Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. The only characters I own are those not found in any of his works.

A/N: Arnen has not been to Rivendell in many years. When she does get back (which will happen in this chapter, by the way) she will see that many things have changed…many things.

Heartfelt Goodbyes and Surprise Greetings

It was early morning when the rangers left Bree. No one came to see off these men (and one woman). It would be doubtful any would even if they knew the many times their homes were defended by these outcasts. But, a little soul rose early to sneak away so one last goodbye could be said.

"Hey now, look at this. We have a well wisher for our parting," Halbarad called to his nineteen companions.

Arnen looked at the little being that stood in the Road waving his arms excitedly. Clicking her tongue, she bade Voron to quicken his pace. Slipping from the back of her steed the young woman wrapped the little boy in her arms. His hug around her neck made her smile. She picked him up and spun him around before letting go. The little boy stumbled dizzily and laughed. His curly blonde hair was ruffled and his feet were bare due to the quick getaway from home.

Kneeling, she asked quietly, "Fastred, my friend, have you come to say goodbye?"

He nodded his head in response. Grinning proudly he stuck out his hand in which he held a gift. A small satchel gathered together at the top with a thin green ribbon was in his palm. One could tell the material of the bag was torn from some white clothing.

'Probably one of his shirts,' Arnen thought, wondering what was in store for him when his mother found out. But she stilled when she got a whiff of the scent coming from the little bag. She felt her eyes tear up as she gently took the gift from his hand. Cinnamon, he had brought her cinnamon. Looking into his innocent brown eyes she saw the joy he held in giving it to her. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as they spilled. Fastred's face fell.

"I am sorry. You do not like the gift," his voice was shaky and he held back tears.

Arnen pulled him into a tight hug.

"It is the best gift anyone has ever given me. I love it," her own voice was soft, as she tried to comfort the little one.

Fastred pulled back just enough so he could see her face but still be held. His miniature hands wiped the tears away. He smiled softly when he saw that her eyes were not sad but shining and bright. Placing a kiss on her cheek he stepped out of her arms.

"You smell like cimanon," (Arnen smiled at the childish mistake of pronunciation that she once made), "so I thought you would like to have the smell with you all the time. It is really pretty."

"It is," Elladan said behind Arnen.

The Bree boy looked up to see Elrohir and Elladan on their horses. Fastred walked over to the elves and asked, "Will you come again and visit?"

Elrohir leaned over to place his hand upon Fastred's shoulder. This answer was enough for him. Turning to the rest of the group, he puffed up his chest and said, "Thank you for everything. I say you are always welcome to Bree. No matter what anyone else thinks you are true friends and allies."

The men lifted their hands in thanks. All of them were amused by this boy Arnen had saved. Some whispered to one another of how he would grow to be an excellent man. They were grateful for his acceptance of them for there were not many left in Middle Earth that looked upon rangers kindly. Arnen knew of the men's gratitude, and she felt it herself. She was proud of Fastred for his statement. When she mounted her horse, Arnen looked down at him.

"I swear I'll come back to see you again."

"When?" was his childlike question.

She sighed, "Whenever Eru allows."

And with that the group left Bree to join the rest of the Grey Company.

T.A. September 22, 3018

Arnen lifted her eyes to the autumn moon overhead. She could see her breath swivel up from her lips as she crouched in the darkness. A watch was set up by the road at Sarn Ford, and she volunteered to be part. Nose numb and knees stiff she listened. Lagor was hidden somewhere to her right behind one of the few thick tree trunks. No noise came from where he was stationed as it should be. The silence, though, was not the kind any of them were happy to hear. The nightingale had abruptly stopped its song. Not one chirp came from the crickets, and all critters had stopped their stirring. The night seemed…dead.

There had been a warning given to all the rangers of the North. Beware of the night. The Nazgul were abroad. Arnen shivered. In all her studies with Lord Elrond one of her least favorite stories was that of the Ring-wraiths. The nine kings of men who fell to the Dark Lord. It was a sinister and piteous tale, one full of greed and things that made her ashamed of her people and their weakness. Arnen pulled away from those thoughts and concentrated on the inkiness before her.

'Wait, inkiness?' she thought. 'Was not the moon just…'

Indeed, Ithil's light was once bathing the road. Now clouds blocked him from view, and all was dark. Arnen let out a bird call to see if everything was alright for there was something cruel looming in the air. She was relieved to hear answering bird calls, but they held a different message. It was a warning, one that meant swords must be drawn. Slowly and carefully so the blade wouldn't make too much noise Arnen pulled Maebuian (S. I serve well) from its scabbard. If it was the Black Riders she knew that her sword would do her no good, so she readied her powers as well. There was a slight humming in her chest as she tried to focus herself. Suddenly, they came. A horrifying screech ripped through the air. Arnen felt her heart writhe at the tortured sound. More screeching pierced the night and the attack of the Ring-wraiths began.

She never felt such fear in all the battles she fought as she did in this one. These creatures were not like orcs. No, orcs were like children compared to these beings. They sat tall upon their midnight horses. Their dark robes were blacker than the night itself. All light was swallowed about them; a queer mist that seemed to fill all with dread that approached the riders was flowing from an unknown source. Arrows did not daunt them, no swords could stop them. Arnen saw the members of the Grey Company begin to turn and run. She was relieved that they had come to their senses. For how can you kill something that is not alive?

Arnen ran through the trees. She had stayed within their cover and shadow. Slowing for a moment, she watched the Riders again. Her breath was quaking, but she calmed herself and closed her eyes. The humming began inside her chest again. The metallic sound of scabbard sheathing sword sounded as she began her spell. Words dropped from her lips silently, and began to take form until she could feel warmth in her hands. Opening her eyes she looked with satisfaction on the blue and green flame. But when she lifted her head, she saw something that made her wish she was still running.

A Black Rider was riding towards her…fast. The creature stretched out his hand, and Arnen felt a cold fear paralyze her thoughts. He was riding closer. His sword was unsheathed, blood dripping from the blade. The sight of the blood caused Arnen to come back to her senses. He was the enemy and she was the only one that could slow him down if not stop him. So, she drew herself up from her cowering state and timed her next move. As if sensing her defiance, the Rider laughed.

"You can not triumph over me," his voice was shrill and cold.

Arnen made no response. Instead, she lifted her hands and sent the flaming ball towards the wraith and ran. From behind her she heard an abhorrent cry. The fire had made contact, but she did not look back to see if it had destroyed her enemy. When she heard hoof beats she decided that it had only slowed him down.

"Voron, to me!" she called out to her mount.

The faithful horse raced up from where she had set him. Arnen swung into the saddle quickly and rode as hard as she could. When she broke through the trees she could see her brothers in arms riding before her. None looked back, but she was stupid enough to do so. All Nine were riding in quick pursuit. The young woman hurriedly jumbled through her mind looking for something, anything to slow their chase. Spell after spell she threw their way, causing tree roots to spring up, the earth to jut out, and the waters of the Brandywine take out the bridge leading to Greenway after she crossed. They kept coming.

Arnen felt her strength draining. Looking ahead, she saw that the other horses were closer in view. At the moment, she wished for Elrohir or Elladan to be beside her, helping her even if they could not know her secret. But it was not to be. They were not with the Grey Company at the moment. Halbarad would have even been a welcome sight, but he was with the group of men before her. Just when she knew that if she had to cast one more spell she would probably slip into unconsciousness, Arnen was among the company. When they saw her they fell back and closed around from behind. All could see she was weak and knew that if they did not protect her she would fall behind and perish. They cared for her too much to allow that to happen. She was like a younger sister to them, and none wished to see her die. Her being the sister of their chieftain, Aragorn, did contribute to the fact also.

Halbarad knew they were coming to Greenway and that if they were driven any further they would either have to turn and fight or collapse. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Arnen being surrounded by some of the men. She was bent over in her saddle, stubborn as ever, trying to ride on. Halbarad slowed his steed enough so that he could be beside her. When she looked over at him he saw that her eyes were glowing. This took him aback. He always thought her eyes were odd, everyone thought so, but this sight made him nearly pause in wonder. The cry of the Ring-Wraiths prevented him from doing so. He glanced over his shoulder. There were only five pursuing them, but they were riding fast.

"Do not stop, Arnen," he commanded. "Ride, ride, ride."

Arnen's spirit lifted just enough for her to press on.

They rode without rest all that night. Anor rose in the east, but she did not shine upon the Dunedain for clouds blocked her from view. From time to time they were able to slip away and gain moments of rest during the day, but they would again hear the sounds of the black horses' hooves and be forced to ride. They were being driven farther and farther eastward. Arnen could not risk using her power among the men. She longed to, though, so she could help them. Time passed in the form of rolling hills beneath her. Before she knew it, the day was done. There seemed to be no end, and she just fell into a rhythm. Her body stopped protesting the harshness of the journey; it became numb.

Ahead Halbarad could see that they were going to approach the river Mitheithel in only minutes. But something suddenly caused him to stop. He could see the river. That meant that the moon was out. That meant…. He got down from Celemel.

Arnen looked over at him like he had gone insane. She and the others stopped accordingly and waited for an explanation. The leader of the Grey Company looked back and saw the Black Riders had turned around. They were heading back for the Shire. Arnen saw this also and slid from the back of her horse. Everyone else dismounted in like manner and contemplated what they should do next. Arnen watched Halbarad. He had slipped into that somber disposition she rarely ever saw him express. She advanced slowly.

"Captain?" she never used his title before.

Halbarad shook himself and looked in her questioning orbs. A heavy weight that had been on his shoulders lifted for a moment and he smiled at her. Placing his hand upon her cheek he said, "I fear for the little-folk. But there is nothing we can do now."

Arnen looked at her friend in worry. What would they do? Gandalf had charged them with the wellbeing of the hobbits, but this was a foe that none of them knew how to beat. Halbarad saw her worry and just kissed her forehead in response.

"We will wait, Arnen, for the answer. It will come," he looked to the men. "Now, five of you lead the horses to Mitheithel to be watered. Galnot, take a count of how many are lost. Rohdun, draw water from the river. Himellon, go and gather firewood."

"I will go with him," Arnen volunteered.

Halbarad stopped her. "No. You will stay here and rest. You need it."

He watched her puff up defensively.

"Just because I am a woman it does not mean that I cannot help or that I am wearier than any here."

Halbarad took her hand in his. Arnen tried to snatch it back, but his hold was firm and gentle. She glared at him. This made him chuckle softly.

"No, Arnen, you are not weaker than any of us. You may even be stronger in your own way. But, I will warrant if you tried to gather firewood right now you would collapse under the load."

His voice held no hint of teasing or mocking only…caring. Arnen just nodded and allowed herself to be led to a log. There he set her down and served her. When the fire was built and the food ready Halbarad placed a bedroll near it for Arnen. He saw that she was ready to fall asleep, but he shook her to wakefulness. Arnen looked at him with bleary eyes. Halbarad thought she looked lovely in this state. The firelight made her orbs glow. Drawing himself from such thoughts he handed her a bowl of stew.

"Eat before you go to sleep."

Arnen took the bowl from him and steadily fed herself. She saw the way Halbarad had looked at her. She had noticed more and more since spring settled upon the land. At first it alarmed her, and she would ask what was wrong. A few months ago she decided it was best not to ask that question. When she did he would stop looking at her; when he thought she couldn't see him he would do it again. That disturbed her more than the outright looks. Finishing her stew, Arnen sat up and stared into the fire. The flames were enchanting. They ended her thoughts about Halbarad, and she just began to sway instead. The camp was quiet besides the crackling of the blaze.

Then a sweet humming broke through the silence. Everyone stopped their dreary thoughts and gave ear to the song that was weaving in the night.

There is a light for all to see.
It's there in the dark of the Night.
Burning bright through all gloom,
It's there when battles we fight.

The voice was Arnen's. Hers was a rare one to hear among the camp, but when she did sing it was a delight. All the men closed their eyes and savored the sweetness of her voice. They were men after all, and the only time they heard a gentle voice was when Arnen chose to speak that way. It was a comfort to hear the song. One voice after another joined her.

Ever high and ever true;
Ever white and pure;
Ever there to guide the way
To help low spirits soar.

When our journey is hard
And life bears no hope
We look to that gleaming star
That is there so we may cope.

For men and elf alike
It is upon their hearts a seal
Reminding them, 'Never despair!'
Ride and shine Earendil!

A gentle wind picked up from the west. It held comfort for all. Those who were set on watch went to their posts with lighter hearts. When Arnen got up, Halbarad pulled her back down.

"You need to rest."

She looked at him gratefully and laid down to rest. Her last thoughts before drifting into a dreamless sleep were: 'I wonder what happens now?'

Arnen knelt by the river. The sun still was not over the horizon and all but the watch were sleeping. It had been a month since the attack on the Grey Company. No answer had come like Halbarad said one would. There was no answer in sight as far as they knew. They just sat and waited for word. They were close to Rivendell, a two day ride at most; why no one was sent, Arnen did not know. She was growing impatient…well…she had been impatient for almost the whole month of their stay near the river. Patience was not one of her reigning attributes.

She petted Voron's snout as he drank from the river. Wisps of dark hair swirled around her as a cool breeze greeted the sun. Setting her sword beside her she splashed her face with the crisp water of Mitheithel. It was a river she was familiar with for it flowed into Bruinen. Suddenly she felt a pain in her gut. At first she couldn't place it, but then she recognized the feeling. It was homesickness. Arnen nearly laughed. She hadn't felt homesick in years. Not since the first year of travel came and went. This would be her tenth year with the Grey Company of the Dunedain of the North. Ten years she had wandered the wild and trained. It had been ten years since she was this close to home.

Arnen dried her face with her shirt. She was happy that the tears were mingled in with the water used to clean her face. Closing her mind to all thoughts she just watched the sunrise.

Halbarad watched her kneel by the river. Her hair was loose and the breeze played with the midnight hued strands. His thoughts were dangerous ones to have for a ranger especially when they are towards the sister of a dear friend; especially when that friend is Aragorn. He knew the Chief of the Dunedain would not be very pleased to find out that someone who was entrusted with the care of one so dear to his heart had come to see her in a new light. Maybe it was when he first met her that these feelings began, he could not remember. All he knew was that they were there, and he had to do something about them.

When Arnen lifted her head toward the sun he resolved to step forward and tell her what he felt. But from behind he heard the hooves of two horses. Turning, he saw Elladan and Elrohir coming toward him.

"Mae Govannen, Halbarad," Elladan called out.

"Mae Govannen, mellyn," he replied not so happy to see the twins at the moment. Any other time would have been great for him. But now…not so much.

When the elves approached they did not dismount. Upon seeing Halbarad's question in his eyes Elrohir explained.

"We are delivering news to Aragorn. We can not stop long."

"Aragorn is in Rivendell?"

All three of them looked to Arnen who had joined their conversation.

"Mae-" Elrohir began.

"Aragorn is in Rivendell?" Arnen cut him off. She had not heard from Aragorn in nearly a year.

'Some brother,' she huffed.

Elladan knew her thoughts.

"Would you like to come with us? I know you are eager to see home again. Ada has not seen you in a while either. I believe it would do his heart good to receive a hug and hear your voice."

A huge smile spread on Arnen's face.

"But we must hurry," Elrohir added.

You did not have to tell her twice. The woman did not even bother to go back for her bedroll. She knew she would not need it. Placing her cloak around her shoulders and her blade at her hip, she mounted Voron. The twins laughed at her enthusiasm. With a salute to Halbarad they rode across the river. Arnen turned and said to her tutor and friend, "May our paths cross again soon."

Halbarad sighed when she turned away and splashed through the river.

"Soon, my Magien (S. sword woman). Soon, Ôl nín (S. my dream)."

There was a feast in order welcoming the guests of the house of Elrond, but Aragorn was pulled from it. The twins were back with tidings that he wished to hear. He walked down the corridor leading to Elrond's study. Hung on the walls were tapestries woven as only the elves could. There was such detail and preciseness he felt that he could walk into the wall-hangings. No battles were displayed in this hall. No, only peaceful scenes. A view of the Lorien of Valinor was one Aragorn favored. It reminded him of the place where he first saw Arwen. He shook himself before slipping into another daydream. He would have to reminisce later, now business was at hand.

Entering the study he saw the twins still in their traveling attire leaning against the cherry table that held their father's papers. They had been like brothers to him in his childhood so he was accustomed to their ways of mischief and that familiar sparkle in those identical grey eyes. Instantly, he knew something was amiss and became wary. Unfortunately he was not fast enough in his change because he found himself tackled to the ground from the side. When the initial shock wore off Aragorn realized what hit him.

A woman was hugging his waist hard enough to bruise him. Her dark hair was pulled back and her "silver-gold" orbs were shining. A flush could be seen on her tanned skin even though a mask the same dark grey of her cloak covered everything below her eyes. Once the ringing in his ears ceased, Aragorn could hear what she was saying.

"I swear if you leave me with those men like that again I will kill you! Dunedain or not, they are children, especially Halbarad…"

The amused Ranger lifted himself and his attacker from the ground as she continued her muffled complaints. Even when he removed her mask the criticism kept coming in a steady flow. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on her forehead that made her stop speaking and instead glare at him in mock scorn. Aragorn chuckled.

"Just remember, don't ever leave me behind again for such a long time. SEVEN years, you impossible man! And letters do not count. Gallivanting and tracking while I sit back wanting more cunning quarry than orc."

"I missed you, too, little sister."

"Little!" she exclaimed. "Have you become blind also? I have changed considerably since you last saw me."

Aragorn stepped back to better look at her. Her skin had grown darker than it's once alabaster look due to much exposure to the sun. He knew that the effect was permanent from experience. She was almost at his eye level and she had let her hair grow down to her waist. Constant weapon training had put strength in her stance. It may have been unseemly for most women but for Arnen it fit. There was also a small scar above her eyebrow. Unquestionably, she had changed.

As much as he would have loved to speak with his sister he knew it would have to wait.

"Besides the incompetence of my men, what news?" he addressed the twins.

Elrohir looked to Arnen making Aragorn turn to her. The happiness of her face had melted away; she was now somber. She dropped her head slightly. This made him wonder.

"Arnen?" He lifted her chin so he could see her face.

The woman closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then looking into her brother's clear grey orbs she began where she felt she should.

"We were attacked at Sarn Ford…"

"Attacked! When? By what force?" he interrupted her.

He saw her eyes become dark as she remembered everything. Pulling away from the past she said in a quiet voice.

"The Nazgul."