Prospect

Henneth Annûn, January 3007 T.A.

That winter was wet and bitter. They were cold all the time, and damp. Yet as the days passed, and the season tightened its grip on Ithilien, the Captain only became warmer. He laughed more, and more easily, and always had a word of encouragement ready. Some men were like this, Mablung had observed, as if the onset of darkness caused whatever light they carried within to shine more brightly. Either that or he was fevered.

He found the Captain, hooded and masked, gloved and cloaked, standing by the Window-curtain as the sun went down. He handed him some tea, which he took with thanks, pulling away his mask to drink. His face was red raw. All their faces were red raw.

Beside them, the crystal waterfall danced and shone rainbow bright. "Is this not the most beautiful sight you have ever seen?" the Captain said.

Mablung thought of the hearth and the comforts of home. "Cold beauty."

"There are worse places we could be," said the Captain. "Here there is company. Here we are safe."

Rather a damp cave on the cold front line than all the grand stone halls of the city? Mablung did wonder, sometimes. But the Captain's mood was catching. Yes, he thought, looking out, this country was most fair. Your heart could not help but be lifted. This land was theirs, and lovely.

They stood and watched the sun sink, drinking tea, remembering the long hot summer. "The days are lengthening," said the Captain. "Soon Ithilien will stir, and wake from sleep, and blossom." He smiled at his lieutenant; bright eyes and chapped lips. "Something to look forward to."

"Aye, sir," he said, and sighed, with longing.

The Captain patted his arm. He turned and went back into the refuge, but Mablung lingered a while yet, looking out. From within he heard the young man's voice, and then general laughter. The sun set, and the moon rose, swiftly. The night would be long and cold. He shivered, and went to join the company.

Emyn Arnen, May 3019 T.A.

"Here's the house," he said, coming to a halt.

They were standing amidst ruins: grey stones tumbled on the ground as if giants had used them for sport. Broken columns wreathed in moss and ivy. Here and there an old arch stood over a vanished window. Frescos faded by the heat and cold of a hundred seasons. A prince's palace – but gone, long gone, sunk into the grass, covered with white flowers, like the simbelmynë on the barrows of her kin. The day was warm and still. Éowyn, listening, heard birdsong, and the rustle of life in the undergrowth.

She released his hand. She walked on a little way, under the bright summer sky. Slowly she turned around, completing a full circle, taking in the view. She was profoundly aware of him watching her. When they faced each again, his face bore that sweet sombre smile that so thrilled her. She reached out to him with both hands, and he came and held them, tenderly.

"We could put up a tent," she said.

He laughed unreservedly. "I thought I might supply you with at least one proper room," he replied. "And, besides, I'm ready now to spend more time indoors."

Her heart overflowed. Fiercely, she put her arms around him. She felt his back stiffen; his shoulders go rigid. She had noticed this about him, sometimes, as if her presence alongside him still startled. She rubbed her hand along the small of his back until, suddenly, he softened. "Beloved," he murmured, into her hair. "How I will miss you when you go home."

"Love," she said. "This is home."

He looked around and laughed. "These old stones?"

"No," she said. "Their promise."

They kissed. She, too, marvelled at times at the strange workings of fate that had delivered her here, to him, to this unexpected bliss. This freedom, with another.

They walked hand-in-hand back down the hill. The valley widened, and the road, bending left, brought them round the concealing ridge. Suddenly, Mundburg came into view – his city, tall and proud, battered but unbeaten, that she had helped deliver. The river between ran bright, like silver. She sighed, and felt his hand tighten around hers. Yes, she thought, we are free.

"Here," she told him. "Here is where we'll build."

At the foot of the hill, two Rangers were waiting. They saluted their Captain, and gave their report. The younger of the two could not meet her eye, blushing when she looked his way. As for the older? When he finished speaking, she asked her lord, "Mablung?"

"Aye, that's him," the Captain said.

She reached to take the Ranger's hand. "M'lady?" he said, in puzzlement.

Gently, she placed a kiss upon his weather-beaten cheek. "Thank you," she said, sealing the bond. Their Captain; their Lady; their land.

Altariel, 4th August 2018