Return to the North [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Siblings

After two days of travel, the group was beginning to really miss the open air. Edeva especially was missing the rolling fields and bright stars of Rohan, her home. She pushed her brown hair out of her face and risked a glance at her brother, Elfwine.

She gave a tiny smile as she saw him laughing and talking with his idol, Eldarion. Elfwine had always aspired to be like the much older prince of the Reunited Kingdom, Edeva knew that. Eldarion, the kind soul he was, put up with the young teenager’s idol worship graciously.

Edeva watched her brother's face light up in the fire light whenever Eldarion asked him a question. Elboron, too, was there and he showed as much interest in the boy as his friend. Edeva was so glad these men were traveling with them. It was good for her brother.

“He's a sweet kid,” came a low whisper behind her to the right.

She smiled at Aderthon’s comment, not even turning to him. “I know.”

“He takes after his big sister,” Aderthon added with a smirk.

Edeva chuckled at his comment. “Oh really? And what would you know about that. We rarely talk. You're always up there with Eldarion!”

“Well we’re talking now,” he pointed out slyly, walking backwards to face her. “I just wanted to let you know that your brother is safe with us. We'd never let anything happen to him.”

Edeva’s face fell. She didn't realize how obvious it was that she wasn't entirely confident in the men's abilities to keep her younger brother safe from harm.

“He's still a child,” she murmured. “He doesn't belong on this quest. If anyone is going to get killed, it's going to be him.”

“No,” Aderthon shook his head. “No, Edeva. He will not. I swear on my own life, I will protect your brother. We all will.”

“And who is going to protect you?” Edeva be pushed his chest back with her finger. “You, Aderthon of the House of Fëanoriel, you aren't all powerful, despite what you might think.”

“You speak wiser than your twenty three years would call for,” he chuckled. “No, I'm not all powerful. But I'm thirty five and healthy. I am more likely to be able to protect him than no one.”

They fell into silence. Edeva watched Elfwine trip forward on a loose stone and she gasped quietly. Eldarion and Elboron chuckled as the boy merely smiled and shook his blonde hair out of his face. He pretended it never happened.

“Yrch!” cried Círeth, their rear guard.

Aderthon immediately drew his sword crying, “Orcs!”

Goblins had climbed up from beneath the bridge they were on and lain in wait for them to reach the middle. Aderthon watched as an arrow whistled over his head and struck the first orc in between the eyes.

“Good shot, Fëalas,” he muttered to himself as he plunged his blade deep into a goblin’s chest.

Edeva swung her twin axes left and right. Fëalas, watching from the cart between loosing arrows, was amazed at the speed and skill of the twenty three year old Rohirric warrior. Edeva was fluid and beautiful to watch in battle. It was mesmerizing.

Elfwine, Elboron, Barahir, and Eldarion were cutting their way forward, allowing Bidor to lead the goat and cart onward off the bridge. The battle was swift and decisive; the goblins never stood a chance.

“We heard fighting!” came a call up ahead.

Five dwarves in armor came running towards them and halted when they saw the company. They looked utterly confused. Bidor explained their objective to journey through Moria and that Lord Durin had granted them safe passage.

“Come, come. The goblins will be back if you linger here too long!” The leader of these new dwarves beckoned for them to follow.

Over the past couple days, they'd grown accustomed to these small pockets of dwarves. They were messanger points throughout Moria, designed to assist with communication between the East and West Entrances. Each outpost was heavily fortified and guarded by at least twelve dwarves, and each one had a couple stabled riding goats.

“Thank you, sirs,” Eldarion nodded to them as they were let inside the outpost.

“Welcome to Dolven-view,” Bidor told them. “This is the last outpost before the West Gate.”

“Good,” Edeva muttered.

“Ye not enjoying your stay, lassie?” asked another dwarf, his brown beard braided intricately. “Sorry we aren't up to your standards yet!”

Edeva blushed. “No, master dwarf, it isn't that. I just miss my horse and the open plains. I miss the rolling green hills and starry nights of Rohan.”

The dwarf smiled kindly. “I understand the feeling of missing home, Lady…?”

“Edeva.”

“Lady Edeva,” he nodded. “This our home. We have been away many generations. Yet at last it is ours to reclaim. Thanks to Lord Durin.”

The company chatted awhile with the dwarves about mindless things. It was obvious that the dwarves were glad of the company. But at last it was time for sleep.

Edeva ended up huddling against the wall of the cave, unable to sleep. It was Aderthon who kept her company.

“What has you up?” He asked softly, joining her.

She sighed. “I miss Snowheart. She is my other half. I know she is safe, she is a smart horse, but I miss her dearly.”

Aderthon nodded but said nothing, he merely sat next to her and offered himself as comfort. After she refused to say more, he finally broke his silence.

“My mother had a horse once that was dearly special to her. Daeroch was his name.” He smiled. “She often told stories to us as children of Daeroch.”

“What happened to him?” Edeva asked, looking at the older man beside her.

Aderthon sighed. “He was killed in battle. On the Pelennor Fields, shot out from under her by a Southron.”

“Wonderful,” muttered Edeva.

Aderthon snorted. “You weren't supposed to ask questions about him.”

They looked at each other and both laughed a little. Edeva very much liked Aderthon. He was very kind; he had a big heart. Much like his father, it was often said.

“Come on. Get to bed,” he insisted quietly. “Hopefully we will be out of Moria by tomorrow evening.”

She smiled and lay down. Aderthon told her goodnight before he went to sit beside his sleeping injured sister. Edeva watched him curiously. It seemed as though this was a regular thing for him; it looked practiced. All smiles left his face as he grew troubled by an invisible burden. The fate of his sister had him on edge.

Almost a week and a half had gone by since the attack that had left her injured. Edeva wondered if Aderthon took up a nightly vigil now. She watched him take Fëalas’ hand and decided he definitely did this every night.

Slowly, Edeva drifted off to sleep.