One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Why did she always pace in five steps? Gilraen wondered. One, two, three, four, five. Was it because it was the space she had available? But even when she had more space, it was always the same. One, two, three, four, five. Or was it just that Númenóreans did everything in fives? Gilraen thought with a brief flash of humor. Five point island, five point attack, five point star.
She shook off these thoughts and looked south again, stilling her feet reluctantly. It was unbecoming for a lady, her mother had always told her, and even more for the dowager chieftainess, who nominally held the position of leadership alongside her cousin while her son was away.
But still! She had never been able to control her feet, Gilraen fumed as she resumed pacing, when Estel was hurt or in danger. Her pacing had been legendary in Rivendell. There had been soft jests that she was going to wear a groove in the floor just outside the healing wing, which was as much an acknowledgment of Estel's almost unparalleled abilities to get himself into trouble as it was of her constant pacing when he was doing something stupid.
Of course, there was nothing that physically told her he was in trouble. Nothing but the choking dread and darkness that enveloped her every time she thought of her son, the same despair that had been haunting her waking moments and her dreams for the past three days, she thought sarcastically. Something was wrong. Or, Gilraen amended, something was going to be wrong.
Her line was strongly blessed with the foresight of her kindred. And right now, all her senses were screaming that her son was going to be in danger, she needed to find him, she needed to help him, he was going to be in danger-
She stopped that train of thought with a sharp exhale. Yes, Aragorn was going to be in danger. A good deal of danger. Yet there was nothing she could do. Nothing but pace…
"Lady Gilraen! Lady Gilraen!" A messenger boy, no older than thirteen, ran up to her, panting slightly. "The Rangers say there are horsemen approaching."
Gilraen raised an eyebrow. It was unusual that they would inform her of such a thing. "Alright lad," she said simply, "I'm coming." She followed the boy at a more stately pace. It wouldn't do for a lady of her stature to be seen running…Unless she wanted to start a panic, that is. Although she would find it amusing, it would not be fair to the others in the settlement.
She reached the way station, hidden among the trees at the top of the rise. Across the gently rolling hills three horses were approaching. Two dark, one white. The riders were the same, two dark, one gleaming gold. Though too far away to make out details, the breeze was blowing towards them, and on it Gilraen could faintly hear bells ringing.
She nodded her head sharply. "It's elves," she said bluntly. The ranger in charge of the station eyed her.
"You're certain?" he asked.
"Listen," she said impatiently. "Do you hear the bells? The only one I've ever met or heard of who has bells on his or her tack is Lord Glorfindel. Three riders, one golden, two dark. It's Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel," she said crisply. "Please inform them I am delighted to receive them." With that she turned and headed back to the village, the Rangers looking sheepishly after her.
Half a mark later, Gilraen heard the bells again. She'd prepared places for the elves to stay, the twins in the old master bedroom she hadn't slept in since her husband's death, and the guest room for Glorfindel. She still slept in her son's room, as she always did when he was gone. She supposed when he returned for good she'd have to take the guest room. Of course, if he found a woman he wished to court, he would move to that village.
It was an old tradition, that the Chieftains would move to the village of their bride. It helped protect the line of Kings, as every generation the heir moved to a new place. If the bride was from the same village, the couple would move to a new village, for the same reason. If the enemy found one Heir of Isildur, it was hoped that the younger one would be in a different place. The most vulnerable years, of course, were traditionally spent in Imladris, protected. Aragorn had done that, but much earlier than expected, when the ancient protections for the line of Kings had failed.
Gilraen pulled her thoughts from the loss of her father-in-law and her husband within two years of each other, and the thoughts that she could now loose her son, when three horses came into view.
They were powerful, noble beasts with clean lines. Still, Gilraen paid them no heed, focusing instead on the elves that rode them.
"Elrohir, Elladan, Glorfindel, what brings you to this corner of the world?" she asked, a small smile gracing her face. "It is good to see you again."
Glorfindel smiled. "It is good to see you again also, My Lady." His smile fell. "Unfortunately, we are not here just for pleasant conversation."
"We have come on behalf of our Adar," Elladan said. Gilraen frowned.
"He needs something from the Dúnedain?" she asked, confused.
"No, the other way around," Elrohir answered. Her frowned deepened.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"About a week ago, Adar began having flashes of foresight-" Elladan began.
"Estel." Gilraen breathed, cutting him off. The elves frowned.
"Have you been having premonitions as well?" Glorfindel asked her. She nodded.
"I haven't been able to do anything but pace for the last three days," she told them. Small grins appeared. She huffed.
"Yes, I'm well aware that I always pace when Estel's in danger." The light teasing moment passed.
"You're certain." Elrohir's voice was flat.
"Absolutely." Gilraen's voice was absolute. "For the past three days I have known Estel is going to be in danger."
Elladan exhaled slowly, nodded. "If you will allow us to stay the night, Gilraen, then tomorrow we will go looking for him," he said, indicating the three elves.
"You are welcome to stay the night; the rooms are already prepared. Tomorrow we," Here she indicated all four of them. "shall go find my son."
"Gilraen, it's too dangerous-"
"Your people need you-"
"My Lady-"
Gilraen ignored the twins, and looked straight at Glorfindel.
"He is my son," she said simply. Glorfindel looked conflicted for a moment, then nodded slowly. Battle won, she turned to the twins.
"First, it will not be too dangerous if I'm traveling with you three. Second, my cousin is perfectly capable of leading my people; I find I am just a formality. I'm coming with you."
They reluctantly nodded, realizing they weren't going to change her mind now that their Captain had agreed with her. She ushered them inside, but couldn't resist one last look at the southern horizon. Oh, Estel. Gilraen thought. Where are you?
Yup, new story. This is an AU, but it's still mostly canon, more of a "what if" as I've heard them termed. I can't write on demand, so this will have an irregular update schedule. Sorry.
