A/N: My apologies for making you wait so long! There's a few new and interesting people coming in to play in this half, so I hope you enjoy.

Autumn, 2496 TA

Farothwen and Glorohtar were now approaching the sixth month of their marriage and well and truly settled into The Last Homely House, along with Beleglor, carving out roles for themselves. Beleglor's love of music was too strong, and now he often walked beside Lindir, his hand much preferring the harp to the bowstring, his sweet voice often filling the Hall of Fire at night.

Glorohtar had encouraged Farothwen to finish her weapons training, but she would not. Her torment in the caverns had scarred her in so many ways, and she wished not to be involved in violence, whether she was wielding the sword or not. She also did not wish to sing as she once had, looking for a vocation that she felt would repay the debt for the immense kindness and love the Elves had given her, although many of them insisted several times over that there was no such debt. Celebrían's maidens Rhiwien and Caranlas were teaching her to weave on the massive loom, making beautiful clothes, but she had not yet found her talent.

Glorohtar had chosen to ride out with the hunting parties to hunt deer and boar, plus whatever birds he could find for food for all of Rivendell. This worried Farothwen, as they almost always had to leave the protection of Rivendell's borders, but Glorohtar always assured her that he was safe.

The weather was starting to become crisp and cool, the slight wind shaking the trees' branches enough for beautiful leaves of gold and red to fall. Every season they had spent there, Rivendell looked more and more beautiful. It was quiet for the most part, nothing much happening except the normal comings and goings of the hunting parties, the guards, and messengers from the other Elven realms sending tidings of not much importance to Elrond. Messages flowed freely from the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, as the Lord and Lady, Celeborn and Galadriel, were the parents of Lady Celebrían.

Farothwen awoke to find Glorohtar gone, leaving early for the hunt, which happened every other day. Cloud covered the skies, and it looked as if it would rain. The wind was unusually strong, sweeping leaves around Farothwen, catching her hair and the sleeves of her dress. She felt slightly uneasy about this day, but then she snapped herself out of it. It meant nothing.

She rolled the sleeves of her underdress up and tied them in place. She was wearing a simple dress, as she was working on the loom. She quickly braided her hair off her face as she crossed the courtyard to the hall where the loom was located. Suddenly there came the sounds of horses' hooves, loud, as if there were many. She looked up. About twenty horses were in the courtyard, all carrying riders, some of whom were badly injured. A man looked at Farothwen, panic and blood on his face.

'Quick, lady! Get Lord Elrond!'

Farothwen nodded, and ran to get Elrond who was in his library, not very far away. Farothwen burst in the door, causing him to look up from his parchment.

'Farothwen! What's wrong?'

'There are injured riders here. Hurry!'

He ran after her to the courtyard, where the riders were waiting. There were groans and cries from the injured, while the healthy riders tried to treat them and calm them as best they could.

Elrond looked them over and checked the nearest of the riders, who had been speared. There was a lot of blood, and they needed healing quickly.

'Farothwen! In the healing rooms there is a black pouch on top of the right shelf. Get it, and some blankets, quickly!'

Farothwen ran down to the healing rooms, where all of Elrond's supplies were housed. She grabbed the pouch as he said and a mound of blankets and was met at the top of the stairs by Celebrían and a younger elf named Elenion, who also helped with the healing.

'Come, Farothwen. Elrond and I will care for those who are injured most. You and Elenion will take care of those with lesser wounds.'

'But, Celebrían, I don't know how-'

'Elenion will show you. Come on!'

Celebrían thrust a pouch into her hands that contained bandages and pads. Elenion grabbed her arm and took her over to the lesser injured riders, who had climbed off their horses to care for those who were worse. Elenion started bandaging the riders' relatively superficial wounds, and Farothwen picked up on it quickly, cleaning wounds, applying bandages and calming those who were panicked and in pain.

Farothwen approached the rider who had spoken to her, bleeding from a cut to his head. His brown hair was arrayed about his shoulders, the trail of blood trickling down past his large hazel eyes into his short beard, his brown tunic stained with dark Orc blood. He was bleeding from a small cut in his lip, and his hands were also covered in blood, and he looked weary and dirty from many days' long travel. But he was alert and concerned.

'Hirgon! Hirgon!' he cried as the rider with the spear wound was taken down into Elrond's chambers, along with a few others. Farothwen knelt beside him, dipping a pad in a bowl of water and gently wiping the dry blood from his face.

'Rest now, your friend is safe,' she told him. 'Lord Elrond will take care of him.'

He sighed. 'I do not deny Lord Elrond's skills, but only Hirgon's strength.'

'Do not worry. Lord Elrond has the power to heal those who do not have any strength left.'

'I hope so.' The man looked hard at Farothwen. 'You are no Elf?'

Farothwen smiled. 'No. I am a Dúnadan, and I reside here by Lord Elrond's generosity.'

'I am a Dúnadan also, and yet I have never seen you before. Who are you?'

'My name is Farothwen.' She started clumsily wrapping a bandage around the man's head. 'I was not brought up among you. In fact, you are the first one of my kind I have spoken to.'

'Why have you not been here among us, your kin? Surely you have tried to seek us out?'

Farothwen fell silent when she heard the words of 'your kin', spoken with such gentleness. She thought for a while before giving her answer.

'I was raised far from here. I would not have known where to find you.' Farothwen tied the bandage. 'Do you suffer any other hurts?'

The man looked at her in wonder. 'No, but a great curiosity has now overtaken me. Where did you come from, Farothwen? Who were your parents? How did you end up here among the Elves?'

Farothwen shook her head. 'Alas, lord, I do not know. I have often wished I did, but I don't. But I am happy here among my family and would trade them for no other.'

The man nodded. 'I understand. But I would like to take you with us when we return, so we could see if we could find your kin.' He remembered something. 'Oh, do not think me rude! My name is Morandir, and these are my men. We were riding out on patrol when we were ambushed. The skirmish was short, but I fear my group of rangers are beyond aid.'

Curiosity pressed Farothwen. 'Are you the leader of the Dúnedain?'

Morandir smiled and shook his head. 'No. I am just one of the many captains. Arahad is our chieftain.'

Before Farothwen could ask any more, Celebrían returned while Elrond worked tirelessly now with Elenion's assistance. Those who could stand, including Morandir, rushed over asking for news. Celebrían looked at her, surmising what had just happened. Now she wondered - whether Farothwen would remain here with them, or if she would become a Ranger of the North, doomed to roam the wilds of Eriador without peace.

Glorohtar returned in the early afternoon with the hunting party, carrying a haul of rabbits and a large buck. Farothwen ran to greet him, and he saw the bloodstains on her dress.

'Farothwen! Are you all right?'

'What?' She looked down. 'I'm fine. A group of rangers were ambushed near here and they came to us, and I helped a little. I'm all right.'

The worry disappeared from Glorohtar's face as he embraced her. 'I was scared for a second.' He took her hands, and then frantically felt her left one. 'Where's your ring?'

Farothwen gasped, and then patted down her pockets. She sighed as she produced the silver ring so dear to her. She slipped it back onto her finger. 'I must have taken it off so as not to get blood on it.'

The ring was a simple silver one that she wore as a sign of her binding to Glorohtar. Elves need no symbol; the light in their eyes and the warmth of their voice tells if they are bound. But this was not the case for Farothwen, so she wore a ring instead.

'Are the riders all right?' He asked her.

She nodded. 'There were some that were hurt badly but I think Elrond can heal them. But Glorohtar!' There was a light in her eyes that Glorohtar had never seen. 'They are Dúnedain! My kin!'

Glorohtar smiled, but a worry lay on his heart. I promised I would follow her to whatever end, but what if she wants to live with the rangers? I would not have her leave, now that we have just begun our lives together anew in Imladris. What shall I do?

'How long will they stay?' he asked.

Farothwen shrugged. 'Until all of them are well, I guess. That could take weeks.'

Glorohtar took a deep breath. 'Will you go with them?'

'What?' She looked up. 'No, no. I will only spend time with them here. I would not leave you even if my family awaited me out there. My heart tells me it would not be worth meeting them. Maybe, in another time, in another place. But not here. We are too different.'

'Why?'

'They ride, they fight, they roam the wilds, or so their captain tells me. I have waited so long for a place I can call home, Glor, and I would not leave it. Especially since I have you and Ada to come back to.'

He smiled and embraced her, kissing her brow. 'I would not have you leave. I could not bear it.'

'You know I would not, for any reason.'

A/N: Just a little note of interest: if Elenion in any way seems familiar, he is. Some would know him as Melpomaen, most would know him as Figwit. I love the delicious haughtiness of this Elf, so I thought it would be a perfect role for him. You'll see a lot more of Elenion to come, promise.