The Pentagrid Net

[Mathron]

Harnauro sat, and twitched every few moments. Around him, Erenfor's company was feasting merrily.

Why did I come to this, he thought to himself, nervous at being around so many people. He could command soldiers on the battlefield, though he preferred to work alone... he had faced down against Nazgul, and a Balrog. Yet sitting here making pleasant conversation left a deep chill in the pit of his stomach, and he twitched again.

"Hi there!" He looked up to see Kaytrien there, with a plate of food. She sat next to him, and slid it in front of him. "You haven't eaten a bite! You're supposed to be recovering, remember."

He stared at it, and sighed. He was hungry, but the nervousness in his stomach wasn't going to make the food easy to eat. As for recovering, even the wounds from the Nazgul's fell blade had, by now, completely healed. The curse on him came from the same master they served, and was far more fell and ancient.

She poked him in the side, and he glared at her.

"Well?" She glared back. "Don't I get a thank you?"

He closed his eyes. Eru, give me patience.

He did his best to smile - though it looked a bit more like a wolf's grin, his teeth shining in the firelight far too brightly - and he said, "Thanks." He took a long swallow of the wine that was being passed around. And then another.

It would take a while to get him, but he did start to feel it take effect, and chatting was a bit easier, and the food went down without a problem. Soon he had a small crowd gathered around him as he told various stories of his own adventures throughout the ages, as well as some from the more recent days, with Malagar, and Slythre, and many others.

Perhaps this wasn't so bad, after all. He lifted up his glass of wine - refilled once again, though he wasn't sure by who. He smiled at Kaytrien, and gave a shout, "To life!"

[Arat-Falathion]

"To life!" BÃ*renath and Lumënion shouted in reply together with Turion and every other being sitting near enough to hear his voice.

"It all came to an happy ending after all," BÃ*renath said turning to Turion. Turion turned to BÃ*renath. "Again I must remind you that this is only the beginning, and tomorrow we shall head to the White City of Gondor. But be happy now as well as you may, because even darker times shall be seen before this war is wholy over." Turion sipped some wine and sat down in deep thought.

Turning to Lumënion, BÃ*renath continued. "That may very well be yes. We should have lightened hearts for tonight my dear friends and allies!" BÃ*renath then got to his feet and sang out in a clear and fair elven voice of all the happenings that had accured since he came to Middle Earth, and the others sat back with astonishment...

[Lief Erikson]

Mal and Slythre joined the group, and they listened to BÃ*renath's song. The notes rang out over the tables and all quieted to listen to the fair music. When the song ended, for a minute or two there was only silence, from which those who had listened seemed to drink as they soaked in what they had heard.

Then, slowly the feasting and general merriment began again, continuing on throughout the night, coming to an end only at the break of day.






Slythre's horse pawed the ground, ready to get started, but she ignored it. Her clothing was made of a thick dark green material, and there was a dark gray cloak fastened about her neck. Her dagger was at her side and her blanket rolled up on the back of her horse, along with her other baggage, and her spear.

She saw Harnauro looking at her from beneath a tree nearby. She was surprised at the what she thought she saw within him. There was an expression on his face that she had never seen there before. It was almost . . . contentment.

Mal glanced at her, and smiled. "You're coming, then?"

For a moment she just stood there, holding her horse's rein and looking back at him before answering. "No, I'm afraid not."

There was a flicker of surprise and disappointment visible on his face for a moment before he turned back to his saddlebag. "You'll be sorely missed."

She didn't answer, and he finished with his saddlebag. Walking over to her, he gave a small smile. "But would you be willing to answer why? I thought I heard yesterday something about maybe."

"Yes," she answered, smiling back. "But since then I have thought about it. Things for me are not what they once were. I left Unvar, and all that was my life was gone. I went off with you and Harnauro after Vardor was destroyed, but what life is that? All that fills the time from then to now is wanderings, adventures and constant battle with the forces of evil. Brave things, certainly, and ones that I am willing to keep.

"But I'm not like you, in that way, Mal. Or Harnauro. For me, by itself, those things aren't enough."

There was another pause, before Mal spoke again. "Where will you go?"

She shrugged, uncertainly. "Perhaps to Rivendell, with Tessar. I don't know precisely."

"Well . . ." he looked sad for a moment, and opened his mouth halfway, as if there was something else he would say. But instead, he turned around and went back to his horse, putting his foot in the stirrup.

"Good luck on whatever road you travel," he said, pulling himself upright on his mount.

She turned around sharply, hiding a tear which was forming in one of her eyes, and mounted her own horse. "To you too," she said, looking back at them.

She turned her face toward Harnauro, who was now walking toward them. "Goodbye, Harnauro. May your path turn from sorrow to joy and may you find the peace you seek."

He nodded, and glanced sidelong at Mal for a moment. Then he turned back to Slythre and raised a hand. "Farewell to you too, until we meet again."







Colmade watched the people silently this morning, from Thronai, the tower of the Istari. He watched Slythre ride back into the camp, to speak with Erenfor about leaving his army, and he watched Mal and Harnauro slink away into the woods, and he saw the pain in the hearts of both, and particularly that of Mal.

He saw Erenfor, and Alfwine, and knew that a lasting friendship and bond was already forming between the two men. It had been formed in the beginning through battle, but it was becoming something more between the young warrior of Rohirrim, and the elf lord of ages past.

He saw Lumenion and BÃ*renath, still seated at the table of celebration while most others were all gone finally to bed. They were talking of what was past, each catching up upon the part of the life of the other which he had missed.

Peace for some had come through this chain of events, but it looked as if for a few others, it still eluded. No, this whole adventure was not the end for all of these people; there was still much left to happen.

But for he, at least, perhaps the end had come. He would remain here for some time yet, guarding the stronghold of the Istari until some other wizard came to take his place. Someone he could trust, and who would fill his shoes so that he could retire in peace.

Colmade lowered his aged hand from the page of his book and put his pen down on the desk beside it. Then, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, letting sleep steal him away in its pleasant release.