Unbreakable Hope

Chapter One

Spring in Year 2912 of the Third Age

The child always seemed to wake up before everyone else. Even though Naneth had to fetch water and Adar's first priority was to bring in the firewood, it was invariably she who roused them.

With a careful glance at her sleeping parents, she slipped out from under her coverlet. It was the first morning she hadn't shivered. She grinned at Delbor's approach. The wolfhound pushed his muzzle against her cheek, begging for a scratch behind the ears.

"It's really spring, Del!" she whispered excitedly as she obliged. "That means longer days and swims in the river and Adar will finally teach me to ride! He might even go to Riverdale and get me a pony!" The dog yawned, evidently unmoved by the little girl's excitement.

She moved to stroking his back, an action which elicited a contented sigh from the hound. "Wouldn't you like that Del?" she pushed. "Running alongside my pony as I gallop her after the hunt? I'm going to be old enough soon, I know I am." Delbor licked her hand and sprawled at her feet, begging for the inevitable tickling of his tummy.

Unable to resist, the child started tickling the hound's tummy, giggling at his puppy-like antics. Their noise was soon enough to rouse her father.

"Am I never to sleep beyond the first light of dawn?" Dίrhael groaned. He glanced down at his daughter and was unable to restrain a chuckle at the sight of the child rolling around with the huge hound that was three times her size. She was always giggling. It seemed that nothing could quench his daughter's sunny disposition. "Auriel are you ever going to stop giggling?" he asked, using his daughter's pet name.

The little girl's response was to stand up and dive on to her father's chest. "Only when you are grumpy, Adar!" she replied with glee, putting her little arms around his neck.

Dίrhael melted as he always did at his daughter's embrace and kissed her forehead gently before rising. "Well now you must deal with the consequences of waking your father, Gilraen, the day must begin. Come now, it's time to dress."

Unlike the reprimand that her father had evidently intended this to be, the little girl positively bounced at this prospect, running around the cottage like a whirlwind and was dressed long before her father had finished tying his boots. Unable to resist a chuckle, Dίrhael led his daughter out with a slightly furrowed brow, speaking seriously of consequences to them both if they disturbed her mother before her usual hour of rising.

In the end, Ivorwen rose in time to observe her husband and daughter busily engaged in the chopping and collecting of wood. The morning's eggs were already gathered and waiting by her stove and their two cows were loudly declaring their desire to be milked.

"Valar preserve us from your noise, Hîth!" she exclaimed, giving the loud beast a hefty slap on the rump, which only resulted in the cow turning to gaze expectantly at the woman. With further grumbling, Ivorwen seated herself and set about the task of milking.

Gilraen set about her tasks with the acceptance of normality that only a small child can. This small homestead was her entire life. Her father's laughter. Her mother's grumbling. Hours of play with Delbor. The daily routine of chores and meals. This encompassed her whole world and as a small child does, she never questioned that it always would be.

With the exception of infrequent visits by passing rangers and nearby family members, the life on their farm was typical of any Dúnedainic homestead. Quiet, industrious and productive, Gilraen didn't experience the loneliness of single childhood because she had never known anything else.

Although she loved visiting her Uncle Borniven and Aunt Gildis's farm to spend time with her cousins, Gilraen also felt a slight relief when she was able to return to the quiet of their family life. Her days always started with her father, but inevitably ended with her mother, learning to cook and clean, sew and weave, as well as tend to their lifestock.

Ivorwen had just called Gilraen in to continue with her sewing when a hail was heard from the east. Delbor had already taken off and was barking loudly, chasing and being chased by a motley assortment of dogs who followed her uncle and cousins around all day. Gilraen rushed after them, heedless of her mother's calls.

Borniven was laughing loudly as he watched his niece pounce upon Ravu, a particular favourite of hers who was similar in size to a wolf but a very gentle giant and instantly fell sideways, taking her with him and offering several itchy spots to be scratched. His eldest son Orodir joined in the laughter as his younger brothers joined in the general scrimmage, chasing and playing with the dogs.

Dίrhael approached with a broad grin, "Mae govannen brother," he greeted warmly, "good morning Orodir. How are you both?"

"Very well brother, I thank you," Borniven replied, still very amused by his niece. "I see that Ivorwen's lessons in being ladylike are still going over Gilraen's head?"

Dίrhael glanced affectionately at his daughter who was still wrestling with Ravu and smiled.

"She's still a little lass, though Ivorwen does often threaten to give up on her entirely."

Borniven laughed, "Our Gailwen was the same at her age and now look at her, engaged to young Thordir."

Dίrhael smiled hugely, "Has a date yet been set for the betrothal?"

His brother shrugged, "Who can tell? I mean to ride to Lord Argonui with Thordir and his father when Spring has properly come, then we can confirm an official date."

Dίrhael nodded. It would be a long journey for them, travelling from their homesteads on the eastern plain of Enedwaith to the Angle south of Rivendell, where most of their kin lived.

"Well it seems that the cold weather is finally being left behind. Gilraen has told me repeatedly that this is the first morning she had got out of bed without shivering."

The owner of this name, having thoroughly fussed over her favourite dog, now looked up at mention of her name and trotted over, eager for a hug from both her uncle and biggest male cousin.

"Are you going to Lord Argon-ooee?" she asked curiously.

The three men burst out laughing at her childish pronunciation of their chief's name.

"Ar-gono-wé Auriel, not Argon-ooee!" Orodir exclaimed. "If the chief ever does come you must be able to at least pronounce his name!"

"Will he come here?" Gilraen persisted.

"I highly doubt it, my little lion, now kindly go inside and let your mother know that your uncle and cousins have come to visit."

In the end, it was a merry gathering as Ivorwen came out to welcome her brother-in-law and nephews. After the horses were dealt with, she bustled them all into the house and soon they were all seated with steaming mugs of tea, enjoying a moment of quiet after the busyness of the morning.

"So, what brings you here?" Ivorwen inquired, keeping a weather eye on her scones which Delbor was currently eyeing.

"We're to have a visit from kin of Lord Argonui," Borniven stated proudly, "we had a ranger staying with us last night. Lord Arathorn is to come and inspect the eastern regions of Enedwaith, maybe even as far north as Minhiriath, to consider whether it might be worth establishing a settlement there."

"But it's a wasteland up there," Ivorwen countered, "And it's utterly uninhabited."

"So was the eastern province until we took a chance, meleth nîn," Dίrhael gently reminded his wife. "Don't you recall how all our relatives called us insane until we made a life for ourselves here? Now there are over forty families of our people in this region!"

"I know that, but Dίrhael, you know as well as I that Minhiriath is completely ungoverned. No-one knows who even lives there, there could be trolls, ogres, even orcs."

"I'd kill dead any orc who threatened me!" stated Maenir, Borniven's youngest son. "Da's been teaching us to use a sword and I'm getting better than Tavor …" This then started an argument which inevitably led to a fight between the two youngest boys who, while slightly older than Gilraen, were of the age when fighting was as common as quarrelling.

"Peace, you two young ruffians," Borniven stated, grabbing each son by a scruff and dragging them aside. "If you can't behave nicely in your aunt and uncle's house then I promise that you shall sleep in the stables with the beasts tonight and every night until you learn to stop brawling like a pair of drunkards."

The boys ceased, though young Tavordir continued to glare at his brother throughout the discussion.

"When is Lord Arathorn to come?" Ivorwen asked, moving the scones to a higher shelf.

"They say by the next full cycle of the moon," Borniven replied.

Ivorwen nodded, "Well it will be interesting to have a gathering, it has been a long time. We could celebrate Nost-na-Lothion earlier this year."

Dίrhael considered. "I suppose we could, it would be very pleasant to have a gathering, the last was for Mettarë and that was many months ago."

Gilraen was suddenly bouncing, "May I wear my yellow dress, Naneth? You never let me wear it except at gatherings!"

"Because it is for special occasions, Auriel," Ivorwen gently chastised.

"A gathering would certainly be an appropriate way to welcome Lord Arathon, Father," Orodir added.

Tavordir snorted, "And see Maenien again …"

Orodir aimed a well placed kick that sent his younger brother scuttling behind the safety of his father.

Borniven grunted, hiding a laugh, "Probably best not to maim your bother Orodir."

"Even when it's very satisfying, Da?" the eldest son queried, his face a little pink.

Dίrhael laughed, "You as well Orodir? My goodness brother, it will soon only be you and Gildis left with the boys." He turned to his nephew, "Maenien is a very sweet maid, lad, she would be lucky to have you." Orodir flushed slightly and muttered his thanks.

"Well, enough talk now," Ivorwen stated, "it seems that Gildis and I need to have a long conversation about this gathering. Come along Gilraen, you and I will go and visit your aunt while our menfolk decide to do something useful to prepare, such as, maybe going hunting?"

The hint was not lost upon the men who immediately started sorting themselves into a hunting party, even allowing the boys to come. Diverted by thoughts of seeing her aunt and eldest cousin, Gilraen was quick to put on her cloak and tie up her boots. She even stood still long enough for Ivorwen to comb and re-braid her long blond hair which was resembling a birth's nest after her play with the dogs.

In the end, Ivorwen and Gildis spent the rest of the day discussing and making plans for how to feed people at the gathering. With the arrival of Spring there would thankfully be less reliance upon the remains of their winter stores, with the coming of the early spring shoots and grasses.

As it turned out, the gathering plans soon took on a life of their own and there were few days over the next three weeks that the two families did not see each other. News of the planned gathering to celebrate Nost-na-Lothion that year spread far and wide and there was much excitement and anticipation at the arrival of their chieftain's eldest son.

It had been decided that the gathering would take place at Gwaflò-Lanthir, the largest settlement in the Dúnedainic community in the Eastern Province. Literally translating to Waterfall of the Greyflood, it was a large and prosperous homestead owned by Lord Elrodir, a great nephew of Lord Argonui who had come a year after the first settlers and prospered.

It was a large and commodious building, boasting a hall large enough to accommodate a proper dance. It also had a beautiful dock that looked out over the vast waterfall, an impressive feat of architecture that many admired.

As the gathering approached, the anticipation also grew. Gatherings were rare things for the Dúnedainic community and therefore much looked forward to. The prospect of meeting other young people was also highly anticipated by the younger Dúnedainic population. The presence of their chieftain's grandson also set many a young heart fluttering. For Lord Arathorn was 39 years old and still unwed.

"Do you think Gailwen would have been interested in Lord Arathorn if she had not met Thordir?" Ivorwen asked her sister-in-law on a quiet afternoon of baking, the week before the gathering.

Gildis considered the question. "I suppose so, but what maiden would not be more than ready to fall in love with the Chieftain's son? I've heard that he has never looked twice at the same girl."

Ivorwen nodded, "I too have heard this. His life has been too focussed upon combat and the defence of the North, I dare say."

"Still, he is not yet 40, a good age to marry."

Ivorwen snorted, "And who would you have him marry; Gilraen perhaps?"

Gildis laughed as she watched her niece playing with her favourite doll. "Stranger things have happened!"

However, the weather did not prove to be on the side of the Dúnedain as the start of the next week saw the heaviest rain and storms to hit Enedwaith and Minhiriath for over a decade. Many guests were forced to made wide excursions from the normal road to reach Gwaflò-Lanthir safely. Lord Elrodir was most accommodating to the visiting Dúnedain and saw to it that every guest had a bed, whether it was in a storehouse or barn, every visitor was given shelter under a roof.

Dίrhael and Borinvern's families arrived the night before the gathering and were accommodated in what was called the Lower Hall. Excited by all the new faces and large building, Gilraen and her younger cousins spent a happy evening making friends with distant kin and chasing each other around the large dining hall.

However, not even little Gilraen could remain oblivious to the solemnity of the occasion as she was woken early the next morning by her mother, thoroughly washed and dressed in her special yellow dress. Her long blond hair had had early spring flowers woven into its braids and she stayed nervously by her mother's side, refusing to let go of her skirt.

When the vital moment came, she was introduced by her father to a tall, dark-haired man who seemed richly dressed but her most vivid memory was of his chain. It was a beautiful object that enraptured her. A large, dark blue stone hung upon a golden chain and she instinctively reached for it without thinking.

"Gilraen, cease," her mother chided. But Lord Arathorn was kind and knelt down by the little girl.

"Do you like my chain, child?" he asked gently. Gilraen nodded. Carefully, Lord Arathorn brought it close so that she could touch it.

"Does it have blue fire in there?" she asked curiously.

The Dúnedain lord considered her question before answering, "It is a good enough description," he agreed. "My father was gifted this stone by a dwarf-king after he saved his life. They say that it contains the fire of the earth."

Gilraen touched it once more but then frowned, "Why would fire be blue?" she asked, "Shouldn't it be red?"

Arathorn smiled. "That makes a great deal of sense, Lady Gilraen. I shall have to ask my father when next see him." He touched her hair gently before rising and moving on.

The gathering then progressed in a leisurely manner. After the introductions a great feast was given, to the delight and enjoyment of all. Ivorwen and Gildis had done themselves proud, turning their menfolk's hunting into a thick and rich stew that was enjoyed by many. Lord Elrodir had provided several casks of beer and one of potent Dorwinion wine that was enjoyed by many of the guests.

The dancing then followed this and was enjoyable for all. Many a mother and grandmother observed the Chieftain's grandson with interest as he danced with numerous maidens, but never the same one twice. This was keenly observed by the men and remarked upon as the safest way to avoid entanglements with many a young woman of marriageable age.

Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall heavily outside, causing the water of the falls to rise exponentially. A thing that one particular lookout was negligent to spot after his third glance of the infamous Dorwinion brew.

With the continued distraction of the parents, the children had been greatly enjoying a rare day of freedom, away from adult authority. There were about twenty children at the event and they had all banded together to play various games. A chasing game in the lower hall had followed the feast and this had then given way to an ambitious game of hide and seek.

Gilraen, tagging along with Maenir and Tavordir had been following her cousins everywhere and now followed them outside when they all ran off to hide. Lord Elrodir had constructed a covered walkway that ran alongside the dock and this normally provided a beautiful prospect. Tonight however, the storm was raging and the sight of the quickly rising, torrential water terrified and filled with children with awe.

Gilraen and Maenir instantly backed away fearfully. Tavordir, however, was transfixed. He took a step towards the uncovered dock and held out his hand. His sleeve came back saturated.

"Tavor, come back inside, Naneth will be angry if you get your tunic wet," Maenir implored. Tavordir ignored his brother and took another step out.

"I want a drink!" he exclaimed with glee.

"Tavor, come back," Gilraen implored, "it's not safe."

"I'm not a baby," the 8-year-old stated. "It's just water …"

"I don't like it," Gilraen stated, "it's not safe."

"Baby," Tavor exclaimed with glee.

Gilraen pouted, "I'm not a baby …"

"Yes, you are, only a baby would be scared of water."

It was then that Gilraen made a decision that would define her young life. Emboldened by her stubbornness. The little girl took three tentative steps out on to the dock. The raging water was making it sway alarmingly, but her obstinacy kept her going until she was standing a few feet from her cousin.

"See, I'm not a baby," she stated.

"Tavor, Gilli, come back," Maenir said, still under the cover of the walkway. "Naneth wouldn't be happy."

After grinning at his cousin approvingly, Tavor had taken his first single step back towards the walkway when it happened. The dock shook violently. Gilraen screamed, falling heavily and rolling towards the edge of the dock.

"Gilli!" Maenir shouted his cousin's name as Tavor dived for her, but before he could reach her, the dock shuddered again and she fell into the water. Both boys watched in horror as their cousin was pulled under the water.

However, before they could even scream, a man was barrelling towards them, stripping off a very fine tunic and a golden chain.

"Where did she go under?" he demanded of Maenir. The young boy stared and simply pointed.

The next moment, Lord Arathorn the Second was diving into the swirling water after the little girl. Many other adults had joined them by this time, but they were kept back by Lord Elrodir's men who were terrified of the dock giving way. Dίrhael was barely being restrained by Bornivern as he screamed Gilraen's name.

It seemed to Maenir that months had passed before he saw a pale shape rising from the turbulent water. Several hands reached down to help the chieftain out and lift the little girl into the arms of a healer. After a few minutes of desperate work, Gilraen was able to breathe and her parents thanked their chieftain with tears in their eyes.

Lord Arathorn, however, would not hear of their thanks and merely stated that he was grateful to have been there at the right time.

However, Lord Arathorn would never forget that stormy night when he saved a young girl from drowning. As for Gilraen, she would always remember the day she had been saved by the future chieftain of their people.

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Sindarin translations -

Auriel – "little lion"

Hîth – mist

Naneth – Mother

Adar – Father

Mae govannen – Well met (a traditional Sindarin formal greeting)

Enedwaith and Minhiriath are both uninhabited regions of land in Middle Earth to the south of Eriador. I've done a lot of research about their history and they seem to have been relatively uninhabited, so I thought them an appropriate place for the Dunedain. It states in The Peoples of Middle Earth that they lived in "the wilds of Eriador", so I think Enedwaith fits this description.

Nost-na-Lothion and Mettarë are both Elvish festivals that I thought appropriate for the Dunedain to celebrate. Mettarë is the celebration of the winter solstice and Nost-na-Lothion is the spring festival.

Gwaflò-Lanthir translates as literally "Falls of the Greyflood" and is the only way I have altered Tolkien's map, creating a waterfall where there is none. However, I thought it would be suitable because in the year 2912 of the Third Age it does say that there was heavy flooding across the region in the Appendices.

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Author's note: I have wanted to write my own version of Gilraen and Arathorn II's relationship for many years and I have been thinking about them a lot. I don't know how long this story will be, but I plan to write from Gilraen's childhood to Arathorn's death.

I value every read and review, they mean a great deal to me. Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy the story1

Breeze.