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.

24. Wizardly Encounters

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

A guest reviewer pointed out that I had accidentally put February 25th for two days in a row in chapter 21. Thank you! That should be fixed now.

The Shards of Sorrow

Review: Branwen comes back to wakefulness after she has her vision of Manwë on the Throne of Amon Hen and finds herself being held by Aragorn. Shortly after, they hear the horn of Boromir and fly down the hill to find him as his horn continues to sound. The horn is silenced and they find Boromir pinned and dying against a tree. Boromir confesses his attempt to take the Ring from Frodo and the capture of unnamed Hobbits by Orcs to Aragorn as Branwen tries to heal him. Branwen is unable to heal Boromir, but her attempt gives Boromir the strength to confess his conflicted affection towards her before he passes. Branwen comforts Aragorn as they feel grief and guilt over Boromir.

Legolas and Gimli arrive and Aragorn shares what has happened. Scouring the corpses of the Orcs, Aragorn deciphers that they are of Isengard and Branwen shares her vision of an army of Orcs and Wolves in Isengard. They find two Elven daggers from the captured Hobbits before taking Boromir to lay him to rest over Rauros. After retrieving the boats, Legolas and Gimli report one of the vessels is missing but nothing else. Placing Boromir into one of the two boats and arranging him, Branwen seals his body in ice, before they take him out to the Falls of Rauros and sing a lamentation for him.

Returning to Parth Galen, it is discovered that it seemed Frodo and Sam have left toward Mordor on their own and were not captured. This brings Branwen some relief, knowing the Ring is not on the way to Saruman, and Aragorn decides for him, Gimli, Legolas, and Branwen that they shall pursue the Orcs to attempt to rescue Merry and Pippin—the Four Hunters.

They journey through Emyn Muil to and then across the plains of Rohan four days, running at great speed and vast distance, in pursuit of the Orcs. Branwen Sees that a Shadow from Saruman has come to cover vast portions of the Riddermark and, unfortunately, they are unable to keep pace with the Orcs due to a need for rest.

Finally, they have come within sight of Fangorn Forest and see a host of Rohirrim Riders returning down the Orcs' trail that the Hunters have been following at dawn on the fifth day of pursuit. Aragorn decides they should ask them of news, believing the riders caught the Orcs the Hunters have been chasing, and calls them down. The Rohirrim surround them at spear point.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Wizardly Encounters

The Third Age – February 30th, 3019

Aragorn stood completely calm with his hood down even surrounded by pointing spears.

When the leader of the Rohirrim came forward on his horse out of the circle of the other riders, pointing his spear tip at Aragorn's heart and bringing it within a foot of the Ranger, it took Branwen powerful self-control not to bend the tall leader to her will with her Voice. Aragorn remained still and placid despite the clear intimidation tactic.

The leader then asked in Westron, his voice sounding educated and commanding, "Who are you and what are you doing in this land?"

Aragorn answered easily, "I am called Strider. I came out of the North. I am hunting Orcs."

There was a pause before the rider dismounted fluidly from his horse. He lifted up his spear point and tossed the weapon to the man behind him, drawing his sword nearly in the same movement, without taking his eyes of Aragorn. The leader appeared to be evaluating Aragorn, his eyes also flicking to them still seated on either side of the Ranger.

The rider then spoke again, "At first, I thought that you yourselves were Orcs, but now I see that it is not so. Indeed, you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them."

Branwen did not think so, considering how battle-hardened these members of the Fellowship were. Also, they were all rather thirsty for blood.

The rider then looked hard at Aragorn, "But there is something strange about you, Strider. That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?"

Aragorn, unruffled by the quick barrage of questions, answered, "Not all of us. Two of our number are, one from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood and the other from the House of Elrond in Rivendell. But we passed through Lothlórien and the gifts and favor of the Lady go with us."

The leader looked at them with some awe before his eyes became suspicious again, "Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favor, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe."

No, only Branwen herself. The rider's hard gaze then came to her, Legolas, and Gimli. He spoke harshly, "Why do you not speak, silent ones?"

Gimli came to his feet, defiantly, and dropped his hood to reveal his Dwarven face. He gripped the axe handle at his waist and said proudly, "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides."

Branwen wanted to drop her head into her hands. Why did boys have to get into pissing contests like this…? The rider looked unimpressed and sneered, "As for that, the stranger should declare himself first. Yet, I am named Éomer son of Éomund and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

Well, that sounded kind of important.

҉

Éomer found the red-bearded Dwarf still defiant after naming and declaring who he was. Strider, taller than even he and looking like a noble of Gondor with dark hair and grey eyes, appeared still calm, though he was casting glances at his Dwarf companion.

The other two of the party, the two Elves apparently, stay seated with their hoods still drawn up.

The Dwarf then declared, some menace in his voice, "Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf, son of Glóin, warn you against foolish words! You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought and only little wit can excuse you."

This Dwarf dared!?

Those among his host that spoke Westron murmured angrily behind him and began to advance with their spears. Éomer reeled in his own ire and held up a hand to still his men. He still wished to learn what this motley group was doing in the lands of Rohan. He took a step around Strider to get a bit closer to the Dwarf and said, anger coloring his words, "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if you stood but a little higher from the ground."

One of the Elves leapt up, his hood falling as he did, six foot with long blonde hair like Éomer's but eyes even bluer than his own. The Elf's face was fair, like the legends spoke of, and had taken up his bow and drawn an arrow faster than a Man could see. Its aim was pointed at Éomer. He declared in a clear voice, "He stands not alone! You would die before your stroke fell!"

Éomer began to raise his sword, ready to order his men to kill them, when a voice rolled like thunder, appearing to flatten the grass outward, and filled his heart with fear as it froze him in place, "ENOUGH!"

There was only silence for a pause, even the horses had been paralyzed it seemed. Strider had appeared ready to move, but now was looking back at the last Elf that had stood. The Elf stepped forward, past Strider and toward Éomer without fear, before dropping his hood.

Éomer felt his mouth drop open as he looked upon the most beautiful face that he had ever seen in his life. Her skin was a shade between fresh cream and new snow and looked perfectly smooth and soft. Her face was heart-shaped with curvaceous petal-pink lips and a small and straight noise. Over high and sharp cheekbones rested almond-shaped eyes so vibrantly green, that it made the grass around them seem grey in comparison. She had luscious and wild ebon curls only partially tamed by a delicate silver circlet inset with a singular emerald that matched her eyes perfectly and seemed to glow with light.

She pinched her cloak with dainty fingers and curtseyed to him slightly before she spoke, her voice sounding like harps and flutes played to speak the words of Men, "I beg your pardon, Lord Éomer. I fear Master Gimli is very dearly fond of the Lady Galadriel of Lórien and took great offense that you might say ill of her. And Legolas son of Thranduil Elvenking is quite protective of our company. We have traveled far with great concern for two of our wayward companions and my comrades have forgotten themselves and how ones of their stations should act. Might I accept your grace on their behalf so as to not reignite tempers?"

Éomer lowered his sword, his eyes went past to find Legolas and Gimli had both taken more docile stances. So, this Legolas was an Elf-prince then? And Gimli the Dwarf must be of some lineage as well. It appeared the words of the lady had chastised them. Éomer could only wonder what an odd company this was and what was an Elf-maiden of such beauty was doing with them… Was she a sorceress then…?

Éomer asked, "And who might you be?"

She smiled and he felt his heart near pierced by it. Éomer had seen many fair ladies in his life, as a member of the royal house of Rohan, yet he had never seen such as her. Even his sister, regarded as the fairest of Rohan, seemed to be far beneath this creature.

She curtseyed again, "I am Lady Branwen Anaróriel, daughter of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell."

Her queenly bearing suddenly made a great deal more of sense. Elrond was a name of legends! Her eyes then went to his sword and asked, "Would you continue to speak with a lady while holding bare steel? It seems rather crass."

His immediate instinct was to put it away, but he resisted. Instead, he thought to use this as an opportunity to gain answers, so he asked, "What is it that you are doing here in the Riddermark, Lady Branwen? And, of Strider, who is he really then?"

She laughed, sounding like the sweetest of silver bells, before she said, "Do not think to ply me to your will, Lord Éomer! I am not a delicate flower and you will find intimidation and threats have little use on me!"

Éomer felt rather off-balance, used to the more compliant women of Rohan. How was he supposed to respond to her naked amusement as she, a foot shorter than him, openly laughed at him? Lady Branwen then said with a kind smile, "Let me assure you, we intend no evil to Rohan nor any of its folk—man or horse. Would you care to speak more or shall you and I cross swords?"

Éomer blinked. Cross swords? With her? How could she expect to best him in a duel? And regardless, how could he cross swords with any woman, let alone an Elf-maiden of beauty that was only spoken of in song? And how could she speak of such things so sweetly?

He scowled a bit and said, "I would hear your tale…but wanderers in the Riddermark, of lineage as yourselves or no, would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt… But first, I would have Strider's right name as all you else have given truly."

Strider stepped forward, protectively it seemed, in front of the Elf-maiden, "First, tell me whom you serve. Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"

Éomer reared back as if struck. Who dared to speak that name so freely? No servant of the Dark Lord would. Éomer felt his senses return as his vision came away from the she-Elf. Éomer declared, "I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel. We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him. If you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all borders and we are threatened, but we desire only to be free, to live our lives as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil!

We welcomed guests in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Your companions are revealed! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command does such a strange Company, with an Elf-woman, hunt Orcs in our land?"

Strider declared, "I serve no man, but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. As Lady Branwen had spoken, we are in chase of two companions. They had been captured by the Orcs we pursued. In such need, a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless."

Strider then threw back his cloak and, faster than a Man could nock an arrow, drew his longsword in a single motion and thrust it high with a cry, "Elendil!"

The blade seemed to blaze with white light that put fear in Éomer's heart as surely as the Voice of the Lady Branwen. Strider declared, "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor! Here is the Sword that was Broken and forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"

Éomer looked in awe as it seemed ancient tales came to life before him on this day. His eyes slid past the King among Men and saw Lady Branwen gazing at Aragorn with pride and affection.

Éomer stepped back with deference as he lowered his gaze.

҉

Branwen saw Éomer step back and smiled. That had felt a little close there and she had been banking on the proud Rohirrim feeling out of step when facing her. It seemed to have paid off. Although, if she had known Aragorn was going to reveal himself in any case, she would have simply introduced him.

Although, she admitted the theatrics had tickled her fancy. How Aragorn had intentionally stepped in front of her so protectively might have annoyed her if he had been anyone else, but she felt it rather endearing from him. Branwen realized there were butterflies in her stomach again and imagined biting them all in two.

Éomer muttered, "These are indeed strange days… Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass."

Branwen had to stifle a chuckle before Éomer raised his voice, "Tell me, lord, what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?"

Branwen felt a stab of guilt at the thought of Boromir, carried by Anduin and East Wind into the West.

Aragorn declared, "The doom of choice. You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel—open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters, we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now, I am in great need and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an Orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?"

Éomer answered, "That you need not pursue them further. The Orcs are destroyed."

Branwen felt his mouth go dry as Aragorn asked, "And our friends?"

Éomer seemed regretful but said, "We found none by Orcs."

Branwen let out a sigh. It seemed likely then that either the Hobbits were slain as the Orcs came under attack…or maybe they discovered the Hobbits did not bear the Ring and so they were devoured. Aragorn was not so easily dissuaded, "Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of Orc-kind? They would be small, only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey."

Éomer shook his head, "There were no Dwarves or children. We counted all the slain and despoiled them, then we piled the carcasses and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are still smoking."

Branwen bowed her head, her heart aching, even as Gimli said urgently, "We do not speak of children or Dwarves! Our friends are Hobbits."

Éomer seemed confused, which was not unusual as Hobbits were little known, and asked, "Hobbits? And what may they be? It is a strange name."

Gimli answered, "A strange name for a strange folk. But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These Hobbits are Halflings."

The rider next to Éomer laughed, "Halflings!? Halflings are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North! Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?"

Branwen felt this man's disbelief rather grating and more akin to the bleating of a sheep. Her words came sharply, "You sit before a Dúnadan from the Line of Kings bearing Elendil's re-forged Narsil, an Elf-prince of the Woodland Realm, a Dwarf-warrior descended from Durin the Deathless, and an Elf-Lady of Rivendell. Legends live and breathe and do not require you to believe in them to be real!"

The rider favored her with a scowl before he said to Éomer, in Rohirric, "Time is pressing! We must hasten South, my lord. Let us leave these queer folk to their fancies, or let us bind them and take them to the king."

Branwen snapped at the rider, "Then you should not interrupt with your useless blather!"

The unnamed rider looked shocked before Éomer said, "Peace, Éothain! Leave me a while. Tell the éored to assemble on the path and make ready to ride to the Entwade."

Éothain gave her a suspicious look, muttering the while, before he ordered the men away. The spears were raised and they horsemen drew off back to the trail in formation. Éomer looked at Branwen and observed, "You speak Rohirric… That is not something we readily share with outsiders."

Branwen felt her lips curl with some amusement, "I came across a rather kind stable boy while traveling through Rohan some seventy years ago who had been glad to teach me."

Éomer seemed skeptical but then turned back to Aragorn, "All you say is strange, Aragorn. Yet you speak the truth, that is plain—the Men of the Mark do no lie and therefore are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?"

Aragorn answered, "We set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago. With me, went Boromir of Minas Tirith. Mine and Branwen's errand was to go to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against Sauron. But the Company that we journeyed with had other business. Of that, I cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader."

Éomer looked surprised, "Gandalf! Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark, but his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to the king's favor. He has been a guest in the land many times in the memory of Men, coming as he will, after a season or many years. He is ever the herald of strange events—a bringer of evil, some now say.

Indeed, since his last coming in the summer, all things have gone amiss. At that time, our trouble with Saruman began. Until then, we had counted Saruman our friend, but Gandalf came then and warned us that sudden war was preparing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner in Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Théoden would not listen to him and he went away.

Speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in Théoden's ears! He is wrathful. For Gandalf took the horse that is called Shadowfax, the most precious of all the king's steeds, chief of the Mearas, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. For the sire of their race was the great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago, Shadowfax returned, but the king's anger is not less, for now the horse is wild and will let no man handle him."

Aragorn hummed in thought, "Then Shadowfax has found his way alone from the Far North, for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But, regrettably, Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes not again."

Éomer looked shocked before he said, "That is heavy tidings… At least to me and to many, though not to all, as you may find, if you come to the king."

Branwen was feeling suspicious now. Théoden was apparently fond of Gandalf in years past, at least from what Éomer had implied, but now had become suspicious and unhelpful. She began to wonder if maybe this Shadow of Saruman was even more powerful than she had imagined…

Aragorn responded to Éomer, "It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand, though it may touch them sorely before the year is much older. But when the great fall, the lesser must lead. My part has been to guide our Company on the long road from Moria. Through Lórien we came—of which it would be well that you should learn the truth before you speak of it again—and then down the leagues of the Great River to the Falls of Rauros. There, Boromir was slain by the same Orcs whom you destroyed."

Branwen bowed her head, feeling again guilt at her uselessness, as Éomer exclaimed, "Your news is all of woe! Great harm is his death to Minas Tirith and to us all. That was a worthy man! All spoke his praise. He came seldom to the Mark for he was ever in the wars on the East borders, but I have seen him. More like to the swift sons of Eorl than to the grave Men of Gondor, he seemed to me, and likely to prove a great captain of his people when his time came. But we have no word of this grief out of Gondor. When did he fall?"

Aragorn answered, "It is now the fourth day since he was slain and since the evening of that day, we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir."

Éomer stared at them with open-mouthed awe, "On foot?"

Aragorn nodded, "Yes, even as you see us."

Éomer declared, "Strider is too poor a name, Son of Arathorn. Wingfoot, I name you! This deed of four friends should be sung in many a hall! One-hundred and thirty-five miles you have measured before the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil!

But now, lord, what would you have me do? I must return in haste to Théoden. I spoke warily before my men. It is true that we are not yet at open war with the Black Land and there are some, close to the king's ear, that speak craven counsels, but war is coming."

Branwen hummed quietly in thought. Maybe not just a Shadow of Saruman over Rohan then, but a servant or servants of Saruman had come into the Hall of Théoden King. Saruman had seemed so very peripheral in the matter of the Ring, running as they have been from Nazgûl and traveling through Moria. She had viewed him more of an obstacle to move around as he consolidated his power in Isengard…but it seemed he was not simply content in harassing the Kingdoms of Men and speaking with birds.

The White Wizard appeared to be trying to aggressively expand his influence. Branwen imagined he might have been less overt had he managed to turn Gandalf, but, after Gandalf escaped and Saruman's betrayal was made clear, the White Wizard had little reason to hide his actions. Classic budding Dark Lord opening play when subterfuge was no longer an option…

She turned her attention back to the conversation, having heard Éomer say he had closed and emptied the East-mark of horses and Men, as Gimli asked for clarification, "Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?"

Éomer seemed insulted and declared, "We do not and we never have! Though it comes to my ears that that lie has been told. Some years ago, the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses of us at great price, but we refused him, for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering Orcs and they carry off what they can, always choosing the black horses—few of these are now left. For that reason, our feud with Orcs is bitter.

But at this time, our chief concern is with Saruman. He had claimed ownership over all this land and there has been war between us for many months. He has taken Orcs into his service, Warg-riders, evil Men, and has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both East and West."

Ah! Things began to make sense. If Saruman had claimed ownership over the land, that would give him great influence over it and thus why his Shadow was spread so far and so powerfully! However, that called into question how he could have done so… The Land of Rohan was claimed by the King of the Rohirrim….

Likely, that was the only reason it had not spread across its entirety then. The will of the Men of Rohan, though unable to counter Saruman's claim with magic, was felt strongly by the land as well… She had only ever seen small bits and pieces of the magic that Gandalf performed, but it seemed that there was logic to the magic of the Istari that she was familiar with.

Éomer continued, "It is ill dealing with such a foe—he is a wizard both cunning and dwimmer-crafty, having many guises. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hood and cloaked, very like Gandalf, as many now recall. His spies slip through every net and his birds of ill omen are abroad in the sky. I do not know how it will all end and my heart misgives me—for it seems to me that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard. But if you come to the king's house, you shall see yourself. Will you not come? Do I hope in vain that you have been sent to me for help in doubt and need?"

Branwen felt some respect grow for Éomer. Though he had no magic to speak of, it was clear that he was wise enough to suspect things as they truly were. From the small glimpses that she Saw from his surface thoughts, he was indeed honorable, good, and stout of heart. However, his question was for Aragorn and it was her prerogative to follow Aragorn rather than be followed.

Aragorn answered, "I will come when I may."

Éomer did not seem satisfied, his confusion as to why Aragorn would delay, and he bid, "Come now! The Heir of Elendil would be a strength indeed to the Sons of Eorl in this evil tide. There is battle end now upon the West Emnet and I fear that it may go ill for us!

Indeed, in this riding North, I went without the king's leave, for in my absence, his house is left with little guard. But scouts warned me of the Orc-host coming down out of the East Wall four nights ago and, among them, they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So, suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my éored, men of my own household. We overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood.

There, we surrounded them and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost and twelves horses! For the Orcs were greater in number that we counted on. Others joined them, coming out of the East across the Great River—their trail is plain to see a little North of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard—that kind is stronger and more fell than all others.

Nonetheless, we put an end to them! But we have been too long away. We are needed South and West. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood! I spoke only as all men in my land and I would gladly learn better."

Branwen asked, now amused, "And what of me? Shall I sit and drink herbal tea eating cakes with the ladies? My blade is just as sharp, and I have slain two Orc-captains, and a number of lesser Orcs and Wargs besides."

Éomer seemed again off-balance as he looked at her before Aragorn said to the Rohirrim Marshal, to move the conversation along, "I thank you for your fair words and my heart desires to come with you, but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains."

Éomer was adamant, "Hope does not remain. You will not find your friends on the North borders."

Aragorn was unmoved, "Yet, my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that at least one of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs, we have found no other trace of them and no trail turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me."

"Then what do you think has become of them?"

Aragorn bowed his head, "I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs, but you say that cannot be and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?"

Éomer nodded, "I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them. We reached the forest eaves before them and, if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some Elvish power."

Branwen felt some faint hope come back even as Aragorn said what she was thinking, "Our friends were attired even as we are and you passed us by under the full light of day."

Éomer became pensive and admitted, "I had forgotten that… It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is grown strange. Elf-prince and lady with Dwarf-lord in company walk in our daily fields, folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live, and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages before the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?"

Branwen could See that Éomer truly was conflicted in his open thoughts. Aragorn appeared to have judged the man honorable and good as he did not attempt to sway him. Instead, he told Éomer, "As he ever has judged. Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man's part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house."

Éomer nodded, "True indeed. But I do not doubt you nor the deed which my heart would do. Yet, I am not free to do all as I would. It is against out law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril. I have begged you to come back willingly with me and you will not. Loathe am I to begin a battle of one hundred against three and a maiden."

Branwen thought she might be able to wrap them in her Veil and erase them completely, at least for a short time. The cloaks of Galadhrim were powerful and would likely help her do so. At the very least, though it would kill her to do so, she might have to abandon Gimli and Legolas to save Aragorn.

Aragorn replied to Éomer, his voice firm and authoritative, "I do not think your law was made for such a chance. Nor Indeed am I a stranger, for I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have spoken with Éomund, your father, and with Théodon son of Thengel.

Never in former days would any high lord of this land have constrained a man to abandon such a quest as mine. My duty at least is clear—to go on. Come now, son of Éomund, the choice must be made at last. Aid us or, at worst, let us go free. Or seek to carry out your law. If you do so, there will be fewer to return to your war or to your king."

Éomer was silent for a pause, as he weighed the words in his mind, and then Branwen relaxed at what she Saw. He then said, "We both have need of haste. My company chafes to be away and every hour lessens your hope. This is my choice. You may go and, what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask—when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus, you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail."

Aragorn vowed, "I will not."

Before he ordered the spare horses brought around, Branwen saw that Éomer truly did fear that he may forfeit his life with this if their party did not return. He was no longer sure of Théoden King or his affections despite being kin, or so his surface thoughts spoke. Branwen had nearly forgotten how useful her Sight was in discerning thoughts, so surrounded she had been with Elves and those she would prefer not to See into. It was the one benefit she supposed of being around Men.

The riders under Éomer did not look kindly upon them and most suspicions seemed directed at her. Many thought her beauty was something to be distrusted rather than admired. At least, it was not feared as it had been on Earth.

The rider she had rebuked earlier, Éothain, was the most vocal against the giving of the three horses, "It may be well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he claims, but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf? And I do not trust these Elves either."

Éothain cast another accusatory glance at her as Gimli answered for himself, "No one has heard of a Rohirrim horse given to a Dwarf. And do not trouble yourself—no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged."

Aragorn told Gimli, "But you must ride now, or you will hinder us."

Legolas said, "One of us would have to ride pillion in any case and, this way, Lady Branwen might have her own steed. Her saber is best used from horseback as it were. Come, Gimli, you shall sit behind me and then you need not be troubled by a horse!"

A massive dark grey stallion was brought up for Aragorn and Aragorn climbed into his saddle. Éomer said, "Hasufel is his name. May he bear you well and to better fortune than Gárulf, his late master!"

A horse, not nearly so large and lighter in color but fiery, was brought up for Legolas. Éomer said, "His name is Arod. He is smaller than Hasufel, but fierce."

Legolas said, "You may take the saddle and bridle! I need them not."

Éomer was skeptical but complied and Legolas slid onto his back gracefully after just a quick word to the horse. The Rohirrim looked in wonder as fierce Arod was compliant and quite happy beneath the Elf-prince. Gimli was helped up behind Legolas and looked ill at ease so far from the ground.

Éomer brought up the last horse and he was a grey so dark that he was nearly black. He seemed a bit calmer than Arod, but not by much, and he was closer to Hasufel's size. Éomer looked unsure and asked, "Are you sure that you are comfortable riding, my lady? Fléotig here is not for the faint of heart or the inexperienced rider."

Branwen looked into the liquid eyes of the dark beast. He was strong, willful, powerful…and she realized she already had plans for this stallion. She laughed with her Voice, "Hear my Voice, Fléotig! We shall be good companions until we part ways! …Though, I think I may purchase you entirely, if my coin is still accepted in Edoras, when we go that way."

She felt the stallion's affections come forth at her words. Yes, she might indeed forge a Familiar bond with him, if she chose. Fléotig then moved forward and nudged her fondly with his nose. Éomer looked again in surprise and asked, "Can all Elves so easily commune with beasts as you and Legolas?"

Branwen looked at him and replied, "Perhaps…"

His men were looking at her with suspicion again though. It appeared the feat of Legolas, something to be awed at with him, instead was met with mistrust for her. Such was the life of a Witch, she supposed. Seeing his surface thoughts again, though he hid it on his face, she could see that Éomer was still greatly worried of how his choice of loaning the horses and not binding them might be taken by Théoden.

Maybe… Yes, Éomer was honorable and good, she could See that. She felt it might earn some trust and ease his heart a bit as well. If they were to fight in a war together after they had either rescued the Hobbits or recovered their bones, it would be nice to have some goodwill.

Branwen lifted her circlet from her head and presented it to Éomer, "You shall hold onto this for me until we come to Meduseld."

Legolas immediately cried, "Lady Branwen, no! That is far too precious!"

Gimli agreed, "Indeed! Reconsider, my lady!"

Éomer was looking at the circlet with some apprehension now. Branwen ignored the Elf and Dwarf and said, "This is a mithril circlet with an elfstone that has captured within it the first light of the dawn. It was given to me by my grandmother, Lady Galadriel of Lórien, to recognize me as an Elf-Lady and an Elven-power of Middle Earth. I shall lend this to you as collateral and in faith of our covenant to come to Meduseld. May this ease your heart and maybe its presence might prove to Théoden King our sincerity. Pray, do not lose it or let any take it from you. I shall have this back, one way or another, and its presence will not be hidden from my Sight."

Indeed, the Wyld that so powerfully infused the elfstone was quite bright in the Unseen and she could sense it now after traveling with it for the last few weeks.

Éomer bowed his head as he carefully took the circlet, "Thank you, Lady Branwen, and I shall keep this safe for your return. Your gesture has eased my heart greatly."

She smiled, even as she held his gaze and entered his mind. Branwen said to him, "That gladdens my own heart. Be well until we return."

As she spoke, his eyes widening sharply, as hidden from his men, her thoughts spoke as well, 'The Wizard Saruman has cast a great Shadow with magic upon the Riddermark that wearies the hearts of the Free Peoples and empowers his servants. Birds and beasts are his spies. Remain leery of those speaking in his favor and think on the changes you have seen in Théoden King."

Éomer nodded slowly, "Yes, my lady…"

Branwen gave a small laugh at his wonder before she swung up into Fléotig's saddle. She nudged Fléotig toward Aragorn and Hasufel. Éomer raised the circlet as he said, "Farewell! May you find what you seek! Return with what speed you may and let our swords hereafter shine together!"

Aragorn declared, "I will come."

Gimli announced, "And I will come too! The matter of Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech!"

Éomer nodded as his eyes drifted to Branwen, "We shall see…though I believe I may begin to understand a little. I look forward to your return."

Branwen said, "Remember my words, Éomer son of Éomund. And make sure that my circlet does not leave your sight. I shall be most…vexed if it were to grow legs and walk off. And woe be to the fool that would help it do so!"

Éomer bowed his head, "You have my word. Farewell!"

҉

Fléotig moved powerfully beneath her and Branwen was happy to be on a horse again. Her thoughts turned to her lost horse Shade. She imagined her mare had likely returned to Bree by now and was being put to use by Barliman. The strength of Fléotig was far greater though and he and the other Mearas of the Riddermark were swift and vigorous.

Aragorn was keeping his eyes on the trail as she and Legolas followed behind. Gimli did look a bit like a rather hairy child behind Legolas and it brought her some amusement. As they went, Gimli said with strong feeling, "You should not have lent such a token, my lady! That crown was worth enough to buy entire herds of these horses! And a keepsake from Lady Galadriel, as well!"

Branwen chuckled, "Oh, Gimli, I have some faith Éomer. From what I Saw of his thoughts, he is a good an honorable man. He did not say he put his life in danger for little reason either. He fears Théoden's response as he feels he does not recognize his king anymore. I worry that Saruman is influencing him somehow… Maybe this accursed Shadow? I cannot tell.

But I do have an idea how he has cast it so far and wide now! Éomer said that Saruman has laid ownership over this land and to lay claim to something is to claim mastery over it in magic. To stifle this expansive Shadow, Saruman's claim must be invalidated and then it should, I think, retreat to Isengard. I feel that the will of the Men of Rohan and how they war with his servants have stymied his claim and Shadow from stretching across the entirety of the Riddermark.

I now have a better idea of the rules that might govern these Shadows cast by dark sorcerers as well. I believe the Balrog had laid claim to Moria by driving out the Dwarves so very long ago when it was awoken. The Shadow of Mordor is strong because Sauron has laid claim to the Land of Mordor. The Shadow of the Nine is spread as they move, but, it means that it fades and dissipates with time and distance.

In that sense, that is how Lady Galadriel casts her Light across Lórien as well. As she and Lord Celeborn claim it as their realm."

Legolas seemed thoughtful, "Does this mean that you could do similarly to Lady Galadriel should you claim some land as your own?"

Branwen laughed, "I am unsure… With time and effort, I might be able to replicate creating a Light of my own, but I would need to first claim my own power from myself as Lady Galadriel has instructed. She was adamant that I have no need for a staff and must master myself. Once I have done that…well, who can say? I sincerely doubt that I could replicate what her Light does. I will leave unsaid, but she also boasts a great source of power, and I do not know if my own source is of equal match as I have not attempted to compare."

Gimli asked in a whisper, "You speak of what Frodo said? That she possesses—"

Aragorn's voice came back to them harshly, "We do not speak of it at all!"

Branwen looked up and found his eyes were still on the ground to see the tracks, but he was frowning deeply now. She said to Gimli, "Yes, as Aragorn says… In any case, my education in magic continues though as a lifelong student and it is rather pleasant for me to demystify something that I have wondered of since I have first come across it… There is a great Shadow over Mirkwood as well and I remember Gandalf speaking that Sauron had laid claim to Dol Goldur there. I assume the Spiders of Mirkwood are servants of Sauron in some form so that their influence has spread his Shadow."

Legolas commented, "I was not aware that you were familiar with Mirkwood."

Branwen looked at him in surprise and then realized she had not shared with the Company, excluding Aragorn and the Hobbits, that she had previously been a guest of the Woodland Realm and the Elvenking's Halls. She then chuckled and told Legolas, "I believe you know that I can hide my presence and maybe you have heard that I can disguise myself as well. Look at me for a moment, would you, Legolas?"

He did so and she changed her appearance to Ashwen. He looked at the plain face of Ashwen in confusion before she said, "I am unsure if you remember me, but I believe I saw you once or twice in passing with your father. I was Tauriel's guest over seventy years ago and I was usually in the archives after Tauriel had taught me Sindarin."

Legolas looked surprised and said, "I do remember! I had seen you as well and paid you no mind! That was only a little while before the Dwarven Company that had gone to Erebor had been held captive for a while!"

Gimli grumbled, "My father among them…"

Branwen laughed, "Yes! I had meant to ask, how is Tauriel since I left the Woodland Realm so long ago? She did not know my true name or appearance as I was still quite shy, but I have always thought of her fondly."

Legolas said, "Last I saw her, she was well. She guards the Woodland Realm fiercely against the Spiders… They have become much worse in the years that have followed."

Branwen frowned, "I can imagine… Should we make it out of this all alive, would you apologize to her for me? I have always felt some shame for not revealing myself to her considering how kind she was to me. She did not even know that I was a Witch as I was weary of suspicion from the people of Middle Earth."

Legolas laughed, "I think she would not hold a grudge. She is quite kind and will likely find some amusement in it knowing that a future daughter of Elrond and Elf-Lady was once her guest! And taught her the Elvish Tongue as well!"

Branwen allowed the Veil fo Ashwen to fall away as they continued onward. Soon, they arrived at the Entwash and followed another trail Eastward for a while, behind Aragorn's lead. Finally, Aragorn dismounted for a closer look and seemed to examine the prints for a while before declaring, "There is little to discover. The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back. Their outward course must have lain nearer the river. But this Eastward trail is fresh and clear.

There is no sign of any feet going the other way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower and make sure that no trace or footstep branches of on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued. They may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they were overtaken."

Aragorn leapt back into the saddle and set a much slower pace as his eyes were focused on the edges of the trail. In her Sight, there was little that she could discern in the magic. As if to impede Aragorn's efforts, clouds began to roll in from the East and mist began to come from the distant forest. To her inexperienced eyes, there was little deviation from the main path of the Orcs except some stragglers who had been killed by Rohirrim arrows.

They traveled many hours and, finally, as the sun was fading behind the clouds, they came to the edge of the Fangorn. The Wyld of Fangorn was thick, primal, and aware in a way she had never seen before. She could See just outside the tree line, in a wide clearing, there was the massive pile of Orc corpses that had been set alight.

Before they entered, Branwen halted and warned, "This forest is dangerous… It is not just untamed and unwelcoming to strangers, it seems…awake. I would caution us venturing further in then what is required… I do not claim to have the power to shield us from whatever creatures may dwell within…"

Aragorn replied, "I have heard Fangorn is a place to have care and care we shall have. Come! Our hunt is surely nearing its end."

Branwen nudged Fléotig forward and resumed followed the others. From a distance, she had thought Fangorn like the dark magical forests of Earth, but this felt far greater than that. In her Sight, the trees were filled with magic and life. So much so, she felt that it would not be strange for them to move. In a way, they reminded her of the Whomping Willow of Hogwarts.

Journeying past the tree line, they entered the clearing. As she had seen, all the Orc bodies had been cast into one pile and burned. Next to it was a pile of broken weapons and armor. It seemed the Rohirrim had taken the time to leave one last gruesome sign of their victory—a Great Orc head was staked into the ground and looking out with pain and fury as its last expression under the a helm bearing Saruman's symbol.

They dismounted and began to search in the dying light of the afternoon for any trace of Merry or Pippin, but none were found. Branwen knew she did not have the skill to locate traces of escaping Hobbits and so took more time poking about the burned corpses to See if she might spot any traces of Hobbits corpses within the dissipating malice leaving the Orcs.

Branwen found her gaze sliding past and to the trees beyond them. She noticed that some trees had been cut down, likely by the Rohirrim to craft this pyre for the Orcs…and the Wyld was angry. She would even go so far to say as the trees were angry. Though they remained still, Branwen felt they might move if she were to turn away from them.

She did not like this forest…

Eventually, night fell and they reconvened. Branwen felt her heart grow heavy as Gimli declared, "We can do no more. We have been set many riddles since we came from Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the Hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs'. It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it, and hard too for the old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming."

Branwen sighed heavily, "I could not See any trace of them within the pyre…but the fire has cleared away most of the Orcs' malice and I fear that it would have surely burned away the soft spirits of Hobbits. I will admit, it does not yet feel real, lacking bodies or any trace of them at all, but it seems the most likely… I too was against them coming."

Legolas said quietly, "But Gandalf was not."

Gimli replied, "But Gandalf chose to come himself and he was the first to be lost… His foresight failed him."

Aragorn spoke, "The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others. There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. But I shall not depart from this place yet. In any case, we must await the light of morning here."

They moved away from the Orc pyre and set camp beneath a large chestnut-like tree with long boughs. It, like the other trees, seemed oddly aware in Branwen's Sight and it seemed even more peculiar as well. It still had dried and brown leaves from last year, even with a few of the other trees now budding anew around it.

As they pulled some blankets from Branwen's pack, Gimli seemed to look toward the forest suspiciously and said, "Let us light a fire! I care no longer for the danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer moths around a candle!"

Legolas agreed, "If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them here."

Branwen muttered, "Orcs are the least of my worries among these trees…"

Aragorn looked at her before he replied, "A fire might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit. We are near to the mountain marches of the traitor Saruman. Also, we are at the edges of Fangorn and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said."

Branwen realized then what she had not noticed as she had been so concerned about the Wyld of Fangorn. They were near Isengard and yet, the Shadow of Saruman did not extend into the trees. Branwen looked towards the open plain still in view and Saw that the Shadow faded rather quickly once it came in touch with the Wyld of Fangorn.

Now, if that was not telling, she did not know what was…

Gimli rebutted, "But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet, they passed the night after safely here when their labor was ended."

Aragorn responded, "They were many and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!"

Gimli stood and declared, "There is no need! The Riders have left chip and bough enough and there is dead wood lying in plenty."

He went off to gather without waiting for a response and Branwen frowned. Was a fire likely to provoke the Wyld of Fangorn? Or had it just been the felling of their kind? Would a fire draw whatever was lurking here in Fangorn or keep it at bay? She could now Know from her limited Seeing here.

Eventually, Gimli was back, dug a pit lined with stones, and built a small pile of wood. Branwen did not notice any change in the Wyld as he worked and stepped up next to him before he could try to light it. With a word, the wood caught and Gimli smiled, "Much appreciated, my lady!"

She hummed absentmindedly in acknowledgement as she was Seeing the Wyld. There was some…wariness it seemed…but no resentment. Branwen leaned down and picked up one of the burning pieces like a torch and the suspicion of the Wyld in the trees nearby increased and felt on the edge of anger. Branwen put it back into the pit and the Wyld calmed after a moment.

Aragorn brought her from her thoughts, "Branwen, what is it?"

She looked at him and found the other two were gazing at her in curiosity as well. Branwen answered, "I…don't know… The trees here are strange."

She stepped to the edge of the camp and began to craft her wards before sitting next to the fire with the others. As she worked, her attention was drawn back by Legolas' words, "Look! The tree is glad of the fire!"

Branwen turned quickly and…she could have sworn that the branches had not been so curved before. If one squinted, it might almost appear that the old chestnut tree was indeed bent over the fire as if to heat itself, its hand-like leaves warming themselves over the flame. The Wyld seemed to have settled further as well, as if, now that it was clear they meant no harm to the trees, it was willing to abide them.

She finished her wards against malice quickly and added a secondary layer of the same. She hoped that it might dissuade anything from coming into their campsite…or give them a moment to arm themselves if not.

Branwen rejoined the others by the fire and wrapped herself up in blankets. After a few moments of staring into the fire, Legolas said, "Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn. Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard?"

Branwen looked at Aragorn. This might give her some clue as to discern the nature of Fangorn. Aragorn shrugged, "I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere, but, if it were not for the words of Celeborn, I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter. And if an Elf of the wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?"

Branwen felt some disappointment. It was rare that Aragorn did not have an inkling of some sort, as well traveled as he was. Legolas replied, "You have journeyed further than I. I have heard nothing of this land in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, the Men call Ents, dwelt here long ago—for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it."

Orodrim? Ents? Branwen felt those terms were familiar, but part of the older obscure lore that she had come across in the archives of Imladris.

Aragorn nodded, "Yes, it is old. As old as the forest by the Barrow Downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are kin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet, Fangorn holds some secret its own. What it is, I do not know."

Branwen said, "I will tell you what I Know thus far, from what I have Seen. The Wyld here is aware and primal. The trees are full of magic and life and they seem awake. The trees in the clearing near the pyre and the stumps of the felled trees…were angry.

I lit the fire earlier because I was curious if they were angered because of fire, the cutting down of their brethren, or both… When I lit the fire, they became wary of us. When I lifted the torch, they became suspicious. After I put it down, the Wyld calmed again after a time and now it seems to have accepted us for now as we are not cutting trees or setting them aflame.

Most telling, I think, though we are so close to Isengard, the Wyld of Fangorn repels the Shadow of Saruman… I do not like this forest and the trees remind me of one that I had encountered in years passed that could move… I could have sworn the branches of the tree that we are under were not shaped so earlier."

The others looked up to the tree wearily and some disbelief before Gimli seemed to shiver, "You speak of the trees as if they are alive! I do not wish to know anymore! Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn, plant or beast, be troubled on my account!"

Branwen sighed as she looked at Gimli, "Very well… But mind your axe and mind the fire, Master Dwarf. As I told Boromir in Lórien, ancient forests can hold as many perils as deep caverns."

Aragorn closed the conversation, "In any case, let us draw lots for the watch this evening and get some rest."

By chance, Gimli drew the first watch for the evening and the rest bedded down, Branwen giving one last suspicious look about the forest. As she laid down, she heard Aragorn say to Gimli, "Mind Branwen's words and touch no living wood. But do not stay far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather. Call me at need."

Branwen closed her eyes and fell into slumber.

҉

Branwen was brought back to wakefulness at the sound of a sudden scrambling of movement on dead leaves and undergrowth. She sat up quickly and saw Aragorn and Legolas had done the same as Gimli looked frightened. At the edge of the firelight, it appeared just outside her wards, there was an old man with a stooped back resting against a tall staff. He wore a large billowy cloak that completely obstructed his body and a tall hat with a wide brim.

Branwen Saw that, about him, there was a deep Shadow that covered him, though the Wyld of Fangorn seemed to refuse it. In a singular movement, she had drawn her sword and pointed it at the old man and began chanting over and over in a whisper, "Outer Fence of Protection from Malice, Outer Fence of Protection from Malice, Outer Fence of Protection from Malice…"

She drew, pulled, pleaded, and demanded all the strength that she could siphon from the Shards and the Wyld. Oddly, the Wyld of Fangorn seemed more receptive to her pleas of protection, as if it hated this person before her, and the double-barrier of protection glowed with golden light.

The old man raised up his arm as if to shield his hidden eyes. The others had drawn their weapons and Legolas loosed an arrow. The old man batted the arrow away with his staff and then struck the head against the ground.

There was a sudden flash of color and, after blinking away the spots of her vision, Branwen Saw there was only a trail of Shadow disappearing off away from them Westward. She kept up her chanting as she swept her gaze to follow the trail. Had he cloaked himself in Shadow like wraith and disappeared into the Unseen? He was quick…but then again, he was an Istari. The Wyld of Fangorn was agitated…but not with them, it seemed.

Before she could think further, Legolas yelled, "The horses!"

She could only See them running away from them, their pickets dragging behind them. Branwen called out with her Voice, "Come back!"

"Heed not!"

And her command was shattered by the powerful Voice that had followed behind hers. She whipped around…but he was gone. His Voice had simply carried his command at a distance. After a few tense moments, Branwen dropped her sword.

Aragorn asked slowly, "…Was that…?"

Branwen answered, "…I'm not sure…but I think so. He had a great Shadow over him. And he broke my command to bring the horses back."

Legolas and Gimli were looking about with leery gazes. Once it was clear that he was gone…at least for the moment, Branwen allowed herself to feel acute failure and stabbed her sword into the ground, "FUCK! What's the point in me having magic if I can't even bring back runaway horses!?"

Branwen was now crouched and curled into herself. She felt so fucking useless… The only thing she always had going for her was her powerful magic…and now she had nothing. She had a source of Power specifically channeled through her Voice and words and yet, her command had been broken like novice spellcasters bewitchments!

Aragorn stooped down next to her, Andúril still drawn, and said quickly, "Branwen, now's not the time if he's about!"

Branwen sighed, "He's run off back West, cloaking himself in his own Shadow, it seems… His command had been a parting shot, I think. Either he had loosed the horses before showing himself or they had gotten scared and ran off themselves with no encouragement…"

Hearing that, Gimli and Legolas relaxed minutely even as they could hear, far off in the distance, a sudden neighing of horses that continued to grow more distant.

Aragorn remarked at the fading whinnies, "Well, they are gone. We cannot find them or catch them. Can you call them back now that he has gone, Branwen?"

Branwen spoke quietly, with great shame, "I fear that he would simply Hear me call them and break my command again. He cannot have gone terribly far yet. By the time he is far enough away, the horses will likely be long gone to Edoras."

Aragorn accepted it that and said, no blame or concern in his tone, "If they do not return on their own, we must do without. We started on our feet and we still have those."

Gimli did not appear so willing to accept that and threw some fuel into the fire with irritation, "Feet! But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them."

Branwen felt a sharp stab of humiliation before Legolas laughed at Gimli's words, "Only a few hours ago, you were unwilling to sit on a horse of Rohan! You will make a rider yet!"

Gimli's response stung again as he said, "It seems unlikely that I shall have the chance…"

They came to sit by the fire again, Branwen feeling her lack of powerful magic most intensely now. She had lamented her lack of ability to save Boromir, but healing magic had never been her forte. Even should she have had her staff, she likely would have been unable to save him. But this…she had been a master of spells designed for war and destruction! Now…she was forced to hide beneath pitifully weak wards and had a simple command to animals broken like thin glass.

Branwen was no Elven power…she was a mutant Witch that was useless without a wand.

She held her head in her hands as she felt the Shards within her and she tugged on them uselessly… What was she supposed to do? Accept them? But how!?

Gimli spoke again after a while, "So that was Saruman…Gone off with our horses or scared them away…and here we are. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!"

She could feel her presence was now dismissed. She was not expected to counter Saruman because she had shown she could not. Branwen stood suddenly and marched away to walk out onto the fields a bit. Aragorn called, "Branwen! Where are you going!?"

She sniped back over her shoulder, "To be useless somewhere else! Leave me alone!"

No one came after her and she stepped out on the plains a good distance from the forest. She drew her sword and began to furiously go through her drills as she imagined each strike taking of the head of Saruman or stabbing him through his heart.

Fuck…

҉

Aragorn sighed deeply as he could see the distant figure of Branwen furiously dancing with the pale moonlight gleaming off her thin saber. Legolas seemed to be watching her with some sadness on his face. Gimli had looked at her oddly before turning back to the fire.

Legolas then faced back around and said to Gimli, "I think that she took your words to heart…"

Gimli looked at him and appeared confused, "…But I did not say anything to her…"

Aragorn groaned as Legolas gave a short laugh and explained, "Oh, friend Gimli, do you not think that Lady Branwen blames herself for the loss of our horses and is missing her staff so very strongly at this time?"

Gimli opened his mouth to respond and then paused. He seemed to think for a moment, "…Ah…"

Aragorn sighed and nodded, "Yes… I can imagine that she is. You two have not seen the strength she could bring to bear…maybe you saw a bit when she cleared our way off Caradhras, slew the Wargs, and held off the Watcher of the West Gate of Moria, but her power was…astonishing. When she banished eight of the Nine into the Bruinen, it was like a river of fire that left naught but ash in its wake. Her Voice broke the ground around her. It was similar on Weathertop when she cast five of Nine off the hillside. I can only imagine how helpless she feels now…"

Gimli folded his arms, "…I spoke without thinking of how she might feel. More than anything, I am simply frustrated. Damn that Saruman! …Why does she not craft a new staff? I remember something vaguely about a Dragon?"

Aragorn shrugged, "From what I remember, her staff was not simply wood. She had said that inside of it were Dragon heartstrings and it was crafted in the way of her homeland. Gandalf was to show her how to make a staff like a Wizard…but then he fell. She has not had any opportunity to craft a new one in the fashion of her folk since. Lady Galadriel had also told her that she did not need a staff and she needed to…master herself.

Branwen spent that entire month in Lórien meditating on her magic whenever she was not eating, sleeping, or spending a bit of time with us… She continued while we were boating down Anduin as well. …I think she is the most frustrated out of all of us as, from what I understand, she has rarely ever been without her magic and never in a time of peril like now."

Legolas hummed, "I suppose it can be likened to my mastery of the bow. But, if my bow was broken, rather than simply get a new one, I must invent an entirely new way to shoot an arrow and master it as well."

Aragorn nodded, "Yes, I think that is a very good way that one might say it."

Gimli looked pensive, "How terrible… I can understand why she took my words to heart, even if I had not meant them for her… I think I shall say as much…after she has calmed a bit. I fear if I go out there now, she might cut me down as Éomer threatened to do!"

Aragorn chuckled along with Legolas at Gimli's jest. His eyes then went back to Branwen and he sighed sadly as she continued to twirl and spin on the grass. A wide swathe of it had been scythed away as she went through her routine.

Finally, Aragorn said to the other two, "In any case, there is nothing that we can do but rest while we may. I will watch for a while now, Gimli. I have more need of thought than of sleep."

Gimli shrugged in acceptance before quickly wrapping himself in blankets to fall asleep. Legolas gave Aragorn an odd look and…maybe a smile that was slightly knowing, before he too returned to sleep.

Aragorn decided to use some of his precious little pipe-weed to smoke a bit as he sat in thought.

҉

Branwen finally felt her frustration had fallen away.

It had taken an hour longer or more, but she felt that she had worked it out through the exertion of her body. She took a moment to See about her and, though there was Shadow on the plain around her, there was none that she could see in Fangorn—only the Wyld heavy upon it. Branwen could see no source of Shadow either.

Returning to the campsite, she found Gimli and Legolas were both sleeping while Aragorn remained up. He was smoking from his pipe in thought but looked at her as she approached. She felt some tension lessen in her as he smiled at her easily.

Branwen sat back down near him and said, "You can get to sleep. I have second watch anyway."

Aragorn replied, "I am not concerned of that at the moment… I needed some time to turn over the matter of the Hobbits in my mind and list the sections that must be searched come the morning. I also am thinking of our journey to Meduseld and that we soon go to war."

A journey that would have been made much easier with horses. Aragorn seemed to know her thoughts though as he said, "It was not your fault with the horses."

Branwen looked at him and snorted, "Then whose fault was it, Estel?"

Aragorn replied, "None, but Saruman. In any case, Legolas had pointed out to Gimli how his words might have been construed and Gimli had been ignorant that he had upset you. He is simply frustrated, but none of us blame you."

She felt her limbs relax as stress began to leave her body. They did not blame her… Sure, she blamed herself, but she was used to blaming herself. It was different when others did so…other she cared for did so.

Aragorn continued, "He plans to apologize to you in the morning. He said he would have gone to speak with you but worried you might have carried out Éomer's threat and taken his head off."

Branwen chuckled even as she tried not to. Aragorn smiled, "There you are! Your smile and laughter eases a great many burdens!"

Branwen felt her cheeks flush. Having that come from Aragorn felt special… Her thoughts then turned to Arwen, as they always did in these moments, and wondered what was wrong with her. Was it so terrible she hoped that this Quest might last for a while longer, if only so she could continue to pretend?

Aragorn then asked, "I am curious, why did you give your circlet to Éomer? I heard some bits and pieces while we were riding, but I was focusing on the trail."

Branwen pursed her lips in thought, "Well, I could See from his thoughts that he is a good and honorable man. Though he spoke of it, he sincerely downplayed how worried he was of Théoden's reaction when he returns and reports not only that he let us go but that he loaned us horses. He was not exaggerating when he said he may likely be putting his life at risk…

I had hoped that the circlet might incline Théoden to spare him. Even if Théoden should take the circlet himself, I doubt he would sell it as it is quite valuable. If that happens, when we arrive, if Théoden values his honor, I will receive it back… Foolish, I know, but I would not wish for a good man to die for a silly reason… There are not a great many Men in the world with such stout hearts and good spirits. I think I might have seen that in Boromir if the Ring had not influenced him so…"

Aragorn was looking at her now with an unreadable expression and Branwen was tempted to See into his mind. Of course, she refrained, as that was a breach of trust that she had never abided by for those she cared for, specifically to avoid allowing herself to do so regularly. It was another one of her golden rules she used to check herself and avoid becoming like Dumbledore…or Snape.

Aragorn asked, "I am unsure if this is my place…but did you…care for Boromir?"

It took her a moment to understand what he was asking before she immediately shook her head, "No! We got off to a horrible start and, frankly, he reminded me sharply of a rival that I had had that eventually became an enemy of mine. I do think I likely judged him too harshly and focused more on the Ring than who he had been as a person, but no…I did not care for him in that fashion. What made you ask that?"

Aragorn turned back to the fire, "His…confession had caught me by surprise, I suppose. You seemed to take his death rather hard and then sung such a powerful part of his lamentation… And now you have entrusted a great treasure to man because he reminds you of Boromir."

Branwen let out a humorless chuckle, "I took Boromir's death hard because I felt useless. My new father is a master of healing…and I did not bother to learn at all before departing Imladris, because I was so enraptured with Arwen and feeling welcomed by family. Even if I had had my staff, I could not have mended him. I know that but it still stings.

As for the lamentation…it felt right. I know that my mourning is for the loss of a comrade rather than a friend, but I have only heard good of him, despite the Ring's influence, and it sounds that he will be dearly missed by his people.

Éomer only reminds me of Boromir in the…loosest sense. From what I glimpsed, he is a man of title and privilege, but he is a good one who is willing to listen and learn. A better way to put it, I suppose, is that he would be Boromir if Boromir had been less headstrong and willing to heed to counsel… Thinking of it like that, maybe Éomer is less like Boromir and more like what I imagine you were as a younger warrior."

Aragorn smoked on his pipe for a little bit longer before he nodded, "I understand… My apologies. I should not have pried."

Branwen let out a soft bark of amusement, "Estel, besides Arwen, I don't think there is anyone else who would even think to ask… You're my friend and friends speak candidly with one another."

Though not too candidly in her case, as treacherous as her heart was. Aragorn smiled at her words and replied, "Thank you. You are my friend as well… And we have a long road yet to go. We must rely on each other as we can."

Branwen felt those obnoxious butterflies again but ignored them before she teasingly ordered him, "Well, off to bed, friend Aragorn! You have the last watch and need sleep."

He snorted and nodded, "Yes, very well. Good night, Branwen."

"Good night."

҉

The Third Age – March 1st, 3019

Branwen was only mildly disappointed the next morning at dawn to find that the horses had not returned after she had gone to bed after rousing Legolas. She had hoped, but not expected them to come back. The cold had come in during the night and there was a hint of frost on the grass around them. Gimli had apologized to her shortly after waking and explained their miscommunication. Branwen had accepted readily and apologized for her own temper and all was set back right. She should have known if the Dwarf meant to imply something, he was hardly the one to hide it behind vague words.

As if to prove her point of him wearing his thoughts openly, Gimli was even now running in place and rubbing his hands together, "My very bones are chilled!"

After a breakfast of lembas to refresh and revitalize them, they were ready to being searching for traces of the hobbits. Gimli had taken it upon himself to look for any signs of Saruman and declared, "Not even a boot print! Are we sure he was even here last night and it was not simply his phantom?"

Branwen replied, "If it was a phantom, it was the most realistic I have ever Seen… I am not an expert on the obscure magics though, so I suppose it could be possible."

Legolas said, "A heavy boot might leave no print here—the grass is deep and springy."

Gimli tugged at his beard, "That would not baffle a Ranger! A bent blade is enough for Aragorn to read. I think it was some apparition he sent upon us through his Shadow that Branwen Sees on the plains. I am sure he is looking out on us from Fangorn even now, maybe!"

Branwen answered, "If he is, it is at a great distance. His Shadow makes him too obvious here under the eaves of Fangorn where the Wyld does not abide it."

Aragorn hummed, "What I am curious of is the horses… We thought them scared away, but I am not so sure now. Did you hear them, Legolas? Did they sound like beasts in terror?"

Legolas shook his head, "No, I heard them clearly. But for the darkness and our own fear of Saruman, I should have guessed that they were beasts wild with some sudden gladness. They sounded as horses will when they meet a friend that they have long missed."

Branwen thought back. Saruman had not commanded the horses to flee, he had only broken her command to come back. And the horses, as they ran away, had sounded rather…carefree.

Aragorn nodded, "So I thought, but I cannot read the riddle, unless they return. Come! The light is growing fast. Let us look first and guess later! We should begin here, near to our own camping-ground, searching carefully all about, and working up the slope towards the forest.

To find the hobbits is our errand, regardless of Saruman or his phantom that had come in the night. If they escaped by some chance, then they must have hidden in the trees or they would have been seen. If we find nothing between here and the forest proper, then we will make a last search upon the battlefield and among the ashes. But there is little hope there—the horsemen of Rohan did their work too well."

Though Branwen felt her own searching was rather useless considering her lack of experience with tracking, she still wound her way slowly around their campsite and circled outwards toward the riverbank.

It was a little while later when she heard Aragorn's call and it seemed to be excited. Branwen ran straight toward the slope next to the mound where the skirmish had taken place just as Legolas and Gimli arrived. Aragorn lifted up a broken Mallorn leaf from the grass and Branwen felt hope come back to her chest. Orcs would not have been able to stomach the Mallorn leaf or lembas that likely had been within it.

Aragorn exclaimed, "Here at last we find news! Here is a Mallorn-leaf of Lórien and there are small crumbs on it and a few more crumbs in the grass. And see! There are some pieces of cut cord lying nearby!"

Gimli then reached down and pulled a curved and broken dagger from the ground. It was a rather macabre thing with the handle shaped like a disfigured head with a gaping mouth. The Dwarf declared, "And here is the knife that cut them! It was an Orc-weapon."

Legolas said, "Well, here is the strangest riddle that we have yet found! A bound prisoner escapes both from Orcs and from the surrounding horsemen. He then stops, while still in the open, and cuts his bonds with an Orc-knife. But how and why? For if his legs were tied, how did he walk? And if his arms were tied, how did he use the knife? And if neither were tied, why did he cut the cords at all?

Being pleased with his skill, he then sat down and quietly ate some waybread! That at least is enough to show that he was a Hobbit, without the Mallorn-leaf. After that, I suppose, he turned his arms into wings and flew away singing into the trees. It should be easy to find him—we only need wings ourselves!"

Branwen could not help but laugh as Legolas had deciphered a Hobbit's natural predilection towards food, drink, and self-satisfaction so very easily. This though, was a sign that she could truly hope that at least one of them had escaped.

Gimli did not look entertained though and asked, "What have you to say, Aragorn, to the reading of Legolas. Can you better it?"

Aragorn was smiling with amusement as he replied, "Maybe I could. There are some other signs near at hand that you have not considered. I agree that the prisoner was a Hobbit and must have had either legs or hands free before he came here. I believe that it was hands, because the riddle then becomes easier, and also because, as I read the marks, he was carried to this point by an Orc."

The Ranger pointed, "Blood was spilled there, a few paces away—Orc-blood. There are deep prints of hooves all about this spot and signs that a heavy thing was dragged away—the Orc was slain by horsemen and later his body hauled to the fire. But the Hobbit was not seen—he was not 'in the open', for it was night and he still had his Elven-cloak.

He was exhausted and hungry, and it is not to be wondered at that, when he had cut his bond with the knife of his fallen enemy, he rested and ate a little before he crept away. But it is a comfort to know that he had some lembas in his pocket, even though he ran away without gear or pack—that, perhaps, is like a Hobbit. I say 'he', though I hope and believe that both Merry and Pippin were her together. There is, however, nothing to show that for certain."

Branwen could only marvel at Aragorn's skill of tracking. That he could surmise all that from marks in the dirt and grass was simply incredible. Maybe she would ask for him to teach her someday if they both made it out of this alive? …If he made it out of this alive.

Gimli asked, "And how do you suppose that either of our friends came to have a hand free?"

Aragorn scratched at his short beard, "I do not know how it happened. Nor do I know why an Orc was carrying them away. Not to help them escape, we may be sure. No, rather I think that I now begin to understand a matter that has puzzled from the beginning—why when Boromir had fallen were the Orcs content with the capture of Merry and Pippin?"

Branwen had thought that was plain. They had hoped to secure the Ring, by Saruman's orders… But then why would the Orcs need them alive for that? They could have killed the Hobbits and stripped their bodies or even just killed them and took the bodies. She had believed that as fact rather than try and verify it… Her old auror instructors would have tongue lashed for that stupid assumption.

She listened as Aragorn shared his thoughts, "The Orcs did not seek out the rest of us, nor attack our camp. Instead, they went with all speed towards Isengard. Did they suppose they had captured the Ringer-bearer and his faithful comrade? I think not. Their masters would not dare give such plain orders to Orcs, even if they knew so much themselves. They would not speak openly to the Orcs of the Ring—they are not trusty servants. But I think the Orcs had been commanded to capture Hobbits, alive, at all costs."

Branwen nodded her head along as he said that. That made a great deal more sense than the rubbish she had allowed herself to think. The Ranger continued, "An attempt was made to slip out with the precious prisoners before the battle. Treachery, perhaps. Likely enough with such folk—some large and bold Orc may have been trying to escape with the prize alone for his own ends. There, that is my tale.

Others might be devised, but on this we may count in any case—one, at least, of our friends escaped. It is our task to find him and help him before we return to Rohan. We must not be daunted by Fangorn since need drove him into that dark place."

Gimli groaned, "I do not know which daunts me more—Fangorn or the thought of the long road through Rohan on foot."

Branwen chuckled, "As long as we don't have to run the whole way, I think I shall be happy."

Aragorn nodded in agreement, "Well, let us go to the forest."

They began to walk, Aragorn leading, towards the forest proper and toward the riverbank. It was only a short while later that the Ranger spotted some more signs of a Hobbit that had come near the river and then more footprints later near a massive tree on the edge of Fangorn.

Aragorn kneeled and said, "One Hobbit, at least, stood here for a while and looked back. Then he turned away into the forest."

Gimli sighed, "Then we must go in too. But I do not like the look of this Fangorn; especially after Branwen shared her thoughts of it last night."

Legolas said, "I do not think the wood feels evil, whatever the tales may say."

Branwen replied, "It is not evil, it is untamed. It is the essence of Wilderness and we will not find welcome within it…but that does not mean that we shall find Death, so long as we are respectful."

Legolas hummed, "There does feel to be a touch of malice…but that is far away. I catch only the faintest echoes of dark places where the hearts of the trees are black. There is no malice near us though—but they are watchful…and some anger, as Branwen said last night."

Gimli harrumphed, the Dwarf likely finding the more esoteric aspects of Wyld magic outside of his comfort, and said, "Well, it has no cause to be angry with me! I have done it no harm."

Legolas chuckled, "That is just as well… But nonetheless, it has suffered harm. There is something happening inside…or going to happen. Do you feel the tenseness? It takes my breath."

Branwen opened her Sight fully and…she did See that the Wyld seemed to be twisting away toward the center of the wood and it did feel…like righteous anger. Something was rousing in Fangorn. She nodded, "Yes, I do feel it."

Gimli frowned, "I feel the air stuffy. This wood is lighter than Mirkwood, but it is musty and shabby."

Legolas replied, "It is old; very old. So old that almost I feel young again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children. It is old and full of memory. I could have been happy here, if I had come in days of peace."

Gimli snorted, "I dare say you could. You are a Wood-Elf, anyway, though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Even Branwen is! Though she was not born an Elf. Yet, you both comfort me. Where you go, I will go. But keep bow and sword ready and I will keep my axe loose in my belt."

He seemed to realize how the last line might be construed and said quickly to the forest, "Not for use on trees! I do not wish to meet Saruman unawares without an argument ready to hand, that is all. Let us go!"

Branwen chuckled as Aragorn's own lips were curled with some amusement. With a turn, their leader walked into the true forest.

As Gimli has said, the forest was 'shabby' in a sense. These were all old-growth trees—gnarled, tall, grasping, still covered in brown leaves of yesteryear, and near blanketed with moss and lichen. The branches above shaded the forest floor in a deep twilight despite the sun rising in the Eastern sky. Walking through them felt closer to wandering through endless twisting corridors with innumerable living pillars. Only the river allowed Branwen to keep herself oriented.

There seemed to be no animal life within this forest and all she could see were trees. That seemed odd…but then again, if the trees here were awake and alive, they likely did not approve of creatures feasting their leaves and bark. It explained why the undergrowth and debris of fallen leaves were so thick on the forest floor. Once spring properly began and then again in autumn, she imagined that mushrooms grew in here like wildflowers.

Eventually, they came to a spot on the riverbank where Aragorn found more signs. He reported, "There are…two sets footprints here—one smaller and one larger! Merry and Pippin both escaped!"

Branwen felt a wave of relief come over her. Finally! Some good news! Legolas and Gimli both issued happy sounds.

Aragorn nodded, "This is good tidings. Yet, the marks are two days old. And it seems that, at this point, the Hobbits left the waterside."

Gimli asked, "Then what shall we do now? We cannot pursue them through the whole vastness of Fangorn. We have come ill supplied. If we do not find them soon, we shall be of no use to them, except to sit down beside them and show our friendship by starving together."

Branwen replied, "I have a good supply of lembas in my enchanted bag. We have no fear of starving anytime soon as long as we ration, Master Dwarf."

Aragorn nodded, "Then let us go on."

They followed the minute signs of the Hobbits' passing and found the ground rising upward and growing rockier. They came out into the sunlight at the base of a short cliff that was the side of a treeless hill. The trees here, closest to the sunlight, appeared younger as well…or healthier would be a better term.

In the stone cliff, there was almost a natural looking staircase, but as if made for giants, that led to the hilltop that sat up against an even taller stone bluff. The hilltop appeared just higher than the treetops themselves.

Legolas urged, "Let us go up and look about us! I still feel my breath short. I should like to taste a freer air for a while."

Aragorn examined the steps up and said, "I am almost sure that the Hobbits have been up here… But there are other marks, which I do not understand. I wonder if we can see anything from this ledge which will help us to guess which way they went next?"

They climbed up and found the ledge of the hill looked South and East, but only the Eastward direction was clear and open. Branwen Saw that the Wyld of Fangorn seemed to be flowing…Westward, towards the base of the mountain. It certainly did look agitated, like a flood in reverse going to a singular point rather than spreading outward in all directions.

As she observed that, Legolas remarked, "We have journeyed a long way around. We could have all come here safe together, if we had left the Great River on the second or third day and struck West. Few can foresee where their road will lead them, until they come to its end."

Gimli remarked, "But we did not wish to come to Fangorn."

Legolas leaned forward, his voice suddenly stern, "Yet, here we are…and nicely caught in the net. Look!"

Branwen turned to look at Legolas' beckoning as Gimli asked, "Look at what?"

Branwen could admit she was having trouble discerning what Legolas was seeing either. The Elf said, "There! In the trees!"

Branwen saw a flicker of movement…and something familiar. Aragorn now stood beside her, trying to see as well, even as Gimli huffed, "Where!? I have not Elf-eyes!"

Legolas crouched down and ordered with an urgent whisper, "Down! And hush! Speak more softly! Look! Down in the wood, back in the way that we have just come. It is Saruman, I think. Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?"

Branwen then Saw him just as Gimli growled, "I see. I see him now! Look, Aragorn! There he is—all in dirty grey rags so that we could not spot him."

Together, they drew their weapons as Legolas nocked an arrow. Branwen felt confused though. There was no Shadow that she could see, in fact, what was familiar was that it appeared almost like there was a…Shroud about him, like her Veil. The Wyld was also not agitated by his presence as it had. In fact, it appeared welcoming.

He was stooped and bent like he was last night, but his staff was different, and he gave no indication that he saw them. Branwen spoke quietly, "I…don't know if that is Saruman… He is missing his Shadow and, last night, the trees were unhappy with him. Today, the Wyld of Fangorn is welcoming to him… He seems to have magic like my Veil as well, and if he had that, I imagine he would have used it last night…I would think… I'm unsure now."

Aragorn asked, "What shall we do then?"

Legolas and Gimli looked at her expectantly. Branwen frowned, "…Wait for a moment, maybe? There are other Wizards than Gandalf and Saruman. Is this Radagast the Brown that we have heard of, perhaps?"

That seemed to pause them and Aragorn hummed, "…Yes, let us wait and for a moment. Gandalf had said that Radagast was still true."

The old vagrant then began to walk faster and came out of the trees at the base of the rock wall and the stairs. He wore a tall wide-brimmed hat, just as Saruman had last night, in addition to his large grey cloak. He seemed to peer up at them, but the shadow of the brim and his Shroud made it very difficult for Branwen to discern anything except he had a grey beard and a longer nose.

He seemed unconcerned with their drawn weapons and said, in a soft and almost friendly voice, "Well met indeed, my friends. I wish to speak to you. Will you come down or shall I come up?"

The Wizard did not wait for an answer and began to climb. As he mounted that first tall step, his cloak slipped a bit and there was a flash of white. In the Unseen, Branwen Saw a glimpse of heat and light and goodness and she Saw through the Shroud for an instant to dark eyes that looked like coals ready to set ablaze.

She knew the Sight of that magic, though it was far more powerful and pure than it had last been.

In a daze, her sword fell to her side and she walked down to meet him. Aragorn attempted to grab her when he noticed, but she had already stepped out of range. He called urgently with concern, "Branwen!"

Behind her, she heard the sound of Legolas' bowstring pulled taut and the Wizard said, "Put away that bow, Master Elf! And you, Master Dwarf, Master Ranger, away with your hands from your hilts and hafts! You will not need such arguments."

She finally came just a few feet short of him. Though his Shroud made it near impossible to See through to his face with Sight or mundane eyes, Branwen recognized the wells of wisdom that glimmered with just a hint of mischief and temper.

He then asked her, "Well met, I say again! And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, a Dwarf, and a Half-Elven all clad in Elvish fashion. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here. And is there something you wish to say, my dear, or shall you stare at me all day? I assure you, I am quite old and one old man is as similar as the next!"

Branwen asked, "…Gandalf?"

He then removed his wide-brimmed hat, showing hair nearly whiter than snow, and dark eyes that seemed clearer than they had ever been before. Part of his Shroud had fallen and his Power seemed far greater than she had ever Seen it before.

He chuckled, "Well met, I say to you again, Branwen. Gandalf… Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf."

Branwen felt tears begin to stream down her face and he reached forward to wipe one away. Gandalf said, "Do not cry, my dear! For we have much work to do!"