The Shards of Sorrow

by D.R. Swiridovic

The Deathly Hallows had cursed Heather Potter and sundered her from the Gift of Men. To call her the Master of Death was too kind and too cruel for a creature as pitiful as she had become. In pursuit of breaking this curse and finding Death, instead, she finds Life.

22. Delivered by the Winds

Author Note: Inspired by "Steady is the Hand" by rhosinthorn. Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed my story.

Long chapter…

The Shards of Sorrow

Review: The Company arrive in Caras Galadhon—the City of Trees—before meeting Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Branwen is nervous of meeting her adoptive grandparents and is relieved to be welcomed with open arms. During their initial meeting, she relates the circumstances of Gandalf's passing and their journey thus far. The Company and the Lord and Lady speak for a while before the rest of the Company, sans Branwen, is dismissed back down to the forest floor for rest, food, and drink.

Branwen stays with her grandparents in their home and learns that they are already familiar with her due to letters from Elrond and Arwen. Elrond and Arwen have also recommended, through letters, that Branwen speak and reveal the truth of herself to her grandparents. Her grandparents are happy to see Branwen and welcome her into their home. Galadriel recommends she stays in Arwen's room, as Arwen had suggested, so that Branwen feels closer to her sister. Branwen sleeps easily that night.

Arwen has been training nonstop with sword and magic since the Company departed in December and has no desire to stop. She feels that an opportunity to play a part is coming up and she refuses to miss it. Her father has something being completed by Erestor after observing her.

Branwen sits down with her grandparents and speaks at length of her tale. Celeborn, while fascinated, has no knowledge of how she might be becoming an Elf or the nature of the Shards of Sorrow. Galadriel explains that Elrond asked her to use her Mirror to try and divine the Shards. Branwen accepts before they go out and walk among the Galadhrim and she is introduced to many of the Galadhrim Elves.

She goes to spend time with the Company and, much later in the evening, Galadriel comes and they go to the Mirror. Branwen sees a vision of the moment when the Deathly Hallows were created by the Shards of Sorrow, a second vision of two figures splayed across a mountainside, a third vision of her nursing an infant with greenish-grey eyes, and a fourth vision of her sitting numb on a mountaintop overlooking the ruins of Minas Tirith and the all-encompassing Shadow of Mordor while she is buried in ash and snow.

Galadriel is unable to decipher the Shards of Sorrow but tells Branwen that she has no need for a staff as the Shards will serve her, but she must accept them. As she is an Elf, she does not require a staff like the Istari do—who possess bodies crafted like Men. Branwen spends the next few weeks meditating on the Shards, sparring with Aragorn for practice, meditating in Galadriel's garden with Aragorn often next to her, and then spending time in the evenings with the Company. One night after singing a song in observance of Gandalf's passing, she shares her secret with the Company—she was once human and is now becoming an Elf.

Chapter Twenty-One – Delivered by the Winds

The Third Age – February 14th, 3019

"My lady, your presence has been requested. Lord Celeborn has summoned your Company."

Branwen looked over to the ladder and saw the grey clad servant that had spoken to her. She had eaten dinner with the Company a short while ago and had retreated back up to the viewing platforms above her grandparents' dwelling to meditate more on the Shards of Sorrow.

It was hard to believe that tomorrow would be a month to the day since Gandalf had fallen down in Moria. She felt that the time here in Lothlórien had both crawled along and jumped forward in leaps and bounds. Each moment felt long, as if the Light of Galadriel would not see a single second pass here in Lothlórien, but the days seemed to be gone before Branwen realized it.

Branwen felt that her connection with the Shards had deepened…barely. Regardless of how much she dwelled on them and drew on them, it seemed that Branwen could not channel spells as she had been able to with her wand-staff. It was maddening! Especially as Branwen had known their time was coming to a close here in Lórien. If anything, this call from Celeborn was the signal that they were to be departing soon.

As she walked into the hall, Branwen froze. Celeborn sat in his throne looking over the assembled Elves and the Company that had gathered. Galadriel was to his left…but Galadriel seemed diminished. In Branwen's Sight, and even to her mundane eyes, Galadriel looked so worn. Branwen Saw that the Ring did not touch Galadriel's heart as Branwen had noticed it had before… Had Galadriel cast it away from her? What had happened?

Branwen stood next to the rest of the Company, wearing a dress of silver. Since her confession of her humanity to the Company, none had mentioned anything. The Hobbits seemed to have taken it in stride after the initial night and treated her much the same. Legolas and Gimli were still respectful, though she could tell the curiosity was there. Boromir could only be described as perplexed, but he kept his distance from her entirely now.

Celeborn, seeing her join them, then raised his hands towards the Company, "Greetings, friends! I hope that your time here in Lórien has eased your hearts and allowed your bodies and spirits rest. While I wish that you could bask in Elven Bliss for as long as you were able, we must now speak of your path that leads forward."

The Company seemed to straighten up a bit as Celeborn interlaced his fingers, "Now is the time when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here for a while longer. But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. For we are now come to the edge of doom.

Here, those who wish, may await the coming of the hour until either the ways of the world lie open again or we summon them to the last need of Lórien. Then they may return to their own lands or else go to the long home of those that fall in battle."

Branwen glanced over to the Company to take in their faces. While she could remain, Branwen knew she had no choice—there was no Death for her to be reunited with those she cared of. All she could do was attempt to shield those she cared for from Death. That way lay with the Company and she was bound to Aragorn's safety. Branwen Saw Galadriel had reached out her magic toward the Company and, she could admit, it relieved Branwen's heart to See Galadriel exercise it. She just seemed so…fragile in her Sight.

Galadriel declared, "They all resolve to go forward."

Boromir said, "As for me, my way home lies onward and not back."

Celeborn replied, "That is true, but is all this Company going with you to Minas Tirith?"

Branwen felt that was most certainly not the case. With her Sight, she could See the Ring still had a good hold on Boromir's heart. It was easy for her to imagine him ordering it handed over if they went to Minas Tirith and taking it. And Branwen did not want to think of the headache and likely bloodshed that would follow. All would be lost if they attempted to weaponize the Ring that held a part of Sauron's soul.

Aragorn answered, "We have not decided our course. Beyond Lothlórien, I do not know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed, I do not think that even he had a clear purpose."

Celeborn hummed, "Maybe not, yet when you leave this land, you can no longer forget the Great River. As some of you know well, it cannot be crossed by travelers with baggage between Lórien and Gondor, save by boat. And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken and all the landings now held by the Enemy?

On which side will you journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon this side, the West, but the straight road of the Quest lies East of the River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now take?"

Boromir spoke up, his voice level and sounding logical, if Branwen could not see the tightening grip of the Ring, "If my advice is heeded, it will be the Western shore, and the way to Minas Tirith. But I am not the leader of the Company."

Branwen saw the others had little to say, but Aragorn himself appeared conflicted. She would counsel him on her fears once they had some time alone together. The Ring must not go to Minas Tirith.

Celeborn observed, "I see that you do not yet know what to do. It is not my part to choose for you, but I will help you as I may. There are some among you who can handle boats—Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest River, Branwen, who has journeyed the Great River before, Boromir of Gondor, and Aragorn the traveler."

Merry declared, "And one Hobbit! Not all of us look on boats as wild horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine!"

Celeborn seemed amused and responded, "That is well. Then I will furnish your Company with boats. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are places where you will be forced to carry them. You will come to the rapids of Sarn Gebir and maybe to the great falls of Rauros, where the River thunders down from Nen Hithoel. And there are other perils. Boats may make your journey less toilsome for a while. Yet they will not give you counsel—in the end, you must leave them and the River and turn West or East."

Aragorn began to thank Celeborn for his generosity as Branwen considered if she would have the time to apply enchantments to the boats to make them lighter. She did not believe that the wind oar she previously created would be of much use as she doubted any but her would be able to use them. Maybe Legolas and maybe even Aragorn, but none of the others. Would there even be a point attempting to enchant the boats though? Without her full power, it would likely only a be a marginal enchantment at best and maybe not even last long enough to get to the end of their journey on the Anduin. Also, her trick of going over the rapids with a surge of water over the rocks was unlikely to be available due to her lack of staff. She very sincerely doubted any of the Fellowship would be interested in potentially crashing and being swept away.

At the very least, it would be better than walking…

Celeborn accepted Aragorn's thanks before he declared, "All shall be prepared for you and await you at the haven before noon tomorrow. I will send my people to you in the morning to help you make ready for the journey. Now, we will wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep."

Galadriel bid them, "Good night, my friends! Sleep in peace! Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thoughts of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them. Good night!"

That seemed to be a queue for the Elves in attendance and they began to get up and depart. Branwen was lost in thought when Aragorn told her, "Though it is against Lady Galadriel's advice, we would have a council tonight among the Company. Will you join us?"

Branwen nodded, "Yes. I also have some concerns I would like to speak with you of. But it can wait until after."

Aragorn replied, "Very well. Let us descend with the rest. Legolas will be coming as well."

Branwen followed down to the pavilion on the forest floor. She and Aragorn found the rest had already taken to the couches that they had been sleeping on the last month. Aragorn took his seat and Branwen took the remaining one next to him.

҉

Aragorn felt only conflict within himself. If only Gandalf had not fallen, things would be different. The time here in Lórien had not helped him decide either and he felt surely that too much time had passed, even though it was difficult to tell the days apart in a haven of Elven Bliss like Lothlórien.

Aragorn saw the others were looking upon him. So, he cleared his throat and asked, "Well then, let us see whether we can decide our course this evening or not. As Lord Celeborn said, we have two paths—West to Minas Tirith or East straight to our final destination. Let us hear what each of us has to say. Gimli, why don't you start us off."

Gimli tugged at his beard with thought before he said, "…I am inclined to head West to Minas Tirith. We still have a long journey ahead…and perchance there may be news that has not reached Lórien that might sway our decision in how we might enter the Dark Land."

Gimli looked to Legolas next to him and Legolas spoke, "I am unsure… I am find myself agreeing with Gimli."

Next to Legolas, Merry declared, "I think we ought to go West to Minas Tirith."

Pippin nodded, "What he said!"

Sam spoke, "I'll follow wherever Mister Frodo wants to go!"

Next to Sam, Frodo looked up, but he appeared just as conflicted as Aragorn had been in the meeting. He dropped his head back down and it was clear he did not plan to speak. Boromir then said, "My counsel remains the same—West to Minas Tirith."

That was the majority of the Fellowship deciding for Minas Tirith.

Eyes then came to Branwen. She seemed as resolute as Boromir and spoke with no hesitation or wavering in her voice, "I am disinclined to go West to Minas Tirith. We cannot know if servants of the Enemy have infiltrated the city. Second, it would place us right within view of the Enemy as he watches Minas Tirith most closely. There would be no sneaking away silently once we come within a certain distance of the city, let alone enter it. Correct me if I am wrong, but the Enemy's forces are most concentrated there to hold the line against Gondor. Also, it brings us perilously close to Minas Morgul—the fortress of the Witch-King and the rest of the Nine. If the Shadow of the Nine has spread far enough towards Minas Tirith, the Ring may be able to alert them of its location, as it did when we were fleeing from them to Rivendell. Minas Tirith is all but closed to us and we must head East."

Aragorn almost wanted to chuckle. Of course, Branwen would choose the way in which they relied on others the least and went straight into the final peril. None could call her a coward and, though she was small compared to Men and Elves and appeared as delicate as the flower blossoms that she shamed with her beauty, she seemed nearly so formidable as Caradhras the Cruel himself. He found it strengthened his own heart…but still there remained conflict on their path.

He noticed that Gimli, Legolas, Merry, and Pippin now looked less sure in their decision while Frodo appeared to be even more hesitant. Boromir was resolute in his words and showed no wavering as did Sam. Sam did not care where as long as he was at Frodo's side. What a loyal servant he was.

Aragorn spoke, "…I too am unsure and I wonder what Gandalf's counsel would have been…"

Aragorn's plan had been to go with Boromir, the re-forged Andúril with him, to do his part in fighting against the Enemy in Gondor. He had thought the prophetic dream Boromir had shared during the Council of Elrond was a summons of Fate that it was time for him to step out of the Wilderness and face Sauron as the Heir of Elendil. He had thought Branwen to go at his side as well, and, together, they would have waged war on the servants of Sauron and drawn attention away from Gandalf as he journeyed forth with the rest to see the Ring to Orodruin.

However, it was not meant to be, as Gandalf had fallen and now it came to the question—what to do? Aragorn could not abandon the Ring if Frodo chose not to go to Minas Tirith. Branwen had also raised concerns about Minas Tirith as well. But what use could Aragorn be to Frodo if the Hobbit decided to go East? He did not know those paths and would be as lost in the darkness as Frodo himself.

Boromir interrupted his thoughts and said, "I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty."

Aragorn felt a stab to his heart as the word 'duty' as he weighed the two charged to him at the same time—take up his birthright and battle the servants of Shadow to save his people from more harm and death…or walk into the Dark Lands to destroy the Ring.

Boromir seemed to stare into Frodo in the silence…and Aragorn noticed that Branwen seemed to be staring back into Boromir with a clenched jaw.

҉

Branwen looked around in the silence to See how the Ring was affecting them. It was most strongly wound about Frodo, who appeared to still be resisting quite well, and around Boromir. Of him, she could not tell, but feared the worst. The rest seemed to have gained some relief from the Ring's influence in Lothlórien, but now it seemed something else was holding on their hearts—fear.

She clenched her jaw as the tendrils of blackness wound tighter around Boromir's heart. If only she had her staff! Branwen knew that, without her full strength, she would do little more than vanquish the flimsiest of the Ring's influence.

Boromir continued, as if the long pause had only been a moment, and spoke directly to Frodo, "If you wish only to destroy the Ring, then there is little use in war and weapons, and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help."

And what was that supposed to mean? Only destroy the Ring?

Boromir said, "But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain. And folly to throw away—…"and he paused suddenly and resumed, "It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean. It is a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of Death. At least, that is how I see it."

Frodo's face showed he had caught the slip that Branwen had noticed as well. In Aragorn's face, she only saw indecisiveness but she knew already what must be—the Ring could not go to Minas Tirith in a place where Boromir held power and Boromir would part from the Company, alone if that must be the case, when it came for them to depart from the Anduin.

Branwen would follow Aragorn wherever he went to protect him in these dark days, as she had promised Gilraen, and maybe it meant that the Ring would need to go with Legolas and Gimli watching over the Hobbits if Aragorn felt the need to go to Minas Tirith, but Boromir would not be able to continue on with the Ring.

҉

Aragorn stepped away into the darkened forest paths with Branwen after they had concluded their council with no course decided. His heart began to beat a bit faster, as it always did when he stepped off alone with her, but now it was not simply because of his affection toward her. There were dark thoughts that she wished to share.

Her voice was like a harp as she spoke, but with tidings far too ill, "Boromir cannot stay with the Company once we depart from the Anduin. His heart is being consumed by the Ring. When he spoke of folly, it was not the folly of lost lives, but the folly he believes it to be to destroy the Ring. The Ring cannot travel to Minas Tirith where he might seize it by force. I do not have the strength anymore without my staff to secure it either should Boromir bring force to bear in Minas Tirith."

Aragorn felt his throat go dry and said, "I do not think that would happen."

Branwen snorted, "Estel, Men not nearly so desperate tempted with far less have given into their desires. I know you think good of Boromir, and he may have good within him, but the Ring brings out only evil and darkness. I will follow you wherever it is that you may go, but the Ring cannot come to Minas Tirith and, if need be, Legolas and Gimli may need to see Frodo to Mordor."

Aragorn felt himself crumble inward a bit before he nodded, "Very well. Let us give Frodo time to pick his course…and then, when it is time to leave the Anduin…I will decide our path as well."

Branwen put a gentle hand on his forearm and his eyes found her emerald gaze that sent his stomach aflutter. She smiled and spoke, "Do not fear, Estel. Whatever path lays at our feet, as Lady Galadriel has said, I shall walk it with you and I will see you safe and whole to its end."

Aragorn covered her hand on his forearm with his own and smiled at her, "Thank you, Branwen. You give me comfort, knowing that I have at least one among our Company that I can trust without reservation."

Branwen's cheeks seemed to have become slightly pink in the darkness, though he could not be sure, and there was a curl to the corners of her shapely lips, "You're welcome, Estel… Now, we both must rest. We have a long journey still."

She removed her hand from his and she beckoned him with a backward glance along with her back to pavilion. As he settled on his couch and watched her petite form ascend back upwards to the heights of Celeborn's home, Aragorn could only sigh in a mixture of fondness for her and exasperation for himself.

Why was he doing this to himself…? Arwen's wicked laugh rang in his mind.

҉

The Third Age – February 15th, 3019

Branwen finished packing her bag as she needed. She had received some new arrows from Celeborn that were wonderfully light and expertly crafted to replace the ones she had received in Imladris. While the Elves of Imladris were expert craftsmen, the Elves of Lórien were superior with their bow and arrow craft.

Galadriel had also seen to it that she had received a goodly amount of lembas, a type of Elvish hardtack that was sweetened and stored in Mallorn leaves. Galadriel had also left her a cloak that was subtly woven with magic. With it was a note:

My dear Branwen,

Please take this cloak with you before you depart our home. I have woven it myself and, though it is not nearly so effective as your Veil, it shall aid you in diverting unfriendly eyes, wherever you may walk. It is both light, warm, and cool as is needed and woven with the colors of all things under the twilight of Lothlórien—leaf, branch, water, and stone. All of your Company now bear one, so I hope to ease your burned of shielding them, but only yours was woven solely by my hand.

Your grandfather and I shall see you soon.

Galadriel

It had warmed her heart to see the note. She threw the cloak over her shoulders, instead of the green one from Imladris, and fastened it with the broach shaped like a green leaf with veins of silver. Everything not needed, she left behind. Branwen did not know when, but she knew she would return here someday.

She had eaten breakfast alone, as Celeborn and Galadriel had departed very early that day, before she went down to the pavilion. As Branwen walked down passing through shafts of sunlight and deeper shadows, she saw the words of Galadriel rang true—her cloak seemed to shift from grey twilight, to shadowed green leaves, to dark brown earth, and even silvery water under starlight.

In the pavilion, she found the Company was garbed like her in their own cloaks, packing, and being loaded down with lembas themselves. She walked near them and waited patiently as she allowed her thoughts to settle. Though it hurt her heart to go, it was time to bid farewell to Lórien just as she had Imladris before.

Funnily enough, Branwen felt she might still prefer Imladris…if only just. That bathhouse and primitive plumbing could cure a lot of woes.

She noticed then that Haldir was approaching them. That was a pleasant surprise and Frodo greeted him gladly, "Haldir! What brings you here? Have you come to send us off?"

Haldir smiled at the Hobbit's enthusiasm, though his expression still seemed a bit heavy, "I have returned from the Northern Fences and I am sent now to be your guide again. The Dimrill Dale is full of vapor and clouds of smoke and the mountains are troubled. There are noises in the deeps of the earth. If any of you had thought of returning Northwards to your homes, you would not have been able to pass that way. But come! Your path now goes South!"

Haldir led them back to the Gates of Caras Galadhon under the murmuring voices and singing of the Elves of Lórien. When she looked up, Branwen saw a good many were watching her go and wishing her quiet farewells with raised hands. She could only wonder at the kindness of the Elves and felt grateful for Arwen, Elrond, Galadriel, and Celeborn. They had opened their family to her and she could not be any less humbled by it.

Haldir led them out of the city and then back into the trees heading Southeast towards the Anduin. The Company still seemed in a bit of the daze under the Light of Galadriel and it was nearly noon, ten miles behind them, before they came to a tall green wall like that one that had surrounded the city and then passed through it.

They had come out on the north side of the joining of the Silverlode and the Anduin and the end of the Mallorn trees. On the opposite side of the Silverlode, there were no Mallorn trees any longer, only the normal mundane trees of Middle Earth The banks of the Great River and farther South were bare of everything except brown grass, still dormant in winter. To the East, Branwen could See the Shadow of Mirkwood off in the distance.

Haldir walked them back up the Silverlode a good distance before they came to a sheltered harbor of white stone and wood, hidden by Mallorn trees, on a small hook of land just protruding out into the river. Within the harbor were a number of various watercrafts of white and grey wood, but many were painted silver, gold and green. As they walked to the harbor, Branwen saw three small boats had been set for them. Sam began chatting with one of the Elves there about the coils of rope that had been placed in the boat—slender and grey like the sort that they had used to cross the Silverlode into the Naith of Lórien a month back.

Haldir said, "Come! All is now ready for you. Enter the boats! But take care at first!"

Another Elf followed, "Heed the words! These boats are light-built and they are crafty and unlike the boats of other folk. They will not sink, lade them as you will, but they are wayward if mishandled. It would be wise if you accustomed yourselves to stepping in and out, here where there is a landing-place, before you set off downstream."

Branwen took the boat with Frodo and Aragorn. Sam was not particularly happy about not being by his master, but he seemed comforted knowing that the Company leader and Witch were there to watch over Frodo. He instead sat with Legolas and Gimli, who had become good friends over their month together in Lórien. Boromir, Pippin, and Merry took the last boat.

Branwen sat at the prow of the boat, feeling sad as they began to part from Lórien. They came out of the harbor and into the Silverlode. The water looked lovely under sunlight and golden leaves of the Mallorn trees and Branwen hoped to savor this a while longer, only birdsong in the air, as they floated down the river. They came to a sharp bend and Branwen was first surprised and then understood Galadriel's note from earlier.

Coming upriver towards them was a large boat shaped most impressively like a swan. Two Elves were at the rear, guiding it with paddles, as Celeborn sat in the middle and Galadriel stood behind him. Both were clad in white but Galadriel also boasted a circlet of golden flowers and a harp. Galadriel sang a song of Lórien, the Fading of the Eldar, and of crossing the Sea into the West.

Branwen then understood what this meant with the sudden dimming of Galadriel's personal presence…Galadriel planned to go into the West soon. Branwen felt a strong sadness at the thought of Galadriel departing…but then thought, should all go well and Aragorn became King, maybe she too would soon go into the West, relatively speaking.

Aragorn pulled their boat alongside the swan ship and Galadriel said, "We have come to bid our last farewell and to speed you with blessings from our lands."

Celeborn followed, "Though you have been our guests, aside from our dear granddaughter, you have yet to eat with us. Therefore, we bid you to a parting feast, there between the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lórien."

The swan ship settled against a small harbor, just before the Anduin, and Aragorn steered them into it to follow. Stepping out, they found a feast had been laid out on the grass where they had walked earlier, among the elanor flowers. Branwen sat with Galadriel and Celeborn; Aragorn and Frodo alongside her. Branwen felt saddened to see that the power of Galadriel seemed to have waned so sharply. She had not had the chance to speak with Galadriel last night either, she having gone to rest by the time Branwen had returned to the house the previous evening. Branwen could only imagine that it had something to do with the Ring as, even now, it resolutely refused to attempt to influence the Elf-Lady. Branwen noticed the hidden Ring on her hand, that Branwen had come to believe was one of the Three, seemed dimmer in its power as well.

As they ate, Celeborn spoke to them of the road ahead, "As you go down the water, you will find that the trees will fail and you will come to barren country. There, the River flows in the stony vales amid high moors, until at last, after many miles, it comes to the tall island of the Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir.

There the River casts its arms about the steep slopes of the isle and falls then with a great noise and smoke over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf; the Wetwang as it is called in your tongue. That is a wide region of sluggish fen where the stream becomes torturous and much divided.

There the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan. On the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the Black Gates of Mordor.

Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet they should not go too far up that stream nor risk becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn. That is a strange land and is now little known. But Boromir and Aragorn doubtless do not need this warning."

Branwen had not been so far South along the Anduin to the Falls of Rauros. When she had been down the Great River previously, she left the river behind at the very Southern edge of the Wold of Rohan before the moors. She had heard of Fangorn Forest though and that it was a rather queer place with strange and dark trees.

Boromir responded, "Indeed, we have heard of the Fangorn in Minas Tirith. But what I have heard seems to me, for the most part, old wives' tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north of Rohan is now to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there. Of old, Fangorn lay upon the borders of our realm, but it is now many lives of Men since any of us visited it, to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years.

I have, myself, been at whiles in Rohan, but I have never crossed it Northwards. When I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts of the White Mountains and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey. Twelve-hundred miles, I reckoned it, and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that journey, and the road I have trodden with this Company, I do not much doubt that I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be."

Branwen warned Boromir, "I have made that journey North from Minas Tirith, just as you had, but continued more Northward to the Ruins of Fornost many decades ago. While the Shadow of Moria was indeed fierce, do not underestimate the Shadow of an ancient forest either. Not all malicious things are evil, some merely do not tolerate outsiders, and, in my experience, ancient forests have just as much things to fear as do dark caves."

Celeborn nodded, "Branwen speaks truly. In any case, I need say no more. But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant year, for often it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful of the wise to know."

Before Boromir could respond, Galadriel rose up and received a glass of mead from an Elf-maiden. She presented to Celeborn and said, "Now, it is time to drink the cup of farewell. Drink, Lord of the Galadhrim! And let not your heart be sad, though night must follow noon, and already our evening draws near."

Celeborn drank from the cup and Galadriel then presented it to Branwen, "Though our hearts are saddened to see you part from us, we are glad to have met our youngest granddaughter. If we should not meet again on these shores, we look forward to gathering again in the Undying Lands and we will rejoice at our reunion! Should we arrive there before you, I shall share glad tidings with your mother of the wonderful daughter that she has been gifted."

Branwen felt her eyes grow hot and took a drink of the mead, spiced and sweet, before Galadriel moved down the line to Frodo, then Aragorn, and the rest in turn with a word for each. Chairs were the brought out for Celeborn and Galadriel. Upon sitting, Galadriel said, "We have drunk the cup of parting and the shadows fall between us. But before you go, I have brought in my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlórien. Aragon, step forward."

Aragorn presented himself and Galadriel awarded him a sword sheath with floral and leaf filigree in silver and gold. Gemstones formed Elven script pronouncing the name Andúril and the sword's lineage. Galadriel spoke, "Here is the gift of Celeborn and Galadriel to the leader of your Company. The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat, but is there not else that you desire of me at our parting? For darkness will flow between us and it may be that we shall not meet again, unless it be far upon a road that has no returning."

Branwen noticed that Aragorn seemed to hesitate before he smiled and said, "My lady, you know all my desire and what I now seek. Yet, it is not yours to give, even if you would, and only through darkness shall I come to it."

Galadriel hummed before she said, "Yes, I know of the jewel that you pursue and the other that you covet."

Branwen wondered for what that meant as Aragorn flinched before Galadriel smiled with some amusement and replied, "But, as you said, it is not my place to give either. Yet maybe this will lighten your heart for it was left in my care to be give to you, should you pass through this land."

Branwen's thoughts flew away as Galadriel revealed a large stone of translucent emerald in a silver broach that had been crafted in the shape of an eagle with spread wings. The Elf-lady said, "This stone I gave to my daughter, Celebrían, and she to her oldest daughter. Now, it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour, take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!"

Branwen felt the power of Galadriel's words, even with her power diminished, and knew that Elessar was no mere epithet; it was a pronouncement of destiny as Galadriel had said. Aragorn stood, taking the brooch and pinning it to his chest, and it seemed as if he had lost decades as he stood young, vigorous, and noble. He responded, "For the gifts that you have given me, I thank you. Lady of Lórien, of who were sprung Celebrían and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?"

Galadriel smiled and replied, "Watch over my youngest granddaughter, Branwen Morningstar, on your path and I shall be satisfied."

Branwen felt her cheeks warm as they bowed their heads to one another, and Galadriel turned to Boromir. She spoke pretty words of Gondor and presented him a golden belt. Merry and Pippin were given matching silver belts. Legolas was gifted a bow of the Elves of Lórien, which was larger and more powerful than the short bows that the Elves of the Woodland Realm used, along with a quiver of arrows. Branwen recognized, looking at Legolas' bow, that her own bow, gifted from Elrohir, had been of Galadhrim make as well.

To Sam, she gave a box of black earth from her orchard and left him with words promising a garden that few in Middle Earth could compare to if he sprinkled the dirt over his land. She finished with Sam by giving cryptic warnings of the Fading of Eldar, "Then you may remember Galadriel and catch a glimpse of far-off Lórien that you have only seen in winter. For our Spring and our Summer are gone by, and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory."

Galadriel then turned to Gimli and seemed just the slightest perplexed, "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?"

Gimli met Galadriel's eyes even as he bowed his head with the utmost respect, "None, my lady. It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim and to have heard her gentle words."

Galadriel laughed with delight, "Hear, all Elves! Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! You have looked upon both of my granddaughters, heralded as the most beautiful since Tinúviel herself, and even travel with one, and still you say such sweet words! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift!"

Branwen felt her cheeks flush a bit again as Galadriel said such a kind thing of her. Gimli only had eyes for Galadriel though and he bowed again and then stuttered a bit, "There is nothing, Lady Galadriel. Nothing, u-unless it might b-be…unless it is permitted to ask…no, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire."

Branwen almost laughed at the fervent and heartfelt words from Gimli even as the other Elves began to whisper amongst one another in astonishment while Celeborn looked at Gimli as if he had never seen a Dwarf before. Gimli did not appear embarrassed by his request and only waited with a bowed head. Galadriel smiled broadly, "It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues, yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?"

Gimli answered without hesitation, "Treasure it, my lady, in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And, if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the End of Days."

Branwen felt her eyebrows go up. She was both surprised as the lasting impression Galadriel had left upon Gimli and the poetic words he spoke. Who would have thought? Galadriel unbraided one of the coils of her hair and ran her fingers through it to remove three long golden strands. She placed them in Gimli's open hand, who looked at them with awe, as she said, "These words shall go with the gift. I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain—on the one hand lies darkness and on the other only hope. If hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold and yet, over you, gold shall have no dominion."

Galadriel then turned to Branwen and favored her with the warmest smile yet. She said, "There are many things that I wish to be able to gift my youngest granddaughter, but I fear that so many would be things that you could easily craft yourself and with far greater results, especially once you have mastered yourself as you strive to do."

Branwen smiled, "I need no gift from you or grandfather, grandmother. Your acceptance of me and affection is more than I have ever dreamed to possess."

Galadriel brought her hands to Branwen's face and said, "And I had never thought to be blessed with another grandchild, and yet, here you stand. But, though you are not a guest, as Gimli, I will not have you leave us without a token of reminder, for the days of Lórien are numbered."

Galadriel then withdrew a delicate silver circlet set with a singular marquise-cut emerald. The emerald seemed to glow softly as Galadriel set it on Branwen's brow for a perfect fit. The Elf-Lady declared, "I gift you now a crown of mithril with an elfstone that possesses the first light captured from the dawn so that all may know you as Anaróriel—the Morningstar. Though you have been told of your strength, it delights me to be able to declare you for what you are—I recognize you as Lady Branwen Anaróriel of the House of Elrond and of the Galadhrim and an equal in strength among the Elven powers of Middle Earth, among which stand myself, Lord Celeborn, Lord Elrond, and Lord Glorfindel. Tales of your power, even now, spread amongst our people as one who has stood against the Nine and come out victorious. May you shine as a beacon before the Fading of the Elves against the Shadow that threatens to consume Middle Earth."

Galadriel stepped back and inclined her head a bit, an acknowledgement of an equal, and the Elves around bowed much lower. Branwen felt her face become very warm before Celeborn said softly to her with a smile, "It suits you. Feel no shame for what you have been blessed with, for we know that you shall perform great feats."

҉

Frodo watched with some awe as Branwen was crowned. To be acknowledged as an Elf-Lady, not simply as a lady of her people, but as an Elven power was incredible. Though he had heard that Branwen was thought to be so powerful and he had seen it with his own eyes, to see it acknowledged by the Elf-Lady who had been so beautiful and terrible in the previous night was simply remarkable.

Even as he thought of their interaction, Galadriel's words rang in his mind, 'In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!'

As Frodo looked upon Branwen, he was reminded then of the vision he had seen of her when he wore the Ring on Weathertop—hair darker than midnight, her face shining like the moon, a veil and shroud of twilight, a blazing jewel at her throat, and her eyes like blazing emerald stars.

In the moment that Galadriel had spoken, she had seemed tall beyond his perception, beautiful beyond comprehension, and so terrible as to be worthy of prostration and worship. Branwen, he realized, had been the same as Galadriel and she had not even turned her attention upon him.

It had Frodo worried the smallest bit. Galadriel had been tempted, even in her great power, for the Ring and had denied herself and was diminished for it. Branwen had only ever seemed disgusted by the Ring…but was it simply an act? Of their Company, only she was resolute of taking the Ring East and not going to Minas Tirith…and Frodo could only wonder.

Branwen bowed her head, "Thank you, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn. I shall strive to meet your expectations."

Galadriel kissed the top of her head softly before she turned to Frodo and drove his thoughts away as she said, "And you, Ring-bearer. I come to you last who are not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared this."

She presented a small crystal phial filled with silver water that shined with powerful white light. Galadriel explained, "In this phial is caught the light of Ëarendil's Star set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror!"

Frodo took the phial and its light shone bright for a moment and he saw Galadriel, her Truth revealed under its light, and she was once more tall and beautiful beyond his grasp, but she was no longer terrible. His eyes turned and he saw the barest Truth of Branwen as well under the Light of Ëarendil's Star and she was not so tall as Galadriel but she was beautiful and so very terrible—her face glowing with light, a fire at the base of her throat, and her eyes like lamps.

The phial's light dimmed and Frodo turned back to Galadriel. He was met with a smile and her voice in his mind, 'The power that Lady Anaróriel wields is indeed as great as it is terrible, but fear not, Frodo Baggins, for she most assuredly chains herself far more fiercely than any other could do to her. Her sister, Arwen, was named as Undómiel for the Evenstar and as a sign that the Elves were in the twilight of our time here on Middle Earth. Branwen is named the Morningstar because her coming is a sign of a new dawn of things to come. What that may be, it is not known, but the Dawn can be both beautiful and terrible as the Sun burns away the Night, can it not?'

Frodo did not have any words to say to that, but he began to understand that not all Light was gentle. Sometimes, it was fierce and blinding.

҉

Branwen received embraces from her grandparents once more before boarding the boat with Aragorn and Frodo. Both Aragorn and Frodo seemed deep in thought as they contemplated the gifts that they had been given. Branwen was tempted to remove the circlet from herself and look at it more closely but refrained.

She took her place at the prow as Aragorn pushed them out into the water and the current of the Silverlode took them out into the Anduin. The Elves of Lórien bid them farewell and Branwen raised her hand in return and found smiles gifted to her for her acknowledgement. It had been a long time since she felt like she belonged, but Branwen felt that again amongst the Elves.

She felt that she might never be able to thank Arwen and Elrond enough.

Her eyes then found her grandmother standing on the small stretch of the land that protruded out into the Anduin. She stood alone like a pure white sentinel crowned with gold. Branwen found she could not look away from Galadriel and saw the others were much the same, even as the Elf-Lady shrunk smaller and smaller as the Anduin swept them away.

Galadriel's voice then carried to them in song and Branwen allowed her Power over words to allow her to understand as her grandmother sang. The words echoed in her ears and she felt the lamentation within them.

"Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,

Long years numberless as the wings of trees!

The years have passed like swift draughts

Of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,

Beneath the blue vaults of Varda

Wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly.

Who now shall refill the cup for me?

For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars,

From Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds,

And all paths are drowned deep in shadow;

And out of a grey country darkness

Lies on the foaming waves between us,

And mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.

Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar!

Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.

Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!"

At the ringing of her last word, the River bent away and Branwen lost sight of Galadriel and Lothlórien. Branwen looked over and saw Gimli appeared to be openly crying as Legolas and Sam consoled him. Branwen turned her eyes forward and felt determination crystalize within her.

There were many things to be done…and she lacked the power to perform them. Branwen needed to regain access to her strength more than ever. As they floated, she allowed herself to settle into meditation, even as she felt Frodo's and Aragorn's eyes on her.

The Shards of Sorrow stood like beacons of strength within her soul, and still, she did not know how she was supposed to accept them more than already had.

The sun slowly sank away as they continued down the Great River, carried by current and only occasional corrections with their paddles. Mundane trees enclosed the river on both sides and left them unable to see beyond them.

Eventually, night came over the sky as the sun fell below the horizon and onward they went into the darkness as they floated along the Anduin. It became much colder, but Branwen felt immune to it as she focused deeply onto the Shards within her.

Soon, Aragorn called them to rest and paddled them to the Western shore to bed down for the night. Branwen noticed that Frodo had fallen asleep. Aragorn, looking near fatherly, carried the Hobbit out of the boat. Branwen could not deny her wandering thoughts that went to the baby girl with greenish-grey eyes she had nursed in Galadriel's Mirror.

Branwen volunteered for first watch and continued on her meditation, dwelling on the Wyld and on the Shards, as the others slept. It was as they slept that she sensed a presence at the very edge of her perception. She opened her eyes and Saw a finger of darkness from the Ring extending outward and, in her Sight, she only just saw the twisted lifeforce of Gollum hiding in the shadows of roots a good distance away.

Branwen frowned and suddenly he ducked away out of her line of sight. Was Gollum aware that she could spot him? She would speak with Aragorn tomorrow. This small creature was becoming a nuisance.

҉

The Third Age – February 16th, 3019

Frodo was still asleep when Branwen woke up the next morning. Gimli was getting a small fire started as she blinked away the sleep from her eyes. She made quick work of stowing her bedroll and blanket. Aragorn was smoking his pipe near the boats, apparently lost in thought.

As she approached him, he turned as she got closer and Aragorn smiled, "Good morning, Branwen."

Branwen felt a few butterflies in her stomach at the charming smile before swallowing them down. She was not some giggly teenager and she refused to feel like one. Nonetheless, she smiled in return, "Good morning. We had a visitor last night."

Aragorn scrunched his eyebrows in silent asking and Branwen continued, "Our friend from Moria has returned. He must have been waiting for us to leave Lothlórien."

Aragorn blinked for a moment before his eyebrows went up, "Persistent little thing, isn't he?"

Branwen asked, "Shall I put him out of his misery when the opportunity next presents itself? My arrow shan't miss and the Great River can have his body."

Aragorn shook his head slowly, "No. I think we may derive some use from him. Let us attempt to capture him when he next presents himself."

Branwen sighed, "The foul little thing is dangerous…and I believe he knows to avoid my Sight now. Last night, when I Saw him, he near immediately ducked away. He's far too cunning to let run wild."

Aragorn nodded, "I agree. Which is why we shall capture him."

She massaged the bridge of her nose, "Very well. However, if I catch him making an attempt on Frodo again, I will put an arrow through the little bastard's throat."

Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement as Frodo sat up in his bedroll, looking rather groggy. Her pity and mercy were reserved for creatures that were deserving…and Gollum was nothing but a stain on the world that should have died centuries ago.

҉

Soon, they were back on their way down the Anduin in their Elven watercraft. Aragorn was content to allow them to drift with the current and the others appeared the same as well. It seemed none were looking forward to committing to one path over the other in the fork that laid before them except Boromir, bound and determined Westward to Minas Tirith, and Branwen, knowing that the Ring must go East.

Branwen was looking forward to separating Boromir from the Ring, as she could See how strongly the Ring called to him now. Should he make an attempt, Branwen would incapacitate him, if she could, or kill him, if she must, just as she would put down Gollum.

Thankfully, divvied up as they were in the boats, it was not as much of a concern and it allowed her time to continue meditating on the Shards. She simply could not understand what it was that she was doing wrong and it was frustrating beyond belief.

Two days passed under grey gloomy skies with dark trees on the riverbanks before, on their third day, they crossed into the Brown Lands on the Eastern side and the Field of Celebrant to the West. The Brown Lands were as desolate and…brown as she remembered them, if not more. Winter was simply not the best time to travel the Anduin, it appeared. The Field of Celebrant was also brown but, here and there, it did have some swathes of green grass. Their view West was obstructed a great deal by the large patches of reeds on the Western bank though. Branwen remembered passing through this part rather quickly last time with her wind oar powering her along.

The last two nights, Aragorn had attempted to catch Gollum as the little gremlin was taking pains to stay well away when Branwen was awake. As she suspected, he seemed to know that Branwen was acutely aware of him. She imagined that he must have seen that it was she that had shot at him with an arrow back in Lórien. In respect of Gandalf's wishes, Aragorn wished to capture him, but Branwen was becoming increasingly frustrated by the matter.

Frodo commented as the sun was beginning to set on their third day, "How wide, empty, and mournful all this country looks! I always imagined that as one journeyed South, it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind forever."

Aragorn chuckled, "But we have not journeyed far South yet. It is still winter and we are far from the Sea. Here, the world is cold until sudden spring and we may yet have snow again. Far away down in the Bay of Belfalas, to which Anduin runs, it is warm and merry…or would be if not for the Enemy.

But here, we are not more than one-hundred and eighty miles, I believe, South of the Southfarthing away in your Shire, hundreds of long miles over. You are looking now Southwest across the North plains of the Riddermark—Rohan, the land of the Horse-lords.

Before long, we shall come to the mouth of the Limlight that runs down from Fangorn to join the Great River. That is the North boundary of Rohan and, of old, all that lay between Limlight and the White Mountains belonged to Rohan.

It is a rich and pleasant land and its grass has no rival, but in these evil days, folk do not dwell by the River or ride often to its shores. Anduin is wide, yet Orcs can shoot their arrows far across the stream and, of late, it is said they have dared to cross the water and raid the herds and studs of Rohan."

Frodo seemed perplexed as Aragorn explained how they had not traveled very far at all but seemed to enjoy the knowledge that Aragorn so readily shared. Branwen smiled, "I believe I told you back in Rivendell, Mister Baggins, that the world is far larger than you might have thought it to be."

Frodo looked at her and nodded, "Yes, you did."

Branwen commented, "And so have you now an itch to travel and see the rest of the Middle Earth, once this business is all done with?"

Frodo seemed to grow dark in his thoughts, "If we live through it, I might…but I might as well return to the Shire and stay there in peace."

Branwen put a hand on his shoulder, "Do not despair, Mister Baggins. You must hold fast to hope, even only to make Life a bit easier. Enjoy today and plan for tomorrow, but do not give up. Even should tomorrow never come, Death is not something to fear."

Frodo looked at her curiously, "How can you claim such things about Death?"

Branwen paused for a moment, she saw Aragorn looking at her from the corner of her eye, before she responded, "Death and I have a history, you might say. I have been involved in conflict or war, in some way, shape, or form, since before I could even speak. I was orphaned just after my first birthday when my parents were murdered by a…warlord. I have…nearly died more times than I care to admit. And each time, as it came so close, there was serenity as the burdens of Life fell away. After over one-hundred and fifty years of strife, I can say this easily—Do not pity the Dead, Frodo, pity the Living, as the Dead have seen the end of war and suffering and it is the Living that must continue to shoulder those things."

Frodo seemed to fall into thought and there was nothing else said between them that day.

The following day, the Anduin began to spread out and become shallow along the banks to reveal rocky shoals and shores. Aragorn guided them through with gentle steering. Branwen did not remember this being a concern when she had traveled down the river, but the Anduin had also been much fuller in the summer from the swollen mountain streams, filled with snowmelt, rather than the much lower winter height.

Rolling hills like her native England began to rise up on either side of the river and Branwen noticed that the others appeared to become quite anxious away from the cover of trees alongside the riverbanks. A bitter wind was driving out of the East, off the wide plains with nothing to impede them from here to the Hills of Rhûn on the Western border of the Sea of Rhûn.

With the trees gone, it was much easier for Branwen to See Gollum. He was following them on the river, clinging to a log and paddling with hands and feet. She hoped the wretched creature would develop hypothermia and die already, but it seemed he was far too vigorous for that.

Hopefully, Aragorn would be able to catch him soon. As their fourth day came to an end, they made camp on a small island near the Western bank.

҉

The Third Age – February 20th, 3019 – Very Early Morning

Branwen was woken by the sound of a hiss and a splash as she sat up quickly in her bedroll. She saw Gollum's tendril from the Ring stretching away downriver and Frodo was standing with his short sword drawn. She doubted that Gollum could have set foot on the actual island, as her wards were at least strong enough to keep out the little malevolent troll, but what was Frodo doing up?

Aragorn came to as well and jumped up to his feet quickly. He whispered to Frodo, "What is it? I felt something in my sleep. Why have you drawn our sword?"

Frodo answered, "Gollum…or at least, I believe so."

Branwen stood up to join them as Aragorn said, "Ah! So you did notice our little footpad then. Branwen had thought you did. He has padded after us all through Moria and right down to Nimrodel. Since we took to boats, he has been lying on a log and paddling with hands and feet. I have tried to catch him one or twice at night, but he is slier than a fox and as slippery as a fish. I hoped the river-voyage would beat him, but he is too clever a waterman."

Branwen frowned, "I wish you would just let me dispose of the imp. He's not worth the trouble and I had him dead to rights in Moria and in Lórien. If not for Orcs and Gandalf's wishes, I would have already slain him…"

Frodo asked, "You've known this entire time?"

Branwen nodded, "He began following us shortly after entering Moria. Either he has exceptional luck or the Ring drew him. In any case, I could have taken his head back in Moria, but I stayed my sword as I worried of his corpse attracting attention, though it proved pointless in the end, and because Gandalf asked me to exercise mercy.

In our first night in Lórien in the treetops, he had attempted to climb the tree you were in and get to you. If not for the Orc horde passing through, I would have put an arrow through his eye, but I only scared him off that night."

Frodo gasped, "I saw him that night! I had wondered who had shot the arrow at him, but I was simply glad to see him gone."

Branwen sighed, "Yes, however, I regret of not disposing him earlier. I had opportunities, but I had exercised mercy as Gandalf had wished. Now, he is aware that his stealth is not sufficient to avoid me finding him and so keeps a far distance while I am awake. You need not fear at night though, even when I am asleep. Though my magic is much weaker, I still place barriers to keep out malice and he is a malevolent creature, but he does not possess the strength to come through."

Frodo nodded with some relief before he said, "Gandalf told me a long while ago to show pity to Gollum as Bilbo had… I would respect his wishes and not kill Gollum."

Branwen frowned and shook her head, "Well, as I said, Gollum is keeping his distance from me when I am awake, so the opportunity will likely not present itself to me unless I take pains to do so. If you and Aragorn are so concerned and empathetic, very well! Let it be on your heads then! But I will not hesitate to gut the creature if I catch him making another attempt to get his hands on you. Make no mistake, Frodo, he means to kill you and steal back the Ring."

Frodo did not speak but was resolute. Aragorn then said, "In any case, we shall have to try going faster on the river tomorrow so that we might leave him behind. Both of you lie down and I will keep watch for what is left of the night. With luck, I might yet lay my hands on the wretch and we might make him useful. But, if not, we shall have to try and lose him. As Branwen said, he is very dangerous. Quite apart from murder by night on his own account, he may put any enemy that is about on our track."

Branwen snorted as she returned to her bedroll, "And that is why I should just dispose of him, once and for all. He can make himself useful feeding the fish."

҉

When Branwen woke the next morning, Aragorn reported no further concerns with Gollum. He informed the rest of the Company of their little stalker to mixed reactions. She did not bother to attempt and advocate for Gollum's easement from the mortal plane. Frodo and Aragorn were still adamant in respecting Gandalf's wishes and, though she was tempted, it would be tasteless to point out that Gandalf was dead and they needed to do what was best for the present.

With Gollum's pursuit now common knowledge, Aragorn had them begin to paddle to pick up speed. Gollum had proceeded them the night before, heading downriver, but, at some point, they did pass Gollum, though she did not See him. The tendril between him and the Ring became perilously thin, but the Ring refused to let go, even when she attempted to try and break it with a quick banishment.

As she had feared, her power over the Ring was negligible without her staff and it seemed to draw strength from Gollum as well. The Ring seemed to be trying its damnedest to remove itself from their Quest in its destruction.

Aragorn also began having them traveling by night instead of by day. They would shelter and hide as best they could with the desolate land around them. Three days passed and on their seventh day from Lórien, they entered the moors. Branwen recognized where she had ended her voyage decades prior. They were now entering an area that she had not traveled before.

There were a number of birds among the rocky hills, cliffs, and pillars with circling flocks overhead. Branwen began to wonder if there was concern of them being spied on again. She really did mean to capture a bird one day and sit down with it until she could make sense of its chattering and her words made sense to it.

A very large bird was spotted that day as twilight neared and Legolas reported it was an eagle on the hunt, but very far from the mountains. In response, Aragorn did not allow them to start out again until the stars were bright overhead. He confessed concerns to her and Frodo that he worried Gollum may have stirred up mischief against them. Of the creature, Branwen Saw neither hide nor hair and his link to the Ring was as thin as a thread, but it remained.

҉

The Third Age – February 23th, 3019

It was the eighth night, the Eastern wind had finally died and it was quiet and cloudless, when Aragorn said, "Come! We will venture one more journey by night. We are come to the reaches of the River that I do not now well, for I have never journeyed by water in these parts before, not between here and the rapids of Sarn Gebir. But, if I am right in my reckoning, those are still many miles ahead. Still, there are dangerous places even before we come there—rocks and stony islands in the stream. We must keep sharp watch and not try to paddle swiftly."

Later in the night, Branwen was keeping watch from the prow, her Sight allowing her to see exceptionally well in the darkness. Squinting, she realized that there were rapids were not far ahead. She turned to Aragorn and said, "We have to stop for the night. We've come upon the rapids already, not even a quarter-mile ahead."

Aragorn looked surprised, "I am out of my reckoning. I did not know that we had come so far. Anduin flows faster than I thought if Sarn Gebir is close at hand already."

He looked back and called, "We're coming upon the rapids! Move to the Western shore."

There were some affirmative calls back in the darkness. Branwen saw a protruding bit of land that did not appear completely natural and reported, "There appears to be an old landing just ahead. There!"

Aragorn brought them there and they were soon joined by the others. As they gathered, Aragorn said, "It is lucky that Branwen was at the prow as we nearly came upon the rapids in the darkness. We have traveled a good deal father than I had surmised. While the boats of the Elves would not sink, maybe, that says nothing of us coming through Sarn Gebir alive, as none have ever done so yet.

No road was made by the Men of Gondor in this region, for even in the great days, their realm did not reach up Anduin beyond the Emyn Muil, but there is a portage-way somewhere here on the Western shore, if I can find it in the daylight. It cannot yet have perished, for light boats used to journey out of Wilderland down to Osgiliath, and still did so until a few years ago, before the Orcs of Mordor began to multiply.

I believe we may be in luck, as this appears like it may have been the Northern landing for that portage way."

Boromir commented, "I do not see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the River any further. If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats and strike Westward and Southward, until we come to the Entwash and cross into my land."

Aragorn was quick to reply, "We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith, but that is not yet agreed upon. And such a course may be more perilous than it sounds. The vale of Entwash is flat and fenny and fog is a deadly peril there for those on foot and laden. I would not abandon our boats until we must. The River is at least a path that cannot be missed."

Suddenly, Branwen felt a great darkness and she ordered, "Be quiet!"

She turned with her Sight and looked Eastward. A Shadow had laid itself across the Eastern bank and, at a distance, there were Orcs prowling downriver from them along its edge. Branwen then saw a twisted thing flying up from the South and, from it, poured the Shadow. With a start, she realized she recognized this Shadow as the Shadow of the Nine. One of the Nine was riding whatever that thing was and they were flying fast.

Branwen dropped her bag as she grabbed her bow and an arrow out of their sleeve. She had to drive it off or drop the creature before the Shadow of the Nine spread across the Anduin and the Ring was able to alert the wraith. The powerful Wyld of the Anduin did not seem to care for the Shadow attempting to slighter across it as the River wore away at the creeping edges easily, but that would mean nothing if the wraith crossed to this side.

She nocked the arrow and pulled back as far as she could on her Galadhrim bow. The others saw where she was aiming and Legolas quickly pulled out his own bow. The sky seemed to darken as the presence of the fell creature and wraith grew closer and the Shadow on the Eastern shore grew thicker. Branwen commanded her arrow, "Fly true and strike powerfully!"

Branwen released her arrow and it shot forward like lightning, curving in its flight to correct her aim, and Legolas' arrow was released only an instant after her own.

The creature attempted to avoid but then there was a shrill vile cry and it seemed to dive out of the sky and there was silence again. The darkness infecting the sky appeared to clear away and she Saw the Shadow seemed to grow weaker.

Gimli said, "Praised be the bows of Galadhrim and the hands and eyes of Branwen and Legolas! That was a might—…"

Branwen ordered as she held up her hand, "Shush!"

Gimli looked surprised, but Branwen only dropped her hands when she Saw the Orcs downriver suddenly moved away from the riverbank and off in the direction of the downed creature. Finally, she dropped her hand and said, "My apologies, Gimli. There were Orcs on the Eastern shore and I had not wanted to be pelted with arrows. They seemed to have moved away towards whatever fell beast was flying towards us."

Gimli replied with understanding, "Ah! No offense taken, my lady! I am only gladdened that the shadow, whatever it was, came no nearer. I liked it not at all. Too much it reminded me of the Shadow of Moria—the Shadow of the Balrog."

Frodo whispered, "It was not a Balrog. It was something colder. I think it was…"

Branwen looked at the Hobbit. As she Saw at the Ring's influence in him and the faint and translucent pale light that had affected since his cursing at the hands of the Witch-King, she considered he might be able to sense the Nazgûl.

Boromir asked Frodo, seeming oddly eager, "What do you think?"

Frodo answered, "I think…No, I will not say."

The others appeared to look at Frodo with concern before Branwen chided him, "Not saying does not change the truth of it, Mister Baggins. I know not what fell beast it was riding on, but it appears that the Nine have returned. From the fiend, one of the Nine was spreading their Shadow. The Shadow of the Nine now rests thinly upon the Eastern bank."

The others blanched and Legolas said, "That is ill news."

Branwen shrugged, "We knew that they would return eventually and, whether it is the Shadow of the Nine or Shadow of Mordor, ultimately, we would have to walk into Shadow once more."

Boromir declared, "So the Enemy holds the Eastern bank… I say that we must come away from the River then! Even if we pass the Gates of Argonath and come unmolested to the Tindrock, what will we do then? Leap down the Falls and land in the marshes?"

Aragorn answered him with strong conviction, "No! We will stay with the River. It is swift and will take us faster from here than if we attempt to walk through the fens of the Entwash vale. We must still decide our course and Branwen speaks the truth—we would have to walk into Shadow eventually.

Once we have reached the Tindrock, we will bear our boats by the ancient way to the foot of Rauros and there take to the water again. Do you not know, Boromir, or do you choose to forget the North Stair and the high seat upon Amon Hen, that were made in the days of the great kings? I, at least, have a mind to stand in that high place again before I decide my future course. There, maybe, we shall see some sign that will guide us. This is not the first time that the Nine have appeared to obstruct our path and we cannot abandon our route so readily or we shall never see the Ring destroyed."

Branwen nodded, "Aragorn is right. We are Nine Walkers now to counter Nine Riders. Shall we fall in the face of a singular wraith?"

Boromir looked at Frodo, as if to try and find some weakness in Frodo's resolve, but the Hobbit stood by Aragorn's side. Boromir sighed, "It is not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends in need and you will need my strength, if ever you are to reach the Tindrock. To the tall isle I will go, but no further. There I shall turn to my home, alone if my help had not earned the reward of companionship."

And Branwen looked forward to Boromir being parted from the Company of the Ring, even if she had to accompany Boromir at Aragorn's side, she was ready to see the Ring away from the Hearts of Men.

Aragorn then commanded, "For now, let us be on our guard with servants of the Enemy so close by. I would not wager against Orcs crossing the river. Tonight, we shall all be sleepless! The darkness hides us now, but what the day will show, who can tell? Have your weapons in hand."

As the Company complied, Branwen decided it was time to carve and enchant the boats for lightness, even if it was only a small bit. If they were to carry them along whatever portage-way that Aragorn could find and then down the Falls of Rauros, they would need to have them as light as possible.

Aragorn came to stand nearby her as she carved into the interior of the boats. He did not ask what she was doing, but she imagined he could guess glancing over her shoulder as she carved with her hunting knife. The rest soon came to join them and Gimli was a good deal more curious and asked, "What is it that you are scratching at, my lady?"

Branwen answered, without looking up from her work, "Boat bear the burden of my shoulders and feet. In Sindarin though, not Westron. As boats are made to ease the burdens of travel, I can enchant them to be lighter as they can 'carry' their own weight. Not as much as I fear I could with my staff, but it should help us as we have to lug them tomorrow."

Legolas laughed, "That is marvelous, my lady! These craft are already so light, I dare to wonder if we might bear these crafts individually!"

Branwen shrugged, "We shall see."

There was silence for a while before Sam, staring at the moon with some confusion, commented to Frodo, "It's very strange. The moon's the same in the Shire and in Wilderland, or it ought to be. But either it's out of its running or I'm all wrong in my reckoning. You'll remember, Mister Frodo, the moon was waning as we lay on the platform up in that treetop—a week from the full moon, I reckon.

And we'd been a week on the way last night, when up pops a new moon as thin as a nail paring, as if we had never stayed for any time in the Elvish country. I can remember three nights there for certain, and I seem to remember several more, but I would take my oath it was never a whole month. Anyone would think that time did not count in there!"

Branwen would have laughed if she were not concentrating on her work. It appeared the Light of Galadriel had befuddled Sam more than she had thought.

Frodo responded, "And perhaps that was the way of it. In that land, maybe, we were in a time that has elsewhere long gone by. It was not, I think, until the Silverlode bore us back to Anduin that we returned to the time that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea. And I don't remember any moon, either new or old, in Caras Galadhon—only stars by night and sun by day."

Branwen meant to disillusion them but Legolas spoke instead, "No, time does not ever tarry, but change and growth is not in all things and places alike. For the Elves, the world moves, and it moves both very swift and very slow. Swift, because Elves themselves change little, and all else fleets by—it is a grief to us. Slow, because they need not count the running years, not for themselves. The passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in the long, long stream. Yet, beneath the Sun, all things must wear to an end at last."

It seemed that even Legolas was unaware of the Light of Galadriel that had so enraptured them all. Frodo nodded though, as if it explained everything, and then she paused in surprise as he surmised more than she had thought he would…or could. The hobbit said, "But the wearing is slow in Lórien. The power of the Lady is on it. Rich are the hours, though short they seen, in Caras Galadhon, where Galadriel wields the Elven-ring."

Aragorn spoke sharply, "That should not have been said outside of Lórien, not even to any of us. Speak no more of it! But so it is, Sam—in that land, you lost your count. There time flowed swiftly by us, as for the Elves. The old moon passed and a new moon waxed and waned in the world outside, while we tarried there. And last night, a new moon came again. Winter is nearly gone. Time flows on to a spring of little hope."

Branwen chuckled, "Leave the doom and sorrow to myself, Estel! There is hope, even if it is thin. Though we miss Gandalf, he is not the end-all be-all. For those of you who have lost count, it is now past midnight and February the twenty-fourth."

The Hobbits looked stunned, even though Aragorn had confirmed a month had passed. She continued, "We were indeed in Lórien just shy of a month. Our last morning in Lórien had been a month to the day that Gandalf had fallen, February the fifteenth. As for the loss of time in Lórien, you're all somewhat correct, in a sense, but not quite. Of you all, Frodo was the closest."

They looked at her curiously, even as Branwen continued carving, and said, "Much like powerful evil creatures like the Balrog and the Nine can cast a Shadow on the Unseen, Galadriel has cast a Light over Lothlórien, using the Mallorn trees to hold the magic. I will not speculate or confirm the source of her great power, for it is immense and more powerful than even what I had seen of Gandalf, Lord Elrond, or Glorfindel, but her magic has done as Frodo said—it slows the aging of the land there.

The Light of Galadriel, to me, it felt as if each second were held for as long as it could and, in exchange, the days passed quickly. I have the ability to shield myself from this magic, as I do the Shadows I can See as well. You…well, all of you were acting a bit daft under its influence, but the Light of Galadriel eased more than just the wounds of your body, but the hurts of your hearts as well. Tell me, though it only feels like a short while for you all, does the passing of Gandalf seem not so hurtful anymore?"

They all seemed to look at each other for a moment before Frodo answered, "While I still miss him terribly…I do not feel so grieved as I should."

Branwen nodded, "Yes, and there you have it."

Boromir frowned darkly, "And you simply allowed such witchcraft to be worked on us?"

Branwen chuckled, "You'll find that I could not hope to stand against my grandmother…nor do I wish to. There was reason to Celeborn's and Galadriel's choices, though I may not have been able to see it. When they felt it was time, they ushered us along, and that was that. Besides, I was using that time to begin mending my magic. I have made a little headway on it, so I consider it time well spent between my practice and the mending of your bodies and hearts."

Boromir did not seem happy but Aragorn said, "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would not hold us needlessly. And as I told you in Lothlórien, Boromir, there is no evil in Lady Galadriel or the land of Lórien! In any case, let us remain quiet for the rest of the night to avoid any attention being drawn upon us."

Branwen felt that was fine for her and refocused on her project. She turned to the first boat and incanted, "Boat bear the burden of my shoulders and feet," as she began to weave the magic into the wood. She felt a bit of happiness as, made from Mallorn wood, the magic flowed easily into the boats and she imagined that the enchantment would be a good deal more effective than she first ventured to think.

A mist then began to rise from the River.

҉

The Third Age – February 24th, 3019

As the hidden sunrise began to lighten the thick white haze around them, Sam declared, "I can't abide fog, but this seems to be a lucky one. Now perhaps we can get away without Orcs or anything else seeing us."

Aragorn nodded, "Perhaps. Now, with it lighter, I wish to journey up and see if this is the North landing for the portage-way past Sarn Gebir and to see if the path is still whole and safe. I think that myself and Legolas shall go and make haste to confirm the path or find it if this is not it."

Boromir, still advocating for them to depart the River, said, "Seldom in my life has any boat come out of the North and Orcs and all else now prowl the Eastern shore. If you go forward, peril will grow with every mile, even if you confirm this path."

Aragorn answered with some weariness, obviously tired of this constant back and forth, "Peril lies ahead on every Southward road. Wait for us one day. If we do not return in that time, you will know that evil has indeed befallen us. Then you must take a new leader and follow them as best as you can."

Branwen stood, "If that is the case, then I shall go with you as well."

Aragorn frowned as the others looked at her with curiosity. Aragorn said, "Branwen, you are needed here."

Branwen replied, even as she slung on her enchanted pack, "I am needed where the Chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor goes. You will not dissuade me. I will come along regardless of what you say."

Aragorn stepped closed and said, "Branwen, be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. You know that my promises bind me to you. If you are going off with fear of your death, I must accompany you. Legolas can come or stay, but I will go where you go."

Aragorn massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment and then said, "Legolas, if it is fine, I would ask you to stay after all."

Legolas seemed amused and nodded, "It is no concern. I shall remain and protect our Ring-bearer."

Aragorn sighed and then announced, "Branwen and I shall go then. As I said, give us one day."

Branwen stepped up next to Aragorn and they turned and began to walk up from the landing. She looked back and saw Frodo was watching them go with uncertainty. Branwen had no doubts that they would be back soon.

There did look to be a path up from the landing, though it appeared nature was beginning to reclaim it, and they began to follow it as the boats and Company disappeared into the mist. Branwen was able to See through the mist and followed the shape of the land with the Wyld as they followed the path as it turned South.

It was about a three-quarters of a mile down the path that they found the head of the rapids. Aragorn nodded, "I think this is the portage-way then. A bit overgrown but serviceable. Let us continue onward and see if we can find the South landing."

As they continued at a slow pace, due to the thick fog, Aragorn said, "I would have preferred you remained with the Company to keep Frodo and the Ring safe."

Branwen responded, "I have sworn no oaths for the Ring, but I have sworn an oath and promises to Gilraen. Had you said, 'We will be back shortly,' I would have had no cause to come along. But as you said, 'If we are not back in a day, you will know evil has befallen us. Pick a new leader and go on.' That left me little choice."

Aragorn sighed, "…I feel that whenever I attempt to contend with you, I am left unable to respond. It is as if all my reasons fall in the face of what you say."

Branwen laughed, feeling that fluttering that was becoming so common on her stomach. Guilt quickly followed before she responded, reminding herself of what she already knew as Branwen spoke of the source of her guilt, "My sister has the same affect on me. I believe it is simply age and wisdom."

Aragorn let out a bark of amusement, "I have all but given up attempting to match wits with Arwen! I fear even Lord Elrond bows to her whims and charms! What hope do I have? At times, she states the most confounding of things and, by the end, I am somehow the one that is silly for doubting her word."

Branwen glanced, "Like what?"

Aragorn stopped short and his cheeks suddenly became red, "…Nothing to worry about. She has odd notions at times… Oh, it appears the path is turning back to the River! Maybe this is the Southern landing."

The topic closure was not subtle, but Branwen felt it was likely unimportant and simply embarrassing for him.

҉

Aragorn breathed a small sigh of relief when Branwen did not push him to answer. He was in disbelief with himself that he would even come close to sharing what Arwen had told him back in December in regards to Branwen.

Being with Branwen, spending time together in Lórien, and walking next to her, it was just so…easy. It felt like he had known her for years. He had, technically, but as in spent time with her and what not. In truth, though he did not like to admit it, it was nearly as easy to spend time with her as it was Arwen.

Thankfully, he was able to put those thoughts to the side, if only for the moment, as they walked out into the Southern landing—a stone pier just beneath the rapids that the current swirled around with a calmer pool next to it, opposite of the rapids. The river proceeded on smooth but very quickly past the cascades. Branwen remarked, "I see no sign of Orcs along the Eastern bank and the Shadow appears also quite diminished. Hopefully, being shot out of the sky might have incapacitated that wraith for a while."

Aragorn looked to Branwen. Her delicate mithril circlet with the small emerald, dimly shining like its own little star, among her thick raven curls made her seem so stately even in an amorphous cloak and thick mist. He agreed with her, "I hope so. Let us get back to the others then with our good news."

As they walked back at a quicker pace, he could not help but want to poke at her again as he said, "You see now? There was no reason for you to fret."

Branwen snorted, "With that logic, then there was little reason for us to check the path first and we all should have come along and not wasted two hours scouting out the trail."

Aragorn could not help but laugh. As always, she had an answer for everything.

҉

Frodo turned when he heard footsteps from the fog and felt his heart grow easy when Aragorn and Branwen came into view. It was not even midday and already they returned, Aragorn looking quite pleased and even Branwen seemed a bit lighter.

Aragorn reported, as the Company gathered, "All is well. This is the Northern landing and the path up turns South and tracks to a good landing. Both the path and the land are still serviceable. The distance is not great—the head of the rapids is about three-quarters of a mile from here and the rapids themselves are little more than a mile long. Not far beyond them, the stream becomes clear and smooth again, though it runs swiftly. Our hardest task will be to carry our boats and baggage down the portage-way."

Branwen then spoke, "Also, I could See no Orcs along the Eastern bank and the Shadow of the Nine has diminished greatly as well on the far side. Hopefully, this means being dropped out of the sky has weakened the wraith, if only for a time."

Frodo felt a strong sense of relief. It was then time to haul the boats out of the water. Legolas had said they were very light boats, but Branwen's enchantment had done even more so. Aragorn was able to lift an empty one by himself while Merry and Pippin found it very easy with just themselves, to the point that Pippin very nearly could replicate Aragorn's feat. Putting the luggage in the lightened vessels, they began trekking down the portage-way.

There were crumbling rock walls that ran alongside the portage-way and the track itself had thin grass growing over it, much like the Greenway near Bree, but it was infinitely better than the weed-infested fenny countryside around them strewn with boulders.

Reaching the landing, it was just a few hours passed midday, but the fog was still quite thick. Aragorn peered into a bit unsure it seemed and Boromir asked, "Shall we go out onto the river in this?"

Aragorn sighed, "I fear this is a thicker than I am comfortable with. I am not so familiar with this stretch of the Anduin and, from little I can see, it does appear smoother, but I do wonder about any hidden rocks that may be unseen in the current, especially as it has grown very strong now…"

Branwen said, "I can See nothing on the Eastern side. If we are uncomfortable navigating the mist, then let us rest. Give it another few hours and, if it thins, we can depart then."

Aragorn hummed, "Let us see how it goes. We will not be able to travel by night for the same reason as we cannot boat through this fog. If the worst comes to pass, we shall simply depart in the morning. With luck, the fog will thin but not break and we might still slip away unseen by the Orcs. For tonight though, especially as I worry of mischief from Gollum in this fog, two must watch together in turns; six hours off and two on guard."

҉

The Third Age – February 25th, 3019

Branwen watched the drizzle come in the predawn light. The fog had not let up at all yesterday before night had descended. There had been no concerns that night and she had not Seen Orcs, Wraiths, or Gollum; though the Ring's wandering and hair-thin strand of influence remained reaching out North of them upriver.

The fog had thinned enough that it would be much easier to navigate the fast-moving river now but still holding together to allow them cover from any distant eyes.

The others were roused shortly, followed by a quick meal of lembas, and they were off just after what Branwen thought dawn was. Aragorn steered the Company close to the Western bank, though Branwen still could See no presence of Orcs.

The river drew them among steeper and sheerer cliff faces that continued to grow in height. After a few hours on the river, the fog drew up off the river's surface, but it was now a low and dark cloud that began to pelt them with cold and fat rain drops in great sheets. It was clear they would need to draw their waxed leather-covers over their boats and let the current take them without paddling if they did not want the boats to be flooded.

Under the cover, Aragorn was so very tall that only Frodo could fit past his feet. With no choice, Branwen laid alongside Aragorn in the shall confines of the boat. The smell of pine, something pleasantly musky, and tobacco leaves filled her nose and she found her thoughts wandering back to the fantasies she had considered in on Cerin Amroth.

Branwen began to regret ever indulging in those. Though she had thought she had "let them go" there on the hill, they seemed to have come back with a vengeance. Had she simply been fooling herself into believing that she could open that door and then close it again?

Thankfully, before the proximity allowed her ever-wilder thoughts to encourage her to act on them, the rain let up and they were able to roll the rain cover up and resume their seating arrangement. The fog had gone away completely, and the clouds were departing Northward.

Before them was a gorge, which the Anduin cut through the hills of Emyn Muil. It was made up of dark grey stone and the River was forced through it, narrower and narrower, so it soon was quite fast. Aragorn was more concerned about keeping away from the canyon walls, though the river itself was smooth and there seemed little worry about suddenly being thrown against the cliffs.

The boats then swept out into a section of river that was just a bit wider and before them, guarding the continuing river ravine, were two colossal statues in grey stone. Branwen saw they appeared both noble and intimidating as they faced North. Each wore a crowned helm, bore an axe in their right hands, and their left palms were outstretched as if to warn away evil and darkness. Branwen could See that these statues were spellcrafted, much like the City Walls of Minas Tirith. They would last many centuries more, even a few more millennia, before they would begin to wear away as the magics of the Dúnedain held strong.

Aragorn raised his voice, echoing powerfully against the canyon walls, "Behold the Gates of Argonath—the Pillars of the Kings! We shall pass them soon. Keep the boats in line and as far apart as you can! Hold the middle of the stream!"

Branwen felt that this was a place of trial, of testing, and to see who was worthy. As they approached the Gates, she noticed that Frodo and the other Hobbits seemed to cower. Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas bowed their heads before the Great Kings, as if acknowledging defeat. As they passed into the abyss beyond the Gates, only Aragorn and herself kept their heads up as the dark waters beneath them howled with their speed and the funneled wind shrieked like banshees.

As Frodo cowered, Branwen heard Aragorn declare, his voice carrying to the other boats behind them, "Do not be afraid!"

Branwen looked back at Aragorn and saw that Strider, the Ranger of the North, had fallen away and now he appeared as he should—Aragorn Elessar son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur and Elendil, and Future King of the Kingdoms of the Dúnedain.

She felt her heart swell a bit as she looked at him before she glanced at Frodo.

҉

Frodo stared at Aragorn with awe. He had known that Aragorn was more than just Strider, as he had called himself in Bree when they first met, but he appeared so wholly different to Frodo's eyes now. He sat noble and proud, the wind ruffling his dark hair that Frodo felt was missing its crown, and his grey eyes were bright. He appeared as a king returning triumphantly to his lands from exile. All other appears as cowed as Frodo felt himself.

Frodo then glanced to the prow, to see if even Branwen quailed under the powerful feeling of Argonath. He did not see fear and, instead, saw an equal to the king Aragorn had become. She had always appeared regal, but, in contrast to Aragorn's sudden lordliness, it was even more apparent. Though she wore a man's clothing and a cloak like theirs, her mithril crown seemed to be the only regalia she required to still be the image of loveliness itself.

In her eyes though, he saw something he had never seen on Branwen's face before, not like this. It was…tenderness.

It was affection, plain and true, and even…desire, maybe. The Hobbit realized her eyes were set upon Aragorn as she looked like a queen awaiting the return of her king…and Aragorn was now come back to her.

Frodo almost felt his cheeks flush, feeling all at once that he should not be in this boat. It somehow felt too intimate. Branwen's emerald eyes then went to Frodo and he turned away, trying to control the blood in his face, as he listened to Aragorn calling out, his voice still powerful and ringing, "Fear not! Long have I desired to look upon the likenesses of Isildur and Anárion, my sires of old. Under their shadow, Elessar, the Elfstone son of Arathorn of the House of Valandil—Isildur's son, heir of Elendil, has naught to dread!"

In a moment, the image of King Elessar began to fade in Frodo's eyes and Aragorn returned to himself as he spoke with some sadness, "Would that Gandalf was here! How my heart yearns for Minas Anor and the walls of my own city! But where now shall I go?"

There was no answer to be had from the Chasm of Argonath. Frodo turned back to glance at Branwen and saw that, unlike Aragorn, she had not faded. And now, though it was hidden again, he was acutely aware of what he had seen and it was still evident to Frodo in her eyes as she looked at Aragorn—Branwen Anaróriel held a yearning and gentle care for the Ranger that was more than that of just a fellow Companion and friend.

Frodo looked past her into the ravine and saw there a pillar of light at the end to match the patch of sky above.

҉

Branwen turned on the prow and looked outward as they rushed out of the Chasm of Argonath and out into the waters of the lake, Nen Hithoel. The lake was shaped as a long oval and surrounded by hills in the depths of a dry winter—grey and brown with bare trees upon them except the very tops. Opposite of them on the South of the lake were three tall peaks.

The middle was the most jagged and rose sharply from the water itself. Cloud and mist frothed from beside it and Branwen knew that that the Falls of Rauros were split there. The two peaks connected to land seemed…powerful. The Wyld hung over them heavily.

Aragorn gestured to the three peaks, first to the center one rising from the water, "Behold Tol Brandir! Upon the left, stands Amon Lhaw and upon the right is Amon Hen—the Hills of Hearing and of Sight. In the days of the great kings, there were high seats upon them and a watch was kept there. But it is said that no foot of man or beast has ever been set upon Tol Brandir. Before the shade of night falls, we shall come to them. I hear the endless voice of Rauros calling."

They ate as they drifted with the current for a bit into the lake itself. Branwen thought back on Aragorn's words. The Hills of Hearing and of Sight? She wondered what she might See from Amon Hen and thought back to what Aragorn had told Boromir the night that the Rider had been shot down. Aragorn meant to possibly go up to Amon Hen and See…and she would like to go with him. She could only imagine what the powerful magic of that place might do in conjunction with her own Sight.

Soon, Aragorn bid them to take up their oars again and they paddled towards the Western side and Amon Hen. The lake was quite long though and, even with the current behind them, it took them the rest of the day to make it to the shoreline where Aragorn guided them. The sun was set and night upon them when they finally came to the Southern end of the lake and the Falls of Rauros roaring nearby.

They came to a grassy lawn at the foot of Amon Hen before they disembarked for the evening. Aragorn said, "Here we will rest tonight. This is the lawn of Parth Galen—a fair place in the summer days of old. Let us hope that no evil had yet come here."

Branwen looked about with her Sight and Saw no evil or concerns…in fact, she could not See much of anything. The Wyld here upon Amon Hen was thick and heavy. She frowned with a bit of concern. She did not think it would matter terribly for one night, as they had left those Orcs miles behind them and she thought she would still be able to sense and See if a Shadow fell upon them if one of the Nine flew this way.

The only real concern she had was that that Gollum's strand from the Ring had somehow grown stronger. Had he somehow followed them through the Gates of Argonath…? She supposed he might not have had a choice, swept in by the river as he would have been, though she liked to think he might have shat himself under the gazes of the Great Kings

Nonetheless, a watch was set for that night. She volunteered for first hour of watch as all the others were quite exhausted from the sleepless night before. Branwen would like the uninterrupted sleep after.

҉

The Third Age – February 26th, 3019

Branwen woke with the sun, feeling much more rested. There were dark clouds on the Eastern horizon, but the sun rose above them soon enough and the sky was clear above those few scraps. As she walked to the lake and washed her face in the water to wake up, she heard someone come up behind her. Branwen recognized Aragorn steps so did not turn to look immediately.

After she felt refreshed, she turned and found him looking a bit grave. Branwen asked, "What is the matter, Estel?"

He sighed and said, "Can you See anything about us? Last night, Frodo's Elf-blade was dimly lit to show that there were Orcs in some distant proximity to us."

Branwen frowned and used her Sight but could only See the Wyld of Amon Hen about them. It was simply too heavy with power and wisdom to See through at any distance and she was better of using her mundane eyes. She shook her head, "The magic of Amon Hen is too powerful for me to pierce with my Sight so easily. I don't see any Orcs or Shadow in the Unseen, but there is not much that I can See at all."

Aragorn hummed with some uncertainty, "I feel sure that they were on the Eastern side and likely on the slopes of Amon Lhaw, but I had hoped you might be able to make sure… I worry that they may have crossed sometime in the night though… It is time, I am afraid. And I fear I must lay the burden on Frodo to choose."

Branwen sighed, "You know what I feel and believe. The Ring should go East and avoid Minas Tirith. However, where you go, I will go."

Aragorn face seemed more youthful in the early morning sun as he smiled at her, "Thank you. Your support has meant a great deal to me over this journey thus far. I struggle to imagine my state of mind had you not been present."

Branwen felt her heart warm in response as she felt a desire to touch his cheek with her hand but resisted. Instead, she nodded her head, "Of course, Estel. Even if I were not bound by my promises, I would not abandon you to fate. You are my friend and I…care about you deeply."

She walked past him before she could take in his face in response to her words. Branwen felt she might have made a mistake as soon as those last words left her lips…but it was too late now.

҉

Aragorn watched as Branwen walked back to where the others were now rousing. He had felt his words catch in his throat as she had finished her statement. Was he reading too much into her words…?

…He felt he was. Branwen had always been guarded around others, except Arwen, that he had seen. Although…she seemed to relax greatly around him.

He shook his head. This was not the time to be concerned about such things. They had a choice between West and East and the decision had to be made today. There was no more time to delay.

Aragorn sat down to break bread with the rest of the Company as they ate lembas. The Elvish bread was already filling his stomach after just a few small bites.

After a short time, everyone seemed sated and so it was time. He stood, their eyes going to him, and Aragorn stated, "The day has come at last—the day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our Company that has travelled so far in fellowship? Shall we turn West with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor or turn East to the Fear and Shadow…or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot halt here. The enemy is on the Eastern shore, we know, but I fear that the Orcs may already be on this side of the water."

Silence fell over them and not even Branwen or Boromir spoke. Both had made their stances abundantly clear for all others. The Hobbits, Gimli, and Legolas looked at conflicted as Aragorn's own heart was—his duty to Gandalf or his duty to his people?

Finally, Aragorn spoke again and looked at Frodo, "Well, Frodo, I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter, I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely, it seems that if he were here now, the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate."

Frodo hunched over for a time, powerful thought on his face, before he replied slowly, "I know that haste is needed…yet, I cannot choose. The burden is heavy… Give me an hour longer and I will speak. Let me be alone!"

Aragorn felt his heart go out to Hobbit. It seemed cruel and unfair to place this on him, but there seemed little else that could be done. Aragorn said softly, "Very well, Frodo son of Drogo. You shall have an hour and you shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call."

Aragorn looked away from Frodo as the Hobbit stood to walk away and found Branwen's emerald gaze was glaring down into the dirt.

҉

Branwen sat nearest to the lake with her face turned South away from the others to stare at the mists of Rauros. After Frodo had stepped away, Gimli, Legolas, Merry, and Pippin began to speak amongst each other, not quite debating their path but questioning one another. Aragorn seemed content now to leave the decision to Frodo, Sam was would follow his master as Branwen would follow Aragorn, and Boromir had sat on the edge of the group closest to the slope. Like her, he had been silent. She felt he was tired of repeating himself just as she was.

Time passed as she looked out onto the water, gnawing on the issue before them in her mind. Eventually, the Hobbits, Gimli, and Legolas began questioning Aragorn regarding his knowledge of Gondor to the West and then the regions to the East. After a while, the questions turned back to Frodo and Branwen listened with one ear as she continued to look at the vapor rising from Rauros.

Aragorn said, in regard to Frodo, "He is debating which course is the most desperate, I think. It is now more hopeless than ever for the Company to go East, since we have been tracked by Gollum, and must fear that the secret of our journey is already betrayed… I worry that I may have been too kind in honoring Gandalf's wishes concerning the wretch…. In any case, Minas Tirith is no nearer to the Fire of Orodruin and the destruction of the Burden.

We may remain there for a while and make a brave stand, but the Lord Denethor and all his men cannot hope to do what even Elrond said was beyond his power—either to keep the Burden secret or to hold off the full might of the Enemy when he comes to take it. Which way would any of us choose in Frodo's place? I do not know. Now, indeed, we miss Gandalf the most."

Branwen felt that hindsight was indeed 20/20. She should have killed Gollum, Gandalf's wishes be damned. If there was anyone able to declare who should go to Death, it was her. As for what Gandalf would have chosen, she was near positive it would have been to go East.

…But she knew speaking to this group was pointless. Now, it was Frodo's choice. This was not her burden, this time, it was his. She was just along for the ride. Branwen felt she knew Frodo though and that he likely had a much better idea of what he was going to do than what he let on…the only thing holding him back was fear.

Legolas said to Aragorn, "Grievous is our loss of Gandalf. Yet, we must make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith."

Branwen frowned as she began to glare at the Falls before Gimli said, "And so should I. We, of course, were only sent to help the Bearer along the road, to go no further than we wished, and none of us is under any oath or command to seek Mount Doom. Hard was my parting of Lothlórien… Yet, I have come so far, and I say this—now we have reached the last choice, it is clear to me that I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith…but if he does not, then I will follow him."

Legolas followed, "And I too will go with him. It would be faithless now to say farewell."

Branwen felt some relief at their words. Once again, it seemed fear was the greatest deterrent, but their loyalty was good and strong to Frodo. She could trust them to see Frodo safely to and through Mordor, as she knew that it had been Aragorn's plan all along to part ways here and leave Frodo to Gandalf.

Aragorn said, "It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him. But, if he goes East, then all need not go with him, nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate—as much so for nine as for three or two, or even one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint four companions—Sam, who could not bear it otherwise, Gimli, myself, and Branwen, as she would refuse to let me alone into Mordor." He said that last bit with some amusement and Branwen wanted to snort as she looked at Tol Brandir. Of course, she would not let him alone, though it did surprise her to hear that he would go with Frodo, as his conviction to his people was very strong.

He continued, "Boromir will return to his own city, where his father and his people need him. With him, the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us."

Branwen could have set a clock to the outburst, as expected it was, as Merry shouted, "That won't do at all! We can't leave Frodo! Pippin and I always intended to go wherever he went and we still do! …But we did not realize what that would mean. It seemed so far away, in the Shire or in Rivendell. It would be mad and cruel to let Frodo go to Mordor. Why can't we stop him?"

Branwen wanted to sigh as she shook her head. She had known this would happen. It was as Gandalf had supposed at one point—this seemed like a grand old adventure to Merry and Pippin. Likely, they had not grasped the reality until Gandalf had fallen and, even then, momentum took them out of Lothlórien. They should not have come at all…or at least have stayed in Lórien.

Pippin declared, "We must stop him! And that is what he is worrying about, I am sure! He knows we shan't agree to his going East. And he doesn't like to ask anyone to go with him, poor old fellow. Imagine it—going off to Mordor alone! But the dear silly old Hobbit, he ought to know that he hasn't got to ask. He ought to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him!"

Sam's voice then cut in, "Begging your pardon, I don't think you understand my master at all! He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith anyway?"

Branwen felt a smile cross her lips. Indeed, Sam had a much better understanding of Frodo then any of them. If he declared that Frodo meant to go East, then Frodo meant to go East. Sam then seemed to realize he had inadvertently placed some disregard on Minas Tirith and said, "To him…I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir… Now where's he got to?"

Branwen turned quickly from her fixed gazed on the Falls and found Boromir was gone. They all looked back to where he had been sitting with confusion. It was clear that he had walked off with the others unaware that he had slipped away.

At once, Branwen jumped up as she yelled, "Where is Boromir!?"

Aragorn looked at her with a white face, "…You don't think…?"

She then doubled over with a gasp as it felt like a blast of frigid air had punched through her. Branwen looked up and Saw the magic of Amon Hen had been called upon and, on the hilltop, it appeared much like a lighthouse in the Unseen—a powerful shaft of Sight extending from and sweeping away North and slowly East.

Aragorn leapt to his feet when she had gasped so loudly. He asked, "Branwen! What is it!?"

Branwen straightened up and ordered, "Find Frodo!"

Whipping around, she took of at a sprint up the slope. Damn it all to hell! She should have been watching the weak-willed Man rather than staring off into space! She had presumed he would not dare to act in the light of day with all of them present, but he had slipped off! For all she knew, he had gutted Frodo and taken the Ring.

If it was Frodo atop the hill, she would stand to guard him. If it was Boromir, either she would find him innocent or guilty with the Ring in hand.

Branwen drew her sword, ready to face either possibility.

҉

Aragorn watched as Branwen ran off in the straightest path up the hillside, not bothering to curve to the stairs around. The Company seemed shocked into a stupor at the sudden turn. After Branwen had disappeared Gimli asked strongly, "And what is this about!? Why is Branwen so concerned of Boromir! Why must we find Frodo!?"

Aragorn opened his mouth to answer but then saw Boromir come out of the wood from the far side of the hill. He looked at the Man hard and the others turned to look at him. Boromir slowed a bit, his eyes crossing over them, as if counting. Aragorn called out, his voice cold, "Where have you been Boromir? Have you seen Frodo?"

Boromir looked hesitant and said, "Yes and no. Yes, I found him some way up the hill and I spoke to him. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith and not to go East. I grew angry and he left me. He vanished. I have never seen such a thing happen before, though I have heard of it in tales. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him again. I thought he would return to you… And where is Branwen?"

Aragorn felt his insides tighten up. It was as Branwen had feared. How foolish had they been to take their eyes away from Boromir. Aragorn ignored his question and asked, "Is that all that you have to say?"

Boromir looked shame-faced and answered, "Yes, I will say no more yet."

Sam jumped up and yelled, "This is bad! I don't know what this Man has been up to, but Lady Branwen was leery of him and he's been acting queer and such! Why would Mister Frodo put the thing on!? He shouldn't have, and if he has, goodness knows what may have happened!"

Merry said, "But he wouldn't keep it on! Not when he had escaped his unwelcome visitor, like Bilbo used to!"

Pippin leapt up as well, "But where did he go!? Where is he? He's been away ages now!"

Aragorn raised his voice, trying to gain control of the situation, "How long is it since you saw Frodo last, Boromir?"

Why had Branwen run straight up Amon Hen? If she had just stayed a few more moments, she could have questioned Boromir and known in just a short time what there was to know! Her Power over words would have allowed her to calm the Hobbits.

Boromir answered, "Half an hour, maybe… Or it might be an hour. I have wandered for some time since... I do not know!"

Boromir sat down, his head in his hands with shame as Sam cried, "An hour!? We must try and find him at once! Like Branwen! Come on!"

Aragorn commanded, "Wait a moment! We must divide up into pairs and arrange—hold on! Wait!"

Sam ran one way, Merry and Pippin another, and Legolas and Gimli in a third way, but all simply ran into the woods with no assigned direction. Even now, they were all shouting, their voices carrying—'Frodo! Where are you? Frodo!'

Aragorn curled his finger into his hair for just a breath before he said, "We shall all be scattered and lost! Boromir! I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, if indeed it is what Branwen had worried of, but help now! Go after those two young hobbits, and guard them at the least, even if you cannot find Frodo. Come back to this spot, if you find him, or any traces of him! I shall return soon!"

Aragorn did not bother to wait for an affirmation and ran after Sam's voice. Of them, Sam was the only one alone. His long legs carried him over the lawn and he caught the Hobbit just inside the tree line. Sam was panting as he tackled the slope and called, "Mister Frodo!"

Aragorn ordered, "Come with me, Sam! None of us should be alone. There is mischief about. I feel it. I am going to the top, to the Seat of Amon Hen, to See what may be Seen. That is the direction that Branwen ran."

Aragorn then looked down and saw soft Hobbit feet in the dirt and declared, "And look! It is as my heart guessed—Frodo went this way. Follow me and keep your eyes open!"

Aragorn knew there was no time to waste and only hoped Sam could keep up as he tracked the shallow Hobbit prints.

҉

Branwen gasped for breath as she crested the top of the hill. The magic of Amon Hen had quieted in the few minutes prior to her reaching the top. There was no one here any longer and she could see nothing standing out with her mundane eyes.

The only thing here was a broken and worn barricade surrounding a wide circle of cracked flagstone. In the center of the circle were four pillars that spiraled together to create one massively tall dais. On it, at the top of a reaching staircase, was a colossal stone chair carved so that the arms and back were level with one another. All the stone was smoothed by age, rain, and wind and it was silent with no creature to be found.

Branwen slipped past the battlement and yelled, "Frodo! Are you here!? Boromir! If you're here, show yourself, you weak-hearted bastard!"

There was no response and she swallowed a scream. Though she knew there would be no point, she opened her Sight. The Wyld her was so thick, she could hardly see the ground at her feet.

Then an idea came to her—this was the Hill of Sight. With its Sight and hers, she might be able to find Frodo. At the very least, maybe she could see through the Wyld that impeded her so terribly!

With that, she ran up the stairs to the throne. Sensing the magic, she knew she only had to sit. Taking a breath, she sat in the Northward facing chair. At once, Branwen understood this magic. It was incredibly powerful scrying magic of Sight…she feared too powerful for her to use as she desired. It cast her gaze hundreds of miles away in an instant.

In a glance, she Saw and Knew the North, her own Sight intermeshing into the magic of Amon Hen—she Saw the Wyld of the Misty Mountains and the crawling hordes of Orcs that even now spawned beneath it, most heavily they saturated Moria. The Spiders of Mirkwood had grown great in number and size and devoured all things that moved in the South of the forest and the Woodland Realm was under siege by them in the North. Dale and Erebor were helpless to stop the flow of Men from the East and Wolves and Wargs from the Northern Waste.

The Riddermark was awash with blood as the Rohirrim were under attack by Wolves from Isengard, especially bred by Saruman. She Saw the White Wizard standing atop Orthanc, that appeared so much like Fornbarad of the North but so much grander, and Saruman seemed to look down at an army of Orcs with glee and anticipation.

A look to the East and she Knew the Easterlings marshalled for war and prepared for spring to begin their march—entire armies coming together under the Shadow of Mordor.

Her eyes flickered to the South and Saw Minas Tirith was still tall and proud…but diminished from what she remembered it. Its spirit flagging from the little might they had regained before Sauron openly declared himself again.

Her Sight then went to Mordor and, with the power of Amon Hen, she pierced the Shadow that rained across the land like a storm of maggots and rotten flesh. She saw the fury of Orodruin, its power only just tamed by the power of the Ring. That same Ring had erected Barad-Dûr and, atop its spire, was a singular titanic lidless eye of flame—The Eye of Sauron.

He seemed to sense her gaze upon him as his own Sight, looking like a twisted reflection of Amon Hen's own power, began to move toward her.

Branwen tore her eyes away and attempted to reign in the power of Amon Hen—to allow her to simply See the hilltop around her. She had only been seated for a few seconds and yet her Sight had already Seen so much and she Knew so much.

With great effort, she tried to focus it…but her gaze slipped Westward to the Great Sea. Amon Hen had not been made to view itself. It was like attempting to use a telescope as a microscope.

Branwen attempted to bring her gaze around again…but she could not turn away. She began to panic. Something was drawing her and her Sight carried her far into the Great Sea, faster and faster. She tried to stand up, to blink, to close her Sight, to do anything, but she was held now by the Wyld of Amon Hen.

A shining bright landmass came into her vision, the Wyld of the place was perfect and, Lórien had only been the crudest of imitations to the splendor of this place. The land passed beneath her in an instant—too vibrant colors, perfect immortal lifeforces that could only be masses of Elves, and architecture that spoke of artists.

Her Sight was flying toward a small palace or incredibly large mansion that was built exceedingly high, so that some might call it a tower instead. A singular spire swirled upward into the sky and it was at the top of this needle into the atmosphere that she was being drawn.

Her gaze halted abruptly and she took in the…being before her. He was impossibly tall and wore robes the color of the sky that covered him. His face was the most beautiful she had ever seen in her life. The tint of his skin was like the gradient of twilight as he turned to look at her with eyes bearing no pupils or iris—only the pigment of the midday sky and blue seemed to mist away from his gaze. He had no hair, but a mane of visible and multicolored wind wrapped about his head and a crown with sweeping wings seemed to hold it away from his face.

He did not seem surprised to see her. Instead, he spoke, his voice echoing like thunder from the mountains that jarred her, "Ah… I have been expecting you… I see that the Winds have brought you to me."

Branwen did not know what to say and found she could not speak either. After all, this was only her Sight and, somehow, he could perceive her and made his voice heard despite however many thousands of miles between them.

He continued, "You would know me as Manwë or Súlimo—King of the Valar… You have traveled far, Heather Potter, through time and space…"

Branwen felt panic seize her. How did he know her? How was she communicating with a god of the all beings right now!? How did she get off this damn chair!?

Manwë's voice rang her thoughts like a bell and she felt helpless before him, "Your falling to Arda nearly disrupted the threads that Vairë has been weaving for many thousands of years now… It has only been with great effort that she was able to capture your wayward thread to weave you into the Fate of Arda… Your arrival…was most unsettling…"

What did that mean…? Was he going to microwave her brain right now from across the Sea? Manwë said, "So much so, that I had to seek counsel from the Father of All Things… Your place in the Great Song has been set… Fear not, Branwen Anaróriel daughter of Elrond, as I and my kindred have no quarrel with you… In time, when you are ready, you shall come to the Utter West, and then a crossroads shall be laid before you… For now though, our time is short, and we can speak no longer… I bind your Tongue so that you may not tell of this, for there is more to be laid out, and, first, the Fate of Middle Earth must be decided before the Fate of Arda may be made…"

Branwen felt in her body, far removed from her Sight, that a breeze had entered through her nose and filled her lungs and mouth for a moment with intention before she breathed it out again. Manwë bid, "Go forth, Cuiviántë, with the Blessing of the Valar…"

And then her gaze was rushing back far faster than it had gone, only the howl of wind in her ears and driving her. She thought she might be screaming. Then her head snapped backwards and hit the Throne of Amon Hen hard enough to summon stars. Her vision was dark and she could hear nothing except a dull roar…but she felt warmth enveloping her.

҉

Aragorn was approaching the top of Amon Hen. He had hoped to meet Frodo but saw that the Hobbit had returned back down already. Aragorn had found Branwen's running footprints. He had not seen any leading back down. The others were searching from Frodo and he could admit he was worried about Branwen.

Mind made up, he sprinted up to the top…and his heart nearly stopped. Branwen was seated on the Throne of Amon Hen, her gaze looking West, and her body was convulsing—her fingertips were bloody from digging them into the stone armrests and she appeared to be silently screaming.

Without a thought, he bounded up the steps as his stomach was wound in knots and his heart was now racing. He cried out, "BRANWEN!"

Aragorn wrapped his hands around her arms and tried to pull her from the seat, but it was as if she was melded into the stone and he could no more separate her from it than he could move a mountain. He kept trying, pulling as hard as he could, but it was of no use.

Her head then slammed backward into the chair, the sound of bone on rock set his teeth on edge…but she had stopped convulsing. Aragorn attempted to move her and found she had been freed from whatever magic had gripped her.

With hardly a thought, he pulled her into his arms and carried her down the stairs away from the throne. It appeared the back of her head was bleeding now along with the blood dripping from her abused fingers.

Finally, he came down from the staircase and sat on the bottom step, cradling her, and calling her name, "Branwen! Branwen! Please, wake up! What has happened!? Branwen!"

She seemed at ease now, her face was relaxed, and she was breathing regularly. He continued to call her, attempting to shake her and coax her awake, and he was rewarded a few moments later. Her eyelids opened slowly and Aragorn felt nearly like weeping. She asked, her voice sounding hoarse, "…Estel…?"

Aragorn then did cry as he wrapped her in his arms, so thankful to see her awake.

Translations:

Cuiviántë – Contraction of Cuivië and Antë; meaning Life/Awakening and Giver