From Gwedhiel to Mirima
As the armies of Rohan made camp that night, only one did not fail to acknowledge the foreboding air about them. It was not yet fully dark but the sun was in the process of setting for the night. Along the rocks, on the southeastern border of the camp, something was lurking. The elf, Legolas, felt something was amiss. As part of his early teachings he had learned not to ignore those types of feelings. They were his instincts and they had never failed him. His eyes searched the rocky terrain while also keeping a watchful eye on Estel. It was then that he saw it, nothing more than the smallest movement, but it was there nonetheless. As quickly as possible he placed an arrow on his bow and aimed it at the place where he had seen the movement. By the time did this it was too late. An arrow was speeding towards Aragorn's back. It would do no good to take down the archer and so Legolas moved his aim to intercept the arrow. He released the string and watched as his arrow hit the other close to the tip and they both spun off course somewhere to Aragorn's left. He breathed a sigh of relief. Estel was not lost.
Meanwhile, the assassin sunk to the ground not knowing what to feel. Many emotions were happening at once and she did not know which ones to let through. So, thus she sat, waiting. She saw the elf motion to a group of soldiers to follow him and she also saw them heading towards her. But she did not move from her place in the rocks, nor did she feel any reason to. She gently laid her bow a few feet to her right, then removed the quiver from her back and laid it next to her bow. These were her most prized possessions and she did this in order to prevent them from being damaged when the soldiers arrived. Moments later they were there, surrounding her. She stood and let them bind her hands behind her back none to gently. Then, in the waning light she let them lead her to the camp. She knew they had spoken but couldn't find the energy to listen to them.
She was taken to a tent where Isildur's heir and the dwarf were awaiting her arrival. As the last of the few soldiers filed in, she was roughly driven by one of the soldiers to her knees, letting out a small grunt, in front of the future king of men; the elf to his right, the dwarf to his left.
"No," the man spoke. "I will never force anyone into kneeling for me. Stand if you wish it," Aragorn gestured to the assassin, his voice soft but at the same time strong and respectable. "You may leave us now," he told the soldiers who promptly did as they were told. Stepping forward, Aragorn slowly removed the veil covering the assassin's face. As he stepped back he glanced first at the dwarf, then the elf. She was grateful he didn't make a comment about her being a woman.
"What is your name?" he asked her.
"I have none," she replied blankly, there was no emotion behind her words.
"Where are you from and why are you here?" came the next question. This time from the elf.
"I am from Harad. You know why I'm here," she answered in much the same manner as before.
The three of them were slightly surprised at the fact that she was from Harad. Her clothing suggested as much but she had the fair skin and dark hair of an elf of Rivindell, not unlike Arwen. "How old are you?" Legolas asked. He, as well as the other two, seemed perturbed by her.
"Nineteen."
"Why did you not run?"
"I failed," she said, her eyes shifting to the ground at her feet, shame evident in them.
"And what punishment do you think you deserve?" the leader of the three asked her. His face was so soft. He didn't seem angry in the least. Why? She had just tried to kill him.
Swallowing a rather large lump in her throat, she answered his question, with a whisper, "death."
"What are your thoughts?" Aragorn asked Gimli and Legolas, turning and coming to stand by the girl's side.
"Aye, that punishment fits the crime," was Gimli's grave reply.
"But. . . not the criminal. She is but a child," finished Legolas with an equally grave tone.
"Yes, I agree," stated Aragorn, glancing at the girl. He then turned to face her once more.
"We could. . . release her. Send her back to her people," suggested Legolas.
The girl suddenly looked very frightened. "Nay. I beg of you. 'twould be a fate worse than death. If you were to kill me it would be an act of mercy," the girl pleaded, her voice laced with fear.
"And what of your own people? What would they do if you returned having failed at your task?" asked Aragorn.
"They would. . . they would have me executed also, but slowly. They would draw it out for as long as possible. It would be agonizing. I have seen it done," she said, her eyes full of tears that she would not let fall.
"And what if you had succeeded. What would they have done?"
"I would not have run from you in either case. I seek death. This was nothing more than a suicide mission. I did not expect to return to Harad in any event," she said, the emotion once again leaving her voice.
"Why? Is your life there so terrible?" asked Aragorn, with so much genuine concern in his voice and on his face that the girl had to look away.
"Unimaginably so," she whispered this time.
"What makes it so?" Asked Legolas.
"Look at me! I look like the people from the North. My father was a slave descended from elves and my mother was lucky to find a man that would marry her when my father was executed for his actions with my mother. I have always been an outcast among 'my people.' Had I not left Harad, my stepfather would have eventually killed me with his beatings regardless. There is nothing he hates more than elves!" she yelled at them, spitting the word elves.
All was quiet for a few moments before Aragorn spoke. "Tell me. Do you hold any allegiance to Sauron, Mordor, or Harad?"
"None. I hate them all. I would never serve one like Sauron," she said vehemently.
"Who would you serve?" he asked looking her in the eye.
"Someone who is noble and just. Someone who's very presence demands respect but who will not force others to give it," she paused before continuing. "You," she said, sounding surprised at her own words.
"Then why did you go through with your attempt at assassinating me instead of seeking refuge?" he wondered.
"I did not know you. I was not looking for refuge, just death, just a way out of my life. Now I wish I had done as you suggested. Knowing that there could be something better makes the prospect of death sit uneasy with me," the girl said.
"So, if given the choice, you would indeed choose to follow me over death," asked Aragorn, with a bit of mischief in his voice.
She thought for a moment before saying, "yes."
Aragorn smiled widely now. She could see the bewilderment in the eyes of the others when he said, "good," and moved to cut the ropes tying her hands. "This is Legolas, prince of the Mirkwook elves, and Gimli, son of Gloin," Aragorn said, gesturing to the two in turn. "Legolas, escort her to Eowyn's tent. Inform her that this girl will be staying with her for the remainder of the trip."
Legolas stepped forward, gently taking the girl's hand in his own and preparing to lead her from the tent when she suddenly said, "wait." She rushed forward and knelt at Aragorn's feet.
"I pledge my self and my life to your service until that time when my debt has been repaid," she said to Aragorn. He reached down and took her hand, gently pulling her to rise to her feet.
"I shall not forget it," he said to her. She nodded and turned to go with Legolas.
"Legolas," shouted Aragorn just before Legolas stepped from the tent. "Find her a name," he said with a wink.