The rangers shared a moment of grief for lost friends, but neither shared the burdens they both bore. Daeril knew her broken heart from a love lost too soon was not so important in the light of recent events. In time, she would give Faron the grieving that he deserved, but for now there were other matters to attend to.
"I left word with Mr. Butterbur at the Prancing Pony to pass you a message… did he not do so?"
"If there is one word of advice that I can give you, far too late, it is to never trust a message with Barliman Butterbur."
"I will remember that, for next time." Daeril laughed. "Will the hobbit be alright?"
"I do not know. He was stabbed by a Morgul blade."
Daeril did not know what that meant, but it did not sound promising for the hobbit.
"Poison?"
"In a way, but not so simple as poison. I will tell you more, but first I must check on Frodo."
"Go. I've held you up long enough."
They parted ways, Daeril heading back to the stables, mind buzzing with questions. There was a new arrival in the barn, a chestnut pony, filthy and loaded with gear. Daeril nearly jumped, startled, as two hobbits emerged from behind the pony.
"Hullo!" A sandy haired hobbit greeted her. "Are you an elf?"
Daeril laughed. Save for her height, nothing about her looked remotely elvish.
"No, I'm no elf."
"Are you one of Strider's folk?" The other hobbit asked.
"I am his kin, yes," She said. "My name is Daeril."
"I am Peregrin Took," The sandy haired one said with a slight bow. "This is my cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck."
The darker haired hobbit nodded in greeting.
Without being asked, Daeril unloaded the pony's packs from his back. The poor thing looked half starved, much as her own horse had.
"Do you live here?" The one called Meriadoc asked.
"No, I'm just passing through. There are few places friendly to us ranger types, Rivendell is one of them."
"Where are you from?" Asked Peregrin.
"Same place as you. The outskirts, at least. I patrolled outside of Buckland for seven years. Recently I have been at the Ford south of the Shire."
"There are rangers near Buckland? I have lived there all my life and never seen any big people!" Meriadoc looked genuinely shocked.
"We are everywhere. Not being discovered means we are doing our job well."
Ladrochan entered the stables, accompanied by Lindir, one of Elrond's advisors, to collect the hobbits. Daeril bid the two inquisitive newcomers farewell, and continued to attend to their pony. Ladrochan stayed to help.
"He fares as poorly as yours did." Ladrochan stroked the chestnut's nose. The pony was mild tempered, and stood completely still as Daeril attended to him. "Bree does not have the same care for their mounts as in days past, it appears."
"Things haven't been going well in Bree for some time," Daeril recalled the fight with the Southerners that had led to her move to the Ford. "I believe things will keep getting worse."
"What have you seen?"
"Men from the South. More and more every time I pass through. I don't know what they come for, but they are up to something."
The pony fell asleep where he stood in the barn aisle, a hind foot cocked upward and his muzzle near the ground. The ranger ran her fingers through his thick golden mane, pulling out brambles that had settled in.
"There are many things being set into motion. I fear the North isn't safe from the shadow in the East much longer." Said the elf.
"Does the Halfling have anything to do with it?"
"I cannot say, for I do not know." Ladrochan took the pony by the halter. "Go now, I will tend to this fellow."
Aragorn was a hard man to find, and Daeril did not get any kind of explanation from him for some days. She found herself more often alone with the horses, or speaking to Ladrochan and other elves. Four days after being brought to the care of Elrond, word came that the Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, had awoken. Preparations were underway, soon after the news broke out, for a feast to celebrate victory against the Nazgul at the Ford of Bruinen. Daeril offered to help with preparations, but the elves refused to put a guest to work, as per usual. Instead, she worked on getting her horse ready for whenever she would leave Rivendell.
Daeril had not ridden her new mount since arriving, giving him time to recover from their arduous journey and his various hurts. The last she had ridden him, he had thrown her off in fear of the black riders, and she was in no rush to get thrown again. However, if she wanted to make it home in one piece then he would have to be fit to be ridden.
The horse had filled in nicely in his stay in Rivendell, and looked like a true riding horse. He wasn't as big as her horse back home, but not as small as a pony by any means. He was built for speed, not power. He stood still as she hopped up into the saddle, but began moving forward the moment she sat down, as he tended to do. She pulled back on the reins, and as usual the horse threw his head in the air before coming to a halt.
Ignoring his bad habits, she rode off down the path towards a small bridge over the river. There would be bridges and rivers to cross to get anywhere from Imladris, and he needed to get over his fear. The elven refuge was peaceful and beautiful, yet the horse seemed to be the only living thing that was not in a state of serenity. He walked quickly, head in the air and blowing at every little noise and blowing leaf. Daeril tried to stay calm and relaxed, but found herself focusing more on keeping the animal's head going straight and herself in the saddle. They came soon to the small bridge, this one thankfully having rails on the sides, and she brought him to a halt.
Taking a deep breath, trying her hardest to physically show her mount that everything was safe, she had him walk again. He walked forward, ears forward and alert, neck arched. They crossed the threshold onto the smooth stone, the hoof falls sounding against the hard surface.
"Good boy," She said, stroking his neck.
He took one more step, tensed up, and then bolted. Daeril nearly went flying out of the saddle, but saved herself at the last second by leaning onto his neck and holding on. He stopped as soon as they reached the other side, dancing in place and snorting.
The sound of fine elvish laughter sounded nearby, and Radir appeared around the bend in the trail upon his grey mare, Lossen.
"You saw that?" Daeril asked, laughing herself.
"Yes, it was quite entertaining. Thank you."
"Glad to be of service," She had successfully calmed the horse to a standstill.
"I was coming to find you, coincidentally. I have just seen the sons of Elrond and a man entering the gates. If I am not mistaken, it is your brother."
"Can you bring me to them?" She exclaimed, heart pounding in excitement. Nobody had heard from them for so long that she had begun to fear the worst.
Thankfully, after his short outburst, Rocky had settled down and followed Radir and his mount without hesitation. It was an hours' ride to the outer gate, and the elf and woman rode in silent companionship. Radir could see the three riders before Daeril could, but soon she recognized the three figures. Elladan and Elrohir, both dark haired and resembling their father, and her own brother, tall, strong, and bald as ever. She hid a smirk as the sun gleamed off his head, remembering how the other rangers had often referred to him as "The Beacon of Arnor". Even with a lack of hair, there was no denying the similarities between the brother and sister. The two parties converged on the path, and exchanged greetings. Daeril took a deep breath, waiting for the onslaught of anger from her brother.
"What are you doing here, Daeril? Why have you abandoned your post?
"It was not willingly," She said, wishing that their greeting could have been a happier reunion. "There is much to speak of, brother."
The five riders headed to the courtyard outside the main house, tying the horses to the hitching rail. Daeril went to collect the horses to bring them to the stables, but Daenir stopped her.
"Come with us, Daeril."
Radir nodded a farewell to Daeril, and stayed with the horses as she followed behind her brother and the sons of Elrond. Aragorn came running from the front entrance, meeting the group before they entered the house.
"My brothers, your arrival is unexpected," He greeted.
"It appears we have come home at a busy time," Elladan said. "To what occasion do we owe this feast?"
It was late when Daeril finally made it to the Hall of Fire, and the feast hand ended. She had met with the sons of Elrond and Aragorn, and then been interrogated by her brother for what felt like hours. She hadn't the desire to eat any of the feast leftovers, but wine was sounding quite a necessity. Reliving the entire ordeal at the Ford and her journey to Rivendell was especially difficult in telling her own brother. He had been angry, at first that she had disobeyed direct orders by leaving her post, but the circumstances were dire and he forgave her. Thinking about Faron, however, was too much.
At Daenir's bidding, she at least made an appearance in the Hall, grabbing a glass of wine while she made a walk around the perimeter of the room. Nobody stopped to talk to her, thankfully, so she was able to easily slip out onto one of the porches unnoticed after grabbing a second helping of wine. The Hall had grown hot with the fires blazing and the crowd, so the cool autumn air was a welcome relief. Daeril stood at the railing, looking out over the waterfalls below. She stiffened as someone moved into place next to her some time later.
"You will not join in the merry making, mellon nin?" Radir said with what could be construed as a smirk.
"This is my contribution," She said, taking another swig of the smooth elvish wine.
"An excellent choice."
Daeril laughed. The wine did not taste strong, but already its affects could be felt. It had been some time since she had last drank, and she wondered if her tolerance had lessened.
"Do you wish to be alone?" Radir asked.
"No," Daeril replied. "Your presence is welcome, friend."
"Good!" The elf brought forth a bottle of wine. "I prefer to drink under the stars, as well."
The two companions were soon joined by more elves, and they drank and told stories and sang songs as the celebration continued inside. The Dorwinion wine was strong for even the elves, and Daeril found herself going quickly from happy and talkative, to extremely sleepy. She soon drifted off to the sound of an elf maid singing a song of sea birds and ships in a harbor.
It was not yet dawn when Daeril awoke, still on the porch, laying on a bench with her cloak draped over her. She sat up, feeling the effects of the wine in the throbbing of her head and the sudden recoil of her stomach. There were still soft voices speaking and singing in the hall, but it appeared most of everyone had long since retired. Knowing she would not be able to get back to sleep, even if she went to her own bed, she made her way to the stables to begin the days' work. There were more horses and ponies, due to the arrivals of a band of dwarves and other elves, doubling the amount of work that needed doing.
"You are awake early," Ladrochan said, leading one of the dwarves' hardy ponies to the pasture. Daeril grabbed the next one and followed. She wasn't sure her mumbled response was even any language of man or elf.
One of the guards came riding up upon a large gray mare, with neither a bridle or saddle.
"Prince Legolas Thranduillon has arrived," The guard announced, dismounting and handing the reins over to Ladrochan.
"What is going on?" Daeril asked Ladrochan as they walked the prince's horse into the stable. "Hobbits, the prince from Mirkwood, dwarves?"
"Lord Elrond is holding a council this morning. I do not know more than that."
Naturally, Daeril had not been clued in to the nature of the council, and it went on ahead without her while she worked in the stable. At some point in the morning the sky turned dark, and fearing a storm coming she ran to start bringing the horses in to shelter. Within moments, the sky was its normal blue. Whatever was going on at the meeting, she was unsure she wanted anything to do with it.