If she could punish Lord Silwin herself, she would.
Arwen couldn't help but feel disgusted by how Silwin had violated guest-right. How could he do so? Why had he turned so vile? And what had he against Aragorn? It didn't make sense that he would break the laws of Lorien just because Aragorn was a man. No, there was something else troubling him. Silwin was a reasonable elf who took pride in his honor.
But she soon waved away any thought of the wayward elf and focused on Aragorn. Why had he left the city? Was it guilt that made him act so? He had killed elves in the heart of Caras Galadhon, but it was in self-defense. Surely, her grandmother wouldn't proclaim a harsh ruling in such a situation.
She had reached the Naith and found signs of mortal feet. Ever north and west they led her. It was evident he was trying to find a way towards the Dimrill Dale and then over the Redhorn Pass to get into Eriador.
"He's definitely making towards Imladris," she whispered to herself.
Elves moved to the north in files, moving forth to reinforce the elves fighting orcs that had descended on Lorien from Mordor. These were the same orcs who had pursued Aragorn from the Morgul Vale.
And now from the mouths of her kin she had heard that even Dol Guldur was moving southward.
Why had the Enemy moved to open battle so early? Why had they pursued Aragorn with such fervor? What did they know?
The Enemy surely did not know about Aragorn's true identity. Or did he? She hoped not. That'd be disastrous. Who knew how many traps he would lay for him then?
She stopped behind a tree beneath a small mound atop which were several mobile battlement structures and weapons. Behind a tree was a small place where she found the impression of heavy feet. Definitely a mortal's. An elf wouldn't make such impressions on the ground. They walked light and oftentimes wore no shoes. Aragorn definitely stood here, perhaps hiding from someone–or many someones.
She bent down and examined the ground exactly as her brothers had taught her, although she wished they were here. They would know exactly what to do and how to find their quarry faster. She remembered the time she spent in Imladris when she was younger and had gone on a trip with Elladan and Elrohir. They had taught her much about tracking.
Elladan had always lorded about how he was the eldest of them all, though Elrohir had come out of their mother's womb only a few seconds later. Elrohir sometimes contested this fact and used to taunt him by saying that if Elladan hadn't hogged their mother's birth canal, they would have both come out together.
Today, Elrohir was quiet and had his head pressed sideway on the land. She found it curious and stared at him askance as though he had gone mad. Elladan noticed it and said, "You need to listen to the land, sister. The land is wise, and it remembers everything. It records every movement across it and saves it in its memory. One needs to only speak and listen to it to access it."
There was little wind around, but what little there was, it unsettled her.
No, it did not reek of evil as it did north of her father's country, but regardless, the air felt unwholesome here.
Sad, she thought.
"It feels so sad here," she mouthed. "Why does it feel so sad?"
Elladan looked around and nodded. "Yes, this land remembers much. Why would it not when once it was inhabited by elves?"
"By elves?" she asked. Looking around at the countryside, she never thought elves would consider living here.
"Aye... do not look so surprised, sister," Elladan said. "This land has suffered through a lot of wars and plague, and the fair folk dwelled here a long time ago. When they did so, there was much tree cover and green, where now is a lot of brown and seeming desolation. The earth groans with their memories. This land still remembers them even though a long time has passed since."
"What's this place?" she asked. "Where have we come to?"
"This place the Dunedain call Hollin, sister," Elrohir said, getting up. "It once used to be called Eregion. Great cities of the elves used to be here once, and the elves of this place were great smiths and craftsmen of old. Our mother used to tell me stories of this place. How glorious the towers in Eregion were! How crafty its people were! She used to tell me especially of the friendship between its leader, the lord Celebrimbor, and..."
"Celebrimbor?" she interrupted. "The Feanorian?"
"Aye!" Elrohir nodded. "The grandson of Feanor... he had this great friendship with Narvi, the great dwarf-smith. Together they wrought many beautiful things."
"If this kingdom was so great, what happened to it?" she asked. She had heard stories of Eregion of course. Her father had mentioned it to her, but she had refused to hear about how the land was ravaged. When she was a child, she hated any story that saw the elves losing the fight, even though her wise grandmother would often tell her that the elves continuously fought the long defeat. She refused to believe that.
"A long time ago, Arwen," Elladan started, "an evil came to Eregion, posing as a representative of the Maiar. He donned a fair form and yet had a dark core. Our grandmother saw that in him and refused him, and so did the King Gil-galad. However, Lord Celebrimbor, the curious smith that he was, openly accepted him, and for a time, this elf-lord, this representative of the Valar, who called himself Annatar, helped the elves craft much beautiful things."
"The elves of Eregion began to yearn for the shores of Valinor," Elrohir continued, "and knew they could return West anytime they wanted since the Ban of the Noldor had been lifted. And still they were in love with Middle Earth and wished to preserve its beauty. They also wanted to enhance it and hopefully somehow bring the grace of Valinor to Middle Earth. If they could not just let go of Middle Earth, they could bring their desires to Middle Earth."
"And so they made instruments to make it so," Elladan said. "However, this elf-lord Annatar deceived the elves by crafting the one weapon that could master all these instruments. And thus this elf-lord was revealed for who he truly was. A servant of our Great Enemy. Sauron himself."
"Hearing Sauron's words," Elrohir continued the story, "Lord Celebrimbor destroyed many of these instruments and hid some while he wrought the Three for the elves. He gave these to the elven rulers in that age. And then Sauron waged war on this land and destroyed this country. Lord Celebrimbor died here after much torture. And then Sauron went on with his war on the elves, frustrated he couldn't find the Three. It was only with the help that came from Numenor that Sauron was finally defeated and made to withdraw to Mordor."
Elladan sighed. "This land still remembers the carnage even though it was ages ago in the small lives of men. And yet it also remembers the happy times the elves had here. It mourns for those elves."
"And how do you know that?" she asked.
Elrohir smiled at her. "For that, you need to truly listen to the earth and the wind. The signs are already there, and if you listen, you will truly be able to see it. But come now, we have tarried here for too long. Our quarry has gone eastward."
"Oh, do we get to visit the dwarves of Khazad-dum?" she asked, humming with excitement.
Elladan shook his head as he looked towards Moria, in the direction where the West Gate lay. "Nay, sister, dwarves and elves are estranged in these times. Nay, we make for the Redhorn Pass and the Dimrill Gate yonder."
"Yes." Elrohir nodded. "Besides, I sense something stirring in the deeps of the earth. That's what has me worried. I wouldn't want to be caught in the net of Moria when whatever evil it is finally decides to waken."
She didn't know what her brother was speaking about. What evil? What stirred in the deeps of the earth? And why would it awaken in Moria? And if it did, shouldn't they warn the dwarves? When she posed the question to her brothers, Elladan shook her head and said, "I've already sent warning ahead, sister, though I don't think it will fall on welcome ears."
"How? When?" she asked. She had not seen her brothers send any message.
"Not now... we sent it the last time we came here, a year or so ago... even then the air was unwholesome. The earth rattled, the sound of dwarves mining through the earth in their quest to obtain more mithril. I had sensed flame and shadow then, though I could not make anything of it then, and I cannot make anything of it now. But now, the air is even more foreboding of evil and forthcoming darkness. Mayhap the dwarves have heeded our warning and left the shadow alone, but deep inside, I think not. But Khazad-dum is not our worry now, sister. Our worry is now our quarry, the goblin-platoon heading eastward, probably heading to Dol Guldur. Come, sister, hurry!"
Saying, her brothers sprinted towards Caradhras, and even though she hesitated, she raced away behind them, casting one sad look in the south-eastern direction, hoping the dwarves would weather the coming of flame and shadow, whatever that was.
The wind blew again, this time chillier, and it was filled with harsh voices.
"Listen to the earth and the wind, sister," she remembered her brothers saying. "Listen to the earth and the wind."
Listen to the earth and the wind.
That was the lesson her brothers had given her. She bent down and laid her head sideward on the ground.
The earth moaned with the trampling of heavy feet. Cursed feet. No doubt the presence of orcs in the Naith and Egladil. Whatever was Grandmother thinking?
That noise came from the north and the east, but from the south came a distant sound of feet tapping and the faraway sound of flowing waters.
A smile made her lips curl.
Aragorn was making his way towards the Celebrant. She guessed his intention was to follow it westward until it joined the Mirrormere. And then onto Dimrill Gate and the Redhorn Pass. She grunted.
She had a long way to go still, and she hoped she could find him before he headed off westward.
Although, it was going to be a challenge.
He had learned well from her brothers. Much better than she had ever done.