The Darkest Season by Elleth

Chapter 5

Our intrepid heroes go to meet Maedhros, but run into some obstacles on the way.

Asgarvain groaned and cracked her eyes open only to find the gold-embroidered cuffs of Hwestonnen's shirt in front of her face and his hands ready to pull away the blanket she had tucked up to her chin, while Handrin's head was pillowed on the crook of her elbow. He had stolen half the bed at some point during the night, and now he lay sprawled and half on top of her in a way that made movement near-impossible. How anyone could sleep as soundly as he did in that position was utterly beyond her comprehension.

"That was a lovely awakening. Good morning, Commander, Asgarvain muttered. "Since you had the grace to wake me, you could do the same for him, and then be useful in fetching us tea while we get ready," she said, and tried to work her way out beneath Handrin, who slept on, oblivious. Her right shoulder had locked again, so that any effort to push him off was forestalled.

"SOLDIER HANDRIN! ATTENTION!" Hwestonnen had never been averse to raising his voice when necessary drilling the troops, or on the battlefield, but being yelled at and having the warm blanket torn away must have been unexpected for Handrin, when even the morning bell had been unable to wake him. He jumped up, tangled his legs, and disappeared over the edge of the bed with a profound thunk.

Hwestonnen laughed; it was not a particularly pleasant sound. Asgarvain had never liked his streak of malicious glee when it surfaced. "There. Prepare yourselves," he said. "I want clean attire, no weapons. We are not going to leave the wrong impression with Maedhros. Ten minutes. Missing breakfast is your own fault for sleeping in," he said with a look at Handrin, who had struggled to his feet and was about to open his mouth to object, but only managed a meek, "Yes, Commander," and gave Asgarvain a pleading look. She poked him in the ribs, and with a pronounced pout at her, he bowed, stretched, and yawned again, before stealing out of the room to dress for the meeting.

Hwestonnen, too, walked off. Asgarvain assumed that it was to give to give her some privacy, all the more surprised she was when the door to the hall was pushed open and Hwestonnen reappeared just after she had thrown on clothes and was pulling her fine boots from the chest at the foot of her bed. He was carrying three mugs and a pot of tea, and for a moment Asgarvain wondered if her eyes were showing her surprise.

"Are you ready?" Hwestonnen asked, eyeing the dress she wore. The ceremonial garment of red and cream velvet had been liberated from Himring on a wagonload of clothes and supplies once the Fëanorians had gathered their strength again after the Nirnaeth; these days anyone on Ereb would be unable to afford the luxury of clothes like this, as money was scarce and affairs often miserable.

Hwestonnen put the tray down on her bed and poured for himself. Arms crossed, he waited while Asgarvain chewed on a piece of waybread from her rations pack and washed it down with quick sips of tea, careful not to dribble on the rich fabric.

"Did you tell Inuthind?" she asked when the silence threatened to overwhelm. The barracks were nearly empty, and the sounds from outside, snow shovels and drill instructions, were muffled by the walls. Asgarvain dared a larger sip of tea, strong and black, burned her mouth, and hissed.

Hwestonnen raised an eyebrow. "You did not think I would bring you cool tea?" he asked. "And yes, I told her. She is a healer; if I did not know better then I would say that she has the capacity to smell misfortune. Contrary to you, I did not sleep, and finding me both returned ahead of time and awake when she came from her shift told her all she needed to know. And what business did you have with Handrin and snowballs?" He lifted the teapot to begin studying the leaves that had settled at the bottom.

"It was nothing. He needed a demonstration of ranged weapons, and I took what was available."

"Yes, and nearly split my skull open." Handrin said lightly, emerging from the corridor. Asgarvain had to admit that he looked dashing in his livery; green and gold with accents of dark red - her mind was eagerly seizing any distraction to not have to think about the impending meeting; she did not usually entertain such thoughts about him, and snorted at herself. Hwestonnen made no reply, or gave any indication he even had heard Handrin's remark. It seemed he was not averse to avoidance either.

Asgarvain rolled her eyes, swallowed the last mouthful of hard biscuit, and brushed the crumbs off her dress.

"We ought to go," she said, rising. Her voice grew sharper when neither of the two moved. Handrin was stirring his tea with his finger, he had not had any of it yet. "If you men are too craven, then I must go alone. I do not want this any more than you."

Hitching the dress around her calves so it would not drag through the mire outside, she briskly walked out of the barracks, crunched across the trampled snow in the courtyard that had not yet been cleared away, and headed up the stairs to the main house. One of the doorwardens whistled and blocked her way with his spear. She halted to glare.

"Fair lady, what fiend had you sleep with the soldiers?" he asked with a grin. "What can I do to move you to sleep with me?"

There was a reason she much preferred her armour, or at least her ordinary tunic and pants. It spared her remarks like this. "Get your spear out of the way unless you want my hand down your pants crushing your wrinkly little nuts, Mallach. I don't have patience for your quips today." Behind her, she could hear Handrin choking on laughter. So they had followed.

"Tell me if Maedhros is in, and I might leave you alone depending how well the meeting goes."

Mallach only made a sour face, and said nothing. "He is in," the doorwarden from the other side of the door chimed in. She seemed bright and happy. "Go right to him, he should be alone, and I'll be taking care of Nuts here, though that was a little harsh of you," she said, grinning. Asgarvain felt her mind lighten momentarily, and mustered up a smile for the young woman, resolving already to look up her name in the roster once she had time. If she had time, and would not be busy with war preparations come noon.

The door creaked open, and she entered the house with Handrin and Hwestonnen in tow. Unlike Himring, which had been built to use the rare northern sunlight to perfection, the main hall of Ereb was scantly lit. As a product of the Dagor Bragollach, it lacked the large windows, mirrors and lightwells in abundance wherever they proved no tactical weakness. Intended as a foothold against the orcs pouring into Ossiriand, Caranthir and the twins had hastily cobbled the fortress together, and it showed: Even though there had been some smoothing over of rough edges in between the wars, it remained a sturdy but miserable piece of architecture; dark, frequently damp, and often cold.

The door to the stairwell of Maedhros' apartments at the end of the hall stood wide open, but even below they could hear a woman's raised voice. There was only one person who had the audacity to treat the head of the House of Fëanor to such opposition; healer Idhlinn.

"I do not care to listen to your excuses for refusing breakfast, Maitimo. You know you will need to eat if you mean to stomach the tea.Would you like me to list the active components, or are you content to believe that it will lessen the pain unless you retch it up a second time?"

Maedhros' voice was far quieter, if still loud enough to carry clearly. He sounded tired. "I would thank you to stop calling me by that name, Estelindë, as you know. Bring more tea, then consider yourself dismissed."

Not only did Maedhros have company, they had come at a bad time. Asgarvain felt the urge to fetch her sword and vent her frustrations on the dummies in the training yard, and when she considered her companions they looked to be sharing at least the sentiment of getting away. While Handrin had flattened himself against the wall of the narrow staircase upon hearing the noise of Idhlinn's boots appproaching, Hwestonnen's hands had clenched into fists, and Asgarvain could see the grooves where his fingernails pressed into his palm.

He chose, to her surprise, to charge ahead, plowed up the stairs, shouldered past Idhlinn whose glare might have frozen anyone else, and into Maedhros' study. With a jolt, Asgarvain began moving after him - it was unlike Hwestonnen to rush headlong into anything, and there was no saying what he would do now - and ignored whether or not Handrin chose to follow. He would have done best staying out of this entirely, but even bowing out now would be better for him than accompanying them.

The moment she passed the door and pushed in front of Hwestonnen, Asgarvain dropped to one knee and bowed her head. "My lord Maedhros, forgive us the intrusion. We bring tidings about one of the Silmarils," she said, and waited for the explosion.