Anoniel held her friend's hand tightly, and looked into her eyes earnestly. 'Mithmír, my friend, why must you go? You are happy here, are you not?' She looked faintly sad.
The human woman, who appeared to be maybe only in her early twenties, looked wistfully at the elf. Her dark eyes brimmed with regret. 'I cannot stay here, Anoniel. You know as well as anyone just how much wanderlust is in me.' She shrugged her shoulders and took a step back, looking up at the stars. 'There are things happening in Middle Earth, Anoniel, terrible things. You know of them, do not hide from me. But you… elves have much more time than us mortals. You do not need to worry yourself in these affairs, not much. But I…' she paused, searching for words. 'I want to make a difference in the short time I have here. I have to go, friend. I will make for Lothlorien. Apparently, Elrond says, whoever shall be our saviour shall pass that way on their quest…' She paused a little. 'Maybe I will meet them. Who knows, maybe Aragorn himself shall be there.' She smiled, looking back at the elf-maiden. 'He's like an uncle to me. I haven't seen him for a long while, it would be good to meet, and remember old times. Though doubtless,' and she laughed out loud, 'he has some embarrassing stories about me he shall tell everyone in range of his voice!'
Anoniel finally nodded. 'Very well,' she said quietly, and then laughed prettily. 'Just when I thought I was beginning to understand a human, yourself, you go and do something like this and confuse me again! But I see why you want to go, at least in theory. And remember, Mithmír, Rivendell is always open to you.'
'I know,' smiled the human. 'This is my home, Anoniel. My mother is here.' Mithmír's mother was an elf, her father a Ranger of the North, a descendent of the Númenórean race. She was half-elven, mostly elf-like in looks but her mind was greatly like that of a human, as shown by her streak of independence and rashness. 'I will leave tomorrow, Anoniel,' she embraced her friend. 'Before any of you are awake. I don't want a leaving party, or unnecessary questions. Imagine Elrond's response to hearing I wanted to save Middle Earth!' She laughed. 'And as for my mother… She never could understand the human side of me.' She shrugged, not sadly, but resignedly. 'Let's go eat, Anoniel. I need a good last dinner. And then I have to make an excuse to get some lembas for my journey…'
It was still dark when she mounted her horse and moved out of the happy valley of Rivendell. She did not look back.
For all that Mithmír was used to travelling, this journey was a hard and long one. Her horse, Brialvastor, was of elven stock, and hardy but speedy. They made good time together, and to any they passed they appeared but as a dark shadow racing through the shadows beneath the trees. All along her lonely road she saw signs of the devastation that was occurring all over Middle Earth: singed trees, crumbling remains of homes long forsaken, great blackened pits in the earth. She once passed a horse-skeleton, and she had little doubt as to the ultimate fate of the luckless rider. She would have stopped to search for the body, to give it a proper burial, but time was short, she felt, and she moved on.
She stopped only for five or six hours a night, and ate sparingly of her lembas; normally eating only the rabbits or small birds she caught during the day. She was never lonely. She felt she never could be, when all the wonders of Elbereth around her. The very trees and plants, the sun itself, and the small animals of the woods fascinated her during the day; and at night the stars, the elen, watched over her sleep. For the first part of her journey, at least, no evil things harmed her; though her heart was oft uneasy at the thought of orcs and goblins such as were meant to be spawned in the mountains and wander here. They were definitely about; but as of yet she was of no consequence in the devices of Sauron; and as he gave no orders commanding her death, the foul creatures of darkness avoided her and her flashing, deadly blades.
It was her passage over the Pass of Caradhras which amazed her most. Her last journey over the snow-bound, desolate mountain had been nearly six years before; and she had forgotten the full splendour of the crags, gullies and precipices. One night she watched the snow-giants hurling boulders at each other over the valleys; she was rapt for the entire dark hours and moved out later than she had meant to. Two or three times an eagle circled over head, moving fast across the sky. She wondered at the size and magnificence of the birds so rarely seen; and also pondered on why they might be flying in such numbers. Surely it was significant, her mind told her, but she could think of no reason to explain their presence; and so – for the time – left it at that.
It was on the twentieth day after her departure from Rivendell that she reached the bottom of the Dirmrill Stair, and so saw the placid, glass-like surface of the Mirrormere before her at last. She left Brialvastor to graze while she stripped down and washed in the freezing water. She wanted to reach Lothlorien looking her best. She dried herself on the woollen blanket she normally slept on, and then changed to her 'neat' clothes: the long, white robes and silver circlet that she had inherited from her mother. She rode slower then, and kept her eyes more open: a white rider on a dusk-coloured horse was easily spotted; and she liked not the stories of roaming orcs that she had heard. To keep her mind from the horrors of Sauron, she sang the elven lay of Lúthien and Beren, one of her favourites. It kept her well occupied as the miles disappeared under the steady motion of Brialvastor's mighty hooves, and the dark line of trees that was the Golden Wood drew ever closer.
