Stranger in the Forest by chrissystriped

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Chapter Five

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Rog breathed deeply the cold night air. He needed a moment for himself before going back into the house. Turukáno had invited his most important lords to introduce him and although they’d treated him with courtesy, he could read in some faces that they wondered what Turukáno was thinking by accepting someone like Rog into his service. The many voices and curious questions had gotten too much for him, he wasn’t used to this kind of company, his people usually noticed if someone needed space.

They’d moved into the settlement a few days ago, setting up their tents and temporary dwellings. They were treated kindly for the most part, the Noldor were more curious than hostile – and it surely helped that Turukáno was holding his hand over them. He should to go back in, the party was in his honour after all and he didn’t want to insult Turukáno.

He halted in surprise when he saw the small figure standing in the dark hallway before the room where the party was going on. Turukáno had introduced him to his daughter Itarille, who had hid shyly behind her father at the occasion, her eyes staring horrified at his face. Rog felt sad that his appearance was so frightening to children. Now she looked at him with big eyes when he slowly moved closer.

“Princess Itarille”, he said and bowed deeply. “Can I do something for you?”

She had tears on her cheeks that shone in the light that fell through the door.

“Is atya inside?”, she asked with trembling voice.

“Yes, do you want to go to him?”

“I don’t know...” Itarille sniffled. “If he is having fun, I don’t want to be in the way."

“Princess”, Rog went to one knee so he was at a level with her, “your father would happily drop everything to be with you. He loves you beyond all measure.”

“It makes him sad that I’m afraid”, Itarille whispered. “And he is already so sad because emya is dead. I’m sad, too.”

Rog nodded seriously. “Of course you are. You both lost someone you loved.”

“I don’t want him to be more sad because of me. But I get so frightened!” She sobbed.

“What are you afraid of?”, Rog asked gently.

“It is foolish”, Itarille whispered. “Atya isn’t leaving, everyone says that, but... I always dream of the cold and the storms and how atya jumps into the water to save emya. Only that he doesn’t surface again in my dreams. And then I wake up and don’t know if it was only a dream or if atya is dead, too. And I have to see him to know that he hasn’t left me, too.”

“It’s not foolish”, Rog answered thinking of his own nightmares. “I sometimes have to see the stars when I wake at night, to know that I’m no longer caught under the earth.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “Do you want to accompany me to the party, my princess?”

She gave him a shy smile and laid her little hand in his.

“But don’t tell atya that I had a nightmare.”

“Of course”, Rog promised, although he was sure that Turukáno would figure that out himself.

Turukáno looked surprised at them when the entered the room, a line of worry formed between his eyebrows.

“Princess Itarille wants to party with us”, Rog said seriously. “May I bring you something to drink, my princess.”

Itarille beamed at him.

“Apple juice, please”, she answered. “Thank you, my lord.”

Turukáno spread his arms and she ran to him to climb on his lap. Rog heard her whisper: “I love you, atya.”

He turned to the table with beverages and poured juice into a wine glass. She thanked him again when he brought it to her with a bow and he sat down beside Turukáno again. Itarille had persuaded Ecthelion to play his flute and the sweet music permeated the air. Rog and Turukáo shared a silent look. Of course the Prince knew why Itarille had shown up here after her bedtime,  but she didn’t seem frightened now and he smiled gratefully at Rog.

 

A few days later, Rog was doing his ‘homework’ – he wanted to learn the Noldor’s writing system and his teacher had given him a few exercises – someone knocked on the tentpole and Itarille came in, followed by Írisse, Turukáno’s sister.

“I’m sorry to bother you”, the older Princess said, “but Itarille insisted on visiting you.”

“Don’t worry, it’s time for a break anyway.”

Rog spread his cramped fingers and cleaned the quill. He looked unhappily at the shaky words on the page. It looked easier than it was. He laid an empty page above it, they didn’t need to see his clumsy efforts and stood up to offer his chair to Írisse, but she was having none of it.

"Please, stay seated", she said and sat down cross-legged on the floor, pulling Itarille into her lap.

“What can I do for you?", Rog said as he sat down again.

Itarille looked a little nervous when she answered: “Atya says you also know dead people.”

She had tears in her eyes but Rog could see that she tried to hold them back. He took her hand in his.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”, he said softly and she nodded, her lip was trembling. “It is okay. You are allowed to cry, you are allowed to grieve.”

Itarille sobbed and threw herself into his arms. Rog held her and caressed her back. He was surprised that she’d turn to him for comfort but he wouldn’t withhold it from her.

“I know”, he murmured. “I know how much it hurts. How hard it sometimes is to start a new day when everything you do reminds you of the beloved dead. It is like a knife in the heart and it hurts every moment. Grieve together.” He looked at Ítarille who had tears running down her cheeks, too. “Talk. About the dead, about your feelings, with Turukáno, too. Believe me, you’ll feel better, if you don’t grieve alone. Don't be afraid to cry, that helps, too.”

“Thank you”, Írisse whispered with husky voice.

“And Itarille?” The girl looked at him with red eyes. “It isn’t a bad thing to feel happy. Your life goes on and the dead would want it so. Grieve, but don’t try to live in the past. You have a future and it is not a betrayal of the dead if you are happy.”

“I’ll try", she sniffed. "But I miss emya so much."

Rog kissed her forehead before he could wonder if he wasn’t taking liberties with that. She had suffered such a loss and he had already seen with Turukáno that the Noldor were badly equipped to deal with death. He’d come here because it meant a save place for his people and the possibility of fighting the Dark One – and also because he liked Turukáno. But the prince wasn’t the only one with grief in his heart and the pain of little Itarille touched him deeply. Maybe they needed him more than he’d thought they would when he accepted Turukáno’s offer.