I do not own Lord of the Rings, neither the books nor the movies. I wrote this story for my own pleasure only. If it seems like anyone else likes it I may continue it.
We pick up our story several days after the hobbits have left Bree in the company of Aragorn, the Ranger.
At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
A man stood alone in a small clearing in the woods deep in the heart of the Shire. He stared intently up at the sky as if meditating. He had on dark clothing and over it a dark cloak. He wore no ornament save for a brooch like a rayed star which fastened his cloak at the left shoulder. He was obviously not a meditating sage; though, for he carried a bow and quiver of arrows on his back and the fading sunlight glinted off a sword at his side.
At the edge of the clearing the shadows seemed to thicken and solidify. A similarly dressed and cloaked figure glided soundlessly into the clearing. This person also wore no ornament save the star brooch- identical to the man's except for a large beryl–an elf stone– set in the middle. The man must have sensed the presence of another for presently he said, "It will be a dark night."
"The better for my purpose," replied a female voice. So, his companion was a woman. She was armed just as heavily as he–perhaps even more. She wore twin blades on her back, somewhat shorter than the one at his side, along with a quiver of arrows. Her bow was conspicuously absent. She also wore a long dagger at her waist and the hilt of a knife protruded from her boot.
"My lady, are you certain it is safe to leave? We leave the Shire open to attack. It will very likely attract a great deal of notice and suspicion."
"It is undoubtedly unsafe and undoubtedly necessary, Halbarad. We are too late. The Nazgul have slipped through our defenses; there has been no sign of Gandalf. I think the haflings have come and gone, and if I am to aid them as I vowed I will need to ride with all haste. However to minimize suspicion and chance of being followed I will go alone."
"My lady–"
"Silence, Halbarad. I am well able to take care of myself."
"At least allow me to accompany you, Princesse. Two will attract no more notice than one…"
"I said I go alone. I need you to take command of the Dunedain. You will round up the border guards and bring them to Rivendell. Do I make myself clear?" Her cold, beautiful face softened somewhat. "I do find your concern touching; however, I will be fine."
"I understand. It will be done, Princesse Armedala. Forgive me. It is just that I have watched you grow too quickly from a child into the greatest warrior in Middle Earth bar one, and sometimes it is easy to forget you are not still that child. I will not fail."
"I never had the slightest doubt, cousin. It is I who should ask forgiveness. I am troubled. Too many things have gone wrong. I am afraid. Afraid that now, when the fate of Middle Earth is poised on the edge of a knife, I will fail. I am young, Halbarad. I am only nineteen."
"You will not fail, my lady. You are Armedala Gilduril Estel Dune′dan, the last of the Numenoreans. Bearer of the swords Gilduril (Star of the West), daughter of Arathorn, sister of Aragorn, descended in line unbroken from Isildur, Elendil's son. You are the Chieftainess of the Dunedain of Arnor, the most beautiful woman ever to live; fairer even than your mother, Gilraen the Fair. You are the greatest warrior Middle Earth has ever known except for your brother. You have trained all your life for this hour Princesse. You will not fail."
"Thank you, Halbarad. May a star shine upon you." Armedala smiled and then whistled sharply. A particularly fine coal black horse came charging through the forest. He was bridled and saddled and carried a bow at his side. Armedala leaped lightly onto his back and cried, "Noro lim, Gwahir; noro lim!" She rode fast into the night, slowing only when she came to the high road leading to Bree. Halbarad's words had been somewhat comforting, but she was still concerned. Armedala had made light of the matter to her overprotective cousin, but the situation was rather serious. No one had heard from Gandalf for many months. This was unusual and alone boded more trouble than the unshakable princess cared to think about. The Nazgul were unleashed– this meant Sauron was growing bolder by the day. She had had no word from Aragorn either. Not that they were particularly close. Actually, they had never met. Both were Rangers; fated to wander Middle Earth constantly facing terror and hardship which would destroy an ordinary human for the sake of protecting the innocent and helpless. Aragorn had left Rivendell shortly after her birth and their mother's death. He had rarely returned since then. Armedala had spent her entire young life training and studying. She could speak all the languages of Middle Earth and recite all its history. She could ride and swim and run and fight. She could shoot an arrow and throw a spear. She had no equal. At six she had left Rivendell and begun to travel with the elves first and later her own people, the Rangers. When she was thirteen she went off on her own. It was her first quest. The one that would either make or destroy her. She went to find the Swords that were Lost. Many brave men had sought them– none had ever returned. But the prophecy had said she would be the one to find them– and she did. She had returned to Rivendell bearing the black onyx-studded blades; the sisters of the blade that would one day be her brother's, forged by Telchar in the dark before the dawn of time. She called them Gilduril– Star of the West. She was then fully worthy of her birth.
She sat up straighter. Day was just breaking. They had almost reached Bree. This may be difficult, Gwahir, she thought. Her unusual, elf-like, beauty– height beyond that of most women, grace and agility beyond that of most humans, luxurious auburn hair, perfect form and features, creamy skin that revealed nothing of the hardships she constantly endured, stunning dark eyes with long dark lashes, and a well formed mouth attracted a great deal of attention; as did her considerable weaponry. If she had any enemies in Bree it would not be long until they knew of her arrival. She would also have to deal with those who tended not to trust a woman who rode the wild alone on a black horse with twin blades on her back and a bow at her side. She pulled her deep hood over her head completely shading her face. Perhaps she could pass as a man until she reached the Prancing Pony.
Armedala gave Gwahir into the care of a stable hand and entered the inn. She looked around to be sure there was no one else in the front room. "Mr. Barliman." She threw off her cloak. "I would like a word with you– in private." Barliman started as he saw her weapons. He opened his mouth to cry for help. Armedala took a quick step forward. "I would not do that if I were you. I mean you no harm, but I did ask to have a private word with you. Calling for help would not be conducive to that purpose, would it?" The innkeeper closed his mouth and gestured towards a small room off of the main entrance.
"This will do, madam?" he asked.
"Nicely," Armedala replied. "I am a Ranger, one of the Dunedain of the North. I know you do not trust our kind, but the lives of many depend on your trusting me today. I am a particular friend of Gandalf the Grey. I wish only to ask you some questions and to receive honest answers – but have a care; I shall know if you are lying."
"You're an elf-sorceress!"
"No, but I am the last of a great race which is very close kin to the elves. I am able to enter your mind and take what I need by force, but this would very likely destroy you. I do not wish that. The choice is yours –shall it be the easy way or the hard way?"
"What do you wish to know?"
"Have you seen Gandalf?"
"Three days ago. He barely stopped but rode off into the wild."
"That is the best news I have heard for some time. Have you seen a hobbit, traveling under the name Mr. Underhill, but whose rightful name was Frodo Baggins?"
"You seem to know everything, my lady; otherwise, I would not tell you this do with me what you would."
"Your courage is commendable, Mr. Barliman. However, I mean no harm to Mr. Baggins; rather, I am sworn to help and protect him."
"Mr. Frodo and his three companions left four days ago in the company of another Ranger, Strider we call him. You should also know that they were being pursued by Black Riders."
"Black Riders!" she cried. " I cannot spare a moment! Thank you, Mr. Barliman. You would be safest if you forgot me until I am far away. I have many enemies." She swept on her cloak, again drawing the hood far over her face. In the inn yard she sprang onto Gwahir's back and cantered off through the streets of Bree, heedless of the stares of the people and the fact that her hood had blown back, revealing her face. The danger did not lie in Bree. She should have realized that long ago. Danger was ahead of her and she was riding fast to meet it.
A Knife in the Dark
"Show me your best!" she cried to Gwahir. "Noro lim, Noro lim!" Armedala rode hard and reached the Forsaken Inn as the afternoon was fading. She stopped only long enough to eat and see that Gwahir had food and water. Through the night and most of the next day they rode almost without stopping. It was almost as if she fled from some demon, but the danger lay ahead. The demons Armedala sought to escape were those of her own doubt. Years of training could not guarantee that she would be strong enough when put to the test. True, she had faced formidable foes before, but nothing that equaled the Nazgul. And that was what her heart told her lay at the end of this road. "No man can kill the Nazgul. No man can smite the Witch King and live." Those words echoed down from a history that most of the inhabitants of Middle Earth had long ago forgotten. Her only hope was placed in the slim chance of a loophole in the curse. She was no man. And in that fragile hope rested the fate of Middle Earth.
Night was falling as Armedala came within sight of Weather Top. She surveyed the area with eyes as keen as any elf's. At the crest of Weather Top she could see several figures moving. She did not doubt that it was her brother and the hobbits. Then she looked directly ahead of her and saw what made her blood run cold. Not more than a few miles away were five of the Nazgul.
"The enemy is here," Aragorn stated to Frodo. "I was careless to stand so long on the exposed hilltop, but I was desperate to find some trace of Gandalf.
"How many?" asked Frodo. Those small dark shapes moving about on the plain beneath them terrified him more than he would have cared to admit.
"Five. Come we must get out of sight."
"Look," cried Frodo, "There's another coming." A strange look crossed Aragorn's face as he watched the tiny shape that had appeared on the horizon. It was indeed another figure on a black horse–to all appearances another ringwraith. He forgot all about leaving. They watched as the new rider paused, seeming to hesitate, and then spurred their on with renewed speed.
"Impossible," Aragorn muttered.
"What is it, Strider?"
"I do not think that one is an enemy. It is madness. He cannot hope to win. Why?" The last question came out as a sort of anguished wail.
"What is it? You're frightening me, Strider!" But Aragorn had fallen silent, engrossed in the scene being played out on the plain below.
Armedala urged Gwahir on relentlessly. She drew her hood over her head and left her swords in their sheath. She would not fight them unless she had to.
The five Nazgul heard her approach and turned awaiting her arrival, completely blocking off the road. Armedala pulled Gwahir to a stop a little distance away. She focused all her energy on resisting the terror that the foul creatures emanated.
"Go back," hissed the tallest wraith who Armedala realized was none other than the dreaded Witch King himself. "You cannot passs. Go back and live. Ssstay and you will die."
Armedala bent all her will to fighting the power of their presence and the horror of the black breath which could drive men mad without the Nazgul ever laying hand on them.
"I ssee we have a ssstrong one here. You cannot passs. Go back."
"I must pass. You will allow me. I will not go back."
"No? Then we will kill you. Prepare for death." The Witch King shook his mace.
"It will be your death, not mine, Angmar." He hissed angrily at her use of his former name.
"Fool! No man can kill us."
"It is fortunate, then, that I am not a man," she said throwing back her hood and drawing one of her swords. She saw a ripple of fear pass through the wraiths at her revelation and the sight of her blades.
"Those blades were lost."
"And now they are found by their rightful bearer."
"Farewell fool! Prepare to die!" With that they charged her. Years of battle training rushed to Armedala's aid as she parried and slashed with lightning speed. Gwahir anticipated each move of the enemy and moved to attack or avoid blows without instruction. It was four to one but she was holding her own beautifully. Then one of the ringwraiths made his fatal mistake coming within reach of a thrust from her blade. She stabbed hard and the wraith shrieked horribly. A wave of black, icy cold energy washed through her from her sword arm, threating to knock her unconscious. She withdrew the sword as the ringwraith dissolved and turned just in time to see the Witch King bring his heavy mace down on her left arm. Then the Nazgul wheeled and fled across the plain. Armedala reeled as she sheathed her sword. The pain was unlike any she had ever felt before. Her sword arm was numb and the cold was sweeping through her body, choking her brain. She was slipping, slipping into the dark abyss. "Go, Gwahir," she whispered, "find Aragorn." She wrapped her hands in his mane as best she could and slumped forward onto his neck, trying futilely to remain conscious. Horse and rider flew towards Weather Top. They were almost halfway up the slope when Gwahir felt his rider slipping. The faithful horse stopped and allowed her to slide, unconscious, off his back. He stood over her protectively.
Aragorn rushed down the slope careless of lingering enemies or being seen. He muttered a curse under his breath as he saw the crumpled figure over which the large black horse seemed to be standing guard. He spoke soothingly to the horse in High Elven and Gwahir moved aside to allow him to approach his rider. Again Aragorn cursed under his breath in an attempt to conceal from himself the real grief that was washing through him. This rider was undoubtedly one of the Dunedain, all of whom were like family to him; he dreaded to discover which of them it was that lay dying before him. Not even the Dunedain could withstand the Ringwraiths in open combat– resist their power, perhaps, but cross blades with these horrors and survive– no.
He approached his fallen comrade and knelt beside the body. He gently drew back the hood which obscured the rider's face. Then he gasped and drew back as if stung. "It cannot be," he whispered. His eyes traveled down to the brooch that fastened the rider's cloak. There could be no doubt. This was no mere ranger, this was his younger sister, and though injured and unconscious still very much alive. He picked her up easily, laid her across Gwahir's back and sprang up behind her.
Back at the makeshift camp on Weather Top Aragorn prodded the hobbit's small fire to life and willed the water to heat faster. He rummaged through Gwahir's saddle bags. Surely Armedala must carry some of the most basic supplies. He drew from the pack a bundle of athelas leaves and a small flask of cordial of Imladris. He smiled slightly– for the first time since he had seen his only sister crumpled on the ground he felt their fortunes were looking up. She was injured in her sword arm and the bone in her left arm was shattered by some heavy blow, probably by a mace, but none of these injuries were incurable. She did not appear to have been pierced by their cursed blades and with the supplies which she carried he should be able to revive her easily.
For a man as grim and rough looking as he; he set her arm with surprising gentleness. It had not been of his choosing that the last two descendants of a great race had lived their lives without ever meeting each other. He had thought of his sister, twenty-five years his junior, often. In fact, the great black horse had been a coming of age present for her eighteenth birthday. No, it had not been that he did not care about her. Their separation had been a combination of ill luck and necessity. Both of them had been fated to wander paths that had never crossed–until now. When the arm was set with all of the care and skill of a practiced healer of Elrond's house, Aragorn began bathing the icy arm with warm athelas water. The hobbits looked on with awe.
"Strider, who is she?" asked Frodo. "She saved our lives didn't she? I thought no one could kill them."
"No man can kill them. It has long been believed by the elves and my people that a woman, if she were strong and brave enough, could. She helped us greatly by driving the Nazgul away and by destroying one of them, but I fear they will think she is too badly injured to threaten them again and may return. Who is she? A princess of a house of kings. A great warrior. She is my sister."
"Sister!" Pippin choked out with a half-strangled laugh. "Well you don't look much alike– fortunately for her."
Aragorn ignored him. "Her name is Armedala Gilduril Estel Dune′dan. She is my only close relation. This is the first time we have met." He began murmuring words in the ancient language and then he poured a little of the cordial between her white lips.
Armedala felt as if she were sinking ever deeper into a bottomless ocean of cold black water. This was not what she had expected dying to feel like. Perhaps she was not dead after all. She felt no real pain, only the deep cold and the crushing darkness. Then suddenly a light appeared– far away, at the surface of this bottomless ocean. A voice seemed to call her from the distance, calling her to return, to come back. Return? Yes, there had been something-a mission, duty, a calling, path, wandering–a Ranger. They called me a Ranger she remembered. Aragorn! The haflings! The past events came back to her in a seething flood. She was no longer peacefully sinking; she was drowning in this darkness. I must get out. With an effort she forced her mind back to consciousness. Danger! Nazgul! Attack! Her instincts took over she sat up abruptly, drawing her boot knife.
Frodo and the hobbits watched stunned as the beautiful woman flew up from her position of death-like slumber with a gleaming knife clasped in her hand. Before they even had time to blink she was kneeling beside Aragorn with her knife at his throat.
Aragorn cursed his stupidity. He had carefully(obviously not carefully enough) disarmed the young Ranger, knowing that on her awakening the first thing she would remember would be the attack of the Nazgul. Of course she had to have a knife in her boot. Well this complicated matters a little. He would have to be careful what he said. Sadly, he thought that his sister had assumed this position with the ease of long practice. He did not doubt that she had slit throats this way before or that she would not hesitate to do so again if given sufficient provocation.
"I am a Ranger and a friend," he said in High Elven. Armedala did not reply, but the pressure of the knife on his throat eased slightly. "I am Aragorn." Now the knife dug into his neck with renewed vigor.
Armedala had learned from hard experience that things were not always what they seemed and that people could not be trusted. This could be a trick or a trap. "You, Halfling," she addressed Sam, "bring me my bow and an arrow." She pointed to the pile of her weapons which Aragorn had made. She stood slowly keeping her knife at her brother's neck. Then she kicked him onto the ground and planted her boot at his throat. Sam, visibly trembling, handed her the bow and arrow. She slowly nocked an arrow, surveying the group before her as she did so. Her eyes fell on Frodo. "You, what is your name?"
"Underhill, my lady. Mr. Underhill."
Armedala smiled crookedly. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Now, if you would be so kind as to tell the truth; who is this man?"
"That's Strider. Please don't kill him, miss!" cried Sam, finding his voice at last. "He's a bit strange, they say all Rangers are, but he has been protecting Mr. Frodo."
"Very well. You, Ranger, get up, but be warned; one false move and it will be your last. Hands on your head." She drew her arrow and kept it trained on Aragorn as he slowly stood and placed his hands on his head. "You say you are my brother– prove it!" She pointed to her swords. "But know this; these blades were wrought by Telchar in the dark before the dawn of time. Any who draws them save an heir of Elendil will die. If you still stand by what you said, draw them."
Aragorn was impressed by her swift thinking and her caution. He approached the swords with care, picked up the sheath and turned to face Armedala. He noticed that her face was ghastly white and her lips trembled. Then in one smooth motion he drew one of her swords.
Armedala dropped the bow and it clattered to the ground. She moved forward as if in a daze, kneeled before Aragorn, bowed her head, and murmured, "Forgive me, lord. I place myself under your command."
Aragorn took her hand and gently raised her up saying, "There is nothing to forgive, young one. You answer to no lord. I command you only as a brother. Your caution was warranted. I am very proud of you, sister. You have done deeds that will be sung of for thousands of years." He then wrapped her in an embrace meant to span the long years of their separation.
The hobbits watched with bemusement. In a very short span of time thy had seen the woman who was fondly hugging her brother go from valiant warrior to dying princess to knife wielding mania to ceremonial kneeling to begging forgiveness and now a hug. It was rather a lot to process.
Armedala turned to the hobbits. "I am sorry for the fright I must have caused you. In these dark days one cannot risk being incautious. I have been following your party for days, hoping to catch up and aid you in your attempt to arrive safely at Rivendell if you will have me."
"Yes," replied Frodo. "I think we will need all the help we can get."
Aragorn looked at his sister. "To whom have you entrusted the care of the Rangers?"
Armedala shot him a piercing gaze in return. "Halbarad. It was against his wishes, but I have absolute confidence in him. His reservations were mainly about my going off on my own with danger so close at hand. I trust there is no reason for you to be displeased with my decision. After all, I was sworn as you to guard and aid Frodo."
"I am completely satisfied with your judgment." He lowered his voice and moved closer to her. "We are vulnerable here. You know this. They fled from you, but not far. They think you injured. They will return tonight."
"There is no better place for many leagues. If we attempt to move we will give them the advantage. We must make our stand here as well as we can."
"Yes," agreed Aragorn. "We can only wait."
The two returned to the hobbits and sat with them around the small fire as night darkened about them. They cheered them with tales of happier days. Then Armedala caught a slight sound, like a low hiss. She motioned to the others to be silent. She and Aragorn looked at each other and nodded. "They are here," Aragorn whispered. "Stand in a circle with your backs to the fire. If you do not have swords arm yourselves with brands from the fire."
Then from over the edge of the small hollow they were camped in the Ringwraiths broke into the camp shrieking horribly, and planting fear in the hearts of each member of the small group. They fought back bravely, and things seemed a little brighter when they all noticed how the four Nazgul seemed reluctant to come within reach of Armedala's blades. At first no one noticed that Frodo had disappeared. Then they all heard him cry out in pain and almost immediately after that the Nazgul fled into the night. The next thing they noticed was Frodo lying unconscious on the ground clutching his shoulder. Aragorn rushed over to him while Armedala went off into the night to determine whether their enemy was indeed gone.
In an hour Armedala returned to her companions. "What news?" cried Aragorn as she approached the fire.
"They are gone. I do not know why or why they were not all here, but they have left. We are not in danger tonight at least."
"This is why they have left," Aragorn answered holding the hilt of a knife out to her.
Armedala gasped. "A Morgul blade! They think he will soon be theirs. How is he?"
"As well as can be expected. He is resting now. I only hope he can hold out until we can reach Rivendell, but that is at least a fortnight away. Go and do what you can for him."
Flight to the Ford
Armedala walked over to Frodo and placing her hand on the wound in his shoulder murmured a song in High Elven. The next morning they set off again on their journey toward Rivendell with Frodo riding on the back of Gwahir and Armedala walking along beside.
The following days passed with Frodo becoming weaker as the piece of the blade which had remained in the wound strove to turn Frodo into something like the Wraiths, bent to the will of Sauron. The party proceeded with caution, never certain that their enemies were not waiting to ambush them.
On the final day of their journey Aragorn suddenly stopped abruptly and motioned the rest of the party to do the same. They halted warily and Aragorn motioned silently to Armedala to inspect the path ahead. The road curved sharply offering no view. She would be seen before she could see if she went that way. Armedala entered the woods on the side of the road skirting behind tree trunks so swiftly and silently that she seemed to melt into the shadows. Finally she reached the last tree. She began easing around the trunk of the large tree, but before she could see anything someone grabbed her and pressed a knife to her throat.
"Do not move," the stranger said. He moved into Armedala's line of vision. Then he smiled and lowered his knife. "Armedala," he cried embracing her.
"Glorfindel," she said warmly, "I am very glad to see you." She signaled to Aragorn that all was well and the rest of the group joined Armedala and the elf lord.
Glorfindel looked at Frodo, who was looking very much worse for the wear, with concern. "The only one who can help him now is Elrond. We must get him to Rivendell as quickly as possible. You are in danger. The enemy is behind and before you. I think they mean to cut you off at the Ford. Frodo's best chance would be to take my horse, Asfaloth, and ride with all speed to the Fords. Once he has crossed the river the power of my people will prevent the servants of evil from following."
"Frodo is in no condition to ride, Glorfindel. He will never be able to stay on Asfaloth in a race against death! Sending him off alone is foolhardy!"
"You have traveled far, braved many dangers, and there has long been peace between our houses. That is why I will forgive your presumption in calling me foolhardy; Armedala Dune'dan. You may be a princess and the last Numenorean, but I was alive before the race of Numenoreans was founded. I saw its beginning, and now its end dares to insult an elf lord of the house of the Firstborn. I hope you have a better suggestion than the one you have so unwisely scorned," Glorfindel said sternly.
Armedala realized she had made a grave error. For all their apparent gaiety, the pride of the elves was not to be trifled with. The last thing she wished to do was incur the wrath of one of the Firstborn, but she had the pride of her own race to consider. It would not do to seem to be a cringing subservient. She was keenly aware of Aragorn standing behind her with bated breath. Now was not the time to start a quarrel between the elves and the Dunedain. The enemy was coming and they were wasting time on formalities. She inclined her head stiffly and said, "Forgive me, lord. I spoke without considering the import of my words; a failing which, I believe, your race considers common to ours. I offer no excuse, and ask only that if you consider further retribution necessary for the satisfaction of honor you defer it until we have got Frodo safe to Rivendell." Her words were contrite but the considerable hauteur with which she spoke them was not lost on any of the group.
Glorfindel inclined his head and answered with equal dignity, "I am satisfied. We will not speak of the matter again, princesse. If you have a suggestion I am willing to hear."
"I will take Frodo. Gwahir will bear us both easily and as swiftly as Asfaloth. I will protect him."
"Go then. There are four behind you. Ride swiftly!"
Armedala leaped to Gwahir's back and drew her sword in her right hand. With a look she silenced Aragorn's objections. Glorfindel lifted Frodo up in front of her and she steadied him with her left hand. "Noro lim!" she cried as Gwahir sped towards the fords.
They had not ridden long before she was aware that they were being closely pursued, but the ford was in sight. She urged Gwahir on. From the trees on both sides of the river more Wraiths appeared attempting to cut off their flight. She did not stop to fight; she merely rode keeping a firm grip on Frodo who was fading fast. She feared that even if she got him to Rivendell it would still be too late. They rode. She did not think they would make it. The Nazgul were closing in. They were almost at the bank of the river. She urged Gwahir to move faster still. The Witch King himself blocked their path. Gwahir swerved and the slipped between him and the Wraith on the right. They were so close– close enough to touch. She blocked a blow from the wraith on their right with her sword, but their left side was defenseless and Armedala did not dare let Frodo go. She felt a searing pain and looked down to seen the tip of a sword protruding from her lower left side. Then the blade dissolved. The wound began to bleed, looking like water on her dark robes. She felt no more pain, only chilling cold. The world began to grow dark. Still she rode clinging to the knowledge that she had a mission to fulfill. They were across the river now. It was swelling in flood behind them. They were ascending the path from the ford to Rivendell. Only a little farther. Only a little farther. She willed herself to hang on. She still rode swiftly, uncertain now whether the enemy still could pursue or not. Everything was growing dim from the combined power of the Nazgul and loss of blood.
She was within sight of Rivendell. The elves must have heard their approach for a great crowd of them was gathered. With one last supreme effort she leaped off Gwahir with Frodo in her arms. "See to the hafling," she cried, "this is the Bearer. He was wounded by a Morgul blade a fortnight ago. He cannot last much longer." Frodo was grabbed from her and all of the older elves and those skilled in healing hurried inside. She was left with a handful of younger elves and a tall blond one who did not appear to be from Rivendell at all. What did it matter? Everything was fading; it was growing dark. She put her hands to her side and without warning collapsed on the ground. The watching elves realized with horror that her cloak and hands were soaked with blood.
In the House of Elrond
Armedala blinked uncertainly. Where was she? She sat up and looked around. Then she heard a soft chuckle from beside her. "Awake at last? That was quite a scare you gave us. We thought we had lost you."
"Where is Frodo?" she demanded.
"He's fine, better than you, actually," Glorfindel said soothingly.
"And Aragorn?"
"He has scarcely left your side these five days. This morning I persuaded him to get some rest."
"Five days? But I feel quite well."
"That is only due to the intense efforts of every senior member of this household along with those of your brother and Gandalf."
"You?"
"Of course, foolish child. I have been your primary healer."
"I'm sorry. After I insulted you on the road I thought…"
"That I would continue to hold a grudge? That is a failing which, I believe, your race considers common to ours. Think of it no more. It would be a sorry thing if one who has lived thousands of years could not forgive the insult of such a child as you are, Armedala Wraithslayer. You have survived the blade of the Witch King and destroyed forever one of his minions. You have the respect of the Elder Race, Armedala Gilduril, not because of who your ancestors were; but because of what you have done. Your father and mother would be proud of you."
"Thank you, Glorfindel Finrael. I apologise, sincerely this time. Truly, you are great in the house of your fathers." Glorfindel smiled at her and left to inform the household of her awakening.
Aragorn, Gandalf, Elrond and the hobbits were pleased to hear she had awakened at last. Aragorn had looked very pale and preoccupied when her told how glad he was that she was well. He only looked himself when he was telling her how worried he had been and that she had nearly died. Glorfindel allowed her to get out of bed provided she did not overexert herself. She dressed in a dark silk tunic and trousers with her dagger belted at her waist. She plaited her hair into one long braid and wore a thin silver band on her head. Her clothing was simple, but without realizing it she looked every inch the princess.
"If you are not too weary," Glorfindel said when he returned, "there is one more visitor who would like very much to see for himself that you are indeed alive. I think you owe him an apology for frightening him so terribly when you collapsed, bleeding at his feet the instant every elf who could have cared for you left. He did his best, however; and probably saved your life."
"Very well. I will see him. Do I know him?"
"He is a son of King Thranduil, of Mirkwood. Legolas Greenleaf."
"I know King Thranduil, but I have not met his son. Show him in if you will."
Glorfindel left and returned with the elf she dimly remembered seeing as she collapsed on her arrival. He said formally, "Your Highness, may I present Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood." Legolas bowed deeply. "Prince Legolas, may I present her highness, Princesse Armedala Gilduril Dune'dan, sister of Aragorn, of Arnor." Armedala curtsied ceremoniously after the fashion of the people of Gondor. "I leave you now. Princesse, your men are at the door if you have need of anything."
Armedala studied the elf in front of her carefully. She had seen many elves before, but this one was different. He stood out from the others somehow. He was dignified, but not supercilious. He seemed kingly without flaunting it. Well, that was probably because he was from Mirkwood. She was not so familiar with those elves. "Well your highness,"
"Please, call me Legolas," he interrupted.
Yes, she thought, this elf was definitely different from the ones she had been raised with. Perhaps they could be friends. Armedala had never had a friend before. Her lifestyle had not admitted them. She smiled. "Very well, Legolas, and since his lordship Glorfindel has left us I can, I suppose, dispense with formality enough to say that you may call me Armedala." They both laughed. "Legolas," she began again, "I believe I owe you an apology. I am sorry to have startled you so the other day. And, according to Glorfindel, your quick actions saved my life. You have my gratitude and that of my people. You will be rewarded. I shall fulfill your reasonable request."
"I did not act for a reward, Armedala Gilduril. I would have asked none. Indeed I can think of nothing I desire, except perhaps one thing which does not fall in the category of reasonable requests," he said, staring intently at Armedala.
"I would hear what this unreasonable request is," she answered, looking at him in the same way. "A life debt is not to be taken lightly. It should be repaid, if possible."
"Your friendship."
"My friendship? This is your unreasonable request? You would have had it anyway. I am honored. Yes, Legolas Greenleaf, we shall be friends."
"Thank you, Armedala Gilduril. Now I must go. Glorfindel ordered me strictly not to stay so long as to tire you."
"I hope we meet again soon," she said as he left. What a strange, delightful elf. Yes, they would be friends. In spite of Glorfindel's protests, her next guest was not to be denied.
Aragorn entered the chamber and seated himself near her. "I believe that is your desire to be made a knight of Arnor?"
"It is."
"You ought, by rights, to have been knighted when you returned with the swords Gilduril. That was many years ago now."
"I could have had I not been determined to await your arrival, brother."
"Yes, I know. I am sorry that I could not come. But I am here now. We could perform the ceremony tomorrow. The household of Elrond could attend and there would be a feast afterwards."
"I would like that. Aragorn, did Elladan or Elrohir ever speak to you about my wish to also become a Guardian of the Star? You cannot deny that I have shown myself worthy."
"Yes, they told me. I am willing to perform that ceremony tomorrow as well. Perhaps after the feast. Speaking of the elf-twins, they have returned. They send you their greetings."
At evening the next day after a great deal of preparations Armedala was ready for the ceremony. She was dressed in white and in the elfish fashion. She wore a shirt and jerkin over her trousers, belted at the waist with her dagger belt. She wore no mail or armor of any kind and also wore no swords. She wore Ranger boots rather than elven slippers, though. Over this she wore a black velvet cloak which fastened at her left shoulder with the same star brooch she had worn when Aragorn first met her. The back of the cloak was embroidered with silver thread in the shapes of a rayed star, a crown, and a tree. Arwen herself had assisted her in braiding and pinning her hair and then placing a silver tiara with a star on the front on her head. She had four attendants all of whom were dressed completely in white. They would walk with her; two before, two behind. The two before were the twin sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. The two behind were her cousin Halbarad and Prince Legolas. She knew that Aragorn would be dressed in complete reverse of herself– black jerkin, shirt, and trousers with a white cloak embroidered in black. His two attendants, Glorfindel and Elrond would be dressed in black.
The group left Armedala's chambers walking in a stately procession. They entered the great hall were all of the elves of Rivendell, their guests, and the Dunedain were gathered. They were group to both sides of the hall leaving a wide avenue down the middle. As they reached the end of the hall where Aragorn was waiting Elladan and Elrohir stepped to the side. "Kneel." Glorfindel commanded. Armedala obeyed.
Aragorn stepped forward. "Armedala Gilduril Estel Dune'dan, daughter of Arathorn, do you wish to become a knight of the Dunedain of Arnor?"
"I do."
"Do you swear to uphold the oath of the Knights of Arnor in life or in death?"
"I do."
"Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that you disgrace not the name of your fathers. Speak the truth always even if it leads to your death. Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong. That is your oath." Then without warning he struck her a hard backhanded blow to the face. "And that is so you will remember it." He took a ring from Elrond and placed it on Armedala's finger. "In keeping with your heritage I present to you the ring of Beren, son of Barahil." He then took her swords from Glorfindel and handed them to Elladan. "I bestow on you also the Swords that were Lost as a reminder of your valiant deeds." He then offered her his hand and said, "Lady Armedala, rise; a knight of the Dunedain of Arnor." The hall shook with the cheers of the crowd, for in both of them was the dignity which their race once held renewed.
For that night the trouble and danger of the world outside was forgotten in the house of Elrond as they feasted and celebrated. When all but the most determined merrymakers had retired, Glorfindel came to Armedala and taking her by the arm said, "Come. All is prepared. The Guardians await you." She followed him somewhat apprehensively. Glorfindel led her to the lower levels of the house and finally paused outside a door she had always known to be locked. They entered a small antechamber where Glorfindel motioned to a screen partitioning off part of the room. "Go behind there and put on the clothes laid out for you." Armedala found a pair of pants like the ones she was wearing, but black and instead of a shirt and jerkin there was a garment not unlike the modern tank top and a black doublet with sleeves. There was also a pair of leather gauntlets and her cloak which she had cast off during the festivities. Once she had put on the clothes, Glorfindel opened the door into the next chamber and led her into another room. "Come," he said as he led the way to the end of the hall where Aragorn stood alone. On both sides of the room were men she knew– the border guards, Halbarad, Elladan, Elrohir, several other elves of Rivendell, a few other Rangers, Legolas of Mirkwood who smiled as she passed him, and one elf of Lorien, Haldir.
"Kneel," Aragorn commanded. Armedala knelt in front of her brother for the second time that night.
"Do you, Armedala Gilduril Estel Dune'dan, Wraithslayer, knight and chieftainess of the Dunedain of Arnor, princess of the line of Elendil, bearer of the swords Gilduril, daughter of Arathorn, wish to become a Guardian of the Star?"
"I do."
"You wish to become a Guardian. Can you also bear the responsibility and pain of that calling?"
"I can."
"Is there any of this company who thinks this woman unworthy to join our ranks?" None answered him.
Aragorn turned again to his sister. "Do you swear to fight for the freedom of Middle Earth, unwavering, unshrinking, even in the face of certain death?"
"I do."
"Do you swear to fight against evil in all its forms, though you be outmanned, outmaneuvered, and without hope?"
"I do."
"Do you, as a princess in a line of kings, swear to be the first in every hopeless charge, the last in every desperate retreat? To lead your people by example rather than word?"
"I do."
"Do you swear to give your life to protect the innocent?"
"I do."
"If ever, Princesse, you should come to rule men as a queen rather than a captain of armies; do you swear to be still as selfless, just, and faithful?"
"I do." Her words echoed in the silent hall.
"Then I, Aragorn Estel Telcontar Dune'dan, rightful king of Gondor and Arnor, head of this Order, and your elder brother, in the presence of these witnesses, name you a Guardian of the Star."
"There only remains for you to receive the mark of the Guardians. Glorfindel, remove her cloak and doublet. All Guardians receive a mark on their left shoulder in the shape of a star of Elendil. This is painful, but you have braved worse." He took a small brand which Elrohir had brought to him from the fire where it had been heating. Haldir came forward and took Armedala's hands in his own. Then Aragorn pressed the red-hot metal onto her shoulder. Her face contorted with pain, but she did not cry out or struggle. Soon it was over and the elves hurried to but salves and bandages on the wound. Glorfindel gave her back her doublet and cloak, and Haldir of Lorien poured some elf-whiskey down her throat.
She stood up and waved the anxious elves away. "I am fine. It was not as terrible as a wraith blade nor as painful as an orc whip." The council of Guardians did not linger long after that as it was very late. Many of the elves, even the haughty Haldir congratulated her. Her brother alone remained silent and grim. "Is he always like this?" she asked Glorfindel. "Usually," he replied, but Armedala did not miss the concerned look which belied his words.
Parting of Ways
The next morning the council of Elrond met and it was decided that the only way to destroy the awful Ring of Power was to bring it to the fires of Mount Doom in the middle of Sauron's kingdom. That afternoon Aragorn came to his sister in the walk outside the house of Elrond where she was sitting.
"Will you go with Frodo?" Armedala asked.
"Yes," he answered. "But you will not."
"Not?"
"No. You will stay here in Rivendell under the protection of Elrond."
"What madness is this, Aragorn? Am I not a knight and a Guardian? Have I not killed one of the nine and survived the blade of the Witch King?"
"You are also my sister and still a child! This is a journey from which we may never come back. I will not have the last of the Numenoreans perishing unknown in the Wilderness!"
"By that reasoning you ought to stay as well. After all you are the king- not me!" she retorted with considerable heat."
"I am a Ranger and this is a mission. You are not coming. This is my final word."
"You are a Ranger? You are also a king whether you are brave enough to admit it or not!"
"Are you calling me a coward? You arrogant little-"
"Perhaps I am! I didn't ask to be born, Aragorn. I didn't deliberately force you become the one of the prophecy! Blaming me for what I had no control over is the act of a coward!"
"But you enjoy it don't you? You like your destiny! You think you could do a better job than me! You have been allowed to run wild. The elves and even my own Rangers have indulged your every fancy. They have encouraged you to play warrior; urging you behave as no self-respecting princess of our race would dream of. This daydream is over! It's time for you to wake up and realize you are not what you have been allowed to think you are! You are a woman, and the women stay home when the men go off to war! You will remain in Rivendell!"
"I have not been raised as a trembling housewife to sit quietly at home and accept my fate unquestioning! Behavior unsuited to a self- respecting princess you say? I wish I had known that when I was saving your worthless life on Weather Top. It would have saved me a great deal of pain and bother. Next time, I assure you, I will gladly just let you die."
He placed his hand on his sword and quick as lightning she drew hers. When a group of elves and Gandalf found them, attracted by their shouts, each had their sword at the other's throat.
"What's going on here? Lower your blades!" They obeyed reluctantly but did not sheath their swords.
"I return to my father's house at Lake Evendim," Armedala said haughtily putting her hand to her neck where a thin scratch was bleeding.
"You aren't going anywhere," Aragorn growled.
"I beg your pardon, Sir," she said with supreme indifference. "but you have no control over me. I cannot come with you to the Black Land if you will not have me, but I answer to no lord."
"I command you as your elder brother and the head of our house!"
"Brother? I see no brother here. Only a coward. I have no brother."
"You are dead to me!" he yelled after her as she swept through the crowd.
Armedala turned and looked at Aragorn with cold fury. "You will need me Aragorn. You will be alone, without hope, and about to die; and I will not be there. You will regret this; I swear it by the Valar." She pronounced the words like they were some grim malediction, then turned again and left. Within half an hour she had prepared for the journey to Arnor. Several of the elves had tried to speak to her, but she had ignored them all. The surprised elves realized the sister could be quite as grim and dour as her brother when angered.
As she was ready to mount Gwahir, a tall form appeared in the doorway of the stables. "Are you alright?" a musical elf-voice asked.
"Yes," she lied.
"Then why do you run from your fears?"
She stared at Legolas, unwilling to return a scathing response to his seemingly frank concern, but unable to think of any more logical retort. So she contented herself with saying nothing and looking haughty.
To her surprise the Legolas did not seem to be cursed with the loquaciousness common to the elves for he did not press the matter. He merely said, "I hope our paths cross again, Armedala."
"As do I, Legolas," she answered. She turned from him, mounted Gwahir, and galloped away. In spite of herself, tears streamed down her face.
Back at Rivendell a solitary figure in the highest tower watched her departure. As she vanished from view he sat down heavily and hid his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved with sobs.
Armedala had ridden for perhaps an hour when she heard another horse approaching swiftly from behind her. She turned Gwahir around, drew both of her swords, and waited.
Soon two riders appeared around a curve in the road. Both wore deep hoods which shaded their faces. Gwahir, sensing his rider's tension pranced nervously. "Put those away, child, you have had enough to do with swords for today," said an unfamiliar voice in High Elven. She did not sheath her blades.
"If he has sent you to fetch me back, know that I will not come quietly."
Both riders drew back their hoods. "My lord Haldir, my lord Glorfindel," she greeted them with a formal inclination of her head.
"We only want to talk to you, Armedala. Put away your swords and let us find a place where we can sit and discuss this matter."
"All the discussion in the world will not change my mind, but I owe you a life-debt, Glorfindel. I will hear what you have to say."
When they had found a quiet place to sit, Armedala looked at the elves and said, "To what do I owe the honor of the presence of my lord Haldir? He is not well known to me among the elves."
"He was willing to come. None of the other elves wished to become involved with this conflict. Your brother is sorry, Armedala."
"Really? Did he ask you to say that? Is he so cowardly that he cannot even apologise on his own?"
"Your brother is many things, but not a coward," Haldir said sternly. "It was a grave insult to call him that."
"Oh, astutely observed, my lord. I certainly intended no insult and was unaware that any was taken." Armedala replied sarcastically.
"Princesse, that is uncalled for," Glorfindel remonstrated. "You have quarreled with your brother. I do not really think you wish to quarrel with Haldir of Lorien as well."
Armedala looked at the two elves. Both looked only concerned. Even Haldir did not look angry which was surprising considering the insult she had just given him. Immediately she felt ashamed. She wished she could wake up and find that this whole day had just been an ill dream. "Forgive me, my lord Haldir," she whispered. She put her head in her hands.
"There, there, do try to compose yourself, Armedala," Haldir said soothingly as he placed an arm around her shoulder. She looked up at them with reddened eyes.
"Aragorn meant what he said to you no more than you meant the things you said to him," Glorfindel stated. "You do not know your brother well, Armedala, so you can hardly expect to understand him. He does not understand you either." Armedala half rose and seemed about to interrupt, but Glorfindel motioned her to remain silent. "Havo dad! Just listen. What you fear most is to live and die in the shadow of your forefathers. You fear that you will never be anything in your own right. That is why Aragorn's plan to leave you at Rivendell angered you so much. You wish most of all to be more than just a princess.
"Aragorn is not like you. He fears most of all the responsibility that fell on him when you were born. He was twenty-five. He believed his parents would not have another child. He was content to be a Ranger and to forget about the king. Then you were born. There were two heirs to the throne, fulfilling the conditions of the prophecy which said that when there were two heirs; the eldest would restore the line of Elendil by making himself king in Gondor. He never asked to be king. He doesn't want to be king. He blames you even though he knows it is not your fault. He is angry because you are his opposite while you are angry because you think him a coward.
"That is not all. He is also terrified of losing you. Before he had even met you, he watched you nearly die. The confrontation with the Witch King did nothing to alleviate his fears.
"There is one way that you are both alike. You both fear that the failings of your forbearers will become yours. I say this to you; you are the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. You are not bound by his faults.
"He wants to keep you safe. You were both unfair to each other today. But I suppose nothing I can say would convince you to return with us and attempt reconciliation?"
"No. I thank you both, but no. I return to Lake Evendim. The Rangers will return there within weeks. Perhaps we will still be able to play some part in this ere it is over. Some wounds are too deep to be healed by mere words. I will not return and grovel for forgiveness. He would not do so if he were in my shoes."
"Each as stubborn and proud as the other," Haldir muttered with a curse. "Farewell to you then, Armedala Wraithslayer. May a star shine upon you." Armedala bowed, but to her surprise, Haldir drew her into an embrace.
"Farewell, Glorfindel," she said. The elf-lord kissed her gently on the forehead, and then both mounted their horses and galloped off into the dusk.
Armedala returned to Arnor without incident. She was greeted warmly by her people, most of whom she had not seen for many years. About three weeks later the thirty Rangers who had been at Rivendell returned to Arnor. Soon after their return Halbarad requested an audience with her.
"Hail and well met, Halbarad. Are you come to replace me as the leader of the Dunedain?"
"No, my lady. Nothing was said of you or your position. Actually I am not exactly sure what your position is. I hoped you would offer some explanation of what happened in Rivendell to me and the men, because no one there would speak of it."
"I suppose I owe it to you," she conceded. "Aragorn and I quarreled over his refusal to allow me to join the company which traveled to destroy the One Ring. We exchanged harsh words, and I left Rivendell. I am now the acting leader here. Please do not press me for further detail. The memory is painful to me. I plan to implement a program in which every man at arms or able to bear them will be given further training. Our part in this deadly game is not ended, Halbarad. I do not want to be caught unprepared. Will you convey what I just told you to the men?"
"I will, my lady," he said, bowing deeply. To him it seemed as if in the three weeks since he had last seen her Princesse Armedala had grown up. He smiled to himself. A training program? It did not sound as if it was his cousin's plan to quietly sit out the impending war at Lake Evendim. Aragorn may have kept her from following them on the quest to destroy the Ring, but he would be sorry. They had quarreled over it? Oh yes, Armedala would come out ahead. She always did, no matter what the situation. Poor Aragorn; he did not know Armedala as well as Halbarad did. He was going to wish he had kept his sister safe at his side.
The Grey Company
For almost two months, under the command of Armedala, the Dunedain trained rigorously. She felt as if she were waiting for something or someone. Then in the beginning of the month of February, Armedala had a dream. In it Galadriel, lady of Lorien, spoke to her and said, "Heed me well, Princesse. These two months you have prepared, you know not what for. The time is come. The time which you fear; the thing you prophesied in your anger approaches. Nay, do not reproach yourself. You did not cause it. It is given to your race and mine to perceive things far off. You saw it without knowing what it was that you saw. I say this to you, Wraithslayer; heed me well. Our fates are not set. We have no future but what we make for ourselves. If you gather the Dunedain with haste you may be able to stop this deadly course of events. Go to Helm's Deep in Rohan and you will have a chance to atone amply for your wrongs. May a star shine upon you, for you will walk in darkness; and in saving another you are fortunate if you do not lose yourself."
Armedala did not have to think long about what she would do. She knew that this was what she had been waiting for. She could show Aragorn that she was sorry for the unforgiveable things she had said. Yes, they would go to Rohan. She roused the Dunedain and called them all together. "Every man at arms stand before me! The time you have trained for is come! Show now your loyalty to Middle Earth and the heirs of Isildur." She told them of her vision and then looked at the men assembled before her. There were around one hundred twenty-five men. "They are too many for haste," she said to Halbarad who stood beside her.
"All who are younger than I stand aside. Your chance to die valiantly will come, but it is not this day.
"All who are over the age of forty-five, join them.
"Any of you who have wives with child, or large families, or wish for some other reason to remain may do so. You will not be counted cowards. We ride into great danger." She surveyed the group before her. There were about fifty of the best men left.
"The city must empty. Those men who do not ride with me I charge to bring the women and children safe to Rivendell. I will have none stay here. I wish you to be on your way within a week.
"To those who come with me. Prepare yourselves quickly. I wish to leave in three days at the most. We travel swift and light, saving only armor, weaponry, and enough food to supply us at times when we can get none. Let all make haste!"
Two days later she surveyed the company once again. They made an impressive sight. All were mounted on horses the Rohirrim might have envied. Each wore light mail after the elfish fashion: a breast plate, greaves, and gauntlets of metal beaten thin and very light; but sturdy enough to turn an axe. They carried their helms. They all bore swords, spears, and elven bows and arrows. Over their armor each wore a hooded cloak of gray fastened upon the left shoulder with a brooch like a rayed star. "Ride now!" she cried as Gwahir pranced in eagerness to be off. "Ride for Middle Earth! For your homes and your loved ones! We are the Men of the West! We are the blood of kings! No enemy shall stand before us!" The men greeted her words with a loud cheer and they were off.
Halbarad rode at Armedala's side. "For what do you ride, princesse? To cast aside the shadow of your forefathers? To undo the wrong of Isildur? To save Middle Earth?"
"I? I ride for Aragorn. If he comes to harm while this quarrel stands between us I will never forgive myself."
"You truly are growing up, Princesse. But there is one thing I must ask you. You do not plan to pressure your brother into shouldering his responsibility as king do you? He fears deeply that he will repeat the faults of Isildur."
"No, Halbarad. The last time I tried that I made quite a mess of the affair. I have no desire to repeat the incident. He will accept it in his own time."
The Dunedain travelled swiftly and within a short time made it to Rivendell. They would remain there for a day or two. The men and horses were in need of rest and this being the Last Homely House they would do well to rest while they could. Their arrival was unannounced and surprised the House of Elrond a great deal.
"What is the meaning of this, Princesse?" Elrond himself had come out to survey the situation.
"It would be best explained inside, my lord. My men and horses are in need of rest."
"Come in then. Your men may see to the horses." Elrond looked quite upset. Armedala had spent most of her young life in Rivendell and knew that she would rather face the wrath of Glorfindel, Lord of the Firstborn than that of Elrond Half-elven. Perhaps she should have sent a Rider before the main company to smooth the way. Then she realized that this had nothing to do with her sudden appearance. Elrond probably already knew all about her mission. The reason for her foster father's displeasure was undoubtedly the incident prior to her leaving Rivendell. The quarrel with Aragorn, drawing her sword on her elder brother, ignoring Elrond when he had attempted to reason with her as she stormed away… Yes, he had every right to be angry. She decided that perhaps the best way to avoid the full brunt of his anger (which had had two months to simmer) would be to head him off before he got fully started.
"Ada," she said as soon as they were seated inside; using the childish term of endearment rather than a more formal honorific, "I have forgiveness to ask of you."
Elrond looked at her sternly. "And?"
She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "And Lord Glorfindel, Lord Erestor, Lady Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir."
"You think yourself quite clever, Armedala. You thought you could avoid my rebuke by beating me to the draw?" Armedala looked sheepish. "I have lived several thousand years, child. I know every trick in the book. However the time is too short for me to delve too deeply into the subject of your awful behavior."
"I am sorry, Ada. I was-quite upset, but that gave me no right to behave as I did. I beg your forgiveness. I- I am about to take a journey from which I may never return. That much Galadriel revealed to me. In any case it will be long until I sit in peace at Imladris. I would have your blessing ere I go, father."
He looked kindly at her. "You have my forgiveness, daughter. As for my blessing- what blessing can I give to one who walks knowingly into the shadow? I say this to you, Wraithslayer. I know your fears. But when the time comes and you are faced with the same choice you will not repeat the error of Isildur. You will walk in darkness, but darkness will not have power over you. No shadow will ever have dominion over you, not even the shadow of your forefathers. You are the Star of the West. You will be a light to your friends, but your enemies will be blinded."
"Thank you, Ada," she said when he had finished. "Will it come true?"
"It was not a prophecy, child. It was a blessing. Our race is fading, but there is still strength enough in us to imbue a blessing with some sort of power. So, yes, in that sense I hope it does 'come true'. You will need it."
Armedala enjoyed their brief reprieve at Rivendell. She spoke to Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen. All wished her good fortune on the journey. Arwen looked sad. "Fear not, Arwen Evenstar. I will return him safe to you. And it may be that he has found himself on this journey."
"You are young, Star of the West, but you begin to become wise. May the power of the Valar go with you."
Armedala was crouching in the garden inspecting a small flower she had planted there in honor of her mother some years ago. She was startled to feel the thin blade of a sword under her chin.
"What's this?" a mocking voice drawled. "A Ranger caught off her guard? Well, well if it isn't the queen of Rangers herself. This will be a story to pass down through the ages."
Armedala smiled to herself. Then without warning she threw herself backward, knocking the elf over. She rolled and landed on top of him, disarming him and placing her own dagger at his throat. "What's this? Glorfindel, Lord of the Firstborn, over powered by a mortal whom he had at sword point? Won't this be a story for the ages." She smirked as she let Glorfindel up. They embraced.
"I am glad to hear of your mission. It is the right thing to do. I hope we will meet again, but your road is dark- I cannot see it. May the light of Elbereth guide you."
The next morning the grey company set out from Rivendell. They rode in haste, and nothing occurred to delay them. Armedala felt an increasing sense of urgency as the days passed; a gnawing fear that they might not reach Helm's Deep in time. When they reached Edoras in the early afternoon on March the sixth they found the Golden City empty.
The Battle for Helm's Deep
Armedala's fear increased. She sent scouts ahead, and urged the company forward with all speed. The scouts returned with word that the Rohirrim were fighting to hold the Hornburg, that there appeared to be Elven archers among them, that the Rohirrim were outnumbered, that they would not last the night, and that the whole army of Isengard stood between them and the King's men. In short, they believed the situation impossible. Not a quarter mile away was a ridge which overlooked the valley in which the forces of Saruman had gathered. On the opposite wall of the valley, was Helm's Deep where the army of King Theoden was attempting to stave off the unrelenting assault.
"There is a way," she told the men. "It will not be easy, but it will bring us to the bridge to the Hornburg. It is a secret way, so old that the Rohirrim themselves have forgotten it. We of longer memory have not. I traveled it once. It is a pass just large enough for horse and rider through the mountain. It is so treacherous that the Horse Lords believed only they could ever navigate it and live. It ends facing the stone bridge to the Hornburg. Your horses will have to jump the gap between the two and land safely on the bridge. It will not be easy, but we can do it.
"Light your torches! I command no man to come with me now. We ride to almost certain death. But we fight for what we hold most dear! THE DUNEDAIN HAVE RIDDEN OUT! LET OUR ENEMIES FEAR!" Her men answered with a shout and all turned their horses to follow their leader into the pass.
Aragorn had been in enough fights to know that this one was going very poorly. They had been outnumbered from the start. Eomer and most of Rohan's warriors had been banished and were by now too far away to help them. The men they were left with were farmers, not soldiers. Most were too old or too young. The arrival of Haldir and his contingent of elves had encouraged him. They were probably the best archers in Middle Earth. But still they were too few. The force that came against them was like an ocean- an ocean of Uruk-hai, an orc-goblin cross. They were as big as a man' and ruthless. They were bred to kill, and they did it well.
Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Haldir had positioned themselves on the bridge before the gates in a desperate attempt to hold off any outright assault on the gates. They had a slight advantage, but they knew it could not last.
Aragorn cursed under his breath. If they lost this battle, they lost Middle Earth. Gondor could not hold off the combined forces of Isengard and Mordor. This army had to be destroyed here in Rohan. If they could just hold on until morning, Gandalf would return with his promised aid. But now that seemed doubtful.
Their eyes were all drawn instantly to the distant ridge as small sparks of light appeared there. "A company of not more than fifty," said Legolas. "Not Uruk-hai; they ride horses."
"Perhaps some men of Théoden's?" Gimli guessed.
"It makes little difference. A company of fifty will never be able to break the lines and get through to us," Aragorn said with finality. "Look, they are gone now."
The fighters began to beat back their foes with renewed vigor getting separated from each other. With a jolt he realized that he was alone and without hope. Then he laughed at his foolishness. He certainly wasn't about to die just yet. A sound that seemed to be coming from the mountain, a sound like many horses distracted Aragorn. A particularly large Uruk-Hai emerged from the shadows behind him and swung his mace with deadly force at his helm. Aragorn crumpled. His friends watched in horror-none of them were near enough to aid him.
At that moment Armedala burst out of the end of the tunnel. Gwahir leaped the gap and landed easily on the bridge. The first think she saw was her brother falling under the mace of the huge orc and the foul creature raising its sword for the final plunge. Gwahir came to a sudden stop and she flew over his head landing on her feet with her swords drawn directly in front of the orc. She uttered a fierce cry, her blades flashed in the moonlight and the orc's head fell to the ground. She swiftly looked around for more enemies, but her fifty men had cleared the bridge.
"Help me!" she cried to Legolas as she tried to lift Aragorn onto Gwahir. She leaped up behind her brother. The Roherrim opened the gates and allowed the company to enter. They brought Aragorn into the King's chamber and she, Haldir, Legolas and Gimli knelt anxiously around him.
Halbarad explained the situation briefly to the King, who seemed willing to wait until morning for explanations-if they were still alive by then, and then led the Dunedain out to join Haldir's elves in the courtyard of the Hornburg. The orcs had managed to scale the walls and the fighting was intense.
Haldir looked up at Armedala after examining Aragorn. "I think… he is gone, my lady."
Her face became deathly white. "I was too late," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.
"If Legolas will help me, I will do everything that can be done. All hope is not lost, Armedala. He may yet be alive." She nodded mutely, looking shocked. Haldir watched the princess closely. He saw her expression flicker from shock, to grief, to guilt, before her face hardened. She looked much older, and fiercer, rather frightening actually. Her beauty seemed greater, but she was beautiful and terrible. Fire and ice. "What will you do?" he asked her.
"I am going to fight. I will command our warriors. It is what he would want me to do." She kissed her brother's forehead, then rose, turned on heel, and stalked from the room.
She leaped down from the wall and landed in the middle of the melee in the courtyard. Her swords gleamed as she slashed and hacked, mowing the Uruk-hai down like grass. The men of Rohan took heart at her appearance. She ordered some of the men to other areas to sure up the defenses. She could have gone herself, but she found an odd sort of comfort in killing orc after orc there in the courtyard. At first she fought in the style most common to her, that of the elves. She moved lightly and agilely. But as the fight wore on her style altered; she began to move more deliberately and strike harder. She had unconsciously lapsed into the fighting style of a Ranger. Those who watched her noted that her face was hard and grim, yet she looked like one born to rule kings. The elves and Rangers realized how much alike she and her brother were.
The few men who fought with the Uruk-hai that day, wild men of the hills, fled soon after the arrival of the Dunedain. A few days later, tales reached the company of how Theoden, son of Thengel, had made a league with the forces of evil. They told how the great Grey Company, a band of terrible ghost warriors, was called forth from the cursed mountain. But most of all they spoke of their leader- the Queen of Darkness herself; a fury incarnate whom no man could look on and live.
Haldir and Legolas both used all their skill in healing in attempting to revive Aragorn. Just when they had given up all hope, his eye lashes fluttered. Then he opened his eyes. "Haldir? Are we dead?"
"No, Aragorn."
"How can I be alive? I was alone, without hope, about to die, and she wasn't here."
"But she is here, Aragorn. She came in time, and saved your life."
"My sister-here?"
"Yes. With a company of the best warriors of the Dunedain. They are out there fighting. Would you like to see her?"
"Yes. I would." Haldir did not miss the small tear that gleamed in Aragorn's eye.
Armedala did not know how long she fought before she saw Haldir walking towards her. He looked happy. Her heart leaped. "He is alive. He would like to see you. I will take your place here." Armedala needed no further invitation. She took off running towards the Hornburg. She reached the high chamber of the Burg and nearly collided with Legolas.
"He is waiting for you," he said as he motioned her into the room and closed the door behind her.
Once inside the door, Armedala felt her joy quickly changing to anxiety. She hesitated, looking to the opposite side of the room where her brother looked out the window. He turned as her heard her enter. She looked into his eyes and saw there all the encouragement she needed. She ran to him and threw herself into outstretched arms. "O, my sister, my baby sister," he whispered as he gently stroked her hair.
She did not try to hold back the tears- they seemed the best way to express her sorrow, fear, guilt, and joy all at once. Aragorn also was weeping uncharacteristically. For some time they held each other thus, and then Aragorn led her to a couch where they both sat down.
"Aragorn, I…" she moved as if to rise and speak.
He held up his hand for silence. "Havo dad, mellon nín. I beg you, allow me to speak. When last we met, I said things that were unforgivable. I treated you with great unfairness. In truth, you were more worthy of this quest than I. I am sorrier than you can imagine. Indeed, no sooner had I spoken the words than I was sorry. It is a poor excuse, but I wanted to keep you safe. I also did not wish to have you with me as a constant reminder of the duty I was neglecting. To my eyes you seemed so queenly, made to rule kings- in short, everything I wished I did not have to be.
"But I am not that man who first started out on this quest. I have bidden the Ranger farewell and chosen to become the king. I will go to Minas Tirith and offer my aid to those of the White City. Perhaps if there is still a world left when all is done, I will rule there.
"You saved my life tonight. I watched you fight from this window. You were not fighting like the elves- you fought like a Ranger, and I thought I had never seen a woman so determined and regal looking. I would be honored if you and your Grey Company would accompany me to Gondor. I could use a commander such as you to fight at my side as an equal, and your men would be welcome in battle.
"What I am saying, sister, is this. I have become the king. Will you become the Ranger if we survive this? The Dunedain are not extinct yet. They will need a leader while I am in Gondor. Who better to rule Eradior than a princess of the line of Elendil? It would be as it was in the days of Isildur and Anorion; we would between us rule Middle Earth. I would sit as King in Minas Tirith, and you would be Queen at Lake Evendim. What say you, Armedala?"
"First, my brother, I wish to apologize. I was headstrong and foolish- I fear I still am. I spoke cruelly to you, and refused to heed your council. No words can erase that, but I am sorry. I hope that my actions here tonight have in some way shown the repentance that I am unsure how to express.
"As to your offer, I will of course come with you to Minas Tirith. And the Dunedain follow you. As for ruling as Queen at Lake Evendim, perhaps if we survive this war we can speak of it then. It is a good idea, but the dividing of the kingdoms proved a curse once before- it seems to me that it would be better not to do so again. Perhaps I could rule Arnor as a princess. We would rule together, but it would revert back to your heir, rather than be passed on to mine. But later, now we have a war to fight! Are you strong enough?"
"I think so. I was struck unconscious, but not badly injured otherwise. Come let us relieve Master Legolas of his eavesdropping duty. Haldir placed him at the door in case there should be a renewed outbreak of hostilities. He must think us Rangers as deaf as dwarves."