The first thing I noted, though not for the first time, was how swift dawn came in the southern lands. It had not been ten minutes from when my eyes first opened and yet the sky was already losing the grey-gold cast of pre-dawn.

I continued to staring at the sky until gold streaks of true dawn raced across the sky. There was little time for contemplation this morning, though there was more than had been in the past few weeks. I had wished to be in Rivendell sooner, worrying that I would be too late, and thus pushed our small party from dawn and well past dusk each day. Still we had barely made it in time for the council.

"And now the fate of Middle Earth shall be decided," I said to the air. I quickly pushed off the blankets and moved towards the table where a bowl of steaming water and a washcloth lay. There was no time for a bath, despite what my aching muscles were protesting. A bath could come later; I needed be presentable for the council and have time to speak with Mithrandir and the Dúnadan. After scrubbing as much of the grime from my body as possible, I threw on my breast-band and loincloth. Fine breeches were thrown on quickly, yet the tunic and shirt my mother bade me bring for the council eluded my fingers. A knock sounded on the door.

I dug rapidly threw my packs, all attempts at order discarded. A knock sounded again, louder and more rapid than the first. "Peace, friend! You must have patience!" I called as I slipped the dark grey linen shirt over my head, briefly enjoying the smooth material as it slid down my body. Over it went a gift from my mother: a tunic from the Grey Elves. It was made of soft black wool that in certain lights was hued with dark green. It fell to mid-calf where the hem was edged with a fine braid of mithril, as was the collar; a slit up each side to my hips allowed free movement. The belt, which came with it, had a similar braid of mithril in the center. It was a kingly gift given to her mother by the Grey Elves years ago, which she passed on to me when I came of age. A rapid knocking on the door woke me from my memories. Swiftly I laced up my boots to the knee and opened the door.

A man stood outside my door. Most knew him by Estel, a Ranger from the North. To me he was the Dúnadan, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and my long-time friend, Aragorn.

"I feared you were drowning in the folds of your bed as you are so prone to do," he said with a smile.

"That, my friend, has not happened in many, many years. Or are you becoming senile in your old age?" I retorted. His smile only grew broader and he pulled me into a hug. "It is good to see you, Daerwen. It has been too long."

"It is good to see you too, Estel."

"I came to ask if you would dine with Gandalf and me this morning. Elda is speaking with Lord Elrond for now."

"It would be my pleasure, though I must braid my hair first." Aragorn raised one brow and finally gave my clothing notice. Slowly his smile dimmed. "I will explain. Later," I said my voice low. Aragorn gave me a hard look before nodding.

"Gandalf wishes to eat in his room, it is down the hall from the library." With that, Aragorn turned and walked away. I let the door shut slowly whilst I pondered. Aragorn was tired, that was plain. There was more though, he was afraid. I let my thoughts wander as I braided back my hair. What most would assume were thoughtless pieces of metal and crystal were actually tokens from friends and family, one for each mission done by a ranger in service to the Dúnadan; for each safe return. Only women who chose the life of a Ranger did so, a beautiful reminder to some men who would otherwise have locked us in our homes that women are as deadly as any man. It was a tradition started long ago by the warrior queens of Numenor. The braids themselves denoted the status of those women in service as Rangers. Seven braids marks a woman as a Ranger, eight as a lieutenant, and nine as a captain. I, like my mother, had nine braids and many beads. It had taken many years for such status to be earned for I was nearly as old as Aragorn. I had just past my 63 birthday.

I grabbed a white wool cloak with a silver embroidered hem and tucked my braided hair into it. I opened the door and pulled the hood low, hiding my face in the shadows of the hood. I could hear loud guffaws in the gardens off to my right. As I glanced between the trees I saw flashes of small limbs and curly blonde hair.

I turned left, heading deeper into Imladris. I passed the library and headed down the passage. At the end of the hall a door was ajar. I knocked upon the door and listened as soft footsteps came towards the door. The door swung open to reveal a wizard in gray robes.

"Daerwen, good," Gandalf began as we embraced. His gray robes wrapped around my frame; I felt as if I was a small girl again. "You have grown, child," Gandalf murmured. He stepped back, hands on my shoulders, and thoroughly examined me.

"Later, my friend," I said before he could begin interrogating me. "I fear my stomach shall disappear if I do not eat soon."

Gandalf took my hand and led me to the spread laid out on the balcony. Aragorn was already seated next to the rail. I slid into my seat with a smile and pushed back my hood. The three of us then began serving ourselves bread, jam, and fruit. Our breakfast passed in companionable silence, but I felt the eyes of my friends glance up multiple times at me. As the last pieces of food passed our lips, Gandalf and Aragorn turn slightly in their seats; their questions could not be put off any longer.

Before Aragorn could speak I raised my hand. "I have no knowledge of the matter in which the council shall discuss. I have only my suspicions. Orcs and trolls are becoming bolder and a shadow grows in the east. I believe I know what has been brought to Imladris."

"Daerwen, I do not—" Again I held up my hand.

"Aragorn, within my blood is a weak foresight. You know this. You share this. Whatever the council decides, I shall see it done. This is my path."

I could see as quickly as I spoke the fight leave my friend. Aragorn dropped his eyes to his empty plate. I turned then to Gandalf. Long had he been both friend and mentor to me, especially after my father had died. On his face was a sad resignation.

"I will not hinder you, Daerwen, if that is what you fear," he said gently. "I only wish it was not so."

I nodded and Aragorn sighed. He, most of all, had filled my father's place. In the beginning, I know he did so out of guilt and duty, for my father died on a mission with Aragorn. However, I know he grew to love me over the many years. He was the one who taught me how to be a Ranger.

"Daerwen, I will tell you only of the beginning of this tale," Gandalf began, interrupting my recollecting. "During his birthday celebration, I discovered that Bilbo Baggins had been in possession of a ring of power—you know the one of which I speak, do not interrupt." I swiftly shut my mouth. Gandalf's face was very grim. "I travelled to Isenguard, seeking council from Saruman. I had been deceived; Saruman has allied himself with Sauron. I was held captive in Orthanc until recently. However as I lay a prisoner, the ring travelled from the Shire to Imladris." Gandalf paused in his telling for a drink of water.

"Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's nephew, now carries the Ring. He was accompanied by three other hobbits," said Aragorn. "I met with them in Bree and guided them the rest of the way."

I sat and said nothing. Both men let me think quietly. After a time, Gandalf took my hand in. I looked into his eyes, my determination etched on my face. "So be it."