Rána swung around to face the speaker. There, standing some ten feet from him, was Goldberry. Rána breathed a sigh of relief. She was smiling sweetly and watching him with a keen interest. She was clothes all in silver and blue like frost on a winter morning. There was a belt of silver, cunningly worked like the twigs of a naked tree about her hips. Her hair was still faintly yellow, but it appeared to have lightened almost to silver in the winter air, and it was crowned with holly leaves and berries. Her face was still as smooth and young as ever. Rána sucked in a breath at the sight of her and bowed.

"My lady," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure? You must forgive me for appearing as I do, but I have just had a fight."

"Which you have seemingly won," said Goldberry looking to the bloody bodies. "It is will met again, Dúnedan. I have sought you out to bring you tidings. Tom is in the wood to the north – there has been trouble on the borders of the Downs which he must tend to. He had bidden me to bring you news. Gandalf has sent word that you are needed in the west of the Shire. He will not say what the exact trouble is, but he bids you go and join the elves of Lenwë who dwell near the White Downs. They often work side by side with your kin when there is need and, in return, the watchers of the western borders often go with them on missions of import. This is Gandalf's message: 'Go thither as swift as may be and meet up with the watcher of the western border, your kin. I ask you to stay until spring, at which time you must travel to Mirkwood where you are needed in the battles there. But do not come sooner! Barad is coming to take your place, but do not wait for his arrival. Leave now. Yours in haste, G.'" Goldberry fell silent and Rána pondered her words. They were grim words full of riddle – but that was Gandalf's way.

"I will go," he said slowly. "Sorely do I wish to leave for Mirkwood now, but I shall do as Gandalf wishes. Tell me, lady, do you know anything of these men that I have slain? I could get no information out of them."

Goldberry did not move close to the bodies strewn about, but her eyes roved over them. "I do not," she said. "They passed through the wood ere I came here, and the trees know nothing of them except that they are from the south." She shook her head. "There is no doubt they had ill intentions, but what those may be, I cannot say. But tarry no longer, Rána," she said. "Leave the dead. Holes cannot be dug in this frozen ground, nor are there stones enough to pile on top, but I think there will be no need for burial. I doubt they will be here in the morning. I will leave you now. May your journey be swift and may you meet no trouble on the road."

Rána walked to stand in front of the tall naiad. "You have taught me many things, lady," he said. "I have learned much from you which I have needed and used in the wild. And now you come with dire news and council. I am forever in your debt." She offered her hand with a smile and he took it and kissed it, and her icy cold skin on his lips made his mouth tingle and he felt as though he had drunk strong liquor.

Then she turned and melted into the forest as silently as she had come.

Rána stared after her until she was no longer in sight. Then he turned and picked up Anarríma from the ground and wiped the blade clean, returning it to its scabbard. Then he plucked his arrows out of the bodies and strode through the wood to his hovel. He was packed within an hour and, wrapped in his elven cloak and with his horse's saddle slung over his shoulder, he took to his road. Upon leaving the wood, about an hour into his journey, he whistled for his horse which he often left grazing in the open south of Buckland.

When his dark chestnut horse trotted up to him, Rána saddled his mount and slung his bags over the pommel. Then he leapt up and started the long ride around the southern end of the Shire, crossing the Brandywine. It would take him three days steady riding, and he intended on getting it over with quickly. He did not like riding in the open and, although most of the land he would be traveling on was open farmland with few dwellings and far spread out, he feared being spotted. He did not want his presence known or any questions asked of him.

There were many places where his path became difficult, and he had to pick his way through places finding spots for his horse to travel. They crossed many small rivulets and steep green slopes, mossy banks and thickly wooded lands. Winter was silent. It didn't rain during his journey, but the sun was thin and wan and offered little warmth. The ground was frozen, and while the little streams were not frozen, they were icy and clear as elf-crystal. Occasionally a biting wind would blow and Rána had to wrap his cloak tight about him. Elf weave is marvelous stuff and can keep out the most biting chill, but the wind stung Rána's keen eyes.

He saw no other living thing besides a few birds and deer, a red fox and several squirrels. He was careful not to pass over farmland where he would be seen, and no one heeded his passing. He admired the beauty of the South Farthing. Even in the dead of winter, there was a charm and warmness about it. The frost on the grass, the leafless trees glistening in the cold sun, the remnants of a light snow still lingered in the shadows of tree and thicket.

On the morning of his third day of travel, Rána dismounted and continued on foot. He wanted to watch his way carefully and he could do this better on foot. His goal was to find the ranger he was so meet with. Not knowing if he or the elves of Lenwë were expecting him, he went cautiously. He did not want to cause an unnecessary stir. He intended on finding news of them before they knew of his coming, and he started to comb the land thoroughly. Rangers and elves leave little mark upon the earth and Rána knew it would be a difficult task, but he continued on. At any rate, if he could learn nothing of them, he would arrive in the west of the Shire and set up camp and let them find him.

As he rounded the western edge of the Shire, near the borders of Hobbiton, he passed through a large expanse of wooded area. Not as large as the Old Forest, or even the Chetwood, But Rána was impressed at the thickness of the trees. He wondered if any elves dwelt therein. It was nearing noon and he had seen no sign of any Rangers or elves. Unsaddling his horse, Rána let him loose to find grass.

Rána settled himself against the bowl of a great oak tree on the hill which marked the edge of the wood. Far below and off in the east he could see where the dwellings of Hobbiton started. He ate a meager meal of dried meat and cheese and washed it down with red wine from a leather flask. He felt the warmth spread through his body. It was a special wine made by the rangers which contained a power to warm and revive.

A tiny crackle behind him brought him immediately to attention. He didn't make a move, but every muscle tensed in readiness. He loosed a long thin knife that he kept in his belt. A muffled voice came from behind him and to his left. "Move and die," said the voice. Rána made no move or any sign that he had heard the speaker and he kept perfectly still. He heard light footfalls drawing closer and heard the slight creak of a taught bowstring.

He could sense his watcher's doubt. In his elven cloak, his identity was hidden from view. In a flash, Rána rolled to his right and disappeared behind the trunk of the oak. He heard the twang, zing, and thud of the arrow as it buried itself deep into the ground where he had been sitting. In a moment, he was around the side of the tree and met his assailant face on. He was dressed in green and brown as a Ranger, though there were elven touches. The lower half of his face was hidden under a scarf with his hood pulled low. Rána could barely make out two sharp blue eyes from under the hood. The figure was tall and thin, but Rána was still a few inches taller. Without having time to ready another arrow, the man had dropped his dark bow and drawn a white knife of elvish make.

Rána perceived that this was the man he was searching for, but the idea of being shot at had infuriated him to the point that he needed revenge, and he rushed at the man. With his own long knife, Rána turned the blade of the Ranger and caught his assailant's thin wrist in his other hand. He grunted in pain as the other landed a swift blow to his side with a bony fist. With a crack, the man head-butted Rána who reeled back, seeing black spots in his vision. Recovering quickly however, Rána drove against the Ranger with his shoulder and knocked the man to the ground, landing on top.

He still had a firm grip on his assailants wrist and he twisted it until the elvish knife fell from the grip. There was something odd about this voiceless Ranger beneath him, and it took Rána several moments to realize what it was. Suddenly the truth dawned on him, and he snatches the scarf from the man's face. As he suspected – late though he was in the realization – it was not a man at all but a young women, maybe a year or so younger than himself. Her crystalline blue eyes blazed with anger and her pale cheeks were flushed. Rána noticed at once that she was exceedingly beautiful. Her mouth was full and set in an angry line.

"Let me up!" she spat.

"I think not," he replied. "Not until you tell me why you tried to kill one of your own."

"I did not intend on killing you," she frowned. "But you ran, and I had no choice. Let me up!"

Rána did not let her, but smiled grimly. "Who are you?" he asked. "There are no women Rangers – not on the field anyway. Why did you give me no sign?"

"I wanted to see you closer first. You are in my territory and none pass without my knowing. You looked suspicious."

"You had no word, then, that I was coming?"

"I had word."

Rána shook his head, "you are full on complications are you? What's your name?"

"Let me up."

"What's your name?" he insisted.

"Do you not know, Moon-Boy?"

Rána started and looked at her closely. Then his eyes widened. "Lórellin?" he gasped.