#aelinril

Most of the beds stood empty, freshly made and ready for use should they be needed. And the ones occupied he could see, the Elves slept peacefully, resting from long labors or deep hurts. There was, however, a small bustle of hushed activity in a back corner of the hall, so Halthiras was naturally drawn in that direction, with steps deliberate rather than idle.

A cluster of healers stood around two beds, murmuring among themselves as they worked. It was another Elf nearby, differently clad and standing as if to guard the invalids, who noticed his curiosity.

She gave him a questioning look of her own, one brow arched in silent wonder of his purpose.

"Is everything alright?" he asked at the prompting in her eyes.

"As it can be," she replied, concerned gaze lingering once more on the Elves in the beds before she looked back at him. "The last and most gravely wounded from our battle at the end of the Age. We hold hope of healing their wounds ere they succumb, but the servants of the Enemy did them great harm. Hithgol" --she nodded to the male Elf, dark hair, and his face twisted in uneasy slumber--"was struck by what weapon we know not, but its effect on him is most grievous. And Aelinril"--a gesture to the female Elf, long brown hair and features only faintly troubled for the moment--"was pierced by a morgûl-blade, a foul weapon wielded by the chief of the Enemy's servants, meant to linger and wither those it wounds until they are mere shades bound to his will."

One of the healers, indeed, was tending a wound in Aelinril's shoulder, not yet closing though the battle was a century past.

"Why does it refuse to heal?" Halthiras found himself asking.

The guarding Elf shook her head. "They know not. Some foul magic of the Enemy. And so they work on, to delay the fading until a cure is found."

"Is the aught I can do?" He had not seen the great and terrible battle of the Last Alliance, but it made his heart sit heavy that some remained still suffering so.

She studied him. "Unless you are practised in the healing arts, I fear watching over them is the only aid to offer." A sad smile played at her lips. "If you wish to do so, I would welcome the company in my vigil."

"Then you have it," he said with a bow. "When I can lend it."

"Indeed? And might I know the name of my new companion?"

"Halthiras of Imladris," he said.

"Ah, this is your home," she said, smile tinged with melancholy. She placed a hand to her chest and bowed low in returned greeting. "Harthalín, previously of Gondolin and elsewhere, though now I suppose my vigil makes Imladris my home as well." She looked to the beds. The healers had withdrawn from Aelinril, but two lingered over Hithgol. "Aelinril is one of my dearest friends, and Hithgol a brave comrade in arms. I will remain here as long as I may, to watch over them until Lord Elrond comes to tend them."

"And... how do we help?" Halthiras asked as he and Harthalín seated themselves in the chairs by Aelinril's bed.

"Simply be here to keep vigil," she answered. "The healers have said there's a chance they can hear us though they slumber, so if you wish to tell tales or sing songs it might ease what dreams they have." Her brow furrowed. "It has not seemed to help Hithgol, but there are times it does appear to hold Aelinril from fading."

He nodded, studying Aelinril's face as she slept. She still looked peaceful, with only the faintest edge of disquiet. "Whatever I can do, though I fear the songs I know are of celebration, merriment, joy. Hopefully the result of this vigil will warrant them, but I'm unsure they would be fitting now."

"Calling to their minds the joys of the world seems a fine way of helping them cling to it," Harthalín said. "And it is the wont of those young and not touched overmuch by loss to focus on such things."

And so was a new habit begun, on a rain-soaked day, in the Hall of Rest in Imladris.

Halthiras would come when he could, even on days Harthalín was absent. Sometimes days in a row, sometimes with weeks in between, though that was rare, through the long years that followed as Master Elrond and the healers endeavored to pull the sleepers from the Shadow.

Harthalín knew all the tales he did, and told them better, so he spoke of the world now. Things he saw on his exploration of the woods, tales and news passed on from scouts who went further afield into the Trollshaws and Lone-Lands. When he was apprenticed to Master Talagan. When his sister was born. He learned the songs of peace Harthalín knew, and sang them.

Hithgol sank into a deeper slumber, where no voice seemed to reach him. Aelinril's dreams grew more troubles by turns, Master Elrond's skill stayed her from fading but did not yet draw her back, and the wound remained in her shoulder.

And still Halthiras came whenever he could. Once or twice, as she came of age, he convinced his sister to visit, but Hiraneth was too restive enjoy long days of peaceful vigil. He talked to Harthalín, heard her tales of resisting Morgoth, the glory and peace of Gondolin, the might and deeds of Turgon, Glorfindel, Gil-galad and others, alongside reminisces of quieter blissful days over centuries building her friendship with Aelinril.

Some days, when he kept vigil alone, he would braid Aelinril's hair if her dreams grew especially troubled. Like he did for Hiraneth, a simple plait meant to keep it from tangling. And he would sing the songs he learned from Harthalín as well as the ones he knew, and speak of his lessons with Master Talagan, his parent's decision to leave for the Havens. The things Hiraneth would tell him she had seen, grey eyes alight and gestures avid as she explained.

He wondered what color Aelinril's eyes were. But they remained closed, though her dreams eventually seemed to grow more peaceful under Master Elrond's ministrations.

And so it went through the centuries, as the world rolled on outside the valley. It was with mingled joyous anticipation and regret Halthiras told Harthalín--and by extension Aelinril--of his master's decision they would go study at Edhelion for a time. He was excited to travel further than the valleys of his home he knew so well, to see the world a little and study at an Elven refuge known for its history and beauty. But an absence of months or years would be an odd change; he would miss his time with them in Tham Send. Harthalín encouraged the former while understanding the latter.

"I have found myself in new homes a few times in my life," she said with a wistful smile, "it can take time to adjust. But you will not be gone forever, and I will send word of any changes. You have spoken often of how you love to study and explore, you should enjoy the opportunity to do both to the full." She gave his arm a bracing squeeze. "I shall keep my vigil and look forward to your return."

With her blessing and a final farewell, unheard as it likely was, to Aelinril and Hithgol, Halthiras departed for Edhelion alongside Master Talagan and a select company of others, including Hiraneth. Edhelion was wonderful; woods and libraries to explore in equal measure, a place of safety, beauty, and learning. And he did enjoy it. But a portion of of his thoughts remained on Imladris always; missing home, missing the vigil he'd kept in Tham Send. He only made it a year before writing to Harthalín to ask how things stood. Her reply was a few months coming, and what he expected. No change, Hithgol still slept so deeply nothing disturbed him, Aelinril was more prone to restless dreams alternating with peaceful slumber. Perhaps she would wake soon, perhaps not, even Master Elrond did not know. He had some thoughts of cures to try, she would write with updates. And she did, though they were sporadic and rarely altered in content. They both sleep still, but there are more things to try, and they have not faded. That was something, at least, that they lingered yet. It gave hope they would wake eventually, and the Elves could wait long for such a change.

And then came news, in the form of Master Elrond visiting Edhelion. Halthiras had been hoping for a letter from Harthalín, as it had been moths since the last. But though Master Elrond brought no letter, he bore the same glad tidings a missive would have contained.

Aelinril had awakened. Only briefly, before lapsing back into slumber. But it was now the sleep of true rest, untroubled by lingering Shadow. He had every hope for Hithgol as well, indeed, he had come to avail himself of Edhelion's libraries for ways to further ease their slumber, and record the cures that had been successful in treating morgûl-blade wounds, should such knowledge be needed.

"Centuries keeping vigil and keeping hope, and she wakes when I am absent," Halthiras commented to his sister, amused at the timing more than anything.

"Yes, but she woke," Hiraneth returned. "With every indication now that she shall do so again, with the other hopefully not far behind. Focus on that, rather than regret you were elsewhere at the time."

There was wisdom in her words, and he knew it, though she was the younger. "I am sure Harthalín is greatly relieved by this turn, the proving her vigil has not been in vain for her friend." He drew a deep breath, resting one hand on the carven rail as he looked out to forest. "As for myself, I shall enjoy the time here, and hope for more such turns after we are home in Imladris once more."

It was a return marked rather more by sorrow and loss than anticipated. Only a few short weeks after Master Elrond's arrival came an assault by the Dourhand dwarves. By the time they were driven back and their leader killed, the attack had cost much--Edhelion lay in ruins, its libraries destroyed and a great many lives lost in its defense, including Master Talagan.

Harthalín did not press for details when he rejoined her in Tham Send, did not ask him to speak of his mentor, and Halthiras was grateful. There was an understanding in her eyes, a familiarity with grief too near and new, and she let him hold his silence. Which he did, on the days he joined her. But despite the shift in Aelinril's condition and the hope it heralded, he found the forests called to him more than before. The rustle of wind through leaves was a balm to his grief, and he spent much time walking the woods or sitting under trees to heal his heart. It took centuries for the pain to ease, but it did ease. And as it did he found himself in Tham Send more and more again, the peace of the Hall equal to the peace of the woods once more. First in silent vigil, but on an occasion Harthalín was absent he spoke of the loss to Aelinril. Unsure whether she could even hear or not--he almost hoped not--but needing to speak of it to someone, and Hiraneth's anger had driven her to remain in the woods around Edhelion, a watchful guardian of its repose, but also absent from her home. No change came to the sleeping face and he was glad not to disturb her dreams, but speaking of it aloud began the mending.

He began to speak of tales and happenings once more, sing songs both wistful and joyous. Halthiras maintained the renewed vigil through the whispered rumor of returning Shadow, through Dwarves traversing Imladris valley, through Harthalín departing once the Shadow was no longer rumor, foreswearing the Havens until the Enemy she had helped lay low was defeated for good.

"Tell her for me, when she wakes," she asked, and he promised to do so.

But then came word of Dwarves, Dourhands, settling Thorin's Gate, near the ruins of Edhelion. As Master Elrond had recently been given a worrisome dream, he purposed to send his sons and a party of Elves to investigate. He asked Halthiras to be among them, given his close ties to the loss of Edhelion, and in truth, Halthiras would have volunteered if not asked. The next few weeks were full of preparation, wondering if Hiraneth had been the one to send word, and regretting his departure would perhaps mean Aelinril being alone when she woke. He bid her farewell the day before departing so as not to rush, torn between hoping for her to wake soon and hoping for it to be after his return. He tied back her hair once more as she shifted with her dreams.

It was raining as they prepared to leave the next day, a gentle mist the party was protected from by hoods and cloaks. Elladan and Elrohir emerged from their final council with their father, trailed by another hooded figure.

"We go at my father's behest to investigate the Dwarven presence near Edhelion," Elladan addressed those assembled, "but we shall have another companion for part of the journey." He moved to lead the company as he spoke, and Elrohir guided their late addition to join them. "She has been recovering in Tham Send from a most grievous injury and Lord Elrond has given leave for her to depart to the Grey Havens, should she wish to. As our paths align for a time, we shall travel together until Celondim."

Something strange pierced Halthiras' heart at the words. Hope and shock and regret mingled as one. If that meant who he thought...

The figure fell in near him as the Elves began their journey, and one look was all that was necessary. It was her, her hair still tied back as he'd done it. She had awakened at long last and he hadn't been there as he'd promised Harthalín, and now she would be leaving Middle Earth, forever. He wanted to greet her, be courteous, but didn't know how to start.

He caught the knowing look in Elrohir's eye before the son of Elrond spoke. "Aelinril, this is Halthiras, one of my father's household, and a friend I believe would serve well as traveling companion."

She looked at him, then, and her eyes were blue, tinged green, bright and radiant though haunted by long memory. "Halthiras."

He bowed in greeting. "Aelinril."

Their bond brought to mind the one she'd shared once. Her heart clenched at the thought of Erestel. Three thousand years asleep, he was long gone from this world. Aelinril dropped her gaze from the pair to the book in he lap, one of the history tomes Elrond had given her. She'd been struggling to concentrate, wanting to know what happened while she slumbered even if she was leaving, but also wanting to enjoy the journey. There was a freshness to the trees and flowers that was invigorating. So it was on evenings camped she made her best efforts at the tomes accounting for the time she'd missed.

A shadow fell across the page before she'd had time to blink away tears and focus on the words. She tipped her head up to find Halthiras studying her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, compassion in his grey eyes as firelight danced across his face. He was alone, she noted, his bear--his Netil--curled up where they'd been sitting.

Aelinril nodded, drawing a deep breath to settle her words. "I had a memory brought to mind," she said softly, gesturing toward the space next to her. She'd been withdrawn so far in their journey and appreciated his waiting for an invitation.

"One you'd like to talk about, or one you'd rather not?" he asked as he took a seat.

"I'm... not sure," she admitted with a sigh. He simply nodded and sat with her in silence. He had done so since Elrohir suggested him as traveling companion; been content to let her choose when to break silence and when to stay lost in thought, equally comfortable conversing or letting her sort her thoughts in peace. The times they spoke, there was a nagging familiarity, as if she knew him, but he was younger than the Battle that led to her wounding and Un-rest, so how could that be?

Even having yet to solve that mystery, she felt she could trust him, which was probably why she didn't move away from the subject. "How long have you had your bond?" she asked with a nod toward the slumbering bear.

"Oh, not long." The fondness in his smile when he followed her gaze was impossible to miss. "She started trailing me when I would walk in the woods around Imladris, never did anything but watch, so I finally coaxed her over and... made friends." Halthiras shifted on the seat. "Once she trusted me, bonding was easy. Perhaps a year ago?"

"It does work better with established trust," Aelinril murmured, chin resting on her palm to stare into the campfire.

Halthiras gave her a curious look. "You've struck such a bond before, with animals?"

Melancholy tinged her smile, thoughts on the creatures of Nan-tethran and others. "Yes. I had a companion like your Netil once. Erestel." She traced one finger over the pages open in her lap, invisibly outlining a bear's head. "He accompanied me to the Battle, and I don't know what happened to him after because of my injuries, but given how much time passed..."

Halthiras nodded. "Netil is my first such bond, but I'm sure losing one is no small thing."

She hummed to confirm the truth of the words. "And I didn't get to tell him farewell. He wasn't my first bond, but the others I got to be with them at... at the end..."

The words faltered, and she dropped her gaze to the open book, the history of Elves and Dwarves and Men likewise unwitnessed in her slumber. She suddenly felt old and tired and no longer had any hesitation following Lord Elrond's suggestion to leave for the Havens at Mithlond. So many friends and allies she also hadn't been able to bid farewell...

Aelinril started, realizing she'd been silent and staring for a good while. "Sorry-"

Halthiras shook his head. "I understand the weight of grief, even if not so well as you."

A name floated through her thoughts, then. Talagan. It was a name she knew, but secondhand. Someone she'd heard about but never met. Someone she would guess was connected to the grief lurking behind mirth and compassion in Halthiras' eyes. Younger and less touched by it he might be, but he did understand.

"Thank you," she murmured. They sat in silence a few minutes, Halthiras staring into the fire, Aelinril trying to focus on reading, before she spoke again. "I know it's foolish since I'm leaving for Mithlond, but I wish I remembered the bonding. How it works, how it felt..."

She'd always loved animals, but three millennia in dark dreams and nothingness had dimmed much of the knowledge she used to possess. It bothered her, no matter how one could point out she was unlikely to need such a skill when she went into the West.

"If it bothers you overmuch, I could help refresh your memory," Halthiras offered.

It was a more enticing prospect than reading the history of a world she was about to leave. "I would greatly appreciate that," she said, bowing her head in thanks. Was this why Elrohir thought he would make a good traveling companion?

They were up far into the night, as refreshing that skill turned into a discussion of others they shared, and neither noted the passage of time.

---

Travel the next day was uneventful, allowing Aelinril to spend much of her time lost in thought. Thoughts of her discussion with Halthiras the night before, of the events she'd read about, of Erestel and Harthalín and other friends she missed.

Of Theleron.

It was an odd feeling to hope a friend was dead, but the alternative was a thousand years or more in the hands of the Enemy's servants. She didn't speak to anyone all day, her thoughts on everything lost.

It wasn't until evening, after they had set camp and eaten, that she broke her reverie.

"Who's Talagan?" she asked Halthiras, and he actually flinched as he looked up from his book.

"He... was my mentor," he said haltingly. "He died defending Edhelion during Skorgrim's attack."

Aelinril winced. "I'm sorry, I should have known."

"How should you," Halthiras began, then gave her a searching look. "How do you know of him?"

"I... only know the name," she said, resting a hand on his arm for comfort. "A faint memory as a hero from a tale, but bound up in grief."

He shook his head, exhaled a disbelieving laugh. "You actually heard something..."

It was her turn to give a searching look.

"I would sit with your friend Harthalín as she kept vigil for you and Hithgol. We talked, to each other or to... to you two. It was a well-established habit by the time Talagan and I visited Edhelion. I needed to grieve... after, and the woods helped with that, but I did reach a point where I needed to talk about it and... Harthalín was absent, so it spilled out to you." He smiled sheepishly. "I was rather hoping you slept deeply enough to not hear it; I didn't want to burden you or darken your slumber."

"As I said, all I recall is the name." She cocked her head. "And the sense of grief, I suppose." A few moments passed before she asked, "Why were you sitting with Harthalín?"

"I wanted to help." Halthiras looked back to the fire, staring into its depths. "I wasn't able to participate in the Battle, but everyone who did helped protect the world from a great evil. Those still with us--Master Elrond, Harthalín, you--will have my honor and aid."

"A brave promise to make," Aelinril said dryly, though it made her blush to think someone esteemed her so for her part in the battle. That would be why he seems familiar... "I feel you would have been a worthy comrade in arms had you been there."

"I hope so, though I remain mostly untested in that regard," he murmured. "Just a small role in repelling Skorgrim and the Dwarven attack on Edhelion."

"Is that why you're going back?" she asked, withdrawing her hand to rest her chin on her palm. "To aid because Elrond asked it and test your mettle?"

"In part," Halthiras said. "He did choose me, but I was intending to ask to come. In memory of Master Talagan, and to see my sister. She was there as well when Edhelion fell, and her anger at Skorgrim's Dwarves burns such she swore to keep watch over the ruins, safegaurd them from further desecration."

"Well, I wish you a satisfying reunion with her," Aelinril said, shifting in her seat. "And happy as it can be under the circumstances."

He smiled at that. "Thank you. Now, shall we turn our thoughts to happier things for the rest of the evening?"

She nodded in relief. She wasn't made for melancholy, and it hung heavy enough since her waking without dwelling on such dour subjects.

---

They did their best to stay on happier things when they spoke after that. Not an entirely easy practice, given the nature of their journey, but they tried.

Halthiras told her of some happenings in the world, with a much rosier outlook than the dry tomes Lord Elrond had given her. His knowledge was far from complete; he was young and had not yet traveled far from Imladris aside from the ill-fated time at Edhelion. It was still a more hopeful--and entertaining--way to learn the history that had been made she slept.

They spoke a bit of Elrond, more of Harthalín. Halthiras recounted the tales she had spun, Aelinril would smile at the memories, occasionally correcting a detail her best friend had misremembered.

They were only a few days from Celondim when she finally plucked up the fortitude to ask, "I suppose... How long has it been since Harthalín departed for Mithlond?" She had been there in Tham Send when Aelinril woke the first time but not the second and more lasting.

"Oh, she didn't," Halthiras said, ducking his head. "Did you think to look for her in the West?"

Aelinril nodded mutely, processing the revelation. She'd expected her friend to have departed by now. Most of the survivors of the Battle had, if they were able, according to Lord Elrond.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would tell you. She remains in Middle Earth. She has forsworn the Havens and the ship West until the Shadow is truly defeated."

The news of its stirring had perturbed her, Aelinril could only imagine how it would have spurred Harthalín, always the more willing to charge ahead between the two of them.

"She remains to fight?" Aelinril gave a wistful nod when he confirmed it. "That sounds like her." She was quiet a long moment, lost in thought, and Halthiras let her be. "And... what of you?" she finally asked. They'd struck up something of a friendship on this journey, brief as it was. "After your errand to Edhelion is done, will you also fight the rising Shadow?"

The thought made her heart clench--Harthalín knew what she was promising with such a vow. Halthiras was, by his own admission, unacquainted with what it would entail and might require of him.

"I don't know," he said, his voice quiet, after his own moment of thought. "I suppose it will depend on what happens at Edhelion. What we find, what drove some Dwarves to return." He moved as if to stroke Netil's ears, but let his hand fall upon discovering the bear's absence.

"If you do, hold fast the hope in your heart," she advised. "That's the best defense against it. Despair is the Enemy's greatest weapon."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll remember it."

Aelinril was trying to find a way to bend their talk back to something less dire when Netil trundled out of the undergrowth with a friend in tow--one limping heavily.

"Who's this, then?" Halthiras murmured to his bear, who continued to stare at them expectantly.

Aelinril pivoted to examine the newcomer. Male, little more than a cub, a ruff of lighter brown fur behind his ears, and the cause of his limp obvious. A broken branch skewered the edge of his paw, both ends splintered--or chewed--too short for the bear to do anything about it himself. Moving slowly, she knelt and shifted closer.

The bear didn't withdraw.

"This will hurt, but may I help you?" she asked softly, more to soothe with the sound of her voice than anything.

He stood still where he was as she reached for his paw. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a snarl emanated from the jaws just above her head as she worked the branch fragment free. As soon as it was gone, he jerked away and ambled back into the woods with a huff and much diminished limp.

"For a moment, I thought you might have a new friend," Halthiras said, patting Netil's haunch as she settled in with a self-satisfied huff.

"They're not all as yours is," Aelinril returned with a wry smile. She pushed to her feet and tossed the bloody branch in the fire. "Perhaps he prefers his own company. And I would be leaving him when I depart for Mithlond."

For the first time, there was a tremor of hesitation to the thought.

What would you do if you stayed? Fight?

I don't know. Perhaps. She cast a glance sideways at Halthiras and the woods beyond. Just... perhaps there are things worth staying to defend.

---

They would reach the outskirts of Celondim in the morning. The longing and anticipation she should have felt at being so close to sailing away from the world's troubles into peace unending was absent. Aelinril was disquieted, trepidation overwhelming the thoughts of the West. She longed for peace, to heal from suffering and to be free of care. It was in the heart of every Elf, the call of the sea, and she had both seen and endured much to support her departure.

But Harthalín had stayed, to fight. Lord Elrond remained. Halthiras might fight as well. This world was full of beauty and worth, even in the overlooked corners. They had camped near the overgrown ruins of a tower that was yet unbuilt when she fell into slumber, how could she dismiss the value of this world and the people in it?

She was quieter even than usual that night, and as always Halthiras let her be. He sat nearby, propped against Netil's side as he worked at writing or sketching something in the book balanced on his knees, content to share company.

"Lady Aelinril." It was Elladan's voice that pulled her from the war in her thoughts. "When we pass through Celondim on the morrow we will be able to pause but briefly for your departure. Scouts have brought fresh word from Edhelion," he explained, catching the furrow of her brow. "The Dwarven encroachment is more serious than we first thought; there is need for haste the rest of the journey."

"I understand," she said, outward calm and inward turmoil. "Then let me extend thanks now for allowing me to travel with you to this point."

"Certainly." The son of Elrond bowed. "I wish you a swift and untroubled journey to Mithlond and further. You have more than earned the peace of the West."

Her shoulder twinged and it took effort not to rub the healed wound. "Thank you."

Elladan inclined his head once more and took his leave.

"Should we say our farewells now, then?" Halthiras asked, a sigh heavy on the words as he closed the book and looked up at her.

"I..." Brief as it was, their friendship had become dear to her. The thought of its breaking made her chest ache, and she wished to delay the confirmation of words as long as she could. But to depart from one who had given her such aid and comfort without thanks and acknowledgment was unthinkable. "I... I wish I'd met you sooner," she said softly. The fortnight's journey was not nearly enough time.

Halthiras chuckled sadly. "As do I. Properly met, I mean." He moved to sit with her. "I feel we would remain great friends."

"As do I." Aelinril managed around the lump in her throat. She reached for her pack, sitting limply nearby. She didn't have--or need--much of her own, but... Her fingers closed around what she sought easily and she pulled out a cloak clasp, simple and delicately wrought gold around a beryl. She'd had it since departing Vinyamar, would have no need of it in the West, and it felt a pittance to show the value she gave their friendship.

"To remember me," she said as she handed it to him.

"There's no risk of my forgetting." His voice strained on the words and he cradled the clasp gently. He floundered a moment before reaching up to pull one of the adornments from his hair. It slipped free from the narrow braid it bound with little trouble. "I was not expecting to exchange parting gifts, but," he place the narrow band in her palm. "To remember me."

"No risk of me forgetting," Aelinril returned softly, examining the band. There were no jewels decorating it, instead it bore intricately engraved leaves. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

She curled her fingers around it, holding tight as the metal warmed and tears sstug her eyes.

But she did not speak her doubts, her wondering if she truly should depart.

---

Morning dawned all mist, fine drops clinging to their cloaks as they set off. Aelinril appreciated the barrier, shielding her inner unrest from being obvious to the rest of the party. She rolled the gold band in her palm as she thought, inborn pull West at war with not wanting to leave this world while friends remained, and it was in peril from the very Enemy she'd fought before. She was tired, and her shoulder at times ached where the Nazgul stabbed her. But the threat of worse lay over the world.

"It's unfinished business," she could almost hear Harthalín's voice. "We're not done 'til the Shadow can never again cast itself over this world."

She was so lost in thought Halthiras had to touch her arm to draw her from them when they reached Celondim.

"So here we part ways," he said, words melancholy and cloak clasped with her gift. "Farewell and swift journey to you, Aelinril."

She smiled sadly, his gift still tightly in hand. "And a successful one to you. Farewell, Halthiras."

They shared a last look, and he turned to follow the rest of the company, already moving at Elladan's urging. Aelinril watched until Halthiras--and Netil beside him--had been swallowed by the mist before heading down the path to the dock.

The cry of the gulls as she drew neared made her heart sing, but there was an equual joy in the blossoming trees and creatures scurrying among them. It did nothing to settle her struggle.

The ship was delayed, giving her yet more time to think, and that proved to be the undoing of her plans. She thought of Harthalín and Gil-galad and other old friends lost or parted, of new ones, all united in their belief to preserve Middle Earth. How could she do any less, if she was capable?

I'm staying.

Movement caught her eye, and she was greeted by a pair of dark eyes and damped ruff of light brown fur.

"And apparently I'm not the only one to change my mind," she murmured, gesturing the bear over. All her doubts dissipated at her resolution, as the bear, only limping slightly now, approached.