Chapter 1

The sun shone down on the company of elves as they departed from Rivendell. One of them started to sing and soon the rest joined him in a cheerful farewell to Middle-earth.

"The king has returned," said one elf to his brother. "Peace has returned, but Lord Elrond is not at peace."

"Is it any wonder? His wife went on before him to the undying lands and now that he is ready to see her again he finds that when he leaves here he will never again see his Evenstar."

"Though if he should lose her to anyone, King Aragorn is the one he would have wished it for."

"When does Elrond make his journey to the Grey Havens?"

"Who knows," replied his brother.

"How my heart yearns to see Eldamar again," said their father all of a sudden.

"Much have we heard from you of its beauty, father. We too yearn to see it. 'Twill not be long ere we do."

Lindil lagged behind listening to the talk of his brothers and looking wistfully about him at the world he would never see again.

Suddenly he stopped. His keen eyes had seen something move among the rocks like a flicker of flame.

"What is it?" asked his sweetheart, her long hair swaying as she turned and her glittering eyes filled with concern.

Lindil's gaze pierced the mountains and caught a glimpse of a grey-cloaked figure making an escape. He looked back at his company who were already some way ahead, crossing the ford.

Turning to his sweetheart he said, "Go on and join the company, Nimril. Someone seems to be following us. When I have dealt with him I will join you."

Seeing the worried look in her eyes he smiled and squeezed her hand.

"I will join you as soon as I can. Do not worry for my sake. Though I may not be as good with the bow and arrow as some, I am better than many."

Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and skipped away hurriedly to tell his brothers.

"Do not be long," she called behind her as she ran.

Lindil took out his bow and held an arrow tight between his fingers. He climbed the mountain swiftly, looking all around but there was no sign at all that anyone had been there though he was sure he had not imagined it.

"Mith lhach," he murmured.

Whoever it was, they had made a quick departure. Presently, he returned to his folk.

"Did you find aught?" asked Nimril.

He shook his head.

Though he sang merrily with them as they walked on, he was always on guard lest any danger lurk among the trees. Night came and with it came darkness but the stars of Elbereth shone brightly in the heavens and the moon was full so the elves journeyed on through the Trollshaws.

Nimril looked indeed a white brilliance in the moonlight. Her pale hair shone as she danced along to the sweet songs Lindil sang for her.

So taken with her beauty was he that he stumbled on a large stone. When he got up, he chanced to look behind him and saw the glitter of eyes in the darkness but they swiftly disappeared. Someone was following them. The dark lord may have fallen, but fell creatures still roamed Middle-earth.

"Did you see it again?" asked Nimril.

"Yes," he replied softly. "This time I shall catch it. It would not do to lead it with us to the Havens. Who knows with what mischievous intent it has followed us thus far."

"Tell the others," she replied, "They can help to catch him."

"No," replied the proud elf, "I wish not that my father or brothers suffer hurt needlessly. 'Tis but one stranger, and when I find him there will then be none."

Nimril was not assured and her heart troubled her still. Lindil took the slender soft hands of his betrothed in his own.

"Tarry not," said Lindil, "Already the company are far. Worry not for my sake. I shall return."

As he spoke he let go of her hands and held his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other.

"You must tarry not," said Nimril, "I shall wait for you always even at the Grey Havens."

"I shall not be that long."

"Perhaps."

He bid her a fond farewell and watched her radiant beauty shimmer away before he turned to look for the stranger. He had not long to look but it was not because his prey had been careless. He passed among the trees listening and making no sound when he saw a large grey troll towering above him. Leaning against one of its great stone legs was a short, cloaked and hooded figure with sword in hand. The blade glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

"I see I was expected," he said.

"Why do you follow me?"

He was surprised that the calm voice was one of a maiden's.

"That is what I should be asking," he replied, "What are you?" and then on seeing a dark curl escape from under her hood at her shoulder he added, "A halfling?"

The dark sword shook, whether from anger or mirth he could not tell, as the answer was steady.

"No. I am a woman," she said.

She stood up straight and he saw that though she was very short she was not as short as he had first supposed. She was in fact taller than the taller hobbits he had travelled back to Rivendell with a few months ago.

"Well?" she said, "I have answered your question, now answer mine."

Lindil was not used to being spoken thus. He was a of a proud family who were close to Lord Elrond himself and here was a wild woman treating him like any common man.

"I came to see why you were following," he fitted the arrow in his bow, "Speak and you shall live."

The sword wavered. He had been too far for her to thrust it through him as he got the bow ready and was still too far for her to stab at him before he loosened the arrow.

"Your talk interested me," she replied, "Has the King truly returned?"

"If he has, what then?"

She hesitated and Lindil took aim.

"Then I may return to my home."

"Where is that?"

She hesitated again before answering, "By the sea, in Dol Amroth."

He did not move and she, weary of the weight of her sword on her tense muscles slipped it back into the sheath at her waist. Lindil still did not lower the bow.

"Will you indeed shoot an unarmed maiden when she has just discovered she may return home?"

In the darkness he saw a glint of white as she smiled.

"An elf cannot be too careful," he said stowing away his bow and arrow, "Even in this age. Why do you wander the wild? Surely the Edain do not let their women roam like rangers."

"I am a ranger."

At this the elf laughed long and loud. He was so taken with mirth that he almost doubled up.

"Oh, 'tis a merry jest," he said recovering, "But truly, what do you do here thus, by yourself?"

"'Tis no jest," she replied lifting her chin and causing her hood to fall back a little so that the shadows fled from her face, "A woman may be a ranger, I have Numenorean blood."

Even in the darkness he saw that her eyes held the grey-blue of the sea, as did her cloak. She was very young, only twenty years of men as he deemed it and though she was fair she was not as fair as any elf or even the Lady Eowyn who Lindil considered the most beautiful of her race.

This maiden was clad not in a gown but in a long shirt of dark blue over which she wore a leather jerkin and a black belt. Her legs were encased in black, thick boots protected her feet and leather gauntlets bound her wrists not fully hiding her fingers. A red stone glowed among her fingers on a ring of black metal like her sword. Red in black, the sight of the ring caused his delicate brows to meet. It reminded him strangely of the eye of Sauron he had heard tell of. There was some mystery about her that his curious nature desired to solve ere he left these lands.

"Are you not too short of stature?" he said presently.

"I have some Numenorean blood, but not all. Let me pass," she said pulling the hood of her cloak to shadow her face.

Lindil stood firmly in her way.

"Then whose blood runs in your veins besides?"

"I need not explain myself to you," she replied with flashing eyes.

Immediately, her sword was drawn and pointed at his chest but he was too quick for her and the bow and arrow were back in his hands.

They stood thus for several moments, so still that anyone passing by could have easily mistaken them for statues.

The fire eventually died out of the lady's eyes and her face softened. She was loth to fight with so fair an elf and as she could not do without sleep, as could the company of elves she had been following for days, she was quite weary.

Lindil was also wavering. When elves and men were beginning to trust one another again was it right to kill one? And a maiden at that. He was suspicious of her yet. He did not trust her secrecy. He had never heard tell of a lady ranger and surely King Aragorn, the chief of the men of the West, would know of her. No, he could not let her wander alone to do what mischief she might.

"I mean no mischief to your people," she said as if reading his thoughts, "We do not even travel in the same direction. You travel West and I to Gondor. Let us part ways now so that I may return to my folk and you to yours. Surely someone awaits you."

The lady lowered her sword and stood it on the ground. Lindil felt the justice of her words. He gazed to his right and decreed the glint of his sweetheart's hair in the distance. He turned back to the lady and tried to read her intentions in her eyes.

"You may go," he said finally, lowering his bow, "But now it seems not wise to let you wander through the wilderness without escort."

Whether or not she read the true intention behind his words he could not tell but a smile came to her lips that made him feel uneasily that she knew of his suspicions, his real reason for wanting to follow her.

"I can protect myself," she said, "I have done so for many years and my sword has tasted the blood of many orcs and other fell creatures," she sliced the air with her sword and suddenly her face grew grim, "Speaking of which…"

Lindil needed not for her to continue. He looked to his left from whence he had come himself and saw the hideous creatures pouring out of the Misty Mountains, glistening in the moonlight like foul slugs.

"Yrch!" he said, "There are twenty-three of them. How you knew they were coming I do not know but now you had best leave and be on your way. They travel fast."

The lady put away her sword and disappeared into the forest while Lindil ran out of the forest just near enough to the orcs for his arrows to reach them. Swiftly he shot three arrows and three of the orcs fell. They seemed to see him and sped in his direction so he took cover in the shadows of the trees from where he shot six more arrows in quick succession. To his surprise, ten orcs fell. He paused in the act of shooting and heard from behind him a whistle in the wind. An arrow shot past him closely followed by another though only one found its target.

Moving back into the forest he saw the lady sitting in a tree stowing away a small bow and a handful of arrows into the bag at her back. Seeing his face full of fury she alighted from it.

"What do you do still here," he said angrily, "You must leave."

The lady said nothing but drew her sword.

"Go while there is time!" he said.

She looked straight at him with a strange light in her eyes and advanced towards him with her sword held high. The sudden change in her expression from calm amusement to intense rage stunned him so that he did not act as quickly as he normally would. His hand fumbled for his own sword but she was already upon him. The black sword swung through the air but he did not feel the cold steel on his neck. Instead he heard a ping and saw a dart fall to the ground beside him. It had bounced of the sword before it could reach him.

"Fool," she muttered and stood waiting for the orcs to come.

A new energy surged through her limbs and a fire blazed in her eyes. She laughed loudly when the orcs came into sight and advanced on them so suddenly from the shadows that two lost their heads before they even saw her.

Lindil smiled and unsheathed his own slender sword. He was quick and strong and fought with such concentration that he felt almost surprised when his glance fell on the lady fighting beside him. Soon the ground around them was littered with orcs and their rolling heads.

Lindil ran his sword through the last orc and cleaned his sword before sheathing it.

"What good fortune there were so few of them," he said.

He turned for the lady's agreement but she was leaning against a tree clutching her sword arm. The feathered shaft of a black arrow was visible through her bloodstained fingers. She yanked it out with a cry of agony that scared sleeping birds into sudden flight and fell to the ground in a swoon.

Now, Lindil was from the house of Elrond and had learnt much in the art of healing. He removed her sleeve, bathed the wound with water from his flask and did all he could so that when she awoke at midday, though she looked pale, the pain was weak.

She sat up and looked about silently as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight making its way through the branches above her. Lindil made no comment about her apparent inability to protect herself. Absorbed as he was in the fight he had not failed to notice that more than once she had killed an orc that was attacking him rather than one near herself. He suspected that it was on one of these occasions that the arrow had been shot.

The lady yawned and stood up, swaying only slightly. Her hood was down and her dark curls tumbled down her back. She bound them with a strip of leather and washed her face with water from her flask.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Must you know?" she asked with a smile.

"I must know what to call you."

"You will not be with me for long," she replied, "What was it you said when you saw me in the mountains?"

"Ah. So you heard me."

"I hear a good many things."

The lady sat back down and took food from her bag to eat.

"Mith lhach I said, meaning grey flame, for your hair was aflame but was hidden in grey. Now I would say it of your eyes for grey as they are I have seen them fire up in anger."

The lady laughed.

"Then Mithlhach you shall call me still. What is your name?"

"Lindil. I do not feel the need to hide my name in the manner of dwarves."

He thought he saw a brief flicker in her eyes.

"But then you will not be in these lands for long."

She wrapped her food up again and returned it to her bag before standing up.

"Farewell now," she said, "Have a safe journey to the havens. I thank you for…" she pointed at the bandage around her arm.

As she walked eastward Lindil followed her.

"I shall accompany you," he said.

"Why? Do you think me weak even after you saw my blade at work?"

"No. You did indeed fight valiantly but you are injured and may not be able to handle a sword as well as you did then."

"You underestimate your healing abilities," she replied, "My arm is as good as new. I thank you for you help and praise but I wish not to be indebted to you further."

"'Tis I who am indebted to you," he said, remembering the orc dart.

"Nonsense. You would not have been there had I not detained you."

"I followed you at my own will so 'tis my own fault."

"Had I not let my curiosity lead me to follow you so closely I could have hidden better and you need not have seen me to follow me."

"This is idle talk. I shall come with you. You may ignore me if you wish."

They walked a little in silence. The sunlight touched Mithlhach's hair with loving fingers and left red flames among the dark curls. When she suddenly turned to look at Lindil he saw the flames were not only on her head.

"Go back to your love and journey to the land where you belong. What right do you, an elf, have to meddle in the life of a woman?" she said angrily.

Lindil stopped walking and Mithlhach continued. She felt both relief and guilt seeing the anger in his eyes. She knew he had not meant to meddle but she knew no other way to be rid of him except by wounding his pride, which she shrewdly guessed he had in abundance. She walked east and came to the end of the Trollshaws and saw the mountains ahead of her reaching for the darkening sky. Already it was late and she was weary. Her arm throbbed at her side. She climbed up a tree with difficulty and a great deal of pain and took a blanket from her bag. She found a large flat branch and made a bed of it, as was her wont before settling to sleep.

As she lay half-dreaming she heard as if from a distance the sound of waves crashing in the sea. Gradually a picture seemed to appear mistily before her eyes. It was Dol Amroth, tall and splendid. Standing by the shore looking down at the waves was a fair young man, his dark hair flying in the wind and a deep sorrow in his dark grey eyes. He was dressed in mail and carried a helm under his arm. A tear made its way slowly down his cheek and she reached towards him to brush it away when of a sudden she awoke. The pain in her arm had opened her eyes and she could see stars winking at her from between the leaves above her.

Although she was awake she could still hear the music of the sea. As the sound came nearer she realised it was not really the sea. She rolled over and gazed down from the branch. Almost directly below her Lindil appeared singing softly to himself in his own beautiful tongue.

"So you follow me still," she said loudly.

Lindil looked up and smiled at her.

"What do you do there perched in a tree like a cat ready to pounce?"

"I sleep," she replied.

"Then truly from Dol Amroth you must be."

"Did you doubt it?"

Lindil sat down under the tree with his bow laid across his knees and an arrow in his hand.

"Will you not sleep?" Mithlhach asked him.

"I do not need it," he replied.

Already his mind had begun to wander in strange elvish dreams.

"As you wish," she replied, falling back to sleep.