Watershed

     “Again.”
I grimace, pulling back to stand ready, my sword held out before me. My tormentor grins at me unrepentantly, arms folded across his chest.
“You looked at your feet,” he explains, moving to stand ready before nodding at me to try the move again. We have not been training together long, but already I am realising the enormous amount of things I did not know about fighting – things he has been trying to teach me since stumbling across me training on my own in the forest. In his green sentinel's gear he looks utterly at home here, standing relaxedly on the carpet of green and gold. He eyes me patiently, and I try and wrench my thoughts away from yesterday's meeting and on to what I am doing.

      I was so happy to see Tingruviel again that for a while I almost forgot about everything else. Celephindir showed us around some of his favourite places in Caras Galadhon, and we spoke of nothing more than the beauty of the place. Once or twice I caught Tingruviel looking at me strangely, but I do not think even she realised what was wrong, at least not at first. For once, however, I could not forget Celephindir's allegiances and simply enjoy his company. Galdorion's bitter words about their Order still rang in my ears, and almost every time I looked at him I wondered whether he knew yet: and what he would do when he did. I did not have to worry long: I don't know whether he already knew, or whether he guessed from what was said, but it seems clear that he knows where Galdorion is. I have avoided them both since that night, hoping that Celephindir would hesitate, maybe even that he would wait until he was sure to tell others. Perhaps I even hoped that Galdorion would return before he did so, making my hopeless attempts at concealment unnecessary. A part of me feels guilty for such behaviour – I wish I could simply explain everything to Tingruviel and seek her help as I always have in the past. Perhaps I could – Galdorion clearly feels no need to hide what he is doing – he goes under an alias but takes no thought for what will happen if he is missed. I am not as ready as he is to risk the consequences. We barely survived his house's last judgement, I am afraid even to consider what they will do if they discover that even here he has refused to abide by their orders.

      A clash of steel: I am a second too slow to react as my sword spins out of my hand, my instructor frowning as he points his own at my chest for a moment, making it clear that the bout is over. He continues to frown as he moves to where it has landed, bending to inspect it briefly as he picks it up.
“You are distracted today,” he rebukes me mildly. I hesitate before nodding, aware that it is useless to pretend otherwise. I am distracted. My thoughts are on the night before, my heart not even on this side of the river. I reach out to take my sword from him, but he hesitates, holding on to it for a moment more, so that I find myself looking at him curiously.
“Perhaps this is a good moment to tell you: I return to my duties in the area of Fanuidhol tomorrow,” he says after a pause, giving me an assessing look. “I would like you to come with me.”
I give him a surprised look, about to object, but he is already speaking again: “We are always in need of more fighters – and there are others there who you could learn a great deal from. I do not expect to be there more than a few days – the scouts will return only shortly before we will, and you will find it harder to be distracted there, I am sure.” He glances at me almost sympathetically, before holding my sword out for me to take.

      It seems such an easy suggestion, made like this. I can take up my sword once more and lose myself in the simple rightness of fighting against the enemy – among a company sworn to do the same. Everything else is so complicated that I barely know how to make decisions any more. I avoid those who should be my friends, and mourn those who were once my enemies. I am left alone by the person I swore to stand beside. On the borders of this land, none of these problems will matter: only the fight with those we must stand against. Yet there are dangers, too. I cannot help but remember wandering hopelessly through a maze of stone, unending, unable to escape and return to the light. I remember a circle of stone and a single judgement, a sentence that was upheld once again in a chamber filled with autumn light. I remember promises given under a canopy of leaves, and I remember a kiss that tasted of tears, and the sight of Galdorion walking away from me into the shadows of a once-golden world. My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword almost before I am aware of making the decision. I am suddenly tired of keeping promises to someone who is not even here to care, tired of pretending that his actions do not feel like betrayal. Galdorion has made his decision despite the consequences – it is time for me to make my own.

      I give a single nod, raising my sword once more. My companion nods approvingly, saying nothing. There is nothing more to say – it is done. Our peace is broken. I cannot even be glad that it was not I who broke it.