Chapter 1 – Lest we forget

''Captain, Lord Denethor requires your presence in the throne room.''
''Thank you Beregand, I shall leave immediately.''Indilwen moved away from the window and followed Beregand out of her chambers. It was a beautiful morning in Gondor. The sun was shining through milky white clouds and the late summer wind carried the smell of strawberries. Since all the rangers, soldiers and their captains have returned it was time for another meeting of the council. It was a time of worry as with each month the news grew grim and fewer men would return than had left the city. Indilwen led a company of rangers which patrolled the northernmost woods of Ithilien, close to the south borders of Rohan.
''How many captains this time Beregand?'' – She asked in a quiet, thoughtful voice. ''Twenty have returned, my lady. Captain Martell and Captain Anardil are amongst the dead.'' – Replied Beregand. He was one of the Tower Guard and a messenger to Lord Denethor. An old man who had served his country well. Beregand commanded to open the door to the throne room. Inside, the Lord Steward sat on his high chair right below the throne. Next to him sat his sons, Boromir – Captain of the White Tower and Faramir – Captain of the Rangers of Ithillien, each clad according to their posts. Alongside the long table sat other captains of lesser office and advisors to Lord Denethor.
''Lady Indilwen, Captain of the Grey Cloaks.''- Announced Beregond in his high voice. Indilwen walked towards her place at the table. She was the only female captain and she knew that some of the other captains had seen her as unfit to command. ''My lord.'' – She bowed, - ''All quiet on the northern borders. We saw only two bands of Mordor Orcs trying to pass through the woods and both of them have been destroyed. No casualties this time however I do have a couple of wounded in my company. They will be ready for duty by the time we next move out.''
''I am impressed Indilwen. It is good to hear that at least our northern borders are safe. Other captains have not brought tidings as hopeful as yours.'' Lord Denethor paused deep in thought on the news.
'' How much longer do we have to wait father? We should protect Osgiliath at all costs; we cannot surrender our strongest defence. The northern and western borders are guarded but we will not stand much longer if we lose the crossing''- argued Boromir. He was a tall man, dark haired and grey eyed. A great warrior, respected not only by the people of Gondor, but by all who heard the tales of his victories.
''Brother please, let us not hasten. What if this is a trap? We must consider all options…''
''Faramir my son!'' – Interrupted Lord Denethor. - ''We have lingered too long already and let Sauron amass his allies from Umbar. To have a chance of winning this war we must strike now. Boromir, take whatever companies you require and fortify Osgiliath. This is my will and it shall be done.'' – He commanded.
''With your leave father I would like to call on my brother and his company, Captains Hirgon and Hirluin and their Blue Wings, Captain Duilin and his Eagles. And if she consorts, Captain Indilwen and her Grey Cloaks.'' At this, the hall was filled with whispers and murmurs. Everyone was looking at Indilwen, wondering if she will join Boromir's forces. She had never been in a defensive combat. Her style was to hunt and trap any that trespassed Gondor's borders without leave, quickly and quietly.
''My lord Boromir I do not understand. There are other captains in this hall who have more experience in defence strategies.'' – questioned Indilwen, blushing slightly, her heart beating with excitement. It was a high honour to be in either Prince's company.
''I shall require your presence as outrider. You are renowned for not letting any of the enemy's scouts through, we shall be in need of your help. The riverbanks are crawling with orcs and Corsairs. I have put my mind to sending you and Faramir to hunt down any enemy north east of Osgiliath. If all goes well we will not be under attack until spring.''- said Boromir. He knew that she was one of the best, and so did the rest of the captains. They would say nothing however because she was a woman of 28 years who had joined the Gondor's armies quicker than any man.
''As my lord commands. My company is ready for duty.'' – replied Indilwen.
''Very well. Let us not waste time. All of the companies summoned are to be ready at dawn. That would be all.'' – Announced Lord Denethor. He was the first to leave the throne room. Surprisingly this time he had not spoken to anyone but rushed back to his tower.
Indilwen sent Beregand to inform her company of the orders sent by the Lord Steward. She had never been as happy as when she was away, ranging. By the time the hall had emptied, she was already long gone back to her chambers. With the morning gone by, Indilwen let herself get ready for tomorrow's journey. She picked her dark brown leather tunic and boots, grey-green breeches and that famous grey cloak. Her backpack was already full of equipment she would need, maps, tinderboxes, dried food and water skins. Her bow and quiver lay next to two long silver knives engraved with golden filigree of vines and flowers – elven weaponry. When she was finished packing she stood in front of her mirror. Light ginger hair was flowing in elven plaits down her back, well past her shoulders. Blue eyes reflected every speck of light and glowed like two large sapphires. A tiny bit of freckles covered her nose and the apples of her cheeks. At 5'6'', she was the shortest ranger but it did not stop her to become one of the best there ever was. Her ears resembled those of elves, just like her mother's did.
Indilwen's parents were killed 18 years ago during a wildling raid on the village of Brema, where she was born. Her mother, Elwing who was half elf - half human, was stabbed by the leader of the wildlings. Her father, Horgim who was half dwarf – half human, was dead too however she did not witness his death. At the time of the attack she was with her mother gathering flowers just outside of the village whereas her father along, with her sister was in the orchard gathering ripe fruit off the trees. She managed to escape after a village guard had taken her on horse and rode with her to Minas Tirith, where his brother Damord lived. Damrod took Indilwen as his daughter and raised her up from the age of ten. Oftentimes, she would dream of the day her family was killed and the village was burned to the ground. She could recall her mother's warm laugh and soft hands that picked the purple flowers from the meadow, her father's beard and how it tickled her cheeks whenever he would pick her up. There was one however that she could not remember, it was her sister. She did not remember her name or her face. All she had left after her was a wolf's tooth pendant. No one was able to tell her what happened to her sister as her body was never found. Many had told her that the wildlings probably took her or that she ran away but died of thirst and hunger, somewhere in the green seas of Rohan.