorvall's elbow and tugged. "We should be going," she whispered, staring at the hem of his shoulder to not risk glances abroad.

  Thorvall nodded at once, sparing one last bow for Laerlin. "Thank you again, we appreciate your care for the girl."

  Laerlin dips her head to Haneth and Thorvall, saying, "Just doing my duty as a healer," then limps her way out of there.

  Thorvall frowned at the door, as if the oaken portal would light a candle, burning down through the hours until they had to return with their charge. "Come, Haneth..." He spoke softly. "I've spent enough time here."

  Haneth fell into step behind him. She stitched her gaze to his mantle and avoided Watcher's gaze or glance behind. Her purse felt lighter, and she felt the better for it. "As always," she nodded, "I follow."

[lotrologs]

Arra, Haneth

The knocks came in threes, each set quicker than the last. Then finally the door was tried, and found unlocked, swung open to permit soft-soled boots march across the stone. Haneth strode into the doorway, her frown wasted no time searching for Laerlin, but better luck – Arra lay asleep in the bed nearby. Quietly the huntress changed her gait from war march to scout patrol, and slipped towards her, kneeling by the dulled fire to add some tinder to its gasping coals.

Neyarra l The little brigand girl could almost be called cute as she lay there sleeping, her breath coming in and out of her nose with a light snore. Bandages covered her upper arm on one side, and a blanket lay half-on and half-dangling off her, revealing the back of her pants which were stained with dry blood. Her eyes flitted open as the door closed and her face lit up upon recognizing a familiar face. “Haneth!” she remarked sleepily.

Haneth lay the wood back into its holder and slowly rose. The face she wore was not eager to smile. She stood over Arra, her green eyes firm but cooling from an earlier ire. “Arion told me what happened,” she began at once. “I have to tell you I am disappointed in the way you handled things, Arra.”

Neyarra l As quickly as it had lit up, the girl’s face fell to the expression worn by a stubborn child being scolded by a parent. “Arion wasn’t there, so that means Dynnie told ‘em what she wanted them to think and they believed her. Well, she started it, her and her stupid dog.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared stubbornly up at Haneth.

Haneth‘s tone did not retreat, her frown did not slacken, but she did move forward and sit on the bed beside Arra. “I believe you,” she said with no less anger in her voice. Picking up the blanket’s hem she rolled it up to Arra’s shoulders. “And I believe what you say Vini did to you, but attacking Cyndyn, whether she started it or not, is not the way to handle it.”

Neyarra opened her mouth to respond with some sort of reason that she was in the right, but instead she simply sighed, fingers curling around the edge of the blanket and tugging it closer. “I wasn’t gonna,” she said finally. “But she kept saying stuff that made me mad. Then I couldn’t take it anymore. She said I was lying and Agamaran knew it and you thought I was lying and that I was a brigand and a thief and a liar. So I stabbed her.”

Haneth’s gaze grimaced, tightening around a deepening frown. “Arra,” she warned, her hand gentle on the girl’s shoulder but steel in her voice. “I thought I had taught you better than to draw a weapon against words.”

Neyarra glared at the ceiling. “On the streets, you’ve gotta fight or get beat up ‘cause you’re not fighting. People push you around if you’re quiet and weak, and they leave you alone if you’re loud and you have a knife. Besides, she was just trying to get me to fight her so she could get me arrested like Vinicio did.”

Haneth lowered her voice, allowing some softness to creep back in. “You are no longer on the streets. You are part of this family, now. You have a home, and you have me.” She slid closer down the mattress so they could speak in intimate tones. “I will do everything I can to protect you, and that is more than empty words. So do not go fighting battles on your own. Not when you have a warband at your back and a sister who would die for you.”

Neyarra l Arra’s hard stare and frowning melted into a soft gaze and a smile. “I know,” she murmured, shifting in her position on the bed, causing it to groan. She reached a dirty hand to grasp one of Haneth’s. “You horse-people are good at killing bad guys. Not like me. I can’t even stab someone enough times to win. Instead, I get stabbed in the butt and fall asleep.” She scowled at herself.

Haneth interlinked their fingers and held the grip firm, hooking her gaze on Arra till her words were heard. “Promise me you will not do it again. You will not draw your weapon unless under real threat of danger.”

Neyarra met her gaze, then lowered it and traced instead the pattern of Haneth’s outfit absently. “I promise,” she said at last, before adding, “Maybe I should take my bow instead, ‘cause I can shoot things a lot better than I can stab them.”

“Look at me,” Haneth commanded, almost pleading. “I know you understand what I am saying, and I know you can answer. Please, Arra…” Her gaze dropped to the Bree-woven blanket, the distinct lack of patterns of the Mark, the dry colors. Her brow buckled, creasing her forehead in pain. “I need to protect you, but I cannot if you do not understand. This is not just some argument.” Her eyes rose, and the firmness had drawn back to reveal the quivering black hearts within. “Real danger is coming, and I do not know if I will be able to stop it. Please, do not add wood to the fire when I am trying to put out the spark.”

Neyarra l At Haneth’s command, Arra’s gaze moved back upward. “Real danger?” she asked, “Like with Vinicio? I thought you said that we had a warband with us. Can’t they kill him like they did with the hill-people who weren’t actual hills in Rohan? There were lots of them and only one of him. And only one Dynnie.”

Haneth set another soft hand on Arra’s. “We thought that when the King of brigands, Kaenwynn, as he was called, was killed, then there would be peace.” She looked away, her strictness flaking away like rust, till the brittle corrosion exposed underneath. “But his death gave rise to others. My own cousin, Holliwen…she was gone after that. I tried to save her but…” She swallowed down the memory of bile and blood and a jail cell’s mouldering hay. “Vinicio is dangerous, and he is not alone. We do not know who else is out there – who attacked him, who attacked Cyndyn. They may not be friends. To do this…what they have done…I cannot believe they could be.”

Neyarra stared wide-eyed at Haneth at mention of Holliwen and her relationship to her. Apparently this fact was enough to make her forget to keep anything secret. “You’re Holliwen’s cousin? I met her once, before she left and died somewhere. She made Adyfan our leader, but then she left us too. She’s probably dead, too.” She frowned. “What’d the people do?” she asked.

Haneth’s features gave way one by one as the pallor drew across her face like coming night. “Arra…” Her hand slipped away and curled into itself to keep from trembling. “What did you just say? She…made Adyfan –your– leader?”

Neyarra blinked at Haneth, her slightly-muddled mind taking a moment to realize the significance of what had just transpired. Upon coming to this realization, her skin paled and her eyes fell to the details of the mattress. “They-they helped me,” she murmured. “Got me off the streets and into an actual bed, in Holliwen’s big house. All I had to do was help make money with them, and Edna helped me too.” She dared not look Haneth in the eye.

”Edna,” Haneth croaked, wrinkling the blanket in a tightening fist. “Edna who Cyndyn said attacked her.” She stood, turning away from Arra and the dead fire. “Holliwen had others…followers, her own band. I never knew. How did I…” She devolved into muttering, catching the bedpost with a palm to keep from stumbling far. “And you were part of them.” Then she turned with a shock. “-Are- you part of them?”

Neyarra winced as Haneth spoke, and as she watched her move away, her stomach felt like it was being forcefully twisted into knots. “Edna’s my friend – she wouldn’t attack her for no reason.” The words rang hollow, and even Arra knew it. “Haneth,” she pleaded, though she did not know what for, exactly. Forgiveness? Simply for being part of a group that had helped her? “Haneth…” She reached for her, touching her shoulder.

Haneth ‘s fingers fell on hers like rain. “Arra.” She promised she was there, still listening. She turned around but would not meet her eyes to spare her the disappointment festering. “Not now. We need to talk, but not now.” Stepping forward she drew Arra up in an embrace that would have lifted her off the bed, if Haneth had the strength. “Rest, rest and I will take care of this. Please.”

Neyarra pressed herself into Haneth, desperate for something to let her know that the truth did not change their relationship, that which she treasured most. She slowly fell back into the bed and curled up beneath her blanket, tears running down her face.

Haneth soothed her first with whispers and then a lullaby, deep and rolling like an oaken cradle creaking. “Sleep my Arra,” she muttered between Rohirric verses. “You are, and are always, family. Sleep.” Her fingers brushed away the hair from her sister’s face and the tears from her scuffed cheeks. “Sleep and be safe. Please, please be safe.”

Neyarra l Haneth’s voice seemed to sooth the rusty-haired brigand-girl, and the tide of tears seemed to subside. She closed her eyes, still trembling from the whole ordeal, short and physically painless as it was, and soon her slow snoring filled the room once more.

[lotrologs]

Cyndyn, Haneth

Cyndyn sat on a bed as a healer came to check her leg and inspect the stitches before moving on. The young woman's features were covered in dark bruises, scrapes and minor cuts. Her hands suffered the same. Yet on her thigh rested a nasty cut held closed by stitches and then covered in bandages as the healer departed once more. Dyn sighed, tugging up the blankets again as she sank back against the creaking mattress.

  Haneth arrived on soft footsteps, nothing to wake the sleepers. It was her brow, furrowed and shadowed, one corner split by scars, that made her anger known. “Cyndyn.” Never had a hare uttered a growl, but this was the closest it came. “What did you do?”

  Cyndyn looked at the other woman, her brows shooting upwards a she bolted upright and pressed back against the bed frame. "She started it! She cornered me on the road and insulted Brutus! Then we argued and she drew a knife! I defended myself!" She yelped, her eyes wide as she stared at Haneth.

  Haneth sat down on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense. Her goose-fletching stole almost ruffled. “You two are not to see each other again. Am I clear?” The command could not have been stronger if she had yelled it.

  Cyndyn shifted upon the lumpy bed, her arms crossing as she looked down hard at the covers. "I didn't go looking for her Haneth. She stopped me on the road. I was going to Cartwell's and had Brutus with me." She bit out, her lips twisting into a faint grimace.

  Haneth’s green eyes did not flinch. “Then you should not be going to Cartwell’s.” Her tone was not hard, but firm. “I will arrange it so you need not run errands for the healers. It is not your responsibility, anyway, and Combe is no place for you now.” Her tone softened as her wood-sanded calluses reached for Cyndyn’s dish-soap softened hands. “Until we know who did this to Vini and why, I don’t want you going where the Watchers do not patrol or where the townspeople turn their heads away from violence in the streets.” Her hand squeezed the maiden’s. “Wars in Bree are different than the ones you have witnessed in the south, and I can smell one coming like a storm on the wind. You must be careful, not just for your sake, or Vini’s, but for all of us.”

  Dyn's head lowered and she dropped her gaze from Haneth. Her anger cooling as quickly as it had come. She nodded, biting her lower lip for a brief moment as she offered Haneth a gentle squeeze of her hands in return.  "Yes Haneth.. I'm sorry. I-I.. I never meant to hurt her that much and I came straight here for help.. I never thought she would pass out on the cobbles." Her voice broke and became watery. "She said Lord Thorvall wants to string up Vini.."

  Haneth leaned forward, lowering her tone.  “No one…” She laid the words out, brick by brick. “…can say what Lord Thorvall wants, but Lord Thorvall.” She took Cyndyn beneath an arm mantled with feathers from broken arrows, and drew her close. “I will talk to Arra, and see if we can put a stop to this. You have to understand, whether or not Vini is telling the truth, or whether or not Arra is, they hurt each other, and that is not easy for either of them, no matter who was in the wrong.” She reached behind her own neck to brush away the tickling feathers, but touched bare skin. The chills, it seemed, had come from elsewhere. “I am not blaming you for what happened, but please, be more careful.”

  Dyn nodded slowly in response to Haneth's quiet, firm toned words. She remained silent for long moments afterward, her scraped up hands closing and twisting the linen sheets. "Yes Haneth." She spoke softly, her blue eyed gaze rising and falling from the other woman. "I.." She stopped and paused, shaking her head and letting her bangs fall forward into her bruised features. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden."

  “No,” she charged. “Never that.” She pressed her forehead to Cyndyn’s hair, hiding the grey in her eyes. “If you were a burden, why would we try so hard to keep you safe?”

  Dyn paused, her frame slouching to lean against Haneth as the older woman pressed close. "Because I cause you so much trouble...?" She bit her lower lip, her brows furrowed high. "I'm always scared that you'll get sick of me and want me to leave.."

  Haneth sat up and shoved space between them until their eyes met. “Is that why you left?” she pleaded, her green eyes yoked with worry. “Is that why you ran?”

  Dyn shook her head, her eyes eyes rose and tears stung them  and her throat closed up. "No, Vini... He.. After he healed enough.. He was scared.. Worried that he couldn't protect me... Or himself. He.. He lost his family Haneth.. Before.. Long ago.." She trailed off looking to the man in question.

  “And so have you.” Her thumb brushed against Cyndyn’s cheek between the bruises. “So have I.”

  Dyn shook her head, "Not like Vini. My grandparents are still alive.. I-I never knew or cared about my father.. He.. never counted. Vini was close to his family.. I think. The way he talks about the farm and the hounds there.." She bit her lower lip and ducked her head. "Vini told me pack, and I did.. Haneth, I never knew how long we'd be gone or where we were going. I wanted to send word, I really did." She whispered, her voice watery. "But.. I can't write.. so.. so when I knew where we were going.. I-I.. Vini said it wasn't safe to send messages that far or.. or that it might fall into the wrong hands.."

  Haneth listened, her hand silent on Cyndyn’s shoulder. “Then here is what we will do,” she whispered, leaning closer. Her fingers dipped into the purse buckled at her belt and removed a small pouch, evergreen, embroidered with a rampant mare. Its mane was stitched with gold. “I want you to take this, and let it remind you that you have friends here. And this…” From the same pouch she pulled out a spare bowstring, a flawless taut cord she had been saving for a different emergency. “Tie this around the nearest yew tree, or ash if you cannot find one, and I will know you are safe.”

  Cyndyn blinked, her brows furrowing as she looked down at the purse and bowstring. "But.. but I'm not going away now.. I-I.. Should I do that every day? What if I can't find a yew or ash tree? What if you can't find the tree that I tied it on and then you worry.. or what if someone takes or if a bear eats it?" Her voice was a soft worried whisper, and she eyed the purse. "That stitching is too nice.. what if I get robbed?"

  “No one robs an empty purse,” she said, fingering the hem open and slipping the coiled sinew into its belly. “And nothing will eat a bowstring.” She pressed the gift into her Cyndyn’s palm and held her closed fingers around it. “If you cannot find ash or yew, find oak, or holly, any tree that reminds you of this place. And I will find it.” She gave the hand around the pouch a squeeze. “I promise.”

  Dyn chewed her lower lip, her gaze falling to the pouch and she returned the gentle squeeze. "I-I.. I'll try to keep it with me, but.. only.. only I have a reason to leave and can't tell you.." She exhaled a breath, leaning her shoulder against Haneth's frame. "I don't want to do that again though.. I .. I worried Vini those days so much when we had left like that. I was.. I was upset to have left everyone like that."

  Haneth’s fingers slipped away, leaving the purse in Cyndyn’s care. “It was unfair to you, what he did.” Not once had she looked at the man stretched out behind her, his back wrapped in bandages rising in the only rhythm she trusted – steady, silent sleep. “I understand why you went. Though I cannot say I think anyone I loved would steal me away from my home and family.” A shadow crept into her eyes. “I need to speak with Arra. I do not want you anywhere near her until I have sorted this mess out. If you see her, walk the other way, and I will tell her to do the same. Do you understand?”

  Dyn dropped her gaze from Haneth, her fingers twisting at the strings of the purse left in her hands. "He wanted to protect me.. I had been attacked.. And he was scared that they planned to kill me.. If he hadn't come home when he did.." She winced. "He was doing what he thought was best.. and I.. I should've.. I'm sorry Haneth. I'm sorry." She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. "I should've stayed with you.."

  “Quiet now,” she encouraged, drawing Cyndyn back into the fold of her feathered shoulder. “What is done is done. You are here now, and you are safe, and we are going to keep you that way.”

  The young woman sighed, cradling herself closer to Haneth and wrapping her arms around Haneth's frame. "I'm sorry Haneth." She mumbled softly, her head resting against Haneth's feathered shoulder.

  “So am I.” She kissed Cyndyn’s forehead and looked sadly down at her cuts and bruises, mere echoes of the deeper scars she bore. “Get some rest. I brought you a basket of food and some wine. It will be waiting for you when you wake. I will come again tomorrow to check on you.”

  Dyn sighed as she drew away from Haneth, her hands reaching up to twist her hair back from her features and twist it to the back of her neck. "Thank you.. I.." She hung her head and trailed off, stopping the rest of her sentence. "Thank you." She repeated, softly as she leaned back into the mattress.

  Haneth stood and tugged at the sheets till they were freed. Moving about the bed as she would a thicket full of beasts, on silent soles with muted breath, she drew the blanket over the girl and tucked it over her shoulders. “Sleep, and stay safe,” she whispered with a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep.”

  Dyn smiled faintly as she settled in as Haneth drew the sheets and blankets up over her battered figure. A yawn escaped her lips and she let her eyes drift shut and slip into a gentle slumber.

[lotrologs]

Haneth, Agamaran

It was mid-day when Agamaran came walking up the path to the familiar halls. He passed servants in the street, and the door guard gave him an unsavory sort of look as he climbed the steps and wiped his mud-caked boots. There was a time when he would've simply scaled the cliff that the hall was built in to, traipsed around the roof, and climbed through a window to avoid all unnecessary attention, but he figured if there ever came a time when he needed these people to be on his side or to help in him some way, then he would need to become familiar with them. Well, perhaps not familiar, but at least recognizable. As he entered the entryway and hung up his cloak and left his quiver, bow, and pack at the door, he took in the smell of the place. He did not care for most of the smells--instead he as trying to find the one smell that had become familiar with him.

  Haneth was busy at the breakfast table, piling apples into a basket and wrapping lamb pies in cloth. She strapped a wineskin across her shoulder and hoisted the swollen leather onto her hip. Then out from behind the table, a tiny hand emerged slow as a snake, sliding towards the platter of biscuits. "Nimue, no." Haneth disappeared behind the table, the crown of pale hair just visible as she knelt to lift her daughter. "What did I tell you about stealing?"

  He stepped into the hall and watched her for a while. When she picked up her daughter, he cleared his throat and then walked to her slowly. "Preparing for a feast?" he said, looking over the selection on the table.

  Haneth hooked Nimue onto her hip to balance the wineskin propped on the other side. "No, I am taking supplies to Cyndyn. The girl hasn't eaten in days and the Watch won't feed much to her." Even from the height of her mother's arms Nimue reached for the biscuit, clenching her little fists and straining as if the effort would grow her arms. Haneth ignored the toddler's puffed red cheeks and only held her firmly.

  He picked up one of the biscuits and inspected it, smelling it deeply. He was fond of the biscuits--not for its taste, but for its smell. The smell reminded him of something dear to him. But that memory was soured when he frowned at the mention of Cyndyn. "I tried to convince her to leave--to come back here and get some rest. That girl will catch death if she remains as she is, and she stubbornly will not see it."

  Nimue began to press her chubby fingers into Haneth's shoulder to try and pry herself from the hold, but Haneth seemed wholly un-phased by the effort. She reached for a few biscuits and wrapped them in a napkin, tying the ends deftly with one hand. "Which is why I am going to her. She sleeps a little when I watch Vini for her, and she eats what I bring her. When he is fit to move she will return." Her frown inched in. "When I am there I must bring him back with me. There is a cart ready to take me to Bree and fetch him."

  Agamaran sighed under his breath. "You should not be putting yourself at risk like this," he began, and put the biscuit back down on the table. "And this is Thorvall's plan? Return the man here and let him recuperate in his halls?" His lips pursed in frustration. "This only puts you in danger instead."

  "In danger of what?" She folds the cloth over the basket brimming with food. "Will he attack me in the cart? He can barely move, can barely endure an hour of pain without an herb to soothe him. What danger am I facing?"

  He lowered his voice, as well as his brow, as he listened to her skepticism. "He will heal over time here. He will become comfortable, and you will let your guard down. And that is when he would strike at you, or Cyndyn, or anyone else." He finally gave recognition to Nimue when he looked down at her as he finished his words.

  Haneth's eyes hardened as she hoisted her daughter higher on her hip. "I will not let anything happen to her," she declared with all authority, the scars around her eyes deep as wrinkles.

  He said nothing in return, simply picking up the biscuit again and pocketing it within a pouch on his belt. He stared over all the foods on the table and leaned upon it as he took in a deep sigh. "For many years I have counseled the Oathsworn," he said to her quietly. "For many years they have ignored me on every issue. Elanwen, for instance, never once took the advice I gave to her on whether it was a smart idea to harbor the children of our enemies. Even when the plans ultimately back-fired and calamity struck, never once was my counsel heeded afterward." He rose again and stood tall before her. "And now I am asking the woman that I love to take my advice this once--just this once--and believe I may have an inkling of what may befall these halls if you bring that villain here, and even she will not heed my words." He ran a gloved hand through his hair as he sighed deeply and looked down at his boots. It did not sound as if he was finished speaking, but he was.

  A sigh brushed Nimue's curls, making the girl wince. Haneth bent to set her down, and at once the child was off, scampering to a corner of the hall to find a mouse to chase. Haneth turned to the Ranger and set her palm on the basket handle. She did not look weary, but only tired, exhausted by the day but ready to rise and face another next dawn. "Very...well," she breathed, steeling herself. "I will ask Thorvall the wisdom of his plan." She looked in his eyes. "If he does not change his mind, I cannot disobey him, but I will do for you what I can."

  He came close to her then and held her at her arms and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Thank you," he said to her quietly, and it sounded as if he meant it. He continued to hold her at arm's length. He did not look her in the eye, but rather left his gaze to look at the crown of her flaxen head.

  Her voice came to him soft as if through rain. "Agamaran, what is it?" She touched his cheek, her fingers rough with callouses, her pressure gentle.

  He touched her hair and ran his fingers through the length. "Nothing," he said somewhat unconvincingly. "You have enough to worry about already."

  She stepped closer, her hand sliding down his cheek to rest on his shoulder. "And you worry too much for the two of us. What is it?"

  "It is my duty to worry," he said to her as he began to play with a strand of her hair. "So let me worry." He placed another gentle kiss on her forehead then. "I should go," he said, although it did not sound as if he wanted to.

  "Wait-" She pressed closer to him, closing her eyes. "You want to protect me," she whispered. "This I know, but I cannot protect myself if you keep secrets."

  "Some secrets are best kept as secrets," he said to her in a low tone as his lips came close to her ear. "I know the years I have over you give you reason to pause, Haneth. I do not wish to upset you or trouble your mind of my past. It is not important." He continued to play with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger, then unraveling it slowly and repeating the process over.

  She leaned into him, seeking the warmth of his breath. "I am not troubled by how many years are yours, but how few are mine." Her fingers traced his shoulder laces. "I cannot be the woman you need if you do not let me. How can I grow older for you if you wish to keep me so young?"

  "I do not wish for you to remain young, Haneth," he said, sighing over her. "You are already older than your true age from the things you have seen and have experienced." He stopped playing with her hair then. "Every time you leave and return, you grow older. Such is time, which is the only thing that we have."

  "Then share it with me," she whispered, her tone pained. "Trust me. You are wrapped in shadow." She kissed his shoulder, his neck. "I do not want to love only half a man."

  "Perhaps," he said, as he held her at her sides. "One day. But not this day." He looked over her shoulder to try and find her small child. "This day you have more important things to be concerned about."

  Her forehead tipped against him and she yielded. Breathing deeply of his pine scent and leather, she curled into his arm. "You are here, and you are safe."

  He embraced her fully then, pulling her closely into his chest. "As are you," he said to her softly. "As are you..." he repeated the words to himself.

  She pulled away from him and hooked her finger in his. Guiding him towards the corner of the hall she called for her daughter, who was on her hands and knees looking for knots in the wall where a mouse might hide.

"Nimue, come." The child looked up, her features snapping out of their scrunched concentration. She pushed herself to her feet and hobbled over, smiling up at the man, though he looked as friendly as the stuffed bear statue growling high above them.

"Bear!" she pointed at the dark scowl and giggled.

"No, Nimue, that's Agamaran." She sat down on the floor though the chairs were empty and pulled her daughter into her lap. "What do we say to new people?"

"Wet-soo hawl." Nimue clapped her hands.

"Westu Hal. That's right." She kissed the toddler's curls, earning a grimace and a fresh rush of rouge to tiny freckled cheeks. "Westu hal, Agamaran."

  Agamaran looked utterly confused as he looked from Nimue to Haneth and back. "Suilad melon, Nimue," he intoned back to the small child. He cleared his throat as he came to his knees on the floor before the both of them. He remained quiet as he studied the child like he would some wild flower he did not recognize or know in the wild.

  "Sa-lan," she repeated, then slapped her open hands against her mouth as she giggled. Haneth wrapped her arm around the toddler's waist as she fidgeted and almost toppled out of her lap. "You don't have to be afraid," she smiled, the worry from before passing away like clouds across the sky. "She only bites when she's angry."

  He smiled a little as she tried to mimic the words he spoke. He did not look up to Haneth when she spoke, and instead pondered what he should do next. So he removed the biscuit from the pouch on his belt, and broke a piece of it off and ate it. He then broke off another significantly smaller piece and offer it to Nimue.

  Nimue's arms flapped so hard she almost took flight, but Haneth held on. The girl strained for the biscuit until buckets of red popped in her cheeks. She squealed and only the munching she viciously set to would quiet her.

"She has always been lively, vivacious," she smiled and kissed the freckles through her daughter's hair. "Just like her father."

  He risked a true smile as he watched her greedily devour the piece of biscuit he offered to her. But the smile relented somewhat at the mention of the child's father. "She is happy to be with her mother," he said, looking up to Haneth then.

  "I know. I know she is." She thumbed the crumbs away from Nimue's swollen cheeks. Looking up at Agamaran, she smiled. "She would be happy to know you better."

  "Hm." He was unsure of what to say to that, so he simply looked back down at her and watched her with interest. He broke off another small piece of the biscuit then and offered it to her again.

  Encouraged by her lover's distraction, she let slip a mischievous smile. Her eyes glittered though the scars at the corner of her lips twisted. Her hands slackened, and at once Nimue was free. The child collapsed but quickly regained herself, tripping over her mother's legs as she fought to climb them. She reached for the biscuit and had just tasted victory when she fell almost immediately towards Agamaran's arms.

  Agamaran's smile was replaced by confusion as Haneth set loose her cub. As she waddled her way to him, he seemed to straighten. But when she fell, he grabbed her before he could find the floor. He held her by her tiny arms as she stood up before him. He turned his head to the side as he studied her. Slowly, he offered up the piece of biscuit to her face.

  Haneth pressed her own fingers to her lips to hide her growing grin. She leaned back, allowing her hair to fall as an extra disguise half-across her eye, while she watched her beloved at the only task with which she had seen him struggle.

Nimue's fingers closed around the biscuit to steady it, then chomped down with her gummy mouth around more finger than treat as she drooled down his ancient ring-ed hand.

"Oh, Valar," Haneth chimed with a laugh like frolicking. "Have you ever been so beset, Ranger?"

  He grimaced at the drool and wiped it off on the child's clothes. "A nursery is no place for a Ranger," he said as he tried to turn the child and pointed at Haneth. "Go," he said somewhat gently, "Return to your mother." He looked at her expectantly.

  "Oh no, I have to wash that," she chuckled as she reached for her daughter just as the toddler attempted to climb Agamaran by stepping onto his boot. "No, now. That's not Caradras."

  He eyed the child with caution as she attempted to explore his person. When she was whisked away by her mother's arms, he seemed to relax again, although he idly kept trying to wipe his hand clean against his pants. He remained silent, unsure of what to say or do.

  Nimue munched on her biscuit, like a pixie, so small she had room for only one distraction at a time. Haneth peered over her daughter's shoulder with more probing eyes. "Is this how you will play with our children?"

  The air escaped Agamaran as he froze over like the wastelands of Forochel. He tensed and his hands gripped as he was completely caught off guard. "Ah," he said, clearing his throat excessively, "Well, um." He looked anywhere but at Haneth. Finally, he decided on an escape route. "First we must be wed." He froze again.

  Haneth stroked her daughter's hair until the child chewed quietly. "When I was a child," she said, easing Nimue into her lap as the child stared vacantly over her treat. "My father, mother, brother and I shared one bed. We lived in one room. We had no one but each other, and it was my father who taught me to shoot, to skin rabbits, to pluck chickens and carve wood." She kissed Nimue's head as the child munched on. "I would hope that maybe, you could have some similar influence on our own sons and daughters."

  He scratched his head absently as he mulled over her words. "I grew up in a household, Haneth," he said, and he began to relax again, yet seemed pensive. "We had servants and maids who took care of many of our things. My mother would often try to spend time with us, but my father had...other plans. By the age of six, he began to discipline us in the ways of the city, and what it meant to be of the Dunedain." He rubbed at his hands absently. "By the age of ten I was serving in the navy as a piper aboard a galley." He found his familiar boots again, and focused on them. "There was little love in my house, and if there was ever much of a chance it was lost when my mother died. My father was never quite the same afterward."

  Haneth looked down as the last secret unrolled. She wrapped her arms around her daughter's waist. The child's free hands began to braid her mother's hair, though the attempt yielded nothing but tangles.

"You will be a better father than him." Her face burned beneath her flesh as she stared at the knots in the oak.

  "Hm." Agamaran did not seem entirely convinced by her assertion, or whether or not it would come to pass. He stood up then, looking around the hall as if trying to find something else to busy himself with. When he could find no excuse to distract himself with, he returned his attention back to her. "Well, I suppose I should be on my way." The tone was somewhat cold, as if the recent topic had made him more distant than usual.

  Haneth watched him rise, keeping hold of her daughter. A brief pain pinched her features, but it was gone when she looked away.

  He bowed his head to her. "I hope the rest of the day serves you well, Haneth." He turned to walk out of the hall then.

  Haneth bowed over her daughter's head, as if needing a place to rest. She breathed quietly into Nimue's thin hair and stroked her with one bare finger around her ear. The child's sticky fingers tugged on the chain around Haneth's neck, two rings, one gold and wrought from modest skill and great care, another silver, a bright gem clasped in talon's claws. Nimue put both in her mouth and rolled them around untill Haneth rescued them and tucked them back into the tunic laced under her robes, cold against her breast. "Come on Nimue, let’s find Thorvall," she said as she listened to the door close, and kissed the girl between her wide blue eyes.