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Kestrel had come away from Borgand with an impression of weariness, not too unlike Wolf, she thought. Here was a man who was doing his best for his people and she could understand that. The weight on Borgand's shoulders was no less than the weight on those of Wolf. Perhaps she despised them less, now. Perhaps she did not. But it remained that she had come to them first, and when the other hillmen realized this, she would never be welcome among them again. She had burned her bridges behind her.
As Borgand finished his speech, she began to step forward, intending to declare that she would live with the settlers. There was resignation on her face, as well as hope of sorts. She did not expect the Dunedain to accept her easily, especially not after hearing about all those they had lost as well.
She shivered a little, took a deep breath, and began to speak, pitching her voice to be heard over the angry shouts of both groups. "I and my children will stand with the Men of the West," she shouted. "I will raise Flint and Rain side by side with their children. They will play together and they will grow together. Let us fight no more."
Someone among the crowd of Hillmen hissed, "Traitor!" Kestrel did her best to ignore it, but she couldn't help feeling that he was right--whoever he was. Wolf would have thought the same, she was sure. But she had spoken, and the words could not be taken back, so she limped, head high and children clasped with each hand, to the side of Borgand. A single tear slid from her good eye. She refused to wipe it away.
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