Sitting in the shadow of Ered Lithui, she watched. Many years had she traveled this land, looking out for it's people. It had been nearly twenty years since she had come to dwell in this dark wasteland. She had been ever aware of the movements of the Lord of the Nazgul and his brothers. Slowly they had begun to bring in droves upon droves of slaves, bought from traders in the south, and a few from the north. She had been able to intercept a few bands here and there, relocating the slaves to places in the many cities that were scattered across Gondor and Rohan. And now she watched. The amount of slaves had decreased that the slavers brought in, and she could only assume it was because of the marriages among those that already dwelt on the fields. It disgusted her, but she remembered over and over the evil, and their enemy was utterly nauseating.
She had been ever vigilant as she looked out for the peoples of the earth, waiting for the enemy to move. Each day she could feel the darkness growing, and she knew that Sauron's strength was growing. He may not have been in his physical body, but his spirit was enough to incite war and chaos. He was gathering orcs and trolls, breeding them into war machines. Bit by bit he was building an army. One that would be unleashed upon Middle Earth in the near future.
Rising from her seat, she looked out over the fields of Nurn, picking out the numerous bodies of the slaves that toiled in the burning sun. After a moment she looked away towards the east, observing Dagorlad with her piercing eyes. There was no movement there today, and she felt that there wouldn't be any for a long while. Soon, though, soon there would be people walking across this plain, bent on destroying middle earth, blotting out every kingdom from east to west.
Hopping down, she bounced from stone to stone, shimmied down a sheer rock wall, gripping the smallest of cracks, and jumped to the ground. She trotted across the gravelly soil, numerous rock slides having created a stoney, shifting base around the solidness of the mountains. Her feet hurried along a path that she had created over the past two decades, worn into the earth by her light feet. They carried her over the rolling hills, through ravens, and through the tall grass that began to creep higher and higher as she got farther away from the mountains. Slipping down a hill of grass, she came to a stop. Using the palm of her leather gloved hands, she pushed off of the slick hill towards the camp that she had hidden among the tall grass and few trees that had managed to grow in her secret raven.
Hurrying forward she pushed the dirt over the fire that she had lit earlier in the day, covering all her track just in case someone happened by her hiding spot. She snatched up her saddlebags, bedroll, and canteen along with a satchel, she swung them over her shoulder. As she ran through the tall grasses she counted the days until she would once again be able to bathe somewhat properly. Coming to the top of one a hill a little over a mile from her campsite she dropped her bags to the ground and raised her fingers to her lips, letting out a high, ear splitting whistle. It was almost to high for her to hear, and was much to high for any man to hear. Gazing across the fields she waited while breathing in the sweet smell of the grass around her. She stopped breathing deep when she caught a wiff of her own odors, wrinkling her nose in revulsion.
"A bath is definitely in order," she mumbled, catching sight of a black stallion thundering across the plain toward her.
Plucking her bags from the ground she raced down the hill towards the even ground, the horse still pounding towards her. He didn't stop as she slid across the damp ground before him, his sharp hooves flashing in the light of the sun. His whinny echoed over the plains, loud and authoritative. Nearly upon her, his hooves mashing the ground, stirring and ripping it up, he reared, a shrill, irritated snort. She ducked his flaying hooves, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.
"Really?" she asked, skirting around him, "Every time, Cadoc, every time! What do you think you are? A war horse?"
He snorted, shaking his head at her, turning to nip at her arm as she strapped on her bags and sleeping roll, seeming to say 'of course?'
"And what have you been up to, mellonin? Prancing in front of all the mares somewhere in Rohan I wouldn't doubt?" she said, leaping onto his back.
He bucked a little, causing her to hold tight to his mane as he pranced about anxiously.
"Oh, so you were, fancy that," she chuckled, nudging him onward with her heel.
He whinnied proudly, tail raised high and streaming out behind them as he thundered across the plain.
"What my brother's would say about me now, talking to a horse. What is the world coming to?"
After a long hall, spending a day in the pouring ran, and nearly being unseated innumerable times by her finicky stead, she made it to the edge of the Edoras. Riding into the town she smiled at the many garden's that were on display, the children running across the streets, and the sound of laughter bouncing off the different alleyways of the city. She made her way down one of these alleys, weaving through the city towards Red Horse Inn, one of those popular among the Riders of the Mark. Pulling her hood tighter over her head, she dismounted, moving into the stables to rub down a antsy Cardoc. He snorted and chuffed at her as she tired to hurry and get him all cleaned up, making sure that his hooves were fine, no cracks or overgrown nails. Finally after what seemed like forever she was able to meet his approval with the feed and the amount of hay in his stall.
"You are the most difficult horse that I have ever had in all of my years," she muttered, grabbing her things and walking to the door of the inn.
Striding inside, she surveyed the room with a critical eye. Her face momentarily lit up upon seeing a figure surrounded by other riders playing a game of dice at one table and knucklebones at another, before schooling her face into the emotionless facade she had perfected over the years. It was soon broken by the jolly face of the young innkeepers wife.
"Ahh, Audra, you've returned once again to us!" Cried the young woman, rushing forward, all smiles.
Smiling widely, Thennil received the tight hug from the motherly young woman, gasping a little at her incredible grip.
"I'll have a room set up for you in no time, I hope you don't mind that it's a corner room." the woman babbled, seating her at one of the many tables at her establishment, "The riders have returned sooner than expected, and are most likely going to be home for a while, much to the joy of all of their wives."
She nodded, taking the plate that was set before her. Ignoring the fact that there was meat on her plate, she dug in hungrily. Cooking skinny, tough coneys was a challenge on the plains, and they tended to be very dry, not even the meager grave she had been able to create had been able to moisten them. She had steadily migrated away from her people's normal diet of vegetables and fruits with small bits of dairy and fish supplementing their diet, there wasn't much in the way of edible greens in the southern regions that she had spent most of her time in.
She could hear the men laugh and jest as their games continued, now and then she hear the soft chuckle of that one person that had popped back up into her life again. He had grown much since she had last seen him, he had become a man in her absence. She had watched him from afar when he had first come to join the Riders, having already spent time among his people learning their ways. The boyish chubbiness that she had teased him over had disappear, replaced by an angular face, sharp silvery-blue grey eyes, if that were possible in a man, his short little legs had grown long, his shoulders broader, more muscled since he had joined the riders. Along his jawline there was a shadow of a beard, one that had been trimmed, but never totally controlled. The light hair that he had possessed as a child had darkened to a deep brown-black, and was quite shaggy.
Lifting her eyes, she watched as he sat down across from her, Magdiln ceasing her chatter and leaving them as she went to greet another patron. She continued to eat in silence, flicking her eyes up to look at him now and again. He waited, watching her intently, his eyes scanning over her features frantically at first, then slowing as he realized that she was unharmed. Finishing her plate, she sopped up the remaining gravy with a piece of soft rye bread. She plopped the morsel into her mouth, licking her fingers quickly before wiping them on her tunic. Neither of them spoke, looking the other over, examining them intensely.
"You have grown, penneth," she said, picking up her mug of mead, sipping from it slowly while watching him from over the rim.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd have noticed," he said, surprising her with he deeper voice.
"And you're voice has changed," she commented, avoiding his accusing eyes.
"Why didn't you return to Imladris?"
"I had business to attend to elsewhere."
"I was waiting for you," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I sat at the gates every day when I wasn't doing my studies or in the training field with the twins or Glorfindel. I waited for you to return."
She flinched at the accusation in his tone, "And I wanted to, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of a few."
"So I didn't matter?"
She inhaled sharply, his broken tone breaking her heart, "No, you mattered. I wanted to come to you, to be with you when you came of age, but my responsibilities lay elsewhere. I could not do my duty from Imladris."
He sighed, turning towards the fire, "I know what I am, who I am."
"And?" she asked, eager to hear his answer.
"I do not want it."
"What?" she nearly hissed, jaw liable to hit the floor it was hanging so loose.
"I don't want it, Thennil, how can I? My ancestors, what they-" he couldn't finish, closing his eyes.
"You are our last hope, Estel," she whispered, pleading with him, begging him with her tone.
"No," he said, looking down at the ring that rested on his finger.
She wanted to weep, the king did not want to be king, their hope was all but gone. "I do not like your decision, but I will stand by you none-the-less."
"Join me, then."
"In what?" she asked, instantly curious.
"I wish to travel back to Imladris, see our family," he stated, twisting the ring absentmindedly around his finger.
She twiddled her thumbs, looking into the fire, flashes of her home flying through her mind. She had not seen it in over forty years, her wanderings and watchfulness having led her down different roads, far away from the house of her father. She missed her brother's, their pranks, their conversations; and Glorfindel, her favorite sparring partner and companion.
"We could go through Lothlorien, I wouldn't mind spending a few weeks in my Grandmother's house before returning home entirely," she said, fingering the necklace about her neck.
He smiled, "I look forward to our journey."
"Aragorn, you sod! I knew that you would pull something on me during this trip!" she shouted angrily, her feet squishing about in slimy boots. She heard a shifting in the tall grass, turning she lunged forward, only to find the space empty.
She shuddered, trying not to gag as she continued to squelch around in her only pair of boots, "This is not funny you brute! These are the only pair of boots that I have, and now their filled with some kind of swamp scum thanks to you!"
Another soft movement, then a chuckle came from her right. Ignoring it, she moved in his general direction, but still away from the spot she could sense he crouched. He was still a boy at heart, at least when he was pulling pranks.
"I will get you for this, you clod!" she growled flexing her fingers, then lunging she grabbed for the man who plagued her. She yanked him up from the ground by his ear, making him squirm in her grip before breaking free.
"I always told you that I would get you one of these days, you had it coming," he said chuckling while he strapped on his weapons.
She rolled her eyes, picking up her things and walking away from him through the grass. Their horses had been set loose, but where within whistling distance if they were needed. Ignoring Aragorn's entreatments, she continued to walk. Not bothering to whistle for Cardoc she continued their journey, nose in the air. What was she ever going to do with that boy?
He quickly caught up with her, but did not apologize. She elbowed him in the gut, and dodged his attempt at swatting her. Prancing away she kept just out of arms reach for nearly an hour, teasing him as he tried to tackle her. She let him close after that hour, telling him to behave. He rolled his eyes, tramping after her as they walked across the plains. They did not need to speak to one another, enjoying the sound of the wind across the blades of grass or the chirping of the sparrows from their nests among the grasses.
Near dust Thennil began to feel uneasy, a forbidding feeling blooming in her chest. Something was not right, a darkness was growing in her mind. On the breeze she could smell something foul, reading of sweat and other awful odors. At first she guest it to be a sheep herder or a swine farm, but going over her geography of the area she realized that those farms were farther south and north, to far away for her to be able to smell the dirty animals. The birds singing was almost to soft to hear if they sang at all, their cheeps nervous. Something was coming.
They were about to head down a ravine when she stopped, listening, "Aragorn!"
He had frozen also, listening to the quiet, "Something's wrong."
She nodded, "Quietly."
Together they crept down the ravine, slipping and sliding along the shadows. Both held their breath as they neared the other side, their sharp eyes flickering back and forth, wandering over the grass and the crest of the hills around them. Barely making a sound, they made for the exit of the ravine, breaking into a silent run as they got closer. Shouts and snarls rent the night air as out of the brush jumped a band of orcs. Swords already drawn, the duo charged the ranks together, slashing and cutting at the foul creatures. Thennil cursed herself for not avoiding the ravine altogether. How could she have been so stupid? Cutting through the orcs in front of her she let out a scream of rage as the images of her mother's battered body resurfaced suddenly, her anger gaining control of her logical mind. She rushed through the orcs, her sword moving faster and faster, cutting an arm off here, stabbing an orc in the gut there, and beheading another. So engulfed with her emotions she threw caution to the wind, ignoring the noises around her as she vanquished her foes.
Gutting the last orc fro throat to naval she ripped her sword from it's lip body, letting it slump to the ground as she panted. She felt the racing of her heart slow, the animalistic look in her eyes dimmed and she stumbled back away from the corpses around her. Shock coursed through her veins, her stomach turning over and over, causing her to cover her mouth as she prevented herself from vomiting. She immediately withdrew her hand, being able to smell the death and rotten meat smell from the orcs on her hands. Dropping her sword to the ground as her fingers trembled with the aftershocks of her anger. What had come over her?
She had never been this angry or violent when it came to slaying orcs before, that was her brothers' forte. Her shaking hands felt her face, the smooth skin and the defined cheekbones. Closing her eyes she reigned in her feelings. That outburst had been unexceptable, she had never let herself loose control like that, and she vowed to never do so again. Turning from the horrific scene she looked for Aragorn. Scanning the shadows and the bodies she began to panic, he was no where to be found.
"Aragorn?" she panicked, voice rising octaves as she threw out her senses. "Aragorn!"
Turning at the sound of ragged breathing, her heart seized, and she rushed towards the noise. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, grabbing for her bag of herbs in the process. There was nothing there, looking down frantically she searched her person for the bag. It was gone. Heart pounding, breath coming in gasps she looked around her pushing over bodies near her in desperation. Not finding it she turned back to him. Even with only the light of the moon she was able to see that his face was paler than it should be, his black hair glistening with drying sweat. Feeling around his person she looked for a wound.
"Stop, Thennil," he finally gasped, eyes drifting open, then shut as he attempted to keep conscious.
"No, I can heal you," she refused, pulling at his tunic in hysteria, tears making her vision swim.
His hand shakily grabbed hers, though there wasn't much strength in his grip, "There is nothing you can do, the blade was to close to my heart, and it was poisoned, Thennil. I saw the color of the blade."
"No! No, you are going to be fine," she cried, looking at him in the eye.
"I'm dying," he gasped, face screwed up in a grimace.
"I'm an elf, I can heal you," she stated, belief in that fact wavering.
"Maybe it's better this way," he muttered, eyes fluttering.
"Don't talk like that, I don't know what I-what Arwen would do without you," she shuddered, realizing something for the first time, and it broke her.
"At least I was able to see you one more time," he whispered, lips turning blue as his beautiful silvery blue eyes fell shut. His breath rushed out of him like the last flutter of a butterflies wing, softly.
"Hhhhh!" tears leaking out, the fat drops falling down her face.
"No!" she cried, clinging to his chest, "Aragorn, Aragorn! You can't leave me!" she wept into his leather tunic, "I love you."
She clung to him, heart cracking, splintering, breaking. She loved him. She had loved him from the time she had held him in her arms, though it had changed over the years, growing from the love of a child to that between a man and a woman. But she had never told him because of Arwen's love for him. Weeping she looked up at the stars.
"Why?" she cried, "Why?"
Then running her hands through his hair, she began to sing the song that he had always begged for before bed as a small child:
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinuviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came-
She broke off, an agonizing sob breaking forth from her slender body. Shaking, she looked down at his face, tracing it with her bloody fingers. Closing her eyes, her grief took over, blinding. Tears fell upon his dirty face, dripping down to form tracks in the dirt. Slowly, bright golden lights began to form, entwining them both as she poured her very soul, her fea into her hands. She could feel the energy being drained from her body, her life force, her immortality passing through her fingertips as she let her inner power take over her body. It wrapped around him, the golden light slipping into his mouth, the power pulsing. Choking, she snapped her hand away from Aragorn's body, watching as the golden light began to fade.
Hauuuuuhh, he inhaled, lungs expanding and drinking in the air. Blinking she reached out tentatively, wondering if what she was seeing was even real. He stirred, eyes flickering open.
"Aragorn?" she asked barely above a whisper.
Turning his head, his eyes widened in worry as he saw her tears, "Thennil?"
"Aragorn!" she cried, flinging herself into his arms and holding him close, breathing deeply of his masculine grass-like scent.
"What-uhh," he stuttered bringing his arms to return the random hug.
As soon as his arms wrapped around her she leapt out of his embrace, brushing off her embarrassment with practiced ease as he rose from his prone position on the ground. Confused, he followed her, cleaning his sword and sheathing it, as she went and plucked her own blade from the ground yards away from where he stood.
"Come," she motioned, hurrying to the other side of the clearing, towards the exit.
"Thennil?" he asked as they rushed through the night, her keen eyes keeping them from tripping in the dark with the help of the stars and moon.
She ignored him, pushing them harder, the edge of the woods of Lorien in the distance. Her mind was running in every direction, trying to explain itself and her actions to her. Something was blooming within her, something that she knew could not ever be, at least in reality. They entered her grandmothers wood soon after dawn and were shown to the rooms prepared for them. Aragorn fell fast asleep upon the soft bed, the worries of the road washed away by a peaceful sleep he had not encountered in ages. Thennil on the other hand paced her room, having changed into new clothes after bathing in one of the many pools. She could not sit still, not even when she had meditated.
Grabbing a cloak, she hurried through the woods, down the many winding paths, and through the brush, skirt snagging on twigs as she rushed through. Down twisted, forgotten paths she tread, her mind traveling to the place she found peace far before her feet touched its soil. Coming to the edge of a great hole in the ground, she climbed over the intertwined roots of the great trees that rose up to greet the sky. Ignoring the long skirt that encumbered her she pressed on towards the edge, grabbing onto the lowest limb of one of the trees she flung herself around and over the edge. For a split second she hung over the edge, the possibility of falling to her death very probable, before landing on the protruding exposed roots of the great trees. Settling into the twisted roots, she leaned back against the trunk of the tree closing her eyes.
She inhaled deeply, drinking the peace that she felt in this place. She knew that it was strange to feel peace when at any moment you could go plunging to your death, but it was here that she felt like she could leave the world behind. This place had long been hidden deep within her grandmother's woods, a place full of beauty. What was a pit was not a deep, dark, entirely dangerous pit. This pit was full of life. It was wide, and deep, ledges of stone grew from the sides and strange pillars from it's depths covered in foliage. Numerous streams flowed into the pit, creating waterfalls and pools, the sunlight filtering down and shining on the many flowers that had come to grow among the ledges. It was untouched even by her people, and here she was.
She did not know for how long she sat there, eyes closed and dead to the world around her. It could have been raining and she wouldn't have felt or sensed a thing so deep within her mind did she dwell. There she looked for answers, for wisdom. Slowly, she allowed her senses to return, letting the light flood into her eyes, feeling her blood course through her veins, hearing the breeze as it swirled around her.
"You are troubled, penneth," came her grandmother's voice from beside her.
Aye, I am.
"You are afraid."
"I'm not just afraid of this feeling, this emotion," she whispered, guilt building in her gut, "If I pursue this I will be betraying Arwen's trust. She has given her heart to him, and he to her."
"Sometimes the best thing to do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, and not obsess over something. Perhaps it is not what you think, penneth." Her grandmother stated, combing through her granddaughters hair with her long pale fingers, soothing.
"How can I not?"
"You overthink things far to often, child, sometimes your mind needs more time to accept what your heart already knows. It might take a day, weeks, or years, but what's meant to be will always find a way," her grandmother chided.
She said nothing as her grandmother disappeared from her side, looking across the pit. Not long after Arwen came tumbling through the brambles, something clutched in her hand, concern etched on her ageless features. Settling down beside her sister she said nothing, sensing that was what her sister needed at the moment. She could tell that whatever her grandmother had told her sister had turned her world upside-down, and she was trying to piece it all back together. Their grandmother could be quite troublesome at times, especially for her granddaughters. Sighing she rested her soft hand over the rough one of her sister, squeezing gently. They sat together, watching the sun slowly drift lower and lower in the sky as the birds songs began to fade into silence as the moon and stars rose. It had been many years since she had had any contact with her elder sister, and she could see the small changes that had been wrought upon her person. There was more worry within her blue eyes, concern for the world they lived in as it slowly got darker and darker. She was weighed down by many things, most of all the protection of her own family.
"I don't know what Grandmother said, but I think that you should listen to her," she whispered lovingly, "She is not known as the wisest of our people for nothing."
So saying, she let the object fall into her sisters hand, standing and moving away, "Keep it safe, Thennil, as only you can."
Looking down, Thennil wrinkled her brow in utter confusion, puzzled beyond belief. Laying in the palm of her hand was the ring of Barahir.
Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Yes, I time jumped like you YveMarieFan, but she wasn't with the Rangers! ;)
So, I really appreciate the response that I got for my last chapter, it was pretty fantastic! It might have something to do with how quickly I got this chapter out...
So please, comment, review, message me! I love hearing what you have to say!
Thanks as always,
Robin
