Chapter 15
The arrival of the Dúnedain came with the torrent of spring rain. For a long week, wind howled down from the mountains with gushing creeks and springs swollen with ice melt. Savage gales torn leaves from the golden wood along with small branches creating piles of refuse against the new bracken sprouting up all over the wood. The Galadhrim, wrapped in their cloaks, grew accustomed to getting soaked to the skin on every watch. Dreary hours passed as few friends or enemies stirred in the foul weather. Until one day, a figure appeared standing solitary in the lashing downpour of a late afternoon.
Orophin saw the figure first. He blinked, where had the man even come from? Nothing in the past hour had alerted him to the presence of others. Yet here was a tall man, wrapped in an oil clothe cloak, staring toward the Golden Wood. In a smooth motion, Orophin dropped from his perch and ran along connecting branches until he could give the alert signal to his watch partners. The signal was a woodland sound, nothing to alert or alarm any who it was not meant for. Orophin passed his hand over his long face to rid it of the whipping rain and examine the visitor more closely.
Edain, that was no doubt, but not the common folk who skirted the wood in fear. This one stood stock still and firm, his face concealed in his hood, but his hands resting on the pommel of a great sword thrust into the damp earth. Behind him, Orophin heard the faint sound of his partners arriving.
"What have we here?" Gault whispered as he crouched beside Orophin.
"One of the Dúnedain, I'll wager" Orophin answered, "None stand so bold near our borders as their kind."
Haldir, the last to arrive, looked over their shoulders and nodded grimly, "Aye, Dúnedain for certain. It is one of their captains if not their warlord himself."
"We did expect them," Gault said faintly glancing at his Marchwarden. Haldir's face was steely.
"We did," the Warden nodded, "Do we know their numbers? No doubt he did not come alone."
"I have yet to ascertain that," Orophin admitted in an irritated tone, "He appeared as if he sprang from the ground."
"A human got the drop on you?" Gault asked his voice mildly amused. Orophin's expression was soar.
"It shall never happen again, I assure you," the blond elf whispered. Haldir nodded to his brother and the lanky elf disappeared into the nearby foliage.
Haldir and Gault observed the still figure in the glade as Orophin made his way over the surrounding area in deadly silence. There were few who were known for their skill at stealth, but Orophin certainly was. His slim build and long limbs meant he could cover ground others could not. Despite knowing his brother was making an assessment of the new arrivals, Haldir could barely tell where his younger brother as until he reappeared, out of breath and completed drenched.
"They have a company of eight," Orophin said, "Including our friend out there. Men and a few women, all rangers and armed. None with weapons drawn and no bows strung. They do not come for war."
"Rangers do not need weapons for war anymore than we do," Haldir said grimly. His eyes were black in the afternoon gloom, "They come for the princess, no doubt."
Orophin said nothing, but looked in silence at the tight expression on his brother's face. Haldir's jaw was set and a hard line drew his brow's together as he watched the man below. Surely there was another storm raging inside that enigmatic face.
"We must send word to Caras Galadhon," Haldir said finally, "Alert the Lord and Lady of the arrival of the Dúnedain. I shall approach their leader and from there we shall see what errand brings them to our wood. We must be sure of them before we mention the Princess Gilraen. Gault, carry this news to the Lord and Lady, Orophin, bring reinforcements. We cannot treat these rangers as common folk if they are able to slip through our guard so easily."
Gault gave a curt nod and was gone. Orophin placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder, "It grieves me to see them. No doubt they do come to claim the Princess."
Haldir shrugged off the kindly gesture and said, "This has nothing to do with me, brother. It is the duty of the Edain to care for their own, and if the Dúnedain had not sought after her, I would think less of them than I already do."
Orophin said nothing. Haldir had slipped the mask of responsibility over his expression so there was little clue as to what he was feeling. It was the same guise, Orophin had seen on his brother's face since the day they learned of their parent's death hundreds of years ago. Disassociation and duty had fallen on his young shoulders that day and had been Haldir's default hundreds of years since.
Instead, the two of them dropped from the perch they occupied and began their silent approach. The rain was excellent cover for their movements, but soon they broke the tree line. Their presence was noted instantly by the tall ranger, who barely shifted his stance, but raised his right hand in greeting, his left hand still firmly on the pommel of his blade.
"Mae Govannen," he said. His voice was deep and resonate through the wind and rain.
Haldir placed his right hand over his heart and bow slightly, "Gi suilon,"
"I come in answer to a missive from the Marchwarden of your realm, sent this autumn passed. I would speak with him." The ranger raised his hand and pushed his hood back from his face revealing a stern set of features and a shock of black hair. Rain immediately began to soak into his head as he waited for Haldir's reply.
"Before we grant you entry to our land, what name do you travel by?" Haldir asked.
"Arathorn, ruler of the Dúnedain, heir of Isildur." His eyes flashed like ice through the gloom.
"We bid you welcome," Haldir gestured toward the wood, "Come, bring your company."
Arathorn did not ask how Haldir knew of his other rangers. Instead, he signaled to them and they melted out of the surrounding landscape as silently as the Galadhrim might have done. They encircled their leader and the two elves instinctively as they crossed the cleaning of land and under the canopy of the Golden Wood. High overhead, Haldir knew the other Wardens would be mentoring the new arrivals and the safety of the situation from a distance. But there would no danger from these travelers. Not yet, at least. They were here on a peaceable mission.
Then Haldir's mind went to Gilraen. Would she be made aware of Arathorn's coming? Did she already know? He wished he would be the one to tell her.
Soon they reached the cover of an outpost flet near the border and everyone welcomed the shelter from the pounding rain and the heat of a low burning brazier. Haldir and Arathorn naturally moved to the side to converse quietly.
"I have sent word to my Lord that you are here," Haldir explained, "We have been anticipating a message if not a visit from your people."
"I came as soon as the mountain passes were open," Arathorn answered with a nod, "It was a long winter."
"Yes," Haldir once more touched his hand to his heart, "I am Haldir of Lorien. I believe you have more questions for me?"
"Ah yes," Arathorn's eye lit, "Is the woman Hylin still amongst you?"
"She is, but" Haldir lowered his voice, "She has revealed her true identity to us. We know her to be the Princess."
A wave of relief flashed briefly over Arathorn's face before it vanished. He clenched his jaw and nodded, "It is as I had hoped. I owe you a debt for guarding her all these months."
Haldir shook his head, "It was the pleasure of my Lord and Lady to offer her protection."
"When may I see her?" Arathorn pressed.
"Allow us to offer you a place to rest tonight. It is late and I have already sent news of your arrival to my Lord. Night will fall long before we reach the heart of the wood so you might as well rest." Haldir said reasonably.
"I had hoped to assure myself of her safety personally," the Dúnedain ranger said quietly, "She is my responsibility."
"I can guarantee her safety, Lord Arathorn," Haldir said tightly.
"No doubt," Arathorn's eyes slid away from the elf and scanned the assembly around him as if sizing up the chance of getting by them. Haldir followed his gaze and his face became grim
"I would counsel you not to go straying through the wood," Haldir said. His eyes locked with Arathorn's, "My wardens are most faithful and follow my commend without question."
Arathorn's gaze was flinty, "But of course, my company and I will remain here. However, carry a message to your Lord and Lady. I will see the Princess tonight. Break of day, or middle of the night, I will see my wife."
Gilraen woke with a start. Sleep had just tricked her to rest when something snapped her awake. Outside the soft evening song lilted on the air, the sound that she fell asleep to nearly every night. The rain had abated, but left the wood drenched in fat, jeweled drops dripping from every tree and branch. A cool breeze wafted the curtains and Gilraen felt the draw to leave her warm bed and stand looking over the hushed wood. Something was-different. Not wrong. Her heart wasn't clanging with warning of some danger nearby, but of a change.
"You're awake," Roswyth said relieved, "Come."
"What is it?" Gilraen answered allowing the elleth to slid a shawl around her nightgowned shoulders.
"We are summoned by the Lord and Lady," Roswyth said in breathless tones, "We do not make them wait."
"No, of course not," Gilraen nodded excitement rising in her chest, "Do you know why they are calling for us now?"
"Not for me, child, for you," Roswyth corrected herself, "I am to accompany you."
"Oh."
Gilraen followed the elleth from the room, each of them slipping on light shoes before descending the long staircase that ringed their home tree. Below several of the Galadhrim waited to escort them to the royal abode. A quick glance at their faces showed her they were all strangers. No doubt personal guards to the ruling family. Without a word, they took places before and behind the two women as they lead them deep into the heart of Caras Galadhon. The splendid residence of the powerful elvish Lord and Lady. Gilraen had only ever seen it from a distance, heavily guarded and elusive. Now she was summoned to appear.
But why now? What had caused the change in the air? What was so vital that she was woken from her sleep to come before the Lady as night deepened?
"When we come to the chamber, you must lower your eyes," Roswyth was saying, "You need not bow, as you are royal yourself, but—it is difficult to behold them at first. Especially the Lady."
"Difficult?" Gilraen asked in a panicked whisper, "What do you mean?"
"Lady Galadriel has seen the Light of the Two Trees," Roswyth said in reverent tones.
"Oh, that explains everything," was the confused reply. Roswyth opened her mouth to answer when they arrived at the flet in question.
Light flooded everything. High, soft silver light seemed to glow from the very construction of the residence as naturally situated in the tops of the trees as if it had grown there from the beginning of time. The design of every addition followed the sacred geometry of the elvish tradition to blend with the natural, harmonize with it. Gilraen's heart fluttered in her breast. This was an ancient and regal place. A place of Kings.
"And I thank you for it," a deep voice carried into Gilraen's thoughts and she snapped back to the moment, "But the time has come for her to rejoin her people."
Gilraen started. She knew that voice from—somewhere. It was clearly a Edain voice, but not one she knew well.
A low murmured reply was lost to her hearing as they rounded a corner and came into sight of the grand receiving area. Gilraen nearly gasped aloud.
Two beaming figures stood upon a dais dressed head to toe in shimmering silver and white. Long golden hair flowed form Galadriel's head, crowned with a mithril circlet that matched a simple band that rest on Celeborn's brow. The Lady's eyes fell upon Gilraen and suddenly the girl knew what Roswyth had meant. There was no looking into those ageless eyes that reflected a curious light without feeling, knowing that there were no secrets to the kept from that knowing gaze. Gilraen forced her eyes down from the brutal, raw power that beamed from Galadriel's not unkindly face.
"Ah," Celeborn said as he saw Gilraen and Roswyth enter, "Here is the lady in question. Gilraen, princess. Come and see who is here for you. Come child, your betrothed is here."
It could not be!
But there, as Gilraen dragged her eyes up stood the tall, rugged figure of a Dúnedain ranger, his hood thrown back off his jet black hair, his eyes giving nothing away, set above a grim mouth shadowed by close cut beard. Her eyes meet his and he instantly bowed, a hand over his heart.
"Princess," he said.
"My-my Lord Arathorn," she gasped. And fainted.