[Lalwendë]

The moment she entered the tent, Renedwen was impressed by the presence of the Captain. He was as her father had been once. Stern, strong and proud. Yet unlike her father he did not bear a grim countenance. He wore a mask of confidence, and she could see that he would never entertain any possibility of failure, at least openly. He was here to do the task the King had set him and nothing would prevent that, not even his own feelings.

As she sat down a strong sensation of rebellion surged through her. She did not want to be here, she would rather be anywhere than here. Why could she not be let alone? What might the Captain think she had to answer for? She felt sure all was certain to end in disaster so she could not see any reason to even try to maintain any semblance of order and discipline. She would sit here and say little if anything, and so set her mouth in a straight, grim line and stared coldly at the walls of the tent.

She did not care particularly for the Elves, or had not done so. It had been for the sake of the captured mother and child that she had allowed herself to go along with the plans of the Elves. It was the thought that if the same fate should have happened to her, then she might have been able to cling to the hope that someone might attempt a rescue and so save the life of her son. For her own fate she cared little beyond the needs of the infant. So when the Elven brothers had brought Gilly to her she had readily agreed, for the sake of the safety of her kinswoman and her child. Then when she had seen the tenderness with which Rosgollo had treated the boy she had realised with a shock that Elves were not distant and lofty folk. They too wanted to save their kin, and this was natural. As natural as her worries for the captured woman. She had been surprised that no men had been sent along with the Elves after the Orcs. Of course, the men had as usual had to discuss and debate the matter while time passed by. All these thoughts raced through her mind and made her angry with the Captain.

Yet as soon as he addressed her and did not respond with the courtesy she had given, she realised that there would be little point in trying to rebel against this man. He was a Captain of the Dunedain, just like her father had been, and with that came a resolute will, the ability to dominate and it was useless to try to do anything contrary to the wishes of such men. Her husband had been the opposite, still possessed of leadership, but where he had only ever wanted to please, Captain Hirvegil would not care if he pleased or not.

It was to her that he turned first, and after a few respectful words about her father and husband he went straight into his questions. Trying not to look him in the eye she told him that she knew the Elves merely through helping with some ‘domestic matters’. She did not go into detail and remained as frosty as possible. The Captain, however, sought detail.

“So, you would say,” he continued. “You were helping with matters which would allow them to proceed on their course of action unhindered? What sort of matters might they be?”

Renedwen, knowing full well that the Captain would not be pleased to know that Rosgollo had been sheltering a Dunedain boy, saw that she would need to deflect this question. She answered by giving him a long and detailed speech on matters of the hearth and home, of airing blankets and scouring pots and seeing that fires did not burn out. As she had hoped, the Captain’s eyes began to glaze over and he turned away and coughed. But then he turned back with another question.

“And the youth? A noblewoman such as yourself, to take an interest in him. It is interesting, is it not?” She could see that this question was not a casual one, that the Captain was posing a potentially awkward question, and she took a deep breath.

“He saved me from the city. I owe him a great debt. So I listen to him, and allow him to watch over me. Such a care is a fine and noble interest for a young man to take. He watches over me just as he watches over his own mother and brother. He will be a man to be proud of one day.” Renedwen’s icy coolness started to deteriorate at this point as she thought of everything Faerim had done and why all should be proud of the lad. She did not lose her temper, but her voice became hard and it rose in defiance. She did not look at Lissi but knew that Faerim’s mother listened to the words with pride.

“So you would say that he has much pride?” said Hirvegil, watching her closely, his brows knit sternly.

“Pride enough to do what he can in the face of this almost certain disaster,” she answered. “Letting our kinswomen and the Elves be taken in the dead of the night bodes badly for our escape. What will be next? I dare not say it. No, I will not denounce him. He has done what any worthy man might wish to do and offered his assistance where it was needed. And I am sure he will do what needs to be done to help the Elves in their rescue, if they are not already too late. Of this bravery we should all be proud.”

She swallowed hard and finished her speech. The Captain continued to watch her, and she looked deep into his eyes for a moment, realising she had probably said too much. He raised one eyebrow slightly and blinked slowly, shutting her out, before he turned away. He was through with his questions to her for now. She looked down at the floor, proud that she had stood her ground and had her say, but suddenly afraid that she might have said too much in her cold anger.