The late-spring frost came on without any warning; but Xerxes knew the signs. The Ents became quiet quite suddenly, different from how they went to sleep in the autumn one at a time, so the crowd of voices became quieter day by day. But this was a hush that fell on Fangorn all at once.

It could have been nothing - often the trees would grow quiet when a crowd of rogue orcs strayed a little too close to the treeline, but after the fleeing of Isengard, every orc and Uruk-hai and Southborn human knew never to enter Fangorn Forest. Xerxes decided not to ignore the hint. He made preparations to protect his garden, just in case. It was late May and he thought the cold had gone from Middle Earth for summer - but he knew better than to let probability judge the fate of his ripening vegetables. He threw sheets over the plants, light and airy but thick enough to fend off frost before it grew dark that night. The kid wanted to help, but Xerxes didn't let her. He had to make sure that this was done right. Besides, it didn't take long.

The Ents were right. That night was cold - cold enough to snow if only the clouds had been heavy enough for it. If he hadn't been cautious with his plants, as he always was, some or all surely would have perished.

It was chilly, but not like it had been all winter, before the girl showed up. He didn't even have to set up the fireplace to fall asleep every night like he'd had to up until the last month or so; an extra blanket had served him just fine, even without Bill at the foot of his bed for once. He was glad to save on the firewood.

He wasn't sure what woke him in the middle of the night, but it wasn't the cold. Perhaps it had been a night terror, twisted memory more like, reminding him of all his regrets, all his mistakes. In any case, he woke up panting and sweating and got up with the intention of getting a glass of water and maybe a breath of fresh air - cold as it may have been - on the front step. He had his water and his back against the dining table in the middle of his kitchenette as he drank it down. He only got about halfway through the glass when he noticed something across from him in the dark shadow of the sitting room in the greying hours before dawn.

In his armchair, a shape, curled up so tight it could've been a small child - but he knew it wasn't. With a slight pang he remembered his apprentice and noticed in the same moment how she was shaking. She was cold. He'd never given her a blanket. On the arm of the chair was Bill, and he watched Xerxes with almost angry green eyes. So that was where he went.

"Traitor." Xerxes hmphed, but he couldn't stop the guilt leaking through his body from the pit of his stomach like poison. Bill turned his gaze from him, curling up on the armchair as if to go back to sleep.

Xerxes wanted to go back to bed - even tried to. But he couldn't rest thinking of the poor girl out there shivering. His heart winning over his pride in a way it hadn't for a long, long time, he got up, grabbing the top layer of his blankets and striding out to the sitting room. As he crossed the the fireplace, he half tossed the blanket onto the sleeping form of the girl before crouching by the hearth and throwing a couple of logs on, willing her to stay asleep.

He struck a match and lit some old crumpled pieces of paper around the wood which would soon catch. He watched as they did, wanting to make sure so he wouldn't have to get up again. The flames slowly but surely grew and began to dance before his eyes, and he watched without looking away. The flames always reminded him of things he lost - of the dancing around it, the sacred bond built in its light long ago, of the holy burning he would regret for the rest of his life, and the betrayal thereafter. Fire always came to him no matter how hard he tried to be rid of it. It changed his life again and again for better or worse - but mostly for worse.

"M... Master Gannon...?"

Damn it.

"Go back to sleep, kid." Xerxes muttered without looking back.

He felt her young eyes on him, watching him or perhaps the fire, for some time. But finally, he heard fabric shift, and when he risked a glance back, he saw that she had settled, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, with Bill in her arms. Bill was looking at him again, this time with a much less accusing look. Xerxes snorted under his breath, but said nothing to the cat as he stood, and the feline settled down again, curled up and purring on Elinor's chest. He loved the girl and barely left her side since she'd arrived. Xerxes didn't mind much; it meant more time for himself, and more love for Bill than he'd been willing to express.

He crossed back to the kitchen and finished his glass in one long swig, setting it down in the sink before heading towards his room - but a soft voice stopped him.

"Thank you."

He blinked and glanced at the chair. The girl had leaned her head back on the arm so she could see him and was smiling at him with sleepy brown eyes. They closed again after a second and her face turned towards the fire for warmth. She was no longer shivering.

Xerxes didn't smile, but his chest warmed a little. It was the fire, he told himself, and returned to bed to sleep away the rest of the night. It wouldn't be many more hours before it would be time to rise for training.