The Harbinger

Title: The Harbinger: Simple Exchanges (3/?)
Author: Caerali (laenemackintosh@yahoo.com)
Cast: Fingon, Turgon, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, OFC/?, several Tolken elves spanning several ages
Rating: PG-13
Archived: Open Scrolls Archive
Warnings: Canon timeline-friendly, A/U other than that.
Beta: dragonfly
Disclaimer: Any non-Tolken elves are characters of my creation. Other then that, I own nothing, nada, zilch. Please don't sue me, I still have 54 payments on my car.


~~~~~~~~~~

(no date)

Dear journal,

I believe I could have gone my entire life content knowing that the most dangerous things in all of Middle-Earth was the Balrog that was under my bed as a child. Whenever I had such a dream, Ada would get the broom where it hung in the hall and attack them under my bed chasing the foul beasts away.

After standing downwind with them charging my King's army, I should have been fearful for my life and my people. . . but all I could think of is how bad the smell was. Lord Glorfindel once told me he could smell an Orc a league away and I thought he was exaggerating. He was not. I could smell their stink when they crested over the horizon, and that was at least twice the distance.

They traveled at first with what I thought were giant balls of mud. When I realized those giant masses where trolls my stomach dropped into my boots. I glanced down at my chainmail and it occurred to me it was not nearly enough protection. I would be surely cleaved in two! The broken tree trunks that hung from their limbs were larger then two of me placed end to end. I could hear the archers' shuddering gasps behind me. I glanced back and saw the fear in their eyes. The elf nearest to me was white as a sheet. I nodded to him, with a tight face. I saw him take a deep breath and I again looked forward. Ahead of us, the banners flickered in the increasing breeze and I glanced to the sky at the moving cloud cover. The ends snapped in the gusting wind and the first drops of rain started to come down.

We finally drove them back, their ranks shattered apart at the seems where our archers downed all their mounted riders. It's nearly daylight now, the Orcish stragglers have dropped back into the shadows. Fingon moved the mass of the troops back into the cover of the rocks and trees, while the first cavalry drove the rest away. I overheard one of the lieutenants say Orcs were unable to travel during daylight hours. I have never been so grateful to see Anor rise in the east. I feel I could write a sonnet in it's honor. Until then, I have only the ray of Isil to light these pages in this journal.

==

(no date)

Dear journal,

We have rotated archers towards the front to protect the infantry. The lines were drawn tightly and we have set up for the second night. We moved into a better position, against a cliff face so they would be unable to attack us from three sides.

I have not seen Fingon yet, but now the whole of his army is one again. He's taken complete command and by some unknown sense he knows exactly where the orcs are and where we should be when they attack. Fingon is wise. I suppose that comes from all those books and papers he kept in his tent.

Glorfindel will be moving about the archers soon. He gets anxious and keeps busy by moving elves around until he's content. Glorfindel's diligence drives Fingon mad, but even he must agree the final placement is always right. Therefore the prince says nothing.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 4

Dear journal,

I assisted Linaewen with the injured today. I shall have nightmares for centuries to come. She is a great healer, but even she is incapable of curing death and dismemberment. The squire who held my banner lost several fingers on one hand. I helped as I was able, mixing poultices and applying bandages. My heart ached for those who had died in our hands well after the battle. Their sticky blood soiled my tunic as I applied pressure to seeping wounds as Linaewen whispered words of healing as best as she was able.

Prince Turgon, Fingon's brother, has also arrived with his army. The combined forces swarmed the deepest parts of the woods and cliff faces to secure the area. With his arrival, yet more dying and maimed soldiers were brought forth. Healers from all the units descended on the encampment, some carrying injured and others carrying bags of healing herbs. We worked well into the night and the next day before we could rest.

I pray to the Valar that adar is well. I was granted permission to leave the tent by lying about where I was headed, in hopes I would be able to find my father. I've ran about the canvas tents looking for him, but I could not find him anywhere. I pray he is out scouting and far from this war. I feel ill when I think he may have fallen in battle. It was not long before Glorfindel found me though. I was forced to lie to him as well, telling him I was looking for a jar of aloe from a friend's tent. He took me at my word, but sent me back to Linaewen and the healing tent with the promise he would have aloe sent to me there.

Linaewen noticed me immediately as I returned and put me to work.

'Check him, Quesse, see to his bandage. It's starting to seep,' Linaewen asked of me.

I nodded, turning back to the scout who lay on a partially unrolled mat. He was partially sitting up, using a overturned barrel as support for his weary back.

'Are you in much pain?' I ask.

'Some, my lady,' he strained. I could not suppress my ill placed laugh.

'I am no lady. You may call me Quesse. I am here to change your dressing. The healer Linaewen will be with you shortly.'

I unraveled his clothed arm and gasped at the deep gash underneath. I surmised the wound would not clot on it's own.

'Linaewen? Where are you? I need help,' I pleaded. She was not next to the archer where I had seen her last. Instead, I called for the attention of an officer from the other army as he entered the tent not far from me. He surveyed the fallen and his eyes fell on the ellon I was attending.

'You there,' I addressed him, 'will you assist me?'

He turned his dark head towards me and his eyes spoke of sadness.

'Please, I need to retrieve something to slow the bleed or he will loose too much.' He knelt beside me and reached his hand to mine where it covered the wound.

'What do you need?'

'My friend's herb bag. Please apply pressure in this spot. I shall be right back.' He did as I bid him. I scurried up and away quickly, returning with a glass jar with a metal lid. I cut a long length of clean cloth and readied it by tossing it over my shoulder while I used my finger to swirl the contents of the jar to a thick paste. I had the officer lift his hand and immediately the blood oozed forth. I lavished a large glob of the gooey substance over the blood and blew on it gently. From experience, I knew the substance would dry quickly helping to prevent more loss. I took a better look at the dark elf assisting me and realized now he was likely an officer of some importance. The tunic he wore, though ruined, was finely tailored. The stitching was even across the seams, with a certain amount of detail and effort put into it.

'Thank you. I can get it from here.'

He nodded, but assisted me anyway. He grasped the length of cloth and pulled it cleanly away from my shoulder and wound the wound with notable skill.

'He shall fare well under your care, healer.'

'I'm not a true healer, other then practical knowledge. My friend has taught me. I'm a harbinger.'

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he quickly visually apraised me. When I frowned at the candid look he gave me he chuckled.

'Under Fingon, eh?'

'Yes, but how did you --'

'I know my brother's taste,' Turgon stood then, and walked away without a second glance.

I'm glad he did not hear my unflattering stutter. I brandished a wooden cup of water for the now bandaged soldier and went to the next bed roll. I ask him if he's knows my father and he said he does. After dozens of questions I find that he has not seen him in nearly a week. Adar was out on errand when the whole of the battle took place. He smiles weakly as I hug him so tightly I likely bruised him in relief.

Hours later, it finally occurred to me the full weight of my conversation with Prince Turgon. I went to my tent and glanced at myself in the hand held looking mirror. Oh Eru, I looked horrible!

Thick mud caked my one cheek and blood splatter covered nearly everything else. I know the torrential rainfall threw mud about as the horses splashed about.

I am trying to put it out of my mind by taking this moment to get a quick dunk in the stream. The few other elleth in this camp will be there, cleaning their clothes and linens that has been soiled in healing tents. I haven't changed in three days and my shirt is stuck to me. Truly disgusting.

Yours in honor,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 5

Dear Journal,

Glorfindel lead us back into battle and we hunted down the last of the orcish armies of Morgoth. Yesterday, I heard both the elvish Lord, Maedhros, came to our aid, along with Prince Turgon's forces. Morgoth's army did not stand a chance. Alcarin returned unharmed to my great relief. Sidh would be terribly upset if we lost our favorite stable master. Sidh was unnerved at the sounds of carnage in the distance. Not from fear, but if for any other reason, he wanted to charge down there and assist his Prince. Sidh would spend most of the battle trotting in place, ready to charge if I was to only give the word.

I had not seen Fingon but for fleeting moments in the encampment after the battle. I was grateful he had not been injured in battle. Linaewen assured me he was well, but extremely busy with debriefing his officers on the battle.

I shuddered, remembering how the orcish forces broke on the front
lines like our river at my childhood home, when the spring floods would push and spray over the edges of its bed. It occurred to me then, that I had not once been afraid. It had been exciting. I did not even realize until we had won, that my arms and seat hurt from being on in the saddle for nearly nine days straight. I had been too enthralled to notice much else.

I managed to find time again for yet another dunk in the stream nearby. I was thinking of all of this when I walked up the slope out of the river and nearly to my clothing when he appeared from behind a tree. Fingon stopped suddenly and watched me intently. I was self-conscious under his close scrutiny and embarrassed at the horrible timing of the moment. I scurried to where I had stashed my clean clothes and dressed as quickly as I was able. He waited to approach me until after I was finished. I apologized, telling him it was my fault, I usually have Linaewen close by to keep an eye out. I cleared my throat waiting for some sort of response. When he said nothing, I took initiative.

'Sire, how are you this fine morning?'

He said nothing for a moment, before speaking. Maybe he was offended to have seen me undressed. Was my body really that offensive? I admit I haven't much shape. More than once Glorfindel would call me 'bean pole' or something equally rude. It must be my hair, it's still rather short. I decided to keep it short, for it was being pulled a lot by the links in my chain mail. After the battle, Linaewen joked she could put a berry basket on my head and use the upside down shape to trim all the long ends off every few weeks. I thought it a wonderful idea and we both laughed thoroughly.

When I realized he was staring at me, I paled, aware he was waiting for some sort of response. Oh, Valar, he had asked me a question and I didn't even notice.

'Sire?'

'I asked if the weather has been bearable.'

'It has been, sire. The first few days were rough, but I've come a long way.'

'I must agree. I've decided to leave you with the third cavalry. They believe you bring good luck. The third cavalry was the only unit not to lose a single party member.'

'I am happy anytime my people come home safely. I met your brother yesterday in the healing tent,' I blurted out to break the silence.

'So he told me. Learned much from Linaewen, haven't you?'

'Yes, Linaewen, Glorfindel, even Ecthelion.'

He snorted at the herald's name, and I smiled. We fell into silence again for a long moment and I yearned for something proper to say. I was not good at words or timing. He walked around me and surveyed the stream where I had been bathing. It was uncharacteristic of him to be as quiet from my stay with him at our training camp. The battle must have worn on his soul, I concluded. He tapped at a river stone near his toe before continuing. 'Herald, I wish you to work in controlling your horse. The next time we see battle, I want him standing still. He draws too much attention to you squirming in his spot. I fear for your safety.'

I admitted I had not thought of that and that I promised I would work on it immediately. I nodded and curtseyed, an awkward thing to do in leggings and a damp shirt sticking to me.

'I require your talents,' he spoke quietly, as I gathered up my lye soap and he handed me my wash towel that I had discarded on a large boulder.

'I am yours to command, my Prince.'

He held a scroll out and I took it and inspected it. His seal was quite similar to the King's. I can remember it clearly, even all those months later.

'My last scout did not survive this last battle. This must be delivered to Doriath, to the Sindar lord, Thingol. '

'King Thingol?'

'King Fingolfin is your king,' Fingon hissed dangerously, 'there is
no other king. Deliver this to LORD Thingol. Or just Thingol. I care not how you address him. . . though he may.'

My hand shook at his sudden burst of temper as he pressed the second scroll in my hand. His voice fell into an even cadence again, 'and this goes to the wife of a Noldor soldier. She resides in Thingol's court. Unlike the other elves there, this noble has dark hair, like mine.'

'The name?'

'Is unimportant to you. I'm certain you can recognize a Noldor among Sindar.' It was obvious to me he did not care to share any further information, so I did not press him any farther.

'I will leave immediately. Sidh is swift, we will be there in three days.' I grasped the last scroll, but he did not release it. Instead, he pulled me closer to him, and his breath as he spoke unsettled my short hair about my cheek.

'You will need to be more swift than that, we leave in five. Quesse. . . I'm trusting you with something you cannot fathom it's importance. Do not open these messages. Do not allow them into the hands of anyone other than the intended owners. Do not stop for any reason. If you are captured . . .we will not come for you. I -- I will not come for you.'

'Yes, my Prince, I understand.'

'You may try to give him this larger of the two scrolls, but I doubt he will give you a second glance. Save your efforts, and just give them both to her and she will return them back. Do this for our people.'

'I do this because you ask it of me,' I whispered.

It was then he leaned down to me and I felt Fingon's caressing fingers as he moved the wet tendrils of my hair from my forehead. The gentleness of his fingers mapped out the features of my cheek to my chin and upwards again to the tip of my ear. I could not read his masked expression. He withdrew quickly and glanced about to make sure no one had seen us.

Afterward, he left the edge of the water and I stood for a long moment. My cheek felt funny were his warm, smooth touch had brushed it.

I dressed in my chainmail and packed everything else in a wagon to travel. I was careful not to bring anything that would identify me as Noldor. Unfortunately, there would be no way to hide my ancestry as my ears poked though the sides my short hair. I've also decided it best to leave this journal at base camp locked up in my box on the wagon and write upon my return. Until then.

Long live the true King,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 10

Dear Journal,

I met with Fingon one last time before my departure and he showed me the way on one of his detailed maps of Beleriand. He insisted that I would not get lost, but I had my doubts. I should not have. I thought about how the odd sound of urgency in Fingon's voice made goose bumps rise from my arms and I shuddered as if cold. I left as soon as he excused me from his tent.

When I turned towards Doriath and gave Sidh free rein, the stallion kicked out playfully before galloping across the open terrain. He knew the way, as if by instinct. I had him follow the Sirion River as I was shown by Fingon. On the second day I was well into the oak wood forests before I found any notable signs of life.

I was several leagues out when I met with the first bit of resistance. The mounted sentries rode descendants of Mearas, the noblest of horses in all of Arda. Their eyes immediately fell on my stallion, who snorted and lathered foam from his mouth as he ground his jaw impatiently against his bit. They searched my packs and saw that I was relatively unarmed except for a hunting knife and my bow with a quiver of arrows. They questioned my story several times over, glancing from me to my horse several times. It's obvious to me now they recognized him. Maybe Fingon rode him here once?

They finally relented and took me to their sentry captain. Again, I relayed my story, I was a messenger sent to Thingol's kingdom from Fingon. He, too, glanced at Sidh. Shockingly, he took my story at face value and personally guided me onward.

The great city was enchanted in a way I cannot explain. I had not seen or felt such feeling before, other than I knew it was present. The marble and stone was cut with sharp precision built into impenetrable walls with armed sentries above. They watched us with a cautious eye as I was led through the marketplace and past the lower terraces where common elves made their homes.

I was tired from my journey, and I felt a slight hesitation as we passed by open windows that held pies and loafs of bread left out on sills for cooling. At the smell of fresh rye, I foamed at the mouth almost as much as Sidh had. My silly horse gladly tried to wrestle me for it. If I had not pulled his head sharply away in time some family would be without their breakfast.

Thingol, Lord of the Sindar, regarded me closely for the entire fifteen minutes I was in his presence. I know not what I expected, only that he glowed with a radiance I have witnessed only a few times in my lifetime. It's something about the air around him. . . as if the air itself held is breath and shuddered as he moved. He rose from his throne with the grace and elegance bestowed only to those of nobility. I could only try my best not to be the sweaty, mismatched, chainmail wearing herald standing on his pristine white tiled floors. I looked about me and noticed I had literally left dirt and grime tracks from the entryway to the exact spot I was standing. One of his nobles stepped forward to greet me, but Thingol waved him back with cool grace.

'You have traveled far, young herald. On behalf of the Sindar, let me please welcome you to our kingdom properly. Take recreation here, and dine with us until your soul and steed are fully rested,' Thingol made a sweeping motion towards the balcony, where I could clearly see the fast rooftops of the homes, shops, and theaters of the grand city.

He turned towards the ellon he had waved back and handed him the scroll I had just given him.

'Prince Fingon wished --'

'I will consider your liege's request,' Thingol said quietly, after reading though the scroll quickly, 'Only consider. You may tell him that.' He then handed the scroll back to me.

I shifted in my boots, not knowing what else to say. Fingon wanted an exacting response. My face must have betrayed me, for he smiled and added, 'I will consider it soon. Just not at this moment. Here! Sit! You must be exhausted.'

'I am but a simple messenger, sent here for deliveries. I have no need for luxuries.'

'Messages? You have another? Hand it here then, waste no time and hand it to me.'

'Tis for a Noldor noble, in your court.'

'There are no Noldor in my court. . . not anymore. . . and you can tell him I said so,' Thingol chuckled, 'Fingon must have taken a blow to the head recently.'

It was that point that I became offended. 'My Prince is brave and true, please do not speak ill of him in my company.'

A low murmur rose among the partisans, but Thingol continued to smile.
'Fingon sends me an obstinate elfling,' he chuckled to the members of his court, who in turn, laughed as well. 'I have withdrawn my offer. You may leave my kingdom immediately. You may tell him I said, "May Doriath burn to the ground before I would consider it." Safe travels, elleth.'

His sudden change of demeanor left me stunned. I could do little else but exit like a meek lamb as the guards came forth and guided me with no uncertain terms to the doorway. I walked to the expansive staircase and sat down about two-thirds of the way down. Exhausted, I sat for most of the morning trying to figure out what to do with the second scroll.

'You are Noldor?' A voice came from behind me. I turned my head and was blinded by the sun as I looked into her face. A crown of soft brown hair fell about her shoulders and she knelt down and extended her hand to help me rise to my feet. 'He sent you, did he not?' She continued to ask, and I did not know if I should speak the truth. It was likely this was the elleth Fingon wished for me to find, but maybe it was not. 'Did the son of Fingolfin send you or not?'

'Yes, he did.'

She laughed lightly. 'At last! Ecthelion spoke highly of you to me, just a week ago. He received word you had arrived.'

I felt a surge of satisfaction that Ecthelion remembered me. Her eyes twinkled, she was obviously satisfied by my unspoken response.

'Fingon sent me to find the wife a a Noldor noble who resided in this court. Thingol said there was none,' I told her, standing from the steps and straightening my armor.

'Thingol, he has quite a sense of humor doesn't he?' I must have looked confused because she laughed then. I withdrew the crushed scroll for the elleth and handed it to her. She snapped open the seal and read it thoroughly. She lent no explanation, but thanked me for traveling so far for such a simple thing. I nodded mutely and gave my good-byes.

'Wait!' She gathered sections of her dress and followed after me.

'Yes, my lady?'

'Tell him I expect correspondence on a regular basis from now on. He may send you. Was there another letter? I suspect there was.'

'I shall tell him so. Yes, there was, but Lord Thingol dismissed it,' I held out the now wrinkled page I retrieved from under my tunic. She read over it and gave me a hesitant look.

'Tell him I will convince my King to sign and lend aid.'

'He seemed to be steadfast in his decision,' I ventured that Fingon's letter to this elleth mirrored the same words as in the letter to Thingol.

'My dearest Lord Thingol will change his mind, give it time. Tell Fingon to write me again, and soon.' She disappeared from my view and I knew not what else to do or say from that point on. I gathered my horse from the stable and set back for our encampment two days from here.

My return trip took nearly two days of riding. I returned to the Noldor battle encampment with a confused heart. I stood before Fingon's desk, empty-handed and exhausted. I wobbled uncontrollably in my worn-though boots on the edge of sleep deprivation. Around us, the moon hung low in the night sky, and I could hear the forest sleeping around us. Scouts moved about the trees ensuring our safety while the others rested. Most of the encampment would be brought down around us at dawn. His main tent would remain until nearly last, for everyone knew their Prince stayed up long hours at night and slept mostly in the morning.

'Then she said she would speak to him and convince him otherwise. She kept both pages of correspondence,' I told him, recanting my entire adventure.

Fingon nodded absently, as he sat on the edge of his desk trying rather unsuccessfully to remove a knot from his left boot. He wobbled as he leaned back and hooked his ankle over his knee. He was hardly listening, but did respond 'no' when I asked if he needed assistance. With a disgruntled sigh, he reached for his belt, and withdrew a short bladed knife and eyed the knotted lace for a final moment.

'Sire, please, allow me to assist you,' staying his hand with my own. He glanced up at me and nodded after a moment. His dark brown eyes twinkled with amusement as I picked carefully at the water tightened knot. He held perfectly still, but the entwined cord refused to budge. He chuckled when I finally demanded his knife. He surrendered it and I took my turn picking at the loop. Fingon declared victory when the stubborn cord became loose and he was able to free his foot. He flung the boot halfway across the room, before kicking loose the other.

He reached for my palm, and turned it upwards, placing a chaste kiss to it's heel. He pulled me so close with the movement my tattered tunic brushed against his bare chest. 'This is mine,' he whispered.
A most unintelligible, 'nugh,' sound escaped my lips, before I asked, 'truly?'

'Aye. . .' as removed the knife from my free hand. When I realized it was only the knife he wanted, I surrendered it quickly. He turned away from me then and gathered a thin garment from the back of his chair.

'Good evening to you, Quesse.'

'Thank you, my Prince.'

I darted out of the tent and ran full speed back to my own. I pulled the flap door down and collapsed into my cot when I was secure in knowing I was alone. I felt hot, cold, and everything in between all at once. It was as if I was beginning to fade all at once again. A small smile I could not disguise on my face convinced me I was not.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 21

Glorfindel is finally content in my progress. I can now mount and dismount at full speed while carrying a full sized banner. I've memorized formations of troops, signal calls between battalions and beginning swordplay. I still have some work to do, but I fear it no more. He's passed me off to yet another commander to teach me this, because he's working with a new flag-bearer. He tells me he's content in my training and there is little more he can teach. Time in battle will make me stronger.

I glance to the circular arena and take note of the new flag-bearer. She is young, but not as young as I am. She is a bit skittish, and during the course of my conversation with Glorfindel, she has nearly dropped her small pole with a tunic tied to the end twice.

I felt a surge of unwarranted jealousy. He grasped my hand and leaned in close.

'I see the distrust in your eyes. Quesse, you have a gentle nature and were meant for greater things. You will thank me when the time comes.' He whispered all this in my ear as he gave a sharp nod in the direction of his new apprentice.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 28

Again, Fingon has sent me to visit with the elleth in Thingol's court. This time I did not get as far. The guard stopped me just before I could see the city. They held me there and fetched the elleth. I sat on the back of my great stallion for several hours outside the gate under the blistering sun.

Just as I had given up hope, I saw a lone rider in the distance. When she rounded the bend of the river, I saw it was not the same elleth I had met on the steps in the capitol. This elleth sat side seat in a lady's saddle, something I had not seen since the land commissioner's wife. I suppose all ladies of formal upbringing do such things. Her silver gown flowed off the cream colored horse's back as she brought it to a halt beside me.

I suppose my open mouthed stare was something she was accustomed to, or just too polite to comment on. She was gifted with beauty I had never seen in my young existence. If I had been on the ground, I would have felt obligated to curtesy.

'You have returned!' she smiled breathlessly, 'I am Lúthien. I come on the lady's behalf. You see, my father, Thingol, will not allow you passage to our city. Whatever did you say to him?' she chuckled, 'Nay! Do not say! Fear not, young one. He will not dismiss you for long. Your deeds on the fields of battle precede you. He cannot deny you for long, he values courage and beauty above all else.'

'As I was ordered, I return with Fingon's message. The letter for the lady.' She took it from me then, and tucked it into the inner portion of her cloak and removed a letter from the same spot for me.
'This is for his eyes only. You will not read it. Make haste,' she demanded, turning away from me.

I asked her if there was anything else, but she did not hear me. I went to follow her, but the guard stopped me.

'You must leave now.'

'But --' I stammered.

'Our King has forbidden you from entering the city,' the guard spoke, 'All correspondence now will be sent though King Thingol's daughter. He does not know of this exchange and you will not speak of it.'

I did not understand immediately, but I had much time to think about it on my ride back to our encampment.

When I arrived, I did not take refuge as I wanted to. I rode Sidh directly to the center of the camp, where I knew his tent would be. I marched directly in the tent, past his hunting dogs to where he sat alone at his grand table.

'I've been banished from his kingdom,' I declared unceremoniously as I pushed though the canvas openings of his main tent.

He glanced up with a mixed look of frustration and ire, as I had apparently interrupted his train of thought.

'I knew it was inevitable. I hoped he would have liked you enough to exchange passage for a short while.'

'Exchange,' I cocked my head sideways questioningly, allowing my chain mail coif to slide a back off my head.

He stood suddenly as if annoyed by his ill spoken words. He bound past me and drew the door flaps closed from outsiders.

'Did she give you anything in return?'

'Explain 'exchange' to me, for I am a simple elleth and require simple explanations.'

'Don't play the dunce, it does not suit you.'

'I have been informed by the Lady Lúthien that all correspondence is to pass to her from now on.'

'I intend for you keep him company and in 'exchange' he would allow me to keep in contact with her. I intend to barter for usage of his armies.'

I choked on the bile that rose quickly in the back of my throat.

'She's not really a wife of a Noldor noble.'

'You figured that out all on your own, didn't you?' He sneered. Fingon was out of his chair and came at me eating ground in angry strides.

'You told me she was the wife of a Noldor officer. What officer? You fancy another ellon's wife, don't you?' I know not what drove me to insolence other than heat exhaustion and lack of sleep.

He spun me around with such force I could feel his fingers bite though the upper part of my arms.

'As I said. . . you are not as stupid as you would wish me to think. What did Lúthien say?'

'They stopped me far from the city, Fingon. They would not let me enter. Lady Lúthien met me outside in the forest, but only after nearly half the day had passed and I had time to bake in the sun.' I tried not to squirm as he held me close, reading my face as I continued to speak. 'She bid me to return a letter to you. It's in my tunic. Please, Fingon, your hurting me.'

His elegantly sculpted eyebrow rose slowly at the casual way I said his name, but he said nothing on the matter. His tight fingers slowly relented on my arms and he searched my face with a flicker of his eyes. He snaked his hand under my chainmail and cloth tunic to remove the squashed scroll before stepping back.

He stepped away, and unrolled it and scanned the page quickly. He glanced back to me.

'Did you read the contents of this?' His eyes were unreadable, hooded and dark.

'No, I did not.'

'Take Sidh to the stable. Bathe and change, but return here. You dine with me tonight. I will share a story with you.'

Long live the king,

Quesse