Part 18

Haldir broke off a piece of Lembas bread, and handed it to Ayleth.

They had settled beneath a rocky overhang, for a few moments’ rest. Master Sighard had promptly fallen asleep, and Haldir had decided not to wake him, but was ready to muffle the man’s snoring, should he hear the reivers approaching.

“They are not coming,” said Ayleth, softly.

Haldir turned to her, frowning. She often knew what he was thinking, and would simply join in, as though his private thoughts were part of a conversation.

But that was not the case this time.

“Lord Legolas and Lady Eowyn,” she said. “They’re prisoners.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“How can you know?”

She shrugged. “How can I know anything?” She contemplated the Lembas. “What are you going to do, Haldir?” She took a bite.

The elf sighed. There was no time to devise an elaborate plan. “I will carry you farther down the cliff,” he said. “We will find a ledge or—better still—a cave, where you will be safe, and I will ask Master Sighard to stay behind, to protect you, should—”

“No,” she said. “Take me with you.”

“I cannot.” He took hold of her hand, and brought it to his chest. “I want to keep you safe, Faeren,” he said, raising her hand to his lips, “but, more than that, I need to keep you away from him. You have something he wants, Ayleth, and keeping you apart will buy me time.”

“But suppose I can do something? To help you defeat him, I mean.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, thinking aloud. “He believes that I can find a way to lift the curse and leave him with his immortality. But I’ve been wondering—suppose I can lift the curse and just leave him dead?”

...

Faeren ... My spirit.