The Empty Vessel

Chapter 21

Let the dead speak or Deep in the Heart of Baradur.

***
The West Wind returns and with gentle accents
Makes the air pleasant and quickens one's step
And, murmuring among the green branches
makes the meadow flowers dance to its lovely sound...

Monteverdi: Zefiro torna

***

Byn syn sat at the long table, watching as the Steward's long finger roamed the columns of figures.

"This does not add up." There was quiet for several minutes. "Nor does this column." Faramir looked up, angry eyes towards the King. "There is a system and it is very clever, but this man has long been skimming funds." He took in the three people sitting at the table with him, peering at them from around the stacks of ledgers. "If what Haldir's lady says is true, it is even worse."

"The man is a criminal, my liege."

Aragorn sat at the head of the table, head between his hands, no sound heard but that of his heavy exhaled breath.

"He tried to arrest you?" The question was aimed at the broad Elf to his right.

"Aye."

"Your lady was accosted?"

"Accosted?" Bronwyn screeched. "Accosted? I was freaking robbed!" She looked down at the slender Steward, alarm on his face at her unusual language. "Four hours of work, tips, dumped in someone else's stinking, sweaty scum-sucking wallet!"

The two men and the Elf looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I take it, she didn't like him?" Aragorn whispered to his friend. Haldir shook his head.

"That is an understatement!"

There was silence as they watched Faramir continued to carefully search the book, his brow furrowing further and further into a knot.

"Sire. This is theft. I cannot begin to imagine how the people in this town are suffering."

"You cannot imagine?" Bronwyn shot up from her seat, her fists clenched white across the knuckles. "You cannot imagine? Aragorn, they hide their money. They hide it in order to survive, to scrape by. That... that... that... prickless wonder took everything I had and was threatening to strip search me for more!!" Her chest heaved in aggravation.

"Baraermin. Please." Haldir's voice was soft. Cajoling. She glared at the placating Elf. "This outburst cannot be good for our daughter."

She turned her fury on the Elf. "Your son is turning somersaults like a gymnast and has been since I got up this morning!" She did not notice the looks of confusion her three table mates gave each other.

"Is it her nap time, Haldir?" Aragorn had his voice low, in a whisper. She heard anyway.

"Do not patronize me, dammit!" She stepped away from her chair, her loose, empire-waisted dress flowing regally behind her. "I know where this conversation is going and I will not allow it to go on without me! If I go to take a nap, then Haldir," she pointed angrily at the Elf still sitting, "needs one too!"

Haldir's eyebrow shot up aristocratically.

"Do not do that!"

"Do not do what?"

Bronwyn's face was quite red as she inhaled deeply. "That.. that..." her hand flapped furiously at him, " that... thing you do with your eyebrow!"

His eyebrow shot back up again. ‘What thing?"

Her frustrated growl rose in the air. Faramir looked at his liege lord, fear clearly etched on his face. "May I take a break, m'lord? All of these columns are running together."

Aragorn looked at the frustrated, red-faced woman and the nonplussed Elf. "Perhaps, we should both sneak down into the kitchens and startle the cooks while these two..." he saw Haldir's eyes slide in his direction, "talk." Very quickly, the two men ducked out the door.

"You have frightened them, Baraermin. I dare say Faramir will seriously rethink his upcoming nuptials."

"Do not change the subject! I know where this conversation is leading and I won't have it!"

Haldir sighed deeply. He knew where the discussion was headed as well and he was in a difficult position. She had been angry since being summoned into Aragorn's presence and was itching for a good argument. ‘Let her vent.' was the best his mind could come up with.

"And where, Baraer, is this conversation going?" He had stood up and after coming around the table, was leading her out onto the flower covered balcony.

"He wishes for you to return there. Take a contingent of men and arrest that miscreant! He will ask and you will do it and you will leave me here!" She stabbed her finger at the floor.

"It would be a prudent move on his part. He needs someone there who has seen them, seen who accosted you." Haldir put his arms protectively around her, both looking out and over into the gardens. "You could stay here and read the old scrolls from the ancient library to your heart's content. Elrond is here. Gandalf is here. You would have no lack of company."

He felt her exhale. Bronwyn turned and looked into deep blue orbs. She could see the concern, the worry for her in his eyes and it took the wind from her sails, deflated her anger. She turned her back to him again, leaning into powerful muscles; feeling protected, safe.

"I am being selfish. I do not wish you to leave me."

His lips caressed her ear. "I would not be gone long, Baraer." He could feel the conflict in her mind and delved. "You do not wish to return there, do you?"

"No. I wish..." her voice trailed off, her attention focused on the incoming storm from the west.

"You wish what?"

She looked down, her fingers plucking at the embroidery of his tunic sleeve. His lips caressed her neck and she closed her eyes in sheer bliss. "I wish you would take me back to that table and finish this!"

She was putting him off. Her body was exhausted from the frantic trip back and he knew she did not have the strength to uphold the challenge she had issued to him.

"Nay." His hands moved to her belly, where it was just beginning to mound. "You will tell me what you wish and then I will take you back to our rooms where a hot bath with many bubbles waits. I will wash your hair and rub your back and you will sleep."

She exhaled again.

"Baradur."

The word hung between them.

"Bara... Bronwyn, I do not think..."

She spun quickly in his arms, her hands at the ties of his tunic, smoothing, rearranging. Her eyes searched his out.

"Haldir, Baradur will quickly fall into a state of disrepair, into ruin. There is something there, I know it, I feel it and I wish to go. As soon as possible. Tomorrow. Now." She turned back around and looked into the approaching storm clouds. A cool breeze heralded the rains coming and she gloried in the wind.

Haldir was quiet for several moments, enjoying the wind on his face, feeling her yearning, and now at a serious cross road. She was astute, brazen, planting this wish in this way.

"Can this trip not wait until after our child is born?"

"No. The fortress crumbles as we speak. Orcs ransack the keep and there is little time. There will be nothing left but a pile of rocks in a year." She twisted again in his arms and burrowed into his chest. "You will tell me no, I know it."

"You make it difficult for me, Baraer, now. I know if I leave you to do this for the King," his arms tightened around her shoulders, "you will be out the gates towards the east no sooner than my dust has fallen back to Earth, with my brothers and Heridil riding your flank. Or worse, the twins of Elrond. That would be an adventure they would enjoy..." His thoughts trickled off.

She leaned her head against his chest, burrowing in. "Can't your brothers go? They saw him too."

Haldir was deep in thought and all was quiet, only the sound of the wind and the coming rain heard in the tress. He reached down and with an elegant finger, tipped her chin up.

"Let me take you to our rooms. I will order a light repast for us and a hot bath for you. We will eat, relax, I will rub the kinks from your back. While you rest," his finger went from her chin to cross her lips, sealing them shut, "Shhh, Baraermin, hear me out. While you rest, allow me to talk to my brothers, Aragorn, and some others. Allow me to explore options. I promise," his forehead dipped and touched hers, "I promise not to leave you behind." He saw the skeptical look in her eyes. "Trust me. If you are going to push me into going to Baradur, trust me into finding a safe way of getting us there." He kissed her gently on the lips, and arm in arm, he led her to their rooms.

Four weeks later, after seeing his brothers off with the King and a regiment of soldiers, and forcing her to rest for the period. Haldir and Bronwyn, along with Heridil and Elrond's sons rode east towards Mordor.

Bronwyn had never seen two Elves so excited to hunt Orcs.

***

Agnus Dei
Qui tol lis pec ca ta
Mundi misere nobis

Machaut fr Mass: Agnus Dei I

***

The stench was over-powering.

"How did we get roped into this?" Elrohir asked his brother. The twins looked around the wasteland. "Haldir said nothing about coming here."

"I do not think he knew." Elladan hissed back. "We were how many days out when she started in on Haldir." They had heard the whispered arguing between the two late at night several days out of Minas Tirith. The twins stood several feet behind the angry Elf, who stood watching his wife.

Haldir did not know whether to be disgusted or angry, so he was both. Three days into their journey, she had raised the question of a... scenic detour. This was NOT a scenic detour.

This was the Dead Marshes.

They had argued over it for several nights. He couldn't understand why she needed to come. She was insistent.

"They are there. I must speak with them!"

"They who?" Haldir wasn't following, wasn't understanding. "Who must you speak with in the Dead Marshes?"

"I don't know! I just need to go! Please!"

"Why? Why in all of Middle Earth do you need to go there?" Haldir yanked on a lock of hair and then giving up on that, rolled her closer into his arms. The ground their bed roll lay on was uncomfortable and she was becoming stiff in her back quickly.

Since returning from Mansfield, her stomach had become more pronounced; she was now ‘showing'. She could no longer wear her regular clothes, her leggings, much to her combined dismay and delight. Her knife belt would not fit either, so she carried it and them over her shoulder. The child was active and Haldir took great pleasure in feeling the babe's quirky movements. Salkealked to the babe, chattering nonsense in many languages, caressing and patting her stomach. Haldir would roll his eyes and mutter about ‘silly women'. But at night, after all were in reverie, he would snuggle up to her and whisper outlandish endearments to ‘his little she - Elfling'.

"I do NOT know." Bronwyn's voice was whispered, yet strident. "I just need to go." She rolled on her back, giving him better access to her ‘bumper'. "I don't know why I need to go. I just need to!"

"You are repeating yourself, Baraermin."

Bronwyn jerked up out of the roll and walked away from the small camp, arms crossed protectively across her abdomen, unaware of the pair of Elven slitted eyes following her. Haldir sighed deeply and pulling himself up, followed her.

She had walked to the edge of the camp fire light, looking out into the darkness. Strange noises filtered down from the mountain and deep inside, she was very frightened. Haldir's arms snaked around, encasing her hands, her stomach, their babe, in his strong embrace and pulled her close to him.

"Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you are thinking. What pulls you?" His voice was whispered comfort, begging, attempting to ease her heart.

"Cormmin." she whispered, her hand sliding from under his and reaching up to caress his jaw. "Heru en Cormmin." Her sigh was pronounced, heavy. "I do not know. It is not a voice telling me, it is a tug. It started as a gentle pull and the further we get from White City and closer the mountains, the borders of Mordor, the more insistent it becomes. I must go." Her plea was submissive, beseeching. "Please. I ask for so little"

The noise Haldir made through his nose was brusque and obnoxious. "You ask for much and you know it!" He down looked into imploring eyes and took a deep breath. "We do this against my better judgment, you do know that!"

She gave him a small smile. "If you decide the road is too dangerous, then I will acquiesce to your wisdom in this matter."

"You will not!" he snorted. "I know you too well." He kissed her quickly before she could complain. "You will figure out a way to talk me back into it." His eyes searched the darkness, seeing more than he let on. Heridil was out there somewhere, patrolling and soon it would be his watch. He wanted her down and resting before his turn came. "We will go." He felt her sag in relief in his arms. "We will go, but you must follow me and my instructions without fail. Please trust my decisions. You might have to wait for an explanation."

"Aye. I will."

Haldir looked deep into her eyes, looking for any subterfuge on her part. Seeing none, he snorted. "We will see." Taking her by the hand, he led her back to the roll and curling up to her side, he whispered the sleep words in her ear and felt her body slide into deep slumber.

When Heridil came in from his watch, thirty minutes later, he confirmed Haldir's fear. They were being followed, marked, by a band of Orcs.

***

They had not been attacked, only tracked, far from Bronwyn's vision and per Haldir's pleas to Heridil and the twins, none told her. She was unaware, painfully following her tug, the pull that dragged her to this wretched place. As they got closer, Bronwyn began to talk in her sleep, her words terrifying the Elves.

"Let the dead speak. Let the dead speak. They must have their say. They must be released. Let the dead speak."

Heridil was the most frightened.

"I do not wish to go, Haldir. You know why."

Haldir was yanking on his braid. "I know, Heridil. I am sorry." He turned to his brother's friend. "Had I known, I would not have asked you come with us. Your only choice now is to stay here or come with us." Haldir reached out to clasp the Elf on the shoulder. "Truly, I am sorry. I wish no pain for you."

"Does she know?" Heridil's voice was a strangled whisper. "Does she know? Haldir... I do not remember my father. They could not find his body. To come to this place, where I know he lies somewhere..." The Elf's adam apple bobbed with fearful anticipation.

"Nay. Should I tell her?"

The four Elves watched quietly as she fearfully stepped into the marshes.

***

Tristisest animamea usque ad mortem
Susinete hic, et vigilate mecum
Nunc videbitis turbam, quae circumdabit me
Vos fugam capietis
Et ego vadam immolari pro vobis

Lassus: Tristis est anima mea

***


And so now they watched, watched as she gingerly stepped through the stagnant mud, her boots making odd sucking noises as she lifted them from the mire. She wandered over to the edge of the bog and sank to her knees, the Elves closely monitoring her movements.

They saw her peer into the waters.

They saw her push her sleeves up.

They saw her raise her hands, fingers working, stretching. Haldir's face contorted in horror, disbelief etched in his very countenance.

They were not prepared to see her shove both hands into the waters, fingers curved to clutch, her mouth moving, speaking.

Haldir was the first to reach her. He grabbed her and yanked her back.

She refused to release the body of the fallen, long-dead warrior in her grip. Thick slime oozed from orifices of the pale, bloodless face, the helmet, the armor of the Elf. Her words, spoken from a far away place, were clear to him and to Elrohir and Elladan, who followed close behind.

Heridil stayed put. His eyes were sorrowful, his heart wanted desperately to move onward, follow them to her, but his legs - his legs refused to listen, refused to obey. So deep in his own sorrow, he could not hear her words.

"Elf. He was Celandone of Doriath. His wife had faded for the Halls when he did not return. He left three children, one who also died on this plain. Go, go to the Halls of Waiting. Go to your wife. Rest peacefully in the light, Celandone." She released the rotting body, which disintegrated upon her release of it and it quickly slid back into the bog, sinking out of sight.

"Baraer... Bronwyn... please..."

She looked up at her husband, tears filling her eyes. "I saw his life, Haldir. He wished to go to his wife and he did not know how. He could not hear the singing. Oh Haldir, he died horribly, in pain. I saw it all." She started to reach out and touch his cheek, but realized as she lifted her hand, that it was coated in decaying muck.

"Haldir. Look. It is awful." The voice was Elrohir's. As Haldir turned Bronwyn lose, his eyes followed where his finger pointed. Elladan's face was horrified. As Haldir caught sight of the bodies of fallen warriors, floating in the waters, she moved on, perusing the dead. Soon, she fell to her knees again, her hands plunging.

"Orc. Grimrash, the Bad-Moon. You are forgiven. Go, seek the light."

Elladan had finally found his voice. "What is she doing, Haldir?" They followed her, staying behind, but close enough to grab her if she fell.

"She is letting the dead speak." Haldir silently cursed the Valar. What wretched gift was this to impose on her? This was no way to learn of the battle that began the Third Age. There were too many survivors - Elrond, Celeborn, to name a few - too many she could talk to. Why had they dragged her here? He turned and looked at Heridil. For every ten steps Bronwyn and the three Elves took into the Marshes, Heridil took two. The former March Warden could feel for the Elf, could understand his terror, his reluctance and he would ask no more of him on this trip. He turned his attention back to the twins. "She is seeing their lives, seeing their story, seeing their deaths."

"Why?" Both spoke in unison, together.

"Because," Haldir snarled distastefully, "because the Valar have pulled her to it."

Bronwyn had moved and her voice raised again.

"Man. He was Halfred of Maywatch. His wife's name is Marilla. She was pregnant with their first child. You had a fine son, Halfred. Go, rest in the light, in the place of your fathers, Halfred of Maywatch."

They followed her for hours. She was not particular in whom she touched. She touched Men, Elves, Orcs equally. Sometimes, her sobs broke into the narrative she chanted.

"Elf. Also of Doriath. Arborion. Ah, Sweet Elbereth. He was only a baby, only 122 years old. Go, seek the Halls of Waiting. Rest in the light, Arborion." Haldir stepped behind her and saw the very young Elf, truly still an Elfling beginning to sink. Bronwyn looked up and he saw the tears dripping from her face.

"Boraermin." He knelt down, into the slime and taking her face into his hands, he thumbed her tears away. "You cannot do this. This is unfair of them to ask it of you. It is unfair to you, to our babe. Please cease."

"Almost. Haldir, please."

His sigh rent the air. He looked back towards where they had come from and could see the small form of Heridil lagging behind. He turned to the twins. Their misery had gotten to them several hours ago and Haldir could not remember seeing them ever being so tortured, so silent, even when their mother had been attacked long ago. They took turns holding the other while they quietly grieved the giant losses to their kind. None of the survivors had wished to discuss the atrocities that had taken place in the wretched place and now, they knew why.

Bronwyn moved aimlessly through the mire. At one point, she stopped, squinting closely at the murky water and shaking her head, as if to clear it from an unwanted guise. Haldir went to her and for the blink of an eye saw a black visage and then saw nothing. She moved on. Eventually, she sunk to her knees again, in front of another body of a fallen Elven Warrior.

They watched Bronwyn put her hands into the putrid pool of water.

"Palantil of Doriath. He left a son, a baby, Herid- - -" Her hands jerked from the water. Her eyes searched for straggling Elf. "Oh no. Oh no. I am so sorry."

Haldir walked behind her, his hand on her now bowing head and saw the body lying in the water. Her shoulders shook in grief and soft keening could be heard.

Heridil resembled his father.

Haldir looked at Elrond's sons. "Stay with her." His voice brooked no disobedience, as he made his way, gingerly through the mud. Heridil stood, rooted to his spot, his eyes on his feet, constantly moving them, as not to allow them to sink far.

"Come with me to the horses." Their mounts and supplies were at the edge of the Marsh, within sight of them.

"She is done?" Heridil's voice was monotone, lifeless.

"She has found your father." Haldir saw the Elf's shoulder rise with the sudden intake of breath. He allowed the information to sink into his most trusted soldier, next to his brothers.

"You are sure?" Haldir nodded his head. Heridil exhaled loudly and his shoulders drooped.

"Is it... is he... does he look..."

"He is in one piece. I saw no marks on his body." Haldir reached into a pack and pulled out towel. "You look like your father."

"Ada." The voice was whispered, longing. Haldir's heart lurched at the sound. He well remembered the death of his parents, the responsibility of his brothers falling on his young shoulders. But at least he remembered them. Remember their playful jibes, remembered their arguments. He remembered his mother's hugs, his father's gentle guidance.

Heridil had no such memories.

"Would you..."

"Take me." Grey eyes implored into eyes of one of the few Elves Heridil openly admired. "Please, take me to him."

For a long time, the three Elves stood back while Heridil knelt in the mud, next to Bronwyn, who after wiping her hands, put her arms around the waist of the grieving Elf, who told his father of his life, of his mother, of his accomplishments, of his friends.

When he finished, he told his father to go seek the light and without prompting from Bronwyn, the body sank from sight.

***

They were attacked three nights later, just as they had made camp and before they had lit the fire. The sun was barely down and while the Elves had been expecting it since leaving the Marshes, Bronwyn was caught off guard. Her knives were out, but she could not see and all she could hear were the sounds of battle. She was afraid to use her knives or her soundwaves as she had no idea who was what. She knew Haldir stayed within arms reach of her and that she was protected. Although she knew the skirmish did not last long, it seemed to last forever to her. When the sounds died down, she finished lighting the fire and waited anxiously for the four Elves to come close. All had sustained minor injuries and the twins passed around special healing potions for the poisons the Orcs used. Heridil allowed Bronwyn to clean his cuts and wounds, his eyes boring in Haldir's.

"The twins. They are insane! I have never seen anyone attack like that."

"They are the best at what they do. They are the fiercest warriors I know." Haldir was inspecting Heridil's wounds as well, checking for poisons, checking for things unseen.

Bronwyn could not believe the merciless soldiers sitting across from her, inspecting the other for hurts, were the same laughing Elves who startled her so on their first meeting five months previously. It worried her that they could change personalities so quickly. Haldir had told her what had happened to their mother Celebrian, Galadriel and Celeborn's only child. It was heartbreaking. And that the twins made it their life's mission to rid the world of every Orc they could lay their hands on, was an awesome responsibility.

Three days later, after skirting the Dead Marshes, they came to the Black Gate. It stood ajar, wind and dust blowing idly through it, as if left open in the rush of things exiting the mountains in masse. On horseback, they followed the trail to Baradur.

***

Ave Maria, gratia plena
Dominus tecum
benedicta tu in melieribus
et benedictus fructus ventris tui

Josquin: Ave Maria

***

The fire crackled in the fireplace of the dark room, the woman curled in an old decrepit chair. Scrolls and parchments were stacked haphazardly around the dank room and she squinted in the feeble light. Her lungs were scratchy, as she breathed in the rank, foul air. She shook her head in sorrow upon reading the words on the scroll and her free hand curled around her abdomen, as if to protect the life growing within her. As if knowing what she read was evil, the child punched her harshly.

Across from her, on a box, sat Heridil. He watched as her hand drooped and she rubbed her eyes in fatigue.

"That one, as well, Bronwyn?" She nodded weakly and handed him the parchment.

He threw it into the fire and the two watched as the flames licked greedily at the edges.

"What was that?" the Elf stood up and fetched another scroll to hand her for her perusal.

"Apparently, Sauron knew where the Balrogs hide. Now I know." She inhaled deeply and began to cough, the dust mites and the ash from the fire, irritating her lungs.

"Bronwyn. Perhaps you should take a break?"

She never looked up from her reading. "Heridil. You sound like my husband!"

"Good!" He still stood and he did his best Haldir imitation, standing sternly with his arms crossed over his chest. She looked up at him sardonically.

"Trust me, my friend. That was NOT a compliment!" Her attention returned to the scroll in her hand. Heridil, in retaliation, dumped a stack of parchment on the table next to her and stormed out of the room. Bronwyn watched her friend flee from her presence and rolled her eyes in displeasure. "Over-protective Elves!" she muttered to herself.

They had had to clear the fortress of Orcs and other things. It had taken the better part of the day, and Bronwyn, much to the consternation of her husband, had joined in the fight, using knives and music. To say the twins were awed by her power and skill was an understatement; they had stood at her side, cheering her on. Their lust for battle, their enjoyment of it, alarmed her to her inner, hidden soul. She and Haldir worked together as a team, but Elladan and Elrohir fought as one, dark braids swinging in tandem. They were devastating, a well-oiled machine. She had heard stories of how they were one soul, split in two, how they had clung to each other in the womb, making their delivery almost impossible, but she had not expected to see this. Even after six months of occupation, they still had to fight off Orcs and men from the east to keep the tenuous toehold in the fortress, although as time went on, the attacks became less and less frequent.

Much to Haldir's alarm, Bronwyn had been right: the fortress was crumbling around their very ears. Leaving one to guard and watch the perimeters of the fortress, one to watch and aid her and two to search the fortress, search the rooms for anything she might find worthy of her attention. There were days when she wandered the cavernous halls herself, pointing out things to have brought to her, or sometimes sitting where things were piled, in order to inspect them.

They found machines, torturous devices, many with blood, black tar, smeared in the manacles, the gears. She laid hands on each and every one, seeing the victims.


"Shire! Baggins!"


Everything, once examined, once read, was burned, destroyed. Late one night, lying on a bed of old straw and blankets, Haldir asked her, his hand caressing her bulging stomach.

"Why do you burn them, Baraermin? You, who value, prize knowledge so? Why do you burn the scrolls, the parchment?"

Her felt her snort in derision. "Do you truly wish to know what it is I burn Haldir?" Her hand lay atop his. "They are the writings of a madman, of insanity personified!" Bronwyn's hand slid up his arm and she awkwardly rolled into him, her hand now grasping at his shoulder. "The plans to build these machines of torture; how to torture an Elf, in order to turn him into an Orc; lists of... women. Haldir, they stole women and used them to breed... oh God, Haldir!" Even in the dark, he could see her tears. "I hate seeing knowledge lost, but this does not need to fall into the wrong hands. After trying to burn the battlements, this was the only compromise I could think of!"

The battlements. Oh, that had been a sore spot. Haldir had come into the room she had currently been occupying, to see her sitting in front of the fire, aimlessly throwing paper into it. He saw the lines, the formations of the sheet she was preparing to toss.

"What is that, Baraer?" Haldir could sense her agitation and he gently removed the document from her hands.

"I don't know!" she whined, petulantly. "I can't make heads or tails of it!"

"Show me." Between the two, he spread the map between their laps and she translated the abhorrent language into Sindarian. He closed in eyes in fear of what had been lost.

"How many of the pages like these have you burned?" He looked into the fire, seeing the charred remnants of several journals.

"Several. Not a bunch." She cocked her head to the side. "Why?"

He laid the sheet to the side. "Do not burn anything else you do not understand. Please ask me." He could see her questioning his statement. "Baraer. These are battle plans. Plans on protecting Mordor's borders, plans on occupying Gondor. Plans for..."

"Oh dear. This is an insight to how he thought, how his armies moved and I've been burning them like there is no tomorrow." She looked around in dejection. "Oh, Haldir, what have I done?"

He patted her hand, in attempt to calm her."You made a mistake. You could not help it." He leaned in towards her. "You are not a general, not a warrior. But I am." His arms went around her and he pulled her close. "Let me help. This burden is so much for you to bear. Please, let me help."

And so, Haldir began to peruse unexplainable documents for her.

But for now, she sat alone, papers floating from where Heridil had angrily dumped them and she coughed in the dust. As she finished a page, she wadded it up and threw it into the fire. She realized after several shots, she had company.

"Hello, my love."

Haldir stood in the doorway, arms across his chest. His legendary scowl in place.

"You have angered Heridil."

Her eyebrow raised in mock salute and she rolled her eyes. "He will get over it." She heard him exhale.

"Heridil says you are coughing."

"Well, you know the room is a mite dusty!"

One minute, he was in the doorway, the next, he was next to her, stroking her ear lobe. "The sun is setting and you have not seen it today. Please, come outdoors, just for a few moments."

"And see what? The desert? The dirt?" She threw another wad at the fire and cheered her slam dunk! "I saw that yesterday. And the day before yesterday. And the day before... and the day before... and the day before..." her finger and head wagged back and forth in rhythm with the word ‘and'.

"It is dinner time, my love. Please join me." He held his hand out towards her. "We have a lovely array of lembas bread!" She gagged mockingly and quickly picked up an errant scroll and pleaded in her most enticing voice.

"Can I finish this one, please? Can I? Can I?"

"Please. Tarry no longer. Do not make me carry you out into the keep." He removed the scroll from her hand and laid it back on the table. His hand was extended again.

Bronwyn scowled and laid her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She was quite large, being well into her tenth month of pregnancy.

"You could not carry me anywhere even if you tried!" She turned and looked at her backside. "I swear, one could land a small Cessna on my rear end, it is so large!" She sniffed disdainfully.

Haldir snorted once mirth. "I do not know what a small Cessna is, but I am rather fond of that large rear end!" Grabbing her by it, he pulled her in as close as possible and kissed her, his tongue grazing leisurely across her lips. His forehead touched hers and his other hand caressed her over-extended belly. "You must hurry with this, Baraermin. Your time draws nearer and I will not have my daughter born in this forsaken place."

"Your son is no where ready to be born, look how high he sits!" Bronwyn laughed, heading for the doorway. "Do not worry. He will be born in a large, comfortable bed in the White City, I promise you!" The two headed out the door.

Later that night, after rubbing the soreness from her back, Haldir rolled her over in the beginnings of love-play. When he went to nibble at her breast, he received a shock of warm, sweet liquid. He put his foot down at that very moment and grabbing leggings, issued an order to the three Elves in the next room, one she dared not disobey.

The next day, they packed, stored what scrolls, parchments had not been read. The twins searched the stables for a useable wagon to cart the bags and Bronwyn in and within three days they left Baradur, setting fire to the insides, and headed back towards Gondor.

***
tbc
***

Translation for Agnus Dei I

O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world
Have mercy upon us


Translation for Tritis est...


My soul is very sorrowful, even unto death
remain here, and watch with me
now ye will see the multitude that will surround me
ye will take flight
and I shall go to be sacrificed for you.

Translation for Ave Maria...

Hail, Mary, full of grace
the Lord is with thee
blessed art thou among women
and blessed the fruit of thy womb...

Baraer - Fiery One
Baraermin - My Fiery One
Heru en Cormmin - Lord of my Heart

A/N

First off - yes, I realize I am being VERY cocky by posting Latin lyrics and waiting till the end to provide translations. My betas and I had a long talk about this and they agreed with me that the Latin was beautiful and VERY appropriate considering the mood and the scenery. I did not want to ruin or convulute that by posting in English (YRCH! Sorry - the musical purist in me) or by posting the translation with it (Too much)

Second - lady oflegolas, Ivy, Anna, Cherian, Panneth, Sheriaih, telemar, nad lkcush - thank you for the very kind and positive thoughts! I wanted to add- I have posted 3 MisAdventures of Hal and Bronwyn - Payback is hell,which takes place during chapter 12, Weed Dreams which takes place during chapter 22 (which no isn't published yet) and Fortress around my heart - which takes place during chapter 15. These are typically challenges or rabid bunnies that don't fit within the story arc of Empty Vessel. I am fond of them however and hope you and others will check them out.

I am writing chappy 22 as you read. I am also working on the sequel to Empty Vessel, which is a cross over in Harry Potter's Realm. I will let all know when that one will start.

Thanks again!
Zee