The Darkest Season by Elleth

Chapter 4

In the late watches of the night, Handrin comes to a decision, and the time to speak to Maedhros draws closer.

Eventually, Asgarvain made her way back to the guard house. She was not keen on anyone learning the particulars of the incident with Handrin, or on questions as to what she and the two men had done in the dovecote earlier that night – for all its truthlessness, ribald banter had become something of a fashion among the guardsmen since they had served with mortals, where, if they could be believed, it held a good deal more truth. Among so many unmarried people (marriage, in the Fëanorian army, had always been the exception rather than the rule, with the possibility of war never far removed), she supposed that it held a certain wishful appeal to some.

Warm, stale air from within hit her in the face when she pushed the door open. There were some muffled complaints about the cold that wafted in with her, but the guards had quieted considerably now that the late watches had begun. Her eyes searched the room and found the figure she had been seeking dozing in a chair by the fire. Involuntarily, she smiled at the way Celeblith's mouth hung a little askew, and the way his eyes twitched underneath the half-closed lids. Not that she would let him see anything but disapproval about his habit once he had sobered.

"Wake up," she said into his ear, blowing at the strand of silvery hair that was tucked behind it, and chuckled when his brow wrinkled. "Celeb, wake up. I need you."

Muttering, he pushed himself upright in the chair, with the unmistakeable slurring that betrayed how drunk he still was. Asgarvain couldn't help rolling her eyes, but helped him to his feet, reaching for his overcoat to bundle him up with one hand, and snatched a wool blanket from his chair with the other.

"We're going outside, Handrin's to the healers," she informed Rhîwen, who was presiding over the roster and ledgers that night.

"Odd night. Him?" Rhîwen asked with a glint in her eye, and tilted her head a little too far, "No fooling around on guard duty."

Asgarvain didn't bother to respond. Like all of Curufin's people, whether those who accompanied him on his travels, or those who remained to stock the forces of the keep, Rhîwen was a little strange, in particular her failing to make humorous remarks seem humorous – but at least she was not asking questions. Taking Celeblith outside would not only help him sober up, it would also serve, while he continued dozing in some corner, to give Asgarvain time alone while upholding the protocol of two guards on each side of the walls at all times, and avoiding a reprimand from her superiors. She made for the door steadying Celeblith, who was breathing brandy smell into her face and leaning heavily on her.

"There you go, sit here. Don't come after me, it's cold." She eased him down inside the covered part of the walkway above the gates where he was out of the worst of the wind, pulled his cloak snug around him and for good measure spread the blanket over him. "I do feel like I am still coddling you, did you know that?" she said. Celeblith only gave an indistinct mumble as answer.

"Yes, of course. Whatever it is you are trying to say. Stay here."

It was good to be alone again, Asgarvain thought as she stepped outside. With the sky clearing after the storm, the wind had picked up again and drove at her like needles, while the stars, pinpricks on the firmament, blinked above her. She sighed. Of course, when standing in Aman after the Darkening, the sky had looked different once the murk of Morgoth had been driven away, but the stars were Elbereth's work no matter where on Arda she herself stood. Tonight they promised one thing: We are watching. It was not a comforting thought, and momentarily she was glad that they would not relay the news to Maedhros until daylight.

"Morbid and melancholy," Asgarvain said. "I should stop that." She began making her rounds, still pondering what to say to Maedhros in the morning, and none the wiser when the hourbell tolled four. It came down to the same; there was no gentle way to tell the truth, and what words precisely she used seemed secondary. She shivered, but from cold rather than fear. Her feet might as well be clumps of ice, but she was not going to complain. Others had had it worse, but she could not deny that the changing of the guard and a few hours of sleep were an appealing prospect. After she had greeted the new sentries and deposited Celeblith in his chair by the fire again, she made her way to the long building snug against the side of the eastern wall; the barracks. No one below a captain's rank had their quarters within the main house, but personally she no longer minded the lack of amenities – she had long since gotten used to the presence of others and the noises they made at night. Most of the time the deep breathing and rustle of blankets tended to calm her, and she hoped the same would be true tonight. Asgarvain beelined for her bed without re-lighting her lantern; she knew the room well enough to avoid banging her shins anywhere.

"Hello," said a voice in the dark. Asgarvain jumped.

"Handrin. You are supposed to be asleep!" She couldn't help the sharp tone that crept into her voice, but it was one of concern rather than anger. "Why did you choose to stay up?"

"Choose?" He chuckled, but with none of the usual mirth. "After Healer Idhlinn went on and on about idiot guards playing with snowballs while she sutured the cut? Not likely. And – I am not very much looking forward to the morning, if you get my meaning."

"Of course."

"Have you found anything to say?"

"No." Asgarvain kicked off her boots and began to undo the straps and buckles that held her chestplate in place. "It is hard to know what to say without knowing what reaction we will find – with something so monumental, it is hard to know anything. I will improvise."

Handrin chuckled again. "This could be funny if it weren't so serious."

"You are trying to cheer me up, aren't you?" Asgarvain shed her chainmail and placed it on its stand, deciding to postpone any cleaning work until after sleep.

"Hm-mh."

"That is a lost --" Asgarvain yawned. "-- cause. Now get off my bed, I want to sleep." She stripped off the protective soft leather shirt and rolled her shoulders, shrugged on her long linen nightshift and let it pool around ankles. About to drop herself on the bed, she found Handrin still there, perched on the pillow hugging his drawn-up legs, and head resting on his knees.

"What is the matter?"

"I thought about it – you're right, if it comes to the worst, I have no place there. I am thinking of leaving service. Pre-emptively, so no one will call me a coward because I don't want to be part of a second ki– ow!" Asgarvain had elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Don't say it. You do not want to give away anything. But – yes. Perhaps that would be the best way. The possibility had not crossed my mind, but it is less unpleasant than the alternative, and more honourable than desertion."

Handrin stayed sullenly silent, rubbing his side, and shifted over to make room for Asgarvain who promptly slipped beneath the quilt and drew it close about her.

"Where else would you go?" he asked eventually.

"After retiring? I was a jeweller in Aman, perhaps I could work with the armourers here. I have done that in the past already. And you? I thought your parents allowed you to join the forces before you had even decided for an apprenticeship?"

He nodded. "But I can read and write, my lords sent me to carry messages before. And I speak some Laegren and Taliska, perhaps they might make me an envoy of sorts?"

"The idea is good, it would suit you – but an envoy to whom? Beor and Hador's houses are spent far enough to be of no more use to us, most Easterlings are traitors, Hithlum was wiped out, King Fingon is dead, and goodness knows where his brother is hiding. Up a tree if Aman was any indication; Turgon loved to climb."

"Nargothrond is fallen as well. That leaves the Laegrim and the coast?" Handrin suggested carefully. "Lords Amrod and Amras are in Southern Ossiriand currently, but if we can ally with Círdan on Balar, we might fare a little better than we do."

"Perhaps. More than that I would like you to be spared what is coming, but the decision is yours. Now at least lie down if you are not going to sleep." Asgarvain closed her eyes and felt Handrin worm under the covers beside her. The bed was narrow, but it would do, and it was warmer than sleeping alone. If this invited more commentary, she was too tired to care much about it. Sleep descended on Asgarvain like a blanket.

It barely felt like a moment's rest until Hwestonnen's voice cut into her uneasy dream of snow, trees and arrows.

"Now look at that, both of you at once. How sweet. Get up, it is nearly past breakfast, and we have Lord Maedhros to meet."