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~ The River ~

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As they prepared to leave Elraen spoke with Aragorn privately, offering to accompany Frodo into the Dark Land, if he preferred to go onward to Gondor. For herself she felt best fit to help the Ring Bearer through the last and worst leg of the journey anyway, knowing she was feared by Orcs and the Nine alike. Additionally she guessed that in the event this raiment were slain she would either simply be recalled to her home or be free to take form as any element she deemed appropriate to continue aiding the Free Peoples. Those thoughts of course she kept to herself. "For we are both heirs of Elendil," she said to him, "and as such brethren I am honored to share your burdens."

Aragorn was touched and impressed by his offer, and also quite curious for she said this as calmly as if she were offering to fetch him tea. He held her gaze for a moment, but saw nothing in her voice or face suggesting some foolish motive, like a youthful desire to achieve great renown, or yet something more worrisome such as a desire to possess the thing for herself.

All things considered she did oddly seem a suitable choice for the task, being smaller in stature and weathered to dangerous travel he expected she could manage stealth fairly well, and also having a strangeness about sensing the enemy that could well come useful. Furthermore he noticed a change had come over her since they had arrived in Lorien, less grieved and lost did her spirit seem, and more assured and confident but still grim, rather like himself and his people. But he was still at a loss, torn between his desire to go to Minas Tirith and feeling obliged to guide and protect Frodo himself, both as Isildur's heir and from not wanting to send the strange young girl into further danger.

At last the morning came when it was time to leave and continue on their journey, and the Elves brought more spare clothes and supplies. And upon the green lawn of The Tongue, Galadriel appeared with a last farewell and more gifts. Elraen was sitting between the young hobbits and the elf and the dwarf for the feast, and stood up after Pippin to receive hers.

"For you, Elraen, daughter of Prince Marasir, last of the Royal House of Anarion," she said, "I understand you have been in want of a shield. So I pass to you mine own from my youth, wrought in a place and time now long forgotten." And she presented a small round shield that matched the cuirass now hidden beneath the cloak. None were unmoved by the sight of it gleaming in the noon sun, with a small golden V embossed in high Elf lettering upon the gold-rimmed white field. Even the elves nearby were surprised at such a gift, some having never even seen it before in all their time living in the Wood. Elraen bowed low to take it, and hung it to the hook on the scabbard strap under the cloak. She climbed into the last boat with Legolas and Gimli, and being the lightest she sat up at the front, and though they took most of the baggage the three of them together yet made the lightest boat load. She sat quiet as Gimli and Legolas talked of Lothlorien, and thought of her journey in a little boat on the other side of the mountains a half year ago.

Early into the journey upon the river Boromir woke her to take over the watch. She sat and gazed eastward in silence over the river. But the son of the Steward tossed and turned in the spot to which he had retired, restless and tormented, and sat up briefly. "This quest is cursed!" he muttered low. "What can it lead to but death and ruin?"

His words were uttered under his breath but in the still of the night could be heard clearly, and Elraen was not sure if he was talking to her or just to himself, but she was distressed by his words. "Please, Boromir," she turned and said to him, "Do not despair; have faith in the wisdom of your leaders and friends."

He looked over at her astonished, for she spoke the very same words in a dream but a couple of weeks earlier, which he had all but forgotten. Then after a long silence suddenly he let out a weary sigh and his face softened, and for the rest of that night at least his worries subsided and sleep took him.

On the eighth night as they approached the rapids Legolas, Gimli, and Elraen cried out "Yrch!", "Orcs!", and "Goblins!" all at once, and the brief attack began as they battled furiously against the current. The little boat became almost stuck in the rocky shallows, so as the dwarf and the elf labored to push the boat upstream Elraen decided to risk jumping out for a moment, even in the dark. Legolas and Gimli watched her in wonder for a moment. "Keep paddling!" she cried.

There was just enough moonlight to see that the rocky bed was not more than calf deep. So she waded to the back, and as she turned toward the rear of the boat the shield slung to her back took a hit with an arrow, which promptly dropped into the water. She bent down and leaned her weight and gave a great heave as her boat mates dug their oars like poles into the river bed, and the boat began to loosen as the channel grew deeper. She dashed back up to the front and lightly hopped back in before it became too deep, deftly springing in by Legolas and lightly scrambling back to her seat at the front. Then she began paddling furiously alongside her comrades. When they at last found relief on the western shore, Elraen turned to Aragorn as Legolas sprang up the hillside.

"Do you feel that?" she asked in a worried whisper as she caught her breath, "What is that?"

Aragorn looked at her curiously, wondering, as did Frodo, when suddenly Legolas cried out, and let his arrow fly, and the attack ended.

"Who could say what it hit?" he asked.

"Something dark and fell for sure, I could feel it." she replied with a sigh and shake of her head, just before the dwarf chimed in with his answer.

They sat in the boats the rest of the night; Elraen managed to prop up her pack against the seat and side and lean back fairly comfortably, at least as far as small boats go. She shook her head every so often to keep awake, and thought of the clouds, and the rain, and of when she once dwelt with a vast thick mist upon the ground. A new fog then settled in around them, and the little princess eventually slipped into a doze for a short while before dawn.

Boromir protested at the idea of returning to the water. Elraen looked up at him thoughtfully, and surprised herself by siding with him on the issue. "Perhaps we should now stay on the western shore and continue on foot?" she said to Aragon. "The river seems very vulnerable now."

But Aragorn continued to reason against it, insisting on keeping to the river as far as the falls. Elraen conceded the argument to their leader, and dropped the matter, long before Boromir did; at least until Frodo also resolved to follow Aragorn's lead. When Aragorn departed she worried near as much as Frodo did. Who would take charge? Surely Boromir would try. Elraen had no desire to lead, but even less desire to follow him, given the odd state he seemed to be in. Furthermore she was inclined to split the group, and soon, with maybe just her assisting Frodo and Sam in stealth across the eastern shore, and possibly the elf with his light tread and keen sight, with the rest going with Boromir to assist Gondor. The princess knew they would likely all be quite resistant to that course, and she had no idea how she would talk any of them into it.

In her mind she was considering all manner of other possible plans when the two comrades returned in short order, much to her relief. Then Elraen took one of the men's packs and slung it to her front while Gimli took the other, and the others scrambled along with the rest of the gear.

After that Elraen tried discreetly to keep them under cover of fog as best she could. This however at times resulted in more cumbersome weather than bargained for, once heavy rains started up.

Finally they passed the Argonath, and Elraen looked upon the great stone kings. A flush of memories washed over her mind, of the tall and powerful lords of Numenor of old, sailing the seas in their grand ships and leaving their striking landmarks along the coasts and rivers of Middle-earth. She could not help but feel the pride and majesty of the royal line stir the mortal heart with which she walked.