The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

The Leaving

Within a few days, they were ready to set forth. Together, Miril, Elladan, and Elrohir stood in the throne room dressed in their traveling tunics, swords strapped to their belts, and packs prepared to put on their horses. They planned to stable their horses in Dol Amroth after finding Maglor in the White Mountains. Or at least that was the hope. From Dol Amroth, they would "flee" to Mordor and begin investigating.

Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn all stood opposite the three companions. Arwen looked solemnly and sadly at her brothers.

"Stay safe, brothers, Miril," Arwen said. "I hope you are capable of it."

Elrohir smiled roguishly. "Of course, sister. You know us!"

"That's what we're afraid of," Aragorn pointed out. "Stay out of trouble as long as you can."

Miril laughed and nodded. "Of course we will."

"Fare thee well then," Aragorn sighed with a frown. "Na lû e-govaned vîn*"

They bowed low to their friend and king. They would miss Gondor, truly. Miril especially was thinking of this. Gondor was now her home, though she very much missed Rivendell and the North. She hoped she would be able to return there someday. In fact, she wished to show her child the North. She wished for him or her to know of the history that Miril had been a part of. She knew the unborn child in her womb would never seen Lothlorien in all its beauty, and that made her sad. She would make it back to Minas Tirith, if only for the good of the child.

They picked up their packs of provisions and clothing and left the large throne room. The two guards beside the doors swung them open ceremoniously. When the large doors shut behind them, it was symbolic. They were really leaving.

"Well. Let us get the horses and be of," Miril said too forcefully, betraying her sadness.

Elrohir kissed her on the head. "Do not fret. We will return before you know it."

Miril forced a smile and a nod. Together the three half-elves made their way down through the streets of Minas Tirith until half way they came to the stables for royalty and visitors.

"Are you ready, Bruidal?" Miril whispered to her mare. "We are going to avenge my father against the Haradrim filth."

Bruidal was rearing to go. As soon as Miril attached the saddlebags and mounted the horse, she began to trot out into the square where they waited for the twins. Once Elladan and Elrohir were ready, they made their way down the streets to the great gates. Trotting out the gates was like a final farewell. They would make for the mountains that spawned the River Gilrain, for that was where it was said Nimrodel was lost in the ancient lore.

"To the River we go," Miril said. "Come. Let us gallop for awhile!"

And gallop they did. Miril sped forward on Bruidal, leaving the twins to play catch up. They almost did catch her, but not until she began to slow to rest her mare did they truly catch up. The wind was swift when they rode quickly and blew the hair of both man and beast this way and that. Miril was glad hers was back in a fancy braid. It kept all but the loose strands out of her face. She enjoyed the bite of the wind on her cheek.

They rode hard off and on until sunset. The colors in the sky were a combination of beautiful oranges and pinks and purples. Miril wished she could capture this moment forever. Just her, the twins, the horses, and the sky. But alas, she could not and soon the sunset faded into dark night with stars and a half moon to light their way.

"We should halt for the day," Elrohir suggested. "It is late and the horses are tired."

Miril hesitated but eventually she agreed, pulling back the reins on Bruidal to bring her steed to a stand still. They were near a set of trees and a small pool of clear water fed by a spring at the base of the mountains.

"We will reach the source of the River Gilrain tomorrow, Mir. Fear not." Elladan patted her on the shoulder as they tied their horses to a couple trees and got out their blankets for sleeping.

"Sleep well," Miril told the twins as she lay down for sleep herself. With a mutter she added, "Don't let the neekerbreekers bite."

"What?" Elrohir asked in utter confusion.

She let out a chuckle. "It was something we used to tell each other as children in the Dunedain camps."

The twins laughed quietly before setting soundly into their waking dream-like state.

Miril looked up at the stars above her. She smiled. Lady Elbereth was looking out for them. Even if the stars in the South were "strange" as Aragorn was wont to say, they were created by the great patroness of the elves. Varda Elentari, Elbereth Gilthoniel, whatever name she was called, created the stars above them and she was always looking out for the elven kind.

She also began to listen to the gurgle of the small spring beside them that fed a tiny brook. It was like music being played by harpists and soft trumpeters. She smiled again, for again she heard on the edge of consciousness, a voice. She could not make it out, but she knew it was there. Someone was looking out for her.

Tomorrow they would find the River Gilrain and its source. From there, they hoped to travel deeper into the mountains to find the shack that Maglor lived in at one point and hoped to find him there still.

She fingered in her pocket the stone that Elrond had entrusted her with. "Give this to him," he had said. That was just what she was going to do. She didn't know what it was or why it was important. But evidently it was, so she treated it as such. Perhaps it would help convince Maglor of their trustworthiness and need of help. For that was going to be a challenge in and of itself.

*Na lû e-govaned vîn - Until next we meet