Solitude. Some mistook it for loneliness, but Laikendir preferred as much of it as he could get. At times duty required he tolerate the presence of those who shared his cause, and for the most part it was just that: tolerance. Precious few were the people he would choose to spend his time on, if he had such a choice. Thiliel couldn't accept these simple truths, and perhaps there was a time she would've been right. For the sake of old friendships, and for the sake of their common charge, he tolerated her constant introductions to various travelers and newcomers like this Madam Dinmir. Despite any pretense to the contrary, he knew why she arranged them, and she knew he knew. It'd been a long time since he needed anyone's company. It'd been even longer since he wanted it. He was alone, and he was content. Both fortunately and unfortunately, untempered persistence was a gift Thiliel's teacher gave her in abundance.
Not that Thiliel alone made that mistake. Gelurien had insisted his house was too large, too empty, too cold and dark. That he needed family nearby. She didn't understand the situation, but then how could she? How could she know all the duties and labors that could upend his life for months at a time? Annoyed with his cousin's constant hounding, Laikendir had made the fool mistake of telling her to move in if she was so concerned for his well-being, and she'd made the fool mistake of accepting. It would be a lie to say life hadn't been more pleasant since, but at a cost Laikendir would've never let her pay had he known beforehand. Gelurien was too proud to admit trudging the bounds of the estate was far lonelier for her than it had ever been for him. Nor would she admit how it wore on her. She didn't take long to find reasons to be away from the house once there was no longer an excuse for seclusion. New clothes, new flowers, new livery for the horses, new decorations. Her new companion —her guard, as she put it— must certainly offer greater amity than Laikendir. Perhaps someday soon she would forgo the justifications and admit she just wished to ride about in his company... or perhaps that was wishful thinking.
Through an upstairs window, Laikendir watched his cousin ride away with Sir Farothel. The young knight couldn't have come into their lives at a better time. Twice a week he drew Gelurien away from the mundanity of the estate and out into the bright world. Laikendir's feigned pretentiousness had likely complicated matters more than necessary, but separate objectives demanded conflicting conditions be met. If Thiliel wasted less time trying to pair him up, he wouldn't have to put on such a facade. Perhaps with Madam Dinmir as the latest to express no interest in him, Thiliel would at last admit defeat. More wishful thinking.
Enough daydreaming. Correspondence from various contacts lay strewn all over the desk, and it wouldn't do for Laikendir to leave such papers sitting in the open while away. Two lists he made as he sorted through them: one of the various obligations he'd met, and those he'd yet to fulfill. Meeting Thiliel's new friend: that was one obligation met. Had Madam Dinmir considered him too charming, or not charming enough? It was difficult to gauge while he prodded Sir Auros to ensure his disfavor and thus increase the chances of Madam Dinmir's. Either way, it'd served his purpose like it always did, and at last he could give his attention to more... important...
Underneath a stack of papers, Laikendir spotted a small box. More than a box, given a most undignified burial amongst the clutter. Had he really forgotten it? Inch by inch at first he reached out, as if sudden movement would scare it off, then as his hand hovered above he snatched it from the pile. How did he come to abandon it so? He'd taken such great care. Were they still there? Yes. Yes they were. Two silver rings cushioned on a small pillow. Eyes fixed on the bands united like their wearers never would be, Laikendir wasn't sure which baffled him more: that he'd forgotten them, or that he was sure he could watch those rings melt. The smithy wasn't far from his first errand of the day. He could stop there along the way. It should've been done the moment she'd given her ring back, but that task was too much for him at the time. He'd been too sentimental. Too hopeful. Melt? He would relish watching the silver evaporate, if the smiths would be so kind as to make the forge hot enough.
And why not? The maiden he'd given that ring to was long gone. A year and a day. He'd saved her, and that was it. She hadn't seen it wasn't some mere gambit to end Taurant's scheming. Either she'd missed it, or rejected it, or she refused to see it through the plots, ploys and schemes they'd worked together over so many years to quash. The keen mind that had won his heart was the same mind that made it so easy for her to return the ring once Taurant's ambition was thwarted. That maiden was gone. She'd lost herself in the fight, and after waiting so long, after safeguarding those rings, Laikendir knew he would never see her again.
He deserved freedom. He deserved to put it behind him. Too much time had been squandered in false hope. She hadn't seen it then. She'd never see it. It was time he came to his senses and released himself from torment.
Laikendir took one last look at the rings, snapped the box shut, and stuffed it into his breast pocket. If he could hold onto the heat of this moment for a little while longer, he would be free.
"It's not fair to Auros, you know. He'd expected to at least cross paths during the celebrations. You were in my shop a couple of times a week until right before the enderi, and now you're hardly even in your shop."
"I know, and I wish I hadn't missed it, but my duties must come before my own interests." Thiliel plucked at a leaf fallen from one of her pots. "There's too much at stake. I promise you'll understand soon."
"It's not about what I understand. I trust you'll keep that in mind."
Once the door closed behind Dinmir, Thiliel let out a weary sigh. Something so simple as a light lunch and reading had come to naught, and still it felt very much like a broken promise. All that time wanting to be noticed, and once Auros did, she all but vanished. There couldn't be anything when there was no one to have anything with. What could she do though? Everything was crumbling. It was her duty to hold it together, and though she knew better, sometimes Thiliel felt alone in the task.
More shuffling at the door: Laikendir hastened through, the one person who still reassured her their charge wasn't hopeless. The counter creaked under his weight as he leaned close enough to whisper. "We need to talk."
"Everything is wrong. It isn't how it should be." Thiliel slammed her hands down. "You see it too, don't you?"
Laikendir eased off the counter and stepped back, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes. The wagoners, the candlemakers, and the lumbermill in a matter of months. Problems with supplies and deliveries, contracts cancelled seemingly at random, shipments lost in transit."
"And Taurant just so happens to come to the rescue. I don't know how, but he's behind it. He has to be." Thiliel sighed. None of those problems would be solved in a day, and she gave herself over to their lament while the one person she could count on wore such urgency on his face. "I'm sorry, you wanted to talk about something?"
"It can wait. I have some errands I need to run before I go."
"And there's another problem. You won't be there tonight. How am I supposed to convince these foot-draggers without you?"
"Just remind them what Dolennass said. She's never given us reason for doubt before."
Thiliel grimaced. "You and I safeguarded this town long before Dolennass stuck her nose in our business."
"And provided aid."
"And asked for ours first."
"We've had this discussion. I trust her. The others trust her. You seem to trust her pupil."
"It's not that I don't trust her. I would just like to see more evidence of this 'aid' she claims to provide. Sure, now and again she brings us some reliable information, but is it worth the cost? And I trust Dinmir because I trust my judgment. You used to trust it too."
"Of course I trust you, but I don't always agree, and I can't let you win every argument on sheer force of personality."
"Oh no!" Thiliel looked past Laikendir, through the window and out across the street. "Taurant's at Meneluin's bakery. They can't be in such dire straits as to seek his aid, can they?"
Laikendir turned towards the window. "I can't afford to spread myself much thinner, but I'll speak with him before I go and see if there's any way I can help."
"You really intend to go, even after complaining how suspicious the timing is?"
"It's why I have to go. It's too dangerous for anyone else. Our allies run as thin as our resources, and we can't afford to refuse any mission lest our mandate be rescinded. Hope in our further success already hangs rather precariously, and if we're to hold everything together we need a victory soon. Even your Patron must feel the strain."
"Moreso than he wants to admit, I fear. I worry that what we see is the end of a scheme we never anticipated. I'm not sure how much longer we can fight if we fail to notice the tide rising around our feet. None of us can keep the entire town afloat, and the worse things get, the more difficult it becomes to convince anyone to stay."
"Yet our mission stands, and so I must go. Just promise you won't give up while I'm gone, would you?"
"When have you ever known me to give up?" They exchanged smirks, and as Laikendir turned to leave Thiliel tapped her finger on the counter, one eyebrow arched. "Ahem. Forgetting something?"
Laikendir pulled an envelope from his cloak pocket and slid it across the counter. "Thank you for reminding me. You're the one person I can trust to safeguard this."
"It's lighter than usual."
"Yes. I've rid myself of a few burdens. The papers inside are nothing more than what's necessary to ensure Gelurien retains control of my estate if I fail to return. I've told her little, but she's a quick study. I'm confident her contributions shall dwarf my own."
For the first time since he crossed the threshold, Thiliel realized something was different. There was less flourish, less pomp in his manner than she'd become accustomed to, and he was more on edge than she'd seen him in a long time. "Don't be unfair to yourself. We couldn't have held on this long without you."
"Hmm. Well, I should like your Patron to consider those papers my standing wishes into perpetuity. I don't expect I'll have much chance or reason to adjust them for the foreseeable future."
"And you expect to be in such haste you won't even stop in to inform me before you go."
"Precisely."
"Then you should know now that the others think you've enlisted Farothel's aid in our cause because he's been seen with Gelurien."
"He's merely doing me a favor. Or doing Gelurien a favor, I suppose. It has nothing to do with our work. I'll ensure they know that before I go."
"They think I should enlist Auros."
Laikendir grimaced. "Well, I'm sure you could convince him if you had a mind to."
Cold poured off his words. It had been so long since Thiliel had heard bitterness in his voice that she'd forgotten how deep such frost could bite. As long as they'd known each other, Thiliel was ashamed she hadn't seen it the moment he walked through her door. Laikendir hadn't been arguing with her, he'd been arguing with the past. Something had opened old wounds. It was written on his face. He needed someone to listen and she'd shut her ears. Thiliel couldn't afford to let another person think she didn't care.
"What happened to you two?"
"Us two?" Laikendir glanced towards the door.
"You know who I mean. I know it happened before I became her apprentice, but you two worked too well together for hatred to be the full story."
Laikendir tapped on the counter. "Well, sometimes people grow apart, and sometimes they realize they were never as close as they thought. Someday you'll understand."
"How many more years do you think I need before I can understand pain and loss? I'm not still so young as you seem to think I am and you're not so ancient. You won't say her name, but you still talk of your work together with such fondness, even the times when you two spent entire weeks quarreling."
"We don't need the knight's help. I'll tell the others before I go." Laikendir pushed away from the counter.
"Why won't you tell me? Talking about it might help."
"She was your teacher. If you wanted to know, you should've asked her." His hand wrapped around the doorknob.
"I did."
"Then you don't need me to explain. I'm sure whatever she told you was close enough to the truth."
Thiliel muttered into the flowers of a nearby plant she chose that moment to preen. "One does not typically trust their enemy to tell the truth in such matters."
"What would you have me say that she didn't? I wish to be done with it all, not to roil what's best left undisturbed."
"I spent an entire week pestering her incessantly, you know. The night before she left for the Havens, she sat down with me at last. She was proud I'd shown such persistence. She told me that's when she knew I was ready to take on her charge."
"Good job, but if that was a threat, I don't have a week for you to spend pestering."
"She wouldn't say how, but she said she'd wronged you in a way that can't be undone and can't be forgiven. According to her, the hostility between you was the only way she could make amends, to make it easier for you to move on. It didn't though, did it?"
"I still have tasks to complete."
"She knew you kept them. She wouldn't tell me what 'they' were, but I can guess."
Laikendir's hand left the doorknob and clutched his breast pocket.
"The reason I tried so hard to find someone for you was in hope you'd find healing. In the end, I think that's why she left too. If I presumed too much, then I apologize, but you deserve to be whole again."
"Yes. Well, sometimes all we can do is bear our scars with as much dignity as we can muster." He put his hand to the doorknob again, his head bowed. "Before she left, we exchanged some very harsh words. Words I know we both regretted even as we lobbed them across the table. Once she was gone and I'd cooled down, I swore to myself I'd never part with anyone like that again. So before I go, let me offer these words of conciliation: You're wiser than she was. Don't make the same mistakes."
The door closed behind him, and Thiliel was alone again. Maybe Laikendir had doubts, but she didn't. He would return. No matter how dangerous his mission, he always returned. It wasn't just Laikendir's fondness that bled through every time those stories were told. The youthful awe inspired by her teacher's telling still found purchase in the back of her mind, but that was Laikendir's own fault for living up to them. She wouldn't trade anything for it, nor for the chance to know the truth of the person behind the tales. Until his return, she had to keep things together, hold to their charge, and not let the others lose hope. She had much to organize before that night. No time for herself. No time for anyone else.
"I'm sorry, Auros. If you knew, I'm sure you'd understand."
Fools! How dare these usurpers think they had a right to even the smallest grain of Beleriand's soil! Beleriand belonged to the Eglath! Forsaken by the Valar. Forsaken by their supposed friends, ever left trailing behind along the Great March. Oh, those "friends" returned eventually, and brought ruin and betrayal with them! What friends they were! Betrayal, ruin, wrath, misfortune. Then the Lords of the West marched forth to subdue their rogue kin, only to abandon the Eglath again, now to the mercy of their "friends"! And what lords of the Eglath remained to vie for the rights of their people? None! Thrice forsaken, as those who once ruled Beleriand cowered and fled east to play mighty kings among kin long sundered.
So be it. Taurant remained. Taurant would not cower before these Noldor. He roamed these lands long before those usurpers fled the wrack of war and raised their stone walls. He would roam them long after they fled West again, or East into Eriador. Which way mattered not, so long as they were gone. Little by little, he would take from them everything they'd taken from his people: first their happiness, then their hope. Next their goods, and at last, inch by inch if he must, he would take back the land itself, even if that meant the land remained ever after absent of any voice but his.