A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I know people are reading because of the hit counter, but I'd love to hear from more of you. I'm still looking for ideas on how to modify the summary to make the story more appealing, and I'd welcome any advice. Enjoy!
Chapter 4
The next few days passed in a flurry of housekeeping. Éowyn worked late into the night organizing the camp in Dunharrow, and in the chaos, Rian frequently worked through the night. Anyone who would have noticed was busy with other things, so she was able to help with anything that needed to be done. She tried to keep a low profile, but, along with Éowyn and several of the stronger young women, often helped with the heaviest of tasks—putting up tents, hauling water, and moving heavy luggage. The only men there were old, and despite their attempts to help, the women were usually able to do the tasks more quickly without them. Just like the trip there, there were occasional bumps and bruises, and even a few more serious injuries. One young woman sprained an ankle and another broke her arm, but besides that, the injuries were minor.
After several days, the routine changed yet again. Most everyone had lost track of the days, but the camp was finally almost in order. The change in routine was due to new arrivals. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli arrived accompanied by a party of Dúnedain. Rian was still helping to tend bumps and bruises from the process of setting up camp, and she stayed out of the way during supper. Later that night, she turned a corner to catch a glimpse of Aragorn talking to Éowyn. Éowyn looked upset, but turned and walked off into the night.
Hesitantly, Rian walked over to where he was standing. "Aragorn?"
"Lady Elewen, it is good to see you again."
"I've told you before not to call me lady." A memory of a twelve-year old boy trying to not call her 'lady' during sword practice came to mind. She struggled not to smile at the memory.
"I know." Aragorn nodded.
"I hope there is no trouble," she said, glancing in the direction Éowyn had taken.
"Éowyn seeks what she cannot have." Rian nodded. She needed no more explanation. She'd seen the looks Éowyn had given him when he'd first arrived.
"It is good to see you grown into a man. You were no taller than my shoulder when I last saw you." Rian changed the subject. It was none of her business, anyway.
"And you are shorter than you were then."
"It is part of the illusion. The Rohirrim would wonder if I stood shoulder to shoulder with Éomer."
Aragorn chuckled. "I suppose they would. I hope now I would prove a better swordsman than I did then."
"You learned well enough for a boy. I wielded a sword long before Elrond was even born. I hope my teaching, combined with others, was enough for you…" She trailed off, then continued. "This is the end, isn't it? This war will determine the fate of Middle Earth."
"Yes. I fear for Minas Tirith. It may yet fall, yet the ultimate outcome of the war rests on the Ringbearer."
Rian sighed. "I feared as much. I have fought Sauron and Morgoth before him for many years by healing and spreading light where I could. It seems that the time for that has passed. This is a time for a sword." Aragorn nodded, and she continued. "You plan to take the Paths of the Dead." It was a statement, not a question, but Aragorn nodded in confirmation. "Let me come with you."
"I have already denied Éowyn that request."
"She is bound to these people. I am not, nor do I fear the ghosts of Men."
"What of your students?"
"They no
longer need me. There comes a point
when the student must start doing rather than listening. The Rohirrim will support them even without
me."
"If that is your choice, I
will be glad to have you at my side. I
have no question that you understand what you are undertaking, so I will not
insult you by asking."
"Thank you. If this truly is the end, and I believe it is, then I don't want to sit by while it happens without lifting a finger."
"Nor would I expect it of you. We'll leave first thing in the morning."
"I'll need a horse. The one we have is not fit for war, and I want to leave him with the girls, anyway."
"I'll see to it. You may need to ride with one of us."
"That isn't a problem."
"Very well. I will see you in the morning. Good night, Elewen."
Rian turned into the night, slipping silently back to her tent. She had planned to speak to Aragorn and to travel with him from the time he entered camp, but it would be hard to make her students understand. She had left Valinor in pursuit of Morgoth, and he was chained, unable to meddle with Middle Earth, but Sauron remained. Elewen had left Valinor primarily because she was loathe to stay behind and leave Galadriel alone, but she could not blame her fate only on that, nor did she try. She, too, had been convinced by Fëanor's high-sounding speeches, which were really echoes of Morgoth's lies, though none then had realized it. If only…she abruptly shut her mind against the dark memories.
Rian entered her tent to find the girls sitting up, giggling over Legolas. She sighed, but didn't say anything. She didn't need to, either. They knew she was exasperated. She sat down slowly and looked at them. "Do you understand why they are here?" She didn't need to explain who she meant by them.
"They wouldn't tell anyone."
"Not their exact destination, but their purpose is clear. They are here for war. War is a cruel thing. I hope you never see it."
"You haven't, either, have you? There hasn't been any war in Rohan since long before you were born—at least not one desperate enough to involve the women."
"It has been far longer since I was born than you realize. I have seen far too much war." Without giving them a chance to ask what she meant, she continued, "They will be leaving in the morning, and I intend to go with them."
"What?"
Both girls stared at her, speechless for a minute, then Christa found her voice, "You don't know how to fight, Rian. What would you do in a war?"
"I've always told you not to assume things you don't know for certain." Rian got to her feet and walked over to her bundle of possessions. She pulled out the long bundle that hid her sword. "I don't carry a sword simply to scare people away."
"Protecting yourself from thieves isn't the same as fighting in a war!" The only time they had ever seen her with a sword had been when she scared off thieves or meddlers when they were gathering herbs in the woods, and she'd never had to use the sword she carried. Only a few times had she needed more than to simply carry it, and they had been while she was alone. Children's rhymes chanted in Sindarin were surprisingly effective at scaring drunken Men off.
"Again, I'll ask you not to assume what you don't know for certain." Rian untied the clothes from around the sword.
"Isn't that your sword over there?" Elena pointed toward the sword in the opposite corner.
"It was, but it's yours now. Ask Éowyn to teach you to use it." Rian finally withdrew the sword in its jeweled scabbard, setting aside the bow, quiver of arrows, and long knife that she'd packed with it. Both girls gasped. They had never seen such finery. Rian held it up so they could see the flowing inscription along the length of the blade.
"The likes of this has never been made in Middle Earth. This was made for me in Valinor in ages long before your comprehension." She glanced down, and her features seemed to shift. Her hair went from gray to raven, the lines disappeared, and her features took on a nobility only found in the Eldar*. The girls just gaped.
"I am an Elf. I have simply disguised myself as human. I have spent much of my life teaching many people like you to heal, but the time has come for me to leave here. You've learned everything I can teach you, and it's time for me to fulfill an old debt."
"Elf? Debt?" Elena was the first to find her voice.
"You've had enough time to gawk at Legolas—you don't need to stare at me like I've sprouted wings." Softening her tone, she sighed and sat down, sheathing the sword. "None of your people remember back so far, but I will tell you the sad story of the First Age and the downfall of the Noldor, my people. When the Elves first awakened, there was no sun or moon. The only light came from the stars. The Valar soon came to us and took us to Valinor. During those blessed days, Valinor was lit by two Trees that glowed with light higher and more pure than such as the sun or moon offer." She sighed wistfully before continuing. "My people had a love of fine crafts. We made jewels beyond your imagining." She ran her finger along the jewels on the scabbard and hilt of her sword. "These are only a hint of what we had there. Our ultimate creation was the Silmarils, jewels of unparalleled beauty. In them, we captured the light of the Trees.
"Morgoth, the evil one, of whom Sauron is only a shadow, envied the light of Valinor. He came to Valinor, killed the Trees, and stole the Silmarils. The Valar chased him, but soon turned back. Fëanor, who created the Silmarils, urged us to chase after him, and soon anger ruled out over reason. Fëanor and his family took a vow to regain the jewels at any cost, and the doom of that vow found us ere we ever left Valinor. In our haste to return to Middle Earth, we killed our own kin to secure the boats we needed. That, above all, is the reason the Noldor were banned from returning to Valinor. The rest of the story is simply one war after another, with nothing gained and the Silmarils lost forever. In the end, Morgoth was chained and we were forgiven, but some of us stayed in Middle Earth to continue to fight Sauron and his minions. So, you see, I know war. I am weary of it, but this is a war that must be fought, and I am still an Elven warrior."
The girls gaped at her. They probably hadn't comprehended most of the story, but the point was made. She was an Elf, and her place was in the war, not waiting behind. Christa had an excellent memory, and she would remember the words until she could make sense of them at another time.
Sighing, Elewen let her thoughts wander to the morning. The girls didn't know that they were taking the Paths of the Dead, and when they learned, they would think she was committing suicide, and there wouldn't be time to explain tomorrow. "There is one other thing you need to know. We are going to take the Paths of the Dead." She continued on before the girls could protest. "It is not a death errand as some think it is. I will not die from that journey. The ghosts of Men have no power to harm me."
"What will we do without you?" Elena asked.
"I think you'll find the Rohirrim more supportive of you than you expect. They've never really helped us, but we haven't needed it." The people paid them as they could, often with wool, vegetables, or sometimes chickens. Whenever they had been short on food, Rian had gone hunting. The lack of support was not from apathy, but simply because they hadn't needed it. "There's no reason you can't survive without me. You already know everything I can teach you. Even if not for the war, it would be time for me to move on. Trust yourselves."
Letting the girls ponder that, Elewen turned back to her things, finding some traveling clothes. As in days of old, she didn't even bother with a split skirt. This was a tunic with pants. She left them ready for the morning. She also found a small pack. In it, she placed a few healing herbs, some lembas from the last time she'd visited Lothlórien, and a water skin. She also laid out the light armor she had received from Thingol in Doriath**—a mithril shirt that she'd wear under her clothes. In this age, it was probably worth a king's ransom, but she had no desire to sell it. Once her things were ready, Elewen slipped back out of the tent, giving the girls space to think about what she'd told them.
* Eldar: Elves
** More background will come on this in later chapters. Doriath was an Elven kingdom in the First Age, and Thingol was its king. It was destroyed during the First Age.