The Gondorian soldiers drove the orcs back beyond the Grey Mountains, back
to Mordor. Everyone cheered in victory. Anarrima was exhausted and her leg
ached terribly. Her daggers were stained black and all her arrows were
gone. She was battered and bruised but most importantly, she was alive.
Gathering herself she went to find the other Rangers, grieved when she came upon one lying among the dead. Near the gates of the city she found Theodred talking with Aragorn and Faramir, captain of Gondor. Grasping Aragorn by the shoulder she gave a small smile.
"Always one for a grand entrance?" Anarrima jested. Going to Theodred she clasped him on the shoulder, grateful he survived the battle.
Looking down at Annarima's leg Theodred noticed the blood stains on her leggings. "What happened?"
"Just a little mishap with an orc arrow. Nothing more," she answered quickly. She hated it when others were so concerned with small, insignificant battle wounds.
"Just to be safe you should go get it wrapped." Theodred said.
"I will be fine!" Annarima interjected. She was an elf, she didn't need the care of humans to help her heal.
"We will not be on our way until you do," Aragorn added firmly. He knew that Mordor orcs poisoned their weapons; poison that could easily kill even one of the elfkind.
After a sharp look at Aragorn she turned and left for the healer of the Osgiliath. Walking through the city she observed all the women and children who were returning to their homes. They looked so helpless and so afraid. In front of the healer's room she was stopped by a woman and her child. They were dirty and ragged, much like herself, but they were smiling. The woman took Anarrima's hand and kissed it.
"Bless you, milady. Bless the elves and the Dunedain," the woman cried as she held Anarrima's hand still.
Anarrima was speechless. Her actions were never acknowledged like this. She never thought of the people she was protecting and fighting for. Simply enough, she was touched. Finding her voice she smiled, her silver eyes showing all the true wisdom of the Eldar.
"May Eru bless you and your family."
The woman smiled again and went to her home.
After leaving the healer's chamber she headed back to the city gates where the remaining Rangers gathered. Anarrima's led was wrapped with cloth, along with her left shoulder. The burials were to begin. The men of Osgiliath and the Rangers who died in the fight were buried together on a hill outside the city. Anarrima named the hill Amon-Apononar in the Sindarin tongue, Hill of Men in the common tongue. "Hiro hyn hîdh, ab 'wanath." She whispered her prayer to the Valar and sang a lament in remembrance. Then the carcasses of the orcs and goblins were piled up and burned.
For years Anarrima and the other Dunedain traveled the realms of Middle earth. They traveled to Gondor and Lothlorien, Rivendell and even the Shire, realm of the Halflings. Theodred returned to Rohan, to aid the Rohirrim. Anarrima loved all these places, each beautiful in their own unique way. She loved speaking with the hobbits. They were lively and welcomed the Rangers to their land.
One day Aragorn received a message from Rivendell that his presence was requested at a secret council that Elrond Halfelven was holding, a council whose purpose was strictly confidential to those not in attendance. The One Ring had been found by Gandalf the Wizard. After receiving the message he stopped and explained the news to the others.
"Lord Elrond is holding a council representing all the free peoples of Middle earth, and I have been asked to be there. Anarrima, I need you to go to Lothlorien and aid them in any way you can..."
"Why do you send an Avari to do the job of a man?!" Borthan demanded. He still didn't trust Anarrima in the dealings of the Rangers.
Anarrima had enough of this man. She dismounted Dimrost and walked to Borthan, her silver eyes flamed with anger. "And you think you could do any better than I? I have spent years as your companion and you still do not trust me?"
"You are nothing but a woman," Borthan spat.
Anarrima could feel her hand twitch with the urge to end his life with a single stroke from her dagger. Restraining herself she pulled her hood over her head and quickly mounted Dimrost. "When the prophecy comes true we will see who the weaker gender is."* With those words she rode off through the wilds to Lothlorien.
After Anarrima rode off Aragorn gave Borthan a dark look. "The rest of you will go to Gondor. And Borthan," Aragorn said before heading off to Bree, "I would watch my words if I were you." With that he turned and left.
"Legolas," the King said when his son entered the study. "Elrond Halfelven is holding a council in Rivendell and I wanted you to attend. You will leave today if you agree."
"Yes, father," Legolas replied and turned to leave but was stopped by Thranduil's voice.
"He has also requested that one of the Dunedain be in attendance as well."
Legolas stopped dead in his tracks at the news. His hopes rose at the possibility of Anarrima's presence at the council. It had been years since he had heard from her. Thranduil smiled, as he knew exactly what crossed his son's mind. It was the only reason he would send his own son and not someone else.
"Go on son," the King urged and returned to the book he was reading. Legolas left the study, packed his things and readied his horse Glingal. After bidding his father farewell he left Mirkwood for Imladris.
*The prophecy was that a woman would slay the dreaded Witch King, and not a man.
Gathering herself she went to find the other Rangers, grieved when she came upon one lying among the dead. Near the gates of the city she found Theodred talking with Aragorn and Faramir, captain of Gondor. Grasping Aragorn by the shoulder she gave a small smile.
"Always one for a grand entrance?" Anarrima jested. Going to Theodred she clasped him on the shoulder, grateful he survived the battle.
Looking down at Annarima's leg Theodred noticed the blood stains on her leggings. "What happened?"
"Just a little mishap with an orc arrow. Nothing more," she answered quickly. She hated it when others were so concerned with small, insignificant battle wounds.
"Just to be safe you should go get it wrapped." Theodred said.
"I will be fine!" Annarima interjected. She was an elf, she didn't need the care of humans to help her heal.
"We will not be on our way until you do," Aragorn added firmly. He knew that Mordor orcs poisoned their weapons; poison that could easily kill even one of the elfkind.
After a sharp look at Aragorn she turned and left for the healer of the Osgiliath. Walking through the city she observed all the women and children who were returning to their homes. They looked so helpless and so afraid. In front of the healer's room she was stopped by a woman and her child. They were dirty and ragged, much like herself, but they were smiling. The woman took Anarrima's hand and kissed it.
"Bless you, milady. Bless the elves and the Dunedain," the woman cried as she held Anarrima's hand still.
Anarrima was speechless. Her actions were never acknowledged like this. She never thought of the people she was protecting and fighting for. Simply enough, she was touched. Finding her voice she smiled, her silver eyes showing all the true wisdom of the Eldar.
"May Eru bless you and your family."
The woman smiled again and went to her home.
After leaving the healer's chamber she headed back to the city gates where the remaining Rangers gathered. Anarrima's led was wrapped with cloth, along with her left shoulder. The burials were to begin. The men of Osgiliath and the Rangers who died in the fight were buried together on a hill outside the city. Anarrima named the hill Amon-Apononar in the Sindarin tongue, Hill of Men in the common tongue. "Hiro hyn hîdh, ab 'wanath." She whispered her prayer to the Valar and sang a lament in remembrance. Then the carcasses of the orcs and goblins were piled up and burned.
For years Anarrima and the other Dunedain traveled the realms of Middle earth. They traveled to Gondor and Lothlorien, Rivendell and even the Shire, realm of the Halflings. Theodred returned to Rohan, to aid the Rohirrim. Anarrima loved all these places, each beautiful in their own unique way. She loved speaking with the hobbits. They were lively and welcomed the Rangers to their land.
One day Aragorn received a message from Rivendell that his presence was requested at a secret council that Elrond Halfelven was holding, a council whose purpose was strictly confidential to those not in attendance. The One Ring had been found by Gandalf the Wizard. After receiving the message he stopped and explained the news to the others.
"Lord Elrond is holding a council representing all the free peoples of Middle earth, and I have been asked to be there. Anarrima, I need you to go to Lothlorien and aid them in any way you can..."
"Why do you send an Avari to do the job of a man?!" Borthan demanded. He still didn't trust Anarrima in the dealings of the Rangers.
Anarrima had enough of this man. She dismounted Dimrost and walked to Borthan, her silver eyes flamed with anger. "And you think you could do any better than I? I have spent years as your companion and you still do not trust me?"
"You are nothing but a woman," Borthan spat.
Anarrima could feel her hand twitch with the urge to end his life with a single stroke from her dagger. Restraining herself she pulled her hood over her head and quickly mounted Dimrost. "When the prophecy comes true we will see who the weaker gender is."* With those words she rode off through the wilds to Lothlorien.
After Anarrima rode off Aragorn gave Borthan a dark look. "The rest of you will go to Gondor. And Borthan," Aragorn said before heading off to Bree, "I would watch my words if I were you." With that he turned and left.
"Legolas," the King said when his son entered the study. "Elrond Halfelven is holding a council in Rivendell and I wanted you to attend. You will leave today if you agree."
"Yes, father," Legolas replied and turned to leave but was stopped by Thranduil's voice.
"He has also requested that one of the Dunedain be in attendance as well."
Legolas stopped dead in his tracks at the news. His hopes rose at the possibility of Anarrima's presence at the council. It had been years since he had heard from her. Thranduil smiled, as he knew exactly what crossed his son's mind. It was the only reason he would send his own son and not someone else.
"Go on son," the King urged and returned to the book he was reading. Legolas left the study, packed his things and readied his horse Glingal. After bidding his father farewell he left Mirkwood for Imladris.
*The prophecy was that a woman would slay the dreaded Witch King, and not a man.
