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Pain Taken and Replaced

Some time later, Drifter was in the Hall, leaning against one of the pillars. She was back in her ranger garb, though it was once again clean, her weapons were secured around her person, and her bag was strapped over her vest and cloak. As she studied her sword, muttering that the guards would wish they were never born if they had harmed it, Éowyn opened a chest and took a sword out from its depths. After marveling at the weapon, the maiden began practicing. Meanwhile, the Drifter continued checking her own armament for any blemishes caused by the men of Rohan. Suddenly, metal clashed against metal as Aragorn blocked one of Éowyn's blows with his dagger. At that, the female ranger casually took out her carving and began the finishing touches.

"You have some skill with a blade," Aragorn noted.

Sheathing her sword, the woman replied,

"Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."

"What do you fear, my lady?"

"A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chances of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

"You are a daughter of kings, a shield-maiden of Rohan. I do not think that would be your fate." Éowyn gazed at the Man's back as he retreated from the area. Drifter blew loose shavings from her artwork, ignoring the dust which fell to the floor.

"I never caught your name. I mean…I heard what Gandalf called you, but what is your real name?"

The statement caused Drifter to look up at Éowyn, who continued her work, though she occasionally glanced at the ranger.

"Your people know me as Falathiel."

"But you…"

"Éowyn," Théoden suddenly said, "are you ready?"

-Saved by the king-

"Yes, Uncle," the woman replied prior to walking off with her sword.

"May I ask what you told her, Théoden?" the remaining woman queried.

"Another time. For now, we must leave."

"Very well."

--

(Aragorn)

The next day in the late morning, Gimli was on a horse ahead of Aragorn, with Éowyn walking next to him.

"It's true you don't see many dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that they're often mistaken for dwarf men."

When Éowyn looked back to Aragorn in confusion, he whispered,

"It's the beards…" Drifter, meanwhile, was walking next to the Man's own horse on his right. The way she walked…she acted as if she belonged there. There was no discomfort that he could see. She simply walked on, with a hand rested on her sword and her eyes downcast in deep thought, how she was much of the time.

"And this, in turn," Gimli was continuing, "has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women. And that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground. Which is, of course, ridiculous…" As Éowyn gaily laughed, the horse began galloping away due to Gimli's sudden movements and he fell off. "It's alright, it's alright," the dwarf burst out, getting up. "Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate."

"I haven't seen my niece smile for a long time," Théoden unexpectedly stated after slowing his horse to walk beside Aragorn's while Éowyn continued laughing. "She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief. Then she was left alone, to tend her king in growing fear…doomed to wait upon an old man, who should have loved her as a father."

--

The caravan soon stopped in the evening to set up camp and Éowyn began walking towards Aragorn with a pot of soup before long. She first stopped in front of Gimli, but he responded to her by saying,

"No, I couldn't. I really couldn't." The Man heard a snicker come from next to him, but when he looked to his right, all he saw was the straight-faced Drifter sitting a few feet away, nibbling on the last of her lembas bread.

(Drifter)

"I made some stew," Éowyn offered to Aragorn. "It isn't much, but it's hot." As the Man took a bowl from the woman, Drifter thanked herself for finishing her lembas upon smelling the brew as she took out her carving to make the final adjustments. Moments later, her attention was once again brought back to the conversation next to her as Éowyn continued,

"My uncle told me a strange thing. He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather, but he must be mistaken."

"King Théoden has a good memory," the ranger verified. "He was only a small child at the time."

"Then you must be at least sixty!" At that, Drifter looked up to see Aragorn appear slightly embarrassed. "Seventy? You cannot be eighty!"

"Eighty-seven."

"You are one of the Dúnedain. A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race has passed into legend."

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

"Then, is Falathiel one of your kind as well?" Drifter jerked her head up at Éowyn's assumption. What made her think of something like that?

"Drifter is a ranger and a quarter elf, but she is not one of the Dúnedain."

"Elf? Well, that does explain allot. I'm sorry. Please, eat!"

Drifter narrowed her eyes at Aragorn. Who was he to go spreading information of her heritage around? And all because Gandalf couldn't keep his trap shut! All of a sudden, Éowyn once again broke through her barrier of thinking.

"Falathiel, may speak with you?"

"Of course, Éowyn," the girl replied with a forced smile. Once they were some ways away from anyone else, the king's niece went on.

"You are Falathiel?"

"Yes."

"Nearly my whole life, I thought that you were nothing by the main character of my uncle's bedtime stories…before Gríma poisoned his mind, of course. Every night, I would go to sleep hoping that I could one day be like you. You couldn't be more than twenty…but that's explained by the elf part."

"I am only a quarter elf. I do not have their immortality, and therefore, I cannot live an eternity with an elf. And if I fell in love with a human…I would have to watch him age and die before I even gained a streak of grey in my hair. That information is what I use to not completely break down over the losses of the two men I loved. No, Éowyn, you do not want to be me. Reclusiveness is my shelter, secrecy my food. All of this…your lifestyle…it's overwhelming for me to remain in for too long."

"Still…if you're old enough for me to not even remember you…how old could you possibly be? You must have some heritage of an elf's long life. Again, you could not be more than twenty." Drifter nervously laughed at the fact that she was in exactly the same position Aragorn had been in moments before. "Forty?" The ranger finally decided to play along as she put her carving back in her bag. "Seventy is impossible!"

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"Then you must be an elf, for older would be…well, impossible!"

"Once again, I do not have their immortality. Now, let me teach you a few cooking techniques I know." The diversion seemed successful.

After an hour of trial and error, the two women came up with a concoction which the people lined up for. When everyone had settled down, Éowyn once more spoke.

"My uncle told my cousin, brother, and myself of your amazing travels, but I'm sure that at least some of them are made up. He said that you were a Ranger of the North, that you lived in Rivendell."

"For a time."

"Aragorn said that he was raised there…"

"He saw nothing of me."

"Yes, well, my uncle also told of your grand adventures, traveling to the Misty Mountains, Gondor, the borders of Mordor, and here before going to the land of Lorien. How much of it is true?"

"All of it."

"But…"

"You win! Ninety-seven."

"I'm sorry. I must have heard wrong."

"I am ninety-seven years old."

"I thought you said…"

"…that I was not immortal, which is true, although I will not begin to age again for some time."

"Oh…"

Night soon came and Drifter wandered through the camp. Everyone was asleep, it seemed, though she was soon proved wrong as she spotted Aragorn sitting against his tent and smoking his pipe.

"I didn't see your tent, Drifter."

"I told them not to pack one," the woman replied, sitting down next to the Man. "It would have only weighed them down more."

"Drifter…" Aragorn acted as if he was at a loss for words, and that never happened. "I will always want to know who you are, but I also understand that you have been very…uncomfortable with my searching for answers."

"What do you want?" Drifter asked coldly.

"I just wanted to assure you that you will not have to worry about that any more. What I have discovered has made me understand at least partially why you guard your secrets so carefully."

"It's alright, Aragorn. Since Arathorn, your father, died…I simply wasn't able to tolerate civilization any more. I admit, I did live in Rivendell, Gondor, Rohan, and Lorien for certain amounts of time, but never too close to the general population. You know of the carving I have been working on?"

"You mean the one that you have been hiding since before Moria?"

"Yes, that one. I made it for you," she whispered, giving the Man a hand-sized horse carving of red wood. "A little puzzle for you to decipher." With a smirk, Drifter walked off.

(Aragorn)

He fingered the life-like figurine and wondered what sort of relationship Drifter had had with his father. In the dim light, only one of the many tiny elvish engravings could be deciphered: "Parn os Tael (Dawn of Men)."

(Ok, just had to do that quick segment…back to Drifter again)

Strolling to the outside of the camp, the woman closed her eyes, facing the cool breeze.

"Lorien." It was a name she had mentioned a few times in the past days, and yet, it seemed foreign to her tongue. In Rivendell, she accepted the elf who wooed her and he forgot her. Eventually, she accepted a Man of Gondor and he died. No one courted her in Rohan due to her isolated attitude at the time and, in Lorien…when she was still engaged to Legolas, it was just that which caused her to deny the elf there, but recently…the only real reason Drifter rejected Haldir was because she couldn't tolerate falling for another elf. Shaking her head, the ranger walked back into the camp. It was not the time to think of such things.

Morning came quickly enough as the people packed their things away and went on with their journey. Drifter clenched her jaw upon seeing Éowyn walk next Aragorn with their horses in front of her.

"Where is she?" the woman of Rohan was asking, motioning to the Man's elvish necklace. "The woman who gave you that jewel." The girl behind them relaxed when Aragorn did not immediately respond. "My lord?"

"She is sailing to the Undying Lands, with all that is left of her kin."

-No, Aragorn, don't think that-

Suddenly, Drifter sensed the presence of evil, running ahead to stand next to Legolas as he stared into the distance.

"You have been rather silent lately," she noted. The elf was about to say something in reply, but one of the Men who had ridden ahead was abruptly attacked by a Warg, a large dog-like creature. Racing to the remaining Man's aid and killing the animal, along with its orc rider, Legolas cried,

"A scout!" After running to the top of the next hill, the former lovers watched as a flood of Wargs ran towards them in the distance.

"And here I was thinking that this little adventure was getting a bit boring," Drifter lightly said, fitting an arrow to her already-strung bow. They each were able to kill two of the oncoming riders before their own warriors came from behind them. The girl glared at the elf as he lightly swung onto the horse Gimli was riding. Just as she began running towards the enemy, Drifter was grabbed from behind and flung onto the hindquarters of one of the other horses. Twisting around to a seated position, she realized that the Man in front of her was Aragorn. As the two forces neared each other, Drifter also noted that the safest place for her was definitely not on top of a horse. Nearly right after she had dropped onto the ground, the small armies collided. Of course, not being on one of the steeds did not mean that she didn't have plenty to do. In the space of but a moment, the woman had already downed three Wargs and their riders with her sword. After working her way to ledge of a cliff and hurling an orc into the river below, Drifter turned just in time to see another pair of foes rushing toward her. The only difference was that Aragorn was being dragged along. Though she drew a dagger, the ranger did not trust her throwing ability enough to risk hitting the Man. Suddenly the Warg picked up speed and hurled itself against her before tumbling off the cliff, taking Aragorn with it.

"ARAGORN!!!" she screamed, clinging to the rock and desperately fighting the urge to let herself drop. As Drifter silently scanned the two and a half foot length of sheer rock between herself and safety, she heard the sounds of battle die down. To pass the time, she looked below her in hopes of seeing Aragorn swimming in the river, but her search was in vain. Just as she was about to give up and release her grip, Théoden appeared on the outcrop above her.

(Legolas)

Taking the Evenstar from the dead orc's hand, the elf looked at the cliff to see Théoden kneeling at the edge.

"Legolas! Gimli! Help me!" the king called while reaching over the edge.

"What is it?" the elf asked, trotting over to the Man.

"What do you think?" an exasperated, yet clearly female voice asked from below. When Legolas looked down, he saw Drifter clutching to the rock while Théoden reached for her hand. For some reason, she was resisting the help.

"Drifter, come on!" the prince half-yelled, gripping the girl's wrist and dragging her up onto the grass.

"No!" Drifter shouted, rushing back towards the ledge, only to be held back by Legolas.

"Get the wounded on horses," Théoden was obliviously ordering his men. "The wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead. Come."

The remaining ranger, meanwhile, angrily shoved herself away from Legolas, walked ten feet away, drew one of her daggers, and viciously hurled it into a dead Warg a few yards further. After the weapon hit its mark with fearful precision, the woman threw herself onto the ground, screaming in frustration. With her petite body curled up on the rocky soil and the way she had dropped, her long, golden-brown hair was streaming out in front of her.

(Drifter)

Pushing herself into a kneeling position, Drifter stared blankly into the distance. She had failed in her promise to Arathorn: to protect the heir of Gondor's throne with her life. Now he was dead and she had no purpose left. The woman had always day-dreamed of what she would do with herself after her duties for Aragorn were fulfilled, but to have them taken away from her in one fell swoop…As her mind emptied in despair, Drifter remembered what it was like to be safe and in peace without a care.

As the woman calmly walked through the Golden Woods, she marveled at the beauty around her. The leaves were just beginning to fall, showing off the excellence of the forest's name. Suddenly, she found herself faced by a dozen or so arrows, along with their owners, the elves.

"Ai tysti ail vaeli eir ei thol os aelaer (I come in peace as a friend of elves)," she calmly stated, to which the guards replied by slowly lowering their weapons.

"Shai eisi o...sail os aelaer (Who are you...friend of elves)?" the leader asked with slight hostility.

"Ai eis cyrn shia talia bastaer ail talia valaer, sai os shos eisi Falathiel eil Poraes (I am known by many names in many places, two of which are Falathiel and Drifter)."

"Falathiel…" the lead elf hissed, once again pointing an arrow at the newcomer, followed by the others. "Aelaelael os eindrai, ei vasia os ael aezolaer thys Volaelaer shaesi ol saes shae caesi shael si shaesi eisteraer. Si basti shos shar maer eir sar os si colaes shar, ailaer, Falathiel (Eleven years ago, a party of eight exiles from Rivendell were on their way here when they were ambushed. The name which was spread as that of the killer was, indeed, Falathiel)."

"Ai por shar o mae… sher Ai talyr eirys sai paer ol air jhylaes sal Ai eilaedia cali. Ai mostia syl aezalia shar si myli thys ti: tia jhori (I did what you say…but I cannot afford to dwell on it longer than I already have. I simply took exactly what they stole from me: my life)." Drifter could tell that the elf was about to say something, but she interrupted, earning a few dropped jaws from her captors. "Pai byr sol sar Ai cali byr meraesaer thys air os pyl's vaendraer air. Aelaesia pae moli, Ai cali mael saes sysaelaer thalaer...ail tia paes, si cal ti, ail tia shajol, si mar ti. Pai byr bedi ti sai myl (Do not think that I have not suffered for it or don't regret it. Every day since, I have seen their tormented faces...in my dreams, they haunt me, in my waking, they stalk me. Do not judge me too soon)."

Clearly taken aback, the elf blinked a few times prior to saying,

"O cali shyl tia vaeraes thys byrn. Ai mar shol o shaerysi tia Jhadia (You have won my respect for now. I shall bring you before my Lady)."

--

"Lady Falathiel," the elf who had brought the girl to Galadriel an hour before addressed her as she stood on a balcony, overlooking the giant forest.

"Yes…my Lord? It seems you do speak a tongue other than elvish," Drifter replied with a small smile.

"The Lady Galadriel told me that you were a Ranger of the North. I thought it only respectful to speak in your common tongue."

"Actually, I have two common tongues: this one and elvish."

"…she also spoke of your heritage."

"Ah, well…I suppose I cannot object to the great Lady of Light's opinion."

"Even though you are only part elf…a full-blood elf-maiden's beauty does not compare with your own."

Drifter breathed a laugh.

"If you are going to court me, at least tell me your name."

"I am Haldir: marchwarden of the northern borders of Lorien."

"My close friends call me Lyn; however, I must warn you that I am already in love with another."

"May I reserve a place at your side if that love takes an ill turn?"

"Possibly…"

"Lyn…I also wanted to apologize for earlier. I did not realize the extent of your suffering and those elves' treachery until the Lady told me. They deserved death and you deserve mercy and protection."

"No apology is needed. I feel so safe here, Haldir. It almost seems wrong to live in such peace while my duties lie elsewhere."

"Rest here at least for a while. I will be your escort. It will give me an excuse to take a reprieve from my own duties." The new-found friends laughed together in perfect harmony. Drifter felt happier than she had ever been in Rivendell, it seemed.

"Drifter, we must go!" Legolas insisted, suddenly pulling the woman to her feet. Since most of the horses were dead, she was forced to share with one of the Riders.

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