A/N: Have a pleasant Monday, everyone!

About updating in the summer I can't really tell you anything, especially the second half of it since I'll be away most of the time. But I'll try to write as much as I can in June and we'll see how it goes.

But for now, the new chapter is here.

Enjoy!


The sun was high in the sky and a covered wagon pulled by two horses rolled down the North-South Road. There was absolutely nothing peculiar about this wagon. It was such an ordinary wagon that a random passer-by wouldn't even remember seeing it if somebody asked.

But the travelers on that wagon were nothing like the ordinary. Two men were sitting at the front, one of them, slightly taller than the other, holding reins and the other talking to him in silent voice. From afar they looked like common Men, but on a closer inspection, one could notice their slightly pointed ears and sharp facial features. Behind them, if one looked even closer, one could see a hooded figure. The figure's cloak was almost indistinguishable from the wagon's cover and the hood had been drawn over the face of the person inside, so that if one managed to see the hooded figure, one still couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. One couldn't even tell if it was a Man or a dwarf for that matter. Probably the only peculiar thing about this wagon was that there was a saddled horse walking next to it, tied to the wagon by a rope.

Namiriel sighed. It was already the eleventh passer-by they saw today. It was one of the most frequently used roads in Middle-Earth, leading from Mithlond and Fornost (the capital of Arnor) to Tharbad and from there to Rohan. If she had ridden down this road alone, many people would have certainly seen her and some of them also might have recognized her face. But in the shade of the wagon most travelers didn't even notice her. It was a perfect way to travel inconspicuously.

They had been on the road for several days already, but Namiriel had had little chance to get to know her companions. Not because they didn't talk, on the contrary, they were rarely quiet. In the last days they had covered most of the subjects from dwarven poetry to the ships of the Dúnedain, but they weren't very keen on speaking about themselves. Not that she minded, she hadn't spoken much about herself either.

"I think we should take a break, turn to that road over there," Curunir said, pointing towards a narrow road into the forest.

Eriston nodded and the wagon slowed down. They turned to an old forest road that very rarely seen any use and rode down it until they reached a small opening on the bank of a river.

"The river Baranduin," Eriston said. He stopped the horses and jumped off the wagon. Then he reached into the carriage to take a pot and a bag, the horses meanwhile began cheerfully chewing the grass. Curunir had grabbed his bow and disappeared into the woods. Namiriel felt at loss for a moment, but then took off her hood and went to help Eriston.

When Namiriel and Eriston had filled the pot with herbs and vegetables, Curunir reappeared, holding a freshly caught rabbit and some dry tree branches. As he got the fire started, Eriston skinned the rabbit and chopped it into the pot while Namiriel added some herbs to it.

"I say let us call it a day," Curunir said, lying down on the grass as they waited for the stew to boil.

"How many more days shall our journey last?" Namiriel asked.

"We should arrive in nine days if all goes well," Curunir answered.

Eriston nodded and adjusted the pot on the fire.

"I saw some very fine shooting back in Tharbad," Curunir stated.

"Thank you," she said.

"I consider myself a good bowman as well. What do you think about a small competition after the dinner?"

Namiriel considered the proposal for a moment and then answered: "I suppose some practice cannot hurt."

"Wonderful!" Curunir exclaimed. Eriston looked at his friend, slightly raising his eyebrow, but then took the pot off the fire and handed everyone a small wooden bowl, filling it with the stew.

"I didn't know you could cook so well, my friend," Curunir said, taking a bite.

"I think it's Missel who really deserves your praise," Eriston answered, glancing at Namiriel.

Namiriel laughed. "I appreciate it, Eriston, but my cooking skill is barely worth mentioning."

"Well, I think the stew is delicious," Curunir stated, emptying his bowl. He stood up. "But now, let us see who the better archer is."

"Let her finish the dinner first," Eriston stated.

"It is all right, I am already finished," Namiriel said and also stood up. She grabbed her bow from the wagon and took off her cloak. Then Namiriel and Curunir stood side-by-side in the middle of the opening.

Eriston came with some wooden discs and remained standing near them.

"Ladies first," Curunir said and gestured at Namiriel. She drew the bow and remained waiting. Eriston threw one of the discs up into the air. It swirled around and Namiriel carefully aimed. As the disc was falling downwards, she released the arrow and hit it right in the middle. Curunir nodded approvingly and took his station. Eriston threw another disc. Curunir's arrow flew through the air and also hit the target.

"Make it a bit harder, will you?" Curunir said, laughing. Eriston smirked and threw another disc, but this time, instead of throwing it upwards, he threw it over the river away from them. Namiriel had to shoot quickly. She instinctively released her arrow without taking too much time to aim and she was relieved when it hit the disc. Curunir frowned slightly, but drew his bow. As Eriston threw the disc he released his arrow. It flew through the air, but only hit the edge of its target, breaking a small piece off it.

"There must have been a wind gust," he stated.

"Nevertheless, we have determined the winner," Eriston said.

"Yes, I am glad to have had the chance to meet such a fine archer as you," Curunir told, smiling.

"And I am glad to have met you two, I wouldn't have gotten so far without you," she answered.

"Surely you would have," Curunir said.

"But we still have a long way to go," his friend stated.

The following days were still fairly warm, although the signs of coming autumn could already be seen. The birds didn't sing as often as before and the warm summer breeze had been replaced by a cool autumn wind. After they had crossed the river Baranduin, they saw less and less people every day. Most of the travelers had turned before the river towards the village of Bree and the city of Fornost. The company continued over the Sarn Ford and down the North-South Road to the White Downs. Then they turned west towards the Tower Hills.

The road over the White Downs was narrow and lonely. They barely saw one traveler per day and on some days, they didn't see anyone. Namiriel had quit wearing the hood since she could always pull it over her head when she heard someone approaching. The days were all very alike and there wasn't much to see on either side of the road.

To Curunir's question about the time of their arrival Eriston answered: "We are nearing the Tower Hills, no more than a two days' ride from here."

"Two days seems tediously long, in my opinion," Curunir said and disappeared into the interior of the wagon. Namiriel peeked in to see what he was doing. He opened a bag, poked around in it for a while and then pulled out something long and wooden – a flute. He then returned to his usual seat and said: "I thought I would make the time pass faster."

"You can't speed up time, no matter how hard you try, though you can make it seem to go faster," Eriston stated.

" It's all the same to me," Curunir said and began playing a cheerful tune.

"My brother plays the flute, you know," Namiriel said. It was the first time she brought up her family in a conversation.

"Oh, does he?" Curunir asked. "But can he play this?" He began a faster and more playful tune with many swirls.

"I think he can, I have even heard him play this," Namiriel said laughingly.

"Then what about this?" He began another tune that started slow and silent, but then grew richer and stronger.

"It is a wonderful tune," she told and began swinging in its rhythm.

"Curunir, don't show off," Eriston uttered.

"No, it is fine, I enjoy listening to your play," Namiriel said. Eriston frowned slightly, but he couldn't help swinging with the music as well. The journey suddenly didn't feel so long.

Suddenly Eriston stopped the wagon.

"What is it?" Curunir asked, taking the flute from his lips.

Eriston listened the surroundings for a moment and they all began to hear a low and distant snarl.

" Wargs," he said and made the horses rush forward in a gallop. Namiriel reached into the wagon, handed Curunir his bow and also grabbed hers. She set an arrow ready and remained waiting. The snarling was approaching and Eriston hustled the horses forward.

Then she suddenly no longer heard the wargs.

"I think we lost them!" She shouted to her companions. Eriston's face was stern and Curunir also had an arrow ready.

"No, they're upon us," Eriston said as there was a loud howl and a huge wolf jumped out of the bushes onto one of the horses, its teeth ripping into it's sides. The horse stopped and neighed in pain, as it desperately tried to shake of the warg. The wagon tilted dangerously to its side as the other horse tried to keep running and for a moment it seemed like it was going to keel over. Curunir steadied his bow and shot the arrow through the warg's head.

Another wolf jumped onto the wagon's cover, ripping it in shreds and landing behind Namiriel. She took an arrow and stabbed the warg with it before rolling off the carriage onto the ground. The arrow sticking out of its chest didn't stop the warg from charging at Eriston who threw aside his cloak, revealing two slightly curved blades, and sliced off the wolf's head. But more were coming. Namiriel could see at least a dozen more wargs and she began shooting her arrows. One fell. Two. But they were already getting closer. Curunir joined her by her side, but there was a hint of hopelessness in his eyes.

"Boe i'waeg!" Eriston shouted.

"No, I cannot leave you here!" Namiriel responded to him, shooting down another warg.

" We will deal with the wargs. GO!" Curunir shouted. Namiriel shook her head, but Eriston cut the rope binding Súletál to the wagon and handed her his reins.

"Namiriel, you must go. We'll follow you soon," he said and almost pushed her onto her horse. She felt tears falling from her eyes, but spurred her horse to a fast gallop.

The sounds of battle fell behind her, but the howling of the wargs was stuck in her head until she reached the gates of Mithlond several hours later.

The gates into the city were open, but as soon as she entered, the guards surrounded her and brought her horse to a halt. They gestured her to dismount to which she silently complied.

"Who are you and what business have you here?" one of the guards asked her, probably their captain.

"Sevidh dhaw an gwad," a authoritarian voice behind him said and the guards pulled back, letting an old elf pass through.

"Círdan!" Namiriel exclaimed and ran to the elf, hugging him tightly.

"Ah, Tithenil. What strange winds have brought you here? And what ill fate has fallen upon your company?"

"I travelled in the company of two of your traders, Curunir and Eriston. A pack of wargs ambushed us in the mountains for we went overly northwards," she explained. "Please, you must help them, they may still be alive!"

"Curunir and Eriston you say?" Círdan asked dubiously.

"Yes, without them I wouldn't have got here."

"I know no traders named Curunir and Eriston in Mithlond nor somewhere else," Círdan said.

"What do you mean?" Namiriel asked, unable to believe his words.

"That they very likely hid themselves under false names. But if they helped you then I cannot leave them to such fates," Cirdan told and turned to the guard captain. "Gather a party and venture east. Find two travelers and, if possible, bring them back alive."

The guard captain nodded and was just leaving when he saw a horse stopping in front of the gates and two figures climbing off. "Daro! Man de?" he shouted out to them.

The figures walked through the city gates and Namiriel and Círdan now noticed them as well. One of them was leaning heavily on the other, it seemed like his leg was broken. Their clothes were slightly torn in placed as if they had fought a pack of wolves and suddenly Namiriel recognized them.

Elladan?

Elrohir?

Brothers?


Boe i'waeg – You must leave

Sevidh dhaw an gwad – You may go

Daro! Man de? – Stop! Who are you?