Nara bent her head over the papers scattered across the oak desk and rubbed her sore eyes. The words on the pages blurred together in her exhaustion. So many papers, so little time. With less than twenty four hours until her coronation, she was swamped, suffocating under a mountain of things not yet done. How did her father do it?

"Nara, dear," someone said
The door creaked open.

"Yes?" Nara asked hopefully. Her uncle, Jarron, entered the room maneuvering his large, heavy set body around the delicate furniture. Nara sighed. For a moment she had hoped it was Ithilwen coming to her rescue. Then she remembered her friend was no longer in the citadel.

"Is this a bad time?" Jarron asked. Nara shook her head and smiled at her uncle. He was a second father figure to her when her own father could not be around. She'd known the mild mannered man all her life, he never raised his voice, never returned an insult, and genuinely cared for others; his niece most of all.

Jarron lifted one of the many loose papers.

"Busy?" he asked. Nara groaned and flopped bodily across the desk. Jarron chuckled.

"How did Da do it?"

"Well, as my wife used to say, 'you won't get-'"

"'Anything done by complaining about it'," Nara finished.

"Well," Jarron laughed. "There you have it, the famous proverb."

"More like infamous. Da said that all the time."

"He was her brother," Jarron concluded. "She liked to say that."

"What did you want?" Nara asked.

"Just to see how my favorite niece fared."

"Jarron, I'm your only niece."

"Ah, you found me out." Jarron mocked guilt.

"Well, since you're here you can help me with these papers," Nara gestured to the mountain of paperwork. Jarron held up his hands.

"Oh no, the council needs me soon. I'm already late."

"What do they need you for?" Nara asked.

"Oh, you know, meetings. Usually once a week."

"Da never told me about that."

"He never got the chance," Jarron said somberly. Nara nodded numbly. There was a lot her father never got to tell her.

"All right, shoo! Get out. I have work to do." Nara waved Jarron away. He bowed and swiftly exited. Nara sighed again when he left. She rested her head in her hands.

"Da, I miss you. And Wen."

Silence.

"Okay! I miss Illeandir too."

She sighed.

"I hope they're all right."

...

(My special mark is gone! It's not on my new phone! Noooooooooooooooo!)

"Illeandir!" Ithilwen yelled. "Get down from there!"

Illeandir looked down through the branches at Ithilwen. He was some twenty feet above her in a lone tree that broke the vast, flat landscape. A stiff breeze sent his hair flying into the spindly branches behind his head. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was free up here, with the tree swaying and whispering all around him.

Northwest.

He nearly lost his grip on the branch above him and plummeted to the ground. He pressed his ear to the rough bark.

Northwest.

"Northwest. Why northwest?" Illeandir asked himself. Why was the tree speaking to him? A hundred years of silence and only now they chose to speak. Why?

"Illeandir! Get down!"

"A minute," Illeandir replied. Ithilwen screamed in frustration and threw her hands up. Thrilo leaned against the tree sharpening his ax with rhythmic precision.

"If it wasn't wearing this blasted dress I'd come up after you and throw you back down!"

"Uh huh," Illeandir said distractedly. He cooked his head, listening, watching. At last he climbed down, setting himself gently on the hard ground. Ithilwen glared at him.

"You're going to kill yourself. You're arm hasn't healed, you're still limping, and you're exhausted. Don't tell me otherwise," Ithilwen said when Illeandir opened his mouth to defend himself.

"There's a village a few miles north of here," he offered. "We can stop and get supplies."

"A village? Good. We'll need somewhere warm.and dry to stay until you're healed," Ithilwen shouldered her pack. Illeandir was immediately taken aback.

"Stay? I'm not staying anywhere. Not while Zaharias is alive. I'm going to find him."

"Not the way you are now." Ithilwen began walking toward the village. Illeandir stared after her. Thrilo stood and walked past Illeandir with a grin.

"She's righ' ya know. You look awful. An' I would no' mind a good hot meal an' warm bed."

"But," Illeandir began. Thrilo reached up and patted his arm.

"You ain't gonna win this one, Elstan." Thrilo trotted after the shrinking form of Ithilwen. Illeandir sighed and followed them.

...

The village was small and tightly packed around a central, two-story building. The homes were neat and tidy. Children played outside, screeching with delight. The small round face of Everild flashed in Illeandir's mind and he smiled. He slipped back down the small rise and rejoined Ithilwen and Thrilo.

Ithilwen was searching frantically through their supplies for coins, muttering to herself. Illeandir watched her struggle before sighing and pulling a single gold coin from inside his boot. Ithilwen gave him an incredulous look when he handed it to her.

"Where did you get this?"

"Stole it back from an idiot trying to make coin off travelers," Illeandir said easily. Ithilwen glanced at the coin again. Solid gold. Rare and hard to find, but not easily mistaken for anything other than what it was.

"And before that?"

"Killed a few orcs for some rich merchant. He promised me good pay and when he didn't follow through I liberated my share and set his horses loose."

"You're a theif!"

Illeandir shrugged.

"Call me what you will, but how else will you pay for a room?" he asked.

"I brought money." Ithilwen stated and tossed his coin back.

"Where?" Illeandir caught it easily.

"It's in here somewhere." Ithilwen scoured through the bags again. When nothing came up she sighed in defeat. Illeandir smiled and proffered the coin in his outstretched hand. Ithilwen glowered and snatched the coin away.

"Fine," she huffed. Illeandir nodded once and tied a strip of cloth over his ears before pulling his hood and mask up.

"Hide you ears."

"Why?"

"Some believe the elves were evil spirits, bent on destroying their homes or bringing about another dark lord."

"No elf would do that," Ithilwen exclaimed incredulously. Illeandir gave her a sad look.

"But we helped. We have never been able to resist something so fair and good."

"The actions of our forebears do not dictate the decisions we make now," Ithilwen said laying a soft hand on Illeandir's cheek. She frowned and pressed her hand against his forehead.

"You're warm."

Illeandir pushed her away.

"I'm fine. Let's go. The sooner we get in the sooner we get out."

"Ain't tha' the truth," Thrilo muttered. "I jus' want some ho' food."

Illeandir looked at the dwarf and raised his eyebrow. He glanced furtively at Ithilwen.

"You and me both."

"Oh all right!" Ithilwen exclaimed. "I'll stop if that's what you want."

They set off down the hill and entered the village. Children stopped playing to stare at the travel-stained strangers. A few were bold enough to approach them before darting away, shrieking. One little boy ran up and tugged on Illeandir's cloak when they stopped to let a cart pass. Illeandir whirled around. The boy screamed and ran off yelling,

"Abandon quest! Abandon quest! We've been discovered!"

A dozen children burst from behind barrels, wagons, and buildings and tore after the boy who had compromised their "quest". Illeandir paused to watch them run away with a slight grin under his mask.

They approached the inn, a two story building that sagged under its own weight. It appeared solid and unmoving though. Ithilwen ducked under the low door frame. Thrilo strode through after her without a pause. Illeandir ducked but his shoulders hit either side of the doorway. He hissed sharply as pain flared up his injured arm. Turning so his shoulders would fit, he forced his way through but stood up too soon and hit his head on a low beam.

"Tanya awra!" He staggered into the common room rubbing a growing welt on his forehead. The innkeeper grinned.

"Aye, tha' door be a bugger. I used to fit through it in my younger days. Now I just come through the back. Bit wider."

The innkeeper was a round middle-aged man with gleaming brown hair and intelligent blue eyes that twinkled mischievously in the firelight from the back of the room. His square face was proud and noble. Illeandir was willing to bet he had served time as a soldier before returning home. The innkeeper turned to Ithilwen. Illeandir studied his face closely. There was something familiar about the man.

"My lady, I am Derik Foe, friends call me Hammer, welcome to The Enchanted Hammer." Derik swept his hand wildly across the room. "Customers are rare here," it was then that Illeandir noticed the inn was empty, "so I and my staff are ready available to you." Derik bowed as low as his girth would allow. Ithilwen smiled and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Derik. I am Lady Wen of Ithilien. This is Elstan and Thrilo."

"I would think a lady of such beauty would have a bigger guard," Derik said.

"They are the only one's willing to accept as small as pay as I had to accompany me to my kin in the North."

Derik cast a disapproving glance at Illeandir and Thrilo.

"Mercenaries be dangerous men to travel with."

"They're the only ones willing to travel in these times," Ithilwen said.

"Still, I wouldn't trust 'em. Had a run in with one fifteen years back working for a merchant hauling goods to the city. The rat disappeared the day after he was hired and took twenty gold coins and set our horses loose. Took us three days to round them up again."

Illeandir suddenly realized why the man was so familiar. He had been one of the soldiers working for the lying merchant who'd hired Illeandir to kill a pack of orcs that frequented the area looking for passing carts to plunder.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I trust these men," Ithilwen was saying. Thrilo coughed once.

"Man and Dwarf," she corrected herself. Thrilo rolled his eyes at Illeandir. Illeandir's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and his eyes narrowed. Derik eyed them both, he couldn't see Illeandir's mouth beneath his mask though so he had no way of telling if Lady Wren's tall companion was amused or not. He hoped it was the former, though he doubted it.

"Well, my lady, I wish you well on your travels. How many rooms can I get you?"

"Two, please. Bring three meals up as soon as you can as well." Ithilwen paused and looked back at Illeandir.

"So have medical supplies? We were attacked and Elstan was injured."

"Of course, my lady," Derik said. He looked at Illeandir again, now seeing the bandage around his upper thigh, his gaunt face, the stitches on his cheek, and the ginger way he held his right arm away from his body.

"Thank you," Ithilwen said. Derik led them upstairs. Illeandir paused at the bottom of the tall, steep steps, wondering, for a moment, if his leg would allow him to walk up. He sighed and slowly followed them up, wincing each time his injured leg had to bear his full weight.

Suddenly his vision flashed to the last time he was in an inn. Fire was all around him. A child screamed. The stairs crumbled under his feet. Smoke filled his lungs, choking the life out of him. Fire licked at his fingers, burning them.

The scene faded and Illeandir found his back against the wall. Ithilwen's face filled his vision. Worry etched lines onto her smooth skin.

"Dream?" she mouthed. Illeandir nodded. Her mouth formed a tight line. She felt his forehead again.

"You're burning," she said. Illeandir tried to speak but his voice wouldn't work.

"Don't try to talk," Ithilwen said, "let's get you upstairs."

"Is he okay?" Derik asked. Ithilwen nodded.

"He will be. His injuries were worse than I thought." Ithilwen helped Illeandir to his feet and propped him against her shoulder.

"Derik, would you please bring me your medicine supplies?"

"Right away, here are the keys to your rooms." He handed two keys to Ithilwen who gave one to Thrilo. The innkeeper hurried off, leaving them alone. Ithilwen brought Illeandir into her room and sat him on the bed.

"Take off your things," she demanded. Illeandir obliged until he was sitting in only his pants.

"Everything," Ithilwen said. Illeandir opened his mouth in protest but Ithilwen shot him a sharp glance. He sighed.

"Fine."

Ithilwen quickly examined his injuries, spending extra time at the the one on his leg. It was swollen and red. Yellow pus oozed thickly from the opening. Illeandir wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Well," Ithilwen said, "the bad news is it's infected. The good news; you haven't developed blood poisoning, yet. Much longer and you would have."

Someone knocked at the door and Illeandir threw his cloak over his body. Ithilwen opened the door to reveal Derik holding a large box.

"This is all we have, my lady. I wish I could be of more help but we don't often get customers on death's door."

Illeandir snorted. Ithilwen glared at him.

"You've done more than enough, Derik, thank you," she said kindly. Derik nodded.

"I'll have your meal brought up soon."

"Thank you."

Ithilwen closed the door and turned to Illeandir with a scowl. There was another knocking at the door before she could reprimand him.

Thrilo was at the door.

"How's Elstan?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Illeandir said bitterly. He was sick of everyone worrying about him.

"He'll live," Ithilwen said, "just needs rest."

"Ah, okay, I'll be next door," Thrilo said twisting his beard in his hands.

"Don't worry about him," Ithilwen said softly.

"Please," Illeandir groaned.

"Excuse you!" Ithilwen placed her hands on her hips and stared him down. Illeandir pulled his hood over his head and turned away.

"You've been awfully close to death for too long, sir. It's high time you rested for a few days."

Thrilo slipped back to his own room while Ithilwen scolded Illeandir.

"I'm going to get some water," Ithilwen said, "stay put."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't you sass me!" Ithilwen huffed and shut the door sharply behind her.
******************************

I can't believe I actually got this up.

It's going to be a while before the next one is up.