DISCLAIMER: See first chapter. Many thanks to dreamingfifi and Esperanza for betaing this.
Single quotes plus italics denotes character thought.
1. Anonymous
Aragorn picked his way carefully over the uneven ground, watchful of any movement or sound. He did not have much time for he had to tend to Frodo, but equally he had to know something about the Nazgul's movements if they were to continue their journey towards Imladris. Walking unwittingly into the Nine's company would be nothing short of suicide.
Aragorn lay flat on the grassy down, keen eyes scanning the darkness. Nothing. It would seem that the wraiths had gone. "I must return," he muttered to himself, half unconscious that he had spoken. "Frodo is in danger. My skills as a healer have been well learned, but …"
The Ranger trailed off, and jumped as he heard someone speaking behind him - someone who, apparently, had appeared out of thin air.
"Well learned?"
He turned, hand on hilt, and was taken aback to find himself looking right down the shaft of a rather lethal-looking arrow.
Aragorn raised his hands, though he suspected that he knew this was an Elf - Elves were some of the few who could sneak up on him. He recognised that clear, ringing tone of voice; it belonged to one of the Firstborn, without question.
Aragorn glared at the tall figure stood in front of him, irritated at being unable to place him. The newcomer was clad in a long cloak, his hood pulled low over his face. Only his eyes were visible - blue grey and sharp as a spearhead. Like Aragorn's own, the eyes seemed to pierce into him and out the other side. Not uncommon among the Eldar. But where Aragorn's were kindly, these eyes were hard and uncompromising. Entirely expressionless.
"Well learned?" the voice repeated, sounding slightly amused. "As has been the ability to sneak up on a Ranger, Estel."
The voice was clear and very slightly musical; certainly an Elvish voice, though the Sindarin was spoken with a strange, lilting accent, and the voice was less smooth and melodic than was the wont of the Elves. Aragorn had heard that accent before. He frowned; the voice did not go with the figure's height and broad shoulders. It was not . . . masculine. The Ranger looked at the stranger appraisingly - if anything, he himself was a good two inches smaller than the cloaked Elf. Aragorn was not used to being shorter than anyone, and it narrowed down his options considerably.
'Oh, I now have a fairly good idea of who you are,' he thought. ' And frankly, I am not altogether surprised. Or pleased.' "Is that you?" he enquired aloud.
"Is that whom?"
The ranger folded his arms across a broad chest as the arrow was returned to its quiver. "Erethien, I do not have time for this."
The figure inclined his head and removed his hood, brown hair tumbling around his face. Her face, Aragorn corrected himself resignedly. It was a woman. Every time he met her, he made the same mistake - usually because it was dark, and because she took positive delight in surprising him. Even so, he always felt uncomfortably foolish for having thought her a man - even for a short time. Though with that build, it was not an unfair assumption, and nor was he the first to have made it. Which, in fact, suited the elleth very well indeed.
"Very good, son of Arathorn. Too well can you recognise me; I evidently need new disguises."
Aragorn sighed in exasperation and grasped her shoulders. "Erethien, what are you doing here? Why the disguise?"
She raised an eyebrow, clear skin flickering pale silver in the moonlight. "It serves me to remain anonymous. I was looking for you."
Aragorn regarded her in irritation. This elleth kept popping up wherever he went, though she usually had a good reason. Usually. There had been several occasions when the Ranger was convinced that she had appeared because she knew how much it annoyed him. "Have you been stalking me?"
The Elf sighed impatiently. "Must you put it so? Yes, of course I have been following you - how else would I know your whereabouts? I came to warn you. The Nine are headed for this place now … or they were when I last caught sight of them. They know where you are camped." She hesitated briefly, not given to advising the likes of Estel. "I was nearby, and was not sure of how much you were aware of."
Aragorn nodded his thanks, though her warning had come late. He had known that the Nazgul were close, and their danger great - but not so great as it had proved.
Erethien watched his face closely. "I take it my warning comes late, then."
Aragorn nodded. "Aye. But I thank you for your trouble."
Erethien shook her head. "I am sorry for that. It was no trouble. Were any hurt?"
Aragorn observed her guardedly. He had no idea of how much she knew, or did not know. Or indeed how much she should know - Erethien's ethics tended to be rather sketchy, to say the least.
She regarded him with an arched brow. "I know your secrets well, Aragorn; you need not fear to tell me."
Aragorn grimaced. It was true that she did usually contrive to know considerably more than she should - though to say that she knew all his secrets was something of an exaggeration. When questioned about her sources, or her own origins, she invariably replied 'Over the hills and far away', which never failed to annoy the questioner. Which was, of course, why she said it.
"Erethien, do you not have other affairs to attend to?"
"Very well, keep your secrets," she responded, unsurprised. Not many people trusted her with vital information. For good reasons, as it happened.
"Are you camping here?" Aragorn asked, suspecting he knew the answer - the woman never stayed in one place for long.
"I? No, I must go now. I cannot linger here." The elleth began to walk away, feet soundless on the grass.
"Take care," Aragorn advised her somewhat pointlessly. Erethien was notorious for not taking advice about her personal safety. "These lands are not safe for a solitary traveller."
"I shall be just fine," she responded impatiently, looking over her shoulder at him. "I am not dead yet."
"Do not trust so heavily in your good fortune," Aragorn cautioned; he had always had deep misgivings about Erethien's rather lax attitude towards defence. "One day it will desert you again, as it did once before."
Erethien merely shrugged. "That was then; I was unprepared for the attack, and I was inexperienced. This is now, and I must leave. I am in little danger and I wish you luck, for they do not hunt for me - they hunt for you . Or rather for you and your company," she replied, her gaze travelling over to the fire where Aragorn had left the hobbits. She frowned slightly. "Why are you travelling with halflings?
Aragorn sighed, and decided to feign deafness. He did not have the inclination to explain or the time to argue, and the woman could argue for hours on end given half a chance. "Where are you going? Does your road take you past Imladris?"
"I know not. I have not yet decided. Why?"
"If you do go there . . . will you tell Undómiel that I am but twenty days at the most from the house of her father?"
Erethien shrugged in a rather un-Elven fashion and nodded - her road would probably have gone past the valley in any case.
"Very well; I will tell her." She nodded to the Ranger and walked into the darkness.
Aragorn watched her melt into the night before returning swiftly to the campfire.
'If we had travelled slower, or she quicker, this could have been prevented,' he reflected darkly.He shook himself. It was not Erethien's fault, no matter how irritating she could be. The Ringbearer needed his attention - the Ranger pushed the thoughts from his mind. They were not helping him now.
Erethien looked up at the dark sky, feeling the raindrops falling coldly on her face. There was no point in staying in Eriador; the thing she searched for was not there, and she had known it for many years. She had travelled every step of country from Dunland to the passes of the Grey Mountains, and after centuries, still she searched. It was time, she was beginning to realise, to go south. Failing that, east.
Erethien knew well that going east these days was unwise, if not utter madness - but she knew it only as a fact. She had not seen it herself, and having little or no imagination could not guess. Erethien did not fear the notion of taking the road eastwards or what she might meet on it. She had warned Aragorn of the Nazgul's approach for the simple reason that he was a useful ally. They had fought together on several occasions, and the aid of a Ranger was not to be slighted. Especially that particular Ranger.
Not that he knew of her search. None save herself and the Lord of Imladris knew of that, and Erethien saw little need for them to. It was her own affair. There was a good reason for the way she guarded her knowledge. Emotions meant little to her, except as an excuse for a fight or a dangerous situation; adrenaline was the air she breathed and chaos the sea she swam in. It suited her. The only thing Erethien cared for was her search, and surviving long enough to complete it.
Erethien whistled sharply, and nodded as she heard the dull thud of hooves on the ground. A dark bay mare halted in front of her, drenched with the rain. Erethien patted her neck in approval as she leapt lightly onto the mare's wet back. She had always felt a vague sort of affection for Cerveth ever since she had found her running loose in Minhiriath a decade ago, but had never really recognised or known how to act on it. Not uncommon for Erethien - very rarely did she actually realise when she was experiencing any emotion much more delicate than boiling rage - or, at best, excitement. Subtlety was not, never had been and never would be her strong point.
She shook her head and spoke quietly to the mare, whose ears flicked back in order to catch her rider's voice against the noise of the rain, the whispered command scarcely audible. The bay mare broke into a swift canter, changing direction smoothly with a murmur from her rider. Cerveth cantered due east, her rider a tall, dark, broad shouldered figure in the stormy night.
Arwen Undómiel lifted her dark head from her book as she sensed a coldness entering her father's realm. That would be Erethien. Nobody else gave her that sense of glacial untouchability. She shivered. Erethien was interesting - or probably would be if she ever gave anything away - but she made Arwen uneasy. There was something almost animal-like about that woman. Almost indifferent.
A short while later, light footsteps came from the left of the tree where she sat, and she looked up. It was indeed Erethien, looking exactly as she had when she had last seen Arwen two years ago: scruffy cloak, scruffy shoes, scruffy green leggings, scruffy tunic - scruffy everything in fact, except her weapons, which were some of the few things she possessed that she invariably kept spotless.
Arwen wished that the elf would do something about her appearance, but knew she never would. Erethien reminded Arwen of Estel in that respect - she did not care about such things, and never had.
Erethien nodded to Arwen in greeting, wondering briefly, as she always did, how it was possible for somebody to look like that. Not that Erethien had the faintest interest in appearances, but she recognised beauty when she saw it. Well was the daughter of Elrond named, for she truly was the Evenstar of her race; Eärendil's light shone in her fair face and danced in her grey eyes. There was no one like Arwen save Lúthien, who had died centuries ago. It was strange that the lady with Lúthien's likeness would follow Lúthien's fate. Many considered it a waste; Erethien supposed that it was, but then she did not fully understand the reasoning behind Arwen's decision. And probably never would.
Erethien shook herself. 'Why am I daydreaming? I am here for a reason.'
"Erethien. What brings you here?" Arwen greeted her. Erethien seldom set foot in Imladris, and whenever she did, it was for a clear purpose.
Erethien nodded to her in acknowledgement. "You do, Arwen. Estel requested that I tell you something."
Arwen sighed impatiently as the elf did not volunteer more detailed information. It was always like this. Erethien seemed to take positive delight in irritating others by withholding details. "What did he say?"
Erethien raised an eyebrow. "That he was but twenty days from Imladris at the most - that would be but nine days now, for I rode here and he is on foot. I had a difficult enough time getting past the guards to give his words to you, but I succeeded." She bowed in a mockingly elaborate fashion.
Arwen shook her head and laughed. "Dispense with the formalities; they do not suit you. Only nine days?" she asked, her face lighting up with hope. She sorely missed Estel when he was away.
Erethien nodded, her expression neutral in contrast.
"That is wonderful news! Thank you. Though I see by your face that you do not understand at all. Am I correct?"
Erethien shook her head in surprise at Arwen's joyful reaction. "You are, Arwen. And I must go."
Arwen looked at her, surprised. "So soon? Are you not remaining?"
Erethien shook her head and tucked her long hair behind her ears. "I have my own affairs to attend to. Besides, there is no real reason for me to stay." She turned and walked back up the path leading out of the valley, the sense of coldness lessening as she became further away.
Arwen shook her head again. Erethien was indeed a strange woman - aloofness was one thing, but she came across as so icily indifferent that it was almost unnatural. 'In fact, there is no 'almost' about it,' Arwen reflected. 'She is unnatural. Why does she choose to wander apparently aimlessly in the wilds?'
Her father had mentioned something to her about a search, but not in any detail. Arwen wondered briefly what she looked for. Erethien's parents had gone over the sea long ago under dark circumstances shortly before Erethien was born; but for some unfathomable reason the elleth had returned alone. Many years later, she had, like Estel, taken to the wilderness. But Estel at least had a purpose - as perhaps did Erethien, though it was certainly hidden from most.
Arwen sighed and returned to her book, hoping that Erethien would one day find what she sought. Though judging by the way she acted, Arwen had long considered it highly likely that she would get herself killed before she found it. Whatever it was.
Cerveth: July