When Tarlanc returned, he instructed an apprehensive Elfhild to sit on a stool near the brazier, the brightest place in the room. Unfortunately, it was also the warmest, which would have been quite pleasant upon a winter day, but made her miserably hot in the sweltering heat of summer. The fact that she was still weak from the heat sickness made her feel even worse, and she began to feel nauseated. As sweat began to bead up on her forehead, she nervously played with her fingers. After locking the windows and doors of the cottage, the old miller was ready to begin removing the hated collars. He examined the band around Elfhild's neck, peering at it speculatively.

"Please be careful," Elfhild implored, quiet urgency in her voice.

"Of course, I am going to be careful! After all, I am not in the habit of killing little girls by stabbing them in the neck with files!" Tarlanc exclaimed irritably. "Brace yourself, lass!" He slowly began to file the metal, the noise sounding harsh and rasping in the still evening air. Closing her eyes, Elfhild held her breath as she felt the first of the tiny iron shavings hit her skin. Elffled cringed as she heard the disconcerting sound, fearing that at any moment the file might slip and drive into her sister's neck.

For the next half hour, Tarlanc worked in silence, the only sounds in the small hut that of the rasping file, Tarlanc's occasional coughing, the girls' breathing, and Haun's rumbling snores. Perspiration streaked his furrowed brow, and he wiped his face off with the back of his sleeve. The skin under his right eye twitched and jerked, and his jaw clenched and then relaxed when he considered that he had made some progress. Sawing the grooved side of the file into the iron, he forced the tool to grind deeper with every stroke. Elfhild began to feel like a horseshoe under the blacksmith's unyielding hammer, her skull and spine vibrating with every rasp. Wincing, she gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. The never-ending noise made her ears hum as though a hive of bees were buzzing inside her brain.

Finally the file stopped its constant sawing, and Elfhild felt the pressure on her neck shift and then lessen. "Ah, victory at last! I have cut through!" Tarlanc exclaimed as he set the file aside. Gripping both ends of the collar firmly, he pulled it apart and away from Elfhild's neck. "There you go, lass!" he exulted as he waved the collar in front of her face. "Never thought you would see that, did you? Not bad work for an old fellow, is it?"

"Oh, you did wonderfully! I am so glad that you rid me of that horrible thing!" Elfhild gingerly touched her neck, which was quite irritated from all the hammering and sawing. She was more concerned, though, about the pale white ring where the collar had shielded her neck from the sun – she would have to find some way to conceal the telltale circle.

"Oh, are you feeling gratitude now, lass?" Tarlanc chuckled slyly. "After that labor, I need a draught of wine and some time to rest my aching arm and back before filing off your sister's collar!" He gave her a broad grin, showing a mouth full of wide-spaced, large yellow teeth, and then fetched a bottle of wine and three cups from a nearby shelf. Pouring them all a cup of wine, he sank down at the table and gestured for the twins to join him. "You two girls have a long and dangerous journey ahead of you. I do not believe either of you said what you will do once you get to your destination."

"Well, I imagine that to the West there would be many refugees, people displaced from their homes by the war," Elfhild replied as she sipped from her cup. "It is my hope that we can find some of our kinfolk among them and take refuge with them."

"I certainly hope you find your relatives," Tarlanc remarked, and then a look of concern crossed his face. "You did not mention your mother or your father, lass."

Elfhild's features became sorrowful and she lowered her gaze. "Our mother was murdered by the orcs on the night we were captured. Our father was one of the many men in our village who answered the King's summons and rode away to war in the East." Her voice trembled with the tears she tried to hold back. "He... he fell upon the fields of Pelennor."

"These days there are few who die peacefully in their beds. So many have been killed by the devil-spawn of the Dark Land." The old miller shook his head sadly.

Elffled felt uncomfortable at the morose turn the conversation had taken, and decided to change the subject. "We have been traveling through this country for two days, and yours has been the only house we have seen that was not sacked by the raiders. If you do not mind me asking, sir, how did you come by such good fortune?"

"We know little of the war in Gondor," Elfhild remarked, trying to hide the fact that she had become teary-eyed after speaking of her parents. "Perhaps you could tell us of the conflict which transpired here in Anórien."

"I would guess that you girls are puzzled about me, who I am, and why I am the only one remaining in Ivrenlaer, which is the name of this town," Tarlanc chuckled good-naturedly. "Well, before I tell you why the enemy overlooked my home, I must first tell you about the war in this part of Gondor. Back on the 10th day of March, the Easterlings crossed the Anduin at Cair Andros. 'Twas a dreadful battle with the garrison on the island, and though our men put up a brave and noble battle against the invaders, they were overwhelmed. The fortress fell with a great loss of blood... I do not like to think upon it." As a deep look of sadness spread over his face, the old man's voice broke. Tears came to his eyes, and he impatiently wiped them away with his knuckles. When he had regained his composure, he continued speaking.

"Leaving behind a small force to occupy the island, the enemy commander and the bulk of his troops crossed the river to the west bank. There, he divided his forces into two bodies, sending one south to Minas Tirith and the other to guard the Great West Road against any incursion by the Rohirrim. This great host swept through the countryside, gobbling up everything as they came to it. This village lay in their path, but I suppose you could say that we were fortunate, for word came to us in time. Everyone fled, although they had to leave most of their possessions behind them... everyone, that is, except Haun and me."

"Tarlanc, sir," a curious Elfhild interjected, "please do not think it presumptuous of me to ask, but why did you stay?"

"Pig-headed cantankerousness, though some might call it stupidity. I prefer to think of it as determination and resolve. Lass, it is like this." Tarlanc took a sip of wine and rolled it in his mouth before swallowing it. "I was not going to let a bunch of worthless, no good, thieving scoundrels drive me away from the place where I was born or from the care of the lord's mill. Seeing as how I was the oldest man in the village, it just did not seem right to me to run away and leave it all."

The dim light of the lamp cast Tarlanc's deep set eyes into shadow, making him look ancient. "I am an old man, a widower, the father of three sons and one daughter, the last I know all of them living. Except for my youngest son, his wife, and two sons who lived here with me, my other children had their own cottages in the village, while my daughter and her husband lived in Minas Tirith. My youngest son would have inherited the right to run the mill and live in the cottage when I was gone. It was not as though I count for much anymore." He gave the girls a grin that spoke more of regret than it did of amusement.

"When we were sure that the enemy was coming, my sons and their families packed up everything. When they begged me to flee south to Minas Tirith with them, I refused. I am a stubborn man, you see. I told all of them to go, but I would remain."

"Oh, Tarlanc," Elffled exclaimed emphatically, "you should have gone with the others!"

"You were lucky to escape with your life!" Though Elfhild found Tarlanc to be an ill-tempered curmudgeon, still she felt sympathy for him and his village. "What did you do when the enemy host reached Ivrenlaer?"

Tarlanc wiped away the wine on his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now that is a story, I would like you to know! When a detachment of the enemy cavalry rode into the village, I was the only one left, and I was there waiting to meet them. What do you think they did when they saw me? They laughed at me! Think of that! They laughed at me as though I were the most ridiculous sight that they had ever seen in all their lives! There they were, sitting up there on their fine horses, looking down on me, talking in their own language and laughing their heads off. Then I began laughing, too, right there, in the middle of the main road of Ivrenlaer!

"All of us had a good laugh until another group of cavalry trotted down the street. Their leader, an arrogant little bastard of a popinjay, gestured towards me and barked out some orders to his men. Then three big fellows laid hold of me, bound my hands behind my back, and forced me to my knees. One of them shoved my head down as their leader raised his scimitar, preparing to hack off my head. Just then, the commanding general rode up with his staff and said something to the saucy little fellow who had taken such a fancy to parting my head from my body."

Tarlanc chuckled at the memory. "After the two of them talked a while in their own language, the general looked sympathetically at me. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he had been directing some right sharp remarks at the short man. The sum of it all was that the general proclaimed me mad before all of his men there assembled. He added that if any man harmed me, he would personally see that he was punished severely. He told me that while he was in command, he would see that I was treated kindly and that I did not go hungry. For a barbarian, the general was remarkably civilized."

"We saw where a terrible fire had swept through the village," Elfhild remarked, remembering the destruction they had seen earlier that afternoon. "Were the Easterlings responsible?"

"No, lass, it was nothing quite so dramatic as that, although the fire was exciting enough. Actually, no one really knows how the blaze started, but some believe that the culprit was a fool who knocked over a candle or lantern in his haste to escape, and the fire smoldered for a long time before it finally erupted into a conflagration. The orcs made no real attempt to quench the fire. The blaze continued until it burnt itself out. And that concludes the sad tale of Ivrenlaer."

"Thank you for telling us about your village and the war, sir," Elffled remarked. "I know that some of those memories brought you pain, and I apologize if we asked you anything that caused you grief."

"Ah, lass." Tarlanc shook his head sadly. "Life does not always treat us kindly, but since we have no control over our lot, why not make a tale of it, eh? At least I could entertain and enlighten you with my story, and perhaps you shall remember it long after we part ways. Or perhaps not. Who knows?" With a chuckle, he shrugged his shoulders. "Now, if you want this collar taken off your neck before dawn, I had best be getting at it. Sit down on the stool by the fire, where I can get a good look at you."

After Elffled had taken a seat, Tarlanc set to work filing off her collar. The sound of the harsh, rasping file reverberated in her skull, and she whimpered at the abuse inflicted upon her ears. She bore it as best she could without fidgeting or squirming, but it was an arduous challenge, and one which she failed several times. Finally the file made its agonizingly slow descent through the iron, and Tarlanc shouted in triumph.

"Ahhh, there it is free! Here you are, lass." Proud as the cock of the walk, he almost strutted as he moved in front of Elffled and placed the collar in her hands. Clutching the now broken band, she looked up at him through misty eyes.

"Oh, sir!" Elffled exclaimed as she rubbed away the tears. "How can I ever express my gratitude?"

"A simple thank you will do." Tarlanc beamed at her and patted her shoulder. "Now it is way past my bedtime..." He attempted to stifle a mighty yawn with his hand. "In case you two are wondering where you will sleep, you will find my bed nothing elaborate, but quite comfortable. There are several sleeping mats that I keep on hand for visitors, and I will sleep on one out here. Come, I will light a candle for you." As Tarlanc motioned for the girls to follow him to the bedroom, Haun suddenly sprang to his feet and growled menacingly.

"Quick, lasses!" Tarlanc exclaimed in a hissing whisper and held up his hand for silence. "Riders! I can hear them now! I do not think you want to meet them, for no honest man is abroad at this hour of the night! Hide in the bedroom and be quiet, and take these damn collars with you!"