The Darkest Season by Elleth

Chapter 3

With the discussion concluded, Asgarvain and Handrin reflect on past and future.

Asgarvain and Handrin's boots had plowed a track around the walls doing their rounds in tense silence, but the courtyard lay white and undisturbed, few people would venture outside of their own volition now. The storm had been short and brutal, and left a calf-high blanket of hail and wet snow that would, judging from the crashes outside the walls, cost them a fair number of trees collapsing under the weight of their load.

"Have you - " Handrin began. He was walking a step behind Asgarvain and she could feel his breath warm and moist on the back of her neck. It was not a pleasant sensation. Her irritation surged.

"No, I have not! I am trying to think of something to say! What would you want me to say? 'Good morning Lord Maedhros, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast because I come bearing a message that will spoil your appetite for the remaining year and quite likely ruin the winter solstice celebrations?' If you have a better idea, I would love to hear it because I am at the end of my wisdom!" She took a deep breath. "And while you are at it, get off my skin and stop breathing down my neck, and I mean that literally!" She whirled around, ready to continue her tirade.

But Handrin had the grace to look abashed, and took a step backward. Almost immediately, Asgarvain felt sorry for snapping at him, and lowered her voice. "I am sorry, Rin. You are lucky, you never had to decide between your life and that of another elf you forced to take up arms against you. It is not a choice I would wish on you or anyone, but that is precisely what will come of it."

"I don't think I could," Handrin said. He kicked a clump of snow over the wall. It landed with a dull thud on the other side below.

"I did not think I could, until I stood in Alqualondë without my sword. The first Teler I killed went overboard and took it down with him. But at that point there were enough dead from either side that there was no shortage of weapons available. See." The sword Asgarvain pulled from her sheath was a beautiful thing with a gentle curve to the blade. Blue leather wrapped the hilt, and the pommel and crossguard were etched with the stylised swirls of cloud. Artful tengwar curled along the blade.

"Tamintur made me, Ohtapairë, for Fánandil his son," Handrin read quietly. "Did you know him?"

Asgarvain shook her head. "Not personally, only his name. Fánandil was one of the lords that followed the king to Formenos, I stayed in Tirion and continued my business. He just happened to be the first corpse I stumbled over, and I had no time to be discerning. I killed three others, two men and a girl of fifty who meant to revenge the boy she had just married at the feast before the Darkening. The least I can do is to cleanse the sword by slicing open as many orcs as I can – but in some cases that would mean for me to turn the blade against ourselves."

Handrin's hand came to lie heavily on her shoulder; his fingers were digging into her flesh. "So let us prevent this, for you at least," she said. "If the story alone is turning you so sheet-white, I want neither hide nor hair of you on the battlefield, child." Asgarvain continued. "Because there will be battle, and you know it."

"If there is – if – then I am refusing to let you go alone. I never heard you sound so broken in all the time we've known each other."

Having her weakness adressed so openly sent a jolt through Asgarvain. "Protective of me, are you? But being well-meaning will get you no further than the girl at Alqualondë. Show me what you are made of. What are the chief Doriathrim weapons?"

"Thingol used the sword, if the stories are to be believed. Beleg used, bow, sword and spear, Mablung axe and spear. It makes no matter. They used all of them."

"Arrows. Think, Handrin – they live in a forest, which offers a great deal of cover and vantage points to shoot us down from every tree. If we ever make it to Menegroth, I would wager we will meet with their axes and swords afterwards."

Asgarvain bowed down to scoop up a handful of snow that she pressed into a hard ball. Water ran into her gauntlets, and she grimaced, but she scooped up more until a sizeable pile of snowballs lay beside her. Handrin gave her curious looks and sucked on his lower lip.

"Arrows," Asgarvain said, and motioned for him to stand back. "You did not think I would shoot arrows at you, would you? These will do. Move."

Handrin, still looking doubtful, followed her directions and moved away from her. "Back. Back. Further. Stop, that is the right range." She took up a snowball and flexed her arm, took aim, and hoped her muscles would cooperate. "Come at me!"

Handrin began to jog toward her. His breath misted and billowed around his face. She saw the opportunity and threw. A dull clang resounded; she had hit his chestplate. Handrin swerved to the right, and she followed with her aim. Clang. He ducked, and the next snowball went over his head, the one after burst over his ear as he struggled back to his feet.

"Enough! Enough, the battle's over for you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you never encountered ranged weapons before. Down, dead three times over!"

Handrin arrived in front of her, panting and pressing a hand to his head. There was blood seeping between his fingers, and his eyes were wide. Asgarvain swallowed hard. This she had neither expected nor intended, and it took a moment to find the words to say.

"Let me see that." All the same, her voice was an octave higher than she'd usually allow it. She prised his hand away and brushed the sticky hair aside, breathing easier when she found it was nothing serious.

"Only a laceration, I think. Still, head to the healers, head wounds will bleed you stupid," she said. "I'll get someone to cover for you."

Handrin, still quiet, nodded. "I will find you in the morning," he said, and began walking toward the keep, leaving a trail of churned-up snow in his wake. Asgarvain remained behind and stared at her fingers, slick with Handrin's blood. She knelt to wipe them off on the snow, then shoved more snow over the pink stains, and hoped it would be the first and last she had to see of that for a long time.