Chapter 16

Arathorn's breath caught in his chest the instant Gilraen had entered the room. Clad in nothing but a thin, white nightgown and shawl, her skin flushed with disturbed sleep, she was beautiful. Her heavy braid resting over her shoulder and against her breast where she clutched her shawl, made her look shockingly young and vulnerable. Wonderfully alive.

He sought her eyes, but she was overcome by the sight of the Lady on the dais. By the time Gilraen realized he was in the room, her expression had changed to one of stunned dismay.

As Gilraen's eye sild upward in a faint, Arathorn and Haldir moved simultaneously to catch her. But it was Roswyth's capable arms that caught the senseless girl before she harmed herself in a fall. A swift glance passed from elf to man before Arathorn thanked the elleth and gathered Gilraen into his arms.

"Take her to my chambers," Lady Galadriel directed to Roswyth. Roswyth nodded silently and lead the man carrying his precious burden to another room. The Lady's ageless eyes settled on Haldir and she gave a subtle shake of the head not to follow. Only centuries of training held him to that spot as the trio vanished down a passageway.

"Husband," she turned to Celeborn, "I will entertain our guests if you would be so kind as to look after the young one. I fear she was overcome with shock."

Celeborn bowed his head and to swept from the room after the commander of the Dúnedain. The tall woman, sever-faced and hard-eyed stepped forward, "My Lord's bodyguards will attend them as well. Reed, Yost," she called over her shoulder and two rangers peeled away from the bunch, "Be sure the Lord and his lady want for nothing."

Celeborn sized up the two, a young man with chestnut curls and the other a grey-haired veteran and nodded briskly, "Follow me," he invited.

Lady Galadriel watched them leave the room and turned her gaze briefly on Ygerna, "Fear not for your Lord," she said kindly, "No harm shall come to any of you here."

"Be that as it may, lady," Ygerna answered, "We must be about our duty."

Galadriel inclined her head in assent as Ygerna cast one lingering glance down the corridor where the others had vanished. She was worried about where her Lord had gone. But she turned and melted back into the remaining cluster of the Dúnedain retinue.

In the Lady's chamber, Roswyth found a long chaise and motioned for Arathorn to lay the unconscious princess down. His expression was reluctant, but he tenderly positioned her head on a soft cushion easing her limp figure down. A moment later Celeborn entered with two of the Dúnedain rangers in his wake.

"She is breathing naturally," Roswyth assured the young warlord, "She will come around in a moment."

"It wasn't my intent to upset her," Arathorn said, his voice gruff. His bodyguards moved to stand on either side of him.

Celeborn apologized to Arathorn as he felt for her pulse, "It would have been a surprise to her either way. We had no hint of your arrival."

This last was said with a note of admonition. Arathorn's eyes threw a biting glance at the Silver Lord of Lorien, but he said nothing as Celeborn nodded his head over Gilraen and agreed with Roswyth's assessment.

"She will awaken presently."

Arathorn's tense shoulders eased ever so slightly at this news. He nodded to his fellows and said, "I will take myself away. She has had enough upset for one evening and I do not wish to distress her further. I shall see to my people and speak to her on the morrow."

"If it is your wish," Celeborn acquiesced.

Arathorn gave him a terse nod, one final glance at Gilraen and swept from the room. His bodyguards on his heels.

On the lounge, Gilraen stirred slightly. Her eyelids fluttering in the soft light of the Lady's private rooms. She focused on Celeborn's kindly face in confusion and then realization as she looked where Arathorn had stood with Reed and Yost a few moments ago

"It was not a dream," she asked feebly.

"Not a dream," Celeborn answered, "But enough to cause you to faint."

Roswyth entered bearing a tray in her hands a glass and a decanter of some liquid set upon it, "You gave us a fright, child," the elleth said gently, "I did not know you would be so overwhelmed."

"I didn't know he would be here," Gilraen said breathlessly.

"We should have warned you what to expect," Celeborn replied, "I am sorry."

Celeborn stood and took the tray from the elleth and moved away as Roswyth helped Gilraen to a seated position. The lord poured her glass of some golden liquid into the cut glass.

"Come and drink this, it will revive you," he offered.

Gilraen took the glass in her hands. It was filled halfway by some fragrant liquor with a head aroma. She swirled the golden fluid around in the glass and it shimmered strangely. No doubt it was strong and effective.

"Where is he?" she asked in a whisper.

A look was exchanged between Lord and elleth.

"He is with his company," the elleth replied delicately.

"Not to return until tomorrow," Celeborn added.

"No," Gilraen licked her lips, "No, where is he? Where is Haldir?"

"Aha," Celeborn's tone was suddenly awkward, "I shall go see if my Lady needs me. Do drink that," he nodded at the glass, "Twill help you sleep tonight."

Roswyth and Gilraen was alone.

"He knows he is here, yes?"

"Of course," Roswyth answered, "Haldir escorted the party through the wood himself."

"I don't remember seeing him," Gilraen said rubbing her cheek then laying the same hand on her chest to calm her breathing, "I cannot believe Arathorn is here."

"Didn't you think he would come to find you?" Roswyth quizzed, "He is your promised husband."

"That feels so long ago," Gilraen murmured.

"From the look of concern on his face when he carried you here," Roswyth shook her head, "It was not long ago for him."

Gilraen looked into her friend's eyes and saw she spoke truly. Roswyth pressed the glass into her hand.

"You really should drink that."

"I need to speak to Haldir."

"He will be preoccupied with our visitors," Roswyth explained, "But I will tell Gault or one of the others to tell him you wish to speak to him. But not tonight. Tonight, you must rest. I fear you will have little sleep soon enough."

Gilraen lifted the fine glass to her lips and drank the cool elixir in a few swallows. It was tingly on the tongue, sweet and mellow. She shivered down to her bones as it traced a warm trail down her throat.

"What is that?" she asked holding the empty glass away from her.

"Elvish wine," Roswyth said ruefully, "And that is all your little Edain body can handle. You will see in the morning."

"I cannot possibly sleep," Gilraen argued standing to gather herself together. She swayed and caught herself with a hand on the chaise, "Oh dear."

"Oh dear, indeed," Roswyth smiled a small, mirthful smile, "Come, you sleep here tonight under the direct guard of the Lord and lady."

"And Lord Arathorn? Where does he sleep?"

"He may sleep in the dirt for all I care," Roswyth said suddenly amused, "Imagine arriving to the woods of Lothlorien without a warning? Did he expect a warm welcome?"

Gilraen, lightheaded and suddenly filled with merriment laughed as she leaned on her friend's arm. The two made their way to a guest corridor and a waiting room for the night.

"Did you expect a warm welcome?" Arathorn asked Ygerna in an assumed tone.

The captain was pacing in the glade where the Dúnedain had been made welcome for the time being. She felt naked without her weapons. When they were escorted to this resting place, Haldir had confiscated their weaponry. No matter what the elves said, as Dúnedain ranger, Ygerna had practically been raised from the cradle with a blade in her hand.

"I expected," she answered crossly, "That they behave as if you were an equal, not a savage prince."

Arathorn held out his arms in a gesture toward his attire, "I am a savage prince."

She threw him a sour look.

"You know what I mean. You'd think that you were some thief come to carry away the princess for ill-reasons the way they hustled her away from you."

Arathorn frowned, "I was not hustled. I left. She had enough for one night."

Ygerna snorted earning herself a sharp glance from her Lord.

"I only mean," she tried to explain, "You are not a villain. You are her betrothed."

"I did not expect her to fly into my arms, if that is what you mean," Arathorn said tightly folding his arms across his chest.

He was leaning against the trunk of one of the massive Lorien trees. Around them the rest of the company had made the appearance of resting. But both Arathorn and Ygerna knew it was a guise. Each and every one of the company would briefly sleep in turns keeping watch over their position the entire night. There were few places in the world that Dúnedain slept peacefully and the heart of elvendom was not one of them.

"What about the other one?" Ygerna asked mimicking his gesture, "Him." She raised her eyebrows toward the tree tops.

"I will worry about him only if the princess gives me a reason too," Arathorn said cooly, "Until then, he means nothing. We are here for one reason alone and the sooner we leave the better."

She nodded in silently agreement, but she was no fool. She had seen the look in Arathorn's eyes when he and Haldir had come face to face over Gilraen. She had seen the danger and the fight that could easily erupt between the two. As for the princess…Ygerna suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had not times for delicate females.

"I'll take the first watch," Arathorn's deep voice broke into her thoughts, "Try to rest."

"Not likely," she said but moved toward the camp, "It will be a long night."

"This will be a long night," Gault breathed to Orophin. The two elves had been stationed as part of the watch of the Dúnedain, their places along the border replaced by others from their contingent. Orophin nodded silently.

Gault shifted slightly in from his post. He had wanted to say it would be a long watch because of Orophin. The ellon was not conversational at the best of times and now he was busy studying the Edain who lay below.

"I did not expect to see women amongst them," Gault said anyway, "It is rarely seen aside from elvish practice. And it has been an age since our women went to battle."

"The Dúnedain are few. Their numbers dwindle every year," Orophin said in hushed tones, his eyes narrowed, "They likely have little choice."

"Seems a strange strategy for longevity—sending your women to war," Gault mused aloud.

He was surprised he had wrung an answer from Orophin at all. The youngest of the 3 brothers was the most quiet and standoffish of them all. Rumil was the merriest, but also the deadliest on the battle field. His was knife work, cutthroat and sly all hidden behind a broad merry face. As the eldest, Haldir as different. Duty bound and honorable to a fault, Haldir was the elf, Gault admired most in the world. He had all but raised his younger brothers after their parent's demise, and had made a name of himself on the battle field and off.

He had trained Gault from a young rebellious elf into the ellon he was today. For that alone, Gault would follow him onto any battle field. Looking down into the clearing where the Dúnedain camped, Gault felt anger begin to simmer in his veins. They had come for the Princess. For Gilraen.

"They're going to take her away from him, aren't they?" Gault hissed. Orophin said nothing. He only closed his eyes and nodded once.