[Nerindel]

Once back at the settlement Captain Anhelm had seen him to the small dimly lit room of the healers, where they now fussed about applying cold compresses and strange smelling ointments to his bruised and battered face and ribs, ignoring his insistent reassurances that he was fine and that he had to get back to where he would be needed most. Another healer pressed a cup to his lips and urged him to drink; hoping that if he complied they would finally let him go he drank. The sweet tasting liquid ran warm down his throat warming his entire body.

“Can I go now!” he asked handing the cup back to the healer, The dowdy older man frowned disapprovingly, shaking his head, “That rib may be more than just bruised; you should at least rest a while.”

Before he was even finished Astalder was shaking his head, “The Captain will need every able body he can muster, I am a little bruised, not dying!” he insisted, impatience lacing his words.

“Stubborn!” the healer snorted shaking his head, “Soldiers! always eager too rush to meet deaths call” he muttered shaking his head and wandering over to a low set shelf. , Where he removed a small dark bottle.

“Here, if you insist on this madness then at least take this,” he said placing the bottle into his hands.

“What is it?” Astalder asked holding the bottle to the light and examining it’s curiously.

“It is nothing much, just a healing draught, but you may well need it.” Astalder nodded his thanks and slipped the bottle into his pouch.

“Now get you gone before I change my mind!” the healer sighed deliberately turning away to tend another of his wounded. Astalder grinned and quickly made his way out of the room. As he reached the stairs that lead to the Armoury he heard a familiar voice, cracked and filled with worry and concern.

“Astalder… Please, I’m looking for my Husband I was told he was brought here, Astalder!”

“Feawyn” he called to her, she turned in his direction and he could see that dark lines that traced her delicate eyes and tears that rolled down her relieved face, she smiled and ran towards him. He winced as she wrapped her arms about him and resting her head on his chest. “I feared you where lost,” she sobbed silently.

“I promised I would return,” he whispered stroking her golden hair; she looked up at him and managed a weak smile.

“Captain Anhelm has ordered the evacuation! But you will not be coming with us, will you?” she sighed, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

He pulled her closer as he regretfully shook his head, “I must remain, I have seen our enemy, their numbers are great and they are not far enough behind for all of us to retreat to the safety of Pelargir. We must stand and hold the fort long enough for you and the other get to safety. He whispered.

“What good is that safety if we do not have you there to share it with us!” she cried, her pleading eyes touching his heart that he thought it would break.

“I am always with you, my love. No matter where I am, my every thought is of you and little Falmir, But I must stay.” he smiled sympathetically, brushing away her tears. Slowly she nodded her head, she knew that everything he did in his life was done to protect them and his people, Gondor was in his blood and nothing she could do or say would ever change that, he was the last lord of the fallen city of Minas Ithil and even if he denied his heritage he could not escape it, it was carved into his very being.

“You do what you have too.” She smiled weakly, forcing her tears back and pulling slowly out of his comforting embrace, “just know that I will always love you” she whispered as she turned and hurried down the passage.

“And I you” he whispered staring after her.

“Astalder?” another voice questioned. With a start he turned to face his addressor, “Yes, I am he.” he answered seeing one of Anhelm’s officials.

“Captain Anhelm wishes to speak with you, once you feel up to it,” the man flustered.

“Well I am up to it, just let me get suited up and I will speak with him,” he answered.

“Good, good, The captain is already in the Armoury” the older man said gesturing for him to follow.

Nodding his consent he followed the official through the dimly lit passages to the makeshift armoury. As informed the Captain was already there, tall and strong the very image of a Captain of Gondor, his helmed head held high as he studied his sword and contemplated the approaching battle. Astalder felt proud to he witness to the young mans loyal determinations and any doubts he had about the captains abilities now faded from memory, in the young Captains eyes he could see the same zeal for crown and country that drove him to stand and fight. Unsheathing his sword and raising it to his brow he bowed respectfully.

“I stand ready to serve and protect,” he said re-sheathing his sword. As he approached his captain a young man appeared with his things, Astalder nodded his thanks and taking the heavy bundle, gestured for the lad to leave that he would attend himself. As Anhelm spoke, he pulled on a chain mail tunic over which he slipped on the black and silver livery of his station, a Roquen of Gondor, noticing with a slight smile the embroidery to the shoulder, the mark of his house, a crescent moon raising over a white tower.

“Feawyn” he whispered touching the fine stitches, for only she in the settlement would know his true heritage. With a shake of his head he fastened on his vambraces and re-belted his sword about his waist, holding his helm under his arm.

“I’m yours to command!” he said once he was ready.