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Part Three

~ The Meeting ~

The old man looked up and saw a girl who looked a bit young to be traveling alone. He looked at her for a long moment, with almost the same look as Radagast had given her when they parted - as one suddenly confronted by a familiar face but the memory of it was all but lost, buried under many years of care and worry. At last he replied. "Yes, young lady, around these parts that is what I am called. Who is asking?"

"My name is Elraen, I have journeyed here from Rohan for guidance in Rivendell, and was told that if I came across one called Gandalf to ask for his help."

Now all those clues strung together he found quite the puzzle. The eagles had reported to him rescuing a young girl by that name with Radagast from a small party of great wolves - whom, the eagles insisted, must have been some sort of scouting party for they were few, and had either been pursued off cliff ends or were chased back to the east of the Misty Mountains. They had no other details to give, however. The wizard was very curious to learn more. "Go on," he said. "What guidance do you seek in Rivendell? And who told you to ask help of me?"

"I seek the Elves at the urging of my foster-father Artamir, the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan," she said. "It was Lord Cirdan who said to ask you for help if I saw you."

All the more intriguing. He had met the ambassador once many years ago, but at the time he was young with a new family - an infant son - and no ward. "Come, then, child," gesturing to an adjacent seat. "Quickly, tell me your story."

She sat down and recounted the highlights of her story, telling him that her foster father told her to seek Master Cirdan, so to the Havens she went first. She left out Lord Artamir's talk of the throne, saying only that her father was connected to the lost royal family of the South - and remembering the Shipwright's warning she also took care to not to mention anything about her strange powers or the mysterious calming of the storm at sea, and especially what the elf ship captain had told her. She unhooked the scabbard strap and pulled out the sword in its sheath from under her cloak and handed it to him.

The wizard listened with interest, as the rest of her story was quite fascinating - pirates, the elf rescue (for which she only revealed that their ship happened to approach close enough for the elves to take notice of the altercation and decide to intercede). Most concerning however was the report of Orcs also found west of the mountains. Orcs and possibly Wargs, but all very far south of here, at least. Perhaps all working for Saruman, he thought. But what were the Dwarves up to, wandering in those parts? A scouting mission that missed had their mark too far south? He wondered. Were there plans for another attempt to retake Moria? Moria. That was a name he had not heard or thought about in many years. Perhaps they were at least considering the idea, but taking a lesson from the Quest for Erebor thought to at least send scouts first before attempting to send an army to dive in head first, as the Dwarves were wont to do. Returning to the conversation he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind (from which the thought of Moria would resurface shortly).

He took the sword and inspected it closely. It looked genuine, and the young girl did sound earnest, but he never knew of an heirloom sword of any significance in the southern kingdom. Elrond would know more. There was also almost certainly more to her story than she revealed, having said only that she was heir to a once important family whose lines had otherwise died out, but that Artamir feared for her acceptance in Gondor without his help. Indeed the line of southern kings inscribed on the scabbard did not escape his notice.

She came to the part about crossing the Shire and arriving in Bree. "I have been hearing much about these strange horsemen harassing and intimidating locals for the past few days; these riders in black. I fear the remainder of the journey from here."

There was a moment of silence as the wizard held the sword, pondering her story. She had the trust of the Shipwright, that was enough to satisfy him - and by itself piqued his curiosity all the more. In any case, something in his heart stirred, and told him not to distrust her.

"Well! It appears you do need my help, young Elraen," he replied at last, handing back the sword. "And that you do indeed have need of Elrond's counsel. As it happens I am also making for Rivendell. You may come along with me. But I must warn you, with or without my help the road will be very perilous."

Elraen was relieved. By Cirdan's account Gandalf had spent a lot of time traveling the north and knew it well. She hoped it would now be a smooth trip the rest of the way, and retired to her room for the night.

An hour before dawn Elraen was stirred awake by a great clamor out in the town. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, which looked out onto the street. Then she saw them - the riders, robed in black and tearing through town upon their black horses. Her mind went blank and her hands clenched as they bore away down the road.

She wondered if Gandalf would be awake as well and preparing to move on. She dressed and packed and even as she opened the door, there he was getting ready to knock.

"Ah, very good!" he said, seeing her already ready to go. "Come! We must away at once. My friends will need my help. I hope to catch up to them before those Riders do, if I can."

In truth he had more than half a mind to leave her behind with a note via the innkeeper, fearing it too dangerous for her to come along than to wait a while before heading on to Rivendell. But some foresight had set upon his heart, for something about her presence made him feel more comforted and hopeful, less weary and afraid, and he knew for some reason beyond his grasp that he must take her with him.

When he took in the sight of Sunstreak after Nob brought her out he smiled in approval. "Do your best to keep up!" he said.

He sprang up onto his great grey horse, and off Shadowfax bounded like the breeze. "Off we go," she said quietly to Sunstreak, patting her neck. "Try not to lose sight of them," and they too set off.

Gandalf was right about his horse's unmatchable speed. Sunstreak kept close at his heels for a half hour but then Elraen had to let her horse slow its pace. But she kept within sight of them, or perhaps rather he took care to keep within sight of her, even if at times he was far ahead, and so on they rode as the day darkened. Eventually he slowed and rode with her for a while. Late into the night he told her to make for Weathertop before he sped off again. She kept Sunstreak going at a light trot through the night, trying to sneak in a doze while riding, something the wizard had suggested. Fortunately as an elf-horse Sunstreak was still sprightly the next morning, when Elraen could at last see Weathertop off in the distance.

It was further than it looked, and it took the rest of the day to get there even at a good canter. Sometime around noon she thought she glimpsed a flash of light upon the hill, but it was hard to be sure in the bright midday light. The afternoon sun was waning in the sky when she found Gandalf again in the dell cut into the hill's side.

"Not bad for speed!" he said. "For I arrived just a few hours ago. Come, fill your water skins and let us go to the top to spy the country."

They left their horses to graze in the shelter of the dell and headed uphill. At the top they settled down for a bit. He saw the weariness on her face. "Take a little rest while you can. But soon I must try to keep them distracted here and away from my friends."

Distracted? Elraen began to ponder the wisdom of accepting his help. But she was very weary and didn't respond, and though all her things were back at the bottom of the hill, she lay down and went right to sleep. After a couple of hours he woke her again. "Keep alert," he said. "I desire to scout the area nearby. I shall return shortly." And off he went to retrieve Shadowfax from the dell.

Elraen sat up and faced the setting sun in the west, nibbling on some of the hard biscuits she carried, compliments of Mr. Butterbur. She scanned the road eastward as the sun sank below the horizon and the sky grew dark.

Then suddenly she felt it - a chill and foreboding presence that seemed to swell up all around her. No sooner did Elraen spring to her feet did they appear: four robed figures, tall and dark as shadows on a moonless night, advancing on foot. They must have reached the foot of the hill sooner than she thought, and found some sort of cover nearby. There they now stood in a half arc, nearly surrounding her.

She gasped as her eyes widened and her heart froze. The wind picked up, and in the distance thunder began to rumble. They stepped forward. She remembered Gandalf's warnings to simply flee and try to fetch her horse from the dell if she saw them approach, for they had powers beyond the grasp and strength of most mortals. But it seemed to late for that, and she remained frozen where she was, still as a statue, as though her feet were fastened to the ground. Slowly they closed in toward her. She scarcely dared to draw breath, and she was now at quite a loss over what to do.

Elraen felt something further bewildering and frightening, as though she could sense their thoughts bending toward her mind, summoning her to come toward them, and she knew without thinking on it that they meant to seize her for questioning. Under her cloak her hand clasped the hilt of the dagger. She felt their air of terror bearing on her, and a blank panic swelled up inside and began to grip her mind. Then something very strange happened. They halted.

For a long moment they stood, not moving. 'Why have they stopped?' Elraen wondered to herself. Against all reason she tried something stupidly bold, and stepped forward.

The four all stepped back. Then she realized it: they were afraid. She could feel the shift in the mood, sensing their wonder and fear. The light! Of course. These ancient and deathless wraiths must be able to see it as the elves did. All the stronger and clearer it shone to their eyes, likely, in their veiled state of living shadow.

Now the young shieldmaiden felt emboldened. Letting go of the dagger she cast back her cloak and pulled her sword. Gandalf had warned her that swords were of no use against them, but she could think of nought else to do, and readied for a defense. 'A good shield would also be helpful,' Elraen thought to herself.

She took another step forward. They took another step back. She could feel their dismay and confusion. Thinking of the wand strapped to her arm the young girl was able to do this much at least: cast a great blast of wind at them so fierce they struggled against it, just as she had done with the Wargs before in the mountains.

She let the wind slow a bit and they stood up straight again. Focusing her thoughts on the clouds, Elraen was able to gather them overhead. Lightning struck down in all directions upon the flat ground in the distance. The enemies turned their heads, seemingly unnerved by the sudden storm. Then she remembered Gandalf's words about having to keep them distracted there. Calming herself back down she let the wind calm and the lightning taper and push off like a normal storm.

A few moments later Gandalf returned upon Shadowfax, springing up to the top of the hill. Sunstreak appeared just behind, and dashing to the top she reared up high with a fearsome neigh. But at the wizard's heels had followed the rest of the Riders. They were now surrounded by all nine.

"Stay close!" he said, handing her a torch that was blazing high with a good flame. Elraen took it in her other hand, facing the ones behind them. She kept the wind blustering as much as she dared, while the lightning now seemed to strike upwards from the ground, as Gandalf sent rays of bright light stabbing upward from the ground, and cast the torch fire about like his fireworks displays, which scorched and burned the stones and lit grass around them aflame and kept them all stranded there for hours. Finally at daybreak the pair mounted their horses and broke through the circle.

Off along the little river Hoarwell they rode hard northward for a couple of days, going just fast enough to keep them chasing. Elraen was now quite accustomed to little sleep, and getting better at sleeping while riding. At last when they approached the Ettenmoor Hills the four still following gave it up and turned back, and they were able to slow down. Then Gandalf said they must release the horses from their service.

At this Elraen was grieved for she was very fond of Sunstreak. Now that she no longer feared these dark servants of shadow, the thought occurred to her to ride back toward the road alone. But, she decided to continue onward with the wizard, in part to keep hidden her secret, and in part because she had a foreboding sense about keeping in his company, as though her future had something to do with it.

"Farewell now, Sunstreak," she said, as she emptied much of the contents of the mare's bags into her own pack. "You may return home, or go with Shadowfax, or wherever you like." Sunstreak let out a soft neigh, then turned to catch up with Shadowfax, who was trotting off away westward. Elraen watched for a few moments and hoped they might cross paths again. With that she turned to follow the wizard southward with the great mountains upon their left, to begin the long march to Rivendell.