Tel\' Lindar (The Bard)

Okay - you SHOULD know the name of this bad boy - if not, see subject line -and what it\'s rated! You know who I am, you know who I ain\'t! You know what I take credit for and what I cain\'t. You know who my betas are- - -If any of this is news to you - see Prologue in the files!

Questions? Please ask.

Discrepancies? Tell me - I tend to write LATE at night!

Feedback - You know how to give it! It is my bread, my water, the air I breathe!


Chapter 3

Too much information - or - You speak-a my language?

***
She came down
From the mountain
And I stood my ground
On the mountain

Tonic - Mountain

***


The Voyeur stood in a forest. The trees were huge, larger than anything he had ever seen in his life and the leaves were of a golden hue he had never before beheld. He could feel a cool wind blowing through his hair.

A cool wind that carried angry voices.

Silently, he made his way to a clearing. There he saw a contingency of Elven archers, arrows drawn, surrounding nine companions. Three men, four small child-like creatures, a battle Dwarf, another Elf.

One of the Men was on his knees, retching, puking his very guts onto the forest floor. A second man stood behind him, clutching the filthy, stinking warrior, for he was dressed as such, by the hair of the head, holding him up. The Elves stood around, contemplating, discussing. One Elf, the one who seem to be in charge, strode in front of the ill man and with the edge of his bow, tipped a drooling chin up in order to get a better look. The Voyeur heard and understood his words clearly.

\"A beardless boy. A child playing adult games.\"

It was the big Elf. His tone, his countenance radiated controlled fury and arrogance.

The Voyeur watched and followed in silence, observed as the Elves carried the youth to their city, an island of trees, rising from the forest floor. He watched as they entered the city, as a woman - a she-Elf - came and inspected the young warrior. She was the most beautiful creature the Voyeur had ever seen; tall, lithe, with long, wavy golden hair, hanging to her hips. Her voice, a deep contralto, was as ancient as the shadows in the woods.

\"The warrior is in your keeping. The warrior is your responsibility.\"

The big Elf stood next to him, his words ringing in the Voyeur\'s ears.

\"My responsibility? I do not think so.\"

In the blink of an eye, they were in a room, a home. The big Elf and two others had the warrior on a floor, undressing him.

Wait.

This was no boy.

It was She. Tel\' Lindar.

Her chest, her ribs had been bound, her clothing had been padded to hide emancipated, underfed curves.

\"Look how they brought her to me!\" The scene had changed again. Now it was just the big Elf and the woman he had placed on a table, her private parts carefully covered with sheets. The Voyeur could see the bruises at her ribs. The room was gently lit by candles and the big Elf was moving around the table, carefully bathing the filth and grime from her body. Her hair lay in wet clumps, dripping muddy suds unheeded on the floor.

\"Look how they brought her to me!\" The Elf repeated it, spat it in anger . The Voyeur looked at the dream’s narrator, the Elf motioning at the scene in disgust. \"Broken in body; broken and cracked ribs. Broken in spirit; she could not remember who she was, where she was from. She grieved her losses so, she dared not try to remember. She was underfed, underweight. She begged for death.\" Her skin was pale, translucent and he could see the signs of lack of proper food showing on what parts of her body were exposed.

\"She was in no better shape when they brought her to me.\" The Elf looked at him quietly. It was the first time the Voyeur had tried to speak, tried to converse.

\"Aye. True. Although, you do not have to heal her body. That was the easiest to mend.\" The Elf reached behind his head and tugged fiercely at the intricate braid hanging down his back.

\"Heal her? I am no medi-witch, no healer!\"

An elegant, Elven eyebrow raised high and he snorted. \"Neither was I.\" They watched the Elf in the scene for several minutes, walk around her, tenderly washing, bathing, gently rubbing salves on her ribs. The Voyeur noticed how he took great care to preserve her modesty.

\"You must tend to her.\"

The Voyeur rolled his eyes in exasperation. \"I am no healer,
no-\"

\"Her bereavement runs deep. She is not allowed to grieve, not allowed to drain the infection of the wound caused by her sorrow. They think to protect her, when in reality they are protecting themselves as they cannot stand to see her in pain. Her grief stagnates, clouds her vision. She refuses to eat. You must lance her anguish, allow her, make her siphon the contamination, the very pus, of her desolation. She must eat! She must grieve. Please help her. She is my treasure, my heart, my most precious jewel.\"

And as the Voyeur was flung through the dark tunnel that would drop him in his bed, he heard the words of the beautiful she-Elf;

\"The warrior is in your keeping. The warrior is your responsibility.\"

Reservo vester ipse. Adiumentum mea reservo tu.

Save yourself. Help me save you.

***

The Wizard and the Elf moved swiftly through the passageways of the castle, the dark one\'s robes billowing out behind him like wings. No sound was heard in their passing, the very air seemed to part as if cut by scissors, as they flowed through the lyceum.

Celeborn allowed himself to look long and hard at the Potions Master as they walked quickly through the corridors. He took in the condescending demeanor, the way he held himself. Tel\' Lindar was a head strong woman yet Snape...

Snape was going to be difficult.

He did not know who deserved his sympathy more, Bronwyn or her new Guardian.

\"I wish to apologize for the misunderstanding between you and Bronwyn. Had she not been so distressed, she would not have struck you.\"

Severus never slowed. \"I will not accept an apology from you for her actions. They are hers and hers alone.\"

\"Surely, you understand, this has been very difficult for her.\"


\"Spare me the pity party.\"

Celeborn took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. \"I am sure you have many questions. About her. About who she is.\"

\"No.\" Snape stopped in front of an alcove, with a huge statue of a gargoyle sitting within its interior. He motioned for Celeborn to step inside. \"Licorice. Black.\" As the statue spun and stairs moved upwards, he strode in behind the Elf and placed his hand on the breast of the monument. \"Rather, you have answers explaining why I have been saddled with such a termagant.\"

***

I\'m the man in the box
Buried in my shit
Won\'t you come and save me
Save me

Alice in Chains
Hair of the Dog

***

It had all the makings of a cozy get-together: four chairs in a closely-knit grouping, tea and cakes being served by a floating tea pot and a gracious host. Dumbledore and Gandalf sat, calm, cool. Celeborn stood behind his chair, his knuckles white across the backs of the joints.

Snape stood off to the side, seeming to peruse the tomes in the bookcases. Black eyes glittered at the spines, his thoughts...

\"Who is she?\"

Gandalf started to answer. \"She is Bronwyn Mor-\"

\"I know that!\" He snapped angrily, looking over his shoulder to the group. \"Who is she? Perhaps I ask the wrong question. What is she?\" Gandalf started to speak, only to be interrupted again. \"And do not give me her titles. Bard of this, Keeper of that. She has spouted them off to me already.\" He accepted a cup of tea from the pot and took a sip. Damn, if Dumbledore\'s tea wasn\'t always brewed perfectly. \"What is she? Where did she come from?\"

The two elderly Wizards and Elf sighed deeply, looking at each other. Celeborn began.

\"Tithen Aras...\"

\"What does that mean?\" Severus never looked up from his tea cup, alternating between sipping and staring deep into the depths of the dark liquid.

\"It means \'little dear\'. \"

The dark wizard snorted into his tea cup. \"Aye. Very dear!\"

\"She can be.\"

Severus barked an insincere laugh and turned the cheek, her reddened hand print still clearly outlined. \"Forgive me if I do not agree with you.\"

Celeborn stormed around the chair. \"Say what you will, think what you will, but I saw two delicate wrists bruised by large hands. I will not tolerate your mistreatment of her!\" Both Elf and Wizard, stood poised for battle, the light, bristling in indignation, the dark, seemingly relaxed, yet coiled to strike.

\"Gentlemen.\" Albus\' voice was clear, a voice of authority. Celeborn turned in disgust and returned to his chair, sitting in it this time. He also accepted tea, choosing instead to just stare into the gloom of the fluid.

\"Bronwyn is unique among the race of Man.\" Gandalf had chosen to speak this time. \"She is a truly extraordinary individual; the only one of her kind. She was born and raised specifically to do what she does.\"

\"And what, pray tell, does she do?\"

Silence. Complete and utter silence for many moments. Then Gandalf\'s voice...

\"She is Earth\'s Historian - wait -\" he held up his hand to Severus\' question. \"Over the millennia, Man has risen only to fall again and again.. Always, someone has been there to help them rebuild, regain what they lost. It was foreseen that Man would one more time rise to greatness, only to fall in on himself, destroying the world as it is now. In the process, all knowledge, all art, all music, all past experiences, would be lost, decimated and nothing would be left but the shell of brute humanity.

\"It was decided by Iluvatar - God, if you will - to create a vessel, a Bard, one who would hold all the history, all the knowledge of the Earth and would be able to show it physically to those remaining, in order to help them rebuild. The First Born - the Elves would be sent with this historian, to aid in this reconstruction effort. While the Vessel was part of the Elves world, she is truly of Man’s.\"

Celeborn picked up where Gandalf left off. \"Bronwyn was plucked from this world, this age and sent back to the time of Middle Earth. The Valar removed her at a great cost to her sanity - her parents had died, her husband - \" he sneered at the word, \"had betrayed her horribly and had been killed. All she had was her young son, Duncan.\"

It was quiet for a moment while Celeborn studied the dregs of his tea. Gandalf continued for him.

\"Duncan was very ill from the moment he was born. He was her world. He died young and within days of his death, Tari, one of the Valar, personally plucked her from this world and dropped her into ours.\"

\"Dropped her into hell!\" Celeborn muttered.

\"And...\" Severus spun his fingers in a perpendicular circle, as if to move them on, speed them up, \"... how does this pertain to now?\" His headache was beginning to rage yet again.

Gandalf\'s litany was almost a gentle rant.

\"Imagine reading every book that ever existed and being able to repeat back word for word at will. Imagine knowing how to play every instrument ever created and being able to play every song ever written. Imagine speaking every language, dead or alive. Bronwyn spent 120 years collecting the history of Middle Earth. Three ages of history.\"

\"At the same time, all of the history of the Fourth Age to now was unceremoniously dumped into her head. 38,000 years of history to be exact. All of the history that was predominantly known to Man.\" The stress on the word \'Man\' was very noticeable.

\"When that time was up, she left for the Undying Lands, home of the Elves, with her husband, Haldir, and one of her children in tow. She left behind two children, Beckett and Anselm. From these children came the Great Storytellers of the Ages, from this line came the Druids, the Bards, the Historians. From Anselm came the musicians, the artisans. Beckett\'s line was charged keeping her bow. Like the Levites, the Jewish tribe of priests, Beckett\'s descendants kept the history, guided Man. \"

\"Yes, yes, I know all about the bow.\" Severus\' hand waved dismissively as the mobile tea pot refilled his cup. \"She has made its importance quite clear.\" He sipped slowly, flicking his fingers impatiently. \"Continue.\"

Celeborn\'s jaw ticked. Never had anyone acted, responded to her in such a callous, unfeeling manner. That they were forced to leave her in his hands...

\"You are familiar with the state of the world we found upon our return?\" Gandalf\'s voice was clear.

\"Truthfully, I was not paying attention. I had my own problems to deal with rather than to worry about Muggles.\"

Celeborn\'s temper raged at the insensitivity of the comment. He stormed out of his seat, glaring down at the Dark Wizard.

\"You should have paid attention. It is because of your world\'s serious lack of communication with Man, or Muggles, as you call them, and the fact you had your heads so far up your collective asses that she... we came back early! It is due to your world\'s short-sightedness that Haldir was lost; that her bow fell into the wrong hands.\"

The bone china cup was thrown to the carpet as Severus stood up. \"You will NOT blame me, blame us, for her loss...\"

\"I will! Bronwyn is a seer. She saw what would happen if we did not come back early.\"

Fingers folded in on pristine white cuffs as Snape coiled himself inward. \'He is so very much the serpent.\' Gandalf thought to himself. \'He pulls in tightly, ready to strike when it is least expected.\' He stood and placed a hand on Celeborn\'s shoulder. \"Mellon, pray sit. Your heart is too close to Bronwyn, was too close to Haldir, to think without prejudice. Your love for the two of them blinds you to the task at hand.\" The Elf returned to his seat, scowling.

Snape never moved as he took in the scene; an angry Elf Lord, a placating Istari, a silent Wizard. He turned his attention to Dumbledore.

\"A Seer? Perhaps I am the wrong wizard for this outing. I would suggest instead Professor Trelawney.\" Snape\'s tone was mocking.

\"Severus. Sit down.\" Albus motioned for him to do so and looked at Snape over half-moon glasses. \"Bronwyn was never informed, never knew of our world that we kept so secret and apart from the Muggles. When she was finally allowed to see us, she saw we would be victorious over Voldemort. She then returned her attentions back to the tribulations of Man.

\"However, she soon realized that things had escalated to a breaking point; the point she was waiting for, the point she had been told to look for. When she took in the entire scope again, she saw something she did not wish to see.

\"She saw the total annihilation of the Wizards, of our world. All of us. We were so caught up in Voldemort and the after effects, that we would not, had not paid attention to what was happening outside our sphere.

\"Had the Muggle world gone to war - nuclear war - none of us, the Wizarding world, would have survived. We owe her our lives.\"

The silence was deafening. Another china cup floated to Severus and the pot refilled it.

\"Bronwyn was given a choice, by the Valar. It was her decision to return early. It was her decision to attempt to stop what had been decreed. It was her decision to save YOUR world.\" Celeborn\'s voice was shaken, as if holding back tears. \"But the price she paid has been enormous.\"

\"Because we returned early, certain... events took place that had not been decreed to happen. Events she had not foreseen would happen. Events that cost her her husband\'s life. Cost her her descendant\'s life.

\"In order to save your world, Stuart Barrow-Smythe innocently died in the crossfire of a drug-deal gone bad and her bow, her earthly seat of power, disappeared into your world. In order to save your world, an angry sniper missed his target and killed Haldir of Lothlórien instead. In order to save your world, her world was destroyed.

\"She knows this.\" Tears now ran freely, unchecked down Celeborn\'s face. \"She knows that her decision to return early to save your world cost her hers. Haldir was my foster-son. He was dear to me. She was beloved by him and so is also dear to me. This is now the second time her world was exterminated in order to save this one. She has had enough.\" He paused in thought, taking a deep breath before continuing.

\"She is not an Elf; she cannot return to the Undying Lands, to her home, her family. Haldir was her passport to the Undying Lands. Her charmed life has been taken away. She is now mortal. She is bereft, yet has been given an opportunity to find new life, to finish the task set out for her by the Valar.

\"Except she refuses it. She does not eat...\"

\"I noticed.\"

\"She does not sleep willingly. She does not rest. I worry for her. She grieves and grieves deeply.\"

Severus continued to examine the residue of his tea cup, saw the tea leaves in the bottom. He squinted. What would Trelawney make of this?

\"I take it,\" he intoned, \"that no one knows why she is truly here? That no one knows my true purpose?\"

Albus leaned forward, removing the cup from Snape\'s hands, forcing black eyes to look directly into the elderly headmaster\'s. \"The members of the faculty and staff know that Bronwyn is in grave danger in the Muggle world and that you have been chosen to be her new protector. They know she has been specifically placed to teach our children in order to give her a purpose, a meaning for life. They know she has a task and you have been chosen to help her with it. They do not know about her bow, nor about the help you will give her in finding it.\"

\"So I am to babysit her while she plays at being teacher?\" He leaned backed, hands tucked into pristine coat sleeves.. \"Am I to plan her lessons as well?\"

\"You condescending...\" Gandalf\'s voice was raised and he seemed to grow in stature, the beams and stone groaning in agony, the room darkening. \"Never in my life have I encountered such as you!\" His knuckles turned white around his staff, he grasped it so hard. \"Never have I questioned Iluvatar or the Valar, but right this moment, I must wonder at their judgment!\"

\"Bronwyn could hear the wind, the animals, the trees speak as a child. She played seven instruments including piano and cello by age 10. She received advanced degrees in music, Celtic studies, Folklore, Anthropology and History before she was 35. She is a gifted storyteller and taught children, as well as our Elflings... BAH!\" The tall Istari shook in frustration. \"Why bother? She is the teacher of all teachers, you fool!\" As suddenly as it had begun, the lighting returned to normal and the White Wizard stood normal once more.

Again, silence enveloped the room. Severus had leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His head was threatening to explode and he stroked the temples, attempting to will the pain away.

\"She could help with your headache. Ease it.\" Celeborn\'s voice was deceptively gentle.

\"No.\"

Fawlkes was cawing quietly in the corner. Snape could see the bird was beginning to molt and knew that soon, the phoenix would catch fire and be reborn.

Reservo vester ipse. Adiumentum mea reservo tu.

But who was supposed to save who?

***

After Severus\' had excused himself to bring Bronwyn to dinner, Albus stared deeply into Snape\'s abandoned tea cup, looking at the tea leaves in the bottom. He tsked under his breath and gave a slight smile. Trelawney WOULD have a field day with this one...


***

Snape removed the wards he had placed on her doors. He found Rumil snickering over whatever antics were going on in the book he was reading, while she slept peacefully on. Amadeus was on the bed, curled and molded to her back. Neither wolf nor Elf acknowledged Snape\'s coming or looked up to greet him, so silent were his footfalls. He reached the bed, yanking back the covers, throwing them over the four legged beast and pulled her to her feet by the front of her tunic, in one graceful swoop.

\"Wake up.\"

And she did. Rather quickly; her hands reaching for anything solid to steady herself.

\"What?\" she spun, grabbing for anything, the air, and connected with his outstretched arm. Deceptively strong fingers gripped him. Her sight latched onto Snape\'s face. \"Oh Merde! I thought I was having a nightmare within a nightmare!\" She released him and stepped back, rubbing her eyes and yawning. \"Rumil, put me back to sleep!\"

\"No. You have rested enough.\" The encounter with fiery brown embers smouldering into the depths of his inky pools, produced steaming friction not lost on the Elf. Rumil\'s protective hand went to her shoulder.

\"Why have you come? What do you wish?\" Rumil had a melodious voice and his question flowed like a river.

\"It is time for dinner.\" Severus took in her tousled hair, sleep-filled eyes, long legs on a deceptively short body...

Not sleep-filled eyes.

Mutinous eyes.

\"I am not hungry.\" Bronwyn began to crawl back into the bed.

He grabbed her by the back her tunic.

\"Madam, you have not eaten in three days. I will not watch you waste away to nothing. If you wish to starve, go elsewhere.\"

She snorted through her nose at that comment. \"Oh right, like I could go anywhere! You know as well as I, that I am no better than a prisoner...\" Snape held up his hand to cut-off her outburst, his authoritative voice, stern with displeasure.

\"You have five minutes to dress into something more appropriate for mixed company. If you do not, I will drag you to the Great Hall as is and you may explain your lack of decorum to them.\" This was a voice that brooked no argument, a voice used with wary first-years, disobedient houses. He stormed down the stairs, robes billowing behind him.

\"Bronwyn.\" Rumil whispered in Elvish. \"I think he means it. Perhaps you should give in a little...\"

\"Oh, I\'ll dress,\" her voice was like metal dragged across stone, \"I\'ll dress. But there is an old saying, mellon. You can lead a horse to water, but you can\'t make him drink!\"

Amadeus never growled, never voiced his opinion.

No one noticed.

***

Dinner was not the stilted affair she had feared it would be. Rather, it was a loud, robust occasion. The round table had been enlarged, to a accommodate the additional guests. Conversation between most of the company flowed freely. Celeborn had Minerva laughing at tales, antics of young Elflings pestering an indulgent Elven world. Rumil sat among Madams Pince and Hooch, congenial, charming.

Snape glared into his plate. Hooch was positively fawning over the Elf, preening under his gaze. And Madam Pince was worse. Even Sprout had leaned forward, trying to capture the attention of the smiling, beautiful, grey-eyed Elf.

Gah! It was a disgusting display of female hormones!

Albus and Gandalf watched the Potions Master and the Bard. Severus had come in with a bundle of parchment, much to the gentle ribbing of his fellow professors, and had stacked it neatly to the side at an empty place setting. Bronwyn sat to his left, framed on the other side by Remus Lupin. She all but ignored her assigned Guardian.

The Bard was deep in conversation with Remus, the gentle rise and fall of her voice punctuated by his laughter.

She had not touched a bite.

Occasionally, she would pick up a utensil, push the food around her plate, as if to spear a morsel, and then lay it down to say something. It was a good show.

He did notice she did not feed the wolf from the table. Amadeus lay beneath her chair, watching... Snape.

Wizard eyes met canine\'s. \'You had best not hinder me.\' Snape thought to himself. \'I will turn you into a rug for my living area, make no doubt about that.\'

The wolf raised an eyebrow, as if he had heard and understood what was in Severus\' mind.

She laughed.

Severus\' was shocked by the gentleness of it, how his body reacted to the sound. It drizzled, tingled down his spine like a snowball thrust down one\'s shirt by a playful friend...

Where the hell had that come from?
He growled to himself and continued with his meal, noticing that the others had finished. Gandalf and Celeborn were starting their goodbye. The Express would be leaving soon and they must be on it. Rumil, they had been informed during dinner, would be staying for several weeks, so as not to allow Bronwyn to feel abandoned.

Her plate remained full. She had not touched a bite.

Quietly, Severus removed his wand from his sleeve and pointing at her chair, whispered \"Resideo\"

Bronwyn felt a slight tingle in her seat, but paid it scant attention. This was the longest she had sat in quite some time and more than likely, her rear end had fallen asleep. She saw Gandalf and Celeborn rising, preparing their departure and her heart leapt to her throat.

They were truly going to leave her.

Yes, Rumil was staying behind, but since the moment Haldir\'s death had become Elven knowledge, Celeborn and Gandalf had been by her side. Elrond had come many times, attempting to heal as only he could, to help her work through her grief. It had been he who suggested that she look in Galadriel\'s mirror, to see where her destiny lay. She had hated him for that at the time. She was still angry at him.

And now they were leaving and soon Rumil would too. Abandoning her with...him. She looked sideways at the one the Valar had chosen for her. He would be difficult to get around. But she would figure out a way to deal with him...

He caught her staring at him. She did not look away in frustration or embarrassment. Two sets of calculating eyes sized the other up. Her attention returned to the departing Elf and Istari.

\"I will go with you to the train.\" She started to rise.

And could not.

She jerked up once, twice, only to find her bottom firmly attached to the seat of the chair. She looked at Severus, anger beginning to smolder. \"What have you done to my chair?\"

\"I have done nothing to your chair, Madam.” His attention reverted back to the paper in his hand. “I have, however, done something to your posterior!\"

She screeched, her fury exploding like a volcano. She railed at him in Italian and in mid-stream, reverted to Chinese, the melodic cadence of both languages, though unrelated, added extra punch to her tirade.


Albus stood slowly and leaned to Gandalf. \"I think my staff and I will leave you and Celeborn to your goodbyes with Bronwyn.\" and motioning to the others, quietly left. Celeborn, Gandalf, and Rumil were left to endure her protestations.

\"Son of a bitch...\"

She had finally reverted to English.

\"Leave my mother out of this.\" Snape had picked up a piece of parchment and was nonchalantly perusing it. His plate had disappeared and he sipped from a brandy snifter.

She reverted to another language. Both Elves and Istari leapt at her at the utter of the first word, crying out together...

\"NO!\"

Celeborn reached her first, hand over her mouth. \"Please, not the language of Mordor. Please. Saes. Anything but that.\"

Ancient blues eyes bore into hers. She whispered in Sindarian, the language of the Elves, \"He has pasted me to this chair. I cannot move. Please, make him release me.\" Tears welled up, the one thing she knew Celeborn could not abide, would cause him to do anything for her. \"Please. Do not leave me here. He does not wish this. I do not...\"

\"If wishes were honey drops, I would pass them out freely to you, you know that.\" he whispered back. His hands cupped her face and he thumbed the tears away. \"He is meant for you, for this purpose.\" He took a deep breath and his attention rose to Severus. \"Why have you imprisoned her to her chair?

Severus\' never looked up from his reading material. \"I have not imprisoned her. She can leave her seat anytime she likes. After she eats.\" For a moment, the silence was deafening.

\"How dare you...\"

\"Professor Powell!\" He enunciated each syllable, each consonant with precision. \"Your refusal to eat is damaging to your body and your mind. I cannot help you complete the task at hand if I must drag you about in a weakened state.\"

Enraged flaming orbs bore into his soul as she leaned over and grasped him by the arm. A flash of a black and white silent movie, jarred him backwards; A maniacally laughing lunatic, dressed in turn of the century clothes, manacled to a dead, decaying woman clothed in gossamer robes, dragging her through a dank hallway...

Snape yanked free of her and returned her infuriated gaze.

\"You will sit in that chair until you eat every bite on your plate, if it takes all night and into tomorrow!\" Each syllable was clearly enunciated and carefully placed. He snapped his rolled parchment. \"Gentlemen. Have a nice trip.\" and he dismissed them with a wave.

For a split second, Celeborn recalled a scene, a memory he had all but forgotten...

An angry Bronwyn, an equally angry Haldir, battle raging around her, around them, a battle that she had willing participated in, Haldir attempting to coax her into the forest wherein abided giant spiders. She had dug in her heels, refusing to move - she hated spiders - when Haldir had picked her up and slung her over a shoulder, carrying her deep into Mirkwood.

To Smut, the Dragon.

To Tari, to the bestowing of her complete powers, to the fulfillment of her destiny.

And she had kicked and screamed and protested the entire way.

He simply carried her over his shoulder.

This wizard was carrying her over his shoulder, into places she did not desire, but was destined to go...

Celeborn smiled, a knowing smile and kissed her gently. \"You shall be fine, Tithen aras. We have not abandoned you, nor will we leave you in your lifetime. We will be here.\" He placed his forehead against hers and in Elvish he whispered...

\"Trust him.\"

***

They sat.

The Great Hall had been empty for hours, the food congealed on the plate. The house elves had come three times, to clean and tidy up yet Severus had run them off with dark looks and harsh words until they dared not come back.

She had ordered Amadeus to bite the Potions Master, but the wolf had simply crawled under Severus\' chair, sticking his nose out from under the abundant robes, whining softly.

\"Et tu, Brutus? Et tu?\"

Severus made no comment that her \'familiar\' had sided with him. He was right. He knew he was right. He had heavily weighed on what Gandalf had said to him before he had departed their little tete a tete to fetch her for dinner. He would be guided by Gandalf\'s words which had been whispered \'sotto voice\' as the Wizard had made way to fetch Bronwyn from her chambers earlier.

\"When Bronwyn\'s mind is focused, she will walk through a pit of vipers simply to reach the other side, just to better hear the song of the robin. She is not aware of the dangers or what she must walk through to reach her destination. She simply knows she must reach that point. She is not a strategist, does not plan. In short,\" the Istari had chuckled, \"she is a wretched chess player. You must fill that role for her and make sure she sees reason. At this moment, her mind is set on her grief. You must refocus her.\"

Snape watched quietly from the corner of his eye as she thumped her chair, bouncing around the hall, to come to rest at the wall, in order to peruse the hangings. He waited until she was settled before waving his wand again and flying her back to her spot in front of her plate.

The curses coming from her lips rained like a summer storm.

\"Your excellent command of the English language - and many others, I might add - quite frankly astounds me, woman.\" He never looked up from his reading.

Music welled, loud, screaming guitars...

\"Ah. Ozzy Osbourne. I liked him better with Black Sabbath.\"

Moments later, she attempted to read from his already-read pile.

He removed them from her reach.

\"Snarky, greasy git.\"

\"I have been called worse by my own students.\"

She was dumbfounded.

\"You allow them to disrespect you?\" It didn\'t seem to faze her that she herself had just called him those vile names. \"You know they call you names and you allow it?\"

\"Madam, I am not here to win a popularity contest. I teach a serious subject, a dangerous subject. I do not care what they call me, as long as they learn!\" He turned to another sheet of parchment, never looking at her. \"Any way, none of them are deranged to the point of saying these things to my face.\"

She gazed on him with wondering eyes. If you talk to them, treat them, as you talk and treat me, then aye, I imagine they call you a passel load of nasty things. And I bet, deep down, it hurts.

A clock from somewhere deep in the castle, chimed the hour.

11 P.M.

Severus never looked up from his stack. \"Madam, I have a cauldron simmering which must be stirred in thirty minutes. Therefore, if you wish to leave that chair tonight, you will have cleaned your plate in fifteen.

\"Do what?\"

He laid the parchment down and looked her deeply in the eyes. \"I am leaving in fifteen minutes as I have things to do and will not be returning until breakfast. If you do not wish to spend the night in that chair, I suggest you begin eating.\" His eyes never left hers, challenging, daring her to say anything.

\"Bite me!\"

His eyes scrutinized her body. \"A delectable offer, I am sure.\"

\"The food is cold. It is inedible.\" She turned away, nose pinched in distaste.

\"That is not my fault.\"

The minutes slowly ticked by.

\"Ten minutes, Madam.\"

\"Five minutes, Madam.\"

She picked up the fork.

And ate.

For the first time in over 38000 years, the Mighty Bronwyn acquiesced to defeat in a battle of wills.

She silently vowed revenge.

Snape knew she quietly pledged to pay him back for this insult/threat to her independence. And somewhere in the recesses of Snape\'s dark imaginings, he looked forward to the war.

***

Celeborn had decided he rather enjoyed these machines Man had invented for traveling around the world. Planes, trains and automobiles...

And motorcycles. He especially adored motorcycles.

Many millennia before, when Bronwyn was coming into her powers and the future was pouring into her brain, she could not control the images as they came forth, taking her and anyone near her down dubious paths and scenes.

She had taken him on a virtual motorcycle ride.

The first thing he had done, when things had settled upon their return was to purchase a pair of leather pants and a Harley.

His wife thought he was insane...

\"He will infuriate her. Anger her deeply.\"

Gandalf\'s voice interrupted Celeborn\'s reverie. \"Who will anger who?\"

Gandalf actually looked put out. \"You are thinking about that infernal motorcycle again!\" He rolled his eyes at the Elf. \"It will be the death of you! The Dark One - Snape! He will make Bronwyn very angry!\" The Istari leaned forward, long arms on his knees, his chin, braced on his fist. \"Would you pay attention?\"

\"Yes.\" Celeborn tapped a finger to pursed lips, while staring out the window at the darkening landscape. \"I imagine he will ... piss her off, quite thoroughly.\" An elegant eyebrow arched high in deep thought.

\"You think this will be a good thing?\"

Celeborn chuckled quietly. \"Haldir irritated her for quite some time before he reined her in.\" He looked to the ceiling of the car. \"Or did she rein him in?\" He waved his hand at his musings and inhaled deeply. \" \'Tis no matter. They were very enjoyable and amusing to watch!\" Celeborn drawled. \"These two.. they will annoy each other. They will clash and fight and Iluvatar knows what else. He will use her anger for him to get her mind over the grief, so she will complete the task set for her.\" An angelic smile lit his face. \"I suspect, she will eventually enjoy what is in store for her. So will he. I would if I were in his shoes.\"

\"Your wife is right! You are a perverted old Elf!\"

Celeborn\'s shoulders shook in mirth. \"True, mellonmin. Very true.\" He thought deeply for several moments. \"Bronwyn will seek out a mediator, an aide-de-camp, to speak.\"

\"You mean someone to run interference for her.\" the Istari snorted. \"Already, that one unconsciously seeks out her company. He will approach her through a common interest and will be able to replace Rumil very quickly.\"

\"Rumil has played mediator for her for so long. He will be lost when he is replaced. We will have to keep him very busy.\"

And Celeborn stared out the window in the darkness, remembering Haldir carrying her over his shoulder into destinies unknown.

\"I hope that Wizard has a good grip!\"

***

Deep in the night, she sat in leggings and tunic, in front of her door, eyes narrowed in fury. Amadeus sat next to her, whining while Rumil sat on the steps, watching helplessly. She put her hands towards the exit of her new home, only to feel the tingling, the electrical vibrations repelling her.

The wards Severus had placed to keep anyone from getting in to harm her, also kept her from leaving to roam. She found herself in the same, hated predicament.

Locked up.

Free from pursuit.

Hidden away.

Protected.

Restricted.

Safe-guarded.

Imprisoned.

Watched constantly.

Trapped.

Want out.

And while she contemplated the loss of freedom of movement, Severus lay in bed, tossing, turning with fast-paced nightmares of Voldemort, Orcs, bratty students, Uruk-hai, exploding dragons and flying, decapitated heads; Bronwyn was chasing them, chasing them all, laughing hysterically, while waving a strangely inscribed broadsword,

Even in sleep, his headache persisted, growing stronger.

***
tbc
***

mellon - friend
mellonmin - My friend

Artwork by Ningerbil