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CHAPTER 26: MAEVA'S PALE SKIN STOOD OUT SHARP…

Maeva's pale skin stood out sharp against the dark of the room. The heavy woodwork and thick drapes around the bed absorbed and softened Gilraen's sharp orders outside, managing villagers who were lost or without a task.

It was Gilraen that ordered Maeva to her private sleeping chambers, and made sure there was water and soup to strengthen the girl's nerves.

Rin listened to the warm sounds of the hearth. She felt the heat of the flames at her back. Fatigue came in the wake of warmth, but she ignored it, watching the girl facing her in the bed eat her soup. The saltiness seemed to ease her symptoms of shock somewhat, but she only ate a few spoonfuls. When she dozed off, her breathing slowed but was still too fast.

Rin stared at her friend. And she realised that she dared calling the girl her friend. It was strange to feel something like that again. A simple connection to another human being. A bond without a shared occupation or goal, like she had with the warriors of the Guard. This bond was simply about sharing thoughts, laughter, secrets, spending time in each other's company because it was pleasant.

Guilt crept up on her within the silence of the room. If she slew that beast sooner, Maeva would not be lying here.

The door opened and in swooped Gilraen with long purposeful strides. With a curt nod towards Rin she turned to the bed. "Come girl! Time to get up!" She shook Maeva who awoke with a shock from her slumber. Gilraen pulled her up into a sitting position, supporting her back with cushions.

Maeva was flustered, either by being awoken in such a rude manner, or by the fact that this was the wife of her Chieftain. Either way, she dared not look Gilraen straight in the eye and mumbled a quiet thanks.

Gilraen ignored her shyness and pushed the bowl of soup back into her hands. "Eat the soup, girl. You are not taking care of yourself properly. I need you to aid me downstairs. Mrs Viviane is out of her wits with all the dead and wounded."

This seemed to alarm Maeva and she looked worried all of a sudden. Colour heated up her cheeks and she ate her soup meekly. When she finished she seemed a lot better, although still unsteady on her feet. "Better?" Gilraen scrutinised her.

Maeva nodded, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, slowly standing up. Rin stood with her friend, arms already out to catch her if necessary. But despite a slight sway, Maeva seemed fine. Rin smiled at her. "There you go .. "

Maeva looked at her, really looked at her for a moment, her beautiful eyes large and calm. Then she lay her hands on Rin's shoulders. "Thank you."

Rin swallowed. "Don't thank me please."

Maeva smiled. "Why not? You saved my life. If not for you and Lady Gilraen, I would be dead now. I know this." And with a sudden spontaneity she embraced Rin tightly.

When Maeva turned back to Gilraen, the elder woman held up her hand. "Just see that Viviane is alright for me?"

Maeva nodded. She picked up her apron from the chair next to the bed and left the bedroom, closing the door softly.

Gilraen sighed and fell into a chair that stood next to the hearth, rubbing her belly. Rin frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Only a tight belly. It comes now and then and passes just as quickly."

"You pushed her deliberately to aid her recovery?"

Gilraen nodded slowly. "Yes. It is proven the best method to heal such a mental breakdown." She kept on rubbing her belly with a faraway and loving expression on her face.

"Ah! Come here! Here… put your hand here!"

She pulled Rin's hand towards her belly, closing her eyes. Any awkwardness Rin felt by the intimate gesture, dissolved when she felt warm movement beneath her hand.

"Do you feel him? Aragorn?" Gilraen's smile was all warmth.

"Yes…" Rin said breathlessly. The wonderment upon feeling life underneath her fingertips was all encompassing. For a moment time seemed suspended, as if the moment held a great purpose to it. Holding her breath, she felt the small body slip beneath her hand, until the moment passed.

Both women opened their eyes, staring at each other, flames warming their faces.

Gilraen released the breath she was holding and whispered. "You know, my father was against my marriage with Arathorn."

"He was?" Rin frowned. What story was this?

"He thought me too young. Arathorn is 15 years older than me. Out here, in the North, my people experience hardship. We are tough, and know how to endure, but death comes for us at an early age. My father's love for me made him oppose my marriage, in fear of his daughter being widowed too soon."

"What did you do?"

"I was devastated. I loved him so much. We had met and fallen in love at the harvest feasts, and kept on meeting each other under the cover of every night. Often only talking, sometimes to steal kisses." She smiled softly. "He was so very handsome!"

Rin laughed. "Dark and mysterious?"

"Indeed!"

"How did you get what you wanted?"

"I did the only thing I could think of. I confided in my mother, Ivorwen. "

Absentmindedly, Rin grabbed a log from a pile near the hearth and added it to the dying embers, using a heavy black poker to stir the flames back. "Did she talk some sense into her husband then?"

"Well. She was a very special woman, my mother. It was said she had some elven blood. Either way, I had put the fate of our union in her hands at a council meeting. And there, she spoke these words of foresight: 'If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts'."

Rin stared at her and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"And this is what I feel each time my son moves underneath my heart - hope."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Raithon listened to the sounds of the land around him and contemplated his predicament. The mortals he travelled with were intimidated by his presence, which suited him, for he did not need distractions while sensing his surroundings.

He knew with certainty that his knowledge on hunting and tracking would be lacking, for the sons of Elrond were notoriously hard to find in the wilderness. To attempt such a venture with a group of mortals in his wake, would be folly.

He turned in the saddle to glance at them, considering. The leader of the group, Halbaran was an earnest looking man with grey eyes and dark short hair. He was tall like his kin and he seemed intelligent. Raithon learned he was one of the leaders of a group of rangers from a village further up north.

Halbaran was quick to anger, Raithon noticed, but the men respected him, even the ones that Raithon knew to be from Arathorn's village. He presented himself humbly to Raithon who nodded his head in respect. A humble mortal then, a leader of men, but of lower rank. He wondered what lineage this Halbaran had, his thoughts retracing his memory towards the dark days of Angmar.

Halbaran caught his eye and called; "Master Raithon, what strategy would you recommend? I heard you say that you are familiar with the terrain here and the enemy." His voice was deep and warm.

Raithon fell back easily. "Please, call me Raithon. I am but a humble warrior of the Guard."

"Raithon then." Halbaran said thoughtfully.

"I think we should follow the trail of the scouts, not of Elrond's sons. Despite your skills as rangers, I fear their tracks will be too hard to find."

"I have heard stories of these Lords and their mastery of battle and stealth."

Raithon smiled carefully. "Indeed they are legendary, even among our kin. As is their rage."

Halbaran stared ahead in the distance. "Is it true then, that they are ruled by rage and revenge? I have heard such stories. But it is hard to see them in that light when they interact with my people. They seem truly like the Princes of the Noldor of old, in appearance and demeanour."

"You should ask their enemies if you find one alive."

A young ranger with sand coloured hair that had been riding far in front of the company changed places with one of the others. He reined in his horse until he rode next to Halbaran and Raithon.

"And?" Halbaran asked not unkindly.

"We are still on track as far as I can see."

"Good. Find some breakfast with Hallard."

The young man cast a sidelong glance to Raithon, blushing when he returned his gaze. With a quick movement, he urged his horse to catch up with the one called Hallard.

"They are very nervous with an Elf present in our midst. I hope they will not insult you."

"Fear not, Halbaran. I am at your service here. They do not owe me respect nor friendship. I merely wish to find your people." But Raithon noticed that only this young man kept glancing at him, the blush never leaving his cheeks.

"Yes…" Halbaran said slowly, staring in the distance, his hand held up to block the sun in his eyes. "And how do you propose we find them out there? How can we outsmart our enemies?"

"I think my opinion differs little from yours. We should track down the young scouts by retracing their path. As for Elladan and Elrohir, we cannot be certain, but I think they might have checked on the younglings when their work was done. Rin was concerned by their age and inexperience. They will share that concern and reassure themselves that they returned home safely."

Halbaran nodded in thought. "I see. The lady does not only have a stout heart, but a caring one as well."

Raithon simply nodded.

"We need to look out for the Warg."

Halbaran agreed grimly. "Indeed. A troublesome turn of events. I encountered one several months ago and it was disturbing to say the least. My people live further up north at the borderlands and it is not uncommon to face the new creations of the evil hiding in those mountains. But it is the intelligence of the beasts that has haunted my steps. I dread the news that you have brought to us."

"At least the enemy has made himself known and it has shown us what it desires."

"Which is?"

"Revenge. Revenge on the Sons of Elrond and the heir of Isildur."

Halbarad looked shocked for a moment, his face pale. Then he said darkly. "I see. They will find that revenge comes at a high price, even for orcs."

And with those words he barked several orders to his men and they upped the pace, to reach at least two villages by daylight..

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The great hall had been turned into a small hospital. Rin followed Gilraen back towards the busy heart of the village. Many wounded were treated there, several women were feeding hungry men and children with porridge and soup.

Gilraen plonked Rin in a chair next to a large kettle of soup and took the spoon from the woman dishing out bowls of soup. "You go help Nineveh, Sana! I can do this."

The woman hurried away and Gilraen poured Rin a steaming hot bowl of what seemed to be a simple vegetable soup. But it was hot and salty and Rin ate gratefully. Her eyes wandered while Gilraen set to work.

In the midst of the activity within the centre of the hall, she noticed Arathorn, standing deep in concentration, operating on a young ranger. His grey eyes were stern and hard. Short demands were shot at an assistant who kept the patient in a slumber. She kept pouring a blue liquid, drip by drip into his mouth.

Rin stared. The operation nauseated her, but the sight held her eyes captive. She had assumed that such a wound would be fatal in this world. Either because the operation would be too difficult and the patient had to undergo it without anaesthetics, or the infection would be the cause of death since there were no antibiotics available. But here under her nose, a complex operation on the abdomen was apparently worth the effort and the risk. She assumed Arathorn would not attempt it, were it futile.

When he was done he gave directions to bind the wounds then walked towards his wife. With some relief in his eyes he embraced her with one arm, kissing her cheek. "You all right, my love?"

It was not for her eyes, but Rin smiled to herself. They seemed to love each other truly. Gilraen nodded, then poured her husband a bowl which he took in gratitude.

He looked tired, the lines etched in his face seemed more pronounced than when Rin met him first. He nodded at her: "I believe I am in your debt Mylady. I thank you for saving my wife and child."

Rin swallowed. "I think you are mistaken. It was Lady Gilraen that did the saving. You have a very brave wife, my Lord."

A glint of some emotion flitted through his eyes. "Very brave or very foolish. I am still not sure."

Rin smiled. "I think that applies to all of us, don't you think?"

Arathorn sighed and stared around him in the hall. "I think that might be the case, yes. Luck plays an important role and can make a fool a hero. But I feel that our luck thins with each passing minute. I worry for my people and my wife and child."

When Rin attempted an answer a horn sounded in the distance. It was a high pitched sound, but she recognized it for what it was. Arathorn looked troubled. His hand reached for his sword.

"The enemy is here!" his face contorted in anguish for a moment and he grabbed Rin's arms, staring into her eyes intently. "Stay here and guard them! See them safe!"

Rin fell silent at his urgency. Did he feel something?

He shook her, more angry now than worried: "Promise me!"

"I will guard them with my life. And see them safely to Rivendell."

Satisfied, he raised his voice and shouted orders. He turned one last time towards Gilraen, pressing his forehead against hers, their lips brushing, while he whispered urgently. His hands caressed her belly for a moment. Automatically, Gilraen's hands folded over his, and the tender sight made Rin swallow back tears.

Then, Arathorn released his wife with effort and led his men out. He did not look back.

Rin watched his departure and not for the first time she wondered if her arrival here had altered the course of things. Why was she here, helping these people, while the twins were missing? The little details on Aragorn's birth story that she did know, involved the brothers in the defence of the heir of Isildur. And that knowledge made her feel lacking.

With a sigh, she poured her soup back in the kettle, handing the bowl back to Gilraen.

Gilraen's hand grasped her wrist, pulling to catch her attention. Her eyes were determined. "No. Don't you dare listen to him. You are too valuable a warrior to stay here with the women and children. Our loved ones are fighting an enemy worse than any we have seen in the past decades. You are needed."

Rin stared into her eyes and felt doubt. She was alone. What if she died? What would then become of Gilraen? Maeva? And Aragorn? All was for nothing if that happened. But she was a better fighter than most here in the village. She knew that for certain. She could make a difference.

She made up her mind. "I will fight for now. But when things become critical I will come for you. Stay here, so I can find you."

Gilraen nodded, relief clear on her face. "I will prepare for a quick departure."

Then a moment of understanding passed between the women, but there was no time for more words.

Xxxxxxxx

The village was in silent uproar, movement everywhere, running women and children carrying things or animals. Men ran in the opposite direction, armed to the teeth, heading towards the desperate sounds of the horns.

Rin hurried to the outskirts of the village where forest met fields. Panting, she stared at the dark shadows underneath the trees. The horns sounded louder here, but another sound scraped alongside it; the howling of wargs.

Around her the chaos of assembling men suddenly succumbed to order and she knew Arathorn was in sight. She turned to watch his approach. His expression was grave and his grey eyes found Benran first, a question in them already.

The company around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting for their Lords' instructions. Rin noticed the cautiousness of the Dúnedain. No man was impulsive enough to blindly chase after the sounds in the woods.

It was not Rin's preferred tactic, to wait for your enemy. She rather reversed the hunt, to gain some control over the situation. But she imagined that rooted people like these would trust in their foundations and strength like nothing else. The howling grew worse, ragged shreds of sound, piercing through the forest. The human shouts became more clear, and grew closer with each breath.

Benran and Arathorn spoke softly and urgently and then Arathorn's eyes fell on her. He frowned, silencing Benran. But when he opened his mouth the atmosphere around them changed abruptly and Rin had no time to feel guilt.

Silence fell, the stillness heavy on her eardrums.

All stared at the forest intently, willing its secrets to appear. But nothing did. The large pine trees did not even sway. No leaf moved, no grass culm bent in the wind. A few moments it seemed as if the land held its breath.

And then with increasing urgency, wind picked up. The noise of it, beating through leaves and branches, scrambled her thoughts and she felt her hair move. Dark clouds hurried above the treetops.

She unsheathed her katana softly. The tsuba firm against her thumb, the weight a pleasing reacquaintance as if with a long lost friend. She took a deep breath. She could not let her guard down, behind the Wargs, Gorchak might be the one within the shadows.

Then with a shout, two scouts ran into their line of sight, their shapes releasing themselves from the dark hem of the woods. The men around her started to shout as well, many running to meet them in the field.

And then everything happened all at once.

Arathorn yelled her name, but was cut off. Out of the darkness underneath the eaves, wargs spilled, running at high speed, throwing themselves at the men. Sprays of blood, the ring of metal against metal, chaotic yelling. Somebody shot past her, hit her shoulder and made her stumble. The ground seemed to shiver for a moment and the increasing tremor told her that a large host was approaching.

A flash of armour at the end of the field. A body fell to the ground next to her and then a Warg came running straight at her at full speed. She barely had time to react until it was almost too late. A foul breath and snapping white teeth. She yelled, slicing blindly in front of her. A loud battlecry sounded next to her and Arathorn managed with one mighty blow to almost sever its neck.

He stared at her bewildered. His eyes wide and white, he yelled at her; "Rin! Flee! Find Gilraen! Save … " He was cut short by another Warg sinking it's teeth into his shoulder. Others came to his aid, swords at the ready.

For a split second she hesitated. She was a better fighter than most of the men here. She could make a difference. But Gilraen would be defenceless against these numbers. With reluctance she turned and ran with all her might back to the central house in search of the red-haired woman.

Instead of running towards silence, the battle haunted her steps and she realised that the village was already overrun by the enemy. Panic surged through her. Why had she been trying to play the hero? She should have stayed with Gilraen!

Rin gasped when a large orc barred her way, his face grey and glistening with sweat. The smell he emanated was suffocating. But with determination she ended him by splitting his head open. The black blood was oozing like honey from her blade, but she had no time to clean it.

She heard metal ringing behind her, but Rin feared to turn. Jumping over the body, she ran further, until the central house came into view. To her dismay she realised the large wooden doors stood ajar and the guards were gone. Her breath caught in her throat! No! Was she too late?

Inside was a gruesome sight; several women lay slain on the ground and in the far corner, Gilraen stood in front of several others, a sword that was too heavy for her holding out before her. Panic was evident in her face. The women and children behind her were crying and shouting in fear, cowering behind her.

Rin felt her anger propelling her forward. With a vengeful cry she jumped at the creature and cut its legs from underneath it. It shrieked horribly until she silenced it with another blow.

Relief spread through the group of women and children and Gilraen turned immediately to speak calming words.

"Gilraen! We need to go!"

She turned towards Rin and fear was in her eyes. "I .. cannot!"

"You must! For Aragorn!"

"I cannot leave them! I cannot leave Arathorn!" she wrung her hands in front of her belly in desperation: an impossible choice.

It was then that the doors to the hall closed with a loud bang. They turned towards the sound, expecting orcs and Warg inside the hall. But it was a small group of men, including Darian and Maeva. They seemed high on adrenaline, but a graveness clung to them that made Rin weary.

Darian walked reluctantly towards Gilraen and bowed his head before her. Unable to speak. And Rin knew what it was that made him hesitate. She sighed in defeat.

Gilraen stared at him, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes looked tired all of sudden.

Her voice was vulnerable and barely loud enough to hear. "Speak, Darian." She took a hesitant step forward, and with her eyes closed, her hands involuntarily found her belly, caressing the unborn hope of her people. "Although I can feel the news you carry in my heart already."