"You want me to do what?"

"You heard me."

"I—I can't—I'm not—"

"Not what, Mir?" Hannas asked, intent and utterly serious. "You're the best of us. You know it; don't deny it. And she's…well, not easy, it's never easy. But she is…" Hannas frowned, looked away, searching for words. And then abruptly her face softened, and her eyes met Miriel's. "She's like Calen, in a way. In that, at least."

"What does that mean?"

"Just watch her. You'll see."

Dawn came early in the days before midsummer, and sunrise found Miriel standing by the fence of the practice yard.

"She's good. I'll give you that."

Meren nodded, a slight smile on his face, kept his eyes on his charges and said nothing.

"But why me? I'm not—"

"Don't say you're not old enough," said Hannas. "Anna wasn't much older when she took you."

And she didn't want to either. That was clear as day. She took me because Silevren asked her to. Anna had never said it, but Miriel knew it was true. And look how that worked out. She smiled a little, and warmth whispered through her, mingled with the memory of grief.

"Fine. But still, why me?" She looked from one to other. "Seriously. I have no idea what to do with a maethorneth."

Meren and Hannas glanced at each other, and then Meren said quietly, "Trust me, Mir."

She turned to him, met his eyes. Meren, who had been by her side since before they could walk, who knew her better than anyone. Meren, her oath-brother. She said softly, "I have always trusted you, gwador nîn."

"Then trust yourself."

She let out a slow breath, nodded, and climbed the fence into the practice yard.

The young woman stood talking quietly to her partner, her back to Miriel. Both trainees were breathing hard, but the woman's shoulders were straight, her grip loose and easy on her wooden practice blade. The young man facing her was good, but she was better, and she had won the match without much difficulty. She gestured, showing him something, and he nodded, followed her movement—and caught sight of Miriel crossing the yard toward them. He stiffened, said something, and the woman turned, and then stood still. Miriel halted before her, looked her up and down. Then she turned to the young man. "I'll take the next one."

He nodded, and hurried off without a word. A thin smile twitched at the corners of her lips, remembering well what it had been like. We're testing them, and they know it. She met the woman's eyes, and bowed slightly. "Miriel daughter of Sirhael."

"Valereth daughter of Vinyar." The woman's voice was low, and she bowed respectfully. But then she straightened and met Miriel's eyes, waiting.

"Ready," said Miriel, stepping back.

"Ready."

She's watching my body, not my sword. A thin smile. She is good.

Valereth was strong and fought hard, took her defeats without reaction, listened intently to the advice Miriel gave her but said nothing. But she's using it. Miriel realized that after the second round, tested it in the third to be sure, giving her openings. She's using it all.

After the fourth they stood eyeing each other, gasping and sweating. Valereth shook out the leg Miriel had struck to end the match, and Miriel allowed another thin smile. "You learn fast."

"So I have been told," Valereth said quietly, voice steady despite her heaving breath.

I like this girl. "Let's see how you do with bare hands."

When at last the bell rang for the morning meal, Valereth was on her back, bruised and breathless where Miriel had thrown her. But the momentum of it had nearly pulled Miriel over as well, and she stood doubled over and gasping. Slowly she straightened, reached a sweat-slick hand down and pulled Valereth to her feet. She met the young woman's eyes, and Valereth held them steadily. At last Miriel jerked a nod, and clapped her on the shoulder. "Go get some food."

Valereth bowed, and turned without a word. And as she walked away, shoulders straight though she couldn't help limping a little, Miriel heard again Hannas's voice in her mind: 'She's like Calen, in a way.' She smiled. My friend, you are not wrong.

"Well?" Meren asked, when she found him in the weapons shed. "Have I gotten another off my hands?"

Miriel laughed, shaking out her aching arms with a groan as she put away the practice sword. "Is that it? You just want to get rid of them?"

Meren grunted. "You try working with a dozen of them every damn day for a year, and tell me you wouldn't want to be rid of them by the end."

"I wouldn't last a week, and that's the truth."

Meren turned to her, and there was no more jest in his voice. "But what about one of them?"

Miriel hesitated, but she knew the answer. I owe it to him. To them. And then, though she had not expected the thought, And to Anna. She nodded. "I'll do it."

She watched the trials with Anna and Lain, the young trainee candidates the day before Midsummer and Valereth and the other soon-to-be maethorneth on Midsummer's Day. She and Lain laughed and poked good-natured fun at Hannas and Meren, though they were careful not to let the youngsters hear. But in truth it was impressive—and more than a little jarring—to see her friends step so easily into Faelon's role. Meren's good humor fell away, his voice stern and commanding, and the young would-be Rangers obeyed him without hesitation. Hannas was not so loud, but if anything more serious, all trace of gentleness gone, hindered not at all by the six-month swell of her belly. She did not fight, but she jogged with the group from one event to the next, directed them and cajoled them and encouraged them, and they eyed her with something near awe.

Anna watched it all and said almost nothing, though it was clear the noise and crowds wore on her. But when Valereth and her companions at last were done, and returned gasping and dripping from the pond, Anna said in a low voice, "Been watching her, Mir. Thought they might ask you."

"And?" Miriel turned to her, heart suddenly beating fast. Anna knew her nearly as well as her friends did, and knew better than any of them what it took to succeed as saethir and maethorneth.

"I would have suggested it if they hadn't."

Miriel's eyes widened, and she fought down an incredulous laugh. "Shit rolls downhill, eh?"

But Anna did not smile. "It's a gift. You don't know it now. But you will."

And so she stood in the line of Rangers that evening, the midsummer sun low over the hills, as Aragorn called over the crowd, "Master of Trainees, what do you bring me?"

Meren answered him with the time-honored words, as Faelon had so many years ago. "I bring you those who would be Rangers. They have proven strong enough to face the Wild; whether they will join our Company is yet to be seen. They have learned much, but have much yet to learn, and for that they need other masters than me."

"So be it." Aragorn turned to the line of Rangers. "Are there any here who would take up this charge, to take these maethorneth into the Wild, to train them in our ways, to set them against man and beast, land and weather, so they may earn their right to join us?"

Miriel felt her heart beating in her chest, felt his words as though he spoke to her alone. But the line of Rangers stepped forward together, and sunset gilded their stars. "I will."

As it was given to us, so now do we give.

Aragorn moved down the line, calling out each trainee's name in turn, and a Ranger answered for each. At last, "Valereth daughter of Vinyar."

Miriel drew a breath, and forced her voice steady as she called out over the crowd, "I will take her."

Valereth crossed the dusty ground between them to stand at her side. Miriel grasped her arm, as one Ranger would greet another. Their eyes met, and Miriel found a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "This won't be easy," she said in an undertone, as Aragorn moved on to the next pair.

"I know."

"Are you ready for it?"

Quiet, but utterly certain, "Yes."

The midsummer bonfire flared in the night, and she held Meren's baby boy while he danced with Tathar. She remembered their own maethorneth ceremony, and Calen by her side in the dark, smiled as she blinked back sudden, unexpected tears.

Footsteps behind her, and then the Chieftain stood by her in the firelight. "Wide awake," he said with a smile, offering a finger for the baby to grasp.

Miriel nodded. "Tathar said this would be her last dance, but he seems happy to stay all night."

Aragorn laughed. "Then let them have it. They get the chance seldom enough."

A rush of warmth, and she turned to him, said on impulse, "Thank you." She nodded toward Meren, whirling Tathar around with a smile of pure joy on his face. "For making him Master. He is…it is so good to see him happy." But then she flushed and looked away, fearing she had over-stepped.

"It is all one could wish for a brother, is it not?" he said softly.

A strange note in his voice, and she turned back to him, searching his face. But his expression showed nothing, and she dared not ask. And then it was gone, as his roving gaze that would not meet hers lighted on Valereth, dancing with one of her fellow maethorneth. "You do not know how fortunate you are," he said quietly. "Both of you."

"My lord?"

"It is rare that a match is so clear. It will not be easy," he said, unknowingly echoing her words. "You must know that. But you are…well-suited for each other."

"So they told me, Meren and Hannas both. And, if you can believe it," a soft, dry laugh, "Anna."

"Well do I believe it. And she of all people would know."

Miriel nodded, and gazed into the fire. "That she would." And then, "Do you have orders for us, my lord?"

Aragorn was silent for a time, and she thought perhaps she should not have asked. But at last he said, "Almost. Tomorrow, most likely." A thin smile. "Tell your maethorneth to ready her gear."

The baby fell asleep in Miriel's arms, did not wake even when she shifted him from one side to the other to ease her aching shoulders. She looked down at the soft, round face, ruddy in the firelight, oblivious of the talk and music around him, and smiled. Sleep anywhere, eh? We'll make a Ranger of you yet.

Meren and Tathar danced and danced, and she let them do it, sent them back when they came to check on the child. She saw Lain dancing with his sister, her face pale but smiling, and the Chieftain with Hannas. Telhirion was on the North Shire patrol, Hannas had told her, though he hoped to be home before her time came. "If the Wild allows," Hannas had said, soft and resigned. "All we can do is hope."

Darya and Anna were not there, had stayed only for the lighting of the Midsummer fire. But as a song ended, and the stars shone white in a sky now fully dark, Miriel caught movement on the edge of the firelight, even as a single drum began to pulse in the night. Slowly it began, warning, calling, and Anna's hair gleamed red-gold as she and Halbarad stepped into the light. Tathar appeared beside Miriel, flushed and smiling, held out her arms for the sleeping baby. "Go," she said. "It's your turn now."

The drum beat faster as the villagers pulled back, and the Rangers came into the clear space before the fire. Boots stamped the dirt, in time with the drum, as they moved into pairs for the dance.

"Mir." Anna's voice beside her, and she turned in surprise. "Hal's with the Chieftain." Of course. And Miriel smiled, bowed to Anna as custom demanded, and they joined the line.

Shoulder to shoulder, backs to the fire, they stamped to the beat of the drum. Stars flickered red, and a voice cried out, and the Chieftain stepped into the light.

He danced alone, slow and then faster, and the drum followed his feet. He raised a hand, and the tune began, a single fiddle with the drum. Ancient and clear in the night it sang, a melody old as the hills, and he held out his hand, and Halbarad took it, eyes on each other they danced.

The crowd cheered and whistled, and the Rangers stamped, and at last Aragorn and Halbarad stepped back into the line, flushed and gasping, eyes bright as another pair took their place. Each Ranger had their own steps, but the true skill was in joining one with the other's, each playing off the other in wordless harmony. One pair after another they danced, Amloth and Dalbarin, Meren and his brother Barahir, Hannas and Lain, and the crowd whooped their approval. Loud cheers as Miriel and Anna stepped forward, cries of maloseg and gloriel, for that was what they called her, golden, and in the joy of the dance even Anna smiled.

That was the end, the last dance, and Miriel made her way back to the barracks, staggering a little with weariness and drink both, climbed into her bunk and fell asleep almost at once, heedless of the movement of others around her in the dark. Anna went back to Darya, Meren and Tathar to the house they shared with Hannas and Telhirion, the better to care for the children when one or another of them was nearly always gone.

Aragorn could not sleep yet, though he was weary, the strain of so many eyes on him, so many questions to answer. So many decisions to make, so many people to talk to, each in the way that they needed. He let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him, and leaned against it.

"The Wild is easier." Halbarad stood back from the lamp he had been lighting, and looked Aragorn up and down. "In some ways at least."

A soft half-laugh. "It is."

"When am I to go? You said you would decide tonight."

Aragorn nodded. "There was one last thing to see today. It was…as I thought it would be. But I had to be sure."

"Before you told me." Carefully without expression, "You think I won't like it."

"I know you won't."

Halbarad grunted, shook his head, a wry smile flickering across his lips. "But you know I'll do it anyway."

Aragorn let out a long breath. "Gwador nîn." And then, quietly, "Yes. I do know that. And I am grateful for it, now and always." He met Halbarad's eyes. "But this request is easy – take Miriel with your patrol."

Halbarad frowned. "She has a maethorneth. Where we're going—"

"Have you seen her maethorneth?"

Halbarad said nothing.

"Ask Anna. Valereth can hold her own."

"Why risk it? I could take Barahir, and send Anna to the East Road in his place. She's nearly healed; she could leave—"

"I want Miriel with you, Hal. With you, where you are going." He stepped close, laid a hand on Halbarad's shoulder. "You know…what she is, what she can do. Please. If not for yourself, do this for me."

Soft suddenly, and cold, "So now you care."

Aragorn flinched, drew a sharp breath, closed his eyes and let it out slowly. "I have always cared, brother. Always. There was not a day—"

"I'm sorry, Arya. I should not have—"

"You had every right. I deserve whatever you say."

Silence. And then, "I forgave you. It's done."

"Forgiven, perhaps," said Aragorn softly, "but not forgotten."

Halbarad met his eyes. "No."

"Gwador nîn. Let me give you what I can."

Halbarad bowed his head, and nodded, tensed but did not pull away when Aragorn's hand touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, and let gentle fingers brush away his tears.

Notes:

Calen was one of Miriel's training companions and has remained a close friend. See NATWWAL Ch. 1-19 and 36, and ALFTS Ch. 20-24

"Have I gotten another off my hands?" In real life, I'm a high school teacher, mostly of juniors and seniors. I love my job and my students, and/but it's awfully good to see them graduate ;)

The maethorneth trials and ceremony echo Miriel's own, in NATWWAL Ch. 19.

For the backstory between Aragorn and Halbarad, see ALFTS Ch. 4-5 and 7, and Turtle Dove.