Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places and things are copyright to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien, his heirs and assigns, and licensees. The character of Daeron Greyvale is copyright to the author of this fanfic. This story is posted as an homage to The Lord of the Rings and is not intended to challenge or violate the rights of the above mentioned copyright holders.

Dedication: For all the writers who have inspired me over the past year while I have been unable to write due to real world issues. I wish I could give you everything you deserve. I hope you enjoy this small token of my esteem. Also for my ever so patient readers, please accept my apologies for falling off hte face of the planet for so long.

Something That Never Happened to Daeron Greyvale

By Dancingkatz

"Just drink it already!" Daeron glared at his companion; something that would have been rather more effective if he weren't standing in only his smallclothes and a damp blanket with water dripping from his hair and down his nose.

His companion, who was just as soaked as he was, looked askance at the sludgy looking contents of the tin mug he held in his hands, grumbling, "Of all the things not to be lost in that damned river… "

"Drink it or I'll hold your nose and pour it down your throat."

"You and what army, whelp?" With a grimace that would have done an orc proud, the shivering man shoved the cup back at Daeron. "I'm not drinking that foul stuff. I'll be fine once I get warm and dry again."

Daeron pushed the cup back. "Yes, you will drink it. I'm not going back and having to tell my mother that you died of the lung fever. I think you inhaled half the water on Arda when Yclaen threw you off in that excuse for a ford. So drink, or I will pour it down your throat!"

It was only then that his "patient" looked up and saw the fear that still lit the younger man's eyes and he relented and swallowed the draught. "Gah! Why can the Healers ever come up with a cure that tastes palatable? There, satisfied?"

"I won't be satisfied until we get what you've come for and are safe home again. But this will do for now." Daeron took the cup and returned to the other side of the fire where all their belongings that weren't lost in the rain-swollen river or were still in Yclaen's saddlebags were spread out drying. "If I can find enough dry wood to keep the fire going all night, this should all be dry by morning."

"You got as wet as I did, Daeron. So why aren't you drinking any of that Valar-awful stuff?"

"I wasn't the one who had to be hauled out and have half the river forced from his lungs. We lost your healing kit when Yclaen decided to go to the wrong shore," Daeron added fuel to the fire and checked the pot of water that sat on the stones that made up the hastily built firepit. "At least I had most of the food in my saddlebags and the oilskin bag was tied tight enough to keep it from getting wet. I don't relish the idea of trying to hunt around here."

"Me, either. It's taken too long to get just this far and I have the feeling that time is quickly running out. We'll have to find another horse. If we walk it will be next spring before we arrive." The half-drowned man's voice was slow and beginning to slur as he spoke. "Damn it, Daeron, what did you put in that draught?"

"Valerian, among other things. You need to sleep tonight, not stay awake mapping out a revised campaign." Daeron poured out the contents of the pot into the now clean mug and held it to his companion's lips. "It's just broth this time. Finish it and go to sleep. You can figure out where we're going to find a horse to buy in the morning."

"Fine. Some esquire you are… more of a nursemaid…" The words trailed off as the broth was greedily drunk and the grey eyes closed as the drug and exhaustion finally had their way.

Daeron knelt by his companion in silence for a time and then realised that he'd do better to get himself fed and a bit more dry if he was going to be awake enough make sure that his charge arrived where he was supposed to be going instead of getting them lost somewhere in the foothills of the mountains. He was no Ranger like his much missed friend Halmir, but you couldn't be lifelong best friends with a Ranger of Ithilien and not learn to track and navigate in the Wild.

Especially if you were trying to find a place that was as legendary as they sought.

"Good night, Boromir. I pray the Valar have the answer to your riddle when we finally find Imladris."