Author's note: Ahahaha. I haven't abandoned this story. I get doubts sometimes since this is really the longest thing I've written and published, but no matter which direction this story goes, I want to finish it.
The sun was hidden by white clouds. Still, light hit the ground from where the rays were able to slip through the wisps. While it was unusual to have such a day in this season, the elf would not question the blessing of good weather.
Though he was initially against the coming of the exiled dwarves on their journey to the mountain, the Elven-king rejoiced in the fact that the quest had not been futile. He had feared the wretched Worm's ire, and it seemed to be a long time before he felt the freedom of having the near lands unclaimed by darkness. To walk again without the fear of wakening the dragon was liberating. Though he and Areth walked only by the edge of the Woodland Realm, he still felt a sense of relief when seeing the Lonely Mountain from afar. No longer did he have to dwell on it with grief. Old mistakes could finally stay in the past.
Thranduil was in a better mood, but he supposed that it was also due to the company.
"Why do you still linger?" she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
The edge of Thranduil's lip twitched upward. "Were you not the one who requested we walk outside?"
Areth's forest eyes turned to him meaningfully.
"No, witty one. Why do you linger here?"
His brow arched upward, and he looked at her as if the answer were plain.
"Because… this is my kingdom, and I am their leader?" he said. Thranduil let out a light laugh when his companion's face changed. He knew that was not the answer she sought. "Evidently, I'm answering the wrong question."
She hummed and pursed her lips. "Well, perhaps I should say… Why do you stay here, in Mirkwood, when you could sail West?"
When Areth saw the elf's mouth slowly shift from a smile to open slightly. Whether it was an expression of understanding or reluctance, she did not know. If she had looked, she would have known that the question brought him no sadness.
Touching his long, jewel-adorned fingers on the woman's shoulder, the Sindar slowly guided her to the clear path that led away from the forest and by the stream. The plain was clear, and from a distance, the new Lake-town was within their sight.
"That is a rather sudden question. What brought this on?"
"I suppose I'm just wondering what holds you to Middle-earth."
Thranduil considered the question. Even as he pondered for a moment, he found that he couldn't quite put his answer into words.
"Many things," he said finally. Looking to the east, his face suddenly morphed, and Areth saw a hidden confusion. His brows drew together slightly. "I trust that Legolas will make a good leader, but I've never felt the call of the sea." An ironic smile then tugged on the edge of his lips. "I would not want him to waste away beneath a hollow crown. No"—the Sindar shook his head— "I feel that his purpose is much greater than these borders can offer."
Areth frowned. "And what of you? Is that truly how you feel, mellon?"
"I feel," Thranduil began. He stopped. Turning to Mîrdómiel, he admitted, "I cannot help but feel as if… I'm needed. As if"—he paused, feeling uncertain— "I am waiting for something."
The woman nodded her head. Perhaps she did not understand the customs of the Eldar to its entirety, but she knew that they heard more of the earth's whispers than any of the races.
The mortal looked towards the distant town.
"If that is so," she said, "then I hope you find what you are looking for."
Upon reaching the fences of the Mark's smaller village, Thorongil pulled the reigns of the steed. The horse galloped to a slow stop before pausing to where they could not be seen. Right behind him, Areth silently commanded her horse to halt and dropped from the horse's back. Throughout, her eyes searched the open fields.
The horse rider guardedly looked on with a sense of trepidation. She did not trust that the village would be without Fengel's spies.
Pulling the hood more securely over her head, Areth glanced at her companion. Thorongil, too, was wary. They would have to take caution.
"Much has changed," Areth said grimly.
The wanderer had been driven away from the Mark at the beginning of the madness. What once was a land of liberation became a still prison.
She and Thorongil had traveled hundreds of leagues, only to find this bleak desolation. What once was a land of pride and peace had now over its fields a grim shadow. Areth found it terrifying how things could change so quickly. She did not understand. Fengel King was not always as he was now.
The happiness she felt upon the thought of returning was shattered. But she could have expected nothing else. This was not the place she once knew.
Thorongil dismounted the steed. After tying his horse's reigns to a low branch, he made sure to do the same for Areth's horse. He was certain that Areth would have left the animal to wander.
The sun was almost setting. Still, light peaked through the low summit of the near hills. Time was slipping, but there was still much left to do.
The woman's arms crossed, and she assessed their options. She would not take another step until every movement they made was planned. Deciding that they would need to rest, she said, "We should find Cenric. He will help us."
"Alright," the man quietly agreed. He did not know this Cenric, but he guessed he was a secret ally to the rebellion.
Tucking the stray hair that fell from inside the robe, Areth kept her head down and traveled forward with Thorongil close on her heel. The caution they took seemed unnecessary. The dirt roads were empty, and those straying took care to mind their own business. However, they figured that it did no harm to take a greater care in their steps.
The bottom of the woman's cloak fluttered when she took a swift turn to the corner. She silently beckoned Thorongil to follow. When he determined that there was no one watching, he went with his companion.
Reaching a door, she quietly knocked on its surface and waited.
The small window slid open, revealing light, cautious eyes from the other side. A low, rough voice of a wary man answered. He sounded almost angry.
"Who goes there?"
Areth pulled slightly on her hood slightly, just enough so that her eyes could be seen. She needn't have said a word. The shadows had not been enough to completely veil the woman's features.
The man's eyes widened before shifting to something behind them. But as that was the only reaction Thorongil could see, he was uncertain if they would be welcomed.
The small window slid shut. The many chains and locks were unclasped and loosened, and soon after, the door was pushed open and they were beckoned inside. Thorongil caught only a small glimpse of his face before they were shrouded again in shadow.
The woman, glad that they were in the company of no other, pulled her hood down and relished in the feeling of air touching her sweat-coated skin. Areth sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Already, she was feeling the heat of the new season.
"Lady Areth," he breathed. The man bowed lowly. "I was not aware…"
Areth placed a hand on the burly man's hard shoulder and gently urged him upwards. When his light, amber eyes lifted to meet hers, he saw that while her face remained unchanged, her eyes were kind.
She shook her head. "You needn't lower yourself to me, my friend. I am your equal."
Cenric opened his mouth as if to speak, but hesitated. He merely inclined his head in hesitant acknowledgment. Despite this, he knew he would not regard the woman any less.
"This is Thorongil, a skilled ranger who has pledged his service to Lord Thengel," she said, placing a hand on her companion's shoulder. Gesturing towards the brawny man with a gloved hand, she said, "This is Cenric. He was once the captain of Rohan. He served directly under the First Marshal, if I recall correctly, as a part of the finest éored."
"The Third Marshal, my Lady," he quietly corrected.
While fulfilling his duty in what seemed like ages ago, he recalled often seeing a child, a golden-haired girl ride in the distant rice fields of Aldburg. Never would he have guessed that a farm girl would play a greater role in the state of their land.
Looking at the solemn face of the horse rider now, Cenric saw little of how she used to be. The person who stood before him now was far from the carefree child then. Now, she was a woman who witnessed countless of things, a leader who carried the burden of many. Now, she did not smile as freely as she used to. But then, he supposed there was little to smile about now.
Areth was quick to apologize for her mistake, which Cenric instantly assured was unnecessary.
Her lip quirked, and she said, "Still the finest."
The Eorlinga's eyes lowered, and he felt humbled.
Seeming to remember his company, he urged his unexpected guests to sit around the lone dining table. The small room was illuminated only by a single candle, and all the windows were shut and locked. Cenric seemed to realize this and made move to kindle the logs by the hearth.
Areth sat down. She brought a hand to unclasp the cloak from around her neck but then thought against it. Despite having it on for the entire journey, it smelled perpetually of sweet wine and berries. She bore the heat and kept it on.
The woman met her companion's grey eyes for only a moment. The small gesture communicated a silent agreement.
"Cenric," she began. She did not want to say these words, but she might as well jump right to the thick of it. "It is almost time."
The burly man stopped blowing on the growing embers of the wood. He breathed in the smoke of the dying fire. He never realized how fearful he was of those words.
When he remained silent, she looked again at Thorongil, but he only gave an unhelpful gesture for her to continue. Areth found herself becoming annoyed. Between the two of them, Thorongil was better with speech.
"Cenric," she repeated.
"My Lady," the man began slowly. He was still perched upon one knee before the hearth. "Know my loyalty is to you only, but if I may, I do not believe that many will answer if we are called to arms." He stood up and turned to the two. "Hope has been near beaten out of many of us. We are at a smaller settlement, which is oft mistreated by their king. But that alone gives the people no reason to turn to Lord Thengel. The alternative is no better than the former."
Cenric only voice what Areth had already suspected. She gave a sigh.
"How do the people fare?" said Areth.
Cenric shook his head sorrowfully. "They fear to hope. Whatever is produced here is going to the Dunlendings. Our supplies, our rations… Whatever we once owned is no longer ours."
Areth sighed. She had expected this. There was a faint stirring of anger in her heart, but at this point, she only felt tired. What she felt, she knew, did not matter. She owed it to these people to help in any way she can.
The single look that Areth gave him told Thorongil many things, and he did not like it. That one look in her eyes spoke of her intentions to linger a bit longer. While Thorongil was not against helping those in need of assistance, he knew that time was pressed. He shook his head gently, which only earned him a sharp look.
"However, Fengel King's men are no longer stationed in this area. Many were sent to the north."
Cenric's attempt to turn the topic away from the darker issue only brought his guests more concern.
"To the north?" said Areth in alarm. Cenric had never heard such dread in the woman's voice before that day. "Surely no farther than the Eastemnet."
"Past the borders of the Mark, I believe," he said. For his part, he felt gladness at the savages' departure, even if he did not know the reason. The fear they stirred within the hearts of his people left with them. "Last I heard, their destination was to a faraway forest of some sort."
Areth's hand clenched. She tried hard to remain calm, though the anxiety could be seen by the tension on her face. "When did you hear this?"
"Not but a month ago."
Areth's eyes sought the ranger's. Cenric was startled to see pure panic crease her face. No matter how short lived, shouldn't it work in their favor to have the enemy far away?
"So recent," Thorongil murmured quietly. "Our departure from the Elven-king's woods was such a long time ago. What reason have they to go northwards?"
"Do they still believe me to be there?" There was a small amount of fear in her voice.
Thorongil did not know the answer. He would say yes, for why else would Fengel send them to follow Areth's trail? But that particular trail has grown rather cold. He, Cirion, and Areth departed from the Woodland Realm mid-winter. With Linden leading them, surely they would have already realized that their target was no longer there.
The woman forced herself to calm. She assured herself that Thranduil's realm was strong enough to withstand the brute force of a few men. But she could not help but feel the guilt of knowing that she burdened her friend even more. Instead, she thought of her kinsfolk.
"Cenric, what can we do to help?"
Thorongil's grey eyes turned sharp. Keeping his voice composed but stern, he turned to the tongue of the Elves and said, "Dartho, Areth. Penim lû."
The horse rider's green eyes hardened. For the sake of their host, she kept her voice level and quiet, and spoke also in Sindarin. Still, even Cenric saw enough to understand the shift of the atmosphere. Areth barely heard Cenric quietly excuse himself to the small kitchen.
"Then we will make time for this, Estel," she was quick to disagree. "How can we simply bypass these people without helping them?"
"They have gone without our help for all these years without perishing. Surely they can survive for a little longer."
Even to his own ears, Thorongil knew that he sounded callous. But he understood his priorities. Thengel's first command was to go around the Mark and return with the loyalties of the settlements. With so little time, hardly anything else could be expected.
"How can you be so quick to dismiss their hardship?"
"I do not dismiss it," he said. His frustration made him unconsciously revert to Westron. "But we do not have time."
"I'll stay for as long as I'm needed," Areth said in her frustration.
Thorongil knew Areth long enough to know that she had a tendency to act with her heart. It was her fault and virtue. Had he looked at the situation closely, he would have realized why Gildhel had paired the two off. However, at the moment, he could hardly feel anything apart from a growing impatience.
"You're being unreasonable, Areth," the ranger almost scoffed. "This"—he brought his large palm and gestured around them— "is the state of the entire of Rohan. If we stopped and helped every single town we come across, not only will our presence reach Fengel's ears, but we would also abandon our purpose."
Areth was quiet for a moment. Her light brows were furrowed, and she unconsciously pulled her cloak closer to her chest. "Is it so horrible to not want to abandon my people?"
Thorongil softened. "Of course not. But you are letting your heart rule your mind."
The keeper frowned. "And why should I not? How are we any different from Fengel if we do not help? Remember why we are in a resistance, Estel. This"—she gave a small gesture between the two of them— "is not only for us. This is for those who live day by day without a voice. This is for those who can do little to change how they live."
By this point, there was confliction in Estel's eyes. He understood the plight of the people, but they could only linger for so long… If they delay, it would take them much longer to reach Orthanc. Who was to say that they would have the luck of being undetected?
Thorongil sighed. His eyes were resigned to Areth's wishes, and when he spoke, his low lilt held no bite of accusation. "You would willingly disobey Gildhel's orders?"
Areth's tone softened. "Sometimes, we must take matters into our own hands. What say you?"
A sigh.
"Aye, I will stand by you."
Areth's brow rose slightly. "It really did not take so much to convince you otherwise."
The man sighed again. "Well, I am not unreasonable. I do see your point."
"Or perhaps your conviction is merely lacking."
"It wasn't as if I was keen on leaving Lynburg without helping. It was between this and Gildhel's orders."
And then, Areth said a few words that spoke to the man's heart.
"Humanity binds us together, my friend. The ability to hear the heart of another is what sets us apart from beasts."
It seemed so simple a concept, but Thorongil believed that this was the moment when he finally began to understand why people looked to Areth.
Areth laid her palm upon her friend's and gently squeezed in gratitude. After another moment, she called to their host.
"Cenric?"
"Yes, my Lady. I will be out shortly."
The man emerged from the corner of the room. Even the dim candlelight could not diminish the new kindle in the depths of his eyes. In his hands was a large, worn tray with far too few things. On a plate was a few pieces of dried meat, and beside it were bowls filled with lukewarm porridge.
Areth was touched by the man's kindness. For one who owned very little, Cenric gave freely. If Lynburg was as poor as they saw, such actions were not a small thing.
"Unfortunately I have no spare rooms," their host said. "I hope the living area will be enough. I can rearrange the furniture and lay down cots for the night."
"Thank you. That is more than enough," said Areth. Thorongil nodded his thanks.
They ate in silence. The meal was not extravagant, but it reminded Areth of home. It was strange, because though returning to Rohan had turned Areth in a grave state of mind, here in Cenric's small, secure home, she felt at ease. The atmosphere had reminded of her own home that was by now long gone.
Further talk of business was halted for the night at Cenric's insistence, for he wanted the travelers to take their needed rest. For that, Areth was thankful. Had he not said anything, she and Thorongil would most likely be talking about their course of action for the next few weeks.
Cenric had left the two weary travelers to rest. He had spent the last week helping the village and attempting to assure the villages of security from the brutality of the oppressors. He felt more at ease sleeping now that they had distanced themselves from the village.
Areth and Thorongil spoke no words. They lay on the ground, comforted only by the cushion of the cot, and slept.
The rest could wait tomorrow.
And so the two travelers continued with their duty. Beyond what they were assigned to do by their leader, Areth and Thorongil continued to make time to help those they could. Though her companion was one to insist their early departure, a part of Areth was reluctant to part with the suffering. How ever much the people sought and respected her, Areth did not consider herself a saint. She was certain that it would have pained her more to have left them all in their time of need. In her mind, the help she gave was but a small penance for the burden she felt in her heart.
They could never stay long for fear of being recognized. Their faces were yet to be known by those of Fengel's rule, but with so much resting on their shoulders, they could not afford to take risks. While wanting to continue helping those in need, a part of Areth selfishly was almost relieved to be away from them whenever she and her companion found it time to depart. As undeserving as they were for the needless suffering, the grief and sorrow was as contagious as any disease in existence. Staying in one place allowed her grievances to catch up with her during the nighttime.
The more Areth and Thorongil continued on their journey, the more the woman realized how unprepared they were. These men and women—they had been beaten by their leader almost to the point of breaking. And some had unfortunately been driven to that point already, Areth thought grimly. She started to severely question whether or not Thengel actually knew the condition of the land and people, and almost resented him for being callous enough to call these people to arms. War was not the answer. These people had nothing left but their mortality, and Thengel sent her and Thorongil to gather the last thing they had to offer. Thengel, meanwhile, was left in hiding, planning attacks that treated his kin as dispensable pawns.
It was cruel.
But then Areth also understood the necessity of war. She was not naïve enough to believe that the end would be achieve without a battle. Still, it did not leave her blind to unkindness.
Each visit to an ally left her feeling more hollow and more hopeless. They were so unprepared. She did not believe they stood a chance against the trained men and allies of their enemy. They had none but themselves to rely on but those who chose to rebel, and Fengel had armies beyond those of the Mark.
"We need to go beyond the Riddermark," Areth said.
It was nighttime. The two companions had decided to set up camp, but opted out of making a fire. They were too exposed in the flat lands to set up a proper camp. If not the fear of being spotted by Fengel's watchmen, then it was by the spontaneous attacks of orcs or other evil creatures.
"I would agree with you, but I'm not sure of the success that would garner," said her companion. It was evident that even he felt the strain of their travel. "This is Rohan's affair."
"I don't believe we have much of a choice. We've yet to see a leader pledged to Thengel who gave us any news to bring hope. It is frustrating," she admitted with a sigh. "If we continue on our decided route, we will only see the same tired, broken villages barren of hope. I admit that it is starting to become difficult to tell them apart. We can hardly do a difference if we continue so. These people need help beyond what you or I can offer."
"Don't think that we're not impacting these people's lives, my friend," said Thorongil. "You answered their call when no one else would. That counts for something."
"But I do not believe it is enough. A few grains and herbs is not enough to win a war. To stop this, we must address the heart of the matter."
"What do you suggest we do? I do not advise going beyond the borders of the Mark. I hardly think that anyone beyond these lands would be so willing to interfere with matters that are not of their concern."
"Should we not try, at least?" said Areth. There was a concealed desperation behind the exhaustion in her voice.
"I would say yes, but we are short on time. If you were to leave for too long, then our main informant is missing. It is too much of a risk."
"Then…" her brow furrowed, and she looked almost lost. "I do not know what to do." She looked to her companion, hoping that he was not as hopeless as she.
"I think it is time to follow through with Lord Thengel's directions. Let us travel to Isengard."
"What is your real name?"
Areth looked taken aback. She turned her head slightly and looked at Thorongil with an odd expression on her face.
"What do you mean?" she said slowly. Each word was punctuated, depicting her confusion and slight suspicion.
"I do not believe that Areth is your real name," he said. "To be part of Eorl's Circle, you must have made a new identity for yourself. Areth is not a Rohirric name—its roots are Elven. Why choose Areth?"
The woman was not sure how to answer that. For a split moment, she considered lying, as she has many other times previous. She realized, however, that Thorongil would probably appreciate silence more than deceit. But when she met Thorongil's grey eyes—eyes that held no ill motive nor contempt—she realized that she wanted to escape the burden of dishonesty. Areth wanted to feel the liberation of sharing information to a friend that did not involve the filth of war.
"I was no one important before this revolution. I had no prestigious lineage nor did I have wealth. I was fine with that," she said truthfully. She turned her eyes and looked to the night sky's kindled stars. Areth suddenly felt wistful. "I would take that life back if I could—leave behind Areth and go back to the farm. My brother, however, was quickly rising the King's ranks. I chose a new name to dissociate myself from Linden entirely."
"Why choose an Elvish name?"
"At the time, I was fascinated with Elvish lore. I had never met any Elves—they were only a concept to me. I suppose I wanted a name that was far away from the Mark's roots. Not to say that I'm ashamed of being an Eorlinga, but… I don't quite agree with what it stands for right now."
"You really don't wish to tell me your name," Thorongil commented with slight humor.
Areth's brow rose. "What ever do you mean?"
"I asked for your name and you gave me your story."
"We are many leagues away from Isengard, I thought a conversation would be a good way to pass the night before we depart," she said, if not a little defensively. With a sigh of mock defeat and a small smile, she said, "Very well, my inquisitive friend. My name is Andreth. The similarity was a big contribution to why I chose my current name."
"You are named after Bëor's kin," said Thorongil.
"The Elves mentioned that to me in Imladris. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the origins of my name. I know only that it is not one that is traditionally used in Rohan. My mother only told me that Andreth was the name of a wise woman in the stories of old."
Thorongil nodded. "Andreth of the House of Bëor was a wise scholar learned in the histories of her kin and of the Eldar. She had a close friendship with Finrod Felagund."
Areth was not familiar with the old houses of men. Being a part of their culture and constantly surrounded by it, she was guilty of having little to no interest to their history beyond what she needed to know. She was, however, more familiar with Elvish lore, and recognized the name of the founder of the old Elven stronghold Nargothrond. Those were the stories that she sought as a child.
"You are very knowledgeable in every aspect of Middle-earth's histories," Areth observed. "A very uncommon thing for a mere wanderer that you so claim to be."
Thorongil gave a small chuckle. "Is this your subtle way of asking who I am?"
"Of course not, my friend. 'Tis but a comment. Though, now that you bring it up, I am curious," she said slyly.
"You would not believe me if I said my real name is Thorongil?" he said with amusement.
"No, I would not. They call you Estel in Imladris. We call you Thorongil in the Riddermark. What do they call you in Gondor? Do you have a name in Mordor?"
The man gave a much louder laugh.
"I've not lived on this world long enough to make such an impact on all the lands. Travelers familiar with the rangers know me by the name Strider. You met me as Estel. My given name, however, is Aragorn."
"Aragorn," Areth repeated. "That name is familiar. Are you from Gondor?"
"My ancestry takes me to those lands," was his elusive answer.
"I do not believe that is a very common name. Are you a lord, perhaps?"
"What?" Thorongil said, taken aback. "You assume me a lord all from my name?"
"Not from your name alone," she said. "You carry yourself differently. With Lord Thengel, you speak as if an equal. You speak differently, as well. More… knowledgeable. Educated. You hold yourself… I don't know."
"I do not have the humblest of backgrounds," Thorongil admitted.
Still, he remained elusive. Aragorn was grateful that Areth was not so familiar with history. He felt rather guilty by the fact that a big reason why he revealed his identity was because he was certain she would not know what his name really meant. Though he did trust her, he was not quite keen to be judged by the title of Isildur's heir. For the moment, he was fine with Thorongil.
Sensing his reservation, she said, "I will not press you, my friend. Your name will remain with me in confidence."
"As will yours," Thorongil said gratefully.
In the soft light of the fire's flickering flames, Areth surveyed him for a moment before giving a quiet laugh. "I'm not quite sure your name matches you."
Aragorn looked at his companion from the corner of his eyes. "I could say the same for you."
"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just imply that I'm stupid," she said drily.
The man barked another laugh. "Come now, Areth, I jest. The house of Bëor are dark-haired, from what I can recall."
"Do you know much about the wise-woman Andreth?"
"I am no expert. I know a few things, yes. Her story twines tightly with the Eldar."
Areth rubbed her hands together before attempting to soak up the fire's warmth. Staring at the flames, she murmured, "I would imagine so. You mentioned her friendship with Finrod Felagund."
She recalled the Elvenking of Mirkwood. It seemed that friendships between the races of men and elves were not as uncommon as she first initially thought. Still, she found humor in the parallels between herself and the woman she was named after.
"Another reason is because of Finrod's brother Aegnor."
Her green eyes shifted to her companion. "What of him?"
"Andreth and Aegnor were said to be lovers."
Areth frowned slightly. Looking at her companion, she said, "Truly?"
"That's what is said of them—an Elf-Lord and a mortal woman in love, separated by mortality and a perilous war. Her life would be quick to end compared to his, and he would be destined to spend an eternity without her." Leaning back against a tree stump, Aragorn let out a heavy sigh. He breathed once again from his pipe. The tale weighed too heavily on his heart. "Ironically, Aegnor was taken by the war much sooner before Andreth's mortality took her."
The grief on Areth's face deepened. The humor had gone, and she found the parallels hitting much closer than she had initially though. Replaced it was a feeling of a familiar sadness. Her eyes lingered on the dancing fire. The flames reflected a sheen of defeat from her viridescent eyes.
It was as if her name predicted her destiny.
"That is sad," she said quietly.
Aragorn silence said a grim agreement.
"Even if they had taken a different path, I do not think that there would ever be a happy ending for Andreth and Aegnor," Areth said.
Her grim words echoed into the silent night.
Areth beckoned her steed to a slow halt. Aragorn did the same beside her. The horses' faltering steps took them to a halt before a paved road. The many steps led to a tall tower that loomed above the great forest that surrounded it.
Orthanc was a great tower that gleamed black against the sun. It shone enough to depict its overwhelming presence over its surroundings. To Areth, it seemed ominous. It left her with a strange need to escape. This was unfamiliar territory—one that she was not so keen to cross.
The woman looked to her companion in silence, as if to ask if this was the right place. As she feared he would, Aragorn nodded.
Areth surveyed the great tower once again. "I have never been to Isengard," she said quietly.
"I doubt many people have. Those who seek the path to Isengard come here only to seek council," replied her companion. He got off his horse, his grey eyes not once leaving the tower.
Areth followed suit. She gathered both of the horses' reigns and secured them around the low branches of a nearby tree.
"Have you met the White Wizard before?"
"No. I hear of him being mentioned only. My friend Gandalf the Grey holds him in high regard."
Areth frowned as she surveyed Isengard once more. The tower seemed… dark.
"I do not understand why Lord Thengel is so insistent to approach the White Wizard," said Areth. Her voice was quieter than usual, as if wary that her voice would carry. "If he has not intervened already, I do not think that he will intervene at all."
"I think so, too," said Aragorn. From the little Gandalf had spoken about him, Saruman the White was more keen on giving council rather than providing direct intervention. "But perhaps he will be able to direct us to the right path."
Areth pursed her lips in mild discontent. "I don't think our journey was worth the hassle if our only objective was to get an old man's input."
"Hush, Areth," Aragorn said, but not unkindly. "You don't know what you speak of. The White Wizard's wisdom and power should not be dismissed so quickly."
"I'm sorry, my friend, I am just irritated," she said with a sigh. "I will keep an open mind. It's just that our time is pressed, and I don't believe we are contributing as much as we should by going such a distance."
"You must trust Thengel to have a greater plan."
Areth send Aragorn a look of doubt.
The doors of Isengard suddenly opened, and from there emerged a white figure that appeared to shine against the ebony of the tower. The figure appeared as an old man with silver hair and beard, clad only in white. In his ringed hand was a staff, which touched the ground with every step.
The White Wizard stopped at the bottom of his tower's steps. He stood tall with a certain grace that Areth had never before encountered. There, he waited for his two visitors to draw nearer.
When the two companions were before him, Saruman gave a barely-perceivable smile. It was wan, and it did not reach his eyes. His deep voice, though quiet, seemed loud to the travelers.
"So come before me the Chieftain of the Dúnedain unto this day to seek my council. And with him, a horse-rider," he said. His dark eyes stared at her expectantly, curiously.
The wanderer's viridescent eyes slowly trailed away from her companion. She inclined her head slightly and said, "I am Andreth of Aldburg. I am under the service of Lord Thengel, son of Fengel."
"You have traveled far through perilous roads. In what way may I be of assistance, Aragorn of the lost North and Andreth of Aldburg?"
Aragorn lowered his head slightly in respect before he spoke. "We hope to seek your aid regarding the affairs concerning Rohan."
"I see," Saruman uttered with a low hum. His deep voice held a tone of contemplation.
Before he said anything else, he silently gestured for them to enter the tower. A wave of a hand gestured the door close behind them. Entering his study, he sat behind a throne-like seat behind a stone table scattered with various books and scrolls.
When his guests had taken their seats, Saruman continued, "What sort of aid to you hope to gain from me? I have no army at my disposal. Even had I command of an army, I would not assume to pledge my aid in that regard. Unlike the Grey Wizard, I am not one to meddle in the affairs of men." He said this with a hint of scorn. "But as for council, I will offer what I can."
Areth frowned. "I do not understand. You would offer us aid of one kind but not another. Do you mean to say that you are against our cause?"
Saruman shook his head solemnly. His long, white hair shifted slightly with the small movement. "That is not what I mean, horse-rider. My intervention would communicate that the side I choose is the correct one. I do not believe that I have the right to meddle in the affairs that is meant to take a natural course. If the line of the kings is mean to fall this day, then it will fall."
Areth lowered her head slightly in acquiesce. She did not agree with it, but she understood the wizard's stance. "We would gladly accept your council should you choose to share it."
Saruman nodded. He gripped his staff and he leaned against the rest of his throne-like seat.
"Very well. Of what regards?"
Areth looked to her companion. He only nodded at her, silently urging for her to continue.
"We fear that the shadow of Rohan is growing. Its growth is leading us soon to war. I would like council in the actions necessary to prevent that."
"That would not be an easy task. Alone, it is an impossibility. Action would be required not only from you, but from the king of Rohan, also. An understanding must be formed between all parties. At this point, I think that the situation is too far along to reach a peaceful negotiation. Many times, we must simply accept that brutality is a necessary catalyst for change."
The keeper's expression turned grim. "Will you give us advice on the best course of action from here onwards?"
The features on the wizard's wizened face seemed to deepen with his frown. "That is not advice I can give with full confidence. I have lived to see countless battles—many avoidable and many inevitable. If there is anything that I learned, it is that there are many things we must accept is beyond our control. However, certain actions influence the course of the tide."
Aragorn was right in saying that wizards had a tendency to speak in riddles. Areth understood what was being said, but it seemed to her like Saruman knew more than he was letting on—as if he was a storyteller who knew the ending, and could only speak of bits and pieces to hint at what it could be. It frustrated her to a degree. The hardships of her people was not something that can be dismissed as mere story.
"I understand what you say, and I see truth in your words," she said carefully. "I do not mean to show any sort of disrespect for your wisdom, but I do not see how this is helpful."
Saruman's grim countenance was broken slightly by the slight twitch of his lip. Areth may have perceived it as annoyance, but on the contrary, the White Wizard felt himself gaining a semblance of respect for her. It was a rare thing for visitors to see beyond his intimidating demeanor and speak what is genuinely on their minds.
"I see that perhaps I am reiterating a truth that you already know," he said. "If that is so, then why bother to question?"
"I mean no disrespect," Areth repeated once again. Her head inclined slightly. "I only wanted to know if there would be an alternative course. Perhaps a part of me wishes that the truth is different."
"Many do in time of war, child," said Saruman sympathetically. In his deep voice was empathy and compassion. It was the first sign of what Areth would perceive as sincerity.
"If I may ask, Saruman, would you tell us anything you know of the movements in Rohan as of late?" said Aragorn.
The wizard's eyes shifted to the man. Resting a slim finger on his bearded chin, he said lowly, "One does not live by the Mark without hearing the marches. Of the King's plans, I would not be able to say for certain. He no longer seeks my council as he used to."
"Will you tell us what you know?"
The wizard surveyed them silently, as if in debate with himself, and remained quiet for the moment. Finally, he said, "Very well. Spies were sent to the Forest of the North—the Forest ruled by the last Elvenking. They plan an intimidation tactic to sever Mirkwood's allegiance to Thengel."
Areth's green eyes widened, reflecting alarm, and she unconsciously leaned forward on her seat. Her eyes quickly shifted to Aragorn. What allegiance?
Areth Mîrdómiel rode to the borders of the Woodland realm with hardly any rest. She stopped only to allow her steed recovery, and when the road became too bare for safe travel, she parted from her horse, releasing him from her, and traveled by foot.
Fortunately, after only five days of haste, Areth was able to reach a location very close to Mirkwood Forest. A few more leagues away and she found herself on the skin-changer's lands, exactly where she and Aldamir had once rested. That time seemed so distant.
The keeper was not very fond of the journey through the Forest. While the Woodland Realm, the realm of the Elvenking, held a special place in her heart, the black forest surrounding it, marred by the shadow of Dol Guldur, paved perilous ways. In her haste to navigate to the Realm's gates, she hoped that she would not encounter anything that she alone could not handle. With the Dunlending camps at the locations surrounding the forest's heart, Areth would be unprepared for an ambush.
The woman maintained a tight grip on her bow and arrow as she entered the forest. The darkness, though not completely overwhelming her sight, hindered her her vision enough so that she had to rely more heavily on her other senses. She learned from her time with Aldamir of the Forest's deceit—its illusions would surely lead her astray. She wandered forward with the intention of following the Forest River, certain that it would lead her to the heart of the realm. It felt more dangerous now that it did before.
The keeper tugged on her hood, conscious of keeping her face completely hidden. The shadow gave her aid, but she was unwilling to take any chances, especially with the knowledge that she was not alone.
After hours of following the the stream, Areth found herself stopping to gather the little left of her strength. The endless journey from Isengard to Mirkwood took much out of her. The keeper hardly rested in her haste. The little strength she could muster came only from the urgency of her situation.
The woman leaned against the base of the thick tree. She closed her eyes. Slowly, her back scraped against the tree's rough bark until she was sitting on the ground. She rested her weapons beside her. Bringing a bare hand to her face, she touched her furrowed brow.
"Was allying with the Silvan Elves not your intention by entering Mirkwood?" the White Wizard had asked.
"Of course not. They are not a race so easy to ally with humans. Not since the Second Age."
Saruman hummed in contemplation. "Certainly it did not look that way to Rohan's paranoid King."
Saruman was correct. Of course he was. Fengel would view this as a political move—an attempt by the Circle of Eorl to gain strength. But more than anything, Areth began to understand why Prince Thengel send her to Mirkwood.
As a diplomat, she would not have been allowed even an audience with with the leader of the reclusive realm of Mirkwood. Rohan and the Woodland Realm had no ties—certainly nothing like what they have with the city of Dale. But as a guard and guide to a Gondorian scholar, she would not have been turned away. She, instead, as a hasty alternative, was sent blindly as a wild card.
The poorly fabricated story of being a guide, of being sent to Mirkwood for her protection, was basically a pile of horseshit. If anything, this had put her in more danger than before. But with the lack of strength behind their cause, Thengel had turned desperate and therefore sent her in hopes of the slightest bit of results.
Try as she might to seek justification, Areth found herself feeling betrayed. She joined the Circle with the promise of trust and loyalty. Despite being labeled the keeper of allies, the messenger of the rebellion, she understood how disposable she really was.
She rubbed the tension from her face. She urgently had to speak to Thengel. But that would have to wait until after she settled the chaos she had left behind in Mirkwood.
What emerged from the betrayal and the guilt was a great sense of determination to undo any sort of damage she had left in her wake. Shadow had plagued Thranduil enough. She needn't be another reason.
The horse-rider's viridescent eyes glittered with ferocity before being hidden beneath the shadow of her hood. She gripped her bow with a sturdy hand and readied an arrow with the other. Using the darkness as an ally, she moved through the forest undetected.
Almost.
In truth, Areth did not completely know where she was going. Using the knowledge that Aragorn had taught her—a few things that the rangers had taught freely—she moved in the direction that seemed to show life. She followed the places where plants grew, places where the soil felt warm. She felt closer to settlement. Getting closer to life, however, meant getting closer to danger. Areth did not know whether she was following the path of Elves or Men.
She remained diligent—as diligent as she could be in her urgency and exhaustion. But Men's eyes were not so sharp in the night. Wrong steps led her to make sounds that echoed in the night. And while she so far was lucky that there was no one to witness her mistakes, her luck ran out eventually.
A misstep led to the rustled whispers of dried leaves. And though the woman saw no one, she had the sinking feeling that she was not alone. But as she surveyed the area, there was not a shadow that swayed. It took her a moment to realize that her two spies travelled on branches.
Arrows flew around her, and she barely managed to dodge each one.
Against a sliver of light, Areth caught a glimpse of Elvish arrowheads. Rather than feeling hope, she felt bewilderment. She did not know the Woodland Realm's guards to attack blindly.
"I am no enemy," she attempted. The woman finally stopped and took safety behind a large tree.
She did not relinquish the defensive hold on her weapon. Areth clenched her teeth in frustration. It did not seem as if these scouts were willing to listen. However, she knew that she was at their mercy at this point. This was not her forest.
With great reluctance, the horse-rider gently dropped her bow and weapon from behind the tree, far enough so that her pursuers can see. With her gloved hands visible, she slowly emerged from behind her safety and entered the clearing, surrendering herself.
But her pursuers took no heed. One had dropped himself from a branch to the ground directly behind her. With a sharp pain on the back of her head, she fell heavily to her knees. Her cloak no longer hid her identity.
The woman's palms lay flat on the soil, supporting her from the blow. Her vision blurred. She felt a warm trickle down her neck.
Areth gritted her teeth to silence her pain. Her glare was directed at the ground. Otherwise, she remained tense and still.
This was a side of Thranduil's realm that she had yet encountered. Not until now.
"It is a strange thing to find an intruder so openly wandering Greenwood when we have restricted our borders," one of them hissed. "You have no business here."
"I need to speak to King Thranduil," she spoke through her teeth.
"We do not take visitors to the palace, stranger. Only prisoners and corpses."
"Not even friends?"
The Silvan elf eyed her strangely. He sent a look towards his companion in silent communication.
"Are you with the Gwathuirim?" he said. His voice spat the name, as if cursed.
"No," Areth coughed out, looking up from the ground.
"Do not lie to me, filth," he hissed harshly. Areth felt the sharp pain of a pointed tip of an arrow harshly scrape against the skin on her neck.
"Dartho," another voice said with urgency. She looked at her captor's companion, and though she did not recognize him, he seemed to recognize her. "This is her, the mortal woman."
The pressure on her neck lessened for a moment, but not enough to allow her movement. Only a moment after, the pressure had returned so much more intensity—enough to have broken the surface of her skin.
"Then all this is your doing," he said. His voice, though but a whisper, was filled with blame.
"Leithio nin," Areth uttered slowly, warily. She suddenly felt as if she truly was in a position of danger. Release me.
"Your arrival to our home brought a plague. What is stopping me from throwing you to those barbarians?" he hissed at her. She received another blow. "You are what they are after. They will leave if you follow."
The Elf's emotions ruled his heart and mind. Just by looking at the ferocity in his eyes, Areth knew that his threats were not empty.
"That is not within your authority to decide, soldier," a sharp voice intervened. "Release her."
"Hir nin," exclaimed her captor. He took a few steps back.
She did not expect this level of hostility at her arrival. She knew that there would be resentment and more caution, but she had thought that Thranduil's protection would cloak her from his people.
"I will have a word with you upon our return. Such actions towards an unarmed person promised under our protection is inexcusable," he said sharply, giving the essence of absolute authority. "King Thranduil will hear of this, do you understand?"
A beat of silence. "Yes, my lord."
"Dismissed, all of you. You have done enough harm."
Her assailant and his companions departed, and soon, she was left the captain of the guard. When they had left, she spat a bit of blood that followed from the blow. It was not severe, she still felt its sting. Still, while she was said to be free to do so, she was cautious and made no move to stand.
"Goheno nin. I will not make excuses for any of them, but know that this is not treatment we present in our realm. Do you need help?" he said. Legolas did not wait before placing strong hands on her waist and shoulder and hauling her to a near-standing position.
The Elf Prince did not doubt that his father would especially be outraged by his scout's behavior, especially towards the mortal woman.
"They are angry," said Areth, sounding out of breath. She spat again, attempting to get rid of the metallic taste of her blood. "What your soldier did was petty, but I see where he is coming from."
"It is still inexcusable," said Legolas. "My father swore you to be under our protection, and yet you find yourself hurt under the hands of my ward. I will do my best to amend that."
The Sindar took her arm and placed it around his shoulders. He ordered one of his companions to go forward and send word to the palace, and he ordered the other one to fall behind and keep watch of the trail, in case Areth was followed.
"Think nothing of it," the woman said with a grunt. "There are more urgent matters at hand. Can you get me an audience with your father?"
Legolas almost shot her a look of disbelief. As if his father would refuse her anything at this point. He was willing to endure the attacks for this woman. She would ask for a moment, and Legolas was certain that his father would offer an eternity.
"You don't need me for that. He would gladly give you his time—you need only ask."
Areth remained silent.
She needed to speak to Thranduil. But if she were to be truly honest with herself, a part of her was glad to have a reason to twine their paths once again.
Author's note: Thank you for reading. I'm sorry if I'm not sticking to canon as I normally am. I know that Aragorn was said to never have gone to Isengard before the Two Towers, but it was more fun this way. In any case... I'm still thinking up of details for the next chapter, so I don't know when that's gonna come out. Hopefully some of you enjoyed this one. Happy new years.