Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 1

            The three riders rode silently along the Great East Road, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the miles slipped away.  The area they were riding through was only lightly forested and the ash and oak trees that were scattered throughout the mostly evergreen woods had already turned gold and red on this early autumn morning.  The sky was overcast and it was cool and the riders were wrapped against the weather in identical grey cloaks.  At first glance the three appeared to be as identical as their cloaks and only on closer inspection did it became obvious that two of the riders were taller and were, in fact, identical while the third rider only looked similar to the twins.  His dark, almost black, hair was shorter, only shoulder length, and his ears did not have the graceful points that the other two possessed.

            It was the fifth day since they had left the elven haven of Imladris and they would reach their destination, a small Dúnedain village called Dolomar in the early evening.  The elven twins, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, the Lord of Imladris, were becoming increasingly concerned about the young man who rode between them.  The one who was as a brother to them, who had been since he had entered their home as a two year old eighteen years before, the one they knew as Estel, but who had learned his true name, Aragorn, and heritage six months previously and was now going to take his place among his people, the Dúnedain. 

            “Do they know I am coming?” Estel’s voice broke the silence that had surrounded the three since they had broken camp several hours earlier.  He looked between his brothers with a question in his light grey eyes as he absently patted the neck of his roan horse.

            Elrohir glanced at Elladan before answering the question, “Yes, Halhigal was informed and I am sure he told the rest of the people in the village, Estel.”  He paused, studying his brother, easily seeing the tenseness in the set of his shoulders and his furrowed brow.  For a brief moment Elrohir hesitated and then he asked Estel the question weighing on his mind.  “What frightens you the most about this, Estel?” he asked in a very quiet voice.

            Estel quickly reined his horse to a halt and the other two horses took several more steps before stopping and Elladan and Elrohir twisted slightly in their saddles and looked back at him questioningly, though both knew why he had stopped.  “I am not frightened, Elrohir,” he replied sharply.  “I am… concerned about living in a village of men and somewhat nervous about meeting kin that I did not even know existed until six months ago, but I am not frightened.”  Estel shook his head and urged his horse on, passing his brothers and taking the lead.  He was not really surprised that Elrohir would ask him such a question.  Elrohir always saw into the heart of others and, if Estel were truly honest with himself, he was more than just concerned about taking on his role as Chieftain of the Dúnedain, but he did not consider himself frightened. 

            While he had been shocked when his adar had told him his true name, Estel was proud of his newly revealed lineage and he thought he was ready to take on the responsibility for which he now realized he had been training for all his life.  Yet there was a small part of him that wondered if he was too young for this, he knew he was very young for one of his people and that concerned him.  Estel had never even been amongst the Dúnedain and the only humans he had ever been around, apart from his naneth, was when he and his brothers had helped a family whose horses had strayed and so had no means of pulling their wagon to continue their journey.  They were nice people and grateful for the help in rounding up their wandering horses, but that hardly gave him a basis with which to take over leadership of the Dúnedain.  While Estel understood the necessity of keeping him hidden from the agents of Sauron and he did not fault the wisdom of his adar, his naneth, or the current leadership of the Dúnedain, he did think it was going to make it difficult for him to adjust to this new life.  Fortunately, he thought with an inward smile, he had learned from the wisest teachers in all of Middle-earth and Estel knew that that would be enough for him to find his way… eventually.

            “Stop, Estel.” 

            Estel brought his horse to a halt once again, recognizing the no nonsense tone of Elladan’s voice.  He looked at his brother and waited for him to continue.

            Elladan knew full well what Estel was thinking, it was difficult for the young man to totally hide his thoughts from either of his brothers.  “If you are not frightened, then what are these concerns?” he stared intently at Estel, expecting an answer.

            Running his hand through his hair, Estel tried to put his thoughts into words.  He trusted his brothers completely, they had always been there for him as he had grown up in Imladris and they were as close as true brothers, yet there was something about this situation that he hesitated to share with them.  He was not sure that they could truly understand his heart in this matter as this was something with which they had no experience.  Still, Elladan was waiting for an answer and so with an inward grimace he responded slowly with a question of his own.  “How old is my uncle, Halhigal, who currently leads the Dúnedain?”

            “Seventy,” Elladan said, urging his horse on, the other two automatically bringing their horses into step alongside as they turned off the road and headed south into the area known as the Angle where most of the scattered villages of the Dúnedain were located.

            “And the other men in Dolomar?”

            Elrohir and Elladan exchanged knowing glances over the top of Estel’s head.  “They are all different ages, Estel.  Just like in most of the villages,” Elrohir replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

            Estel gave him a brief, hard stare before dropping his gaze back to his saddle.  “I meant the men who are in leadership there… the ones that lead the patrols and the ones who give Halhigal counsel.”

            Elladan took his time before responding, “The youngest is probably in his fifties and the oldest are over a hundred,” he finally said.  “Why does that concern you?”  He watched as Estel narrowed his eyes and shifted slightly in his saddle.

            “I think I am too young to become Chieftain,” Estel admitted, lifting his head and shifting his gaze between his brothers.  “I know Adar believes I am ready for this, as do you two apparently, but I am only twenty and that is young for one of… my people.”

            “It is,” Elrohir agreed quietly, as he sought for the words that would encourage his brother.  He knew that Estel was ready to take his place among the Dúnedain, yet he also knew that it might take some time for his brother to find his way as a leader and not simply the follower that he had been up to this point in his life.  Try as they might, it was rather difficult to give Estel the experience of being a leader when living amidst elves with thousands of years of experience.  “While you do not have the experience that your father, Arathorn, had or your grandfather, Arador, had when they took over leadership of your people, Estel, you do have all of the skills that are needed.  You are well trained in the use of both sword and bow, in tracking, in healing, and your knowledge of your people and of the history of Middle-earth is deep and,” he paused for a brief moment.  “You know how to apply that knowledge to whatever situation you face; Erestor and Adar have taught you well,” Elrohir smiled.

            “Estel,” Elladan spoke up once again, “the Dúnedain need and want you to return.  This is the longest they have ever been without their Chieftain; it has not been easy for them to have you in Imladris all this time.”

            Estel looked at Elladan sharply, having never considered that the Dúnedain might actually need him.  He had assumed his uncle was a wise man and had done a good job leading the people while he had been away.  “Is Halhigal not a good leader?”

            “Your uncle is a very good leader,” Elladan replied, giving Estel a stern look.  “I did not mean to imply otherwise.”  His voice softened for a moment, “He is, in some ways, much like your naneth.  But having Halhigal leading the Dúnedain is not the same as having you, the rightful heir and direct descendent of Isildur and Elendil, leading them.  The people trust you without ever having met you; they will follow you without question…”

            “Most of them will,” Elrohir interrupted, glancing at his brothers before staring into the woods ahead of them, thinking of a few men who would very likely question Estel and his leadership.

            “What do you mean?” Estel asked, frowning.

            “There are always men, even among the Dúnedain, who question those in authority, Estel.  You had best get used to it now and learn how to deal with them,” the elf replied and Estel nodded, his brow still furrowed. 

            “But, Estel,” Elladan fixed his brother with his piercing stare, “this is well within your ability.  Young as you are, you are ready for this.  Halhigal will be a great help and I suggest you heed his counsel.”

            “That I already planned on doing,” Estel said with a half smile, stretching slightly, his eyes scanning the woods as he pondered his brother’s words.  It was almost the exact same things his adar had said to him, yet hearing it a second time from his brothers somehow made it easier for him to accept and to believe that he was ready for the path laid out before him.  It might not be easy, but it was his heritage and destiny and he would just have to find his way.

            The trail narrowed and they fell silent as they brought their horses into single file with Elladan leading, Estel in the middle, and Elrohir trailing a short distance behind the other two, keeping a wary eye out behind them.  They rode the rest of the way with little conversation between them and the sun was low in the sky as they finally drew close to Dolomar.  As they rode up the little rise overlooking the village, Elladan suddenly reined to a stop and put his hand to the hilt of his sword as he stared at a clump of small bushes.  His brothers quickly copied him, but only Estel actually drew his sword when he too heard the faint whispering.  Elladan and Elrohir visibly relaxed after a moment and gestured for their brother to deal with the situation.  Seeing his brothers relax helped still Estel’s racing heart and he called out sharply, “Come out and show yourselves.”

            To Estel’s surprise, but not to either of his brothers, two young, dark-haired boys stepped out from the bushes.  They shifted nervously from foot to foot, but had determined looks on their pale faces as they faced the three riders.  Suppressing a grin and keeping a stern look on his face, Estel laid his sword across the pommel of his saddle as he asked, “Were you planning on ambushing us?”

            The boys stared at him wide-eyed and then the taller boy swallowed nervously before he answered.  “N-no, my lord,” his gaze flicked between the man and the two elves.  “Halhigal asked us to watch for you.  Are-are you Lord Aragorn?” a note of awe had crept into his voice and his eyes were shining with excitement while the younger boy was looking the three of them over curiously.

            “I am,” Estel replied, inclining his head.  “This is Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir,” he indicated his brothers who were regarding the two boys gravely.  “What is your name?”

            “Caladithil, my lord,” he said and bowed as he remembered his manners.  “This is Balrant,” he elbowed the younger boy, who also bowed before giving Estel a gap-toothed grin and again he had to bite back a smile.

            Tapping the hilt of his sword with his fingers as he studied the two boys, Estel finally re-sheathed it and he noticed that their eyes followed every movement that he made with the sword.  He addressed them again, “Since you were not planning an ambush, I believe that I will release you to complete the task that Halhigal set for you.  However,” he cautioned the boys sternly as they began to move back into the bushes and they froze and stared at him wide-eyed, “as I hope the two of you will join me as Rangers someday, I want you to work on remaining quieter when on watch.”  Estel suddenly smiled at the two boys who blinked, grinned and nodded before slipping back into the bushes towards the village below and he could hear them break into a run as soon as they were out of sight. 

            “Well, Estel,” Elrohir said with a faint smile as they urged their horses forward and headed down the slope, “I would say that your first encounter with your people went very well.”

            Estel let out a small laugh before he asked, “Do they have no one guarding the approaches to the village?”  From all he had heard and learned of his people, he knew that was not likely, but he did not sense anyone else in the area and neither of his brothers had indicated the presence of other men. 

            “There are always two or three young men out patrolling the area around the village, usually several miles out though, so that if there is danger, they may warn the people in time to prepare,” Elladan replied.

            Estel nodded, satisfied, but did not otherwise respond as he was looking intently at the village that was to be his new home.  There was a wooden stockade surrounding a group of about twenty houses made of logs with a few trees scattered amongst the houses.  A wide dirt lane ran between the two rows of houses, though grass, turning brown now in the autumn, surrounded most of the homes. Each house had small penned areas in the back for their small flocks of chickens.  A few dogs wandered here and there around the village.  Estel could see sheep and cows in a common grazing area near the hay, wheat, and corn fields on the far side of the village.  Near the center of the village was a large open area and a larger building that Estel assumed was a hall for meetings, special gatherings, and celebrations.  A well was also in the center of the village as was a blacksmith shop and other smaller buildings, but Estel could not tell what their purpose was before they dropped too far down the incline and approached the gate into Dolomar.  The gate was open and Estel wondered if that was in expectation of their arrival, or if it was typically kept open during the day.  They pulled their horses to a halt as there was a grim-faced, middle-aged man standing in the opening watching them closely with narrowed eyes.

            “Good evening, my Lord Aragorn, my lords,” he said bowing deeply, first to Estel and then to Elladan and Elrohir.  Estel inclined his head and he and his brothers greeted the man in return, though Estel found it strange that people he had never met knew him on sight.  “I’m Faelon and Halhigal has asked me to escort you to him.  Rosruin,” he motioned to a tall, slender boy standing nearby, “will take your horses to the stables and care for them.”

            Hesitating only a moment, for he preferred to care for his own horse, Estel replied as he dismounted, “Thank you,” he paused briefly, then added as he handed the reins to Rosruin, “I would appreciate that this evening,” emphasizing the last two words.  Elladan and Elrohir exchanged quick, amused looks with each other, though they said nothing as they turned their horses over to the youth who quickly led them away.  Aware of Faelon’s silent scrutiny, Estel turned back to him with a questioning look and the man quickly averted his eyes.

            “It’s this way, my lord,” Faelon said, gesturing down the wide lane that led between the rows of houses towards the open area that Estel had seen from above.  As they began to walk, Estel glanced behind him and was pleased to note that two boys were standing at the gate, obviously on watch.  Trying to look around without being too obvious, Estel saw that the houses were as well built as they had appeared from a distance and that the village was neat and orderly.  He knew from his brothers that it was not the same in many villages of men, but the Dúnedain were descendants of those who had escaped from Númenor and they took pride in that heritage and some of that pride was reflected in how they lived.  However, living in an elven haven like Imladris, with its beautiful buildings that had been carefully built to seem a part of the natural landscape, had not prepared Estel to live in these simple log homes.  He suddenly realized how quiet it was and his first thought was that he was missing the sound of the waterfalls that had surrounded his home all of his life and then he realized that it was the village itself that was quiet and he cast an anxious look around.  While he could not see anyone, Estel could sense that they were being watched from the various houses as they strode down the lane.  As everyone here knew Faelon and most had seen his brothers, he realized he was the one the villagers were watching.  The thought brought him both a sense of dismay and amusement, though he kept an impassive expression on his face. 

            Nearing the village center, Estel finally heard the sound of children’s voices which relieved him.  He did not want his mere presence to disrupt the everyday life of the village.  A group of young boys and girls were playing some sort of game around the well and Estel saw that Balrant had joined them, though Caladithil was not in sight.  The young boy spotted them and ran to Faelon calling out, “Ada,” and they stopped and waited for him to join them.  The rest of the children stared at him and Estel got the uncomfortable feeling that this was going to be something he needed to get used to, not only here, but also in the other villages that he would be visiting in the coming months.  A woman came out from a nearby house and shooed the children away and Estel gave her a small smile.  The woman looked startled and then gave him a hesitant smile in return.

            “I thought you were going home after you and Caladithil told Halhigal that Lord Aragorn was here,” Faelon said, frowning down at his young son.

            “I-I was going to Ada, but I wanted to see Lord Aragorn again,” Balrant glanced up at Aragorn from the corner of his eye, almost bouncing in his excitement.

            “Well, you’ve seen him, now run along home and tell your nana that I’ll be along shortly,” Faelon said sternly, laying his hand on his son’s shoulder.  His voice softened slightly at the disappointed look in his son’s eyes, “Lord Aragorn will be living here now, Balrant, you’ll be able to see him another day.”  Balrant brightened at that thought and after a quick bow in the general direction of Aragorn; he took off running towards home and one of the dogs lying by the well trotted along behind him.

            As they walked on Estel glanced at Faelon and commented, “Balrant seems like a wonderful boy.”  Of course he had never been around any children before, but he liked the boy’s enthusiasm and it gave him something to talk about with Faelon.

            Faelon gave him a searching look and then nodded once, “He is, my lord.”

            Estel wondered briefly if it was too personal to ask more questions about his family, but he did not know any other way to find out about his people and so he asked.  “Do you have other children?”

            “Yes, a son, Baisael, who’s thirty and a daughter, Braniell, who’s twenty-two.  My wife’s name is Arthiell,” he added after a moment, giving Estel a sidelong glance.  “Do you have other questions, my lord?” he asked politely, but Estel could hear the slightly suspicious tone in his voice.

            Suppressing an annoyed sigh, Estel shook his head.  “Not right now, Faelon.  However, I would ask that you remember that I do not know anyone here and the only way I will learn is by speaking with people and asking questions,” he allowed a hint of exasperation to enter his voice and Estel could tell that Elladan and Elrohir were giving him looks of approval, though he was concentrating on Faelon.

            Faelon studied his feet for a moment as they walked and then looked up and met Estel’s eyes steadily, “Yes, of course, my lord, forgive me.”  Estel nodded once and returned his attention to the house they were approaching where a small group of people – mostly men – were standing.  He easily picked out his uncle who was standing slightly in front of the group as he looked like his naneth and he assumed that the woman by his side was his wife, Nimrie.  There was an older woman standing nearby and Estel wondered if she was his grandmother, Ivorwen, as he saw a resemblance to both his naneth and Halhigal.  Sweeping his gaze over the rest of the gathered men, Estel saw a wide range of expressions in their eyes and on their faces.  While all of the older men were grim of face, their eyes showed what was in their hearts – joy, wariness, uncertainty, satisfaction, or a combination of all of those.  Those men under forty, however, seemed uniformly pleased and their countenances showed it as Estel reached Halhigal and Nimrie and bowed.  He may have been the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, but Halhigal and Nimrie were his uncle and aunt and his adar and naneth had taught him to show respect for the elder members of his family.

            “You don’t have to bow to me, my Lord Aragorn,” Halhigal protested quietly as he looked carefully at the tall, young man before him.  He was amazed at how closely Aragorn resembled Elladan and Elrohir, though he also realized there was something about him that reminded him of his own son, Halbarad.  That Aragorn had been raised in Imladris there was no doubt Halhigal realized as he took in the soft green and grey elvish clothing he wore, yet even without that, it was evident in his very stance and in the graceful way he walked and moved.

            “Yes, I do, Uncle Halhigal,” Estel said with a faint smile as he reached out and clasped Halhigal’s forearm.  “My adar and naneth taught me better manners than that.”  A slight stirring among the men and a flash of something across the face of both Halhigal and Nimrie that Estel could not read made him wonder what he had said wrong and then he realized that he had called Elrond his adar and that among the Dúnedain that might be seen as dishonoring the memory of Arathorn.  He gave an inward sigh and realized it could not be helped, while he would never intentionally dishonor the memory of Arathorn, Elrond had raised him and Estel saw him as his adar and he would always refer to him as such.  He cast a sidelong glance at Elrohir, but the elf was staring at the ground and he turned his attention back to Halhigal.

            “Knowing my sister, I’m sure she did,” Halhigal replied mildly and turned to his wife.  “This is your aunt, Nimrie.”

            Estel took Nimrie’s hand and kissed it lightly in greeting, “Aunt Nimrie, I am glad to meet you.”

            “Welcome to Dolomar, Lord Aragorn,” Nimrie said, smiling.  “I do hope that you will be happy here, though I know that it’ll be a big change from Imladris.”  Estel nodded as she continued, “From what Lord Elrohir has told me, you’re a gifted healer and I would like to speak with you about healing when things have settled down for you.”

            “Are you a healer?”

            “Yes,” she replied, “but it’s mostly what I learned from my naneth when I was young and things I’ve learned over the years.  I’ve never had any type of formal training and I’d like to learn more from you, if you have the time.”

            “I will make the time, Aunt Nimrie,” Estel said with a smile lighting up his face.  “It is something that I enjoy and will willingly share with you.  Are you the only healer in the village?”  At her nod, he continued with a small frown, “Then it is even more important that you are well trained.”  He would have gone on but a small sound made him look back at Halhigal who was watching the two of them with an unreadable expression.

            “You will find, Halhigal,” Elrohir commented, “that Aragorn is not only a gifted healer, but that once he begins speaking with another healer he tends to become totally focused on the subject.”  Estel opened his mouth to protest his brother’s words, but then he realized Elrohir was right and he shrugged slightly.

            “Healing is an important skill,” Halhigal noted, surprised at the interest that Aragorn showed in healing even though Elrohir and Elladan had mentioned this gift before.  While every Chieftain of the Dúnedain had a certain level of healing skill, he did not remember the three he had served under having this much enthusiasm about it.  It was not something that he considered particularly important for a leader to have, though as long as his Chieftain had the other skills necessary, he supposed it did not matter.  “Come and meet your grandmother,” he led Aragorn over to the other woman that was standing nearby.  “Naneth, this is your grandson, Aragorn.”

            Estel felt the full force of his grandmother’s penetrating gaze as she looked him up and down, her bluish grey eyes hard as she examined him.  Instead of reaching for her hand, Estel bowed and said quietly, “I am glad to meet you, Grandmother.  My naneth also asked me to give you her love and to tell you how much she misses you.  Also, now that I… I know my true heritage, she hopes to be able to visit you.”  He bowed again and waited for some kind of response.

            Ivorwen snorted, “Know your true heritage?  Did you just learn of it?”  Estel nodded and glanced at Halhigal who shook his head slightly.  “You should have stayed here in Dolomar and then you would not just be learning the truth about who you are and Gilraen would have been at my side these past eighteen years.”  Estel was stunned at the bitterness in her voice, he had thought that the decision to take him to Imladris had been something that everyone had agreed to and he was temporarily at a loss as how to respond to his grandmother.

            “I am sorry, Grandmother, I know that my naneth often wished that she were here with you and the rest of her kin,” Estel finally said, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked down at her.  It was true, he had seen the sadness that overtook his naneth at times, sadness that she would not explain to him and while it had lessened as he had grown older, it had remained a part of her.

            “She should have returned then,” Ivorwen replied and though her voice was no longer bitter, the hardness did not leave her eyes and a hint of worry could now also be seen there.

            “She could not,” Halhigal reminded his naneth gently.  “Remember, we sent Aragorn to Imladris to keep him safe, Naneth, and as you see we succeeded,” he gestured to the young man standing in front of her.

            “Yes, I remember, Halhigal,” Ivorwen whispered.  “I just… I just… “ she suddenly turned and hurried away towards one of the houses. 

            “Forgive her, my lord,” Halhigal started to apologize when Estel interrupted him.

            “Forgive her for what?” Estel asked, a look of disbelief on his face.  “For the pain of losing her child and grandchild to a far off place?  And from what Elladan and Elrohir have told me of my kin, I know that she lost two other children in tragic circumstances and her husband, my grandfather, died only a few years ago.  No, Uncle Halhigal, there is nothing she has done that needs my forgiveness.  I only wish I could have brought her comfort instead of causing her pain,” Estel’s voice held a trace of sadness and grief for the grandmother he had only just met.

            Halhigal stared at him for a long moment and then his stern, grey eyes softened somewhat, “I believe you will give her more comfort than you realize, my lord.  There is one more of your close kin that I would have you meet before you meet the rest of the men that are currently in the village.”  He glanced around, “My son, Halbarad, is around here somewhere.”  When he did not immediately see him, he raised his voice and called out, “Halbarad!”

            “Coming, Adar!” a strong clear voice sounded from near the back of the assembled men and then Halbarad wormed his way through the small crowd and joined his father.  “Forgive me, Adar,” Halbarad said with a slight bow, “I was helping Caladithil for a moment.”  His father gave him a long, stern look and then proceeded to introduce him to Aragorn.

            “My Lord Aragorn this is your cousin, Halbarad.”

            “Well met, Halbarad,” Estel said, clasping his cousin’s forearm as he intently studied the young man.  He knew from his brothers that Halbarad was only a few years older than him and he had been pleased to learn that he had at least one kinsman that was close to his age.

            “Well met indeed, my lord,” Halbarad said, bowing.  “I’m glad that you have returned to us at last.”  He ignored the frown of his father and wondered why the remark might be considered impolite as he knew that his father and most of the Dúnedain were glad that Aragorn had returned.

            “I am glad to be here, Halbarad, though I do have one request to make of you and my uncle and my aunt,” Estel looked at each of them in turn and they gave him questioning looks so he continued quietly, lowering his voice so that the rest of the men could not overhear.  “I would ask that you not call me lord but simply Aragorn.  We are kin and it is not right that you should call me that.”

            Halhigal bit back the automatic denial that was on his lips as he studied Aragorn.  Though Aragorn hid it well, Halhigal could sense an underlying nervousness in him and he had already determined to do whatever he could to help him as he took his rightful place as Chieftain.  If calling him by name would set him at ease, then Halhigal was willing to do that.  Aragorn was right, they were close kin and the villagers would not think it strange if they called him simply by name.  Glancing at Elrohir, who gave him a very small nod, Halhigal finally said, “If that is your wish, then of course we will call you Aragorn.”

            “Thank you,” Estel said, giving his uncle a brief smile.

            “It will be easier,” Halbarad remarked, “as that’s what I called you before.”

            Estel blinked and gave him a questioning look, “Before?”

            Halbarad shrugged, “When you were little.  I was five when you left and I remember you quite clearly, though you weren’t much fun to play with at that age.  You never could catch me,” he said, a look of remembrance in his eye.

            “I was only two when I left, Halbarad, and I rather think I could catch you now,” Estel said, a hint of challenge in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. 

Halbarad grinned and started to reply when Halhigal cleared his throat, giving Halbarad a stern look before turning his gaze to Aragorn.  “Aragorn, I would like to introduce you to the other men now,” he said quietly.

            “Yes, of course, Uncle,” Estel murmured, slightly embarrassed that he had gotten so caught up in speaking with Halbarad that he had almost forgotten about the other men.  He gave Halbarad one last glance and turned to meet the rest of his men.

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Reviewers: Many thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

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Author’s Note:  Return of the King calls Halbarad Aragorn’s kinsman and obviously I have made him a cousin.  Also there is no reference as to his age that I could find and it best suited this story to have them close in age. 

Because the Dúnedain live so long, I believe that they mature later than most men and I base that on two things.  First, Gilraen was 22 when she married Arathorn and her father was opposed to it because she was too young and not of an age when their women normally married (Appendix A in Return of the King). That indicates to me that most Dúnedain women did not marry until they were somewhere between the ages of 25 – 30.  Also in Appendix A it says that Elrond looked at Aragorn at the age of 20 and saw that he was early come to manhood though he would continue to grow in mind and body.  Again, that indicates that Dúnedain men mature later than most men, which makes sense if you are going to live until you are over 150 years old or so.  Of course, Aragorn lived until he was 210, but he was of the purest strain of Dúnedain blood. 

Those are the reasons that I use to explain why, for example, Halbarad at the age of 23 is just now going out on patrols.  Or why a 17-year old might be considered a boy or a girl and not a young man or a young woman, etc.

Elvish Translations:

Adar – Father
Ada – Daddy
Nana – Mom, Mommy
Naneth - Mother

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

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Chapter 2

            As the men of the village drifted back to their homes, Estel looked after them, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to remember all of their names and how they were related to each other.  The fact that most of the Dúnedain tended to have dark hair and some shade of grey eyes did not help him at this particular time.  Most of the men had been welcoming, if somewhat reserved as they greeted him and he was not sure if the reserve was part of their natural tendency or because they were waiting to pass judgment on him as their Chieftain.  However, in spite of their reserve, Estel sensed that most of the men looked up to him in a way that he could not define and he knew that what Elladan had told him earlier was true.  That the Dúnedain would follow him simply because of who he was and not because he had earned his place as their leader and that responsibility suddenly seemed even more overwhelming to him.  Yet it was not something that he could change and he realized that he needed to learn about his people and their ways quickly so that he not endanger them by making some foolish mistake out of ignorance.

            “Aragorn?” Halhigal’s questioning voice brought Estel out of his musing and he looked at his uncle as the older man continued.  “As I explained earlier, we will have a welcoming feast tomorrow evening when, hopefully, Caladel’s patrol will have returned, but Nimrie has supper ready for us now.”  He indicated the house behind him.  Halhigal turned to go in and then looked back over his shoulder at Elladan and Elrohir, “You are also welcome to join us, my lords,” a faint smile crossed his lips.

            “Thank you, Halhigal,” Elrohir said with a small bow and smile, “I would be most glad to join you this evening.”  Elladan simply nodded his acceptance of the invitation.  Estel watched the interaction between Elrohir and Halhigal with interest, knowing that they had been friends for a long time.  Elrohir had often mentioned Halhigal, though of course the name meant nothing to Estel at the time, he was just one of the Rangers his brothers often rode out with when they hunted down orcs.  Both Elladan and Elrohir had also been close friends with Arathorn and had been with him when he died and Estel had learned many things about Arathorn from them in the last six months.

            Estel took a deep breath before entering the log house, steeling himself for what he knew would probably be another…interesting experience.  From comments his brothers had made over the years he knew that even though the Dúnedain did live differently than other men, there was still the problem of having easily available heated water and it was harder for them to bathe as frequently as elves did.  While Estel had been vaguely aware of the smell of unwashed bodies as he spoke to the men, it was not something that he had paid much attention to as he focused on learning their names.  It was just something else he had to become accustomed to, he thought wryly as he entered the house.  He blinked his eyes rapidly as he entered a large room that appeared to be a combination sitting room, dining room, and kitchen area.  The smoke from the fire made his eyes water and he wondered if the chimney did not have a proper draw on it and that was what was causing the smoke to filter into the room.  But the look on Halhigal’s face told him otherwise as his uncle crossed to the fire and spoke to Nimrie before helping her adjust the damper which began clearing the smoke from the room.  At least the smoke covered any other smells in the room.  He turned as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

            “How do you fare, young one?” Elrohir asked in a low voice, a small smile on his lips, but his grey eyes intent and serious.  He was concerned after watching Estel meet the men.  Elrohir had seen their looks of surprise when Estel had called Elrond his adar and had seen some of the men’s wary looks, though most of the men had seemed pleased enough after speaking with their newly returned Chieftain.

            Estel scowled at him briefly over the nickname, more because it was expected than from any real annoyance.  “I am all right, Elrohir,” he replied softly, his gaze flicking to Elladan to include him in his answer.  He paused and tried to put his thoughts into words.  “It is an interesting place, and I sense that they are good people.  I have even more to learn than I realized,” he said and then lowered his voice even further, “I like my kin, though I do not see why you said that Halhigal is like Naneth,” he commented, looking at Elladan.

            Elladan stared at him impassively as he replied, “You have barely met the man, Estel.  As I have known him for many years, I believe that I am better able to judge if he is like her or not.”

            “He is,” Elrohir added, “though I do not know if you will see that as easily as we do.  It might be harder for a son to see those things.”

            “Perhaps,” Estel conceded with a slight shrug.  “I suppose it does not…”

            They were interrupted by Halbarad.  “It’s time to eat, Aragorn, my lords,” he said, motioning them to the table on the other side of the room.  Halbarad led Aragorn to the chair at the head of the table while Elladan and Elrohir went automatically to the far side of the table and sat on a bench they used whenever they visited with Halhigal and his family.

            Estel remained standing and gave Halbarad a puzzled look as his cousin sat on a bench next to the chair and opposite the twins.  “Is this not your father’s chair?” he asked quietly, glancing at Halhigal as his uncle approached the table carrying a small cask of what Estel assumed was ale.  Nimrie looked up from the other end of the table at his question and then resumed dishing out the venison stew she had prepared and handing bowls of it to Elladan and Elrohir.

            “It is where I usually sit,” Halhigal acknowledged as he set the cask on a small side table and carefully pried the cork out and began pouring the ale into cups.  “But you may sit there,” he said as he began handing the ale to the ones already seated.

            “I’ll sit by Halbarad, I do not want to take your place,” Estel replied and his cousin obligingly moved down the bench and Estel was beginning to sit when his uncle looked directly at him.

            “But your place is at the head of the table, Aragorn.  You are the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, even here among your kin.”

            Estel straightened back up and returned Halhigal’s steady regard with a long look of his own, sensing his uncle was talking about far more than just where he sat, as he was, in fact, taking over leadership from Halhigal.  “I know very well who I am, Uncle, and whether I sit in the chair or on a bench does not change the fact that I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur and Chieftain of the Dúnedain.”  Estel looked briefly down at the floor and then met his uncle’s eyes again, “My uncle should sit at the head of the table in his own home, I suspect there will be many other times for me to sit in a place of honor,” he said quietly before sitting down next to Halbarad, his eyes never leaving Halhigal’s.

            “Sit, Halhigal,” Nimrie directed from the opposite end of the table, “the food is getting cold.”

            Halhigal glanced at his wife and nodded before settling into his chair, giving Aragorn a thoughtful look, “Yes, there will be,” he finally said before turning to speak with Elrohir.  As he spoke with the elf, part of his mind was focused on Aragorn as he tried to understand his young Chieftain and nephew.  He well understood the slight uneasiness that he could sense in Aragorn; he had just recently learned of his lineage and heritage and that was a lot for a young man to be burdened with all at once.  It was not as if Aragorn had grown up with the knowledge that he would one day be in this position, or had any type of example to follow.  It had been thrust on him unexpectedly and now he had to take on the role of Chieftain all at once with little knowledge of what that would entail.  Yet he was younger than his own son, Halbarad, who was just now being allowed to join patrols.

            And yet even in the very brief time Halhigal had known Aragorn, he saw glimmers of a hidden strength in his Chieftain that surprised him.  Few men that he knew would have stood up to him the way Aragorn had just done.  Halhigal well knew how most of the Dúnedain perceived him; he was considered a strong, stern leader who did not back down when he felt he was right and yet he just had.  That Aragorn was compassionate did not particularly surprise Halhigal, Gilraen was one of the most compassionate women he knew and being raised with elves would also have nurtured that quality in Aragorn.  That his compassion would so quickly surface with a grandmother he had just met and in front of a group of men he did not know, did surprise him, however.  Halhigal started when a hand was laid on his arm and he looked up into Elrohir’s amused eyes and he realized he had become so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had not heard the last question his friend had asked him.

            Elrohir glanced at Estel who was speaking with Halbarad and Nimrie before he leaned over and spoke softly to Halhigal.  “Do not seek to understand everything about him today, Mellon-nín.  You will not be able to do so; it will take time for him to adjust to his life here and time for you to truly know him.  But both will happen,” the elf said firmly.

            “Yes, of course,” he murmured, idly stirring the stew in his bowl with his spoon for a moment and shifting in his chair which creaked under his weight.  The noise caught Estel’s attention and he turned his grey eyes to Halhigal for a brief moment and then looked at Elrohir who gave him a faint smile before the young man turned back to his conversation with Halbarad and Nimrie.  Deciding that Elrohir was right and that there was more than enough time to get to know Aragorn in the days and weeks ahead, Halhigal pushed thoughts of his Chieftain to the back of his mind and began asking Elrohir, and also Elladan, if they had seen any sign of orc activity on their way to Dolomar.

0-0-0

            “Where do you want to live, Aragorn?  You may stay here with us - we have an extra room - or there is the chieftain’s house… your house now, of course.”

            His aunt’s question caught Estel off guard and he thought quickly as she continued to speak, explaining that the women of the village would be happy to bring him meals and clean the house for him.  While Estel knew he would like the privacy that living in his own home would provide, he wondered if that would be the best thing for him.  If he truly wanted to get to know his people and their customs and traditions, then it would probably be best to live with his aunt and uncle.  Estel also did not like the thought of having women bringing him meals and cleaning his house when he was perfectly capable of doing those things himself and he did not know how he could refuse that without hurting someone’s feelings.  He gave his aunt a small smile, “If you truly have the room, Aunt Nimrie, then I would like to stay here.  If that would not place too much of a burden on you,” he hastened to add.  Glancing at Halhigal from the corner of his eye he saw that his uncle appeared mildly surprised, but Estel turned his attention back to Nimrie as she laughed.

            “Of course you won’t be a burden, Aragorn.  You’re kin and besides,” she let out a resigned sigh and looked at her husband, “I imagine you’ll be gone just as much as Halhigal is and now Halbarad is starting to go out with the patrols.  But,” her face brightened, “if you’re living here it’ll be easier for you to start teaching me a little more about healing when you’re in the village.”

            “Yes, it will be,” Estel nodded.  He hesitated briefly and then asked, “Do all of the villages rely on untrained healers?”

            “It depends what you mean by trained,” Nimrie replied slowly.  “I’ve heard that some have more training than I do because their mothers or fathers were healers and so they’ve been around healers all their lives.  Some became healers the way I did, their healer died and there wasn’t anyone else to do it.  I had helped our healer from time to time and so it fell to me to do it when she passed.”

            Estel narrowed his eyes, appalled that there were few trained healers amongst his people.  Opening his mouth to say more, he quickly shut it, realizing that he needed to wait and see how things were in the other villages.  He needed to learn from his uncle before he made any suggestions or changes, Halhigal had led his people for eighteen years and had, of course, lived in the village of Dolomar for more than fifty years before that.  He was not in Imladris anymore Estel reminded himself sternly where a comment he might make could be taken lightly.  Amongst the Dúnedain things he said would be taken seriously and so he needed to be cautious until he was confident that what he was speaking about was possible or really needed to be done.  But Estel did believe that having trained healers was important, even if he could only teach his aunt as he had time so he said, “When we have time in the next few days, you will have to show me what herbs you use, and your healing room, if you have one set aside, and I will begin teaching you what I know.”

            Nimrie smiled as she arose from the table and began clearing the dishes.  “Halbarad, show Aragorn his room,” she said.  “Rosruin brought his packs and set them on the bench outside.  Your packs are also out there, my lords,” she continued, glancing at Elladan and Elrohir.  “Where will you sleep tonight?”

            Elladan glanced at his brother who gave him an almost imperceptible nod, “We will sleep out under the stars, Lady Nimrie.”  Nimrie gave them a knowing smile, she had been around the two brothers long enough to know that it was difficult for them to stay inside the house.  Only on the coldest of winter nights did they do so.  But she had thought they might want to share a room with Aragorn this last night at least.

            Halbarad stood and led Aragorn outside while his father remained at the table still speaking with the elven brothers.  Hearing the deep breath Aragorn took as soon as they stepped through the door, Halbarad chuckled softly and glanced at his cousin, but he could not see his expression in what little light shone through the window.  “You’ll get used to it,” he commented.

            Estel did not even pretend that he did not know what Halbarad was speaking about.  “I will,” he said quietly, turning his gaze up to the stars.  He quickly looked back down again because the stars reminded him of Arwen, the Evenstar, and that was not something he could think about right now.  The longing for something he could never have brought too much pain to his heart.  Estel knew he could never love another woman and yet he knew that someday he would have to marry and have a son to continue his line.  He shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind, he had many years yet before that became a concern.

            “Do you smoke?” Halbarad asked, holding up his pipe.  Estel wrinkled his nose in distaste and Halbarad laughed again.  “You have many things to get used to, Cousin.  I think every man in the village over the age of twenty smokes a pipe.”  Halbarad started filling the pipe with pipe-weed and Estel watched him curiously, his eyes having adjusted now to the lower light level.

            “Why?”

            Halbarad shrugged, “It’s soothing… it gives you something to do.  I really don’t know,” he finally confessed.  Using his flint and steel he quickly struck a small spark to light the pipe almost without looking at it.  Estel watched him puffing on it for a moment and then wandered a few steps away and stopped under a large tree, leaning against it with his arms crossed.  His aunt and uncle’s house was at the far end of the village from the gate and so there were only a few houses nearby, but he could hear the faint sounds of people talking and the occasional laughter of children which brought a smile to his lips.  Estel glanced at Halbarad as he joined him, still puffing on the pipe, and he was thankful that his cousin was standing downwind.  “I meant what I said earlier,” Halbarad said, staring into the darkness, “I’m glad you’re back, Aragorn.  Though,” he paused and looked back at his cousin, “I’m sure this probably all seems so… different to you.”

            “It is, but I will become accustomed to it.  I may need your help though and I will probably be asking you many questions,” Estel said, giving Halbarad a small smile.

            “Yes, sure,” Halbarad nodded.  “Did you really just find out your true name and lineage?”  Estel nodded.  “Why didn’t they tell you before?”

            “Because my adar… Lord Elrond,” Estel explained at Halbarad’s questioning look.  “He has been my adar since I went to Imladris and I have no memory of Arathorn,” he added in a whisper.  “But I honor his memory and my brothers and my naneth have now told me more of him, personal things instead of just facts and…”

            “You don’t have to say that to me, Aragorn,” Halbarad interrupted him quietly.  “I barely remember him either, but I know that the older men, both here and in the other villages, might be… well, surprised at least.”

            “I will not change on calling him my adar,” Estel said firmly, “my naneth never minded that I called him that,” he shrugged.  They turned as the door opened behind them and Elladan and Elrohir came out in search of their packs and a place to sleep.

            “I should show you your room,” Halbarad said, walking over to the bench beside the door, “Which packs are yours, Aragorn?” he asked.

            “Estel’s packs are the ones to the left,” Elladan said as he gathered up his own pack and bedroll.

            “Estel?  Why do you call him hope?” Halbarad looked at the brothers in confusion.

            “We could not call him by his true name and Adar gave him that name soon after he arrived,” Elrohir explained with an elegant shrug of his shoulders.  “I fear that our younger brother will always be Estel to us.”  He reached over and lightly grasped Estel’s shoulder affectionately.

            “It’s an interesting name, Cousin,” Halbarad said with a faint smile, “and I suppose it fits with an elvish family.  Though, I think I’ll still call you Aragorn,”  He realized that here was another thing that Aragorn had to change and the enormity of everything that his cousin was having to adjust to made him wonder how he would handle it all.

            “I like the name,” Estel said, returning Halbarad’s smile.  “But then I did not realize I had a different one until six months ago.  Will you show me my room now?”  Halbarad nodded and led the way inside and Estel told his brothers good-night before he followed his cousin into the house.  His room was small, as he had known it would be.  It was less than a quarter of the size of the room he had in Imladris, but it did have a small window to let in light.  There was a bed, a high-backed chair, a small two-drawer dresser with a pitcher and basin on top and along one wall were several hooks so that he could hang up his clothing.  Several woven rugs covered the wooden floor and Estel fingered the soft, green quilt on the bed and smiled, knowing that his aunt had put the best one that she had on his bed.  Removing his sword he carefully hung it from the back of the chair, within easy reach of where he would be sleeping.  Estel turned to his packs then and quickly hung up his spare clothing and put things in drawers before storing his bedroll and things that would not fit in the drawers under his bed.  He turned to the pitcher of water on the dresser and sighing softly poured some of the cool water into the basin before grabbing a cloth and the rough bar of soap and cleaning his face and hands.  As Estel dried his hands a loose thread in the towel caught in the ring he wore and after he worked it loose he stood staring at the sparkling emerald in the ring.  The history of his ancestors was carried in this heirloom of his house and he idly traced the serpents and flowers with his finger.  He shook himself from his musings, removed his boots and clothing and got into bed.  After blowing out the lamp, he lay awake for a long time, his hands clasped behind his head as he stared up towards the ceiling, lost in thought.

0-0-0

            Standing at the gates of the village in the faint light that heralded the rising of the sun, Estel and his brothers took leave of each other.  “You will do well, muindor-nín,” Elladan said quietly as he embraced Estel.  He kept his hands on the young man’s shoulders as he stepped back and his piercing grey eyes studied him intently, knowing he would miss his youngest brother in the months and years ahead.  “Remember that Adar would not have told you of your heritage if he did not believe that you were ready for this.  Heed Halhigal’s counsel, and do what you believe is best for your people.  You have learned from the very best of teachers, Estel, do not doubt yourself.”  Elladan embraced him again.

            “I will remember your words,” Estel replied, “Navaer, Elladan.  Be well.”  He turned to Elrohir and embraced him tightly.   “You also be safe as you journey, muindor-nín, I shall miss you.”

            “And I will miss you,” the elf replied with a smile.  Elrohir paused as he considered the young man before him.  He knew he would see Estel again in a few years, once his brother had settled into his role as Chieftain.  But Elrohir knew that things would not be the same between them ever again, that his younger brother would have changed during that time, matured in the way that men did so quickly at this age of their lives.  He had seen it happen with many of Estel’s ancestors over the last several thousand years, though he had never been as close to any of them as he was to Estel.  “I will watch over your naneth whenever I am in Imladris.” Estel gave him a grateful smile.  “This may seem like a strange thing to say, Estel, but try and enjoy this time.”  Elrohir smiled at the puzzled look the young man gave him and he continued in a quiet voice, laying his hand on Estel’s shoulder.  “Yes, enjoy it.  I know that some parts may be difficult for you, but you should already see some things that you will enjoy.  Teaching Nimrie about healing will be one thing and I believe that you and Halbarad are getting along well.  There will be other things as well.  Do not become so overburdened with the responsibilities that you now have, young one, that you do not enjoy life.”

            “I will try not to,” Estel said slowly, “and I do like Halbarad,” he added with a smile.

            “I thought as much.  Navaer, Estel.  Elrohir kissed his brow and embraced him before mounting his horse.  The two elves rode through the gates and Estel watched them until they were out of sight before turning back to the village.  A black and white dog lay in the lane behind him and it thumped its tail and lifted its head in greeting.  Estel crouched down and fondled its ears and spoke to the dog for a moment before walking on.  People were beginning to stir now from the houses as Estel began to slowly walk back towards his uncle’s house.  He and his brothers had gotten up very early so that the two elves could leave with the dawn for their journey south to Tharbad and then east to Lothlórien.  Reaching the smithy, Estel paused at the opening and looked around curiously, wondering if there was one man who did the smithing work for the village or if each man did his own work as needed.  The forge was unlit in any case.  As he moved towards the next building a slight movement caught the corner of his eye and his hand went to his sword and then stilled as he turned and saw a boy sitting on a small bench almost hidden back between the two buildings.  As Estel looked closer he realized the boy was older than he had first thought, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and the movement that had caught his eye was when the boy had turned the page of the book he was reading.  Wondering what book brought a boy out to read at this time of the morning, especially when it was so cool, Estel turned down between the buildings to speak with him.  So engrossed was he in the book, the boy did not look up until Estel spoke.

            “What are you reading?”

            Alvist jumped and almost dropped his precious book into the dew-dampened grass.  “Don’t scare me like that!  I almost dropped my book,” he said, irritably, not looking up as he checked the book for damage.

            “Forgive me,” Estel said.  A smile covered his face, both because of the fact the boy very obviously loved to read, which was something that he, himself enjoyed doing, and because he knew that the boy would be embarrassed as soon as he looked up and saw who he was speaking to.  “Is the book undamaged?”

            “Yes,” Alvist said with a sigh, finally looking up.  His eyes widened and his face paled as he jumped to his feet.  “F-forgive m-me, Lord Aragorn,” he said, bowing.  “I-I didn’t…”

            “Peace, it is all right,” Estel said with a small laugh.  “I should not have startled you like that.  What is your name?”

            “Alvist, my lord,” he replied, swallowing hard, but otherwise recovered from the shock of seeing his Chieftain standing in front of him in the early morning light.

            “What are you reading?  May I see your book?”

            Alvist handed it to Estel and he began flipping through the pages as Alvist began telling him about it.  “It’s a history of Númenor, my lord, it’s very good.”  Estel recognized it as a book that he had read and the print as one that Erestor had copied out – a long time ago by the looks of the binding.  He was not surprised that some books from Imladris had been given to the people of Dolomar.

            “It is a good book,” Estel nodded, handing it back, “I read that one several years ago.  Why are you sitting out here reading?  It is very cool to be outside at this time of day.”

            “My naneth lets me come here because my little sister wakes up and is very noisy in the morning and later I’m too busy too read,” Alvist shrugged.  “I’d rather come here than not be able to read at all.” 

            “I understand,” Estel said quietly and then asked, “How old are you?”

            “Fifteen, my lord,” he straightened up.

            “What do you do the rest of the day?” Estel asked, deciding that he might as well find out how the boys spent their days.  He gestured for Alvist to sit back down and Estel joined him on the bench.

            Alvist knew that the Chieftain had been raised in Imladris and didn’t really know how things worked in Dolomar so he tried to answer him as completely as he could.  “It depends on the time of year, my lord, but right now we’re harvesting the crops and that takes a lot of extra work.  I also help take care of the sheep and the cows and, of course, our own chickens.  In the spring and summer we also have big vegetable gardens to take care of.  I go out with the other boys and help get firewood.”  Estel raised his eyebrows at the thought of boys this young out in the woods and he wondered if any men went along, but he made no comment and let Alvist continue.  “Boys my age and older help with the watch at the gate, but only during the day and two of us work together because it takes two of us to close it.  Of course, then we have to practice with our bows and swords and that takes time, too.”  His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment and then he shrugged.  “I think that’s all, my lord.”

            “You are busy, Alvist, and it sounds like you work hard for… our people.  I understand why you take this time in the morning by yourself,” Estel commented quietly.  He had questions but he decided to direct those to Halhigal instead of to Alvist who might not know the answers.  Standing and stretching, Estel looked down at the boy standing alongside him and gave him a small smile.  “Forgive me for interrupting your morning.  I brought a few books with me and you may borrow any of them that you have not read.”

            Alvist eyes sparkled, “Thank you, Lord Aragorn.  I would very much like to read some of your books, I’m sure they’re different than the ones here in the village.”  He laughed, “I’ve read all the ones in the village anyway.”

            Estel’s eyes widened, “Truly?  You have already read all the books in the village?”  He did not know how many that might be, but knowing that each village had basic schooling for their children and knowing that the Dúnedain were far more literate than most men in Arnor he assumed that many homes might have at least a few books.

            “Yes, even this one,” he held up the one in his hand.  “But I’m reading it again anyway; I still learn things when I read them a second time.”

            “Yes, you do,” Estel murmured absently, already thinking about ways to get more books to this boy.  He would have to see about contacting Erestor and seeing if things could be sent here.  Estel did not know if it was possible, but it was something he intended to find out.  Something else he would have to speak with Halhigal about, he decided.  He glanced down at the boy who was biting his lip, an anxious look in his eyes.  Estel laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “I will see what I can do about getting more books for you, Alvist.  I do not know if it is possible, but I will try.”  Estel did not know what the future held and he wanted to nurture any gifts or interests his young men and women had, at least if it was possible.  Alvist would become a Ranger, like almost every boy in this village, but that did not mean he could not pursue other interests as time allowed.  “I must go before someone thinks I became lost,” Estel said, smiling as he turned to walk away.

            “Thank you, my lord,” Alvist said, bowing deeply.  He watched his Chieftain for a moment and then turned and sprinted around the back of the building to get home as quickly as possible to tell his naneth his news.

            Estel had barely stepped back onto the main lane when he was hailed by Halbarad.  “My adar is looking for you,” he said as neared.

            “Where is he?” Estel asked as he looked around.

            “At the stables; I think he wants to show you those and then take you out to look at the fields and around the outside of the stockade,” Halbarad gave a small shrug. 

            “I saw the stables,” Estel replied as they headed in the direction of the gate, “when I checked on my horse and saw my brothers off.”  Halbarad did not respond other than another small shrug as he was watching a young woman who was approaching.

            “Good morning, Lord Aragorn, Halbarad,” she greeted them with a smile as she walked past with two empty buckets swinging gently from her hands.

            “Good morning, Braniell,” Halbarad replied with a smile of his own, while Estel just inclined his head and said, “Lady.”  Both were quiet as they walked on for several paces and then finally Halbarad asked, “Is she not pretty?”

            Estel gave him a startled look, “That girl?”  Halbarad nodded, puzzled at his response.  “I suppose she is, Halbarad,” he said slowly.  “I confess that I was trying to remember whose daughter she is.  I think she is Faelon’s daughter, is she not?”  He could not and would never tell Halbarad or anyone about his love for Arwen whose beauty so overwhelmed him that it made it hard for him to see beauty in other women.

            Halbarad nodded again and then began to laugh quietly, “I think you might be the only man I know who would be more concerned about who the father of a pretty girl is than the girl herself.  But then you are young,” he pointed out with a small grin as they neared the stables.

            “I have been told that more times than you can imagine, Cousin,” Estel said, shaking his head.  “Being surrounded by elves, who are thousands of years old and who were often quick to point out my youth, it hardly impresses me for you, who are a mere three years older than I, to point out my lack of years.”  He gave Halbarad a brief grin as they entered the stable.  Halbarad chuckled as he followed behind.

            Halhigal was waiting with a man that Estel remembered was named Ladreníl.  Ladreníl had been injured by orcs years before and now walked with a severe limp and had also lost his left eye.  “Good morning, Ladreníl,” Estel greeted the man and the man bowed slightly and returned the greeting.  “Halbarad said you were looking for me, Uncle,” he said, turning to Halhigal with a questioning look.

            “I thought to show you the stables and then take you outside the walls and show you around, but Rosruin informed me that you were already here this morning with… your brothers,” Halhigal said with just the slightest bit of hesitation, not used to thinking of Aragorn as having brothers.  “So we will go and look at the fields and livestock and such.  I asked Ladreníl to join us because he is in charge of the village when I am away.”  Estel gave the man an appraising look and Ladreníl returned his intent gaze steadily; Estel gave a small nod and turned back to his uncle to find he was watching him with narrowed eyes.  “Ladreníl also trains our boys and young men in archery,” Halhigal continued after a moment.  “He is an excellent archer.”

            “Who teaches them swordplay?”

            Halhigal grimaced.  “Right now their fathers do what teaching they can when they are here and Ladreníl does some, although,” he shot the man a rueful glance, “the sword is not his best weapon and I’m reluctant to have him do much teaching.”  At Aragorn’s questioning look he continued, “The man who taught our boys died about a year ago and I do not have enough men to pull one back from the patrols to teach them.”

            Estel frowned and stared down at the straw covered floor of the stable.  He knew how important it was for them to have skilled teachers for all of the weapons they used.  Soon they would be out facing orcs, wolves, wargs, and other evil creatures of darkness, or perhaps simply bandits who sometimes plagued these parts of Eriador.  If they did not have the proper skills, then his men could quickly be killed, it was a problem that must be overcome quickly.  He looked back up and met his uncle’s questioning eyes and spoke quietly, “Perhaps once I know a little more and can be out patrolling with the men, then you will be able to have someone teach them.  I know how important it is… do you have someone in mind?”

            “Yes, I do,” Halhigal nodded, “He’s very good with a sword and I think it might be time for him to stop patrolling.”

            “Will he work well with the boys?” Estel asked sharply.  Something about the way his uncle made the remark about the man needing to stop patrolling made him wonder.  He did not want just anyone working with them even if they were good with a sword.  Having been taught by Glorfindel, who was always firm with him, yet patient and understanding, he wanted someone similar for these boys.  He had sensed that Ladreníl was a patient and kind man and so with Halhigal’s knowledge of his skills Estel felt he probably worked well with the boys and young men.

            Startled by the sharpness in Aragorn’s voice, Halhigal blinked and then nodded, “Yes, I believe he will, Aragorn, but when you meet him if you don’t think so then we can find someone else.”  He gave Aragorn a small smile, “It will be your decision of course,” he pointed out.

            “Yes, I suppose it is,” Estel agreed after a moment’s pause.

            “Who taught you to use a sword, Aragorn?” Halbarad asked.  Halhigal motioned them toward the door and Aragorn answered as they walked outside and towards the gate.

            “Lord Glorfindel taught me how to use my sword, though my brothers also helped from time to time and I sparred with them quite frequently.  Elrohir is an excellent archer and I learned archery mostly from him, though again I had other teachers at times.”

            “Lord Elrohir is the best archer I’ve ever seen,” Ladreníl commented.  At Aragorn’s questioning look he continued quietly.  “I rode out with him and Lord Elladan many times, Lord Aragorn.  This,” he gestured to his face and leg, “only happened ten years ago.”

            “Are you better with a sword or a bow, Aragorn?” Halbarad asked, glancing at his cousin from the corner of his eye.  He wanted to ask him to spar, but he was not sure if he should do that so soon after meeting him as he was three years older and he did not want to embarrass his cousin.  Though Aragorn had been trained by elves and that worried him a bit.

            “A sword,” Estel gave his cousin a very brief smile.  He knew how good he was even though he had never sparred with a man before.  But he had been trained by and sparred with elves for half his life and from things his brothers had told him, Estel knew that his skills were probably greater than any of the Dúnedain.  Though of course he would never say that to anyone nor would he ever approach a sparring match with that in mind, but he was very confident of his sword skills.

            “Would you like to spar later if there is time?” Halbarad asked. 

Estel eyed him for a moment and then shrugged, “If there is time.”

            “I would like to spar with you as well,” Halhigal said, even though he had a very good idea how well trained Aragorn was with a sword.

            “Why do I have this feeling that many men are going to want to spar with me?” Estel mused softly, gazing into the distance for a moment before looking back at his uncle.  “Yes, of course I will spar with you.”

            The talk then turned to how the village was run and they spent the rest of the morning looking at the herd of cows, the flock of sheep, and walking through the fields.  They talked briefly to the people who were harvesting the crops.  Most of the villagers were in the fields that day, only a few had stayed behind to care for the smallest children and some who were standing guard at the gates.  Harvest required everyone’s help and Halhigal could feel Aragorn’s uneasiness at merely watching and his desire to help with the work but he made no comment and instead turned to show the Chieftain the sheds used for the making of soap and candles and the one for the tanning of hides. 

            Estel learned that while individual families owned the cows and the sheep, all of the boys of the village were responsible for caring for them.  They had to take the animals to and from the pens inside the stockade each morning and evening and help the women milk the cows.  The sheep were kept for the wool they provided and were even more highly prized than the cows.  The majority of the clothing that the villagers wore came from the cloth spun from the wool.  Any extra cloth was taken by the men to villages like Bree to be traded for things that were needed.

            The crops belonged to the whole village and were shared as each family needed and it was the same with the summer gardens, though some families planted additional vegetables that they particularly enjoyed.  Because the men of the village were gone the majority of the time and were not usually able to hunt for their families, meat that was brought in was typically shared.  The young men went out as often as they could in search of deer and other large game, and the other men that remained in the village who were not yet too old or were uninjured joined them whenever possible.  Some of the boys had traps out for smaller game such as rabbits and also went fishing in the nearby stream.  Estel was becoming more and more appalled at the hard life the women and children had to endure, not that he thought it was any easier on the men. 

            As they walked back to the village Halhigal and Ladreníl continued answering Aragorn’s many questions.  Ladreníl was impressed by both the types of questions his Chieftain was asking and the fact that the young man was not content with just a simple answer.  He wanted his questions answered completely and was not satisfied until they were.  Ladreníl was eighty-two and had served under three chieftains - Arathorn, Arador, and Argonui - and had been somewhat skeptical of having such a young man taking over as Chieftain even if he was the son of Arathorn and the heir of Isildur.  While Ladreníl still intended to reserve his judgment on Aragorn until he observed him for a time, he already felt much relieved.  As they walked back down the main lane of the village, he pointed out the house to the right of the Community Hall.  “That is your house, Lord Aragorn, you were born there.”

            Estel stopped and looked at the house.  It looked little different than the other houses, except that he could tell that the women had spent time cleaning it as the window was sparkling and new curtains hung there.  “I would like to see it,” he said quietly and moved towards the door.  The three other men started to follow and he stopped again and looked between them and the house and then shook his head.  “I would like to do this alone.  Were there other things you intended to show me today, Ladreníl?”  The man shook his head and Estel looked at his uncle.  “And did you have things you thought I should see?”

            “No,” Halhigal shook his head, his eyes softening with understanding as he looked at his nephew, “but we can talk when you’re finished here, I’ll be at home.”

            “All right,” Estel nodded and walked up to the door of the house and with just the slightest bit of hesitation, opened the door and walked in.  He stood, leaning back against the door for a moment, to let his eyes adjust and then looked around somewhat hesitantly.  He was not sure what he expected to see, but the room was little different than his aunt and uncle’s home.  Pushing off from the door, Estel walked first to the hearth and ran his hand gently across the mantle and looked at the pegs above it that might have held a sword.  The sword Arathorn, Arador, and others of his line had wielded.  A sword he had been given several months ago and yet remained hidden with the shards of Narsil with his bedroll and other items under the bed in his room.  It was something he did not feel comfortable using; he had not yet earned the right to wield it.  With a small sigh, Estel turned and moved to the table, wondering how many meals Arathorn…his father and his naneth had actually gotten to sit together and eat at it.  He knew that things had been worse then than they were now.  Ten years ago, the dragon, Smaug, had been killed and the Battle of the Five Armies after his death had killed off a considerable number of orcs in the northern parts of Middle-earth.  Though Estel knew it was just a matter of time until the number of orcs in the Misty Mountains increased again. 

            Like his uncle’s home, this house - Estel had a hard time calling it his, though he knew that eventually he would move into it – also had three bedrooms and he quickly glanced into each of them.  One was empty and the other two were furnished similarly to his own.  He wondered which one he had been born in and then smiled inwardly, wondering why it even mattered.  Standing in the middle of the main room, Estel took one last look around, somewhat disappointed that some type of memories had not been triggered by looking through the house even though he knew that everything was different than it had been and he had only been two when he had left.  Still, he had hoped that he might have some memories of this house even if he had none of the village itself. 

            Stepping outside, Estel immediately spotted Halbarad leaning against a nearby tree, obviously waiting for him and he gave him a questioning look.

            Halbarad just shrugged slightly, “I thought you might need to spar now.”  He did not know what memories might have been stirred up by going into the house, but he thought it might help Aragorn take his mind off things by practicing his swordplay.

            Estel gave him a long considering look and then he gave his cousin a very small smile, “I believe I do need to spar, Halbarad.  Lead the way.”

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Elvish Translations:

Adar – Father
Muindor-nín – My brother
Navaer - Farewell
Naneth - Mother

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

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Chapter 3

            Halbarad led Aragorn to Dolomar’s training field – the large open area in the center of the village, which was only a few steps from where they were standing.  “This is where we spar, Aragorn,” he held out his arms to indicate the whole area.

            Estel glanced around, taking in the closeness of the houses and other buildings, the nearby well, and thought about the fact that children had been using this area for play the previous day.  He wondered why they used the village center when they should practice in a more isolated spot.  The boys went out daily to tend to the herds and flocks, to gather wood, and to work in the fields and he could not understand the reason to have the training field here.  He gave Halbarad a questioning look.  “Why do you practice in the middle of the village?  Is there not a better place outside the walls?”

            “It’s because of the training weapons the boys use for practice.  We don’t leave anything like that outside the gates in case the village is attacked.  The enemy doesn’t need more weapons, even blunt ones can easily be sharpened,” Halbarad replied with a scowl.  “It’s easier to store them in that small building there and practice here,” he shrugged.  “At least for swordplay and Ladreníl uses it for the smallest boys to begin to teach them archery.  How to stand, how to grip the bow, and nock the arrow, and then he takes them to an area behind the stable and the youngest ones can start learning how to release the arrow.”  Halbarad shrugged again, “It seems to work.”

            “Has the village been attacked often?” Estel asked as he removed his cloak, folding it neatly and setting it under the tree.  He began stretching his arms and legs as he listened to Halbarad’s response to his question. 

            Halbarad stood still, staring at the ground, lost in his memories as he slowly answered Aragorn.  “We were attacked three years ago and then,” his brow furrowed as he thought.  “I remember at least two other times when I was much younger, around the time you left or soon after, I think.  Though mostly what I remember is the noise and the screams and the...” his voice trailed off and he shook his head.  “There was a long time when it was rather peaceful,” he said with a grim smile.  “But of course we can never let our guard down, Aragorn.”  Halbarad finally looked up at his Chieftain who had stilled and was looking at his cousin with an expression that Halbarad could only describe as a mixture of horror and deep compassion.  He stepped hesitantly towards Halbarad and then stopped.

            “Did many die?  Did orcs get over the walls?  Were there any men here to help?” Estel’s questions came tumbling out.

            Holding up his hand to stop the flow of questions, Halbarad began answering in a low voice.  “I don’t know about the earlier battles because I was too young and it’s all just sort of a blur to me.”  He finally removed his brown cloak and tossed it beside Aragorn’s and began swinging his arms to stretch the muscles as he continued speaking, needing the movement as the memories resurfaced.  Halbarad noticed absently that Aragorn followed his lead, though his mind was clearly on what he was saying and not on warming up.  “Three years ago we lost five of our people; one young girl, two women and two boys.  I say boys, but they were actually young men of eighteen and nineteen…”

            “About your age at that time,” Estel interrupted.

            “Yes,” Halbarad acknowledged.  He paused and stared at the ground, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

            “I am sorry,” Estel said softly, stepping forward and grasping Halbarad’s shoulder tightly for a moment.

            Halbarad nodded and continued with an almost impassive expression on his face.  Only his eyes showed the full extent of his grief.  “We had some warning that the orcs were coming as one of the perimeter guards had gotten back to us in time.  But there were no patrols here, just the few men that are always here, those either injured or too old to patrol, the sword master was here then too.  But it was mostly us young men and some of the older boys who fought and the women, of course.  They are all good with either a bow or a sword, even Naneth,” Halbarad said with a sad smile.  “Ladreníl was in charge and he’s good, Aragorn,” he looked up and met his cousin’s eyes briefly, “but it’s a big village and there are not very many of us and a group of orcs got in over the walls behind the smithy.  We had all of the children gathered in the Hall and a few of the women were there to keep watch over them.”  Halbarad took a deep breath and resumed stretching, pulling his sword this time and sighting along the blade for a moment.  “The two young men that were killed were in that area,” he finally continued tonelessly.  “They fought well and were able to raise the alarm and help came, but we were too late to save them.  One died immediately and the other died of his wounds later.  They killed quite a few orcs, but not enough to save… “ Halbarad cleared his throat and looked at Aragorn and then away.

            “You need not continue,” Estel said softly.  “I do not need to know what else happened; you have said enough for me to understand something of the horrors of that night.”  He was again appalled at the lives the people lead and he realized how sheltered he had been in Imladris.  When he went out with his brothers to hunt for orcs, he always was able to return to a safe and well-protected home.  The Dúnedain left their loved ones behind in danger to go and seek out orcs and to protect the peoples of Eriador from evil.  Estel had known this of course, but seeing the reality of it was quite different.

            “All I will say is that a few orcs got into the Hall and two women and one girl died.  One of the women was the healer and that’s why Naneth is now the healer for the village.  Are you ready to spar now?” Halbarad asked.

            Blinking at the abrupt change in subjects, Estel nodded even as he wondered if this would be a good time to spar with Halbarad.  If his emotional state would make it too difficult for him to concentrate on what he was doing, especially as they were not using practice blades.  Deciding that if Halbarad seemed to be having problems he would stop, Estel pulled his sword and inspected it briefly before walking to the middle of the cleared area and turning to face his cousin.  “Are you ready?” he asked and at Halbarad’s nod, Estel brought his sword into a defensive position and began circling his cousin, eyeing him warily as he moved around to the right.  He noted each movement that Halbarad made as his cousin moved in step with him.  The loud clanging sounds of steel striking steel and then screeching as the swords slid apart filled the air.  They exchanged a series of thrusts and parries, but neither found an opening.  Seeing what he thought might be an opening, Estel tried to slip his sword in and touch his cousin’s side, but Halbarad deftly blocked it.  The pace was slow for a moment or two as each tried to get a sense of the other and then Estel slowly sped things up as he sensed that Halbarad could handle a faster pace.  As the speed increased though, Estel began taking over the match and Halbarad was unable to mount any type of offensive moves against him.  Halbarad started backpedaling as Estel drove him back relentlessly and in a few minutes his sword snaked past Halbarad’s defenses.  After flipping his cousin’s sword from his hand, Estel then tapped his upper leg with the flat of his blade and the match was over.  They backed apart, taking deep breaths and stared at each other for a long moment until Halbarad finally broke the silence.

            “You’re as good as an elf.”

            Estel cocked his head and gave him a half smile, “I assure you, I am not.  Of course, I was trained by them and have sparred with them for years.”

            “Will you teach me?  Help me to become better at least.”

            Surprised by the request, yet strangely pleased, Estel gave a brisk nod.  “We should go; your adar is waiting for us.”  He checked his sword and returned it to its sheath.

            “Naneth probably has lunch ready,” Halbarad commented as he retrieved his sword and checked it closely before re-sheathing it.

            “I know not, but your adar is waiting for us under the tree.”  He continued at Halbarad’s questioning look, “He arrived as you and I were sparring.”

            “You saw him arrive?”  Halbarad was surprised that Aragorn had noticed since he had appeared so focused on him while they sparred.

            “Well, yes,” Estel answered uncertainly, he had been taught to be both focused on who or what he was fighting as well as to be aware of his surroundings. 

            “You have the eyes of an elf too,” Halbarad muttered as they walked towards Halhigal, but there was no response from his Chieftain.

            “Perhaps you should teach our boys and young men how to use a sword,” Halhigal said as they drew near.

            “I think I would enjoy that.  However, I do seem to have a few other responsibilities,” Estel commented dryly.

            Halhigal gave a small snort of amusement, and Halbarad grinned.  “Nimrie has lunch ready,” Halhigal said and turned towards his house.  Picking up their cloaks and slinging them over their shoulders, the two younger men followed him.

            “Where are the rest of the men?” Estel asked after a moment.  He had looked for them earlier and had not seen them in the fields with the others.

            “Hunting,” his uncle replied.  “We are trying to get in as much meat as possible before winter and anytime the men are here they go out hunting.”

            “I should have gone with them,” Estel said quietly.

            Halhigal stopped, laying a hand on his nephew’s arm and bringing him to a halt as well.  He gave him a long appraising look before he spoke.  “Aragorn there will be times for you to do those kinds of things.  To work in the fields alongside the others, to hunt and help fill the storage sheds for the winter months, and to do other things around this village that simply need to be done.  Yet there are also times when you need to let others do for you.  You are the Chieftain of the Dúnedain and your people expect you to act as that Chieftain and to let them serve you.”  Halhigal paused briefly.  “Does Lord Elrond go out and hunt for the food that appears on his table?” he asked.  Estel shook his head, his eyes never leaving his uncle’s, his brow furrowed.  “I thought not.  Right now you are learning the ways of your people and it was more important for you to be here doing that.  I chose to have Halbarad stay here today knowing that you might feel more comfortable asking him questions than asking either me or Ladreníl.  When you are riding with the men it will be different, and you will be doing all that the other men do, but not here,” he finished in a quiet voice.  He gave Aragorn a searching look to see if he understood.

            “I understand the necessity of that right now while I am learning,” Estel finally responded.  “And I will heed your counsel about letting the people serve me at times, but I will also do for myself,” he said firmly.  “My people do not need additional burdens.”

            “They do not consider it a burden,” Halhigal said softly, “it is an honor to be allowed to serve you.”  He paused and carefully considered his words.  “Aragorn, you are my Chieftain and I consider it an honor to help you learn about your people and how things are done amongst the Dúnedain.”  He gave a small shrug and looked at Halbarad who was watching Aragorn rather intently.

            “Aragorn, you are my cousin before anything else,” Halbarad said, smiling and ignoring the slight frown of his father and focusing instead on the surprised, but pleased expression of Aragorn.  “Yet, I never forget that you are also my Chieftain and I will always honor and respect that and do whatever I can to serve you.  Adar is right,” he finished in a low voice, his bluish grey eyes studying Aragorn.

            Estel bowed his head briefly and then slowly nodded.  In his heart he did not agree with all that they were saying, yet he was willing to trust in their knowledge of his people and to abide by what they said.  At least until he learned more about his people and their ways. 

            “I’m sure our food is getting cold,” Halhigal said, turning to continue on their way to the house and the other two fell into step beside him.

            “My adar would go out and hunt for food if his people were in need,” Estel said, giving his uncle a sidelong glance.  Halhigal bit back a smile at the stubbornness of his nephew, though he knew that same stubbornness would serve him well in the long, hard years ahead.

0-0-0

            Estel stepped out of the house and into the late afternoon sun after his long talk with Halhigal about the organization of the Dúnedain and how he would be kept apprised of what occurred in the other villages and with the Rangers that patrolled across the vast stretches of Eriador.  Blinking in the sunlight, he gazed down and across the lane at the house where his grandmother lived.  He had been surprised that she had not joined them for any of the meals and had thought it might be due to his presence, but Halhigal had explained that she seldom ate with them.  That since the death of her husband she preferred to keep to herself, though she did have several women friends in the village that she saw frequently when they gathered together to sew.  Estel heard the note of grief in his uncle’s voice as he spoke and he could understand that.  Estel too had had to watch his naneth grieve for a missing husband and had been unable to help her and he well understood his uncle’s frustration.  Looking down at the small package in his hand, he took a deep breath and started towards his grandmother’s house.  It was not that he did not want to see her or try and get to know her, but Estel did not want to bring his grandmother pain or discomfort.  Yet his naneth had asked him to give her this small gift and he did not want to put it off.  After knocking lightly on the door, he took a small step back and waited patiently to see if she would even come to the door as Halbarad had told him that sometimes she did not respond.  But after a few long moments the door creaked open and his grandmother stood peering up at him with not a hint of welcome in her eyes.  Estel bowed, “Good afternoon, Grandmother,” he said with a gentle, if somewhat nervous smile.

            “Oh.  It’s you, is it?  Well, what do you want?  I have things to do,” Ivorwen asked curtly as she pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders against the cool autumn air as she stared at this grandson of hers.  He reminded her far too much of the son-in-law who had died and had been the cause of her daughter leaving her all those years ago.

            So much for honoring and respecting her Chieftain Estel thought with something like amusement even as he answered her.  “My naneth asked me to give you this,” he replied, holding out the carefully wrapped package.

            “Gilraen sent me this?” Ivorwen whispered, reaching for it with trembling hands.

            “Yes, and there is a letter in there as well as a gift,” Estel said as he released the package into her hands.  As he watched her caress the package he wondered if this was the first thing she had received from his naneth in eighteen years.  If so, he wondered why.  Elladan and Elrohir often rode with the Rangers and could have easily brought something from his naneth to her.  “Grandmother,” his voice was carefully respectful, “is this the first package or letter you have received from my naneth since we left?”

            Ivorwen paused in her examination of the package and scowled up at him, “Yes,” she answered shortly and turned to go back in.

            “Why?”

            “Ask your uncle,” she replied without looking back.  The door clicked shut and Estel stood staring at the door for a moment before turning away.  “That went well,” he muttered under his breath as he walked back towards his uncle’s house. 

           The squeal of children’s laughter caught his attention and he paused and looked to see the young children again playing at the village center while two women sat nearby watching them and talking with one another, small smiles crossing their faces even in the brief moment he watched them.  Perhaps there were more times of peace and joy here than he thought was possible, Estel considered thoughtfully. Changing his mind about returning to the house, Estel walked down towards the village gates.  He could hear the sounds of wood being chopped and both boys and girls were carrying armloads of it into the houses to feed the fires that were cooking the food being prepared for the feast.  A small line had formed at the well now and girls were giggling and laughing quietly as they waited for their turn, Estel smiled at them as he passed and ignored the whispers that he heard.  The sheds used for storing the food for the village had their doors propped open and a few women were taking what they needed.  Estel quietly greeted those he passed, but most people were hurrying about their work and he did not stop to speak with them, instead his keen grey eyes observed and took in many of the small details that made up the life of the village.

            As Estel approached the gate, one of the groups of hunters, the one led by Faelon, returned.  They brought with them four deer and numerous rabbits and water fowl.  Their feet were wet from tramping around in the marshes that were a couple of miles west of the village and Estel’s eyes narrowed in concern as his healer’s instincts took over and he worried about the possibility of them becoming sick.  He relaxed slightly as he heard Faelon quietly direct the men to take the meat to the sheds to be dried and then to go home and dry themselves as well, reminding them that they were leaving early in the morning.  The men inclined their heads and greeted Estel as they passed him, and he waited as Faelon approached with an inquiring look on his face. 

           “Good afternoon, Lord Aragorn,” Faelon said with a slight bow, wondering what his Chieftain would require of him when he simply desired to go and spend a few more hours with his wife before he had to leave again for months.

            “Faelon,” Estel greeted him in return.  “Your hunt went well today,” he observed as they turned away from the gate and back toward the houses.

            Faelon grimaced and shook his head, “But it’s not enough, my lord.  Though, I think we have more meat stored up than we did last year, and the crops were good this year.  They will get by,” he gazed up at the rapidly darkening sky for a moment before glancing back at Aragorn, “they always do.”

            Estel nodded, frowning; there was little he could say to that.  From what he had observed it appeared that the women and children did indeed struggle through and get by with what they had.  Instead he said, “Halhigal told me that your patrol will take you west.”

           “Yes, around the Weather Hills mostly.  With winter coming on, there will be wolves, and possibly orcs coming down from the north.”  Faelon’s feet slowed as they neared his house.  “A few of the patrols from some of the other villages will also be in the general area around Bree and we’ll do what we can to keep the evil creatures away,” he said.  He stopped in front of his house, wondering if Aragorn had more questions for him.

           However, Estel was once again thinking of how the men were leaving to protect other families from danger and leaving their own behind to struggle through a hard winter.  Suddenly realizing that they had stopped, he looked at the house and back at Faelon.  “Forgive me, Faelon, I am keeping you from your family and that was not my intent.”

           “I know it wasn’t, my lord, but unless you have questions for me, I would like to spend time with my wife before the feast and before I have to leave in the morning.”

           “No, no, I have no questions for you,” Estel started to walk away and then turned back, “Enjoy your time with your family, Faelon, I can already sense how precious they are to you,” he said before he continued back to his uncle’s house, leaving a puzzled Faelon looking after him.

0-0-0

            Estel had, of course had special celebrations in his honor before - for his birthdays.  However, it was not quite the same as having a welcoming feast and feeling the eyes of all present watching your every move.  Halhigal had spoken briefly of the peoples’ joy on his return and then the food had been served.  It was simple fare – roasted meat, potatoes, fresh corn, and bread - but it was delicious tasting nonetheless.  Eating at the table with Estel and his kin, including his grandmother, were Ladreníl and his family, and Faelon and his family.  The other patrol leader, Dorlas, sat at a table nearby, but Caladel and his patrol had not yet returned.  Earlier in the day, Estel had wondered at the presence of all the patrols in the village and his uncle had just given him a look before dryly explaining that, for some reason, the men wanted to be in Dolomar to greet their Chieftain on his return.  Estel had nodded and changed the subject, though part of him wondered at the wisdom of leaving areas un-patrolled simply so that the Rangers could greet him.

            Since the tables in the Hall were long and narrow with benches on each side of them, there was no specific place of honor and so Estel sat on a bench towards the middle of the table in the front of the Hall with Halhigal and Nimrie to his left and Halbarad and Ivorwen to his right.  His grandmother spoke few words the entire evening and none to him, but at least she had shown up and Estel knew that pleased his uncle.  Across from him sat Faelon and to his right his wife, Arthiell, and then Braniell and Balrant.  To the left of Faelon sat Ladreníl and to his left was his wife, Alpheth and his daughter, Gaerwen.  Sitting next to Gaerwen was Ladreníl’s father, Sírdhim, the oldest man in the village.  Ladreníl’s son, Gilost, was part of the patrol that had not yet arrived as was Faelon’s older son, Baisael.

            “Lord Aragorn?”

            Estel looked up from his dinner at the quiet questioning voice to discover that Gaerwen, who had not said a word the entire meal, had addressed him.  “Yes, lady?” he responded, wondering if her quietness was due to him or if she was shy by nature.

            “What is Rivendell like?  Did you like living there?” Gaerwen bit her lip as she watched him, hoping it wasn’t an improper question, but Aragorn smiled and she released the breath she had been holding.

            “Yes, I did like living there, it was my home,” Estel replied simply.  “It is hard to describe, lady.  It is beautiful, of course.  It is set in a deep valley and the homes and buildings are surrounded by rivers and there are waterfalls that cascade down from the sides of the steep valley walls.  There are many gardens all around the grounds of Imladris and different flowers bloom at different times of the year.  The… “ Estel stopped as he noticed that all at the table were giving him strange looks and he decided that perhaps he had been sounding a little too enthusiastic about his home, but it was beautiful and he had been asked to describe it he thought with an inward sigh.

            “Sounds just like Dolomar,” Sírdhim commented sarcastically, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the young Chieftain.

            Ignoring the indrawn breath of his uncle and the sarcastic tone of Sírdhim, Estel chose to respond to the comment itself.  “No, it is not anything like Dolomar, Sírdhim.  But it is where I lived for eighteen years.  However, my home is here now… with my people.”  His eyes did not leave the older man’s.

            “Humph,” Sírdhim grunted, “Yes, but your adar is there,” he continued coldly.  He had not forgotten Aragorn’s words of the day before and had not been pleased at the implication that Elrond had taken the place of Arathorn in the heart of his Chieftain.

            Struggling to control the sudden surge of anger that flowed through him, Estel looked down at his clenched fists in his lap for a moment.  Finally raising his head, he gazed at those across from him to find that the faces of the men and women were shuttered and unreadable while the two younger ladies were looking down.  Only Balrant looked confused, though when he noticed Estel looking at him he grinned.  He looked at Halbarad from the corner of his eye when his cousin gently kicked his foot and he relaxed slightly knowing he had at least one friend at this table, two if he counted the seven year old Balrant.  Estel did his best to keep his voice level and under control.  “I wish that I could have known my father, Arathorn, yet I did not.  I know that you did, as did most of the people in this village.  But, Sírdhim, just because I hold Lord Elrond to be my adar does not mean that I do not respect and honor the memory of Arathorn.”  He paused, considering and choosing his words carefully.  “As you well know, I have only just learned of him and, perhaps, you and others here will be able to tell me more of him and of my grandfather as well.  Both of my grandfathers,” he added after a brief pause.  “I truly would like to know more of all of my kin.  However,” his piercing grey eyes swept over the others briefly before settling back on Sírdhim, “I will always consider Lord Elrond to be my adar simply because he was the one who was there as I grew up.  The one who taught me the things a father teaches a son and who loved me as one of his own.” 

           Deciding that there was nothing more that he could say, Estel turned deliberately back to his food even though he would rather have left the Hall and found a place where he could be alone with his thoughts.  He could not understand why the people, at least some of them, felt this way.  Did they wish that he had not had any sort of fatherly affection in his life?  Was it because Elrond was an elf?  He did not believe that to be true, it truly must be their admiration for Arathorn and concern that he would not, perhaps, honor the customs of the Dúnedain.  Estel knew that all of his ancestors back to Valandil, son of Isildur, had spent some time in Imladris during their youth, though he also knew that they were fully aware of their heritage and most had fathers waiting for them at home.  He knew that because he had not known either of those things, and because he had been so young when he had gone to Imladris, his relationship with Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir was far different than any of his ancestors.

            “I watched you spar with Halbarad,” Ladreníl spoke up, wanting to change the subject.  “You’re quite good for someone so young, my lord.”

            Sighing inwardly at the reference to his age, Estel looked up and met Ladreníl’s eye and was surprised to see a hint of embarrassment there and he wondered if it was from the words his father had spoken and how he had said them.  “Thank you,” he replied simply.  His gaze shifted to the others and he was relieved to see that they also had begun eating again, though Sírdhim was idly rubbing his thumb along the edge of his fork and looking away from anyone at the table.

            “I know I’ve never sparred with anyone so good,” Halbarad said.  “Aragorn’s very quick on his feet and with his hands,” he shook his head, “I could hardly follow the movement of his sword.”

            “That’s not unusual,” Faelon said with a small smile.  “You’ve always had trouble following the movements of a sword, Halbarad.”  He glanced quickly at Halhigal to see that the angry glare he had been directing at Sírdhim had softened and the former leader was now listening to their conversation, much to Faelon’s relief.

            Halbarad shrugged, knowing exactly why Faelon was jesting with him, “Maybe, but he’s going to help me become better.  Perhaps he can help you as well,” he said with a smile of his own.

            “Oh, I thought Halbarad held his own for a couple of minutes,” Halhigal said with a brief glance at his son.  “But I think Aragorn was just toying with him,” he allowed a note of teasing to enter his voice, perfectly willing to use his son to further break the tension that had already eased considerably from the earlier words between Sírdhim and Aragorn.

            Estel gave a sidelong look at Halbarad to see that he was smiling at his father’s comment and he relaxed.  “I do not think that Halbarad would allow me to just toy with him, Uncle,” he said.  “I enjoyed sparring with someone different, someone I have not sparred with many times already.”  He stopped short of mentioning it was interesting to spar with a man instead on an elf, and that Halbarad was much slower than anyone he had ever sparred with before.

            “Will you teach me how to use a sword, Aragorn?” Balrant piped up from the end of the table.

            “It’s Lord Aragorn,” Arthiell corrected him immediately.

            “Lord Aragorn,” he agreed still looking eagerly at Aragorn.

            Smiling at the young boy, Estel thought carefully before he answered him.  He knew it would be several years before Balrant actually started to learn to wield a sword and Estel did not know where he might be at that time.  He did not want to make a promise he could not keep.  “Balrant, I cannot be here to teach you all that you need to know about how to wield a sword.  Just like your father and your brother, I must go out with the patrols to protect the people of Eriador, just as you will do someday.  However, when you are older I will show you some of the things that I have learned about how to wield a sword; things that will help make you a better swordsman.  How would that be?” Estel asked kindly, seeing the disappointment in the boy’s eyes.

            “That’s all right, my lord,” Balrant said with a deep sigh.  “I was just hoping you might be staying here and not going off like everyone else has to.”  His sister, Braniell, laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

            “He’s the Chieftain, Balrant, it’s his duty to go out and lead the Rangers,” Arthiell reminded him softly.

            “I know, Nana,” he replied, his shoulders slumping, his fork pushing food around on his plate.

            Estel did not know how, or even if he should respond and he looked at Faelon who just shook his head slightly.

            A loud banging sound as the door to the Hall flew open brought everyone quickly to their feet, the men with hands to the hilts of their swords.  Rosruin, one of the young men on guard duty at the gate, rushed up to Halhigal.  “Caladel’s patrol has returned,” he said, panting and out of breath.  “But some men are wounded and they are taking them directly to the healing room.”

0-0-0

To be continued…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 4

            There was a moment of silence after Rosruin’s announcement about the returned patrol and the injured Rangers and then noise filled the Hall as people began talking, benches were pushed back, and people rushed towards the door.  “Stop!” Halhigal’s strong, commanding voice rose above the noise and people froze and looked back at him with looks of surprise.  Estel had not moved away from the table.  His mind was focused on the wounded men and he was prepared to go with Nimrie, but she had not moved either and was apparently waiting for Halhigal to take charge of the situation.

Halhigal opened his mouth to give directions to the people and then abruptly glanced at Aragorn and a quick look of dismay crossed his face.  He leaned over to speak with him, “Forgive me, my lord,” he whispered apologetically, “I didn’t mean to take your place.  What would you have us do?”

            Startled, Estel looked at Halhigal blankly for a moment and then, realizing that he was in charge of the village, he forced his mind and heart to slow while he quickly thought about what they needed to do.  Assuming the Rangers had been fighting orcs, they would first need to protect the women and children in case any orcs remained in the area.  “We need to leave the women and children here in the Hall and send the men out to make sure that the gate is secure,” he replied quietly, yet decisively.  “We will have to talk with Caladel and see if they destroyed all of the orcs and then send men out to make sure,” Estel added.  Halhigal nodded in approval and indicated that Estel needed to speak to the villagers who were staring at them and shifting uneasily, clearly wanting direction.  “I want the women and children to stay here in the Hall,” Estel called out, his calm, steady voice carrying easily throughout the room.  “I want the men and boys sixteen and older to come with me.”  He glanced at his aunt, “Nimrie will you go and take care of the wounded?  I will come by and see them as soon as I can.”  She nodded and hurried out a side door as Estel strode quickly from the main door of the Hall followed by the other men.

            Outside in the darkness several horses were milling about and Estel sent Rosruin and another boy to lead them to the stables.  Dorlas and three other men were sent to the gate to make sure it was secured and to help the young men on guard there.  Spotting a light shining out of an open doorway of one of the small buildings near the smithy and a couple of men clustered around the doorway, Estel swiftly moved in that direction.

            “Halhigal!” Baisael called as he turned and saw Halhigal and a group of men approaching.  “We were ambushed by orcs not five miles from here.  Caladel and Gilost are injured,” he paused at the sharp indrawn breath of Ladreníl and then the man pushed past him and limped into the building with Sírdhim right behind.

            “Did you kill all of the orcs?” Estel asked, drawing Baisael’s attention to him. 

Baisael looked at him, at Halhigal and then back to Aragorn.  “Lord Aragorn?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes.  Did you kill all the orcs?” he asked again, somewhat impatiently.

            “Yes, well at least I think so, my lord,” he hedged.  “It did not seem to be a large troop, perhaps twelve or fifteen and the five of us were pushing them back and seemed to be overcoming the orcs until they got hurt,” Baisael jerked his head towards the building.  “It became more difficult then as we had to protect them as well as fight,” he frowned.  “I don’t think any escaped, my lord, but the brush is thick along the trail and around that clearing,” he finished.

            Estel nodded, looking him over carefully for injuries absently noting his resemblance to Balrant as he did so.  He spotted blood on his leggings and the sleeves of his tunic.  “Are you injured?” he asked pointing to the stains.

            Baisael shook his head and lightly touched his blood-stained sleeve, “It’s not mine; Caladel rode before me on my horse.”

            “Where are the other men of your patrol?” he asked.  Estel glanced up at the quarter moon and grimaced slightly.  At least there are no clouds he thought with relief.  He did not relish the thought of hunting orcs at night, especially in the low light, but he could not take a chance on letting any of them escape and threatening people at another time.

            Baisael glanced around and then shrugged, “They must have gone inside, Talagan was just here.”

            “What do you plan to do, my lord?” Halhigal looked closely at Aragorn, trying to get him to think about what they needed to do next.

            Estel gazed at his uncle for a moment knowing full well what he was doing and then he turned back to Baisael.  “Get the other members of your patrol and wait here for me.”  Baisael nodded and went into the building while Estel moved a short distance away and Halhigal followed him.

            “What do you mean to do?” Halhigal asked again, pitching his voice low so it would not carry to the other men.

            “I mean to go out and make sure they are dead.  We cannot take the chance that some have survived.”

            “You are going to do it now.”  It was more of a statement than a question.

            “Yes.”  There was a pause and a look of uncertainty crossed Estel’s face as he looked at his uncle.  “Do you not think we should do it now?  Should we wait until morning?”

            “No, we should do it now,” Halhigal said quickly, “though I wish there were more light,” he too grimaced as he briefly glanced at the moon.  “I wasn’t questioning you, Aragorn.”

            “Uncle,” Estel glanced over his uncle’s shoulder to the waiting men and then met Halhigal’s eyes with an intensity that startled the older man.  “While I would prefer not to be questioned in front of the men,” he said quietly, “I would rather that happen than to have men killed because of my lack of experience or knowledge.  I am well aware of my youth and I want your advice in situations like this.  You will not offend me,” Estel paused and looked away briefly, “and yet I also know that I have the responsibility to make the final decision on what has to be done.”

            Halhigal nodded, “Yes you do, my lord,” he replied softly.  “Tell me what you planned and I will give you my thoughts.”

            “I thought to take out a small patrol,” Estel said.  “Have at least one of Caladel’s men go with us to guide us to the site of the ambush and check to see if they killed them all.  If not, then track them down.”

            “Were you planning on leading the patrol?”

            “Yes, of course,” Estel replied, startled that there would be any doubt on the part of his uncle.

            “I would advise against it, my lord,” Halhigal said, carefully watching his Chieftain to see how he would take his advice.  He continued at Aragorn’s questioning look.  “You do not know the area around the village as do the other men and until you do, I suggest that you allow Dorlas, Faelon, or I to lead the patrol.”

            Estel ran his hands through his hair and furrowed his brow in thought for a brief moment.  It galled him to let someone else lead the patrol when it was his responsibility to do so, yet he knew his uncle was right and he would not let his pride stand in the way.  With Ladreníl’s son injured, Estel decided it would probably be best to have Halhigal stay in the village to take charge in case there were some kind of attack and that left Faelon or Dorlas to lead the patrol.  “I am going,” he said firmly, gazing at his uncle who nodded once.  “I would like you to stay here and I will have Faelon lead the patrol.”  Halhigal nodded again.

            “I think you should take Talagan instead of Baisael, Talagan is older and more experienced.  Unfortunately our best tracker is Gilost,” he said, frowning.

            “I am fairly good at tracking,” Estel commented before walking over to the assembled men and boys.  “Faelon, I would like you to lead a small patrol out to make sure they killed all of the orcs and to see if there are any more in the area.”  Faelon nodded.  “Where is Talagan?” he looked around and a man stepped forward.  “We have not met,” he said, reaching over and clasping the man’s arm and Talagan bowed slightly and murmured a greeting to his Chieftain.  “I would like you to go and show Faelon the site of the ambush.  Faelon, I am also going with you.”  Faelon’s eyes widened but he made no comment.  “I think that two or three other men should be sufficient and I will let you decide who to take.”  Estel deliberately did not look towards Halbarad.  “I know we need to leave as soon as possible but I am going to check on the wounded and I know we need to get the horses ready and gather our weapons.  How long before we leave?”

            Faelon narrowed his eyes as he thought about the place where the men had been ambushed and then he shook his head, “We won’t be taking horses, my lord.  I want to stay off the main trail and with the brush in that area it will be much easier on foot.  We can meet at the gate in fifteen minutes.”  It wouldn’t take that long to gather their weapons but if Aragorn was going to look at the wounded men then Faelon wanted to give him enough time to do so.

            “I will be there,” Estel said turning towards the healing room and motioning Halhigal to join him.  “Will you send one of the boys to get my bow, my cloak, and my small pack of healing supplies which is on the chair in my room?”

            “I will go, my lord,” Halhigal said turning to run down the lane. 

            Estel watched him go reminding himself to speak to Halhigal later about calling him ‘my lord’ and then hurried into the healing room.  He took in the room at a quick glance.  There were four beds in the room, two of which had men lying on them.  One man was moaning quietly, and the other was lying perfectly still, obviously unconscious.  The beds were arranged in a row in the middle of the room and on the far side of the room, across from the door, stood a long counter with shelves above it that held the herbs, salves, bandaging supplies, and the various instruments that were used.  There was a fire to the left of the door and there were many holders along the walls for candles and oil lamps and the room was well lit. 

            Alpheth was kneeling next to the unconscious Gilost, wiping a damp cloth over her son’s face and crooning softly while Ladreníl sat on the edge of the bed holding his hand.  Sírdhim stood at the end of the bed with his arm wrapped around Gaerwen’s shoulder as she watched her brother with a worried frown, her head leaning against her grandfather’s chest. 

           Nimrie was working on Caladel and his wife, Emeldir, was kneeling on the opposite side of the bed, watching the healer’s every move as she caressed his hand.  “Do you need my help, Aunt?” Estel asked as he looked over her shoulder at the long somewhat deep gash she was stitching across the upper part of Caladel’s chest.  Another bloody bandage was high on his left arm near his shoulder.  While serious, the wounds did not appear to be life-threatening.  Estel could see that his aunt had done a thorough job of cleaning the wound and that the herbs she had used were appropriate to prevent infection.  Of course as someone who had sewn most of her life, her stitches were small and neat.

            “Not with Caladel, but you could check Gilost again, Aragorn.  He has a wound that will need to be stitched but he fell and hit his head and that concerns me.  His neck seems to be all right, but you might check his ribs.  I don’t think any are broken, but he seemed to flinch a bit when I touched his right side.”

            Estel nodded and moved towards the other bed and then paused and glanced back at Nimrie.  “Do you have any athelas?”

            Nimrie did not look up but nodded her head as she replied.  “Yes, a few dried leaves, I haven’t used it much, Aragorn.  It’s not as effective for us as it is for you and I’ve used other herbs instead, as did our last healer.”

            “I will show you how you may use it at another time,” Estel commented.  “Halhigal is bringing my pack and I have some leaves that have been recently picked.”  Stepping to the counter he scanned the various herbs and supplies that were there as he carefully washed his hands in the basin of hot water that Nimrie had pointed out.  When he finished, he motioned Ladreníl to move back and he crouched down next to Gilost.  He gently laid his hand on Alpheth’s to stop the cloth from moving over Gilost’s face and she looked up at him with anguished eyes.  “Alpheth, would you please get me a basin of hot water and then some clean cloths?” he asked softly.  He would have asked Ladreníl but Estel knew that she needed something to do to help her son.  Alpheth hurried to the fire and poured steaming water from the kettle into one of the basins sitting on the table and she carefully carried it back and set it on the floor before going to grab a pile of cloths from the counter at the far end of the room.  While she was gone, Estel pulled back the blanket covering his leg and unwrapped the bandage on Gilost’s thigh.  He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that the wound itself was not too deep, though it ran from the front of his leg halfway around the side.  He laid a clean cloth over the wound and turned to examine Gilost’s head. 

           Feeling gently around the back and sides of the head to make sure there were no wounds other than the obvious one on Gilost’s left temple, he gave a small nod of satisfaction when he did not find any other injuries.  There was a small amount of dried blood in his hair and on his face and Estel parted Gilost’s hair and found a narrow cut on the top of the swollen knot that was rapidly turning an interesting shade of purple.  He decided it would not need stitches.  Checking the Ranger’s eyes he was pleased to see that they responded to the light in the room and he knew it was just a matter of time until the man woke up.  Estel moved his fingers carefully down and around Gilost’s neck but could not feel anything out of place, not did the Ranger stir.  Sliding the blanket down to his waist, he ran his fingers over Gilost’s ribs, gently pushing on each one.  As Nimrie had mentioned, Gilost flinched when he pressed on three of the ribs on his right side.  Estel did not think they were broken, merely cracked but obviously it was causing Gilost pain and would probably do so for some time.  Estel finally turned to Alpheth and Ladreníl, “He will be well.  It will take time for him to wake up, but I do not believe he is in true danger.  He will most likely be sick to his stomach for a time and he will have headaches for several days, perhaps a week, but he will recover.”

            Estel looked up at a touch on his shoulder and Halhigal handed him his pack and he nodded his thanks.  “I will put your bow and cloak by the door, my lord.”  Estel nodded absently as he searched through his pack for his athelas leaves.  Finding the carefully wrapped packet he pulled it from his pack and set the pack to the side, hurrying as he was aware that he was running out of time.  He blew on the leaf that he had taken out before he crumbled it in his hands and scattered the broken pieces into the steaming basin of water.  He lifted it up and set it near Gilost’s head, breathing in the scent of fresh cut hay that the water had released and he wondered if this man would rather be a farmer than a Ranger since that smell evidently soothed and refreshed him.  Taking a clean cloth he dipped it into the water and carefully cleaned the wound on his head and then gently wiped the blood from his hair and face before neatly tying a bandage around his head.  Moving to the injury on Gilost’s thigh, he took a clean cloth and began washing off the dried blood.  As Estel parted the lips of the wound to make sure it was thoroughly clean and as safe from infection as he could make it, Gilost moved, moaning quietly and he knew that he was starting to awake.  He placed a new clean cloth over the wound, leaving the stitching for Nimrie to do.

            Taking some long strips of material, Estel wound them tightly around Gilost’s ribs to give him some support while they healed.  Ladreníl helped lift his son and Estel gave him a nod of thanks.  “How much time do I have, Uncle?” Estel asked as he straightened up.

            “The men are assembled at the gate now, my lord.”

            Frowning, Estel glanced at Caladel, and made a quick decision.  The orcs would still be there in another five minutes.  “Will you bring me a basin of hot water?” he asked Sírdhim, who hesitated and then moved to follow his request.  Shifting his gaze back to Halhigal he asked “Will you go and tell Faelon that I will be there in a few minutes?”  Halhigal gave a brisk nod and disappeared.  “Thank you,” Estel said with a small smile as he took the basin from Sírdhim and walked to Nimrie’s side and knelt down.  “How does he fare?” he asked as he took out another leaf of athelas.

            “Better, the draught I gave him finally took full effect,” she replied as she neatly tied off the last stitch in his chest.  Nimrie sat back on her heels and turned her gaze to Aragorn, dropping her voice to a whisper.  “How is Gilost?”

            Estel blew on the leaf and crumbled it into the water before he replied.  “He will be well.  You were right about his ribs, though they are not broken all the way just cracked.  You will need to stitch his leg, I must leave.”  The scent of pine trees rose from the steaming water and he smiled.  “Use this to wash Caladel’s wounds; it will help with the healing.”  He looked at Emeldir, who he had not met, and gave her a gentle smile.  “He will recover well, lady, take heart.”  She nodded, her eyes never leaving her husband.  Estel patted Nimrie’s shoulder and then stood, stretching his long lean body before walking over and gathering his things.

            “Be safe, Aragorn,” Nimrie called and he smiled inwardly, touched by her words and reminded of his naneth.  However, he simply nodded as he fastened his pack of healing supplies to his belt before putting on his cloak and then his bow.  He checked Gilost one last time, murmured encouraging words to Alpheth and the others before he headed outside and jogged down to the gate.

            “Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Faelon,” Estel said quietly as he joined the small group of assembled men.  Faelon had selected two others to join the patrol – Halbarad, who looked rather pleased, and a middle-aged Ranger named Dúrvain.  Estel had only spoken with him briefly when they had been introduced the day before and all he knew of him was that he served on Dorlas’s patrol.  He had a sudden, appalled thought.  Faelon should not be leading this patrol; his group of Rangers was leaving in the morning and he should not have asked him to do this.  But then Dorlas’s group was leaving in two days and so he supposed it made little difference… except to Faelon and his family.  Estel grimaced inwardly; he would have to apologize to Faelon later.  He shook off those thoughts and waited for Faelon’s instructions.

            Surprised at Aragorn’s apology, Faelon simply nodded, he knew his Chieftain had been with the wounded men and wondered why he felt it necessary to apologize.  He was finding it hard to understand this young man.  Faelon was not looking forward to leading this patrol with Aragorn as one of its members, though he was interested in seeing how skilled he was in the woods.  However, he knew he had to try and ignore the fact that Aragorn was the Chieftain and to concentrate on what had to be done.

            “I’ll lead the way until we get closer and then you can take over, Talagan.  Dúrvain, you be rear guard.  Halbarad, Lord Aragorn,” he swallowed hard as he gave his instructions, but they were young and he would have said the same to any men of their age, “stay close to me.”  They both nodded.  Faelon turned to the men at the gate and they swung it open just enough so that the five men could slip out. 

           The Rangers headed northwest to skirt the edge of the marshlands that lay directly west of Dolomar.  Even with the low light of the quarter moon the men were able to make good time through the woods.  Faelon led them swiftly and unerringly around the worst of the dense brush in the area and along paths that various animals had made over the years.  They moved almost silently, though Estel noticed that the men did make more noise than any elf ever would but still he was pleased to learn what his Rangers were capable of doing.  As he had been instructed, Estel followed closely behind Faelon, all of his senses alert to his surroundings.  They had been traveling for more than an hour and Estel had just caught a whiff of the stench of orcs when Faelon stopped and crouched down, his body taut as he carefully and quietly pulled his sword from its sheath.

            Faelon glanced back and saw that the others were huddled right behind him.  Halbarad was watching him while Talagan and Aragorn were alertly scanning the area and Dúrvain was keeping a wary eye behind them.  “Talagan,” he said in a low voice, beckoning the Ranger to him.  The man crept to his side and they began talking in low pitched voices.  “I want you to take over now, we must be close.”

            Talagan nodded, “Just a few hundred feet further, the orcs were waiting for us near that rocky outcrop where the trail takes a sharp turn and then widens.”  He got to his feet, his body bent at the waist and his hand tightly gripping his sword as he wove his way through the woods.  The other men followed him after a few moments, their actions mirroring Talagan’s.  Stopping frequently to listen for any sounds of movement, yet hearing none, the five men soon reached the site of the ambush.  Talagan stopped in the bushes at the edge of the trail and waited for the rest of the Rangers to join him.  They could see the bodies of the dead orcs that lay scattered across the trail in front of them; the openness of the small clearing allowing the area to be bathed in what light could be had from the moon.

            Quickly counting the bodies he could see, Estel came up with only ten, perhaps eleven if the dark shape he saw half hidden in the bush on the far side of the trail was an orc.  He frowned; Baisael had thought there were between twelve and fifteen of the foul creatures.  Estel did not sense any particular danger here, but he believed that several orcs had managed to escape and would need to be hunted down.  He pondered what he would do if he were in charge of this patrol, what his brothers or Glorfindel might do while he waited to see what Faelon would do.

            There was no hesitation on Faelon’s part.  He was well aware that there were fewer bodies here than there should have been.  Glancing quickly at the men and using hand signals he split them up.  He sent Halbarad and Talagan to the right and took Aragorn with him back around to the left, leaving Dúrvain behind to protect this side of the trail.  As the two of them worked their way through the brush, Faelon was amazed at Aragorn’s ability to move noiselessly.  He kept glancing back at him to make sure that he was still following.  Reaching the trail a short distance away from the site of the ambush, they stopped and listened intently for any sounds that might indicate the presence of orcs.  Hearing nothing, they quickly crossed the open area and continued their cautious circle of the area around the bodies.  Finding nothing, the two of them waited at the agreed upon tree and were soon joined by Talagan and Halbarad.

            “Anything?” Faelon asked softly.  Both men shook their heads.  “I thought not.  We need to count the bodies, there seem to be fewer here than Baisael mentioned.  What do you think, Talagan?”

            “There doesn’t seem to be as many as there should be.  But,” Talagan shrugged, “you know what a battle can be like.”  The other men nodded. 

            With just the slightest hesitation, Faelon ordered Aragorn and Halbarad to wait while he and Talagan crept out to count the bodies and to make sure the orcs were dead.  He also wanted to make sure that there was not some type of hidden ambush that they had overlooked and he would not endanger all of his men needlessly.

            Estel watched them go with an impassive expression on his face, frustrated at being left behind even though he understood why Faelon had done so.  He glanced at Halbarad when his cousin lightly touched his arm giving him a wry grin and shrugging his shoulders.  Sighing softly, Estel briefly returned his grin and then returned his gaze to the Rangers who were carefully exploring the ambush area.  Dúrvain had joined the other two men now and Estel shifted impatiently.  Since he believed that some of the orcs had escaped, Estel turned his attention to looking for the most likely way they might have gone.  They would not have stayed on the trail; the Rangers would have seen them.  He turned back to Halbarad and whispered, “Which way do you think the orcs would have gone?” 

           Halbarad shrugged and shook his head and then he too began looking around the area for any indication of where the orcs might have escaped.  He knew that the orcs would most likely have come down from the North and so he assumed they would try and make their way back in that direction.  “I assume they will head back north even if they don’t leave this clearing heading that way.”  Estel gave him a thoughtful look and then slowly nodded.  The two young men turned their attention back to the three Rangers as they rejoined them.

           “There are only eleven bodies,” Faelon said with a quiet, resigned sigh.  “We’ll have to hunt for the rest of them.  They might head back north,” he said thoughtfully.  “But if there are four or five of them left, they may stay around, though I think the leader is dead.”  He fixed his eyes on Aragorn.  Faelon knew the tracking abilities of the rest of the men, even of Halbarad, but did not know what Aragorn was capable of doing.  “Lord Aragorn, are you any good at tracking?” he asked bluntly.

           “Yes.” Estel met his gaze without blinking.

            “Good, then I’ll pair you up with Talagan and you two take that side,” he gestured to the opposite side of the clearing.  “Dúrvain take Halbarad and start working your way around to meet them and I’ll go around this side.  Whistle if you find anything.”

            Estel began following Talagan across the clearing but paused in the middle and began studying the bodies of the orcs and reading the tracks that he could make out in the dim moonlight.  He could easily see the hoof prints of the horses as they reared in fright and he could tell that the Rangers had worked hard to bring their mounts under control.  The churned up earth showed the utter chaos of a battle that probably lasted less than ten minutes.  Estel was preparing to move on when something about the body of one of the orcs caught his eye and he stared at it for a moment, puzzled.  After glancing at the other orc bodies, it quickly dawned on him.  All of the belts and harnesses – anything that was used to carry weapons or food - that the orc normally wore had been stripped off of it.  The orc was larger than the others lying around it and Estel assumed it was the leader and probably had the best weapons.  One of the surviving orcs had come back for those weapons and that meant there were tracks that led from this spot he thought grimly.  He just had to find them.

            “Do you see something, my lord?” Talagan’s low voice asked as he walked back to see why Aragorn had stopped.

            “Stop,” Estel commanded softly, not wanting anymore tracks to have to sort out.  It should be much easier to sort out a single track from here than to scour the woods.  Talagan halted immediately, surprised at the depth of authority in that single word.  “Everything has been taken from this orc,” Estel said, without looking up from his intense search of the area as his keen eyes and well-trained mind catalogued each mark, each leaf, and each clump of dirt that surrounded the orc’s body looking for some clue that would help him.

            “I did not see it,” Talagan admitted, “none of us did.”  He crouched down nearby to watch his Chieftain as he worked, though he also kept a wary eye on their surroundings.  “Do you want me to alert Faelon?” he asked after several minutes.

            “Yes, I think you should,” Estel replied just as he spotted what he had been looking for.  He crouched down and examined the outline of the orc’s boot as Talagan let out a low bird call to signal the other Rangers.  He lightly traced the outline with his finger and saw where the straps of the belts had been dragged across the ground as the orc had pulled it from the dead orc’s body.  He had begun following the tracks of the orc when Faelon and the other men joined them.

            “What did you find?” Faelon asked.  Talagan quickly filled him in as Estel continued the slow work of tracking the creature across the churned up ground.  He lost the trail several times but shortly found it again each time as he painstakingly made his way across the clearing, the tracks swerving several times, so he could not be certain in which direction the orc was heading.

            Faelon took in the body of the orc in a glance and quickly realized that what Aragorn had seen was correct and he checked the tracks the younger man was following and he nodded with approval, knowing he was on the right trail.  He then watched Aragorn work with narrowed eyes as he and the other Rangers stood to one side so that they did not disturb the tracks.  It was clear to him that Aragorn knew exactly what he was doing and that he had been well trained by the elves of Imladris.

            Estel paused and glanced over his shoulders at the others, “Faelon,” he called softly and waited until the man joined him.  “Does this look like another orc joined the first one?” he pointed to another indention on the ground that might have been a boot print.  Estel did not want to lose the trail he was following by checking on it and it was too dark to see very far.

            “I will try and trace it back a short distance while you go ahead.”

            Nodding, Estel continued and had only gone a few more feet when he clearly saw that there were, in fact, two sets of boots.  “There are two prints here, Faelon,” he said and the Ranger joined him, crouching down alongside him. 

            “The tracks are going in a straight line now,” Faelon observed quietly.  “Heading straight into the bushes near the rocks,” he paused and then made a decision.  It would take too much time to continue checking the trail this way.  “I am going to check and see if they entered the woods there.  You wait here.”  He patted Aragorn’s shoulder and quickly made his way to the area near the rocks where he thought the orcs had gone.  The ground was not torn up here and he could easily spot the tracks from not two but three orcs.  “Come,” Faelon called to the others and the four men quickly joined him.  Broken twigs from the bushes also littered the ground from when the orcs pushed their way through in their hurry to escape.

            “There is blood,” Halbarad said, crouching down and feeling the damp spots that stained the forest floor.  He stood and wiped his hands off on his leggings.

            “It’s on the bushes too,” Faelon said, pointing it out in several places.  “Aragorn and I will lead the way,” he continued, deciding that his Chieftain’s tracking skills were superior to the other men’s, even his own and he was acknowledged as a good tracker.  “Dúrvain, bring up the rear again.”  He turned and eased his way through the bushes, Aragorn falling into step alongside him.  The broken branches and dark patches of blood on the ground made it easy to follow the trail; the orcs had made no effort to cover their tracks.  They moved rapidly yet cautiously for some time and then slowed as the pace of the fleeing orcs had obviously dropped off.  “They are seeking shelter,” Faelon murmured to Aragorn who nodded, glancing up to see that the moon was now low in the sky and that dawn was not far off.

            “Is there some place around here they could den up for the day?” Estel asked.

            Faelon halted and the other Rangers joined them.  “Halbarad, you know this area even better than I do now, you patrol around here.  Is there a place the orcs would den up for the day?  Someplace close?  Somewhere small and dark?”

            Halbarad stared at the ground, chewing on his lip as he thought.  “There aren’t any caves,” he slowly replied.  “But about a mile ahead and a little to the west of here there are some rather large rocks that might make a good place for them to hide.”

            Frowning, Faelon nodded.  He remembered the place and if the orcs were there it would not be easy to get to them.  But they had no choice and the patrol moved on, still following the trail the orcs had left but now keeping to the shadows as much as possible.  As they suspected, the tracks led to the jumble of rocks and the five men stopped at a safe distance to decide what to do.  The rocks were part of a low ridge that cut across the forest but here rocks had slipped down from the ridge and created a place where the orcs could hide.  This area had less brush and was densely wooded with tall evergreen trees and Faelon could tell that even in daylight it would remain dim and well shadowed.  The only option that Faelon could see would be to wait until dawn and then smoke them out.  At least then the Rangers would not be disadvantaged by the lack of light.  He turned to speak softly to the men eyeing Aragorn carefully to watch his response, but his chieftain’s face remained as impassive as the other men’s, only Halbarad’s eyes showed a trace of anxiety.

            “We’ll have to smoke them out.  The ground inside those rocks must be littered with dry pine needles so if we can set fire to those it should work.  They won’t be able to scale the ridge without us seeing them; we’ll just need to cover the front and the sides.  Dúrvain, you’re a better archer than any of us,” Faelon paused and considered Aragorn briefly, wondering if that were really true but he had no time to test it now.  “You cover the left side of the rocks because I think you’ll have an easier angle to send in a lit arrow from that side.  Do you have some bandaging material in your pack?”  Dúrvain checked the small pack of healing supplies that all the Rangers carried and nodded.  “Talagan and Aragorn take the right side and I want you to send in arrows if you can, I just can’t tell from here if it’s possible.  Halbarad and I will protect the front.  Hopefully the smoke will drive them out and we can use our bows.  If not…” he let the sentence trail off and gave a half-hearted shrug. 

           Faelon watched the men creep off to their positions, his eyes lingering on Aragorn for a moment wondering what he was thinking and then he dismissed the thought from his mind.  He could not afford to be distracted by things that did not matter.  Glancing at Halbarad he noticed the young man was staring blankly at the rocks as he ran his fingers up and down the arrow he was holding.  Faelon reminded himself that while Halbarad had fought orcs once before, he had never had to sit and wait for a battle to begin and that the tension it caused was difficult for those who had never experienced it.  Patting the young Ranger’s shoulder to get his attention, he motioned for him to move several yards to the left.  Partially it was because they needed to spread out to better cover the area but it was also to keep the young man’s mind occupied.  Faelon glanced around and saw that the rocks were becoming more distinct and he thought that they would be able to attack soon. He looked towards the other rangers but he could barely make them out and decided to wait another couple of minutes.

            Estel crouched down next to Talagan and the two of them carefully wrapped small lengths of cloth around their arrows, securing them with a small amount of pitch to help them burn longer.  Then they sat back on their heels and waited for Faelon’s signal.  When it finally came they quickly used their flints to strike sparks and lit the end of the cloth. They sent their arrows soaring into the middle of the rocks; aiming for the place where they could see that appeared to be downed tree branches and pine needles and they hoped it would ignite quickly.  They watched Dúrvain’s arrow arrive at almost the same time.  Nothing happened for several minutes except that a thin column of dark smoke began wafting up out of the rocks and Estel decided that it was not going to work, that they were going to have to go in after them.  But then growls of anger and curses in the black speech came rolling out from the rocks and Estel tightened his grip on his bow and checked one more time to see that his sword was ready to slip free of its sheath. 

            The smoke was thicker and darker now as the pine needles caught and they could hear more curses as the orcs tried to stamp out the flames.  An arrow passed over Estel’s head and he ducked down further behind the tree in front of him before lifting his own bow, aiming it and releasing it towards the orc that had fired at him.  But the orc had moved away and his arrow bounced harmlessly off a rock and he swiftly nocked another arrow.  Arrows were flying from all of the orcs now in a desperate bid to escape from the fire and the smoke and while the Rangers fired back if they had a clear shot, mostly they waited as the smoke made it difficult to see.  They knew that the orcs would be forced to leave their refuge shortly and they could afford to wait for better odds.

            Finally the orcs burst out of the rocks, making a wild dash for freedom.  They had barely cleared the front of the rocks when five bowstrings sang and the three orcs dropped to the ground with arrows lodged in their chests.  The Rangers waited for a few minutes to make sure they were dead and then cautiously walked to the bodies with swords drawn and ready.  When poking and prodding the orcs with the tips of their swords brought no response, the five men exchanged grim smiles of satisfaction and finally relaxed.

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To be continued…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 5

            It was shortly after noon by the time the five man patrol returned to Dolomar.  Their clothes were covered with soot, dirt, and sweat from the hard work of burning all of the dead bodies.  If it was possible, the Dúnedain Rangers did not leave orc bodies to rot and attract scavengers, especially so close to one of their villages.  A small spring had provided them water to clean faces and hands, but the stench of orc and smoke hung heavily about them as they entered the village to the enthusiastic greetings of their families and friends.

            Estel watched as Faelon was greeted by Arthiell who, ignoring his filthy clothes, embraced him right before Balrant hugged him.  He was interested to see that Talagan was Alvist’s father as the boy, his mother, and baby sister greeted the Ranger.  Rosruin stood close by with a worried expression on his face and Estel wondered at that and watched as Talagan greeted Rosruin affectionately, laying an arm around his shoulder and the boy relaxed.  No one met the taciturn Dúrvain who had spoken few words the entire time they were gone; he simply nodded at a few people and walked down the lane and disappeared into one of the houses.  Estel watched them all for a moment and then started to make his way to his uncle’s house so he could clean up before checking on the wounded men.  He was stopped by Halhigal who had been speaking with Halbarad.

            “Halbarad told me what happened,” Halhigal said.  “We’re fortunate that there were not more orcs and you only had a few of them to track down.”  He frowned, “I fear that they’re on the increase again, Aragorn.  That’s the second time in three years they’ve been this close to the village.”

            “Is it the same in the other villages?”

            “We’re the farthest north so if any village is likely to be attacked it’s us, though of course sometimes orcs come in from the south and strike Taurnand or Forntaur.  The two westernmost villages are the least likely to be attacked, especially the last ten years.”

            Nodding, Estel started to walk on and his uncle and cousin joined him.  “How are Gilost and Caladel?”

            “Nimrie is checking on them now, but they’re doing well,” Halhigal replied.  “Gilost awoke not long after you left and last I heard Caladel was demanding to go home, but Nimrie wants him to stay there until at least this evening.”

            “I want to clean up and then check on them,” Estel said, looking down at his filthy clothes with a scowl.

            “It’ll wash off,” Halbarad commented with a grin and Estel turned his scowl on him.

            “Lord Aragorn, Halbarad!” Faelon called.

            The two young men swung around to see what he wanted and Estel noted his approach was rather hesitant.  “Yes, Faelon?”

            Faelon focused on Halbarad and considered his words carefully.  He always made it a point to briefly speak to the young men about how they had done when they returned from a patrol.  While he had no qualms about speaking with Halbarad he was not sure if he should say anything to Aragorn.  Faelon glanced at Halhigal whose eyes held a small glint of amusement and he gave an inward sigh before he spoke.  “You did well Halbarad, you’d be a welcome member of my patrol.”

            “Thank you,” Halbarad said, grinning.  “Now I just have to talk Adar into it,” he cast a sidelong look at Halhigal whose eyes were now stern as he gazed at his son unblinkingly.

            Clearing his throat twice, Faelon turned his gaze to his Chieftain to find he was watching him with a look that might have been amusement but he did not know Aragorn well enough to be sure.  “You’re an excellent tracker, my lord, and I’ve never seen anyone that could move as quietly through the woods and brush as you do.”

            “Thank you, Faelon,” Estel inclined his head, “I had excellent teachers.”  He bit back the comment he wanted to make, unsure if Faelon would be amused if he asked if he also would be welcome as a member of his patrol.

            “I’m sure you did, I’ve ridden with Lords Elladan and Elrohir before,” Faelon commented.  “I’ll take my leave of you now, my lord,” he said with a slight bow.  “I don’t know when exactly my patrol will return – it’ll be sometime in the spring - but I look forward to seeing you then.”  He paused, “I’m glad you’ve returned Lord Aragorn,” Faelon gave his chieftain a small, though genuine smile and started towards his house to clean up before he headed west.

            Estel glanced towards the stables and saw, with some surprise, that horses were being saddled and readied for departure.  He had assumed they would wait and leave in the morning.  “Your patrol need not leave this afternoon, you may wait until morning,” Estel said quietly.

            Faelon shook his head, “We’ve lingered long enough.  It will take us at least a week to get to our patrol area and orcs or wolves may appear at any time.”

            “I suppose so,” Estel looked at the ground for a minute and then gave Faelon a searching look.  “I am glad to have met you and… I know that my men are in good hands when you lead them.  Be well, Faelon, may the Valar protect you.”  He reached out and clasped the Ranger’s arm.

            “Thank you, Lord Aragorn,” Faelon was touched by his young Chieftain’s words and he bowed again before walking over to join an impatiently waiting Balrant and heading for home.

            Deciding that he should speak with the members of Faelon’s patrol before they left, Estel headed to the stable and spoke briefly to each of the men before heading once more towards his uncle’s house.  Nimrie was standing outside the healing room talking animatedly with Halbarad and Estel slowed his steps.  A small smile crossed his lips as he recognized her attitude as being much like his own naneth’s had often been whenever he had returned from a patrol with Elladan and Elrohir.  Concerned and caring and somewhat frightened as she fussed over him to make sure that he had returned safely.  It appeared that it was the same with mothers everywhere he thought with amusement as he watched Halbarad try and edge away from Nimrie.  The smile disappeared from Estel’s lips as Nimrie caught a glimpse of him approaching and he recognized the glint in her eye as she focused her attention on him.  Much to Estel’s relief, she was more restrained with him than she was with Halbarad, though part of him was moved by her care for him.

            “Are you well, Aragorn?” He nodded.  “You need to go and get out of those filthy clothes.  Halbarad will show you where to put them and I’ll wash them.”  He tried to protest and tell Nimrie that he could clean his own clothes, but she ignored him and continued.  “You need to eat, there’s some fresh bread and cheese in the kitchen, you eat that and it’ll hold you until supper.”  Nimrie stopped and smiled at her nephew, “I’m glad you’re safe, Aragorn.”

            Estel returned her smile, “Me, too and thank you, Aunt Nimrie.”  He glanced at Halbarad who was waiting for him a short distance away.  He jogged to catch up with his cousin and they walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, though Estel thought that Halbarad seemed excited about something and was trying to keep that excitement under control.  Estel started when Halbarad elbowed him in the side.

            “Grandmother,” he whispered and Estel looked up to see their grandmother standing outside her house with her arms crossed, a small frown on her face as she watched her two grandsons.  The two young men exchanged glances and changed directions to go and greet her before they headed home, once again delayed from their goal. 

            “Good afternoon, Grandmother,” they both said politely with small bows, Halbarad with a smile as Ivorwen had mostly treated him well over the years.  It was only in the last five or six years since her husband died that she had become increasingly hardened to the people around her.  Estel wore a guarded expression as he greeted her and he eyed her warily.

            Ivorwen nodded in acknowledgment of their greetings and looked the two of them over with a critical eye, taking in not only the state of their clothing but also their exhaustion.  They may have been able to hide that from some people, but she could easily read that in the set of their shoulders and in their stance as they stood towering over her.  Now that she had seen them and assured herself that they were well and whole she turned to more pressing matters.  “You look like an elf,” she stated curtly, slowly looking Aragorn up and down.

            Startled by the comment, Estel looked down at himself wondering what she was referring to.  It was his clothing he realized and he knew that the soft green and grey elven made clothing was much different than the dark colored clothing that the Dúnedain wore, but he had no choice as he had nothing else to wear.  Besides he liked his clothes, they were comfortable and the colors blended in well with the forest and brush.  “Do you mean my clothes, Grandmother?” Estel asked cautiously.

            “Yes, I mean your clothes, Aragorn,” she replied impatiently.  “Come by before supper and I’ll take your measurements.  You need to wear men’s clothing not elven.  Now you two go home and sleep,” Ivorwen gave an imperious wave of her hand, clearly dismissing them and started back into her house.

            Estel started to protest his grandmother’s words.  “Grandmother, you need not make me…” his voice trailed off under her icy glare.  “I will be back,” he said raising his hands in a placating manner and Ivorwen went inside without another word.  Sighing softly Estel turned to Halbarad who had an amused expression on his face as he began to walk on.  “Why does she want to make me clothes?  There is nothing wrong with the ones I have and she does not even like being around me,” Estel said with confusion.

            Halbarad cast a look over his shoulder at his cousin as they entered the house.  “She likes you well enough, Aragorn.  Grandmother just has a strange way of showing it at times.  Though I’ll admit I’ve never seen her quite this… well, abrupt with others before.”  He hung his bow and quiver near the door and Estel did the same as he considered Halbarad’s words.

            “Do I look like our grandfather?  Or Arathorn?” he asked as he removed his cloak and set it with Halbarad’s in a basket to be cleaned.  “Do you think I remind her of one of them?”

            “You don’t look like grandfather and I’m not the one to ask about Arathorn.  You look a lot like your brothers, which is rather strange considering they are elves and not truly your brothers.  Adar says you look a little bit like me.”  Halbarad set several large kettles of water over the fire so that it would heat.  Moving to the kitchen he grabbed the bread his naneth had baked that morning and cut it in two, tossing one half to Estel who grinned as he caught it.  He put some cheese on a plate and handed that to his cousin before filling two cups with ale.

            The two of them ate the bread and cheese while they stood leaning against the mantle so as not to get the chairs and benches dirty by sitting on them.  They spoke of the patrol of the night before and Estel learned that Halbarad had gone out with only two other patrols that had been gone for less than a week each time.  Halbarad told him that both had mostly been scouting trips and that they had never even seen so much as the track of an orc.  Estel shared a few of his experiences as he traveled with Elladan and Elrohir or with Glorfindel and some of the Imladris patrols.  As he spoke, Halbarad realized that it had been rather foolish to have him set aside as if he were one of the normal young men of the Dúnedain.  When he mentioned that though, Estel quickly told him that he had not really minded and that he understood why Faelon did what he did.  The Ranger did not know his capabilities and it was understandable to treat him just as he would any other young man under him.  By the time they had finished eating, the water was sufficiently heated and they each carried large buckets of the steaming water into their rooms to finally get clean.

0-0-0

            Hearing the soft snores of Halbarad as he started to knock on his bedroom door, Estel turned away with a grin and walked out of the house, heading for the healing room to check on Gilost and Caladel.  He wondered where Halhigal had disappeared to but supposed that he had things he needed to do around the village.  Suppressing a tired yawn he politely greeted those he passed.  Estel noticed that people seemed a little less reserved with him, a little more open perhaps.  At least he did not feel that they were staring at him as they had done when he arrived.

            Entering the healing room Estel found that Nimrie was sitting on a chair near the fire mending a shirt which she quickly set aside and stood when she saw him.  The room was quiet and peaceful.  Caladel was sleeping and his son, Caladithil, was sitting on the floor fletching arrows as he watched over his father.  Gilost was awake, though he had one arm lying across his eyes, and he was talking quietly with his sister, Gaerwen, as she sat on the edge of his bed clutching his free hand.

            “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Nimrie asked quietly as she approached.

            Estel shrugged, “I want to check the men first.  I will sleep later, Aunt Nimrie.  How is Gilost?”  He was pleased to see him awake but concerned that the light was evidently bothering him.

            “He’s doing well, though I want to keep him here one more night.  He was sick several times during the night but has eaten some broth and kept that down.  I’ve given him willow bark tea and that’s helped his headache some,” Nimrie frowned, “but it does seem quite severe, Aragorn.”

            “He hit his head rather hard so that is not unusual.  I will look at him.”  Estel walked over to the bed.  Gaerwen looked up at him and gave him a shy smile as she released Gilost’s hand and stood.  “Lady,” he greeted her with an inclination of his head as he took her place on the bed.  Gilost had removed the arm which covered his eyes and was looking at Estel curiously through eyes that were still laced with pain.

            “Lord Aragorn?” he whispered.

            “Yes,” Estel replied as he gently began removing the bandage that covered the side of the Ranger’s head.  He stopped when Gilost grabbed his hand, clasping it tightly.  Surprised, Estel let go of the bandage and straightened up, his gaze shifting back to Gilost’s eyes to see that the curiosity there had changed to warmth and friendliness.

            “I’m glad you’re here, my lord,” Gilost said quietly.  “I was hoping that you would return soon.”  He shifted on the bed to try and make himself more comfortable.

            “I am glad to be back, Gilost,” Estel replied wondering how old this man was and if he was someone he had known when he was here as a child.  “Did I… I do not like to ask this,” his said with a wry smile, “but I have no memory of my life here before.  Did I know you then?  I do not know how old you are,” he admitted.

            Gilost started to laugh and then winced as the pain hit him and he clutched at his ribs.  “No, my lord, you didn’t really know me.  I’m thirty-four, so I was sixteen when you left.  You would have known Gaerwen though,” he gestured towards his sister.  Estel twisted around to see her and she nodded once.

            “I’m a few years older than you, my lord, but your naneth and my naneth and the other women would take turns caring for us so of course I knew you then,” Gaerwen smiled.  “It’s a small village and so all of us around your age knew you… at least a little bit.”

            “How old are you?” Estel asked.  He was finding it as difficult to guess the ages of his people as it was with the elves and he wondered if it would be the same with other men or just with the Dúnedain.

            “Twenty-five.”

            She was a little older than Estel would have thought; he had guessed she was about Halbarad’s age.  He nodded and turned back to Gilost, “I need to check your injuries.  I know Aunt Nimrie has done a good job with you, but I wanted to check on you as well.”

            “Was it difficult finding the rest of the orcs, my lord?” Gilost asked as Estel finished removing the bandages.

            It was some time before Estel answered him as he carefully checked the knot on Gilost’s temple.  The swelling was much reduced and the cut was beginning to close.  He looked up at Nimrie, “I do not think we need to keep this bandaged, it will be fine.”  She nodded.  Ignoring the cracked ribs as they would simply take time to heal, Estel moved down to look at the thigh injury.  Estel slid aside the blanket and began to unwrap the bandage on Gilost’s leg, finally answering his question as he did so.  “It was not too difficult, Gilost.  I have been on patrols that were much more difficult,” he looked up and met the Ranger’s eyes briefly before beginning his examination of the wound.  Gilost hissed almost inaudibly as Estel gently prodded the area around the stitches, relieved that there was no redness or sign of infection.  He smiled his thanks at Nimrie as she handed him a small bowl of an already prepared salve and he smelled it deciding that it would work well to promote healing.  Estel was starting to wonder why Nimrie considered herself lacking since everything he had observed spoke of a competent healer.  After gently applying the salve to the long wound, Estel neatly bandaged the area and shifted his gaze back to the Ranger’s face, grimacing inwardly at what he had to tell the man.  He had a feeling Gilost would not take the news well.

            “This is going to take some time to heal, Gilost.  I do not want you to walk on it for several days, though I doubt that you will feel much like walking around with the way your head and ribs are hurting.”

            Gilost’s face paled, “Will I have a limp like my adar?”  He could not imagine facing the rest of his life with an injury like his father’s and what that would do to his ability as a Ranger and his skill as a tracker.

            “No, not if you allow it to heal properly.  I want you to stay here until tomorrow and then I will have you carried home where you can rest for several more days.”  Estel looked at him closely.

            Understanding dawned on Gilost.  “But my patrol will have left by then,” he protested.  “I have to go with them, my lord.  They need me and I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  Gilost did not want to stay in Dolomar over the winter while the men of his patrol and the other two patrols were out protecting the people of Eriador.

            “It will not be fine if you start walking on your leg before you should,” Estel said sternly.  “You have a long life ahead of you and I will not allow you to cause permanent damage to yourself when I can help it.”  His voice softened and he looked over at Caladel to find that the Ranger was now awake and was listening to their discussion.  “I am sorry, Gilost, and I do not like the thought of sending Caladel’s patrol out one man short, either…”

            “We’ll be fine, my lord,” Caladel’s deep voice interrupted him and Gilost jumped slightly on the bed, unaware that he had been listening. 

            Gilost closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh.  “All right, Lord Aragorn.  I really don’t want my leg to be damaged either, but I just don’t…” his voice trailed off as he was unable to explain what he felt.  He cracked his eyelids open and gave his sister a small smile as she sat down on the bed opposite Estel taking her brother’s hand and squeezing it gently.

            Estel stood and looked down at him with a thoughtful expression.  “Perhaps, Gilost,” the Ranger’s eyes popped opened and Estel could read the hope there.  “While you cannot go with your patrol, I will be leaving in a week or ten days to visit the other villages and I will need some men to accompany me and my uncle.”  He did not look at Nimrie though he had already decided that Halbarad would also be coming.  “You should be healed enough by that time to come with us.”  Estel looked at Caladel, “You patrol around the South Downs along the Great East Road, do you not?”  The man nodded and Estel turned back to Gilost.  “We will not be going that far west so you will not be able to join them this winter, but I imagine that I will be gone for four months at least.” 

            “That’ll be fine, my lord.  I’d be honored to accompany you,” Gilost said, smiling as he relaxed back against the pillows, relieved that he would be doing something for his new Chieftain.

            Estel crossed over to look at Caladel’s injuries and he talked quietly with the patrol leader as he checked them.  Both wounds were healing well and showed no sign of infection.  After speaking with Nimrie they decided that he could rest just as well at home and Estel sent Caladithil off to speak with his nana to let her know that Caladel would be home shortly.  After re-bandaging both wounds, Estel helped Caladel to his feet and held him steady for a moment until he made sure he had his balance.  When he was satisfied that the Ranger could walk under his own power, Estel escorted him to his house and made sure that Caladel was lying down again before he left. 

            Standing outside Caladel’s house, Estel looked around for a moment wondering if there was a place where he could go and have some time alone.  He needed time to sit and think about all that had occurred in the last few days.  Glancing down towards the gate Estel saw that it was already closed and he assumed his uncle had ordered that because of the threat of orcs.  Running his hand through his hair as he thought for a moment, he finally decided that the only places he could possibly be alone was in the stables or in his parent’s house.  As he did not really want to go into the house again and wanting to check on his horse anyway, he headed towards the stables.  He had not gone far when he was stopped by a call from Halhigal and he turned reluctantly towards his uncle and waited for the older man to join him.

            “I need to speak with you, Aragorn.  I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”

            Estel shrugged, “I was just going to check on my horse.”

            Halhigal’s discerning eyes and ears picked up something in Aragorn’s expression or in his voice and he realized that his nephew was looking for a place to be alone.  He was not surprised, a lot had happened in the last few days and Aragorn struck him as someone that was used to having time alone to think things through. 

            “I’ll walk with you then.”  Estel nodded.  “One of the things I had planned for the feast last night was to give you your father’s star.”  Estel stopped abruptly.

            “You have it?”

            “Yes,” Halhigal said slowly, wondering at Aragorn’s surprise.  “I thought you knew… that your naneth or someone would have told you.”

            Estel shook his head, “No, they did not,” he said softly as they resumed walking.  “I thought it was lost because everything else was given to me by Adar,” he held up his hand and showed Halhigal the Ring of Barahir that he wore.  “Well, almost everything,” Estel amended, thinking of the Scepter of Annúminas that he would not be given unless he actually became king.

            Halhigal laid his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder.  “It was decided that you should be given the star here amongst your people.  It’s a very simple ceremony, Aragorn, but it has a lot of meaning to our people and as the Chieftain it seemed important, especially as you weren’t raised here.”

            “I understand,” Estel gave his uncle a half smile.  “I am glad that you have it… that I will have it.”  He was surprised how much it meant to him – to have something that was Arathorn’s.  Something more personal than the ring, something that all of the Dúnedain men wore.

            “Yes, it’s been in your family for a long time, though I don’t know how many of your ancestors wore this particular star.  Sírdhim might know.”  They had reached the stables and walked down between the stalls until they reached Estel’s horse.  He began brushing it as they continued talking.  “Since we did not give you your star last night, I would like to do it this evening.  Perhaps have a bonfire, it’s not that cold today and somehow it’s always more special when we do it outside.”  Estel looked at him and shrugged, he knew nothing about the ceremony.  “One thing has changed since last night, but I don’t think you’ll mind,” Halhigal said.  “We have another star to give out now.”

            “Whose?  Halbarad’s?”  Estel realized it must be his as he was the only young man in the village that was of the proper age and he had been on the patrol last night.  It also explained the excitement he had sensed in him earlier.

            Halhigal nodded, “Our tradition is that when a young man takes part in a patrol that is involved in killing orcs or other creatures of darkness then he has earned his star and becomes a full-fledged Ranger.  Halbarad has been on patrols before, but none of them have ever encountered orcs.  Of course, I knew before you arrived that you had gone with Lords Elladan and Elrohir many times and had earned your star long ago.” 

           Estel just smiled.  “It will be good to have Halbarad and I receive our stars at the same time.”  He returned his brush to the box, patting his horse before leaving the stall and walking back down the aisle.  “I plan to take him with us when we visit the other villages.” 

           “I thought you would, we need someone else as well,” Halhigal said, frowning.

           “Gilost will be going.”  He explained at Halhigal’s questioning look.  “He is too injured to leave with his patrol, but he should be well enough by the time we leave.”

           “Caladel will be short then,” Halhigal said thoughtfully.  “We could pull Dúrvain off of Dorlas’s patrol, the area they cover is a little safer,” Halhigal gave a wry smile.  “But there is another patrol from Taurnand that is close to Dorlas’s area, whereas Caladel’s patrol is much more isolated.  What do you think?”

            Estel did not respond for several moments as he considered the implications of such a move and then he nodded, “It would seem the best way to handle it, Uncle.  I will speak with Dúrvain and Dorlas tonight.”  He slowed as they drew near his grandmother’s house, “Grandmother insists on making me new clothing.  Though what I have is perfectly fine.”

            Halhigal looked at his nephew for a moment and then nodded, “It doesn’t surprise me that she would want to do that, Aragorn.  I think it’s her way of showing you she cares.”

            Estel chuckled, “She said it was because I looked like an elf.”

            “It could also be that, I’m never quite sure with her anymore, but I suspect it’s that she cares.  You are Gilraen’s son and I doubt she’ll ever tell you she cares for you, but she does in her own way,” Halhigal laid his hand on Estel’s shoulder and pushed him gently toward Ivorwen’s door.  “I’ll see you at supper.”

            What followed was one of the strangest half hours Estel had ever known as his grandmother barely spoke to him the whole time he was with her.  She simply took his measurements using a long leather string with some type of markings on it and wrote the numbers down on a piece of parchment muttering to herself the whole time.  Estel was uncertain whether to say anything to her or not, but finally decided just to remain silent and let her start any conversations.  When his grandmother appeared to be finished, Estel thanked her politely and headed for the door.

            “Do you have a proper cloak for when you receive your star tonight?” she asked abruptly as Estel reached for the door handle.

            “I have my spare cloak, Grandmother.  My best one needs to be cleaned after last night.”  Estel wondered why it mattered but supposed it was because it was an elven cloak.

            “Wait there,” Ivorwen ordered, frowning.  She disappeared into one of the bedrooms and returned rather quickly with a long cloak over her arm which made Estel suspect that she had thought about this and had it setting out for him.  “Here,” she thrust it at Estel.  “This was your grandfather’s but he never had a chance to wear it.  You need a Dúnedain cloak to pin your star on.”  She opened the door and shooed him outside without giving him a chance to respond, not even to say thank you.  Estel stood looking at the door for a moment before he headed back to his uncle’s with a small smile on his lips.

0-0-0

            As Halhigal had told Estel, the ceremony that signified the change of a young man into a Ranger, with all of the responsibilities that that entailed, was a simple one.  Yet, Estel found it moving nonetheless.  Perhaps it was because it was the first time he had seen any of the ceremonies of his people, or perhaps it was because he was to receive a star himself.  A large bonfire was built in the fire pit near the center of the village soon after dark and all the villagers gathered around to listen.  Even the children were quiet as Halhigal spoke, as if they sensed the importance of the occasion.  Because of the death of the two young men several years ago, it had been a number of years since any stars had been bestowed.  That the Chieftain was receiving his star also added to the specialness of the gathering.

            Estel noticed that Halbarad was very solemn as he waited.   The excitement he had shown earlier in the day had worn off and he wore a somber expression that Estel had not seen on him before.   Halhigal spoke of the new Rangers’ responsibilities, which boiled down to two things that were very difficult to accomplish and cost the Rangers a great deal – to defend the people spread throughout Eriador from the evil creatures of darkness and to protect them from bandits who often stalked the roads in search of easy prey.  He then called each of the young men forward one at a time.

            “Halbarad, this was my father’s star,” Halhigal said as he pinned it to his son’s cloak.  “May your heart be filled with courage as you go to serve and defend the people of this land.  May the Valar protect you my son.”  Halhigal kissed his son on the forehead and then embraced him tightly which Halbarad readily returned.  Estel clasped his cousin’s arm when Halhigal released him.

            “Aragorn son of Arathorn,” Halhigal said as he faced his Chieftain, his eyes solemn.  “This was your father’s star.”  He pinned it to Aragorn’s new cloak.  “I remember when your father received this, Aragorn, standing not too far from here as Arador pinned it to his cloak. I know that if Arathorn were here to do this, he would be proud of you.”  He saw Aragorn’s eyes glisten in the glow from the fire.  “May your heart also be filled with courage as you go to serve not only the people of Eriador, but also our people.  May the Valar protect you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, and Chieftain of the Dúnedain.”  Halhigal embraced his nephew firmly and nodded at his whispered thank you.

            Estel stepped back next to Halbarad, his eyes fixed on the ground.  He shivered, but not from the cool air.  He realized he was grateful for the cloak his grandmother had given him, it was right that he was wearing something of the Dúnedain as he received his star.  It surprised him how deeply affected he was by Halhigal’s words - that a simple ceremony could make him feel more connected with his people.  Estel glanced at Halbarad when his cousin slipped his arm around his shoulder.

            “I’m glad we got our stars together, Cousin.  It just feels right somehow.”

            “It does,” Estel nodded and then turned to greet the people who were starting to come and offer their congratulations to the two newest Rangers.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 6

            Nimrie said her good-byes to Halhigal, Halbarad, and Estel at the house as they prepared to leave Dolomar.  She did not know when she would see them again, probably not until early spring and that was if they did not run into any problems along the way as they visited the four other Dúnedain villages that were scattered around the Angle.  It was roughly a week’s journey between each village and Estel planned on spending some time in each place getting to know his people.  He also intended to visit a few of the closer patrols to meet those Rangers before he returned.  Nimrie embraced Halhigal and Halbarad tightly, already missing them.  It would be the longest she had ever been alone but she had long known this day would come.  She hesitated only briefly before embracing Estel as well and he accepted the embrace readily enough.  Over the last two weeks Nimrie had seen him relax somewhat around her and Halhigal, though he was still reserved around the rest of the villagers yet unfailingly polite and exceptionally kind to the children.  Nimrie had wondered at that as she knew he had never been around children before, but perhaps that was why he was so interested in them.  With one last kiss of Halhigal, Nimrie hurried back into the house unwilling to see them leave.

            Without a word the men gathered up their gear and strode down towards the gate where Rosruin and Alvist had their horses saddled and waiting for them.  Gilost was there with his family and some of the villagers were there to watch them leave even on the cool, foggy morning.  Estel smiled his thanks at Alvist as he attached his packs to the horse and then checked the girth strap and bit before taking the reins from the boy.  Leading the horse behind him, he walked over to speak with Ladreníl.

            “I leave the village and the people in your very capable hands, Ladreníl.  May the Valar bless and protect you,” Estel said as he reached out and firmly clasped the older man’s arm.

            “Thank you, my lord,” he replied, “and you as well.”  Ladreníl paused, casting a sidelong look at his son.  “And those that travel with you.”  Gilost’s stitches had been removed several days ago and he no longer had the occasional headaches that had plagued him for the first few days after the injury, but Ladreníl had noticed that his son still favored his right side.

            Estel murmured his thanks and moved to mount his horse, giving Sírdhim a brisk nod when he passed.  The two men had rarely spoken since the feast, but while the older man still bore a grudge against him for whatever reason, Sírdhim was at least civil to him and he was satisfied with that… for now.  At some point Estel hoped to find out why he was angry and try to mend their relationship, yet he knew it might not be possible.  He had one foot in the stirrup when a small body slammed into his other leg, grasping it tightly.  Only the fact that his horse was elven trained kept it from spooking as Estel fell heavily against it, though he never completely lost his balance.  Even before he heard Arthiell call out his name, Estel knew it was Balrant.  The boy had taken to following him around the village whenever he could escape from his mother’s watchful gaze.  That he was able to escape her so often spoke well of his future as a Ranger Estel had often thought whenever the young boy showed up.  Briefly rubbing his horse’s neck to sooth it, Estel reached down and pried the young boy’s fingers off of his leg before turning and crouching down in front of him.  He glanced up at Arthiell as she arrived and was giving him a look of apology and he gave her a small smile.  Balrant’s lip was quivering slightly as he stared at the ground.

            “Forgive me, Balrant, I forgot to say good-bye to you.”

            Balrant lifted his head and stared at him for a moment and then nodded.  “Good-bye, Aragorn,” he whispered.  Arthiell sighed; she had not been able to get her son to remember to call the Chieftain, lord and he never corrected Balrant either.  “I’ll miss you.”

            “I will miss you too.  Help your mother and your sister,” Estel said with a smile.  He hugged the boy, who clung to him tightly.  Estel pulled away and then led him to his nana who murmured her thanks as she took her son’s hand.  Returning to his horse, he swiftly mounted and after checking to see that the other three Rangers were ready, he urged his horse forward through the gate, lifting his hand in farewell to the people that had come to see them leave. 

           They were headed southeast towards the village of Taurnand which was set on the banks of the Bruinen River.  Estel was looking forward to seeing the other villages and traveling around the Angle, yet he was already attached to the people of the village of Dolomar.  He had gotten to know the people well and understood the various relationships between families and which women came from different villages – like his aunt.  They were going to meet some of her family in Forntaur.  He supposed he would always be closer to the people of Dolomar than the other villages simply because his family was from the village and because he would stay there when he was not on patrols.  The thought gave Estel pause; he needed to make sure that he remained aware of the needs of all of the Dúnedain and not just the needs of the people of Dolomar.  It would be easy to forget that.

           Not long after they cleared the gates, Estel twisted around in his saddle and gestured for Halhigal to take the lead.  While he knew the area around the village quite well now, he did not know the way to Taurnand and he knew his uncle had things to show him along the way.  Halbarad rode up alongside Estel and Gilost brought up the rear, though they stayed close together in the fog that limited visibility.  Casting a sidelong glance at his cousin, Estel wondered what he was thinking.  He knew that Halbarad was excited about the trip; he had never traveled farther than twenty or thirty miles from the village.  But neither said anything as they wrapped their cloaks tightly about themselves against the cold.

           The four Rangers rode quietly most of the day, speaking only occasionally.  The fog burned off by mid-morning and a brilliant blue sky appeared overhead, the sun shining down through the trees.  The ground was carpeted with red and yellow leaves that crackled under their horse’s hooves.  The forest was opening up and losing the thick brush, making it easier for them to ride but also easier for them to be seen by any enemy that might be near.  Not that they expected any but all four were fully alert and aware as the day passed.  As the sun dropped low in the west, the temperature dropped with it and Halhigal brought them to a halt near a hill that had an overhanging rock that would provide them with some shelter for the night.  A small spring gurgled a short distance away.

            After they had taken care of their horses, Estel looked at the others, “Who is the best cook?” he asked.  “Or, do we take turns?”

            None of the others wanted to be responsible for cooking every night and so they agreed to take turns, Estel offering to do it this first night.  The others scattered to collect wood and water and to set up the tent.  Estel started a small fire and set about preparing a simple meal with the food Nimrie had provided for them and soon the smell of soup filled the air.  He cut the fresh bread with his belt knife.  As he wiped the knife off on his dark brown leggings, he smiled slightly as he remembered his grandmother thrusting the leggings and his new shirt and tunic at him several days before.  Again she had not let Estel thank her.  After speaking with his uncle about something she might like, he had gone out fishing with Halbarad and come back with a string of cleaned trout which he handed to her without a word when she opened her door at his knock.  She had tried to hand them back, but he simply turned and walked away, biting back his smile at her muttering.  Estel had not seen her this morning when they left but he had no doubt that she had been watching them to make sure that he was wearing the proper clothing.

            “Is it ready?” Halbarad asked as he dropped down beside his cousin, wrapping his arms around his pulled up knees

            “No,” Estel handed him a chunk of bread to tide him over.  “How does it feel to be so far away from home?” he asked with a grin, remembering his brothers teasing him on his own first trips away from Imladris.

            Halbarad snorted and knocked his shoulder into Estel’s and then began eating his bread.  “I can’t believe that you were allowed to do this when you were only seventeen,” he said wistfully.

            Estel glanced at Halhigal and Gilost as they joined them.  He knew that Halbarad was speaking more about the comradeship that being a Ranger brought than the dangers but he chose not to speak about those… Halbarad would discover those soon enough.  “My life has been much different than yours, and I did not have to do all of the things you had to do.  I could work solely on my training and so I was able to go at a younger age.”  He knew it was more than that of course; for one thing, his purer Númenorean blood gave him some advantages in strength over his cousin.

            “Of course, you also spent hours on your studies and in healing,” Halhigal pointed out.  “You did not just work on training, Aragorn.”

            “No, I did not,” Estel conceded, stirring the soup and, deciding it was done, he began dishing it out to the others.  It appeared his brothers had told Halhigal a lot about his life in Imladris he thought with an inward grimace.

            “You’re an adequate cook,” Halbarad said with a smile after he tasted the soup and Estel just shrugged.

            “How are your ribs, Gilost?” Estel asked, looking across the fire at the Ranger.

            Gilost looked up in surprise, “Fine, my lord,” he replied.  “Why do you ask?”

            “I noticed that you have been favoring your right side all day.”

            Gilost shrugged and returned to his food.  He was not going to admit that he was sore, not to his Chieftain and he had been in much worse pain several times in his life.  He did not realize that Estel could be rather persistent when it came to the health of his people.

            “Perhaps you re-injured them when you were carrying the deer a few days ago. I will check it before we turn in,” Estel said in a tone that brooked no argument and Gilost’s protest died on his lips and he nodded.  They ate quietly for a time and then Estel turned to Halhigal and his voice was somewhat hesitant when he spoke.  “Would you tell me about Arathorn?  Things my brothers would not know.”

            “Yes, of course,” he softly replied.  “But do you want to know about him as my Chieftain and a Ranger or about the man that courted and married my younger sister?” a smile crossed Halhigal’s lips.

            “The man that married my naneth,” Estel replied without hesitation, though he did glance briefly at Gilost.  “Others can and will tell me of him as a Ranger, but only you can tell me what he was like with my naneth at that time.”

            “Except for grandmother,” Halbarad said dryly and both Estel and Halhigal chuckled while Gilost dropped his gaze to the ground, fighting back a smile.

            Halhigal began talking quietly, telling how Arathorn, in his mid-fifties, had suddenly become interested in Gilraen, even though she was so very young.  Arathorn had always seemed a quiet, stern man, at least he appeared that way to Halhigal - who was only eight years younger - and even though they had grown up in Dolomar around the same time, they had never been close.  But watching Arathorn with Gilraen had revealed a man with a quick sense of humor and someone that could just as easily be gentle as stern.  Halhigal admitted that it had been hard for him to see his sister marry when she was so young and he was surprised when his father had allowed it.  But besides the obvious love that Gilraen felt for Arathorn, there was not a single doubt in his mind that Arathorn loved and cherished Gilraen deeply.  He spoke then of the early days of their marriage and their excitement when Aragorn was born.  As Halhigal spoke, Estel stared into the fire, not asking questions just listening to his uncle speak of a father he had never known.

            Gilost quietly took the dishes away and cleaned them as Halhigal finished up the stories he would tell that night, there would be many other times around the campfire for such things.  The talk turned to their plans for the next few days and the route to Taurnand.  Before going to bed they set the watches, Estel and Halhigal drew the short twigs and had to take the watches in the middle of the night.  Estel wrapped Gilost’s ribs and the three Rangers went to bed, leaving Halbarad on watch.  He woke Estel a couple of hours later and, shivering, the Chieftain slipped from his bedroll and out of the tent.  Pulling his cloak about him, he crouched down by the fire and looked sleepily at Halbarad.

            “Has it been quiet?”

            “Yes, only the night animals and the spring are speaking tonight.”  He paused and considered the question that the time alone had given him.  “Aragorn… are you glad that you’re here with us?  I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I can’t tell if you like it or not.”

            Estel took his time answering the question, staring into the darkness for several minutes.  “Yes, I am, Halbarad.  It has not been easy and I miss my family,” he looked up and met Halbarad’s eyes.  “I am glad that I have close kin here,” he smiled.  “It makes it easier.  But I am starting to feel a little more comfortable.  Of course, now I am moving on to someplace new,” Estel gave his cousin a small smile and then his eyes took on a distant, almost unfocused, look for a moment.  “I have a feeling that my life will be like that for a long time… never really settled.”

            “Do you have the gift of foresight?”  Halbarad knew that some of the line of Isildur had the gift but not all.

            “Yes, though I do not always consider it a gift,” Estel replied with a rueful smile.

            “Why not?” Halbarad couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t be useful to know the future.

            “Because sometimes I see things I would rather not know,” he whispered.  “Though, it is useful at times.”  Estel shrugged. “In any case, I have it whether I like it or not.  You should go to bed.”

            It was Halbarad’s turn to shrug.  “I’m not that tired.”  He pulled out his pipe, filling it with pipe-weed before lighting it with a twig from the fire.  Estel eyed him curiously, still wondering what the fascination was with the smoking of pipes, though he was starting to enjoy the scent of the burning leaves.

            Halbarad noticed Aragorn watching him and he finally held out the pipe.  “Here, try it,” he urged.

            Estel shook his head and then reluctantly took it at his cousin’s insistence.  He held it gingerly by the stem and looked at Halbarad to see his eyes filled with laughter.

            “You have to put it in your mouth for it to work, Aragorn,” he tried to keep the amusement from his voice but failed miserably.  “Do not suck on the pipe or you’ll choke,” he cautioned.  “You just… sort of… well… breathe it in and let it out… sort of naturally, I guess,” Halbarad tried to explain how it worked.  It had become second nature to him and it was difficult to put it into words.

            Cautiously, Estel stuck the pipe in his mouth and tried to do as Halbarad advised.  He began coughing almost immediately and he jerked the pipe out as his eyes began to water.  “How can you do that?” he asked between coughs.

            Halbarad shrugged.  “Here, watch me.”  He puffed on the pipe for a moment while Estel watched closely and then he handed it back.  “Now, try it again only don’t draw on the pipe so hard.  I assure you that when you get used to it, you’ll find it strangely comforting.”

            Estel gave him a doubtful look and yet all of the men that he knew smoked a pipe and so he tried again.  He managed to do it for a moment without coughing but he still did not see the appeal in it.  “I do not think I will ever be one that smokes a pipe, Halbarad.”  His cousin merely smiled.  “You really should go to bed,” Estel glanced up at the sky, “my watch is almost half over.”

            “Good-night,” Halbarad got to his feet and headed into the tent.

0-0-0

            The next two days passed much as the first and the morning of the fourth they awoke to a light dusting of early snow on the ground, most of which disappeared by noon.  As they came to a small stream, Halhigal reined to a stop and looked over his shoulder. “This is one of the signposts I was telling you about, Aragorn, Halbarad,” he said.  “I’ll show it to you and we can eat and rest the horses.”

            “All right,” Estel said, looking around carefully, making a mental image of the place before he dismounted.  Over the last week his uncle had taught him the various ways that the Rangers left messages for each other out in the wild.  Different markings on rocks or the arrangement of the rocks themselves were all clues that he had needed to learn.  It was not too different than what the elves did, though the meanings of the markings were different.  What Estel really needed to learn was where the various signposts were located.  The places were marked on the map they had of Eriador, but it was not the same as seeing it with his own eyes.  Halbarad had known the marks for years – it was a part of every Dúnedain boys training – but he also needed to see where they were located.

            “I’ll water the horses, my lord,” Gilost said and Estel smiled his thanks as he handed him the reins. Having been a Ranger for more than ten years, Gilost already knew the locations of all of the signposts in this area.  Halhigal showed the two newest Rangers how a small grouping of three rocks was set in a pattern that was easily identifiable - if you knew what you were looking for – but would not be noticed by others that happened upon them.  The rocks were set well back from the waters edge so that any marks would not be washed away in high water. 

            “Does no one ever disturb these?” Halbarad asked.

            “Rarely.  Most men that would be in these parts would be either hunters or bandits and would not be looking for any signs such as these… and they are hard to recognize.  Animals have moved them on occasion but that seldom disturbs the actually markings on the rocks.”  Halhigal turned over the top rock and glanced at the faint scratches etched on it before holding it out to Estel and Halbarad for their inspection.

            “That was made over a month ago,” Estel commented.  “By someone from Taurnand,” his brow furrowed in thought.  “He is heading west.  He is just telling whoever passes by that all is well, is he not?”

            Halhigal nodded and pointed to one other mark that Estel had missed.  “Yes, and he was with five other Rangers.  It’s important to know that in case you need their help.  It was probably one of the regular patrols.”

            “Lord Aragorn!” Gilost’s low voice called from downstream and the urgency in it made the three of them quickly turn and see what had disturbed him.  He was across the stream, kneeling down and intently studying something, though he looked up and waved them down to him.  Whatever Gilost was looking at was disturbing enough that he had let the horses loose, though they were trained well enough that they had not strayed and Halhigal sent Halbarad to catch them.  Estel and Halhigal ran down the edge of the stream and started to cross when Gilost put up his hand.  “Carefully, my lord, there are tracks here.”

            Estel looked across the stream and could now see what Gilost was looking at – the boot prints of orcs.  Lots of orcs.  Gingerly he stepped on a couple of rocks and crossed the water, being careful not to disturb any tracks when he stepped back onto the land.  Halhigal swiftly followed and a few minutes later they were joined by Halbarad.  As he scanned the ground, Estel was appalled by what he read.  The tracks were recent and, if he were reading them correctly, they were heading east – towards Taurnand. 

            “They are headed towards Taurnand,” Gilost said, quite unnecessarily for all of them could see where the orcs had entered the small clearing from the southwest, had come to the stream and then left still heading east.  The only questions were how many there were and how long since they had been there.

            “How many are there?” Halbarad asked, trying to make sense of the tracks.  But around the stream the orcs had walked back and forth and there was no clear way to tell.

            “A lot,” Estel said grimly, running his hand through his hair.  “There were here before it snowed last night,” he crouched down and touched the trace of water that lined the bottom of several of the boot prints, evidence left from the melted snow.  “When did it start?” he glanced at the others as he had been on the first watch and it had not been snowing then.

            “About midnight,” Halhigal replied after a moments thought.  “It didn’t last long.”

            Estel stood and walked downstream towards where the tracks disappeared into the woods, hoping that he could get a better sense of the number of orcs as they spread out.  Halhigal had mentioned that Gilost was the best tracker in the village so he beckoned him forward.  “We need to have some idea how many there are, Gilost.”  The two men studied the tracks intently for a time and then Estel called Halhigal and Halbarad to come.  “I would guess that there is somewhere between twenty-five and thirty orcs,” he glanced at Gilost.

            “It’s hard to say, my lord, but certainly no less than that.”

            “How far is it to Taurnand?  We have to assume they are planning to attack it.”  Estel tried not to think of the women and children that were probably just as undefended and alone as the ones in Dolomar.  He kept his mind focused on the orcs and how best to destroy them.

            “If we kept to the pace we have been on, we would have arrived there around noon tomorrow,” Halhigal replied; his mind feverishly thinking through other possible routes that might help them arrive sooner.  There were none that he could remember that would be any quicker traveling at night.

            “Are there any patrols close by?”  Estel wondered if he should send one of them to get help while the other three went on.

            “Not this close to the village,” his uncle replied, frowning.

            “I did not think so.”  Estel noticed his uncle’s frown and took a moment to explain.  “I thought if a patrol were close then one of us could go for help while the other three went on.”  Halhigal nodded.

            “Come,” Estel led the way back to the horses, talking as they walked.  “We will ride through the night.”  He looked at Halhigal who nodded his approval.  “But even with that I do not see us arriving before the orcs.  Even though they will have denned up for the day, they have too much of a head start and we will be riding through woods in the dark.  All we can do is hope they can hold out until we get there,” he said fiercely as he swung into the saddle.  “And,” he added, “that we will be enough to at least drive them off.”

            The four Rangers started out slowly, making sure that the orcs were in fact heading towards Taurnand and it was soon obvious that they were making a beeline in that direction.  There was nothing else in this part of the Angle that would interest the evil creatures.  When they were sure of their goal, they picked up the pace with Halhigal still leading the way as he knew the lay of the land better than Gilost.  They rode at a ground eating trot as they wove through the trees.  Halhigal called a brief halt just before dark to water and rest the horses and then they moved on again, knowing that the orcs were now also on the move and probably only a couple hours ahead of them at this point.  Nightfall slowed them down considerably and Estel grew increasingly frustrated at the delays as they continually had to walk their horses even in the light of the moon that was just past full. 

           They reached Taurnand an hour before dawn and they could heard the first sounds of battle a mile or so away and they all cringed inwardly.  The Bruinen provided a natural barrier for the back side of the village so the people would only have three sides to defend Halhigal realized as they drew near.  He knew that the other three sides had been cleared for the crops and for the grazing of their animals; there were large open fields between the tree line and the village walls.  They could not charge recklessly across that land no matter how badly they wanted to engage the enemy immediately.  A plan must be put into place first.

            “There is fire,” Gilost’s voice could barely be heard above the noise of the horses. 

           A faint red glow could now be seen through the trees as they slowed their horses to a walk as they neared the edge of the clearing, the growls and curses of orcs and the occasional yells and screams of people could now clearly be heard.  They dismounted, tying their horses, and ran through the woods, stopping at the edge of the trees.  It appeared that while there were scattered fires inside the village, most of the fires were from the burning of small sheds outside the stockade.  The gate still held, though orcs were throwing their bodies against it trying to bring it down.  Evidently the villagers had run out of arrows because none were coming from over the walls.  The bodies of orcs were lying scattered here and there around the stockade, mostly near the gate from what they could see.  There still appeared to be about twenty of the evil beasts swarming around the gate.

            Estel scanned the open ground between where they were crouched and the gate.  With the fields harvested there was little to hide them.  He looked at Halhigal.  “I see no other way than a straight forward assault, do you see something different?”

            Halhigal slowly shook his head.  “I do think we should stop about halfway across the field and take down as many as we can with our bows,” he suggested.  “I imagine the orcs are out of arrows by now.”

            Estel nodded, “Gilost stay to the left of me, Halbarad stay between me and Halhigal.”  He wanted Halbarad close to the most experienced warrior of the group – Halhigal. 

           The Rangers rapidly ran towards the village, nocking arrows as they moved.  They skidded to a halt in the field that was covered with the stubble left from the wheat.  Estel released the first arrow as a signal and it was swiftly embedded deep into the back of an orc, piercing its heart.  The other three men released their arrows only a second after Estel’s and only Halbarad did not kill the orc he hit.  But his second arrow, launched a moment later, brought it down.  After the second volley of arrows the orcs became aware of the danger behind them and they turned to face the new threat.  Estel and Halhigal were able to release one more arrow as the orcs charged, but they only wounded the orcs as the creatures moved.  But the arrows had reduced the numbers considerably and though still outnumbered at least three to one, the Rangers felt it was at least a number they could handle with skill and a bit of luck.  Bows were shouldered and swords drawn as the orcs neared, growling and cursing in their own foul language.

           Estel stood back to back with Gilost while Halbarad and Halhigal fought together.  A crushing wave of orcs tried to overwhelm the four men but they held steady under the onslaught, their swords flashing in the moonlight.  Facing several orcs at once, Estel quickly decided to deal with the largest one first as it had the longest sword and seemed the boldest and the most likely to cause him problems – though he did not ignore the other two.  He neatly blocked the first swing of the orc’s blade, quickly pulling his sword back and thrusting it directly into the orc’s heart before the creature had even had time to react from the first move.  The body had not even fallen before Estel had slit the throat of the orc to his left.  Turning to the right, he leaned back as an orc’s sword came perilously close to his chest and he brought his sword down hard on top of it, knocking it from its owner’s hand.  A quick stab in the left side and into the heart of the orc as it turned to flee took down the third orc. 

           Sliding around to help Gilost, he saw that the man had already killed two orcs and was facing a third but was having little difficulty with it.  Estel turned back towards where Halbarad and Halhigal were fighting a few yards away and saw that they were surrounded by orcs though several dead bodies were on the ground around them.  “Gilost, the others need help.  I am going to leave you.”  Gilost grunted his agreement.  Leaping over the bodies of the orcs he had killed, Estel ran to the others and waded once again into battle.

0-0-0

            Halbarad was struggling and feeling overwhelmed by the number of orcs he was facing.  This was his first real battle of this kind.  Even when the village had been attacked most of his fighting had been with a bow and by the time he had reached the skirmish with the orcs that had gotten over the wall he had only had to face and kill one.  It was not like this.  He forced himself to push the fear to the back of his mind and to concentrate on the enemy in front of him, grateful that his adar was at his back.  The hours and hours Halbarad had spent practicing over the years showed as his body reacted instinctively.

            The orcs did not wait and fight him one at a time as he was used to when he was sparring, several attacked at once and it was all Halbarad could do to keep track of the two that were in front of him.  There were more behind these orcs but, for now, he ignored them.  His sword clanged hard against the orc that was to his right and a tremor ran up his arm.  Halbarad quickly yanked his sword back and tried to drive it past the blade of his opponent, but the orc was too quick and he blocked it.  The other orc moved in at the same time and Halbarad had to jump back out of the way of its sword, ducking down as the first orc swung again.

            “Are you all right?” Halhigal yelled in concern, feeling him moving away from his back, however slightly.

            “Yes!” he could not waste his breath on any more words.  Gritting his teeth, Halbarad blocked the swords of each orc in rapid succession, deciding that he needed to do something or he would not last long.  He had to become more aggressive.  When the next swing come in from the first orc, he blocked it and then as their swords slid apart, instead of pulling it back to himself, he kept his sword moving and took off the sword arm of the other orc.  It fell screeching to the ground, but Halbarad ignored it and kept his attention focused on the first orc.  Again their swords came together and slid apart and Halbarad tried desperately to think of some way that he could get past this orc’s defenses.  He finally saw the opening he was looking for and Halbarad slipped his sword past the orc’s, driving it deep into the orc’s stomach and pulling his sword up and back out as quickly as possible, spattering black blood all over his hands and clothes as the orc fell, clutching it’s stomach.

            More orcs had taken the place of the one he had killed and the one he had disabled and Halbarad found himself on the defensive once again.  He had settled down somewhat and was able to focus more on attacking the orcs while still staying close to his adar; he could not leave him unprotected.  Either the orcs he was facing were not as skilled with their weapons or he had learned from the previous encounter because he killed the first one rather easily, sliding his sword over the top of the orc’s blade and piercing the creature’s heart. 

           Halbarad was startled when Aragorn arrived; he seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and he attacked the orcs from behind.  Between the two of them they swiftly killed the last two orcs that were still standing and then Halbarad finally put the orc that he had disabled earlier out of it’s misery by plunging his sword into it’s heart.  Gilost arrived soon after but the orcs were all lying on the ground.

            The four Rangers stood panting, wiping sweat and black blood from their hands and faces as best they could, keeping a wary eye out around them.  They cleaned but did not sheath their swords.  For a moment it seemed unnaturally quiet in the field except for the distant crackle of the fires that still burned.  But then they could hear indistinct noises rising over the walls of the village.  Estel noticed that Halbarad was trembling but he said nothing, glancing at Halhigal to see if he had noticed and his uncle gave him the tiniest of nods and laid his hand on his son’s shoulder, gripping it tightly.

           Finally Estel spoke.  “Gilost, go and get the horses and meet us in the village.  I think we are going to need whatever supplies we have with us.”

           “Yes, my lord,” he turned to do his Chieftain’s biding while the other three Rangers quickly started towards the village, bracing themselves for whatever horrors might await them inside the gate.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 7

            Grey smoke lingered low over Taurnand like a dense fog and the reek of burning wood and other unidentifiable things hung heavily in the air as Estel, Halhigal, and Halbarad ran swiftly to the village.  What had been indistinct noise could now clearly be heard as the sounds of frightened animals as well as the frantic cries of the villagers.  Pounding on the gate brought no immediate response and the three men exchanged worried glances wondering how to let the people know they were there.  A cry from the wall above made them look up.

            “Halhigal!” A young man appeared briefly overhead and then ducked back inside.  A moment later, a creaking sound was heard and the gate was opened enough to let the three men inside.  “Halhigal,” Eradan said again as he pushed the gate shut.  “Thank the Valar you and your men arrived when you did,” he said fervently.  “I don’t think we could’ve held out much longer.”

            “Where is Celeblas?” Halhigal asked, looking around at the destruction.  Young men, women, and some of the older boys were still fighting the fires that were burning, though they appeared to be mostly under control now.  Several houses and several of the other buildings had been completely destroyed.  He started to walk on but stopped abruptly at Eradan’s answer.

            “Celeblas is dead,” he said, struggling to hold back his tears.  Eradan stared down at the ground and took a deep breath; there was no time for tears and grief right now.  He wiped a dirty sleeve across his eyes before looking back up at Halhigal.

            “How?” Halhigal asked, noticing that Aragorn had quietly directed Halbarad to wait at the gate for Gilost while he himself continued quickly down the main lane of the village.  Halhigal followed with Eradan at his side.

           “An orc arrow got him early in the battle,” the young man said with a deep, weary sigh.

            “Did you lose many others?”

           “I don’t know.  I know that there are a few wounded and some with burns, but how many of them are serious…” Eradan’s voice trembled slightly and then trailed off, and he suddenly looked his nineteen years.

           Halhigal rubbed his forehead as he thought.  Losing Celeblas was a tragedy this village could ill afford right now.  Besides the personal grief that he felt - he had known the village leader for more than forty years - the people of the village needed a strong leader right now.  Having Aragorn and himself would help, but it did not take the place of the man that had led them for many years.  Halhigal glanced at the young man, “Is your family well?”

            “Adar and Laegrist are out on patrol of course and Naneth is well, she’s helping care for the injured,” Eradan gestured down the lane ahead of them.

            “Good,” Halhigal patted the young man’s shoulder.  “Guard the gate, Eradan.  Gilost will be arriving soon with our horses.”  He thought for a moment, “Do you know where Gelmir is?” Gelmir was the oldest man in the village and would be the logical choice to speak with since Celeblas was dead.

            “No, I don’t.  I haven’t seen him since this started.”  Halhigal nodded and the two of them went their separate ways.

0-0-0

            Estel decided to leave Halhigal to discuss the leadership of the village with the young man, though he was grieved to hear that Celeblas had died.  But he knew there must be wounded people that needed his care and they could not wait.  He jogged down what appeared to be the main road of the village in search of the healing room.  The road curved around between several buildings and he was not quite sure it would lead him in the right direction until it widened out into a large open square.  Several more burnt out buildings lined the square on one side and he shook his head sadly.  He easily found the building that housed the healing room, the light from the rising sun enabled him to see quite clearly now and there were a small number of people gathered outside the small building.  They were sitting on the porch, their clothing spotted with black soot; their faces lined with grief, their eyes anguished and, in some cases, full of pain as well.  Sweeping his intent grey eyes over his people, Estel saw that several of the ones that were seated – some with small, crying children being held and rocked by women or older girls - also had injuries of varying degrees.  Some of the injuries appeared quite serious, broken bones and burns at least.  It indicated that those inside must be sorely injured if these ones were not being taken care of… or there was no one to help them.  He stopped abruptly at the covered bodies that he saw off to one side of the building.  Three adult sized bodies and two smaller ones lay there, though he could not guess the ages of the smaller ones.  Grimacing in frustration at their failure to arrive in time to stop the attack on the village, Estel ran his hand through his hair and continued on.

           Lightly running up the steps to the porch Estel paused briefly and then began making his way into the building.  “Pardon me,” he said quietly as he made his way through the people on the small porch.  People grudgingly moved aside for him, murmuring under their breath as he passed, but he knew they were not really aware of him, they were focused on their own pain and grief.  Estel opened the door and walked in, stopping just inside the room looking around in horror as the smell of burnt flesh and the moans and the cries of the injured hit him.  He took a deep breath and steeled his heart at what must be done; while he knew how to deal with burns it was not something he had ever done.  He did know that it was incredibly painful for those so injured and his heart ached for the people lying here, especially as several of them were quite young.  There were also a couple of young men with arrow wounds, though those could wait as they did not appear as life-threatening as some of those who were burned.  The room was larger than the one in Dolomar which surprised Estel as the village itself had fewer people.  There were six beds in the room and all of them were occupied and several other injured villagers lay on the floor.  One man and one woman were working feverishly trying to help one of the patients, but the number of injured was clearly overwhelming them. 

            “Wait outside with the others,” Nestad said in a sharp, strained voice as he heard the door open.  “It’s too crowded in here as it is.”

            Estel turned sharply and looked at the man he assumed was the healer for a moment.  “I am here to help you,” he stated calmly as he looked around for a place to put his bow and sword. 

            “Oh.” Nestad looked up then and realized he didn’t know him.  Taking in his filthy, blood stained clothing, he commented, “You are one of the Rangers that just arrived.  Someone mentioned that help had come,” he sighed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve and looked back down at the burned young boy he was tending.  “Well, we can certainly use the help.  You do have training as a healer?”  He did not want someone cluttering up the room that would just get in the way, untrained people only made his job more difficult.  Although he had never had so many patients to deal with at one time and he knew that he would need to call in some of the women once he got things under control and once the fires had died down.

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  We’ve given all of them willow bark tea to help with some of their pain until we can treat them, but,” he frowned, “it can only do so much.”  Nestad abruptly returned to his own patient.

           Estel set his things in a corner before turning to the fire.  Taking a cloth he wrapped it around the handle of the steaming kettle and poured hot water in a small basin sitting on the table next to the hearth.  As he waited for the water to cool a bit, he looked around the room to see where the supplies were located and found them on open shelves across the room from where he was standing.  He noted the large piles of clean cloths and the bandaging materials and hoped it would be enough.  Looking down at his filthy tunic, Estel decided to remove it; it would take the worst of the black orc blood away while he worked.  While he could do nothing about his leggings or the bloody sleeves on his shirt he did roll up the sleeves before he thoroughly washed his hands with the hot water and the rough bar of soap.

            Assuming that the healer was already dealing with the most severely injured villager, Estel looked around at the rest to find the patient that most needed his help and quickly just moved to the nearest bed.  All of them were badly injured and in need of immediate care.  A young girl lay on the bed and he crouched down next to her looking her over carefully.  She was breathing normally, but her once blue nightdress was now mostly black with soot and full of holes where it had been burned and ripped.  From what he could glimpse though the holes in her clothes, Estel could see that her skin was deep red and blistering in many places.  Pulling his belt knife, he was preparing to cut off the nightdress when he became aware of eyes on him and he looked up into the frightened, pain-filled bluish grey eyes of the girl.

            “Hello,” Estel said softly.  “My name is Estel and I am going to help you.  What is your name?” he gently wiped the dark hair back off her face in a soothing manner.

            “Celin,” she whispered hoarsely.  “I’m nine.” She began to cough and tears trickled down her cheeks and into her ears at the pain brought on by the movement.  Estel looked around for water for her to drink.  There was a small bucket by the fire and cups hanging on hooks above it and he quickly poured a small amount of water for her and carefully helped her drink it.  Celin lay back with a weary sigh and seemed to drift off to sleep again and Estel frowned.  He needed more water than what the bucket held and he would like someone to help him when he needed things; he did not want to leave the girl alone once he started cleaning her burns.  Estel looked over at the healer.

            “I need more water, both to clean these wounds and for the patients to drink.” Estel knew that people who had been burned needed a lot of fluids to replace what was lost through the burned areas.  “And is there anyone who can help me hold down this child when I start cleaning her wounds?  Her mother or one of those women perhaps?” he gestured over his shoulder towards the women outside.

            Nestad looked up from where he was still carefully tending the burned boy.  “Her mother is there,” he pointed to a woman lying on another bed and Estel could see her burns were extensive, her breathing ragged.  Nestad continued, “I’ll send for the water.”  He glanced at the woman helping him, “Laereth, go and ask some of the boys to bring us as much water as they can.”  He paused briefly, frowning.  “Hopefully they’re done using the buckets for the fires - tell them to clean the buckets out first.”  Laereth nodded and turned towards the door.  “And get someone to help…” Nestad looked at Estel and realized he did not know his name.  “What’s your name?”

            “Estel,” he answered without thinking, having already turned back to the girl and was carefully cutting off her nightdress, missing the confused look Nestad shot him.  He had never heard that name for a man of the Dúnedain.

            “I’m Nestad,” the healer said with a slight frown as he returned to his own patient wondering who this Ranger was.  But he quickly dismissed the matter from his mind, it appeared that Estel was a competent healer and that was all that mattered.

            Estel eased the nightdress off the girl, blocking out the sounds of her quiet whimpers as he gently moved her.  He murmured soothingly to her in elvish as he turned an assessing gaze to her burns, which were scattered all over the upper half of her body.  From the things his adar had taught him and the detailed drawings he had studied, Estel thought these burns were not the deepest types of burns that someone could suffer, they were slightly less severe.  If she received proper treatment and the burns did not become infected, she had a good chance of surviving, though the number of burns ensured that she would suffer great pain as she healed.  Many of the blisters had broken open and were raw and weeping fluid and he knew they must be gently cleaned and covered.  Estel quickly returned to the fire and poured another basin of hot water and carried it back to the bed and then brought a basin of cool water as well.  Taking a leaf of athelas he breathed on it and crumbled it into the hot water and left it to steep and the water to cool.  Without someone to help him keep the girl still he did not want to set it beside her lest it spill.  Taking a clean cloth, he dipped it in the cool water and began gently cleaning the burns, starting with a small burn on her face and working his way down her body, holding her squirming body still with one hand and ignoring her moans.  Estel had only been working a few minutes when a woman joined him.

            “How can I help?” Malrín asked as she knelt down opposite Estel, biting her lip as she looked at Celin.

            “Right now I need you to get me more cool water and some clean cloths and then I want you to hold her still for me,” Estel replied, glancing at her and then giving her a brief, reassuring smile upon seeing the young woman’s nervousness.  Malrín hurried away to do as he asked while Estel continued on and then the two of them worked silently together for a time upon her return.  When the water in which the athelas had been steeping was cool, Estel lightly rewashed each burn and Malrín looked at him, surprised by the pleasant scent of flowers it gave off.

            “What is that?” she whispered.

            “Athelas,” he replied absently, not looking up from the girl’s burned body.  Never had he imagined that a body could suffer these kinds of burns and live and yet he knew that these were not even the worst types of burns.  The burns the boy Nestad was tending appeared worse and he was sure that some of those covered bodies he had seen outside had died from burns... burns and, most likely, inhaling the smoke or being hit by falling debris.  Estel thrust those thoughts aside and concentrated on helping the living.  He finally finished cleaning each of the girl’s many burns and he sat back on his heels and thought for a moment about the different salves and things that would be best for the burns.  “Do you have honey?”

            “In here?  Whatever for?” Malrín asked, shocked.

            “It works well as a salve for burns and will help them from becoming infected.”

            “We have it,” Nestad said, “It’s in the large dark brown crock on the right side of the shelf.”  Malrín retrieved it shaking her head in wonderment.

            Estel carefully dabbed the honey on each burn and then lightly wrapped them, taking extra care around the burns on her fingers and he did not wrap the burn on her face, though he did apply a thin layer of honey to it.  He was aware when Halbarad entered the room and set his pack down beside him, though his cousin said nothing, simply patting his shoulder before leaving.  Celin had drifted into unconsciousness at some point and so Estel directed Malrín to begin boiling more water and then to pour it into large basins while he finished with the girl.  When he finished he carefully wrapped a blanket around her before standing and stretching.  Estel washed his hands thoroughly before starting more basins of athelas steeping and moving on to the next patient, a boy he guessed to be somewhere around fifteen who was also burned and he started the whole process over. 

           Estel lost track of the time as he worked steadily on the injured, it often took hours to clean and cover the burns on a single patient, and some of them also had broken bones where parts of a building had fallen on them. Then there were the two young men with arrows that needed to be removed and he and Nestad each tended to one of those before they began calling in the less severely wounded who were waiting on the porch.  At some point during the long day two other women came in to help with the wounded, women Estel assumed had been helping with the fires or some other things that needed doing around the village.  He imagined that there were many, many things that needed to be taken care of right now.

            Nestad had looked at Estel appraisingly when he began using athelas though he said nothing at the time.  There were few healers that used the plant as there was only one person that could completely release its full healing potential.  He was aware that the Chieftain had returned to the Dúnedain and he wondered if it was this young man.  That he called himself Estel and not Aragorn puzzled him but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind to deal with later and instead asked if he could use the athelas infused water as well and Estel had simply nodded and made more.  Nestad was not a fool and he knew that athelas prepared by the hands of the Chieftain would be more healing than anything else that could be done for the patients.  If nothing else the sweet smelling fragrance began to overpower the smell of burnt flesh that filled the room.  During the occasional glimpses Nestad took of Estel tending a patient, he could see that he was a gifted healer and, more than that, a compassionate one as he spoke calmly and soothingly to those who were awake.

            Tiredly washing his chapped hands for the last time… at least for now, Estel glanced around the room with a discerning eye.  All of the injured had been made as comfortable as possible and those that could walk had been helped home, or at least to someone’s home to rest and recover.  Left in the healing room were the eight with the worst injuries and while he thought that most of them would survive, he and Nestad were concerned about the young boy, Culas, that Nestad had been tending when he first arrived and an older woman – the mother of Culas and Celin.  Drying his hands, Estel slumped back against the wall and glanced out the window at the stars, not really surprised to discover that it was only a couple of hours before midnight.  Halhigal had come in several times throughout the day and spoken to him briefly and quietly about immediate arrangements for the village until finally Estel had told him to just do what he thought best and that he would speak with him later.  He had eaten a couple of bites of bread and cheese at some point during the day but had never finished it and Estel realized how hungry he was and wondered where he might get some food, though sleep sounded wonderful as well.  And a bath or at least a change of clothes he thought as he glanced down at his blood stained clothing.

            “Are you hungry, my lord?” Nestad’s low voice brought Estel’s head up.

            “Yes, I… how did you know?” he knew he had introduced himself as Estel and while it had not been on purpose or with the intent to deceive it had allowed him to simply be himself as he tended to the patients.

            Nestad gave a short, quiet laugh.  “Not many healers use athelas, my lord, nor does Halhigal come and seek the advice of a young man such as yourself on important matters.  I had heard that you had returned, but I didn’t know you were called Estel,” he said, frowning.  His tired, dark-rimmed eyes were puzzled.

            “I did not mean to deceive you, Nestad.  My name is Aragorn but Estel is the name I was called during my years in Imladris and when you asked I said it without thinking.  Forgive me,” he gave the man an apologetic smile before yawning.

            Nestad snorted, “Forgive you?  Of course, though you didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m just glad you were here, no matter who you are.  People would have died without another healer here.”

            Estel nodded before he replied.  “They would have… they still might.”

            “Yes, perhaps.  Come, Laereth will watch over them for a time while we eat.”  Nestad led the way outside and stopped on the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool night air, thankful that there was only a faint lingering scent of smoke.  Halbarad was sitting on the edge of the porch leaning back against a pole, sleeping.  Estel walked over to him on silent feet and nudged him with his boot.

            “Wake up, Cousin.”

            Halbarad opened one eye and peered up at Aragorn, “I’m awake, Aragorn.” He sat all the way up, stretching his back, somewhat sore from all the digging out and lifting he had done that day.  “Adar wants to see you when you’re done here,” he glanced behind Aragorn.

            “This is Nestad,” Estel indicated the healer, “and this is my cousin, Halbarad.”  The men exchanged nods.  “What does he want?”

            Halbarad shrugged, “He didn’t say, I just know he wanted to see you as soon as you were finished.”

            Estel frowned and then turned back to Nestad, “It appears you will have to eat without me.  I will return when I can or, if you need me, I will be at,” he looked questioningly at Halbarad.

            “Gelmir’s house.”  The men parted and Estel and Halbarad walked quietly for a time, Halbarad giving his cousin little looks of concern from the corner of his eye as the younger man yawned frequently and kept rubbing his eyes.

            “I am all right,” Estel said after a time.  “I have a headache,” he shrugged, “tired, of course, but probably no more than you.”

            “I slept for several hours this evening.  Did you take anything for your pain?” Halbarad asked, already knowing the answer and not in the least surprised when his cousin shook his head.  Halbarad frowned.  “You should have,” he chided softly.

            “Perhaps, but I fear that we will not have enough for those that are seriously hurt, Halbarad.  There are so many of them and some of them are so young,” he whispered.

            Halbarad grimaced, “I know, I saw them earlier.  How many died?”

            “Five that I know of, there may have been more,” Estel shook his head.  “I do not know what happened out here while I was tending them.”

            “A lot happened,” Halbarad said grimly.  “All of the food supplies were destroyed, Aragorn.  Both of the buildings where the wheat and corn was stored and the building where the dried meat was kept were burned to the ground.”

            Estel stopped in his tracks, a look of horror on his face.  “Everything is gone?”  Halbarad nodded continuing to walk and after a moment Estel followed him, his mind racing with the implications for the people of Taurnand.  “Nothing could be salvaged?”

            “A little, but not much.  Gilost and I and some of the young men and women spent our day trying to recover what we could, but it’s not much.  It won’t last long with this many people.”

            Reaching Gelmir’s house, they found Halhigal and Gelmir sitting on the porch waiting for them, a small oil lamp providing light.  Introductions were swiftly made and Estel finally sat down in a chair with a weary sigh, running his hands through his hair as he leaned against the back of the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

            “Can I get you something to eat or drink, Lord Aragorn?” Gelmir inquired politely with a quick little bob of his head.

            “Yes, something simple would be fine,” Estel answered and the man stood and slowly hobbled inside.  Estel wondered what had happened to him and then shook the thoughts away at his uncle’s question.

            “How are the injured, Aragorn?”

            “I am quite concerned about two of them but I think that the other six in the healing room will recover in time.  We sent the rest home to be cared for by others.  Nestad, Laereth, and I will watch over the ones still there… at least for a few days.”

            Halhigal slowly shook his head as he quietly advised his nephew.  “I would suggest that Nestad and Laereth watch over them, Aragorn, and that you attend on them only if there is great need.”  He paused at Aragorn’s wide-eyed stare.  “There was such a need today, but the people need you to be their leader tomorrow, Aragorn.  Celeblas is dead and Gelmir is not in a position to take on that responsibility.  They need someone strong to give them hope,” he gave his nephew a small smile, “and to lead them through this.”

            “You are here and they know you,” Estel pointed out weakly, knowing it was a losing argument even as he said it.  Halhigal did not bother responding and Estel knew his uncle was right, but his heart ached for his injured people and he would be with them to ease their pain if he could.  Though he knew that Nestad did not really need him now and the healer could summon him.  And it was his responsibility to see to the needs of all of his people not just those that were injured.  Estel stared into the darkness briefly before meeting his uncle’s eyes again and giving him a brisk nod.  He asked Halbarad to go and inform Nestad that he would not be returning but that the healer was to send for him immediately if he was needed.  Estel watched Halbarad walk away and then started when a large black dog laid its head in his lap and then he relaxed and began petting it absently as he and his uncle continued their discussion.

            “The dead will need to be buried in the morning,” Halhigal said.  He waited for some response from Aragorn and continued when he said nothing.  “You will need to see to that, Aragorn, and to say something when they are buried.”

            “Me?” Estel frowned and closed his eyes wearily.  Until today he had never even seen a dead body other than that of an orc or an animal.  Elves did not die unless of great grief or in a battle and none had on any of the patrols he had been on.  He opened his eyes and saw Halhigal gazing at him with compassion and something in his uncle’s eyes reminded Estel of his naneth.  “What…what do I say at something like that?  I’ve never been to a funeral before and I do not know any of these people.”

            “Speak from your heart, Aragorn.  That is what people will remember and what they will cherish.  You can talk to any of the family members before the funeral and find out about them, but I would advise you to keep it simple and speak from your heart.”

            Estel nodded and looked up as Gelmir came back out with his food.  He gently pushed the dog away and dug into a hot bowl of stew and a thick slice of bread that was thinly spread with butter.  A large cup of ale and an apple were set within easy reach and he smiled his thanks at Gelmir.  Gelmir took his leave of them, pleading old age and fatigue and they wished him good-night as he left.  Halhigal picked up the conversation where they had left off.

            “The villagers know that you do not know them and will not expect you to speak of the individuals… there are too many of them,” Halhigal looked away briefly as he thought of the loss of life here.  It was the most lives that had been lost at one time since the attack on Dolomar three years ago.  That the villages were being attacked so frequently was alarming.  “Others will speak of the individuals, but you will start the ceremony and end it.”  Estel nodded.  “You know,” Halhigal continued quietly, “that you will also perform weddings,” he smiled at his nephew.

            Estel swallowed the last of his bread before answering, “Those will be enjoyable,” he said with a small smile that quickly faded as he thought of Arwen.  But he just as quickly pushed the thought away; it was not something he would focus on or that he could change at this point in his life and so he changed the subject.  “Halbarad told me that the food is mostly gone,” he frowned down at the bowl in his hand.

            “Yes,” Halhigal rubbed his forehead and frowned as well.  “I had them save what they could and it’s in the Hall, but it’s not much.  I thought that tomorrow we would have people bring whatever they have stored in their homes to the Hall so that it could be shared with everyone as well.  But I doubt that whatever we have will last more than three or four weeks.”

            “How many houses were lost?”

            “Four, but that’s not as big a problem, mostly it’s the clothing and the bedding that was lost that will be the most difficult to replace,” Halhigal sighed.  “People have extras and will share what they can.  It will be enough to get them by for now.”

            Estel drained the last of his ale and set the cup and the bowl aside; he rubbed his eyes tiredly as he thought, his head still throbbing.  He suddenly knew what they must do, though he was not sure how his uncle would respond.  “We have to bring back the patrols,” he said quietly.  Halhigal slowly began to shake his head and Estel held up his hand to forestall his protests.  “These families need their husbands, and fathers, and brothers to provide for them, Uncle.”

            “You cannot do that, Aragorn!  It will leave areas unprotected and open to attack.”

            Estel’s eyes flashed as he responded angrily.  “I cannot do that?  I thought I was Chieftain of the Dúnedain and could order my Rangers as I wanted.  That my people would follow my directions, Uncle Halhigal, is that not true?”

            Halhigal backed down.  He could see that Aragorn’s exhaustion, grief, and pain had pushed him past his breaking point.  This conversation needed to be continued in the morning.  “Of course it’s true, Aragorn and I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.”  He hesitated and then suggested, “I think we should talk about this in the morning, nothing can be done tonight.”

            Estel turned his tired eyes back to Halhigal and nodded once and took a deep, steadying breath.  “Yes, we should,” he replied quietly and then continued in an even softer voice that Halhigal had to strain to hear.  “Forgive me for speaking to you in such a manner; I had no cause to do so.”

            “No, you didn’t,” Halhigal agreed after a brief pause.  “Our bedrolls are in the house and I know I could use some sleep.”  He stood, waiting for his nephew to join him.

            “I think I will wait for Halbarad.”

            “I’m here, Aragorn,” he stepped out from around the corner of the house, looking slightly embarrassed.  “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

            “Perhaps you should have,” Estel commented with a wry smile as he stood.

            Halhigal chuckled and clapped him on the back as the three of them entered the house.

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            Awake before dawn, Estel eased out of his bedroll and tried to slip quietly from the house, pausing when he noticed the eyes of Gilost and Halbarad watching him from their places on the floor in front of the hearth.  He shook his head at their offer to accompany him, explaining his desire to see the village on his own.  Glancing around for Halhigal, Estel was still tired enough that it took him a moment to remember that he had taken the last watch with one of the young men of the village.  As he walked, villagers were beginning to stir; he could hear them talking as he passed the houses.  Estel stopped and looked at the buildings that had been the food storage for the entire village and shook his head at the destruction.  All of the fires were on this one side of the village and he wondered if it had been many arrows or if the fire had just spread rapidly, he would have to ask someone.  Whichever it had been, it had been the first part of the attack and had caught the people totally unawares which is why so many had died or had been injured.

           Finding a tree in a somewhat secluded area, Estel sat under it to consider what needed to be done.  While the way he had spoken to Halhigal had been inappropriate, he still believed calling back the Rangers would have to be done.  The villagers could not survive here without help and Estel was not willing to risk his peoples’ survival in order to protect an area that may or may not be in immediate danger.  Even with the men here though, he did not know how they would get through the winter without having wheat and corn and the other vegetables and fruits that had been gathered and preserved.  With the men returning, it could be done, but it would be extremely difficult for them.  A thought floated across his mind and he paused and considered it carefully.  It was not a solution that anyone would be particularly happy with and yet it was one that would ease the burden of the women and children and would allow the men to return to their duties in a relatively short amount of time.  Perhaps it would work.  Sighing, Estel leaned back against the tree and the advice Elladan gave to him as they parted came to him, ‘Heed Halhigal’s counsel, and do what you believe is best for your people.  You have learned from the very best of teachers, Estel, do not doubt yourself’.  With that thought in mind, he stood and made his way back to Gelmir’s house, stopping and speaking with those he passed, the people of Taurnand, while somber and grieving, still eager to meet him.

            Estel met Halhigal as his uncle was going to the Hall and they walked together speaking of the need to gather the food.  Finally, Estel broached the subject they had discussed the night before.  “I really do believe that we need the men here, Uncle Halhigal.  I just do not see how the women and children can survive without their help.”  He briefly paused, running his hand through his hair.  “I am not willing to risk their lives for the sake of protecting an area of Eriador that may or may not be in danger.”  The two of them had stopped in the middle of the lane and were talking in low, urgent voices and people gave them curious looks as they walked by.  “Even with them here it will be difficult and…”

            Halhigal interrupted him.  “Yes, it will be,” he released a heavy sigh as he stared at the ground.  “You’re right, Aragorn, it is not something I want to do, but I’ve been thinking about it and you are right.  Perhaps we can have some of the other patrols swing a little farther east and cover those areas as well,” Halhigal shrugged.

            “I was wondering,” Estel said hesitantly and then continued at Halhigal’s nod.  “Do you think we should move these people to the other villages?  Split them up between the other four for the winter so that they will have enough clothing and bedding and, most importantly, food.  Mainly I was thinking of the wheat, corn, and vegetables, the men can provide meat, but I worry about the other food.  Children, especially need those.  The men could escort them to the other villages and then return to their patrols.  I do know it would be a big burden for the other villages.”  He watched Halhigal carefully for his response.

            Staring at the ground as Aragorn spoke, Halhigal narrowed his eyes in thought as he tried to think of all that moving the people would entail and finally he shifted his gaze back to his Chieftain and slowly shook his head.  “I don’t know, Aragorn.  This village would probably be destroyed over the winter and these people could never come back.  I would hate to see us lose another one… we’ve lost too many over the years.  But,” he sighed, “it might be the best thing to do.  It’s the smallest village, they only have enough men right now to send out two patrols, though they have some young men that will be joining them soon and might allow them to add a third.” 

            “We cannot do anything until the men return so that gives us some time to think about it and to talk with the people.  Do you… or I guess it would be me,” Estel gave his uncle a faint smile, “do I appoint someone to run the village now that Celeblas is dead?  Or, do the villagers pick someone?”

            ”You appoint someone, but there is little choice here.  Gelmir is not able to do it.  It will have to be either Nestad or Mellonar.  He teaches swordplay and archery and just stopped patrolling a few years ago.”

            “Who do you suggest?  I only know Nestad as a healer; I do not know how he would be as a leader.”

            “I actually think he would be the better man as leader, the people seem to respond well to him, though he can be a little abrupt at times.”

            Estel nodded and turned to the next decision that had to be made.  “We have to send for the Rangers, where do they patrol?”

            “It takes about six days to get to the closest patrol; though of course they could be anywhere in their assigned area.  The other patrol is beyond that, another four or five days west.”

            “Do we send just Gilost, or him and Halbarad?” Estel asked.  He knew that it was not a task that he or Halhigal could do, much as they might like to.

            Frowning, Halhigal stared at the ground for several moments.  “I do not like to send any of our Rangers out alone, but I think we are going to need Halbarad here.  It will be at least two weeks before the first of the patrols return and it’ll take all of us to repair damage to the stockade, to stand watch, and to provide food for the villagers.  Didn’t you say that several of the young men were wounded?”

            “Yes, two of them and also a couple of older looking boys and it will be at least three or four weeks before they can be out hunting or doing much of anything.”

            “That leaves only Nestad, Mellonar, and two young men that can hunt and we cannot all leave the village at one time.  And with all of his patients, I doubt that Nestad will be able to leave at all.”  Halhigal shook his head.  “No, I think Halbarad needs to stay and Gilost will have to go alone.”

            Estel nodded, “Then I will speak with Gilost and send him off.  If you will start the women gathering the food, then I will speak with Nestad about his appointment as village leader and about the burials.  It will also give me a chance to check on the injured.”

            Halhigal nodded and the two of them started another long, hard day in the village of Taurnand as they helped the people recover from the devastating attack.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. I will answer everyone by email if I have an address.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 8

            Estel paused and wiped off his forehead with his sleeve, sweating in spite of the bitter wind that had sprung up in the last few hours carrying with it the threat of snow.  He took a quick drink from his waterskin before he resumed digging the grave he had almost completed.  None of the five graves were deep, but Halhigal, Eradan, and some of the boys and girls were down at the river collecting stones to cover each grave to keep out scavengers.  The burial ground stood near the edge of the forest and was quite large, indicating the long presence of the village on this spot along the Bruinen.  Estel looked up at Halbarad’s voice.

            “Are you almost finished?”

            “Yes,” Estel took one final shovelful of dirt and tossed it on the pile to his right and stuck his shovel in the dirt before holding his hand up to his cousin and letting him pull him up out of the grave.  “Thanks.”  He briskly brushed the dirt off his leggings and tunic before belting his sword back on.  Picking up his cloak he swung it over his shoulder and, after taking one last glance at the graves, he headed back to the village with Halbarad at his side.

            “Have you decided what you’re going to say?” Halbarad asked, knowing how concerned Aragorn was about having to speak when they gathered to bury those that had died.

            “No,” Estel replied, frowning.  “I am sort of hoping that words will just come to me at the time,” he admitted.  He stopped and put his cloak on, cold now that he had stopped working.  Halbarad did the same and they continued on.  “Halhigal said to speak from the heart and that I will do… my heart is grieved for these people, Halbarad.”  He shrugged, “It will be enough.”

            A rumbling noise caught their attention and they looked to see the wagon full of stones being driven by Eradan approaching, Halhigal and the boys and girls walking alongside.  Estel and Halbarad went to meet them and Eradan drew the team to a halt and the horses stood stomping and blowing in the cold air.  “I think it best if you put the wagon on the far side of the graves, Uncle,” Estel said without preamble.  “There is room there, I think, and it should not be in the way during the ceremony.”  Halhigal nodded and motioned Eradan to drive on.

            “I don’t think I need to go with him, Aragorn.”  Though he did send a couple of the older boys along to help with the horses and he sent the rest of the boys and girls ahead of them into the village while they slowly followed behind.

            Estel nodded somewhat absently, his mind clearly somewhere else.  “We need to burn the bodies of the orcs before it snows.”  The three of them, along with Mellonar and Eradan had dragged the bodies of the orcs that littered the ground near the stockade out to where the other bodies lay in the fields – where they had engaged them in hand-to-hand combat and destroyed them.  But they had not burned them, wanting to wait until after the funeral that the stench not overcome the mourners.  But if much snow fell the task of burning bodies that were wet could prove difficult and Estel did not want the bodies around to attract scavengers.

            Halhigal and Halbarad both glanced up at the sky and took long considering looks at the clouds that had formed in the last hour.  It was Halhigal that spoke.  “I think we have a few hours yet and I still think our original plan was right, not to burn them until after the funeral.”

            “We could have the funeral sooner,” Halbarad suggested somewhat hesitantly.  His opinion had not been sought on any of the decisions that Aragorn and his adar had made and while he was neither surprised nor bothered by that, it also made him hesitant to make suggestions.

            “I wanted to give those who are injured some time to rest in hopes that at least some of them could come,” Halhigal said slowly.  “But, perhaps you are right.”  He shot Aragorn an inquiring glance and his nephew nodded.

            “Everything is ready now.  Mellonar told me that they made the litters to carry the bodies and I cannot think of anything else that needs to be done.”  Estel looked at his uncle as they entered the village and Halhigal shook his head.  “Then I will inform Nestad that we are going to do it now and he can have some of the boys and girls let the people know.  The temperature will continue to drop in any case and it is best to do it quickly that those who are injured not be out in the cold too long.  I will meet you at Gelmir’s, I do want to wash at least.”  He frowned down at his dirty clothes but knew that it was not worth changing.  He was going to be burning orcs later and he did not have that many changes of clothing and did not know when he would have time to wash the blood stained clothes he had worn the day before.  However, Estel could wash his hands and face and he would take a moment to do that.  Nodding, Halbarad and Halhigal turned in the direction of Gelmir’s house while Estel headed for the healing room to speak with Nestad.

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           As Estel led the line of villagers through the gate and towards the nearby burial ground, he pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders against the cold wind. The snow had not yet begun to fall, but the darkening clouds suggested that it would begin soon.  His hand rested casually on his sword as he walked and his face was somber, almost expressionless, though inside he was grieving for the loss of life and for the pain his people were enduring.  Besides Celeblas they were going to bury a woman, her fourteen year old son, and two young children - a four year old girl and a seven year old boy from two different families.  The bodies of the dead were being carefully carried on litters by people of all ages.  There were so many injured that there were not enough people to carry all five litters and the two children were placed together on one litter.  As many of the injured came as was possible, but Nestad had forbidden some to attend and so less than forty people gathered to see their family and friends buried.

            Estel took a deep, steadying breath as the litters were set down by each grave and then his eyes flicked from family to family of those who had lost kin.  His eyes lingered longest on the two quietly crying girls that had lost their mother and younger brother.  Their father and older brother would be coming back with the patrols, but for now they were alone except for the loving care of the villagers they had known all their lives.  Estel knew it would suffice and the girls would be well taken care of, but it was not the same as having family with you during such a difficult time.  The mothers of the two children they were burying should have been in bed recovering from their own injuries, but they had insisted on attending and Estel had not the heart to refuse them.  Someone had brought stools for them and they sat, stunned, grieving, and weary, surrounded by their surviving children, most of who were also bandaged.  Celeblas’s wife, his two grown daughters, his daughter-in-law, and his grandchildren stood to one side of the gathering, their faces lined with grief.

            At a nod from Halhigal, Estel cleared his throat nervously and began to speak in a low voice that nevertheless carried to all that were there.  “I grieve that I was not able to meet Celeblas, Elgalad, Rothin, Lanthir, or Inthenin.  I have heard much of them today and I know that they were much loved by their kin and by the rest of you and I would have liked to have met them and known them as you did.”  Estel looked down briefly and then around at the villagers once again as he sought for the right words to bring them some sort of comfort.  Finally, after a short pause that seemed awkward to no one but himself, he simply said, “I wish that there were some words that I could say that could take your grief or ease your burden in some way but I can think of none.  All I can say is that I am sorry for the pain that you are feeling and I would ease it if I could.”  Estel stopped, aware that in his nervousness he was beginning to repeat himself.  “Who would like to speak about those who have passed?” he asked quietly, hoping that people would speak up so that he could stop. 

           Thankfully, the villagers had much to say about those who had died and one after another they stepped forward to speak.  Though most of the villagers spoke about Celeblas and the woman, Inthenin, several people also spoke about the children.  Estel had to blink back tears when one of the girls spoke about her mother and when the two mothers spoke about their children.  When it appeared everyone, including Halhigal who spoke of his long acquaintance with Celeblas, was finished, Estel stepped forward once again to conclude the funeral.  “May Ilúvatar bless and protect those of you who have lost your kin and may they find peace beyond the Circles of the World,” he said simply.  Snow began to drift down around them as he finished.

            The bodies were gently placed in the graves and each villager threw a handful of dirt in each grave before returning to the village for a communal meal.  Of course, it had been decided that all meals would be cooked communally for the foreseeable future to help ensure that food was not wasted.  Soon only Estel, Halbarad, Halhigal, Mellonar, Eradan, a young man named Pador, and several boys were left.  Glancing up at the falling snow, Estel turned to Halhigal and the others.  “We need to get the orcs burning as well as get the graves filled in.  Uncle, if you will handle the graves, I will see to the orcs.”  Estel paused briefly.  He did not really want to take any of the young men or boys with him and yet Halhigal would need at least one of the men to help him.  He made a quick decision, “Halbarad, Eradan, come with me.”

            “When was the last time you ate, Eradan?” Halbarad asked the young man in a casual manner, giving Aragorn a sidelong glance as they crossed the field towards where the orc bodies were lying.

            The young man shrugged, “Right before the burial.  My naneth gave me a bit of bread and an apple because I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she knew I wouldn’t make the meal.”  Eradan paused and gave Halbarad a knowing look.  “I’ve heard how bad it is, my lord.  I’ll be all right,” he said with a grim smile.  “Even if I do get sick, I can still do what needs to be done,” he added after a moment, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

            “I’m sure you will,” Halbarad said.  “We need you.  And I’m not a lord, Eradan.  You need only call Lord Aragorn that,” he reminded him once again.  Estel looked away, biting back a smile at the annoyance in Halbarad’s voice.

            “But you are Lord Aragorn’s cousin, are you not?”  Halbarad nodded once, eyeing Eradan closely.  “Then it seems to me that you should be a lord as well.  However, I will try and remember not to call you that again,” Eradan said with an earnest expression that was at odds with the mischievous glint in his eyes.  Halbarad simply shook his head in annoyance and continued walking.

            There were two piles of orcs and the stench hit them from thirty feet away.  Estel stopped and reached into his healer’s pack on his belt for something to cover their noses, but he had used all the bandaging supplies that he normally carried and had not had time to replace it.  Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he walked on noticing the white falling snow was already beginning to cover the black orc bodies.  At least the snow should prevent the fire from spreading.  He sent Eradan into the woods to gather some small, dead pieces of wood while he and Halbarad cleared a small area to start a fire.  When Eradan returned and Halbarad was kindling the fire, Estel looked long and hard at the young man for a moment.

            “All you need do is watch to make sure that the fires do not spread beyond the piles of orcs, Eradan.  We cannot let this field catch fire because it might sweep towards the village.  If you get sick or need help, tell us immediately, do not try and deal with it yourself.”  Eradan nodded his understanding.  “I want you on that side of the piles,” Estel pointed to the side closest to the woods and Eradan headed off without a word.  When the small fire was burning well, Estel and Halbarad each took a couple of long, burning branches and, exchanging brief grimaces, they quickly walked around the two piles setting them on fire. 

            When the fires were burning well, Estel stepped well back from the piles and pulled his cloak up and over his nose as his sharp grey eyes closely watched for sparks or spreading flames.  As he watched, he thought about the other things that needed to be done in the village.  They had not gotten the stockade repaired and he did not think they would be able to do that today.  Trees needed to be felled and trimmed for that, but the sun set too early and Estel did not think there would be time before dark.  They also needed to go hunting; he and Halbarad would have to go out in the morning with some of these young men.  A sudden gust of the bitter wind made that thought less than appealing, yet it needed to be done.  The sound of retching made him look up and he gave Eradan a sympathetic glance as Halbarad went to him, holding back the younger man’s hair and patting his back while he recovered.  Estel looked back at the graves and saw that each one had been filled in and the stones were starting to be placed on them. 

           Yawning tiredly and rubbing at his eyes, Estel wondered how Celin, Culas, and their mother, Rían, were doing.  When he had seen them earlier in the day, the twins had appeared to be recovering; Celin had spoken to him briefly and Culas had at least been awake and responsive, though he was still not out of danger.  But their mother had not looked well.  Her breathing was labored and that concerned him more than her numerous burns.  Estel frowned, wondering what else they could possibly try.  He absentmindedly stepped on a couple of sparks that landed near him.  His eyes widened and he swore softly under his breath as he thought of something he had not yet tried.  It was not something Estel even felt comfortable trying and yet he realized that in this case it might be their only hope.  “Halbarad,” he called sharply.

           Halbarad looked up at the urgent tone of Aragorn’s voice and hurried to his cousin’s side when he beckoned him over.

           “I need to return to the healing room.  Do you want me to send someone to help you?”

           Halbarad glanced around and shook his head, “Eradan and I will be fine.”  He watched with a puzzled frown as his cousin turn and sprinted towards the village and then began circling the piles to speak with Eradan.

0-0-0

            Slowing as he reached the building, Estel silently crossed the porch and eased the door open, trying not to disturb the patients.  Nestad was changing the bandages on one of the patients while Laereth appeared to be brewing more willow bark tea.  Estel was worried about the supply of herbs on hand but had not had a chance to speak to Nestad about it; though there was little he could do about it if they were running low.  Crossing quickly to Rían’s bed he saw that she was little changed from the morning, her breathing perhaps a little more labored.  Crouching down next to her, he stared blankly down at the floor for a time, trying to remember all that his adar had taught him about healing sleep.  It was a gift he had because of his ancestry, but again it was not something he had ever had to use.  It looked like he was going to experience many new things in Taurnand he thought wryly.  He only wished he had thought of this earlier because many of these people could be helped if he sent them into such a deep sleep; he just hoped he could do it correctly.

            “My lord?”

            Nestad’s quiet inquiry brought Estel out of his musing and he looked up at him.

            “Is there something the matter?”  Nestad wondered if Aragorn had discovered something or if something were wrong with Aragorn himself.

            “No, I am just trying to remember something.”  Estel stood and moved a few paces away from the patients that they not be overhead.  “I just remembered that one of the gifts of my ancestry is a… healing sleep.”

            “I had forgotten that,” Nestad said with a thoughtful look.  “Have you used it often?”

            “No, never,” he admitted.  “I have never had occasion to do so.  Adar had me observing and then helping in the healing rooms from when I was a young boy and I studied the healing arts intensely.  But elves do not get sick, though of course accidents happen and so stitches and setting broken bones is something I do quite well.  Though, I think I needed more stitches than I set,” Estel gave Nestad a brief, boyish grin.

           Nestad was suddenly reminded how very young his Chieftain was, only twenty if he remembered correctly.  His demeanor and his healing skills were those of a much older man.  He realized that he had grandchildren older than Aragorn.  He was pulled from his musings as Aragorn quickly sobered and continued.

           “When I patrolled with my brothers or Lord Glorfindel I never had need to use this healing sleep either.  There were arrow wounds and gashes from swords, but none to the point where any of us felt it was needed.”  Estel shrugged and looked thoughtful for a moment.  “I think it would help her,” he gestured to Rían, “and some of the others, I only wish I had thought of it earlier.”

            Nestad shook his head, “It matters not.  You’ve remembered now and I think it’s worth a try, though I am uncertain about it helping those who are having difficulty breathing.  But perhaps it might slow the breathing to a point where it will make it easier for them,” he shrugged.  “At this point we have nothing else we can do for them.”

            Estel nodded and hurried back to the Rían’s side and knelt beside her.  He took several deep breaths to calm himself and then placed his right hand on her forehead and closed his eyes to help him concentrate on what he was doing.  All Estel could do was try and follow what Adar had explained to him, how it felt when he pushed someone to sleep.  Somehow he had to connect with Rían’s spirit, sooth her and gently guide her into sleep.  For a long time all Estel could sense was darkness and then there was a spark of something that was different… something he could not really define at first and then he gradually became aware that it was the woman’s spirit and she was in excruciating pain.  His first instinct was to recoil away from it, but he held his ground and he somehow knew instinctively how to sooth her.  After a short time Rían quieted and the pain seemed to diminish and Estel was able to help her slip into a deep, healing sleep.  Estel removed his hand and slumped back against the wall behind him, breathing heavily, his eyes wide.

            “My lord!” Nestad cried in alarm, crouching down beside him and immediately reaching out and checking his pulse.

            Estel grabbed Nestad’s hand and moved it away from his throat.  “I am all right, Nestad.  It was just more… difficult than I thought it would be.”  He looked at the other healer and then away.  “I could sense her pain,” he said softly.  Pulling his knees up, he wrapped his arms around them as he continued.  “She is in terrible pain.  Adar never told me that I would sense their pain,” he whispered.  “Perhaps I did not listen the day he told me that,” he tried to smile, but failed.

            Nestad let him speak without interruption as he tried to remember if either Arathorn or Arador had ever mentioned this happening.  Though, as he thought about it, he could not remember a time that either of them had used healing sleep when he was with them.  Perhaps neither of them had the gift for it.  Nestad supposed it didn’t matter, what was important was helping Aragorn. 

            “Or, perhaps Lord Elrond does not sense their pain,” Nestad stated softly.  “Though, I think it more likely that he has just used it so often that he has learned how to deal with it, my lord,” he said in a low, soothing voice.  “Perhaps he forgot to tell you because he is so used to it.”  Nestad gave a small shrug and gave his Chieftain a comforting pat on his shoulder.

            “Adar does not forget things.  My gift must be different than his somehow,” Estel said with a thoughtful expression.  “But, as you said, I need to learn how to deal with it.”  He got back to his feet, waving off Nestad’s assistance, and moved back to Rían’s side.  Her breathing had slowed and appeared to be much less labored than it had been and her coloring was better.  “She appears to be doing better,” Estel commented, glancing at Nestad.

            “Yes,” Nestad checked her pulse and it had slowed to a normal beat and he gave Aragorn a small smile.  “It seems to have helped, my lord.”

            “I think Culas would also benefit.”  Estel moved to the young boy’s bed.

            “You’re willing to do it again?”

            “Of course,” Estel looked back at him in surprise.  “It would help him, and I can only learn how to do it by actually using it, Nestad.”

            Nestad made no comment, simply following him to support him if needed.  Since Estel knew what to expect it was a little easier to send Culas into a healing sleep, but it was draining nonetheless.  When he finished he moved on and sent two more patients into sleep and then Nestad stopped him.

            “That is enough, my lord,” he said firmly.  “The others are healing well.”

            “But they will heal faster if I help them,” Estel protested, though it was a rather weak protest.  He could see the last four patients were doing well enough without him.

            Nestad snorted.  “Yes, but we need you on your feet.  I do believe you have other things you need to be doing and this takes a lot out of you.”

            Estel nodded, “It does.  I wonder if I can learn how to control that as well.”  He shook his head and turned to more immediate, pressing concerns.  “You are right.”  Glancing out the window he saw that snow was falling thickly now and it was growing dark.  They had not set the watches for the night, not that there were a lot of options.

            “When was the last time you ate?”

            “What?” Estel’s thoughts were far away at the moment.

            “When did you last eat?” Nestad repeated patiently.  He suspected that Aragorn might be feeling weakened not just by sending people into this healing sleep, but also by a lack of food.

            “This morning… right before I spoke to you, I think.”

            “My Lord Aragorn,” Nestad lowered his voice but it was gently chiding in tone.  “You must remember to eat.  You cannot expect to work like you’ve done today with as little sleep as you’ve gotten the last few nights and not eat either.  Your body must have at least some food.  As a healer you know this and I would expect you to take better care of yourself.”

            Blinking his eyes several times as he stared at the healer, Estel finally gave him a brisk nod.  “There was no time today, Nestad, but you are right and I should have taken something with me.  Though, if food runs short, I will not eat more food than any other adult.”

            Nestad waved his hand dismissively.  “I’m not talking about that, my lord.  Everyone will be treated the same,” he started moving towards the door and he changed the subject.  “Laereth told me the funeral went well.”

            Estel shrugged, “It was my first one,” he admitted.  “So, I really do not know if it went well or not.  I am glad that she thought so.”  He glanced over at Laereth where she was giving one of the patients a drink.  He wrapped his cloak around himself.

            “I can help with the watch tonight, my lord.  Laereth is willing to stay here and I think our patients will be fine under her care… especially now.”

            Estel hesitated only a moment as he looked closely at the older man, taking in his dark-rimmed eyes and then shook his head.  “No, I want you to go home and sleep for at least half of the night and I want Lady Laereth to return to her home and sleep for the other half of the night.”  He held up his hand to stop Nestad’s protests.  “I know that you did not get much, if any, sleep last night either, Nestad, and you need sleep as much as I need food.”  Estel smiled briefly.  “There are six of us to watch and Mellonar and Pador saw no signs of orcs when they did a short patrol this morning.  I need you to look after the patients and you need to be well rested to do that.”

            Nestad gave a reluctant nod, “All right, my lord, but do not forget that I am a Ranger as well as a healer.”

            “I will not.  Halhigal and I will be by in the morning to speak with you.  Good-night,” Estel headed out into the cold and snow, this time in pursuit of supper.

0-0-0

            Estel and Halbarad talked quietly as they saddled their horses in the early morning darkness.  Eradan and Pador knuckled sleep from their eyes as they listened to the older men while they also saddled horses in preparation for the hunt the four of them were setting out on.  None of them had had more than five hours of sleep.  The two young men had stood first watch and Estel and Halbarad had just finished their own and now Halhigal and Mellonar were on guard.  They needed to find some kind of meat today.  The women estimated that what they had could be stretched to last another eighteen to twenty days.  But mostly what they had been able to salvage was wheat and a small amount of corn, plus whatever dried fruits, vegetables, and cheeses families had in their own homes.  They needed meat for the protein it would provide and to make the rest of the food last as long as possible.

            “What’s the biggest deer you ever shot?”

            Estel thought for a moment, “Ten points is all, you?”  He cinched up the girth strap.

            “I shot a sixteen point buck once,” there was a definite note of satisfaction in Halbarad’s voice.

            Estel turned and gave his cousin a hard stare.  “A sixteen point buck?  I’ve never even heard my brothers speak of a deer that size.  But, perhaps they just never mentioned it,” he turned back to his horse and Halbarad had no doubt that he did not believe him.

            “You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked, hurt that Aragorn would think he would lie about anything.

            “Of course I do,” he quickly replied, not looking at Halbarad; he simply finished strapping his small pack onto his horse and prepared to lead it from the stables. 

           Halbarad angrily attached his own pack and then patted his horse as he waited for Aragorn and the young men to finish and then trailed behind the others as they led their horses from the stables and out through the gate.  He gave his adar a brisk nod, ignoring his concerned frown, as he passed him.  Stopping just outside the village, the four of them mounted up and headed slowly up the river to an area Mellonar had recommended.

           The only light was from the moon, but it reflected brightly off the fast flowing Bruinen and off the glistening snow.  It had stopped snowing well before midnight and two to three inches covered the ground, but it was already much warmer than the day before and Halbarad doubted the snow would remain on the ground more than a day or two.  They rode for close to an hour before lightness in the east heralded the coming of the sun and they reined their horses to a halt in a small copse of trees and tied them securely.

           Few words had been spoken as they traveled - none between Estel and Halbarad - and now Halbarad would not meet his cousin’s eyes and Estel grimaced inwardly.  He knew he was wrong, that Halbarad would not lie to him about shooting a deer or anything else.  But he could not take the time to speak with him now, the deer would soon be moving and they needed to find them before they bedded down for the day.  Estel split them into two teams.

           “Eradan, I want you to come with me.  Pador, stay with Halbarad and follow his directions.  Eradan and I will go down along the waters edge and head upriver a mile or so and see what we can find.  You two can stay on this side of the trail.”  Mellonar had told them that this area had several well traveled trails that the deer often used to come down for water.  Halbarad nodded and Estel and Eradan headed off.  Estel had only gone a couple of hundred feet when he stopped.  “Wait here, Eradan.”  He turned and jogged back to where Halbarad and Pador where slowly moving off and he saw his cousin motion Pador away.

            “Forgive me, Halbarad.  Of course you shot a sixteen point buck; you would never lie about something like that.”

            “Or anything else,” Halbarad said quietly.  “I don’t lie, Aragorn.  Not to you, not to anyone.  I would have thought you might have known that by now.”  He gave his cousin a wry smile, “Though I suppose we really haven’t known each other that long.  It just seems like it at times.”

            “We have known each other long enough and I do know that,” Estel shook his head.  “It is not in your character to lie and I do apologize.”

            “I forgive you,” Halbarad reached out and clasped his cousin’s forearm tightly.  “Now go and find your own sixteen point buck,” he waved him away.

            “I am the one who is supposed to be in charge here,” Estel said with a mock frown.  Halbarad simply laughed and walked away while Estel jogged back to Eradan.

            “Did you apologize to him?” Eradan asked curiously and somewhat hesitantly, yet not afraid of this man who was his Chieftain.

            Estel looked down at him in surprise and gave him a small smile.  “Yes, because I was wrong, Eradan.  Now, come, we need to find some deer.”  They hurried upriver.

0-0-0

            “Here,” Estel breathed out softly, pointing out the tracks of three deer that stood out sharply in the snow.  The tracks led down to the river and then away again.  He and Eradan crouched down beside the tracks and studied them, looking closely at the length and width of the tracks to try and determine the size of the deer and if they were bucks or does.  “Two are bucks and this one is a doe,” he said after a moment.  Eradan nodded his agreement.  They stood and followed the tracks for a few yards until they split, with the two bucks going in slightly different directions, with the doe going with what appeared to be the larger buck.  Estel frowned.  They needed two of the deer if they could get them.  He glanced down at the young man at his side.  “Have you hunted by yourself before?”

            “Yes, quite a few times.  Celeblas allowed us to go out when we turned eighteen, and I’m nineteen, my lord.”

            Estel was reluctant to let him go with the threat of orcs in the area even though it was daylight.  There was always the possibility of stumbling over the place they had denned up for the day.  Still, they did need the meat.  “I want you to track and take this one if you can.”  He pointed to the tracks that would at least be between where he and Halbarad were hunting.  “Use the bird signal I taught you if you need help.”  Estel clapped Eradan on the shoulder and moved silently off to follow the other set of tracks. 

            It was easy to follow the tracks in the snow and Estel slowed when he saw that the deer had begun to paw through the snow to graze.  He knew that once it had eaten its fill then it would look to bed down to rest for the day and so he slowed his movements as he neared any type of thicket or place a deer might hide, scanning them carefully.  Suddenly Estel saw what he was looking for.  And it wasn’t by his usual means of seeing the brown coloring of the deer or the flick of an ear, but the snow that covered the clump of bushes had been disturbed.  Carefully checking the wind and seeing that he was downwind, he moved cautiously forward, his arrow nocked and at a half draw.  He was able to approach within thirty yards before the buck exploded out of the bushes and leaped towards freedom.  But Estel was quicker and had an arrow in the animal’s chest before it had taken more than a couple of steps and it dropped immediately. 

            Laying his cloak aside, Estel pulled his belt knife and began the long, messy process of gutting and cleaning the deer and making it ready to take back to the village.  An hour later as he was finishing he heard the sound of approaching horses and he whistled to alert them to his location.  The other three hunters rode through the trees with pleased expressions on their faces and Estel saw that each of them had also had successful hunts.  Four deer wouldn’t last long among fifty-five people, but it was a start.  Halbarad gave him an inquiring look.

            “Six points.  Yours?”

            “Eight,” Halbarad replied with a grin.  Estel shook his head and laughed before turning his gaze to Eradan.

            “Eight points, my lord,” the young man replied, smiling.  “I thought there were ten, but I counted twice and there are only eight,” a twinkle lit the depths of his dark grey eyes.

            “I am glad to know that you can count that high,” Estel commented dryly as he began cleaning his knife.  Eradan simply grinned at him.  Estel looked at the last member of their party, who seemed quite reserved… at least he had been since Estel had known him.  Estel did not know if it was caused by the events of the last few days, if it was his natural personality, or if it was caused by Estel’s presence.  The young man finally answered the unspoken question in a quiet voice.

            “Mine was only a six point buck, my Lord Aragorn.”

            “Thank you, Pador.  At least you remembered that you should not shoot a deer that is larger than your Chieftain’s, unlike these two.  I might have to assign them additional watches or something.”  Estel got to his feet and hoisted the deer up with a small grunt and set it behind his saddle where he lashed it in place.  He looked over to see amusement on Halbarad’s face and uncertainty on the faces of the two young men.  “Though,” he said as he swung up into the saddle, “as we do need the meat for the villagers, I suppose I can overlook it this time.”  Halbarad started chuckling and Estel joined him after giving each of the young men a quick grin.  Eradan grinned in returned and Pador lost the look of uncertainty that he wore and relaxed in his saddle.  Urging their horses into a trot, they headed back to the village.

0-0-0

Author notes:  I base Aragorn’s ability to send someone into a healing sleep on the fact that he was able to do that to Frodo and Sam in the Return of the King.  I do not know if he could feel their pain or not, Tolkien never said anything about it, but to me if you are sensing and soothing someone else it only made sense that you would.  I also did not think that you would practice sending others into a healing sleep, but of course it is entirely possible that he would have done so.

As I know little about deer hunting myself, I did do some research about tracking and such and also spoke with a friend who is an avid hunter. I discovered that there are two ways to count the points on a buck, either the total number of points or the number of points on each half of the head.  It seems to depend on where you are from which way you count them, obviously I took the total number of points.

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 9

            Sitting in a small storage area off of the healing room, Estel, Halhigal, and Nestad sat discussing what needed to be done to help the villagers.  They discussed the rationing of food, the supply of medicinal herbs, the need to send out scouts to patrol the area surrounding the village, and the need to return the animals back to their normal pastures and whether or not they had enough uninjured boys to do that and, if not, the possibility of having some of the older girls helping them.  It was Estel who first broached the idea of sending people to other villages for at least the winter months.

            “Nestad, Uncle Halhigal and I have been considering sending the people off to the other villages.  We are concerned that there is not enough food to last over the winter, especially wheat and vegetables.  The men can provide meat, but you know that those other foods are essential.  I know it would be difficult to move people and hard to abandon the village and it will also place a burden on the other villages, but it should not be an overwhelming burden.  At least I hope not,” Estel added with a thoughtful frown.  “It should also allow the men to return to their patrols in a short amount of time.”

            Nestad gazed at him without blinking and then glanced at Halhigal and back to Aragorn.  “Are you asking for my opinion, my lord?  It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”  His voice was carefully neutral.

            Estel returned his gaze steadily.  “I do believe it is necessary and the best thing for our people,” Estel replied.  “However, that does not mean that I will not listen to your counsel on the matter.  You know the people and may have knowledge that I do not... that we do not,” he glanced at Halhigal who nodded once.

            “Indeed,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.  Nestad stared out the window at the clear blue sky as he thought about moving all of the people.  It would be difficult at best and the thought of leaving his home after living here for close to ninety years appalled him.  Yet he tried to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on what truly was best for everyone and what needed to be done to ensure their survival.  After several long moments, his gaze shifted back to Aragorn.  “I think you’re right,” Nestad said slowly.  “It is not something that I want to do and it will be difficult and dangerous, but I do think it is probably the best thing for all of us.  I worry about the injured, but hopefully by the time we leave most will be able to be moved without causing further damage to themselves.”

            “I cannot see us leaving for three weeks at the earliest,” Halhigal pointed out.  “The Rangers won’t arrive any sooner than that… at least the furthest patrol will not.”

            “We’ll most likely be moving in the snow then,” Nestad said with a frown, shaking his head.

            “It seems rather early for the snow we have had,” Estel remarked.  “It is not even November yet.  Perhaps more will hold off until we are able to move.”

            “Perhaps,” Nestad agreed, though the doubtful tone of his voice said otherwise.

            “Do we tell the people now or wait until the men return?”

            “I think you’ll have to tell them now, my lord.  It will take time for them to prepare and we’ll want to be ready to leave as soon as the last of the men arrive.”

            Estel nodded and then stared down at the floor for a moment wishing that someone else could inform the people but he knew that it was his responsibility.  “When should I tell them?  Tonight at supper, or should we gather them together this afternoon?”

            Nestad and Halhigal exchanged glances and then Halhigal spoke.  “I think you can wait until tonight.  Most of them are busy now and will be unduly concerned if you interrupt them.  We have a lot to decide before we talk with them.” 

            Although relieved that he could delay telling the people for a time, Estel knew it was going to be difficult.  He knew the people would not be happy to have to leave their homes even if they understood that it was for the best.  Still, he knew it was the right thing to do and he would just have to convince them of that.  “How will we divide the people up between the villages?  I do not want to overburden any one village.”

            “Many of them have kin in the other villages and I assume they will want to go there,” Nestad replied.  “I have a daughter in both Forntaur and Dolomar.”  He smiled at Aragorn’s look of surprise.  “Yes, my daughter is Emeldir, the wife of Caladel.  I hear I have a wonderful grandson.”

            “Yes, he is. Caladithil was the first person I met in Dolomar.  Well, he and a boy named Balrant,” Estel shared a quick amused glance with Halhigal.  “Caladel was wounded by orcs recently, but he is fine and back out leading his patrol,” he said quickly at Nestad’s look of dismay.

            “His patrol was ambushed only a few miles from Dolomar,” Halhigal explained.

            “They’re on the increase again,” Nestad said with a weary sigh, rubbing his head.  He knew that the last ten years had only been a brief respite from the evil that plagued them, that the somewhat peaceful times would come to an end.  He had hoped it would last through the rest of his lifetime, if not beyond.  But even as he had hoped for it, Nestad knew it would not happen.

            Halhigal steered the conversation back to the task at hand.  They discussed how many families had kin in the other villages.  While Estel wanted to simply ask each family to go to a certain village so that they could split them up evenly, both Halhigal and Nestad cautioned him against doing that.  It was going to be hard enough on the people without them feeling they had no choices.  If one village seemed like it was going to be overburdened then they would step in and speak to those families and ask if some of them might reconsider.  If not, then and only then, would they intervene.

            They turned to discussing the actual move.  The village had five wagons of varying sizes that were mostly used when harvesting the crops.  Some were pulled by two horses and some by only one, but none of them were going to be big enough to carry everything that the people needed to take to their new homes.  Besides food, they were only going to be able to take clothing, bedding, and small personal items.  There were some horses in the village along with the cows, sheep, and numerous dogs.  Estel wondered if the wagons could actually travel the paths that they had taken on there way here, though perhaps his uncle knew other routes that had paths that the wagons could traverse.  With people having to walk, Estel figured it would take more than two weeks to travel back to Dolomar, meaning they wouldn’t arrive until sometime around the first of December.  He turned his attention back to the conversation. 

            The children, the oldest women, and the injured were the biggest concern, though most of the injured should be recovered enough in three weeks to make the journey with some assistance.  Rían and Culas were the ones that Nestad was the most worried about and he felt that they would probably need to ride in a wagon which would take up valuable space that was needed for carrying supplies, but it could not be helped.  Infants and toddlers would have to be carried or, perhaps, placed on top of the loaded wagons, while other children would just have to walk.  The pace should be slow enough that they could keep up.

            Estel wondered if there was some way they could make some type of simple carts for the horses to pull.  The smithy was intact and while he knew nothing about making wheels or putting an axle together, it did not look that difficult.  A cart would certainly be able to carry more than a packhorse and would ease what the people would have to carry and would, perhaps, allow them to bring at least some of their kitchen items.  Estel was growing more and more concerned about his people showing up in the other villages without all of their personal effects.  Perhaps he, Halbarad, and some of the other men could return and bring back more of the peoples’ things.  As Estel shared his thoughts with Halhigal and Nestad they agreed about the carts but were more uncertain about returning to the village.  They reminded him that this was, hopefully, just a temporary move; though all of them knew that in reality it was likely they would never return.  It was decided that Halhigal would speak with Mellonar about making wheels for the carts as he did much of the smithing work for the village.  Estel would start the rest of them cutting trees for the carts themselves.  They would be very simple, basically just a flat surface on top of wheels, but things could be lashed to them and it would be a tremendous help.

            When the three men had covered all that could be decided at this point, they parted, Nestad returning to the healing room and Estel and Halhigal heading outside.  The two of them stood on the porch, blinking in the early afternoon sunshine and pulling their cloaks on.  Halhigal looked at his nephew from the corner of his eye and saw his thoughtful, if somewhat nervous expression and he was surprised when he spoke.  “I knew when I returned that it would be difficult for a time; that I would need to learn the ways of the Dúnedain and people would have to learn to accept me and my ways which I knew would be different than my… father’s.”  Estel walked over and leaned against a pole, staring sightlessly down towards the ground.  He continued in a low voice as Halhigal came alongside him.  “But never did I imagine that anything like this might happen.  That I would be forced to do something that might turn my people against me before they even had a chance to know me.”  He sighed and glanced up at his uncle and gave him a wry smile.  “I do know it is the right thing to do.”

            “Yes, it is,” Halhigal responded firmly and clapped him on the back bracingly.  “The people will understand,” he paused, “eventually.  I imagine it will be hardest on those who have no kin in the other villages.”  A thoughtful look crossed his face and he glanced around, “Come,” he urged.  Halhigal hopped down from the porch and Estel followed him, looking at him expectantly, but his uncle did not speak until they were well away from the buildings and standing under the tree that Estel had sat under the day before.

            “I do understand something of what you are feeling, Aragorn, and I know it’s not easy.  Of course, I was much older than you when I suddenly became acting Chieftain of the Dúnedain and at least I grew up knowing the people and they knew me.”  Halhigal studied his nephew intently for a moment.  “Do you know what the first decision I had to make was?”  Estel gave him a confused look and shook his head. 

            Halhigal leaned back against the tree and his eyes took on a distant look before snapping back to Aragorn’s.  “My first decision was to send you away.  It was not something people agreed with… even my own kin.”

            “Grandmother?”

            “Yes… and your naneth,” Halhigal said quietly as his gaze rested on his nephew.  “Why are you surprised Aragorn?  Your naneth had just lost the man that she loved and now she was being sent away from everyone and everything she knew to a place where she knew no one and she knew nothing about.”  He shook his head and looked at the ground.  “And I sent her there,” his voice was full of regret.  “I knew it was the right thing to do.  But the people were angry.  They did not want you sent away like that, to live with the elves,” Halhigal gave Aragorn a brief smile.  “They felt that we could protect you ourselves.  But I was concerned, we had lost Arador and Arathorn within three years of each other and after speaking with Elladan and Elrohir, I knew you needed to be sent off for your own protection.  But it was not an easy decision to make and it was a long time before people accepted it.”

            “Some never have, have they?”

            Halhigal shook his head, “No, there are still a few who haven’t forgiven me, who were afraid you would become an elf.”  His eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked Aragorn up and down, “They weren’t too far wrong there,” he commented.

            Estel shrugged, he was becoming accustomed to the jests his uncle and Halbarad made about how elvish he appeared no matter what clothing he was wearing.  There was little he could do about it; it was part of who he was.  “Uncle,” he said slowly, “I will tell you that naneth long ago accepted that it was the right thing to do and that while I often sensed sorrow in her, I think that had to do with missing Arathorn.  When I learned of my heritage she spoke very highly of you.  I do not think she is angry with you.”

            Halhigal took a deep breath and smiled, “I’m glad to hear that.  It has always bothered me that that was between us.”

            “Why did you never send her letters?  I gave Grandmother a letter from naneth and she said it was the first thing she had ever gotten from her in the eighteen years I was gone.  Why?  My brothers often ride with you and the Rangers.”  Estel gave his uncle a puzzled look.

            “Letters can fall into the wrong hands and it was best to pretend that you had never even existed.  It was difficult for all of us, but…” Halhigal shrugged.  “I wondered if I made the right decision when things became a little more peaceful about ten years ago, but I still believe it was the right one.”

            “I know it was… but then, I cannot imagine being raised anywhere else,” Estel gave Halhigal a long, searching look.  “I think I understand what you are telling me, that I need to stand firm with the decision I have made even if it is difficult.”  There was something of a questioning tone in his voice.

            Halhigal nodded, “Yes, that’s why I’m telling you this.  Not that you didn’t know it already, I know that you do.  But you do need to be prepared to hear things that are difficult.  These people are hurting already and they may well question this decision quite vocally… and I imagine that your youth might come up and the fact that you were not raised among us… things of that nature.”  He shrugged, “Any number of things might be said, Aragorn, and you will have to stand firm, knowing that your decision is the right one.”  Halhigal watched as his nephew stared at the ground, his foot making little circles in the dirt and snow. 

            Estel finally looked up and gave Halhigal a wry smile as he asked, “I do not suppose you would like to tell them, would you?”  Halhigal chuckled, laying his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and steering him away from the tree and over towards the Hall.

            “No, I would not, but I will stand alongside you, as will Nestad.  Let’s get some lunch… such as it is.”  Estel nodded and the two of them walked the rest of the way in silence.

0-0-0

            “Tell me again why we are doing this,” Halbarad said in tone that others might have taken as irritation, but Estel knew he was simply trying to annoy him.

            “I thought it would be fun,” he grunted in reply as his axe bit into the tree once again.

            “I see.”  Halbarad swung at his own tree while nearby Eradan and Pador were trimming off the branches of the handful of trees they had already brought down. 

            The trees were not very large and it was only a few more strokes before Estel called for the others to stand back and he watched it fall.  Felling trees was not something he had much experience with, and he grimaced as it landed well away from where he wanted it.  Well, the horses would just have to drag it a little further than the others.  Estel looked around for another tree that would be about the right thickness for the simple carts they would be making.  They could split the logs if they had to, but it was much easier if they could take trees that were approximately the right size to begin with.

           “How many logs do we need?”

           “Mellonar plans to make eight carts and he thought it would take about eight logs per cart… so sixty-four logs.”

            “Sixty-four!”  Halbarad stopped and looked at his cousin in dismay.  “I don’t think there are that many trees around here of that size, Aragorn.”

            Estel’s lips twitched in amusement as he studied his cousin.  “Logs, not trees.  The carts will not be as long as a tree, Halbarad.  We will have to cut them to the right length.”  He shook his head and grinned, “You must be tired… sixty-four trees.”  He moved to a tree that appeared to be the right size, chuckling quietly and ignoring the glare Halbarad was sending his way.

            “It feels like we’ve already cut sixty-four trees,” Halbarad muttered as he returned to his own work.

0-0-0

            Estel waited until it appeared that most of the people had finished their supper before he arose from his place at his table to speak with them.  Outwardly he appeared calm, but those that knew him well could sense his underlying nervousness.  However, as the people noticed him standing there, they quieted, hushing their children at the same time, and his voice was calm and steady as he spoke.  “Before you return to your homes this evening, I wanted to share a few things with you.  After a lot of discussion with Halhigal and Nestad, I have decided that it will be best for everyone if we split up and go to the other villages for the winter.”  A low murmur broke out among the people, but Estel continued, his eyes scanning the room and meeting the gazes of different people and they quieted.  “I know it will not be easy, but I fear more the lack of food that we have here… especially for the young ones.  Many of you have kin in the other villages and I know they will take you in.  For those who do not, I trust that our people will take you in without question and I will write to the village leaders to make sure that you are provided for.  We do need to make sure that none of the villages are overburdened with additional people, however.  Mellonar is already working on some additional carts, but you will not be able to take anything beyond clothing, bedding, and small personal items.” 

           Estel had decided it was best to tell them everything at the beginning.  More and louder murmuring broke out and this time he held up his hand to quiet them.  “I am sorry,” he continued, “but I am not even sure if we will even be able to carry those things as well as the food that we need on the carts.  Some of it will have to be carried on our backs.”  Estel looked down for a brief moment and then he lifted his gaze once again and glanced around at the children.  “There are also the children, the injured, and several elderly people that may need to ride in the wagons.  This will not be easy,” he said firmly, “yet it needs to be done.  That is all I needed to tell you, but I would like to know what village you want to go to in the next couple of days.  You may speak with me, or Nestad, or Halhigal.”  Estel stepped back a pace, but he did not sit down assuming there would be questions… and there were.

            “Lord Aragorn?” A middle-aged woman hesitantly stood and Estel recognized her from seeing her in the healing room, though he did not know her name.  He nodded at her to continue.  “What about our husbands who are on patrol?  Don’t they have a say in where we are going?”

            “I trust that you know where your kin live and can make that decision yourself.  However, when your husband returns, if he is totally opposed to your decision, I will speak with you and your husband and perhaps we will change it.”  Estel gave the woman a small smile, “But keep in mind that I do not want to overburden any one of the other villages.”  She nodded and sat back down with a dubious expression, but said nothing further.

            Another similar question followed and Estel started to think that perhaps his uncle was wrong, that people would not oppose this move as he had supposed.  But then another woman stood and her voice was angry as she spoke.

            “I don’t want to move, it’s too dangerous.  What if there are more orcs?” 

            Other women joined in then, calling out their own fears and concerns.  “It’ll be too cold.”  “We won’t have enough food.”  “The other villages are too far away.”  “The children can’t walk that far.”  “How do we know if there will be homes there for us?”  Estel simply listened as they spoke, seeing the fear in their eyes.  He did, however, glance at Halhigal and Halbarad who both gave him small smiles of encouragement.  Estel thought they were finished when one last voice rang out from the back of the Hall.  “You don’t understand!  I can’t leave my home and my friends.”

           Estel gave her a long, considering look as he debated within himself how to respond.  Of course he knew how it felt to leave his home, and his friends and his family as well.  Finally, he decided that all of them deserved to know that he did understand that much of what they were feeling.  “Yes, I do understand what it is like to leave my home and my friends and even my naneth behind,” he responded.  “If you will remember, I just recently returned to our people from Imladris where I spent all of my childhood and youth.  My naneth is still there as are those I consider family.”  He paused briefly and his gaze swept the room and landed back on the woman who had spoken and she met his gaze and then looked down, her cheeks turning red.  Estel continued in a strong, firm voice that left no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were going to be leaving the village.

           “As for your other concerns, all I can say is that I will do the best that I can to see that you arrive safely in your new villages.  As I said earlier, I do know it will not be easy for any of you, but I wanted to tell you now so that you may begin preparing so that as soon as the men return we may leave.”  Estel watched them closely and while many of the women were upset and some were near tears, he felt that it was the best response he was likely to get.  “That is all I had to tell you,” he said in a gentler voice.  “Does anyone have any other questions?”  After a few minutes wait, Estel inclined his head slightly and returned to his seat next to Halbarad. 

            A low buzz of conversation filled the Hall as the women began speaking to one another; only the table where Estel was sitting with Halbarad, Halhigal, and Nestad was quiet.  After a moment, Halhigal leaned forward to see Estel past Halbarad.  “You did well, my lord.”

0-0-0

           “Aragorn,” Eradan whispered, his low voice breaking the stillness of the deepest part of the night.  “Someone is coming.”

           “I hear them,” Estel replied calmly, hearing the hoofbeats of approaching horses.  “Ready an arrow, Eradan.  We do not know who they are,” he said as he nocked his own arrow.  He knew it was mostly like the first of the patrols, though only a week had passed since Gilost had gone and they should not be here yet.  He rubbed his eyes tiredly and squinted into the darkness; the quarter moon was half hidden behind the clouds and provided little light.  They would have to be quite close to the gate before Estel would be able to clearly make them out.  “When they draw near, I want you to tell them to halt,” he directed Eradan and the young man nodded, biting his lip.  Estel patted his shoulder and moved further down the wall to have a better angle if he needed to use his bow.

            “Halt,” Eradan called out loudly as the riders trotted up towards the gate.  The six riders reined in sharply and a couple of the horses reared before settling.

            “Eradan!” Two voices called out at the same time from the men below him.

            “Adar! Laegrist!” he called back in excitement.  Eradan turned and Estel could just make out his grin in the darkness, “It’s the Rangers, Aragorn!”

            “So I gathered,” he replied dryly.  He quickly thought over the men in this group and what he would need to tell them.  Estel rubbed his eyes again, he was exhausted and was glad these men had returned and would be able to help.  Though obviously they had pushed themselves hard and would need to rest.

            “Open the gate, Eradan,” a much sterner voice came from below.

            “Hirgon,” Eradan muttered and Estel just barely caught the name.  “I’m coming,” Eradan called back down.

            The two of them carefully made their way down the steps and while Eradan headed to the gate, Estel went to the small sheltered fire they kept burning and lit two torches that they might have at least a bit of light and then he followed Eradan, putting the torches in holders near the gate.  As soon as the gate opened the Rangers rode inside, their faces grim and exhausted, a hint of fear in their eyes at what they might find.  They had discovered the trail of the orcs in the course of their normal patrol and had been tracking them east towards Taurnand.  Gilost had come across them and had sent them hurrying back to the village.  All they knew was that several of their homes had been destroyed and that Celeblas was dead.  Gilost had been either unwilling or unable to give them more information of their kin, saying he did not know the names of those who had died.  The Rangers had traveled hard, taking only short breaks to rest the horses and to sleep for a couple of hours themselves.

            First off his horse was Thalion and he grabbed Eradan and looked him over carefully, running his hands over his head and shoulders before embracing him tightly.  Pulling back he kept his hands on his son’s shoulders as he asked in a shaky voice, “Is… is…”

            “Naneth is fine, Adar,” Eradan interrupted him quickly and Thalion pulled him into another embrace and then Laegrist was there embracing his brother.  Estel watched the reunion with an inward smile, wishing all of the men could have such a joyous time with their families.  He turned to see that the other men were also quickly dismounting and some had started to move off down the lane towards their homes and he called to them.

            “Wait,” Estel’s voice was quiet, yet commanding and all of the men turned to him in surprise and some of them quickly frowned at this unknown man.  “I need to speak with you before you go.”

            “Why?  I want to see my family.”  Hirgon said rudely, looking Estel up and down wondering who this man was, though something Gilost had said was starting to trickle into his tired mind.

            Eradan drew in a quick breath, “You should not speak to Lord Aragorn that way, Hirgon!” he exclaimed.  Thalion tightened his grip on his son’s shoulder in warning, but Hirgon ignored the young man and kept his eyes on Aragorn.

            “Forgive me… my lord,” Hirgon said with a small bow, though his tone was far from apologetic.  “I didn’t know who you were.”

            Estel simply nodded, hoping his rudeness was caused by his exhaustion and fear for his family, but Eradan’s earlier comment made him wonder.  He pushed that aside and instead spoke to all the men.  “I asked you to wait because you do not all know where your families are.  I do not know what Gilost told you… or how you got here so fast, though we can discuss that later.”

            “Gilost told us little except that... Celeblas is dead and that several homes had been destroyed, my lord,” Beraid spoke up, watching his Chieftain anxiously.

            “Yes, I sent him before I even knew who had… died,” Estel pursed his lips and looked at the four men who had moved closer and were searching his face for information and he knew there was no easy way to break the news to them and so he simply told them.  He looked at the youngest man who had just spoken.  “Are you Beraid?”  The man nodded, swallowing hard as he shifted uneasily on his feet.  Estel moved closer and laid his hand on his shoulder, looking at him with compassion.  “I am sorry, Beraid, but your family’s home was one of the houses that collapsed from the fires.”  Beraid’s face paled and Thalion came up behind him and placed his hand on the man’s other shoulder.  Estel continued in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Beraid’s.  “Your naneth and your brother both died, Beraid.  I am sorry,” he repeated softly as Beraid’s eyes filled with tears.

            “My sisters?” he whispered.

            “They are well; they were burned but are recovering well.  They will be most glad to see you.”

            Beraid took a deep breath and wiped his hand across his eyes.  He could not imagine his life without his naneth or his young brother.  His sisters must be devastated, to have been here all alone.  And his father… what would his father do when he returned with his patrol.  “Where are they?”

            “There are staying at Thalion’s home.”

            “They are in my room, I moved my things into Laegrist’s room,” Eradan spoke up quietly and Beraid nodded and hurried off, his eyes full of tears once again.

            Estel looked between the last two men that he did not know, both of whom were looking at him with trepidation in their eyes and he sighed inwardly.  “Maldathor?” he asked softly and one of the men stepped forward, his eyes widening in alarm.  “I am sorry, Maldathor, but,” Estel cleared his throat and continued softly.  “Your son, Elgalad, also died.” 

           Maldathor simply stared at him and began shaking his head in denial, “No,” he whispered.  “Not Elgalad.  How can he die?  He’s only seven.”  He took a deep, shuddering breath and his eyes were full of grief and pain as he asked, “My wife? My daughter?”  Maldathor’s jaw and fists clenched in expectation of more bad news.

            “They are recovering; they were injured in the fire that took your house.  They were burned and, I think, your daughter injured her wrist.”

            Maldathor’s grief-stricken eyes filled with tears that he quickly blinked away.  “Where are they,” he whispered brokenly.

            Estel paused for a moment as he tried to remember and he turned to Eradan, “Where are they staying?”

            “At Celeblas’s house, my lord,” Eradan said quietly, his eyes glimmering in the torchlight and Estel nodded his thanks.

            As Maldathor started to hurry away, Estel turned to the other man, ignoring Hirgon who was impatiently shifting from side to side.  “Your family is well, Pendem.”  A smile lit up his features briefly and then he sobered again at the loss and pain of the others.  “Will you and Laegrist take care of the horses?”  The two men nodded and began grabbing the reins of the horses that had started to wander and began to lead them to the stables.  Estel looked at Eradan, “Keep watch until I return.”  He turned to the other two men, “Thalion, I believe that Laereth is in the healing room now, she and Nestad have been taking turns watching those that still need their care.  Hirgon, your wife and son are still there under Nestad’s care.”  A small cry escaped the man’s lips and then he quickly set his jaw and his face became a blank mask.  “Celin is also there, but only because we felt it best to keep her with her nana and twin.  Though,” Estel warned him as they began to quickly walk down the lane towards the healing room, “she was also quite badly burned.

            “Will they recover?”

            Estel ran his hand through his hair and then nodded slowly.  “I believe so,” he answered.  “I honestly was not sure four days ago.  I thought that Rían was going to die.”  Hirgon drew in a quick, sharp breath.  “But we have had some success with different treatments and she has responded well.  Culas too, though I think that Rían’s injuries were worse to begin with.”  Estel let out a long deep sigh and they walked in silence for a moment.

            “My lord?”

            Estel turned and looked at the man walking on his other side and, from what he had seen at the gate and what he could make out now; he decided that Thalion looked a lot like Eradan.

            “Yes?”

            “Has anyone else died?”

            “Yes, Lanthir,” he grimaced.  “Her mother and brother were also injured.”

            Thalion eyes welled with tears at the loss of another child.  He took a deep breath and asked another question.  “How fares the village otherwise?  My boy is exhausted, as are you it appears.”

            Estel gave him a grim look.  “No more than you and the rest of your men from the looks of it.  But, yes, we are and when you have rested for a day, I will be glad to have your help.  It sounds like Gilost did not tell you much, but besides those I have mentioned, there are others who were burned or have broken bones and two young men were shot during the battle itself.  Only Eradan and Pador among the young men are available to help… and we have needed them desperately just to try and keep up with the hunting.”  He frowned, they had not gotten any deer that day and they had to find something in the morning.  Perhaps some of the snares would have something in them, though rabbits did not feed many, it at least flavored the stew the women made.

            Thalion exchanged a concerned glance with Hirgon before he laid his hand on his Chieftain’s arm and pulled Estel from his thoughts.  “My lord, what about Mellonar?  Is he wounded as well?  And why is hunting such an urgent need, surely the food that is stored…” his face paled and he stopped walking as did Hirgon and then Estel.

            Estel scrubbed his face with his hand, “Mellonar is fine.  All of the food storage buildings were destroyed in the fires, Thalion, and we have been hard pressed to bring in enough food for everyone.”  He resumed walking.  “People had some food in their homes and we brought it all into the Hall and everyone eats together, but I want to save as much of the dry food for as long as I can.”  Estel paused, wondering if this would be the best time to tell them about the move and decided not to, they had enough to absorb.  He glanced at Thalion, “Eradan has done a wonderful job, you would be proud of him.”

            “I always have been, my lord.” Thalion replied absently.  He was appalled at the devastating loss of the food for the village and he wondered how they would ever be able to supply enough for the people to get them through the winter.  Now he understood why Aragorn had sent for them, though he would have wanted to come and check on his family anyway.  He followed the other two men up the steps, listening to them speak and noting Hirgon’s slightly brusque manner with their returned Chieftain.  Thalion sighed inwardly as he watched and listened. 

            “Hirgon, I do not know if Rían will awake.  She was asking for you earlier today so it would be all right if she does even though it is late.  I warn you that the burns on all of them look quite… terrible, but I assure that the scars will fade in time, though they will never completely disappear.”  Estel would not lie to him and while the athelas had helped more than anything else could have, it could not make the scars disappear.  Of the three of them, at least only Celin had a burn on her face and it was small.

            “You seem to know a lot about them,” Hirgon growled. “My lord,” he added.

            “I am also a healer,” Estel said, giving him a sharp glance.  “I was there… I have tended to all three of them at times, Hirgon.”  Reaching the door first, he eased it open quietly and cast a quick smile at Laereth who was sitting near the fire with her sewing.  She looked at him in surprise and then her eyes flew to Hirgon and then beyond to Thalion.  She stood with a soft cry and rushed towards him.  Thalion met her and embraced her gently before kissing her.  Estel watched them briefly before he slowly trailed behind Hirgon to where his family was sleeping.

            Hirgon’s steps slowed as he looked at his family lying so still in their beds, the parts that were visible above the blankets having numerous bandages and Culas and Rían also had splints on hand and leg, respectively.  He knelt down between the beds of Culas and Rían, his jaw set once again as he turned first to his wife.  Stroking her hair gently he softly whispered her name, but she did not stir and he spent some time just looking at her.  As Hirgon turned to his son, he caught a glimpse of Aragorn watching him and he scowled at him before looking down at Culas.

            Estel blinked in surprise at Hirgon’s look and then shook his head and sighed.  Evidently here was another man that had something against him or his family for some reason.  He started at the hand laid on his shoulder and he looked to see Nestad standing next to him. 

            “Ignore him for now, my lord,” the healer advised quietly.  “Hirgon has his reasons, though I know you will not be able to overlook his rudeness, but let it go for tonight at least.”

            “I can do that,” Estel gave Nestad a weary smile.  “I am going off watch soon and will not see him until tomorrow.”  He straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall.  “We will need to speak with all of them tomorrow, a couple of hours before lunch will be soon enough, I think.”  Nestad nodded and Estel turned to leave.

            “My lord,” Thalion called softly from across the room and Estel looked at him questioningly.  “Laereth and I would walk with you if you are returning to the gate.  She is eager to see Laegrist.”  Estel waited for them to join him and the three of them headed towards the gate, walking carefully in the darkness.  Estel watched the couple from the corner of his eye, amazed at the transformation in Laereth who was much more vocal with her husband than she had ever been in the healing room. 

            “Laereth tells me that you have appointed Nestad leader of the village,” Thalion suddenly turned to his Chieftain.

            “Yes, Halhigal and I spoke about it and he seemed best suited for it,” Estel responded somewhat cautiously.  He was uncertain whether or not Thalion would think Mellonar was the better man for the position.

            “He is a good man,” Thalion confirmed as they neared the gate.

            “I have found him to be so,” Estel replied, fighting off a yawn.  He glanced up along the wall of the stockade at Eradan and saw that Laegrist had joined him and the two were deep in conversation and he suppressed a smile as he wondered how much watching they were doing.  Thalion must have thought the same because he cleared his throat loudly and his sons jumped and looked down at them with guilty expressions that Estel could read in the flickering light of the still burning torches.  He beckoned them down.

            “Thank you, Laegrist,” Estel said and the man nodded once.  “Eradan, go ahead and go home with your family, our watch is nearly over.”  He shook off the young mans protests.  “I will be fine until Halhigal and Pador arrive.  Good-night.”

            They responded in kind and started towards their home, slowing only to pick up their packs.  Estel watched them go for a moment and then wearily headed back to the wall to finish out his watch wondering what the next day would bring.

~~~ 

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Chapter 10

            “I won’t do it!  I’m not moving to another village,” Hirgon spat out angrily as he glared at Aragorn and then briefly at Halhigal and Nestad.  They, along with Beraid, Maldathor, Pendem, Laegrist, and Thalion had gathered in the Hall so that Aragorn could explain the reasons for the upcoming move and to answer their questions.  All of them had heard about the upcoming move from their families and while Hirgon was the angriest none of them were happy about it, especially Beraid and Maldathor.  However, Estel thought that their unhappiness had as much to do with leaving behind the graves of those they had just buried as it did anything else.

            While taken aback by Hirgon’s anger and, what seemed like an attempt to intimidate him, Estel listened to the man for another minute wondering what exactly upset him so much.  His response was not like the women who did not want to move, Estel knew they had reacted mostly out of fear.  And, as the week had passed and Estel had spoken with each of the women individually they had come to accept that the reasons for the move had truly been made because of his concern for their well-being.  While he knew that the women still struggled with the thought of moving, Estel felt that at least they understood the reasons for it.

            Hirgon was simply angry… and at him, not really over the move.  Nestad had said Hirgon had his reasons, but Estel did not have time to deal with those now.  While Estel was willing to listen to concerns and answer questions, he would not let Hirgon continue and he knew he could not allow him to so openly and defiantly question his authority which would allow others to do the same in the future.  Estel glanced at Halhigal who gave him an almost imperceptible nod and he held up his hand to stop Hirgon’s flow of words.

            “Cease, Hirgon,” Estel commanded in a low voice filled with steel as he met Hirgon’s angry gaze steadily.  “I think you forget to whom you are speaking.”  Hirgon eyes widened briefly and then he looked away under Estel’s intent regard and his face flushed slightly.  Estel heard, but ignored, a few sharp indrawn breaths from some of the new men.  “Moving is not a suggestion, it is something we, the Dúnedain of this village, are doing.  While I am willing to answer your questions and to explain my reasons for doing this, I will not suffer your disrespect.”  He paused and waited until Hirgon looked up again, his eyes still angry.  “Do you understand, Hirgon?”

            “Yes… Lord Aragorn, I do.”  Hirgon swallowed hard, his eyes darting around to the other men, but none of them would meet his gaze.  He shifted uneasily on the bench, wondering if he had pushed too far this time.  But, he was not satisfied with the results and so, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, he said, “My…lord, I don’t want to leave Taurnand.  It’s been my home for a long time and I don’t want to live in some other village.”  Hirgon thought he succeeded in sounding respectful to this young man that looked so much like Arathorn.  But none of them missed the edge of sarcasm that tinged his voice when he said ‘my lord’.

            Estel also caught the tiny gleam in Hirgon’s eyes that was quickly masked and he knew that the man was baiting him, trying to take advantage of his youth perhaps and to push him into losing his temper.  He sighed inwardly and wished he knew exactly what it was that this man had against him.  He supposed it did not matter.  Narrowing his eyes, Estel just stared at Hirgon for a full minute and this time, Hirgon drew back away from the table as if he had been physically struck.  Finally, Estel spoke. 

            “Do you think you are different than anyone else in this village, Hirgon?  I do not think there is one person here who wants to leave.  But they understand the necessity of it and I am amazed that you do not.  I did not make this decision lightly, nor did I make it without counsel from those I trust,” Estel’s gaze flicked to Halhigal and Nestad.  “But the final decision was mine as it is my responsibility to see to the needs of my people… all of my people, Hirgon.” 

            Pausing, Estel gave the man a long, considering look.  “I suppose if you truly desire to stay here in Taurnand, I will allow it.” Estel ignored the expression of triumph that flashed across Hirgon’s face as he continued.  “However, I will only allow you to stay.  Rían and your children will leave with the rest of us.”  Estel’s stern look stopped Hirgon’s protests before he could get them out of his mouth.  “I will not stop you from being foolish with your own life, but I will not allow you to risk theirs.  Our people are too few already.”  Estel knew that he was likely adding to whatever caused the man to be angry with him in the first place, but he truly saw no way around it at this time.  “You let me know what you decide in the next few days, Hirgon.  Now, unless you actually have a question for me, I am going to let the other men have a chance to speak.”  Hirgon nodded mutely and though Estel could still read intense anger in his eyes, there was also a hint of fear and he was appalled by that, yet he felt that he had had little choice in this matter.  It was something he would have to speak with Halhigal about later.

            Estel turned his attention to the other five men and saw a wide range of emotions.  Shock and a mixture of relief and that same hint of fear were easy to read in the eyes of two of the youngest men – Beraid and Pendem, while Laegrist, who was also their age, did not show any sign of fear, just relief.  Maldathor seemed stunned, though there was a good measure of respect in his eyes as well.  Thalion, however, seemed pleased and almost amused by the whole thing and a small smile played about his lips as he studied his Chieftain, ignoring the quietly seething Hirgon.  He inclined his head in a respectful gesture before he spoke.

            “I have several questions, my lord Aragorn.  Since we won’t be leaving until the other patrol returns, how would you best like to use the men of my patrol?  Several of them are quite good at hunting and scouting, while others,” he deliberately did not look at Hirgon and his eyes twinkled as he added, “might be particularly good at standing watch.”  Thalion had put up with and dealt with Hirgon and his somewhat intimidating ways for years, but never had the man been so bold or tried it so openly.  And never had anyone put Hirgon in his place as Aragorn had just done.  Though, Thalion had tried to do so many times.  That Hirgon was so gentle with his wife and children always amazed him, but then Thalion supposed that everyone had a soft spot somewhere.  “Do you want to set a schedule for us, my lord?  Or, just assign us as you have need?”

            Studying Thalion as he spoke, Estel decided that Eradan took after his adar in more than just his appearance; that he evidently got his sense of humor from him as well.  Which, he was grateful for at this particular time.  “I think,” he began and then he stopped and looked at Halhigal and Nestad.  He wanted their advice, not so much because he thought it would be different than his own, but to show the others that they were all working together.  He thought it might even be why Thalion had brought it up, the man knew very well that they would set some type of schedule.  “What do you think, Nestad, Uncle?”

            “I’d set a schedule for watches and hunting, my lord,” Halhigal replied, “but I’d also send out a couple of men to scout a little further away now that we have them.”  Estel nodded and turned his gaze to Nestad.

            “I agree,” the healer and village leader shrugged.  “But I want to be added to the schedule as well.”  Nestad paused and added in a quieter voice than was usual for him, “I know we are all needed, my lord.”

            Estel nodded after a moments thought.  “But only for some of the night watches, Nestad.  I do not want you outside the village in case you are needed by those who are injured.”

            “If you are in the village I could leave, my lord,” he pointed out.  Nestad was careful in the way he spoke, that he not appear disrespectful in front of the other men even though he knew Aragorn would know he was not.  “You are a better healer than I am, you saved their…”

            Estel quickly interrupted him.  “Even if I am in the village, I may not be available, Nestad.  I would prefer that you treat those who are injured unless you truly have need of me.”  He did not want to further discuss anything related to Hirgon or his family; the man would learn what he had done at some other time.

            “Yes, my lord,” Nestad replied, realizing why he had been stopped and understanding the reasons behind it. 

            “Uncle Halhigal, Nestad, and I will stay and work on the schedule then, but I will tell you that I do not expect any of you to do anything except spend time with your families until tomorrow.”  Estel was surprised when Pendem spoke up; he had seemed as quiet as his younger brother, Pador.

            “I can help now, my lord, truly I’m not that tired.”

            “Thank you, Pendem, but your eyes tell me otherwise.  No, take the day and I will send you out hunting in the morning.  We need the meat.”

            “If you’ve been depending on Eradan to bring it in, I’m not surprised,” Laegrist snorted with a grin.

            A few chuckles broke out and Estel felt the last of the tension drain away.  “He seems to always bring down a bigger deer than I do, Laegrist,” he replied.  “He and Halbarad both.”  He looked at the men who had not said a word yet.  “Do you have questions for me?”  There was a general shaking of heads and murmurs of ‘no, my lord,’ and Estel sighed inwardly hoping they truly did not have questions and that it was not that they were afraid to ask him.  “Come and see me if you do,” he said, “I am willing to discuss any of my decisions with anyone.”  He looked each of them in the eye - even Hirgon, though the man would barely look at him.  Estel changed the subject to more personal matters.  “Beraid, how do your sisters fare?  How do you fare?”

            Beraid gave him a startled look and then stared down at the table, shocked at the question.  “I’m doing… all right, my lord… it’s strange not to have Naneth and Rothin here… my home to be gone.”  He shook his head and glanced up at Aragorn and then away again, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.  “My sisters are glad to have me home, but it’s difficult for them.”  Beraid stopped, not knowing what else to say.

            “We’ll all miss them, Beraid,” Thalion said quietly.  His gaze shifted to Maldathor, “And your son, Maldathor.”  The man nodded, but said nothing.

            “How does your wife fare, Maldathor? And you, yourself?” Estel asked.

            “It’s hard, my lord,” he whispered, staring down at the table.

            Estel simply nodded, his heart aching for both Maldathor and Beraid and their families.  Steeling his resolve he turned to Hirgon.  “Were you able to speak with Rían and your children this morning, Hirgon?  They were resting peacefully when I checked on them early this morning.”

            Surprise and then worry replaced the anger in his eyes as Hirgon spoke of his family.  “I…I did speak with them for a time this morning.  Rían only awoke for a brief period, but it was enough for us to talk and for her to know I was here.  Culas and Celin were still awake when I left to come here… I’m… I’m not sure how long Celin will be willing to stay in that bed.”  Cautious chuckles followed that statement, the men of the village knew the twins quite well – by the stories their families told if nothing else.

            “I would like to see her up and running around,” Estel commented as he remembered his first sight of her.  He was looking down and missed the surprised look Hirgon shot him.  “Well, if no one has any other questions, you may go.  I will send Eradan or Pador to tell you what I would like you to do tomorrow.  The men drifted away until only Estel, Halhigal, and Nestad were left and Estel turned to his uncle with his eyebrows raised.  “Well, Uncle?  What does Hirgon have against me?  Or, against my family?  I do not suppose it is truly against me as I just met him last night.”

            Halhigal looked at Nestad for a moment and then back at his nephew.

            “Nestad told me he already knows,” Estel said with a small shrug.

            “It doesn’t surprise me that Nestad knows, he reads people and situations quite well and people seem to confide in him for some reason,” Halhigal said with a knowing smile.  Nestad gave him a bland look in return.  Halhigal drummed his fingers on the table as he pondered how to tell Aragorn of the rift between Hirgon and their family.  “Actually, Aragorn, I’m surprised that Hirgon is taking his anger out on you when it was Arathorn that he was so furious with.  I would have thought that his death would have put an end to it and he does have his own family now.”  Halhigal sighed and thought back twenty some years to when Arathorn was courting Gilraen.  “Hirgon’s family lived in Dolomar…”

            “Is he related to Sírdhim?” Estel interrupted with a quick grin and Halhigal laughed and shook his head before continuing.  Nestad merely looked confused.

            “It doesn’t matter, Nestad.” Halhigal said, “I’ll tell you some other time.  Anyway, Hirgon grew up in Dolomar and he’s in his late forties now, I think, three or four years older than Gilraen.  Anyway, someone was teasing him about a pretty girl or something…”

            “He loved Naneth,” Estel whispered, interrupting once again as understanding dawned.

            “Yes, he did, and I think he had since he was quite young, though I don’t think Gilraen had ever had anything to do with him.  She was quite young at the time, if you’ll recall.”

            “Yes, I know,” Estel gave him a puzzled look.  “But, still why was… is he so angry?  If Naneth didn’t love him, then he should have accepted that and… and, well let her go without getting angry at Arathorn and now me.”

            Halhigal and Nestad exchanged quick glances before Halhigal slowly responded, first reminding himself how young Aragorn was, it would be years before he began looking for a wife.  “Yes, he should have, but Hirgon had loved Gilraen for years and then Arathorn suddenly became interested in her and she quickly returned his love and I think Hirgon was devastated.  He had always had something of a temper, though he mostly kept it in check and the men even teased him about it at times.  But when this happened,” Halhigal paused for a moment considering, “he spoke words to Arathorn that should never be spoken to any man, let alone the Chieftain’s heir.  He did apologize later, but he left Dolomar shortly afterwards and moved here.”

            “Perhaps that is why he is so set against moving,” Nestad remarked.  “He does not want to move again to a new place.”

            Estel shook his head.  “I do not think so.  I watched him closely, he was angry at me, it had nothing to do with the move itself.”  He sighed and stood, slowly walking back and forth as he thought.  While he could understand the bitter disappointment Hirgon must have felt at the loss of the one he loved… Estel knew he would feel the same if Arwen were to marry another… but he could not allow Hirgon to undermine his authority in any manner.  He would not allow anyone to speak to him in the manner that Hirgon had done today… well, perhaps those that he was closest to and trusted, but then only in private.  Estel knew that as young as he was, he could ill afford to have people openly questioning him and his decisions.  He turned back to Halhigal with a question.  “Do you have any suggestions? 

            “On how to handle him?  No, I don’t, though I thought you did well enough today, Aragorn.  I think you might just have to do that with him on occasion until he realizes that you will not allow him to intimidate you.”  Halhigal sighed.  “I would have thought that having his own wife and children would have given him peace by now.  Where is he moving to?”

            Estel shrugged, “I do not know, Rían has not been in any condition to make a decision… in fact I would be surprised if she even knows we are leaving.  She has not been awake long and I doubt that Nestad would choose to trouble her with such things while she is recovering.”  He glanced at Nestad who shook his head.  “I doubt he will be returning to Dolomar, however,” he said with a grim smile.

            “Perhaps they should though,” Nestad said slowly and then continued at their surprised looks.  “I know, Lord Aragorn that it would not be comfortable for you to have him around, but I think that it might be better to have him close than to have him in some other village possibly stirring up trouble.”

            “Do you think he would really do that?” Estel asked skeptically.

            “He might,” Halhigal said after a moments thought.  “Especially now,” he gave his nephew a rueful smile and Estel grimaced.  “And the people in the other villages do not know you yet.”

            Estel ran his hand through his hair and sat back down.  “I could not let him speak to me that way… could I?” he asked, looking at his uncle with uncertainty in his eyes.

            “No, you could not.”  Halhigal was adamant and Nestad nodded his agreement.

            “He will not be in the village that long; he would be going back out on patrol…” Estel paused and considered his words and the two men were quiet and let him think.  Having Hirgon in Dolomar was not something he wanted, but sending him off to another village where he might cause difficulties just to make it easier for himself did not seem like the right thing to do.  If he let Hirgon go elsewhere, it would probably only make it more difficult in the long run, eventually they would have to work this out in some way.  Estel remembered Elrohir’s comment to him that there were always men that questioned those in authority and that he needed to learn how to deal with them, well here was his chance.  He looked up at Halhigal and Nestad.

            “How do we get them to Dolomar?  He will not want to return there.”

            “Leave that to me, my lord,” Nestad said with a sly smile.  “Rían and Culas will need my care for quite some time yet, and as I find that I would rather go and stay with my daughter in Dolomar instead of the one in Forntaur, they will just have to go with me.”

            Estel grinned in return, glad that he had found a relatively simple solution to that problem and also that Nestad would be living in Dolomar.  “Thank you, that will work and I will allow you to inform him as well.”  He turned to his uncle, “Do you know who else has decided to go to Dolomar?  I have been out of the village a lot the last couple of days and no one has spoken with me about their decision.”

            Halhigal nodded, “Thalion, Maldathor, and Mellonar so far.  With them and their families and with Hirgon’s family and Nestad, that would be fourteen people.  I think that Beraid and his sisters will come, but they’ll have to wait until their father returns to make that decision.  That would give us eighteen.”

            “That is about the right number,” Estel commented.  “Are the other villages about the same?”

            “It’s very close, I don’t think we need to worry about any village having too many people.”

            “Do you have enough room for all of these people?”  Nestad asked.  “I will stay with my daughter, but what about the others?”

            “My house is empty,” Estel said, glancing at his uncle who nodded.  “One or even two families could stay there since the men will be going back on patrol.”

            Nestad snorted, “I don’t think you should give it to Hirgon’s family.”  Estel and Halhigal chuckled.

            “There is another small, empty house that might work for Hirgon’s family.  It’s close to the smithy which is why no one lives there, but it would do for now.  The rest we will deal with when we get there, some may have to be taken in by other families.”  Halhigal said with a thoughtful look as he considered the possibilities of placing the people.  He finally shrugged, “We have time to deal with that on the way home.”  The thought of home and Nimrie lit his face up briefly.

            “Well, this can wait until later.  If we set the schedule for the men for the next few days, then I will go find Halbarad and go hunting and leave you two in charge here.”  Estel bent his head over the parchment he had and, grabbing a charcoal stick, began sketching out a list of things for the schedule.  Halhigal and Nestad exchanged glances and simply nodded without saying a word.  The chance of actually finding any game at this time of day was small, but they knew that he needed some time away from the village and they could give him that.

0-0-0

            Halbarad looked up from where he was cutting trees into appropriate lengths for the carts Mellonar was making just as Aragorn came striding out the gate.  The teasing comment he was about to make died on his lips at the somber look on his cousin’s face and he lowered his axe and leaned on it as he watched him approach.  Aragorn almost always had a serious, reserved demeanor, especially around the older men.  But Halbarad had gotten to know another side of Aragorn, one that was more light-hearted and Halbarad often thought it was probably the way he was with his brothers and at his home in Imladris.  He had seen that side of Aragorn a little more often the past week as they worked with the young men.  But Halbarad had never seen the look he was wearing now and he wondered what had happened.

            “Do you want to go hunting with me?” Estel asked abruptly and without a word of greeting.

            Halbarad blinked in surprise, both at the tone and at the thought of going hunting in the middle of the day.  But he just replied to the question without any comment.  “Sure, anything would be better than chopping wood, Aragorn.  Let me get my things.”  He drove his axe into a log before moving to where he had left his weapons and cloak.  As he belted on his sword and put on his cloak, Halbarad kept an eye on his cousin who stood staring blankly into the woods with a frown on his face and he quickly threw his quiver and bow over his shoulder and walked back to Aragorn.  “I’m ready,” he said quietly.

            Estel glanced at him then and gave him a faint smile, “Good,” and set off at a brisk pace into the woods.  Halbarad followed close behind with a puzzled frown darkening his features.  They had been walking for close to an hour when Halbarad had had enough.

            “Aragorn,” he growled.  “Where are we going and what is the matter with you?  We are obviously not hunting.”  Aragorn swung around and just looked at Halbarad for a moment with a somewhat sheepish expression.

            “I am sorry, Halbarad.”  He ran his hand through his hair and glanced around.  “Have you eaten lunch?”  Halbarad shook his head mutely, it was only a little past noon and he had had no time to grab any of the simple fare they were serving.  “We can share what I brought,” Estel said, laying his hand on Halbarad’s shoulder and moving toward a fallen log and sinking down on it with a weary sigh. 

            Halbarad sat beside him and eyed his cousin with concern as he dug into a pouch and brought out a small chunk of bread.  Aragorn tore it in half and handed him a piece, he also gave him a strip of smoked venison, and pulling out an apple, carefully cut it in half with his belt knife and handed him his half.  It did not take long for them to consume the food and as Halbarad put his cork back in his waterskin, he spoke again.  “You didn’t answer my question, Aragorn.  What is the matter?  What happened at the meeting?”

            “Hirgon… do you know who he is?”

            “I know he’s one of the Rangers that returned last night.”

            “Well, it turns out that…” Estel paused, wondering how much he should tell Halbarad and then he shrugged, deciding that if Nestad knew than it was all right for Halbarad to know.  Besides, he needed Halbarad to know, especially as Hirgon was going to be traveling with them.  Estel doubted that the man would be much different on the journey than he had been today.  It was possible that he would be even worse.  “Evidently,” he continued slowly, “this Hirgon was in love with my naneth at one time…” Halbarad looked startled and then motioned for him to continue.  “Naneth did not love him and Hirgon got angry at Arathorn… my father and moved from Dolomar to here many years ago.  He still is angry at my family,” Estel gave Halbarad a speculative look.  “I am not sure if that includes you and Uncle Halhigal or not.  At the meeting he was… disrespectful and tried his best to intimidate me.”

            “But it did not work, did it?”

            Estel snorted, “No, it did not.  I cannot allow anyone to speak to me the way he did.  But,” he paused and once again ran his hands through his hair.  “I am not sure that what I did was much better, Halbarad,” he admitted softly.

            “Why?  What did you do?  I can’t imagine that you would be disrespectful to anyone.”

            “I do not think… he does not want to move, well… that is what he said.  But I know he was really just angry at me and I think because I am young he was trying to see if he could make me lose my temper.  I finally told him to stop, that he could not speak to me that way and then he repeated himself only changing the words a little and I could see in his eyes what he was doing.  And this is where I was wrong, I think,” Estel hesitated for a long moment, remembering the fear in Hirgon’s eyes.  “I told him that he could stay here, but that his wife and children were going with us, that he could not endanger their lives even if he wanted to endanger his own.” 

            Halbarad studied Aragorn for a moment before he spoke.  “And you think that is wrong?  To protect his wife and children?” he asked quietly, not understanding what was upsetting his cousin.

            Estel shook his head vehemently.  “No, no, of course I should protect them.”  He jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth in front of Halbarad who watched him curiously.  “It was the way I did it, Halbarad.  He was trying to intimidate me and then I did the same thing back… I threatened to take those he loved away from him,” he whispered with a frown.  “He only backed down out of fear of what I could do.  I do not want to rule people out of fear, Halbarad.  There must have been another way… something else I could have done… a way to reason with him.”

            “And have you thought of anything in the last hour as we walked?” Halbarad asked mildly.  At least he now understood what was bothering Aragorn, though he could not readily think of anything he might have done differently, but neither had he been in the room to see what had happened.  “What did my adar say?  Did you ask him?”

            “Not directly,” Estel replied, frowning.  “But he and Nestad both agreed that I could not let him speak to me the way he did.  They said nothing about how I handled that part of it.”  He let out a weary sigh.

            “Adar would have told you if you should have done something different, Aragorn.  You know that he would have.”  His cousin gave a hesitant nod.  “And, from what I have observed of you, you do not rule out of fear or intimidation.”  Halbarad paused and thought for a moment, “When you spoke with the women and told them about the move, almost all of them were fearful, but it wasn’t of you.  You told them what had to be done and then you spoke to them in a way to reassure them and to help them understand.  Some of them said things that might have been disrespectful, did they not?”

            Estel shrugged, “I suppose some things they said could be taken that way, but I knew they were not really being disrespectful, they were afraid of leaving and they were afraid for their children and I knew that.”

            “So it was different than what Hirgon was doing and you needed to treat him differently than you did the women.  It sounds like you handled it just right.”  Halbarad shook his head slightly.  “Do not doubt yourself, Aragorn, you’re a good leader and the men respect you.  Well, most of the time,” he grinned.  “Except when you take your cousin out into the middle of the woods saying we’re going hunting and then you don’t even bring enough food to feed him lunch!”

            Slowly an answering grin spread across Estel’s face and his tense shoulders relaxed.  He glanced back the way they had come, “I suppose we could go back so you can eat… and there were a lot of logs that still needed to be cut to length.”  His eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked back at Halbarad who was shaking his head.  “Thank you, Halbarad,” he said simply.

            Halbarad heard, but ignored his thanks.  “I think the logs can wait, Cousin.  Perhaps we might be able to find some kind of game if we look really hard.”  He made it sound like a question and Estel nodded.

            “The village does need the meat,” he replied as he pulled his bow off his shoulder and strung it without thinking.  Laughing softly, Halbarad did the same.

0-0-0

            The addition of the six Rangers made things much easier for the men who had been doing all the work in Taurnand.  They were able to bring in more meat and, with the additional men, they were able to get a full nights sleep every couple of days.  The work on the carts was quickly completed as Maldathor was able to help Mellonar with the wheels and axles and the rest of the men quickly finished cutting the trees into the proper lengths.  The women smoked as much of the venison and other meat that was brought in as they could in preparation for the upcoming journey.  As much as could be packed and prepared ahead of time was completed, all they could do was wait for the last patrol to arrive. 

            The healing room had been emptied of patients except for Rían and Culas.  Though Nestad continued to check up on several of his former patients daily, they did not need his constant care and so they were sent home for their families to care for them.  As the approached the end of the third week since the attack, several of the other young men and older boys began helping to stand watch and do some of the easier, less strenuous work around the village, further relieving the other men to do more hunting and allowing them to go further afield in their hunt for game.

            It continued to snow occasionally, but there were no large accumulations and most of the snow melted within a day or two after falling.  Estel was still hopeful that they might make it to the villages without encountering any large storms.  He wrote letters to each of the village leaders, explaining why he was sending the people to their village.  He was not really worried that the people in the other villages would not help them, but he did want to make it clear that these people were being sent because he had told them to go.  Estel appointed Pador’s father to lead the group headed to Forntaur, but the men he intended to lead the other two groups, on the advice of Nestad and Halhigal, were in the patrol that had not yet returned.

            Estel did not deliberately avoid Hirgon during the time they waited for the patrol, but he noticed that Hirgon went out of his way to avoid him.  The man had been furious when Nestad informed him that Rían and Culas would require additional care that made it necessary for them to move back to Dolomar.  He had complained loudly and bitterly for a time until Nestad put him in his place by pointing out that he seemed more concerned about where he was going to live than he was about the health of his wife and son.  That had settled Hirgon down and if he did anymore complaining, those complaints never reached Estel’s ears.

            As their wait stretched into the fourth week, Estel grew increasingly concerned that the patrol had not returned even though he knew that it might have taken Gilost several days to find the patrol once he even reached their assigned area.  But he was anxious nonetheless.  He wanted to leave as quickly as possible to try and get the people to their new homes before heavy snow fell.  But, more importantly, he was concerned about Gilost.  Estel knew it had been a risk sending him out alone and the longer he was gone the more likely it was that he had run into some type of danger.  Still, there was nothing they could do but wait.  He had spoken with Halhigal and Nestad and they had decided that if the patrol did not return by the start of the fifth week – the last week of November - then it would be too late to leave and they would just have to somehow make it through the winter on their own.

            But the patrol did finally appear.  One morning not long after dawn the six Rangers of the patrol and Gilost came trotting up to the gate after riding through the night on the last leg of their journey home.  Estel was out hunting with Halbarad, Eradan, Beraid, Laegrist, and Maldathor when they returned and did not see them until a little later in the morning.  He was spared having to tell this group of men which of their loved ones had died, that task fell to Halhigal this time, a fact for which Estel was immensely grateful.  Halhigal also informed them of their decision to leave the village and sent them off to be with their families for a time, telling them that they could meet and speak with their Chieftain in the afternoon. 

            Halhigal and Nestad were speaking with Gilost when Estel and his men rode through the village gate.  Estel’s eyes shone with relief when he saw Gilost standing there.  Hearing Beraid’s sharp indrawn breath at the sight of Gilost, Estel turned to him, his voice full of compassion as he spoke.  “Go and find your father and sisters, Beraid.  We will take care of your horse.”  Beraid quickly slid from his saddle and hurried off to find and comfort his father who had just learned of the death of his wife and youngest son.  Estel dismounted and found Eradan at his side to take his own horse and he gave him a small nod of thanks before striding quickly over to speak with Gilost.

            “Gilost!” Estel looked him up and down with a practiced eye, noting the filthy clothing, his sunken, dark-rimmed eyes, and his pale, exhausted countenance.  But he was alive and safe and right now that was all that mattered to Estel as he reached out and grasped Gilost’s forearm.

            “It’s good to see you again, Lord Aragorn,” Gilost said with a weary smile as he eagerly returned his lord’s arm clasp by putting his other hand on top of Aragorn’s.

            “Where did you find them?  How far did you have to go?”  Estel cast a sidelong glance at Halbarad as he joined them and then glanced over his shoulder as the rest of the men led the horses away.  Halbarad just shrugged.

            Gilost nodded at Halbarad before answering the question.  “Once I reached their patrol area, it took me four days to find them, my lord,” he replied, frowning down at the ground.

            “You got back here quickly then,” Estel remarked, adding up the days in his head.

            Gilost nodded again, “They were, of course, anxious to return, my lord, and we traveled with very few stops.  Only enough time to rest the horses and get a little rest ourselves and we didn’t run into any trouble on the way back.”

            “And on the way there?”

            “None, my lord, I didn’t see any signs of orcs as I traveled.”  Gilost paused, frowning, “Though I was traveling rather swiftly and I don’t know if I would have seen much sign unless I had really been looking for it.”

            “If there had been orcs around they would have found you,” Halhigal pointed out grimly.

            “You’re right,” Gilost grimaced, fighting back a yawn.  He looked at Aragorn, “Halhigal said that we’re moving the villagers away… some of them are coming with us back home.”  His voice was faintly questioning, it wasn’t that he didn’t really believe Halhigal, but the idea of moving the people was overwhelming to him.

            Estel nodded, “Yes and we are leaving the day after tomorrow.  You need to rest.”  He turned his gaze to Nestad who had been listening quietly.  “Do you mind if he sleeps on one of the beds in the healing room?  I would not have him sleep on the hard floor at Gelmir’s house if there is somewhere else he might rest.”  Estel laid his hand on Gilost’s shoulder to stop his protests.  “You need to sleep well, Gilost, we have a lot of traveling to do in the next few weeks.”  He paused and gave Gilost an intent look, “Thank you for going and getting the patrols, I do appreciate it.”

            “I only did what any other Ranger would have done, my lord,” Gilost protested, as he looked away slightly embarrassed.

            “Yes, I know, but I still thank you.  I know it was a very large personal risk to you and sleeping on a real bed is not much, but it is all I have to offer.”  Estel smiled.

            Nestad glanced between the two men and then laughed quietly, “Well, I suppose that I shall have to let him have a bed now, my lord.  Perhaps I might even find him a hot meal as well.  Come along, Gilost.”  He beckoned the weary Ranger to follow him and Gilost gave Aragorn, Halbarad, and Halhigal a puzzled glance, but they just motioned for him to follow the healer.

            Estel turned to Halhigal and Halbarad.  “We will pack the carts and wagons tomorrow and give Gilost and the returned Rangers and their horses a day to rest.  We leave at dawn the following day.”

~~~

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. I will answer everyone by email if I have an address.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

~~~~~~

Chapter 11

            Estel stood holding the reins of his horse as he watched the last of the three parties of villagers disappearing into the woods.  It was an hour after dawn and while there had been some confusion sorting out wagons, carts, horses, cows, sheep, and children, it had actually gone fairly smoothly and now the only group left was the one he was leading back to Dolomar.  He was looking forward to being back in that village and he could only hope they would make it safely and without delays.  Estel turned at the sound of an approaching horse.

            “The villagers are ready, my lord,” Thalion reported.

            With a brisk nod, Estel turned and let his gaze sweep over the people assembled and waiting to leave.  They had a wagon and one cart which were piled high with food and possessions.  Another, smaller wagon had been fitted out with a comfortable place for Rían to ride sitting up and where Culas could ride as he needed, though Nestad felt that the boy would be able to walk a good part of the day.  Celin was to walk or trade off in the wagon with Culas if she became too weary.  The rest of the small wagon carried more of their possessions. 

           Estel had placed Eradan in charge of the cows and sheep.  He knew the young man was disappointed, though Eradan tried to hide it.  But he was the youngest and with all of the other men, Estel did not need him to scout and patrol as he had when there was no one else available.  There were thirteen men in their company and all of them, with the exception of Halbarad and Eradan, were very experienced Rangers.  He had briefly considered placing Hirgon in charge of the animals, but it had only been a passing thought on a day when the man had been particularly aggravating.  Estel had asked the three girls in their company, aged fourteen, sixteen, and seventeen, to help Eradan with the cows and sheep and the four of them, along with a couple of the dogs should be enough to keep the animals under control and moving.  If not, then he would have to ask one of the other men to help, probably Halbarad as he was the youngest of the Rangers.  He just hoped it would not become necessary.

           Besides the injured Rían, there were only three other grown women in their party – Laereth, and the wives of Maldathor and Mellonar.  Laereth and one of the other women drove the wagons, while the third woman led the horse pulling the cart.  The pace of the party would be slowed by those who had to walk and the animals, but it could not be helped.  The animals were necessary for the survival of the families and they simply did not have enough horses for everyone to ride.  Estel hoped to make the journey in less than two weeks, but he knew it might take longer.

            Several hours before, Estel had sent Halhigal and Maldathor out to scout the route they were taking.  He wanted to make sure that the trail was clear of not only orcs but also of fallen trees or other things that might delay them.  The rest of the men he assigned to various points around the small company, some to ride with them and some to scout and ride at a short distance to each side and behind them.  He, himself was to ride at the head of their small company and after one last glance at his people, Estel swung up into the saddle. 

           Estel was starting to urge his horse ahead when a thought struck him and he pulled his horse around.  The eyes of the women expressed the grief that they felt at leaving their home, and for one of them, the grave of her recently buried son.  He could not clearly read the girls expressions from where he sat his horse, but he imagined that the three of them would be the same, especially as each of the three girls had lost a brother and the oldest two had lost their naneth as well.  Glancing at the Rangers that remained with them, Estel saw that their eyes mostly mirrored the women’s, though he also saw regret and anger that they had not been able to stop this from happening.  Searching for words and knowing there was nothing that could take away the sting of this loss; he spoke quietly yet with conviction. 

           “There is hope that you will be able to return in the future, but for now your new home awaits you in Dolomar and we have many miles to travel this day.”  His gaze flicked from person to person, lingering on the twins and he gave them a gentle smile.  “Do not use up all of your energy in the first hour, young ones; it will be a long day.”  They just grinned and as Estel turned his horse back to the front his gaze fell on Hirgon who frowned and looked away.  The man did not like it when Estel spoke to either of his children, though he had never said anything to him about it.  Hirgon was content to show his displeasure with brief scowls, though one time Estel thought he looked thoroughly puzzled at the interest he was showing in the twins.  But both children knew Estel quite well from the time he had spent tending to their injuries and he had no intention of ignoring them.

           Pulling his horse alongside Thalion’s, Estel led the company at a walk, glancing back several times to make sure that the wagons, the cart, and the animals were following without trouble.  Satisfied that all was going well, he fixed his gaze forward and led them on hoping to make ten to twelve miles this first day.  But, as with many such things, the day did not go quite as he had planned.

            An hour before noon Estel was still riding alongside Thalion and speaking with him about how he ran his patrol and how things might work now that they would be living in Dolomar.  Estel and Halhigal had spent many hours in the last few weeks discussing how to re-arrange all of the patrols with the move of the villagers from Taurnand to the other villages.  It would take time to make the changes, but it would have to be done when winter was over and before the men returned to their spring patrols.  They were deep in discussion when loud shouts from behind brought them to an abrupt halt and they quickly turned their horses, pulling their swords as they did so.  Exchanging dismayed, yet amused glances, they re-sheathed their blades and sighed as they watched more than a dozen of the sheep bolting off into the woods on either side of the trail with the girls chasing after them.

            “I knew this was not going to be easy,” Estel remarked with a sidelong glance at Thalion.  The Ranger simply shook his head and urged his horse back towards the animals and Estel followed him. 

            “Do you know much about sheep, Aragorn?” Halbarad inquired with a grin as Estel neared his cousin where he sat on his horse watching Eradan and one girl trying to hold back the rest of the sheep while the cows had begun grazing.  Two of the dogs had gone after the sheep and two were helping Eradan and the girl.

            Estel paused and looked at the gleam of amusement in his cousin’s eyes.  “Not much, Halbarad,” he admitted with a small shrug.  “I did not spend much time with the flocks and herds in Imladris.  However, I have a feeling that you do.  Come along,” he ordered with a smile tugging at his lips.  “You, too, Nestad, Hirgon,” he said, glancing over at the men briefly.  “I have feeling it might take all of us to round them up.”

            “Do you want our help as well, my lord?” Laereth asked quietly, indicating herself and the two other uninjured women of the company.

            Estel shook his head after glancing up at the sun.  “We might as well eat something as long as we have stopped.  In fact,” he looked back at Hirgon, “will you stay and unhitch the horses?  We should probably give them a rest as well.”  Hirgon nodded, his face a blank mask.  Estel and the other men rode on and dismounted a short distance from where Eradan was desperately trying to keep the flock of sheep together.  Estel had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the young man as he grabbed one sheep and steered it back to the main flock only to have another one dart past him.  However, he did briefly grin at Gilost as the Ranger rode up and dismounted alongside them.  Gilost smiled back as he tied his horse beside the others.  Estel looked helplessly at the other men having no idea if it would be best to first go after the sheep in the woods, especially as he was concerned about the girls straying too far, or if they should help Eradan get the main flock settled first.  He turned to Halbarad.  “I want you to take charge here; I have no idea what should be done.”

            Halbarad gave him a look of surprise and then turned to the other men, “Gilost, Thalion, go and help the girls bring those sheep back,” he ordered decisively.  “Lord Aragorn and I will help Eradan and Héthurin get the flock back under control.  Nestad, watch and see that the cows don’t stray.”  Gilost and Thalion trotted off into the woods while Nestad cautiously circled around the milling sheep to take care of the small number of cows.  Halbarad looked at his cousin.  “Move slowly around them… it’s the only advice I can give you.”

            Eradan gave Estel and Halbarad a grateful look as they cautiously approached the flock.  Estel had never spent a more frustrating hour than he did calming the flock of sheep and slowly adding in the ones that had strayed.  He decided that sheep had to be some of the most witless animals he had ever even heard of.  At some point during that hour a couple of the other Rangers came in from patrolling, concerned when they had not seen the wagons.  Eventually the flock was brought under control and calmed and Estel finally had a chance to speak with Eradan.

            “What happened?” he asked in what he hoped was a calm and reasonable tone, though he was thoroughly frustrated at the waste of time and the delay.  Estel knew after spending an hour with the sheep that it probably would not have taken much to have spooked them, but he did not want it to happen again if it could be prevented.

            Eradan looked away briefly, not sure how to tell him what had happened.  He knew it would get the twins in trouble and might cause more tension between Aragorn and Hirgon, yet he would not lie to him and he knew they could not afford any further delays.  Looking back at Aragorn, Eradan saw that he was watching him with a puzzled frown.  “I’m sorry, my lord, that I could not stop them.”

            “Who?” Estel was puzzled and then he realized that he had not seen either Celin or Culas since the sheep had scattered.  “What did the twins do?” he sighed.

            “They didn’t do it on purpose, they were just playing,” Eradan said slowly.  “The last time I had seen the twins they were up near the wagons and then suddenly they were back here alongside us and throwing pinecones to each other.  Before I could even scold them pinecones had hit several of the sheep, scaring them and it didn’t take long before they started running… you saw the results.”

            Estel groaned inwardly at the thought of having to deal with the children… and with Hirgon over the matter, but it could not be helped.  They could not be allowed to do things that would delay their journey; the results could be deadly for them.  His eyes briefly met Nestad’s and then Estel looked around for Celin and Culas and he finally spotted them sitting by Rían at the wagon eating their lunch.  Hirgon was leaning against the wagon talking to his family.  Estel looked back at Eradan.  “Before that happened, did it seem to be going well?”  The young man nodded.  “Good, then make sure you and the girls get some lunch before we move on.”  He patted him on the shoulder and turned to the other men.  “Go and eat and I will join you, but first I need to speak with the children.”  He hesitated briefly and then gave Nestad an inquiring look.  “Care to join me?”  Nestad nodded and they left the others behind.

            “May I make a suggestion, my lord?”  Nestad’s voice was cautious, his eyes concerned as he gazed at Aragorn.

            “Of course, you can, Nestad.  In fact, I am surprised you are even asking before giving it to me… you usually give me advice without waiting for my approval.”  Estel tried to grin, but the healer’s serious expression stopped him and he slowed to a halt.  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

            “Be very careful, my lord.  Hirgon will not take this well, not if you accuse his children and they do not admit what they have done.  If they do admit to it, then I suggest that you allow Hirgon to find a fitting punishment for them.  Do not take that right away from him,” Nestad cautioned.  “As a father myself, I know how that would make me feel.”

            Estel gave him a thoughtful look, having not considered actually punishing the children beyond speaking to them sternly and pointing out the problems they had caused.  He assumed that would be enough to stop them from future misdeeds, but perhaps he was wrong.  “All right,” he said slowly.  “Is speaking to them not enough to stop them from doing something like that again?”

            A slow smile spread across Nestad’s face and he bit back a laugh.  “You are young yet, my lord, and I think that you will find that Celin and Culas and many other children sometimes need help remembering not to do certain things.  Perhaps being responsible for gathering all of the wood for the fire or something similar will help them remember not to do something like that again.”

            “Oh,” was all Estel said in reply and then he continued on his way.  Hirgon straightened at his approached and the twins looked at him warily, but he ignored them for a moment and looked down at Rían.  “How do you fare, Lady Rían?  Is the wagon to your satisfaction?”

            “I’m doing well, and the wagon is fine, my lord,” she replied quietly and with a shy smile.

            “Good,” Estel smiled at her for a moment and then his gaze shifted to Celin and Culas and he looked at them patiently until they shifted nervously under his steady regard.  “Well,” he asked in a soft voice, “would you like to tell me what happened?”  He glanced at Hirgon when the man growled at him.

            “What are you talking about… my lord?”

            Estel kept his voice calm and simply stared at Hirgon for a moment before turning his gaze back to the twins.  “I believe that Celin and Culas need to answer that question, Hirgon.”  The children stared wide-eyed at him and then their eyes darted to their ada and back to Estel.

            “Tell Lord Aragorn what he wants to know,” Rían said quietly. 

Estel glanced at her briefly and then he relaxed somewhat.  In his concern over how Hirgon would react, he had forgotten about Rían.  He should have realized that she would want the children to tell the truth about what they had done.  Finally Celin spoke in a low voice as she stared at the ground.

            “We were just playing… and throwing pinecones to each other…”

            “We didn’t mean to spook the sheep,” Culas interrupted his sister as he reached out and grabbed her hand.  “We were just tired of walking and… and just trying to have fun,” his eyes which had been looking pleadingly at Estel for understanding shifted to his father and then he lowered his gaze to the ground.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

            “Me, too,” Celin echoed in her own whisper.

            Estel ignored Hirgon’s shocked expression and focused on the children.  “Look at me,” he said gently.  Two sets of bluish grey eyes locked onto his.  “I am going to ask you to remember that we are on a journey that is quite dangerous.  I know you did not do it on purpose, but what happened today cost us a delay of several hours and we cannot afford that, we need to get to Dolomar as quickly as possible.  There might be snow,” he hesitated only briefly and then went on, “there may be orcs.”  Their faces paled at that thought, they were young but Estel needed them to think about the consequences of what they had done.  “We have to get there as quickly as we can.  Do you understand?”

            Both of them nodded vigorously.

            “I am going to leave it up to your ada,” he glanced at Hirgon again who was watching him closely with an expression Estel could not read, “to decide on a punishment that he thinks is appropriate for you.  He knows you better than I do and has much more experience with children.”  He inclined his head to Rían and started off to where Laereth and the others were waiting with food; Nestad joined him, giving him a brief smile though he said nothing.  They had only gone a dozen paces or so when Hirgon called out.

            “Lord Aragorn?”

            He swung around, surprised that there was no hint of anger in the voice, only uncertainty and Estel watched warily as the man approached.  “Yes, Hirgon?”

            “I… umm… I’m sorry for not watching after my children better.”  Hirgon swallowed hard, hating to apologize to anyone, let alone this particular man.  “I will keep a closer watch on them from now on.”

            Estel studied him for a moment and then nodded, “That would be a good idea, Hirgon.  I know that you want to arrive just as quickly and safely as the rest of us.”  He paused, “But I do know that you have other responsibilities as well and I will speak to the others so that all of us will keep an eye on them.”  He paused again at the brief flare of anger he saw in Hirgon’s eyes.  “Would you rather I not do that, Hirgon?” he asked quietly, frustrated at the man’s anger over a simple offer of help.  “I am not… I am not trying to have anyone take your place or your wife’s place as their parents, but simply to help you.  Lady Rían cannot watch them right now and, unless you want to always ride with the company itself… which is all right… then you will probably need help.”

            “Oh, I think the talk you just gave them impressed them mightily, my lord,” Nestad said, “I doubt you’ll have too much trouble from either of them.”

            Hirgon looked between the two of them suspiciously and then gave a reluctant nod.  “All right, my lord… and I would like to do some of the scouting and hunting.  I think I would get tired of just riding here with the wagons and such.”

            “That, I understand,” Estel sighed and turned away from the man and went to get his lunch.  Nestad followed him laughing quietly while Hirgon just stared after him for a moment before he turned back to discuss an appropriate punishment for his wayward children.  He thought that helping with the meals might be something they could do… it was needed and they would not enjoy it.

0-0-0

            The first week passed uneventfully except for light dustings of snow they awoke to several mornings.  It remained cold, but not bitterly so and the cloaks and blankets they had were able to provide them with sufficient warmth.  They rode from dawn until dusk each day, taking at least an hour break around noon to rest the horses pulling the wagons.  Except for the first day, they were able to travel about twelve miles each day depending on the trail.  Sometimes the woods and brush were thicker and more difficult to get the wagons through and sometimes there were steep hills to climb or streams to cross and those things took extra time, though they did not delay them long.  Eradan and the girls were able to keep the sheep and cows moving well and they had not had any further problems with them.  The twins had been quiet and subdued the first few days after they were scolded and they worked hard helping with the meals, but Estel could see that they were starting to return to their normal rambunctious selves once again, though he noticed that they never went back near the animals. 

            Estel kept all of the Rangers rotating between scouting and riding with the company, though he, himself always rode with the company, feeling that he needed to be there in case there was an emergency of some sort and some type of decision needed to be made quickly.  However, he did go out hunting every day, either in the morning or evening, often going with different men so that he might come to know them better.  The hunters usually came back with something and they were able to stretch their meager supply of dried food.  Estel kept two men on four hour watches throughout the night at the camp and another two men on the same schedule a mile or so away. That allowed each man to have a full nights sleep every couple of days; he wanted to keep them as rested as possible, especially those that had just returned from their patrol.  He could see the bone deep weariness in each of them.

            At night, after supper had been eaten, they would sit around the fire for only a brief time before heading to their tents.  Estel heard some fascinating stories of his people as he sat and listened quietly to the tales that were being told supposedly for the benefit of the children in their company, though sometimes he wondered if they were not being shared for him as well. 

           As they sat around the fire one evening a little over a week into their journey, Nestad turned to Estel with a twinkle in his eye and requested that he tell an elvish tale of some kind, insisting that he must know one or two from his years in Rivendell.  At the urging of the others, he finally shared a story that Glorfindel had told him about Gondolin.  Not about the destruction of the great elven city, but about the building of it and its beauty and about the people that lived there.  Estel found many elven tales full of either great sorrow or horrifying creatures and he did not really want to share them with the children, especially while they were traveling.  But his people seemed to appreciate the story well enough and murmured their thanks to him as they headed off to sleep.  After speaking with those who were on watch, Estel finally slipped into the tent he was sharing with Halbarad, Halhigal, and Gilost.  He did not sleep long.

            “My lord?” Beraid’s low voice brought Estel instantly awake, also waking Halbarad and Halhigal.  Estel sat up and tried to see who was speaking to him, but it was too dark.

            “What is the matter?” he also kept his voice low.  The tents were close together and he did not want to wake anyone else.  Estel grabbed his sword as he stood and made his way outside, closely followed by his cousin and uncle.

            “I’ll let Laegrist tell you…” Beraid replied, frowning. His voice trailed off as they approached the small fire that had been banked for the night and was now just a bed of orange coals.

            “Laegrist?” Estel asked sharply, knowing he was supposed to be on patrol and a feeling of dread filled him.  “What happened?”  He crouched down next to the Ranger at the fire where the man was warming his hands.

            “There is a small group of orcs just north of us, my lord,” Laegrist explained, his eyes glittering in the light of the coals.  “There weren’t more than four or five of them and they were headed northeast towards the Bruinen when they passed me and…”

            Estel laid his hand on Laegrist’s arm to interrupt him and he looked around.  “Halbarad, Beraid, get the rest of the men up and try not to disturb the children at least.”  He saw that Gilost had joined them from the other side of the camp and Estel turned back to Laegrist and motioned for him to continue.  Halhigal stirred up the fire and added several small logs as Laegrist continued.

            “I waited for about ten minutes after they went by thinking they might be scouts for a larger party, but nothing else moved and the normal night sounds started up again and so I trailed them for a half a mile or so to make sure they were not coming back toward us and the trail heads right for the river.”

            As Laegrist finished the men started arriving at the fire looking concerned and grim and they looked at Estel for direction.  He stood, thinking through all of the possibilities and none of them were good.  He looked briefly at Halhigal and then back at the ground as he thought.  The women, even Rían, were also emerging from the tents, and though they hung back a little they could still hear every word that was said.  Estel looked around at the others and his gaze landed on Beraid. 

           “Your father is the other man out on patrol, is he not?”  Beraid nodded.  Estel did not want to leave him out there alone with orcs in the area.  “Halbarad, were you going to relieve Tadion?”  His cousin nodded and Estel grimaced inwardly, Halbarad was really too inexperienced to send and yet he was a Ranger.  “Then you and… Maldathor go and bring him back.  I do not want him out there alone.”  He glanced at Halhigal and saw understanding and approval in his eyes.  As much as he wanted to go after the orcs Estel knew they could not risk doing so.  Not with the women and children with them.  In the morning he would send someone after them, but for now all they could do is stand watch and hope the orcs were not part of a larger group that might be heading their way.

            “We will have to wait and go after them in the morning,” Estel said quietly and he saw the looks of disappointment in a few of the younger men’s eyes, though no one spoke.  “We need to protect our families first,” he reminded them.  He glanced around the camp, knowing that they had set up the tents in the best defensive place that was available on the site, but he wanted to double check.  Seeing nothing better than the thick trees they were huddled under, Estel turned back to the men.  “Eradan, Mellonar, I want you to go and watch over the animals.”  They hurried to where the horses and cows had been tied on leads for the night and the sheep had been placed in a crude pen made from fallen tree limbs and rope and other materials they could find and where the dogs had been tied up for the night to serve as extra guards and to sound an alarm in case of danger.

            Estel looked at the other men and his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to think of what he knew of each man and how they moved in the woods as he had been hunting with most of them in the past week or so.  “Hirgon, Gilost, Laegrist, and… Beraid, I want you to go out around the camp about two hundred yards and slowly patrol the perimeter.”  Estel pointed to the areas where he wanted them to go and the four Rangers headed off into the night.  That left Estel standing with Halhigal, Nestad, and Thalion and he looked at his uncle questioningly.

            “Can you think of anything else we should do?”

            “No, perhaps when the other men get back you might add one or two of them to the outer patrol,” Halhigal shrugged.

            Estel glanced at Nestad and Thalion with an eyebrow raised in question, but they both shook their heads.  “We have to find out where these orcs are coming from.  If this is just a small group as Laegrist says, we can deal with them, but where are they coming from?  They must have a large den somewhere,” Estel frowned.

            “We don’t have time to track them back,” Thalion pointed out cautiously, hoping that he did not mean to chase them down right now.

            “Oh, I know, Thalion,” Estel grimaced.  “Though I would like to while the tracks are fresh and untouched by snow.  But we cannot leave our families and I will not send a few of you off to check on them.  However,” he gave Thalion a grim smile, “I may have your patrol ride back this way and see if you can find any trace of them.”  He shook his head slightly and thought about where to station the four of them around the camp, mostly around the shelters he thought.

            “My lord?” Laereth’s quiet voice interrupted Estel’s thoughts and he looked up and gave her a small nod and she continued.  “What would you have us women do?”

            Estel saw that the women held sheathed swords and he started as he realized that they were just as ready to defend the camp as were the men.  He took a moment to think about what they should do as he had never had women fight before and he hoped it would not come to it this time either.  Though, he knew that they had fought in Taurnand.  “Stay close to the tents and be a last line of defense.  I do not want any of our children taken… any of us taken,” he looked closely at Laereth and then at the other women to make sure they understood him.  Quick flashes of horror followed by understanding and acceptance crossed the women’s faces.  He hoped it would never come to that, to have to kill children to keep them from being taken by orcs, yet he knew it would be the most merciful thing that they could ever do.  Estel just hoped that he was never faced with making that decision.  The women retreated back to the tents and the men spread out around the camp, first scattering the logs of the fire apart to help it burn down quickly.

            It was a long quiet night.  Halbarad, Maldathor, and Tadion came back in a relatively short time and Estel sent Maldathor and Tadion back out to patrol the perimeter of the camp with the other Rangers.  But nothing disturbed them throughout the night and just before dawn broke a group of weary men and women gathered back around the fire which was being re-kindled.  Estel wished they could rest but he knew that had to push on as quickly as possible.  He also knew he had to send some men after the orcs and, while he wished that he could go himself, he knew he could not, not with the responsibility of the rest of the company.  He had spoken with Halhigal during the night and between them they had decided on the best way to handle both the orcs and the company.  Estel looked around at his people and gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

            “Well, at least we were not attacked.  However, we must move on as quickly as we can and yet we cannot leave those orcs behind us either… not without finding out where they are going.  Thalion, I want you to take Laegrist, Hirgon, and Gilost and track them down.  If you find it is a larger band than we thought, then leave them and come back for help.  We will be continuing in this same direction towards Dolomar.  Rejoin us a quickly as you can.”  Thalion nodded and he and his men scattered to gather their belongings as Estel turned to the others. “Beraid, Halbarad, Maldathor, as soon as the children are up, get the tents and shelters taken down and into the wagons and then come and help the rest of us with the horses.  Mellonar, Nestad, remain on watch for now while the rest of us get the horses ready.”  Estel looked at Laereth and the other women.  “I think breakfast will have to be something cold today so that we can leave as soon as possible.”  Two of the women hurried to the food packages and began pulling out some of the smoked and dried food, while the other two woke the children and packed up the tents so the men could take them down.

            Horses were saddled and Thalion and his men quickly rode out of camp in pursuit of the orcs.  The rest of the horses were either saddled or hitched to the wagons as swiftly as possible and it was less than thirty minutes after Thalion left that the rest of the company set out.  Estel had Halhigal continue to lead the way, though he kept him closer to the rest of the company than he had in the past, not letting him out of earshot.  He assigned Halbarad to ride close to the animals in case Eradan and the girls needed help as they could not afford any distractions or delays.  The twins were placed in the wagons and told not to walk.  Estel placed the other five men in a protective ring around the company as they traveled, two of them keeping within eyesight of the wagons and the other three a little further away that they might have some warning in case of an attack. 

            Estel rode alongside the wagons, his eyes constantly moving as he scanned the thick brushy woods they were traveling so slowly through.  He absently noted the sounds of the few birds that still remained at this time of year, their presence a comforting sound that signaled that no danger lurked nearby.  Occasionally he spoke briefly to the women or to the twins, but mostly they all remained quiet as the morning passed.  The stop they took at noon to rest the wagon teams was shorter than usual, but Estel did take a break knowing that he needed the horses to be well rested for the final five days of their journey… at least he hoped they could make it to Dolomar in only five more days.

            It was a couple of hours after noon when Thalion and his men rejoined them, suddenly appearing in front of them as their search had taken them swiftly in the same direction they were traveling, though well east of the company.  Their return was much quicker on horseback as they were not slowed by either the animals or the wagons.  They spoke first to Halhigal and then all of them rode back to Estel and the others.  Estel signaled the women to halt and he called in the rest of the men to hear what had been discovered.  He waited for the men, looking them over carefully as they approached.  None of them showed any signs of being in a battle and he frowned wondering if they now faced an even bigger threat or if they just had not been able to find them.  Though that seemed unlikely; Gilost at least was an excellent tracker.

            “My lord,” Thalion greeted him before looking past him and giving Laereth a quick nod.  His gaze shifted immediately back to his Chieftain.  “I am sorry, my lord, we found the trail of five orcs and we followed them… they were moving very quickly and didn’t turn aside as far as we could see.  They plainly had a purpose,” he frowned, “… or a destination in mind, but what and where that is I don’t know, my lord.”  Thalion hesitated, wondering, as he had often on the way back, if he had made the right decision.  “We followed them to a spot where the Bruinen is a little wider and shallower and they crossed the river.  I…I didn’t think we should follow them any further, my lord.  They were obviously not coming back this way and with our families,” he gestured towards the women and children, “I thought we should return.  Though, I will go back…”

            Estel shook his head, “No, you did the right thing, Thalion.  As much as I would like to have seen them dead, right now our main goal is to get to Dolomar quickly and safely and that might have taken you far too long.”  He gave the patrol leader a grim smile, “And you do not know what was waiting for you on the other side of the river.”

            “I did consider that,” Thalion acknowledged.

            “Perhaps that is where the orcs are holed up,” Halhigal said.

            “The ones that attacked our village came from the southwest,” Hirgon pointed out, surprising Estel by speaking up.

            Estel nodded, “Yes, they did.  But it is something we will have to check out when we send out a patrol to track them down.  There is nothing on the other side of the Bruinen that would capture the orcs interest, but anywhere along there would be good places for them to den up.”  He shook his head, frustrated at their inability to go after them now.  This area was well south of Imladris and he knew that their patrols on the other side of the Bruinen did not normally swing down so far so it was unlikely that the orcs would be discovered by the elves.  He glanced around at the returned Rangers.  “Do you need to eat before we move on?”

            “No, we had food in our packs, Lord Aragorn,” Thalion replied, “and ate as we rode.”

            “Then we will continue.”  Estel quickly appointed Gilost to ride ahead with Halhigal and the other three returned men to ride with the company and sent the rest of the men back to their original posts and they rode on until just before dark with no further sign of orcs.  Gilost and Halhigal found a small clearing with a steep hill at one side for their camp and they quickly set up the tents before eating another cold meal.  Estel did not want the smell of smoke or the light to possibly attract orcs.  The women and children went to bed immediately after supper and Estel sent half the men to sleep at that time as well.  The other half would stay on watch for half the night and sleep for the rest of it.  He felt they would get better rest that way and he wanted that many men up and guarding all through the night.  Though, part of him felt that there truly was no danger - that the small party of orcs had been all that there were.  But, of course he could not take any chances. 

            Another long night passed and there were no sign of orcs and when dawn approached, it was with a sense of relief and with the thought that perhaps the danger had passed.  Estel quietly agreed with his people, but reminded them that they still needed to be cautious and alert as they continued.  They ate a hot meal of porridge before packing up and heading out once again.

0-0-0

            The next several days passed uneventfully and while snow fell all one day, concerning Estel greatly, it did not greatly interfere with them except to make them wet and miserable.  The night before they were to arrive in Dolomar a sense of relief pervaded the camp and they stayed up later than usual telling stories and Estel noticed that even Tadion, who had lost his wife and young son in Taurnand, stayed close to the fire with his daughters and seemed to be enjoying the stories.  Beraid hovered over the three of them, watching his father and sisters with concern and yet a hint of relief in his eyes.  Estel knew he had been worried about them and was concerned about what the move would do to his sisters, especially after he and his father left again to return to their patrol.  Shaking his head slightly as he watched them, Estel glanced around looking for Halhigal and then went to speak with him.

            “Uncle Halhigal, I have been thinking that it might be a good idea to send someone ahead in the morning to warn the villagers that we are coming.  It would give them a chance to prepare for our arrival and to have a nice meal ready.”  Estel frowned and lowered his voice as he moved further away from the others.  “I do worry somewhat about how the villagers will receive these people.  It is not that I think they will not want to help them, but…”

            “You need not worry, Aragorn,” Halhigal said quietly.  “The Dúnedain take care of their own.  We are too small of a group of people to do otherwise.  I do think it is a good idea to send someone ahead and if they leave here at dawn they should arrive before noon.”  He looked closely at his nephew, “Did you have someone in mind?  You will need to send two people,” he reminded him.  A faint twinkle lit the depths of his eye as he well knew who would like to go.

            Estel sighed, “It will have to be Gilost and Halbarad then.  I do not want any of the people from Taurnand arriving early in case the reaction is not quite as positive as we had hoped.”

            Halhigal gave a thoughtful nod and then asked in a quiet voice.  “Do you not want to go?”

            “Of course, but I know my duty is here, Uncle,” Estel shrugged and mostly succeeded in keeping the wistfulness out of his voice.  He was tired of riding so slowly with the wagons and not even going out to do any of the scouting, though he still thought it was the best thing for him to do.

            “I think that perhaps you might better explain to the people of Dolomar why all of these people are coming.  It is certainly not something that either Gilost or Halbarad are used to doing,” Halhigal bit back a smile as Aragorn’s eyes lit up.

            “I had not considered that,” Estel said slowly.  “Would you be willing to lead the people tomorrow?”  Halhigal nodded and Estel continued.  “I will take Halbarad with me, if you think that would be all right.”

            “I think that would be all right, my lord,” Halhigal suddenly smiled.

            Estel narrowed his eyes and stared at his uncle for a moment before giving his uncle a smile in return, realizing Halhigal knew exactly how he was feeling.  “I will tell Halbarad and speak with the people in the morning, Uncle.”  He walked off in search of Halbarad slightly amused at how easily his uncle had talked him into deciding it would be best that he go and yet grateful for it at the same time.  Estel found Halbarad just on the edge of the firelight standing under a tree with his arms crossed, his eyes hooded as he appeared to be listening to whatever story was being told by those seated around the fire.

            “Why are you standing so far away?” Estel asked quietly as he approached.  “Are you not cold?”

            Halbarad shrugged, “I’m warm enough, I have my cloak.  I just was thinking and only half listening to the stories.”

            “Thinking about being home?”

            “Yes… and other things,” Halbarad’s voice lowered and he glanced at the fire and then back at Aragorn.  “We’ve been gone a long time…”

            “Only two months.”

            “It seems longer,” Halbarad muttered.

            “It does, so much has happened,” Estel acknowledged even as he wondered where this conversation was heading.

            Halbarad hesitated, not sure he could or even if he wanted to share what he was feeling with Aragorn and then he remembered the things Aragorn had shared with him and he let out a small sigh.  Pushing himself away from the tree he started moving further away from the people at the fire indicating Aragorn should follow him.  He stopped when he was sure they were out of earshot.

            “What is the matter, Halbarad?” Estel asked, the concern for his cousin evident in his voice.

            “It sounds selfish, Aragorn, and I don’t mean it to be, but while I’m looking forward to seeing Naneth and everyone tomorrow, I am not looking forward to being at home again,” he looked away from Aragorn’s surprised expression.  “I wanted to be gone for the winter and to see and do different things,” Halbarad’s voice dropped to a whisper.  He risked a glance at his cousin but did not see disappointment, but understanding on his face.  “I know I shouldn’t feel this way, Aragorn… not after what these people have suffered and gone through, but…“ he shrugged.

            Estel studied Halbarad for a moment as he tried to find the right words.  He was not sure what to say even though he remembered what it was like going off with his brothers on patrol and then returning home and being treated the same as he had been before he had been off fighting and killing orcs.  He felt all grown up and yet those around him did not recognize or treat him that way yet.  “You are concerned that your naneth and others will treat you as they did before you left, are you not?  As a young man and not the Ranger that you are… that you have become in the last two months.”

            “Yes,” Halbarad sighed and gave his cousin a rueful smile.

            “My naneth did the same when I would return from patrols with my brothers or Lord Glorfindel.  She might still do the same when you are fifty, Halbarad,” Estel grinned.

            “But what about others, will you… never mind,” Halbarad stopped and shook his head.  He had not meant to bring up the one question that was most important to him.

            “Will I what?” Estel asked, his eyes questioning.

            Halbarad took a deep breath.  “When you look at me do you see me as your cousin or one of your Rangers?”

            Estel blinked in surprise and then he took a step away and stared at the ground and did not answer him as he struggled to contain his hurt, wondering how Halbarad could possibly think he saw him only as another of his Rangers.

            “Aragorn?” Halbarad’s low, hesitant voice finally made him look up once again.  “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to…” he tried to explain.

            “I hope not, because I have many Rangers and only one cousin.  One here among my people that I consider almost a brother,” he added quietly, finally meeting Halbarad’s eyes.

            “I feel the same,” Halbarad replied and then took another deep breath.  “But that’s what I wanted to ask you… I know you feel that way and when you are assigning the Rangers to different duties, I wonder if you,” he paused and carefully considered his words.  “Because I’m your cousin… your brother, do you not assign me to dangerous things because you’re afraid I might get hurt?”  There, it was out, the thing that had been bothering Halbarad for days as they had been traveling.  It seemed to him that Aragorn skipped over him for certain assignments and the only reason he could think of was because he was his cousin.

            “Is that what you truly think?  That I would not allow you to go on a patrol because you are my cousin and it is too dangerous, that I would send someone else in your place?”  Halbarad shifted uneasily, suddenly realizing how that sounded.  “The reason I do not assign you to some of those things, Cousin, is because you are the youngest Ranger and everyone else has years of experience.  Why would I send someone who has been a Ranger less than two months when I could send someone with experience?”

            “So that they can gain that experience,” Halbarad replied promptly.  “I will not learn, Aragorn, if I don’t go out with the patrols.  It seemed to me that Adar kept me in Dolomar a little longer than was usual.  I’ll be twenty-four next month and most young men join the Rangers soon after their twenty-third birthday.  I just… I just want to be treated like every other Ranger.”

            “I will never treat you as if you were any other Ranger,” Estel said with a small smile.  “However, you are correct that you do need to gain experience and I will keep that in mind.  Perhaps I was trying to protect you without even realizing it.”  He paused and thought for a moment.  “I wonder if Uncle Halhigal kept you home because he knew I was returning.  If so, then I am sorry.”

            “That is not your fault, and at least that would be a good reason, but I wish he would have at least told me that.”  Halbarad looked closely at Aragorn wondering if he was upset with him, but he did not appear to be.  “I’m sorry if what I said was disrespectful, I was not trying to be and I never even meant to ask you,” he grimaced.

            Estel laid his hand on Halbarad’s shoulder, “You were not and I would rather you said something than to have it worry at you.”  Halbarad nodded.  “Now, I did come to speak with you for a reason,“ he frowned.  “Though, maybe you would rather not go.  I am leaving early in the morning to ride ahead to Dolomar to warn them that we are coming and I would like you to come with me.  But, perhaps you would rather come later with the wagons.”

            Halbarad shook his head and grinned.  “I’d much rather ride ahead with you than stay with the wagons.  I’m tired of going so slow and as we are going to arrive there tomorrow anyway, I might as well get there quickly.”

            “Good, we will leave at dawn.  I will leave you to finish out your watch and see you in the morning.  Good-night, Halbarad.”

            “Good-night, Lord Aragorn,” Halbarad grinned at his cousin’s grimace before turning and walking off to finish the rest of his watch in silence as he thought about the conversation he had just had with… his brother.  He’d always wanted a brother, or even a sister for that matter, and now it appeared that he finally had one.

~~~~~~

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

~~~~~

Chapter 12

            Estel and Halbarad rode hard throughout the early December morning trying to outrace the bitter cold that had descended during the night.  They rode warily, keeping an eye on their surroundings for any sign of orcs but spotted nothing as they hurried home to Dolomar.  Estel was surprised at how much he was looking forward to being back in Dolomar, to seeing his aunt and the other people of the village again.  He realized that though he had spent less than a month there it did feel like his home amongst the Dúnedain. 

            Pausing at the top of a hill to give the horses a short rest, the two men looked out over the tree filled valley spreading out below.  The forest was like a patchwork quilt, dark splotches of evergreen trees surrounded by the bare branches of the trees that had lost their leaves.  In the distance the rays of the sun reflected off of a small stream that wended its way down to the Bruinen.  Frost clung to everything within sight.

            “It is beautiful,” Estel murmured, his breath leaving a visible mist in the air.

            “It is,” Halbarad agreed.  “Though,” he added after a moment and with a sidelong look at his cousin, “I’d have to say that I’ve seen things that are more beautiful.”

            Estel took one last look at the valley and then urged his horse on before he responded.  “Where?”

            “In Taurnand,” Halbarad replied with a grin.  “Do not tell me you didn’t see the beautiful young ladies in the village!  I know we were busy, but you must have seen them, Aragorn.”

            Estel almost reined to a halt again so great was his surprise at Halbarad switching from speaking of the beauty of nature to the beauty of a woman.  He shook his head and slowly responded, “Yes, I saw them, Halbarad.”  He shrugged, “But I do not think they were any more beautiful than the young ladies in Dolomar.”  Thoughts of Arwen were carefully tucked away in a corner of Estel’s heart and he only allowed himself to think about her on occasion and so it was somewhat easier for him to talk about women with Halbarad.

            Halbarad gave a derisive snort, “Those ladies are like my sisters.  I grew up with them.”

            “It does not mean they are not beautiful.  And you seemed to like Braniell well enough that first morning I was there.”

            Furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what Aragorn was talking about, Halbarad finally let out a low chuckle as he recalled the incident.  “I was only pointing her out for your benefit,” he grinned.

            “That was not the impression that I had at the time.”

            “Well, perhaps it wasn’t strictly for your benefit… she is rather pretty.  She’s much too old for you anyway, she’s twenty-two.”

            Estel threw back his head and laughed at that.

            “Well,” Halbarad said uncertainly, “most men don’t marry women that are older than they are.  You should look at the girls younger than you, Aragorn.  Like Tadion’s oldest daughter.”

            “She is only seventeen,” Estel said with a frown.  The girl seemed even younger than that, though he did admit to himself that she was pretty.

            “Yes, and you’re only twenty.  She is pretty, Aragorn.”

            “I… yes, I suppose that she is.”

            They rode on in silence for a few minutes and finally Halbarad reined his horse to a halt and looked questioningly at his cousin when he stopped alongside him.  “Why did you laugh so when I mentioned that Braniell was too old for you?”

            Estel hesitated only briefly before explaining, “Because I grew up among elves, Halbarad, and two years is nothing in their eyes.  I know elvish couples that are many hundreds of years apart in age.  Adar and his wife are separated by thousands of years and so for you to say that two years older was too much struck me as humorous.”  He did not intend to tell his cousin about his love for someone three thousand years older.  “Age is just seen differently among the elves and so I guess I see it differently as well.”

            “Oh.  Well, do you think you could marry someone older than yourself?”  The thought had never really occurred to Halbarad.  Most men he knew married women that were five to ten years younger than themselves.

            “Yes, if I loved her and she loved me in return.  Age would not make any difference to me, it simply is not that important.”  Estel wondered if he should tell Halbarad about Arwen, but decided that he was not ready to speak about her to anyone yet.

            Thinking it over for a moment, Halbarad finally commented with a small smile, “It does give you more ladies from which to chose a wife.”

            Estel chuckled and they urged their horses back into a canter to continue their journey home.

            They stopped again at a small creek a couple of hours before noon to water their horses and to give the animals a chance to rest.  Estel and Halbarad stood stretching their legs as they watched their horses drink.  Halbarad glanced at his cousin and then asked quietly, “Aragorn, have you ever wondered about what it would be like to be the king?”  It was something he had thought about ever since meeting Aragorn and he was curious to know if his cousin ever thought about it. 

            Estel turned and stared at him in disbelief.  “The king?  Being the king, Halbarad?  Why would I think about something that is impossible?”  He was not angry, just surprised, but he was not being totally honest either, he had thought about it on occasion.  He shook his head and stared off into the woods.

            “I just wondered, Aragorn.”  Halbarad shrugged, “I think I’d wonder about it… what it would be like to be a king.  That’s all I meant.”

            Shifting his gaze back to Halbarad, Estel nodded and gave his cousin a sheepish grin.  “I suppose I have thought about it… when Adar first told me who I was, but I do not really spend time thinking about it.  It will never happen and so I do not waste time on it.”

            “Why do you not think it could happen?  There is always hope that you could return to Gondor and reclaim the throne that is rightfully yours.”

            Estel started slowly walking back to his horse.  “I just think it has been too long.  They are so used to being ruled by the Stewards that they would not accept the return of a king and I would not go and fight for it, Halbarad.  It is an argument I could not win and could cause problems in Gondor that it does not need – not with the enemy that we are all facing.  None of my forefathers have tried to claim the throne for hundreds of years, why am I any different?”

            “No, I suppose you really couldn’t, but you are different than your forefathers,” Halbarad smiled.  “You were raised in Imladris and have abilities that none of them had… or so Adar says.  Besides, you also have me at your side to help you!”

            Chuckling softly, Estel mounted his horse and looked down at Halbarad.  “Are you saying that to encourage me or discourage me?” he grinned and before his cousin could respond he urged his horse forward and out of sight before Halbarad even mounted his horse.  

0-0-0

           The cousins arrived at Dolomar just before noon, cantering across the open fields to the south of the village, past the grazing cows and sheep, and through the open gate.  Reining to a halt in front of a wide-eyed Alvist and Rosruin, Estel and Halbarad quickly dismounted.

            “Lord Aragorn, where are Gilost and Halhigal?” Alvist asked anxiously as soon as he recovered from the shock of seeing the two of them back in the village months before they were expected.

            “They will be here before nightfall.  Where is Ladreníl?  I must speak with him immediately.”

            “I’m not sure…” Alvist replied.

            “He’s at home, my lord,” Rosruin spoke up.  “I saw him go there a little while ago.”

            “Please care for our horses,” Estel handed the reins to Alvist before striding swiftly down the lane to Ladreníl’s house with Halbarad at his side.  The boys watched them go wondering what horrible thing must have happened that would have led them to return so early and without Gilost and Halhigal.  After a moment, Alvist took the horses off to the stables leaving Rosruin to guard the gate.

            Estel knocked on the door of Ladreníl’s house and then stepped back and glanced at Halbarad.  “Do you want to go and speak with your naneth?  She may well hear that we have arrived without your adar, she will be worried.”

            Halbarad looked up the lane towards his house, biting his lip and then shook his head.  “I’ll ask Gaerwen to go and tell her that everything is all right, I should be here.”

            Estel nodded as the door opened.  Ladreníl stood there staring blankly at them.  “My lord! Halbarad!  What are… come in,” he stepped back so that they could come in out of the cold, though he looked anxiously behind them for any sign of his son, Gilost, or for Halhigal.  Questions could be asked just as easily in the warmth of the house.

            “Thank you,” Estel said, “It has been a long time since we have been out of the cold.  And let me put your heart at ease,” he continued as he moved towards the hearth glancing at Alpheth and Sírdhim who were sitting next to the fire.  “Gilost is well and should be here before nightfall.”  He gave Alpheth a reassuring smile as he crouched down next to the fire and Gilost’s mother let out a relieved sigh and got up from her chair to retrieve cups to make hot tea for the two men.

            “Gaerwen,” Halbarad looked at Gilost’s sister as she came into the main room of the house.  “Aragon and I need to speak with Ladreníl, would you please go and tell my naneth that I’ve returned and that my adar is well and will be home before dark?  I don’t want her to worry about him if she hears that we’ve returned without him.”  He paused, “Perhaps you should inform our grandmother as well.”

            “I will,” she nodded with a shy smile before slipping a heavy cloak around her shoulders and heading out into the cold. 

            “What happened?  Where are they?” Sírdhim asked brusquely, though Estel also heard the concern in his voice.

            “Wait until they’ve had a minute to rest, Adar,” Ladreníl said quietly, laying his hand on his father’s shoulder as he watched the two men eagerly accept the cups of tea from his wife.  “They said they are all right,” he reminded him.

            Estel took a small sip of the hot tea, savoring the taste before he stood and sat in the chair Alpheth indicated.  “They are, or they were when we left them this morning.  We rode ahead because they are not coming alone; they are bringing eighteen people with them.  Some of them are children and one of the women is still injured, though she is almost fully recovered now.”

            “Don’t forget the animals,” Halbarad reminded him.

            “How could I forget them?” Estel shook his head and took another sip of his tea.  He quickly continued at the confused and concerned expressions on all three of those listening.  “Forgive me, I am not making myself very clear.  Taurnand was attacked by orcs right before we arrived at the village.  They managed to set fires inside the village during the battle and though we were able to drive them off it was too late for some of our people.”  Estel paused and stared into the fire, taking a long drink of his tea, the memories of those first days coming back to him.  He had never really had time to sit and think about all that had happened; he had been too busy just dealing with what needed to be done.  He shook himself slightly and returned to the story.

            “Five people were killed.”  Flashes of sorrow passed over the faces of Alpheth, Ladreníl and Sírdhim.  “Celeblas was one of them.  I do not know if you knew him.”

            “I did, my lord,” Ladreníl bowed his head briefly while Sírdhim just nodded and looked away.

            “He was killed in the actual battle, but the others that were killed - a woman and three children - were killed in the fires.  The fires burned quickly and some of the houses collapsed.  Many others were burned and some had broken bones,” Estel sighed and ran his hand through his hair and Halbarad picked up the story.

            “The food storage buildings were also destroyed in the fires… all three of them.  All of the wheat, the corn, and any dried or smoked meat they had stored for the winter was gone.  Gilost and I and a couple of others saved a little bit, but the only food left in the village was what people had in their houses and you know that not a lot is stored in anyone’s home.”  Alpheth nodded.  “Gilost,” Halbarad paused and looked at Aragorn wondering if he should go on, but he motioned for him to continue.  “Gilost,” he repeated, “was sent out to bring back the patrols and…”

            “Alone?” Sírdhim interrupted, appalled at the thought of his grandson being sent out alone to find the patrols.  He well knew how far away those patrols were from the village and the dangers he might run into.

            “Yes, alone, Sírdhim,” Estel replied evenly, looking the man straight in the eye.  “It was not something that I wanted to do, but we had no choice.  I had a village full of injured people and we were hard pressed to keep all of them fed with the three of us and the one uninjured man and two young men that could help us.”

            “There were many other things we had to do, Aragorn,” Halbarad started to explain, but Ladreníl interrupted him.

            “It doesn’t matter.  You did what you needed to do, my lord, and I know you wouldn’t ever purposefully risk anyone’s life.”  The initial uneasiness that Ladreníl had felt around his young Chieftain had been put to rest during the time he had spent in Dolomar before he had left to go to Taurnand.  Ladreníl had learned enough of his character to know that the man would never send his son into danger without great need.

            “No, no, I wouldn’t,” Estel acknowledged.  He was beginning to explain his reasoning for making the move when the door opened and Gaerwen and Nimrie walked in.  Halbarad and Estel stood as she quickly moved towards them, concern written all over her face as she looked them up and down.  She embraced Halbarad and, after a moments hesitation, Aragorn as well.  “Gaerwen said that Halhigal will be here later but she didn’t say why.  What has happened?”

            “Sit, Naneth,” Halbarad gently pushed her down onto the chair where he had been sitting.  “Aragorn and I are just explaining.”  Nimrie nodded, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly.  Halbarad smiled slightly and exchanged a brief glance with Aragorn.

            Estel spent time explaining why the decision had been made to send the people to other villages and began telling about all of the families that were coming to Dolomar.  Halfway through their discussion, as Estel commented that he wanted to speak with all of their people, Gaerwen was sent to get Balrant and Caladithil. Ladreníl and Sírdhim knew or had heard of some of the men who were coming and they all knew of the ones who had relatives in the village.  Estel paused when he came to the last family. 

           “You all know the last family… well, at least you know the man, I assume do not know the wife or children.  His name is Hirgon…” Estel saw the looks of surprise that were exchanged.  Choosing not to tell them of the problems he had already had with the man, he spoke simply.  “I do know what happened many years ago, but that is behind us now and I would not have it spoken of.  His wife, Rían, and his children were badly injured and they needed additional care so they came with us so that Nestad could care for them on the way.  Though, they are all doing quite well now.”

            “People will talk, my lord,” Alpheth said quietly.  “I don’t think you will be able to stop them from doing that.”

            “I suppose not,” Estel admitted, “but I would ask that you do what you can to discourage it.”  He shrugged and gave a small smile, “Though, I imagine the people will be talking about the twins soon enough.”  Halbarad chuckled.  Estel turned to more pressing issues, “We need to have places for all of them to stay, I want a hot meal for them tonight, and we need to make arrangement for the animals… even if it is just something temporary for tonight.”

            “Did you and Halhigal have any plans for where the people might stay?” Nimrie spoke up, knowing that her husband would have thought much of this out before they even left Taurnand.

            Estel nodded and the discussion turned to housing the people and how to supply the bedding, clothing, and other household necessities that were needed before they moved on to deciding how best to care for the additional animals.

            A banging on the door interrupted their conversation and the door flew open without anyone responding to the knock and Balrant rushed into the room and headed straight for Estel.  “Aragorn!” he cried, launching himself at the Chieftain from several feet away.

            Estel grabbed the boy before he could actually land on his lap.  He smiled at Balrant as he set him on his feet in front of him.  “Hello, Balrant.”  He looked him up and down.  “Where is your cloak?”

            “I left it at home… it’s not that cold and I was in a hurry to see you.”

            Estel glanced up at Gaerwen and smiled his thanks as she handed him the boy’s cloak.  “Balrant, a Ranger never leaves his cloak behind in this kind of weather if he has a mission, he might freeze and the mission would not be completed.”  He put the cloak around the boy’s shoulder and fastened it.

            “All right, Aragorn.  I’ll remember,” Balrant said earnestly, straightening up and giving his Chieftain his most serious look.

            Choking back his laughter at the boy’s expression, Estel looked at the other boy who had come and was standing near the door.  “Hello, Caladithil.”  The boy smiled and greeted him in return before crossing over to Ladreníl to see why he had been sent for.  Estel gently pushed Balrant over to the older man so that Ladreníl could tell them what he wanted them to do. 

           Estel stood and stretched before finally removing his own cloak which he laid over the back of his chair.  He watched Nimrie speaking with Halbarad and suddenly felt a pang of longing for his own naneth and he turned and stared into the fire, shaking his head slightly at the feeling.  He was a grown man and it struck him as odd to suddenly miss her… Estel knew it would probably be years before he would see her again.

            “Lord Aragorn?”  Estel turned a questioning gaze at Alpheth and she continued.  “Would you like to eat something?  It will take some time before everyone is able to gather.”

            Glancing around, Estel realized the boys had gone without him even noticing.  “Yes, thank you, Alpheth, I would.  It has been a long time since breakfast.”  They sat and ate a quick meal, the best thing about it for Estel and Halbarad was the fresh bread which they had not had in weeks.  As soon as they were finished eating, they headed over to the Hall.  Estel and Halbarad received many worried glances by those they met on the way, but both of them spoke words of reassurance to them and the women relaxed somewhat.  Their grandmother was waiting for them right inside the door but she spoke no word of greeting.

            “Where is Halhigal?” she demanded.

            “He will be here before nightfall, Grandmother,” Halbarad said reassuringly.  “Did Gaerwen not tell you?”

            “Yes, yes,” she sniffed, “but she’s a flighty girl and I want to know what you two are doing here without my son.”  She looked both of them up and down for any sign of injury.  Seeing none she relaxed slightly, though her eyes narrowed as she noticed that Aragorn was once again wearing elvish clothing, but she made no comment, her concern for her son overriding anything else.

            “All of your questions will be answered in a moment, Grandmother,” Estel replied.  He raised his hand to pat her shoulder but let his hand fall back to his side when he realized she might not accept such a comforting gesture from him.  “But,” he continued, seeing the fear in her eyes, “he was well and in good health when we left him this morning and he is not alone, but with many other people.”

            “Aragorn needs to speak with all of the people, Grandmother,” Halbarad said, seeing her about to question him further.  “Come and sit with me and Naneth.”  Ivorwen hesitated, looking between her two tall grandsons and seeing no deceit in their eyes; she nodded and allowed Halbarad to lead her to a place at a nearby table.

            Estel glanced at Ladreníl who had been waiting, “I do not think she realized what she was saying about Gaerwen,” he gave the man an apologetic smile. 

            “I have known Ivorwen all of my life, my lord, and I well know her ways.  I think this is everyone,” he glanced around the Hall.

            Nodding, Estel strode quickly to the front of the room and faced his people.  “I do want to reassure you that Halhigal and Gilost will be here before nightfall.  However, they are not coming alone.  Eighteen people from the village of Taurnand are coming to live here.”  Estel went on to explain what had happened in the village and why he had decided to move the people to the others villages of the Dúnedain.  He felt and saw the horror and grief on behalf of the people of that village.  There were no questions about helping the people, all Dúnedain felt a level of kinship with one another due to their common Númenórean ancestry and the shared hardships of the lives that they all lived. 

            Nimrie, Alpheth, and Balrant’s mother, Arthiell, were charged with making sure the houses were ready for the families when they arrived.  Estel mentioned the lack of bedding, clothing, and basic household necessities that those families would have and he could see, by the expression on all the women’s faces, that those needs would be taken care of.  Estel had thought to have a large supper in the Hall for everyone, but Nimrie and Alpheth had each spoken against it, saying that the arriving villagers would be too tired to appreciate it and would probably prefer a simpler supper and a warm bed.  It had only taken Estel a moment to realize that they were right, but now he needed people to serve supper to Hirgon’s family and the two families staying in his house.  From the murmuring at the mention of Hirgon’s name earlier, he suspected it might be a difficult task.  Still, he hoped that someone might remember him with some bit of fondness.

            “We have decided to have some sort of welcoming supper tomorrow evening, but I would like all of the families to have a hot meal tonight.  It has been a long, cold journey.  Is there anyone willing to have Tadion’s, Maldathor’s, or Hirgon’s family in for supper?”

            “I will gladly take in Tadion’s family,” a woman in the back spoke up.

            “Maldathor and his family are welcome in our home,” said another.

            An uncomfortable silence fell on the room then and Estel grimaced inwardly.  He had known it would be hard on himself to have Hirgon here, but he had not considered how the other people of Dolomar might treat him until Alpheth had spoken of it earlier.  It mostly concerned him for Rían and the children’s sake.  Finally Alpheth spoke up and offered to have them in and Estel gave her a grateful smile as he knew what a sacrifice it was considering Gilost was also just returning.

           “Now, we also have a large number of animals arriving and so there will need to be some type of pen set up for them.  Ladreníl,” Estel beckoned the man forward, “is going to be in charge of that.”  Estel stepped back and let him speak about what he had planned for the animals.  He asked all the boys ten and older to come with him as soon as they were done here in the Hall.  Finished, he stepped aside for his Chieftain.

            “Does anyone have any questions?” Estel asked the villagers.  He continued on when none were asked.  “I do know that the addition of these people… our Dúnedain kin… will make things a little more difficult this winter and I appreciate your willingness to take them in without question.  As you experienced something similar here in the last few years, you well know it has been a very grievous and painful time for all of them.  To then lose their homes as well…” his voice trailed off; there was little else he could add.  “However, do not fear overmuch about food running low.  There will be four of us men here throughout the winter and we should be able to keep us well supplied with fresh meat.”

            “Don’t forget Eradan, my lord!  He’s also an excellent hunter,” Halbarad called out with a grin and a sparkle in his eyes.

            “Yes, yes, he is,” Estel acknowledged and then explained to the others.  “A young man named Eradan will also be staying here through the winter.”  He did not otherwise respond to Halbarad’s unspoken reminder that every single time the three of them had gone hunting, both Eradan and Halbarad had brought back larger deer than he had.  “If you do have questions for me later, I will probably be working with Ladreníl,” he said by way of dismissing the people.  After telling Ladreníl that he would join him shortly, Estel went to speak with Nimrie and his grandmother, pausing along the way to greet and speak briefly with various people as he did so.  He sat down at the table opposite his aunt, grandmother, and cousin.  “Thank you, Aunt Nimrie, for taking care of the housing and such.”

            A smile lightened her face as she responded.  “It is something I can easily do, Aragorn, and will keep me occupied until Halhigal arrives.”  Estel and Halbarad exchanged amused looks.  Nimrie lowered her voice.  “What would you have done if no one had offered to have Hirgon in for supper?”

            Estel hesitated, “I was about to have them over to our home and was hoping you could forgive me.”  Nimrie gave him a look of understanding and was starting to respond when Ivorwen interrupted.

            “You are definitely Gilraen’s son,” Ivorwen said with a scowl, not quite so willing to look past the trouble Hirgon had caused all those years ago.  But she knew that Gilraen had forgiven the man long ago, before Hirgon had even left Dolomar.

            Estel knew that his grandmother did not mean for her comment to be a compliment, but he chose to take it as one.  “Thank you,” he replied with a smile.  “Naneth is a special woman and to be compared to her is a wonderful compliment, Grandmother.” 

            Ivorwen gave him a hard stare and an abrupt nod, “She is.  But you do not know what it was like then… how hard it was on all of us.”

            Hearing the hint of long remembered hurt or possibly embarrassment in her voice, Estel thought carefully before he replied.  “I do not, I only know what Uncle Halhigal has told me and it sounds like it was very… unpleasant…” Ivorwen snorted at that.  “Yet it was over twenty years ago and I have a duty to care for all of my people, Grandmother, whether I personally like them or not.  Hirgon and I have had words several times already, yet I can also see his good qualities.  He is a good husband, father, and Ranger, so as long as he is not disrespectful, I will not have a problem with him.  And, I would not like to see his wife and children suffer any more than they already have.”

            “What happened to them?” Nimrie asked. 

            Estel quickly explained all of the injuries the three of them had suffered and he could see that even his grandmother’s eyes softened as he spoke, though she said nothing.

            “It will be fine, Aragorn, the people here will see how you treat him and act accordingly.  I think they were hesitant to take them in because they feared offending you,” Nimrie explained. 

            Estel blinked in surprise at that comment and knew he would have to spend time thinking about it.  Why would the villagers think he would be offended by them taking Hirgon and his family in for supper?

           Nimrie leaned across the table and patted his arm as she stood.  “Now, I must go and start getting the houses ready for all of them.”  She patted Halbarad’s shoulder as she passed him on her way out the door.

            The three of them sat there for a moment and then Estel stood to head outside.  He paused and glanced at his grandmother who still sat staring vacantly into the distance.  Exchanging a look with Halbarad and knowing he would probably regret it, he inquired politely, “Are you going to stay here, Grandmother?  Halbarad and I are leaving.”

            Startled, she looked up at him in surprise.  “No, I’m going home.”  She looked her grandson over as she stood.  “It appears I need to make you another set of clothes, Aragorn.  Did you already misplace the ones I made for you?”  Ivorwen began walking towards the door with her grandsons walking alongside her.

            Estel bit back a grin at the almost conversational tone his grandmother was using.  “No, they are in my pack and they are rather dirty, Grandmother.  We have been traveling for two weeks and I have not had a chance to wash them.  This is all I had to wear,” he plucked on the sleeve of his tunic.  Estel looked at Halbarad from the corner of his eye and saw that he was staring fixedly ahead and he knew his cousin did not want to risk catching his eye.

            “I see.  Well, you bring me your pack and I’ll wash your clothing this afternoon so that you’ll have clean, Dúnedain clothing to wear again.  Bring yours too, Halbarad, I’m sure you have some that are filthy as well.” 

            Estel opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he realized it was a battle he would not win… not that he was sure he wanted to.

           “Naneth will clean my clothes, Grandmother,” Halbarad protested.

            Ivorwen snorted and cast him a withering glare.  “Do you not think your naneth has enough to keep her busy, Halbarad?  This is something that I can do quite easily while she is busy preparing the houses.”

            “She won’t like it,” Halbarad muttered,” but I’ll bring them… or send one of the boys with them.”

            Giving them an abrupt, satisfied nod she turned and headed towards her home.  Estel and Halbarad stood watching her for a moment as they pulled their cloaks tightly about themselves against the bitter cold that seem to have worsened since they had arrived in the village.   Then they turned in the opposite direction to go and help with the pens for the animals.

0-0-0

           Estel and Halbarad were working hard on the animal pens when a yell from the gate alerted them to the arrival of the company from Taurnand about an hour before sunset.  Exchanging a relieved look the cousins set aside the axes they were using to split the rails for the fence, buckled on swords and donned their heavy winter cloaks once again.  Ladreníl and the boys of the village joined them as they walked to the gate and then through it to wait for the approaching people.  Estel quickly ran his eyes over the group, counting them and looking for any signs that they had run into trouble, but all he saw was weariness and deep relief that they had finally arrived at Dolomar.  Halhigal reined to a stop and looked down at him.

            “You made it safely, then?”

            “I was going to ask you the same, Uncle,” Estel replied with a small smile.  “We are as ready as we can be,” he continued as Halhigal dismounted and greeted Ladreníl.  “I think it best to take the wagons to the center of the village and get the women and children out of the cold as quickly as we can.  Ladreníl has made temporary arrangements for the animals.”  Estel called Alvist, Rosruin, Caladithil, and several other boys to him.  “I need your help with the animals.  Come along.” 

            Except for Eradan and the girls back with the cows and sheep, the people were gathered around the wagons waiting to see where they were supposed to go.  The men were looking the stockade over with experienced eyes, while the women looked curiously around at the fields and the sheds.  Estel stopped in the middle of the group and the people drew close to listen.  He started to speak and then paused and glanced at Nestad, giving the healer a quick grin.

           “Nestad, here is someone that I think you would like to meet.  This is your grandson, Caladithil,” Estel drew the boy forward and watched a smile light up the man’s face.

            “Hello, Caladithil,” Nestad smiled at his grandson and beckoned the boy to him and looked him over carefully.  “You look just like your father,” he murmured, before embracing him.  Clearly embarrassed, Caladithil said a quiet hello and stared at the ground while Estel continued with his directions. 

            “We are going to take the wagons into the village center and get the families into the houses or homes we have for you.  Gilost, help your adar with the cows and the sheep.  Caladithil and,” Estel pointed to a couple of other boys, “will help you.  Halbarad, Alvist, and Rosruin, take care of the horses.  Halhigal and I will bring the wagon teams after we have everyone settled.”

            “Alvist?” Laereth said from her spot on the wagon she was driving.  “Who is Alvist?”

            “I am,” he stepped forward holding the reins of a couple of horses he had already taken from the men.  “Are you my aunt?  Naneth told me you were coming.”

            Laereth gave him a gentle smile as she looked him over, seeing her own sons mirrored in this boy.  “Yes, I’m Laereth.  This is your Uncle Thalion and your cousin, Laegrist.”  The two men greeted him with smiles of their own.  “Your cousin Eradan is back with the other animals.”

            “I’m glad to finally meet my mother’s kin.  I’ll take your horses, Uncle Thalion, Laegrist,” Alvist held out his hand and took the reins of their horses with a smile.  “I’ll speak with you at supper,” he said as he led the horses away.

            They drove the wagons into the center of the village and stopped near the Hall.  Doors around the village opened and women and girls came out to help with the unloading.  Estel paused to watch as Nestad greeted his daughter, Emeldir, whom he had not seen in over fifteen years, and to see the reunion between sisters Laereth and Linnor.  He then turned back to directing the people to their new homes and making sure that they had the things they needed at least for the night.  Although, as he looked around his house that was now furnished for the two families that were sharing it, he realized he need not worry about them lacking for anything.  From what he could see, Nimrie had thought of everything that they could possibly need.

            Estel kept one eye on Hirgon while they all worked and saw the hesitancy in the man as he greeted Ladreníl.  But Ladreníl greeted him no differently than any of the other men except to invite him and his family to supper.  Hirgon was visibly surprised but quickly masked his feelings as he nodded his thanks.  Some of the older women also greeted him in passing and were quickly introduced to Rían.  Estel saw the tenseness in the set of Hirgon’s shoulders lessen as they continued unloading and he knew that he was not the only one who had been worried about Hirgon’s acceptance in the village.

            With the wagons finally unloaded the people of Dolomar hurried back into their warm homes, some of them ushering in the families from Taurnand ahead of them.  Estel, Halhigal, and Halbarad exchanged long, relieved looks at getting them all safely back to Dolomar.  Weary beyond measure, the three men turned towards home with thoughts of a hot meal and a soft bed foremost on their minds.

~~~~~

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.  

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

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            Estel awoke before dawn and he burrowed deeper into the quilts on his bed.  It was cold in his room, but the luxury of sleeping in a bed after months on the ground made it difficult to arise and start the day.  Thinking about all of the things that he needed to do that day did not make it any easier for him to get up either.  He groaned and rolled over on his back and stared up towards the ceiling as his mind began to sort through lists and ideas.  Just because they had all arrived safely back in Dolomar did not mean his work was over, just a different kind of work needed to be done, and not just for him, but for the whole village.  Glancing out the window into the darkness Estel thought that perhaps there was time for him to take a walk before he was to meet with some of the men and women to organize things in the village. 

           Throwing back the covers, Estel hopped out of bed and quickly pulled on his clothes before stepping over to the dresser and pouring cold water into the basin and quickly washing his face and hands.  He chuckled as he realized that he did not even think anymore about the fact that the water was cold, it was just something he had become accustomed to.  Picking up his boots and sword he quietly opened the door and crept out, but his stealth was in vain, Nimrie was already up and preparing breakfast.  She looked up from the pot she was stirring over the fire and smiled at him.

            “Good morning, Aragorn, are you hungry?”

            Estel sat down in a chair close to the fire to put on his boots.  “Good morning.  Yes, I am, but I did not think you would be up yet and thought to just take some bread with me.”

            Nimrie glanced at him with a question in her eyes.  “Where are you going so early?  Don’t you want something hot?  It’s very cold out.”

            “I want to take a walk… we have a lot to do today and I thought it might help me think things through if I had some time alone.”

            Walking over to the small kitchen area Nimrie rummaged around in a cupboard and pulled out a couple of biscuits she had made the day before and then sliced off a few thick pieces of cheese from the large wedge on the counter.  Placing the cheese inside the biscuits she carried them back to her nephew.  “This will keep you from starving until you return.  I’ll set some of this porridge aside for you and have lots of hot tea ready.  You’ll certainly need it.”

            “Thank you,” Estel said as he stood and belted on his sword.  “I will be back in an hour or so.”  He wrapped his heavy cloak about himself and with the biscuits in hand he slipped outside and into the cold and dark.  It was snowing, flakes settling onto his dark cloak and he pulled up his hood, tucking his long hair inside of it.  Estel stood for a moment enjoying the quiet stillness of the morning and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in the beauty of the snow covered trees and bushes that he could just make out.  He had a feeling that this snow was not going to melt in a day or two; it had the look of a snowfall that was going to last all day and with the cold it was not going to disappear quickly.  It appeared they had arrived barely in time, but arrive they had, Estel thought to himself as he moved down towards the gate taking a bite of the biscuit as he walked. 

            As Estel neared the center of the village he realized he could not leave the village as he had planned, that it would be foolish for him to do so in this weather, and so with a sigh and a moments thought he turned into the smithy instead.  He had no desire to spend any more time around the animals, not even his own horse and so the stables were less than appealing at the moment and at least the smithy would give him some protection from the cold.  Settling down on a large chunk of wood near the small forge he pulled his hood back and finished eating his meal as he stared blankly out into the falling snow that was becoming more visible as the sky lightened in the east.  Finished with his biscuits, Estel pulled one leg up and wrapped his arms around his knee as he watched the snow and thought. 

           The snow reminded Estel that Mettarë was coming and he wondered how it was celebrated amongst the Dúnedain.  Among the elves the end of the year wasn’t celebrated until the end of March, but he knew that here it was December twenty-first.  He would have to find out if gifts were exchanged and, if so, what he could possibly do for gifts for his family here.  Shaking his head to clear it from his musings, Estel turned his mind to the discussions they were to have in a short time.  But, it was not to be.  His mind kept drifting to other things as he sat in the smithy watching the falling snow.  He had too many fond recollections of playing in the snow and so his thoughts were drawn to Imladris.  Especially to his naneth and his adar, though thoughts of Glorfindel and Erestor often crept in and he wondered if Elladan and Elrohir had returned home yet.  The events of the last couple of months had given him little opportunity to spend much time thinking on his family.

            The sound of children’s laughter caught his attention and Estel realized with a start that the sun was fully up and it was time for him to go… home.  He smiled inwardly as he realized he did, in fact, now have two homes and he felt fully comfortable here with his aunt and uncle and cousin.  Pulling his hood up once again and shivering a bit against the cold that had crept over him while he had sat motionless for so long, he stood and walked to the entrance of the smithy and looked to where the children were running and laughing and playing in the snow.  A smile crossed his lips as he watched them for a moment before heading back.

            Estel paused with his hand on the latch of the door as a sudden vision came to him.  It was brief and it was just a glimpse of an older Halbarad leading a group of Rangers and then another picture of him directing women and children in a village that appeared to be Dolomar.  That was all he saw and he stood there for a moment, frowning as he considered just why he had been shown those particular pictures.  It did not surprise him that Halbarad would one day be a leader of men, it was in his blood and as Estel’s cousin it was a natural position for him to assume.  But he felt that there was more to it than that and he was still trying to figure it out when he finally opened the door and stepped inside.

            Halbarad, Halhigal, and Nimrie were sitting around the table talking as he walked in stomping his feet and brushing the snow from his cloak.  Estel hung up his cloak and turned to see all three of them watching him.  “Is something the matter?  Did something happen while I was gone?” he asked.

            Halhigal cleared his throat as he studied the younger man, “No, but I was getting worried about you being out alone in the snow for so long.”

            Estel stopped abruptly on his way to the fire and shot his uncle an incredulous look.  “You were worried about me being out in the snow?  I am a skilled woodsman, Uncle Halhigal.”  He continued on to the hearth and crouched down by the fire to warm himself.  He murmured his thanks to Nimrie when she handed him a cup with tea leaves already in it and he added hot water from the kettle hanging over the fire and set the cup aside to let it steep for a moment.

            “I know you are, Aragorn, but anything can happen and I was concerned.”

            “Well, if it will set your mind at ease, I only went to the smithy,” Estel gave his uncle a very small smile, “and I sat on a log there and watched the snow fall as I thought.  I realized not long after I left here that it would be foolish to leave the village.”  He paused, “As I said, I am a skilled woodsman and I do not take risks needlessly.”

           “I’m glad to hear that, Aragorn, and I’m sorry that I didn’t trust your judgment,” Halhigal apologized.  “But it did bring one thing to mind.”  Estel gave him a questioning look.  “You need to appoint someone as your regent in case something happens to you or you need to be gone for an extended period of time.  That is what your father did and why I was left in charge after he died.”

            “I just assumed that you would do it.”

            “Not unless you appoint me.  Your return took that authority away from me and you need to appoint someone yourself.  You may find you would like to appoint someone different… Nestad, perhaps.”  Halhigal had seen the closeness that had developed between his nephew and the healer.

            Estel just looked at him and shook his head and then he was reminded of his vision and he gave Halbarad a thoughtful look.

            “I believe Halbarad is too young, Aragorn, I don’t think the people would follow him.”

            “No, not right now… but someday they will.”  Estel made a quick decision.  “Halbarad, I want you to start coming with me when I meet with the other leaders.  Like this morning when we meet with Nestad and Ladreníl and the others, I want you there.  I do not want you to say anything, just listen and we can discuss it later if needed.”

            “But…but, Aragorn, I’m only twenty-three and I don’t belong in those meetings.  The other men won’t like it if I’m there.”

            “And I am only twenty.  The men will get used to it.”  Estel looked from Halbarad to Halhigal and then to Nimrie and only she seemed accepting of his decision.  “I just sense that this is important for the future and…”

            “Did you have some sort of vision?”

            Estel nodded slowly before he answered his uncle.  “Yes, I did.  It just showed Halbarad leading a group of Rangers and then him directing a group of women and children here.”  He glanced at his cousin who just looked surprised.  Estel turned his gaze back to Halhigal.  “He was older than he is now… maybe fifteen to twenty years, but I am not really sure as I have a hard time judging the ages of the Dúnedain.  I would like to prepare him…you,” he looked directly at Halbarad who gave a slow, if somewhat puzzled nod, “for that future as much as possible.”

            “I will not always be here, either.”  Halhigal’s voice was matter-of-fact.

            Estel grimaced and then nodded, “I will appoint you as my regent now and then whatever the future holds we will deal with at that time.”  Halhigal nodded while Halbarad just stared down at the cup he was holding.

            “Are you going to join us at the table?” Nimrie asked, tired of seeing him sitting on the floor in front of the fire.

            “I am cold, Aunt Nimrie,” he picked up his tea and carefully scooped out the leaves before sipping it.  “It is cold out there and sitting still instead of walking around did not keep me very warm.  Is there any porridge left?” he asked hopefully. 

            Nimrie snorted softly as she got to her feet.  “I told you I would save you some.” She gave him a fond smile as she neared him and carefully pulled a covered pot out from the edge of the fire with a thick cloth.  “Though, I’m not sure it will taste much like porridge anymore.”

            Estel shrugged, “It will be hot.”  He frowned as his aunt took the lid off the pot and he stared down at the brown mass of what had been once been porridge but now looked more like… well, Estel was not sure what it looked like but it did not look very appetizing.  However, he was hungry and still cold and he would at least try and eat it.  Nimrie scraped it into a bowl with a loud plop and handed the bowl and a spoon to him and he murmured his thanks.  Suppressing a sigh, he lifted out a small spoonful and almost had it in his mouth when the sound of quiet laughter reached his ears.  Looking up he saw Halbarad chuckling and Halhigal had a smile that Estel had never seen on him before.

            “Are you really going to eat that?” Nimrie asked, trying to suppress her own laughter as her eyes twinkled with amusement.

            “Yes, I was going to… I am hungry and you did save it for me.  But, I will admit it does not look very… good.”  Estel lowered the spoon and looked at the three of them suspiciously.  “Did you do something to it?”

            “No, Aragorn,” Nimrie laughed quietly, “it really is just porridge that has been left to cook for far too long and is something no one should eat.  However, I started a new batch of porridge a little while before you came in and it should be just about ready now.  I would never let anyone eat something like that in my home.”  She lifted the lid on a pot that was hanging over the fire and Estel could see what looked like regular porridge cooking and he gave his aunt a quick grin.

            “Thank you, that looks wonderful.”

            Nimrie got a new bowl and ladled in several scoops of porridge and handed that to Estel.  “It will be nice to have all of you around here this winter,” she commented as she took the other bowl over to the counter. 

            Estel exchanged a quick glance and grin with Halbarad before starting in on his breakfast.

0-0-0

            Estel noticed the curious glances directed at Halbarad when he followed Halhigal, Nimrie and himself into the Hall to meet with the others, but no one made any comment as his cousin sat quietly at the far end of the table throughout the rather lengthy discussions.  Estel had asked Ladreníl, Alpheth, Thalion, Laereth, and Nestad to join him as they decided how best to run things in the village with the additional families.  The biggest issues were taking care of the animals and the sharing of food.  Bedding, clothing, and household things had mostly been taken care of before the families even arrived and any additional needs would easily be remedied in the next few days.  The issue of food turned out to be easily solved as well, Alpheth and Nimrie assured Estel that any of the women from Taurnand could just go to the storage sheds and take what was needed for their own use.  Also, the women from Dolomar would give them some additional things, like cheese and dried fruits from their own personal stores.

            As talk turned to the animals, Estel decided he really should have paid more attention to how they were cared for in Imladris.  Though he never had thought he would have a need to learn such information and he supposed it really did not apply in this situation anyway.  The problem was the lack of boys to care for the animals.  It had always been the responsibility of the boys between the ages of ten to fifteen to care for the animals and after that age they started doing other things like guarding the gate and hunting and eventually scouting around the village.  There were barely enough boys in Dolomar to care for their own animals, let alone the additional ones that had come from Taurnand and there were no boys in their party, except for Culas and he was only nine and deemed a little young for the task. 

            “I think the girls are going to have to help, my lord,” Nestad finally offered.  “They did a good job helping Eradan on the way here.  I know it’s not traditional, but they can do it.  I think it’s either them or you pull some of the young men from their jobs and then you have a different problem.”

            Estel nodded, “I think you are right, I worry about them out in the cold,” he ignored Nimrie’s raised eyebrow, “but I do not see any other solution.  And, perhaps, keeping busy this winter will help them overcome their grief over their losses.  In fact, I did want to ask if you thought that either Tadion or Beraid should stay here over the winter so that the girls would not be alone.  I… I do not have enough experience in these things to know if that would be the right thing to do.”  Estel looked around the table at the older men and women who surrounded him, men and women who had experienced much grief and loss over the long years of their lives.  He waited patiently as they thought and finally Halhigal spoke quietly.

            “I think you should speak with Tadion about this, Aragorn, and let it be their decision as a family.  There is no doubt that it would be good for the girls to have one of them here with them, but at the same time I don’t know if they would appreciate it if you just told them that they had to stay.  Even the girls at sixteen and seventeen know how important the patrols are and don’t expect their father or brother to be around.”  Halhigal furrowed his brow as he added, “And, with orcs in the area they patrol, I’m not sure you want to send Thalion out short-handed either.”

            “I thought to send Gilost with him instead.  But, I will speak with Tadion and let them decide.  They have several days before they have to leave.”

            “I thought we would leave tomorrow, my lord,” Thalion said, surprised.

            “No, I want you and your men to have a couple of days to rest and to see your families settled.  You have today and the next two days and then you will leave at dawn the following day.  We need to decide where exactly you are going to go and look for the orcs that attacked the village.”

            Halhigal exchanged a look with Ladreníl and then spoke hesitantly, “Aragorn, I think you might want to consider sending them out tomorrow, they’ve been gone a long time from their patrol area and it’ll take them a couple of weeks to return there in this weather.”

            Estel glanced at the other men and Ladreníl and Nestad both nodded so he turned back to Thalion.  “Do you really feel you and your men need no more time to rest or have more time to help your families adjust to living here?”

            “My lord, we’ve all spent more time with our families the last five weeks than we’ve spent with them in years,” Thalion gave Laereth a quick smile before turning his gaze back to Estel.  “And while there were some tense times on our journey here, this trip was not a difficult one for us, it was very slow and I think all of us are very well rested, my lord.”

            “Then I will heed your counsel on this,” Estel said after a moments thought.  “I will go and speak with Tadion when I leave here.”

            “What are you going to do about the orcs that crossed the Bruinen?” Nestad asked.

            Estel grimaced and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.  “I am uncertain about what to do with those right now.”  He glanced at Thalion, “You need to get back to your regular patrol area and that would take you well out of the way and I cannot lead a party from here.  There are simply not enough men given the fact that some must remain behind to ensure that the people have enough meat to get them through the winter.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “No, I think we will have to leave them for now and in the spring when some of the patrols return we will go and see if we can find any sign of them, though I am aware that it will probably be far too late.”  He shrugged, “It cannot be helped.”

            “We don’t always get them all,” Halhigal said and Estel nodded.

            “I had one other thing to tell you before you leave,” Estel said.  “I wanted you all to know that I have appointed Halhigal as my regent in case anything happens to me or if I am gone for an extended period of time for whatever reason.”  Estel saw questioning glances cast once again at Halbarad but again he said nothing about his cousin’s presence at the meeting.  “Unless there is anything else that needs to be decided,” he paused and when no one said anything he continued.  “After I speak with Tadion I will be helping on the pens for the animals if anyone needs me.  Thalion, I will speak with you later about your patrol.”  With that, the men and women went their separate ways to work on the things that still needed to be done around the village to help the new villagers settle in.

0-0-0

            Watching the six men ready their horses in the bright early morning sun, Estel realized he was going to miss them, particularly Thalion and the youngest Rangers, Laegrist and Beraid.  He was coming to realize that in normal circumstances, this was the way it was always going to be with his men.  That he would just see them occasionally as they returned briefly to the villages to visit their families.  It made him determined to go out with the patrols as soon as possible in the spring because otherwise it would take a long time to get to really know his men, especially those from the other villages.

            “Do you wish you were going?”

            Estel looked at Halbarad from the corner of his eye, “Yes, and no.  I would enjoy the freedom being on patrol would allow me, yet I know I am needed here.  There are people to feed and with the threat of orcs we have seen in the last few months it is best that we are here to protect the village if it becomes necessary.”

            Halbarad nodded.  “Perhaps we might find time to work on our swordplay.  We’ve never had time for that.”

            “No, we have been rather busy,” he smiled at his cousin before looking around for Mellonar who was not in sight.  But it was cold and only a few family members of those leaving appeared to be waiting to say good-bye.  “I am going to ask Mellonar if he will take over the sword training of the boys.”  Estel paused, “Though, as long as I am here I believe that I would enjoy working with the older boys.  And, you, of course,” he smiled.

            “We’re ready to go, my lord,” Thalion said as he walked up leading his horse, little clumps of sparkling white snow being thrown up by the horse’s feet as it moved.

            Estel clasped his arm, “Be well, Thalion.  May the Valar protect you, and the men you lead.”

            “Thank you, my lord.”  Thalion hesitated, “And may the Valar protect you as well, Lord Aragorn, we need you.  It’s good to have you back and leading us.”  He smiled then, a slight twinkle lighting up his eyes, “Keep an eye on Eradan for me and don’t let him get into trouble.”  He quickly mounted his horse.

            “I will try, but I will make no promises regarding your son.”  Both men ignored the quietly protesting Eradan.  “And, Thalion?”  Estel waited until the Ranger looked at him, “Thank you, I am glad to be here.”  Thalion simply nodded and urged his horse towards the gate.  Estel walked among the other men saying farewell to each of them.  He spoke quietly to Tadion about his daughters, Estel had not really been surprised that neither he nor Beraid had decided to stay behind, though he still thought that it would have been better for the girls.  But he was learning that there were some things that he really had no control over.  Or, rather, he could control, but it was best left in the hands of the families to deal with as they thought best.  The only man he did not really speak with was Hirgon as the Ranger would barely look at him and so with an inward sigh, Estel simply wished him well and Hirgon responded with a nod and a curt thank you, my lord.  And with that, the six Rangers rode out of the village, leaving their families behind once again.

0-0-0

            All of the tables in the Hall had been pushed up against the walls to clear room for the men and boys to practice.  The benches lining the walls were filled with boys and young men eagerly watching with sparkling, interested eyes the sparring going on in front of them.  Even those who were too young to participate themselves were watching and learning what they could of a skill that could, and probably would, someday save their life.  Only those on guard duty were not in the Hall this afternoon, but there would be other days for them to watch and learn.

            Estel stood to the side with Ladreníl, Halhigal, Gilost, and Nestad watching Mellonar with an assessing gaze as he sparred with Halbarad.  From talking with Nestad, Estel did believe that Mellonar had the necessary skills to teach the boys and, while he was a reserved man, Estel thought he might work well with them.  Still, Estel wanted to observe Mellonar for himself and so he watched him carefully as the older man and Halbarad sparred with the blunted practice blades.

            “He is quite good,” Estel murmured quietly to the other men, satisfied with the level of skill that Mellonar displayed.

            “You mean for a man.”

            Estel fixed Nestad with a hard stare, ignoring the slight twinkle in the healer’s eyes.  “I meant for someone who wields a sword, Nestad.”  He finally gave a brief smile, “I do try not to compare men with elves, though of course their skill is what I am most familiar with.”

            “I know, my lord, and I didn’t mean to imply…”

            “You did not say anything wrong,” Estel interrupted him with a shake of his head as he looked to his uncle and Ladreníl.  “What do you think?”

            “I’ll be glad to let him take over teaching the boys,” Ladreníl replied fervently.

            Halhigal watched the spar another moment, “I think he will work out well, Aragorn.  He handles the blade well and will do a good job with the boys.  I’m glad that you’ll be working with the older boys and young men when you have time.  It’s good for them to have a variety of teachers when they’re a little older.”

            Estel nodded and then turned his attention back to Halbarad and Mellonar as he waited for a slight pause so that he could call a halt since he had seen enough to make his decision.  As they broke apart and began circling each other once more he called for them to stop and Halbarad had a look of disappointment in his eyes as he approached, followed by Mellonar.

            “Well, Mellonar, would you be willing to teach the boys here the art of swordplay?”

            “If that is your wish, my lord,” he replied gruffly.

            “Ladreníl has taught them some of the basics, but even he admits that swordplay is not his strength so you will have to assess them to see what needs to be taught.  I would like to work with the older boys and young men as I have time, if that would not interfere with what you would plan to do.”

            Mellonar looked at him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief, “Your teaching would never interfere with my plans, my lord.”

            “All right, then.  How and when do you want to teach them?”

            “They have to care for the animals and they have guard and scouting duties,” Halhigal pointed out.

            “In Taurnand I had a lesson first thing in the morning and one in the afternoon before supper.”

            “Everyday?” Estel asked.  “For all of the boys?”

            “Everyday, but the youngest boys didn’t have to come everyday unless they wanted to.”  Mellonar paused and gave his Chieftain a pointed look, “They always seemed to come, though.”

            Estel looked to the other men and they nodded their agreement.  He then turned to the anxiously waiting boys.  “I want all of you who are ten and older to come here.”  A group of boys and young men hurried to his side, leaving a small, dejected looking group of little boys sitting on the sidelines.  Estel looked over the eager young faces briefly, remembering the days of his own training and then he introduced Mellonar to them.  “Mellonar is going to be teaching you swordplay.  Depending on your various chores or duties you will come here first thing in the morning or right before supper.  As I have time, I am also going to be working with some of you,” his gaze flicked to a grinning Eradan, and others who wore more serious expressions, including Alvist and Rosruin.  “We have time now, so,” he glanced around once more, “Eradan, Alvist, Rosruin, stay with me.  Halbarad, perhaps you might stay and help me with them.  The rest of you go with Mellonar.”

            Waiting until the larger group of boys followed Mellonar to the other end of the room, Estel looked at the three students.  “Go get practice blades,” he said quietly.  While they were gone he turned to Halbarad, noticing as he did so that the rest of the men had gone to sit by some of the little boys in the room.  “I thought you and I could practice after I was done with them, but I do want your help, too.”

            “I can wait, though I do wish you’d have let me finish sparring with Mellonar,” he whispered.  “I think I could have beaten him.”

            “Perhaps,” is all Estel said before the others returned.  “I want to see how you grip your sword.”  Estel checked each of their grips and made tiny adjustments to the way both Alvist and Rosruin held their sword.  “You need to start practicing this over and over now to make it permanent, you have been holding it incorrectly for a long time and it will take much practice now to correct it.”  He was pleased as he checked their stances; all three of them seemed to have mastered the basic stances and had developed good balance and footwork, though Eradan’s skill was far superior to the other two.  Estel knew that was partially due to the fact that he was several years older than the others, but he also thought that it spoke well of Mellonar’s teaching ability.

            “Wait here,” Estel commanded quietly as he strode to where the practice blades were stored.  He was picking through them, trying to find one that had the right balance when he felt eyes on him and he knew who it was without looking.  He continued his search and waited for Balrant to ask the question he knew was coming.  Finding a sword that felt right to him, Estel was starting back when the boy finally spoke.

            “Aragorn, are you going to teach me, too?” there was just the slightest quaver in the voice and Estel sighed inwardly as he turned to the boy sitting as patiently and as still as Estel had ever seen him.

            Estel crouched down in front of the boy and took his small hand in his sword calloused one.  “Do you remember what I told you a few months ago, Balrant?”

            Nodding, Balrant whispered, “That-that when I was older you would teach me some things about swords.”

            “Yes, and I will still do that, but you have to get a little bigger before you start learning to wield a sword.  How old are you?”

            “Seven, and I know I have to be ten.  But I want to help, Aragorn,” Balrant said with a fierce expression that took Estel by surprise.  “I don’t want people to be hurt, like… like… that boy was.”  He gestured down the bench and Estel glanced down to see Culas sitting alone on the bench watching the others intently.

            “Do you mean Culas?”  Balrant nodded.  Estel tightened his grip on the boy’s hand as he tried to sooth and explain at the same time.  “I am glad that you want to help others, Balrant.  You have a kind and generous heart.  But right now, at your age, we will have to find others ways for you to help.  You already help by running errands and such and those are things that need to be done.  But,” he said firmly, “you cannot learn to wield a sword until you are ten.”

            “All right, Aragorn, but… but what if the orcs come here?  Like they did in Culas’s village,   I can’t…” Balrant stopped and he looked away.

            Estel saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears and he wondered exactly what Culas had told him.  Though he supposed he really should not be surprised that Balrant had learned what the orcs had done in Taurnand.  They had not tried to keep it a secret and he could have overheard any of the adults speaking about it.  He supposed it was one thing for Balrant to hear of orcs and fighting off in some distant place and another thing to hear that they came into a village and people were injured or killed by them.  And for him to actually know someone close to his age that had been injured by orcs must have been a shock to the little boy, though he wondered if he had any memory of the attack in Dolomar, maybe he had been too young at the time.  If it was upsetting Balrant, it was probably upsetting to other young children in the village as well.  Estel would have to speak with Halhigal and Ladreníl about it, but for now he turned his attention back to Balrant, his heart saddened that one so young should have to face the realities of their harsh life so soon.

            Laying his practice sword down, Estel brushed some of Balrant’s hair back out of his face as he spoke softly.  “Balrant, I will not lie to you and say that it will never happen here because it could,” Estel said with a voice full of sorrow as Balrant watched him closely.  “All I can say is that those of us who can wield swords and bows will do our very best to protect you.  It is all any of us can do and it is why we practice so hard,” he gestured around the Hall.  “Now, while you cannot actually start training with a sword, you can come and watch the others and I know that you can learn much by simply watching and listening.  I know that I did,” Estel smiled at the boy.

            “C-can I come anytime?”

            “As long as your nana says it is all right.”

            Balrant nodded and Estel stood and glanced around the room, spotting Halhigal and Ladreníl watching them from the other side of the Hall.  “I think that Halhigal and Ladreníl would be good for you to sit by and they will be able to help you learn.  Come along,” Estel held his hand out to Balrant who took it hesitantly not really sure he wanted to go and sit with the men.  Glancing at Culas sitting alone, Estel called to him to join them as well and he took both boys across the room, skirting around the area where Mellonar was leading some boys through basic sword drills.

            “Uncle Halhigal, Ladreníl, I thought Balrant should sit by you so that he might start learning a little about swordplay in the event that orcs ever attacked Dolomar as they did Culas’s village.”  Estel saw the men’s eyes widen in understanding and then sadness as they looked at the little boy.

            “Of course.  Balrant, you sit between Ladreníl and me and Culas sit over here,” Halhigal patted the bench next to him and Culas eagerly sat by him, glad to have someone he knew to sit with.  Balrant was a little slower, glancing up at Estel who nodded encouragingly at him.

            “You two watch and listen,” Estel said before turning and walking slowly back to his group who were waiting for him with puzzled expressions. 

            “Is everything all right?”  Eradan asked with a concerned frown marring his usual lighthearted expression.

            “Balrant wants to learn how to use a sword, which is not unusual, but he has heard all about what happened in Taurnand and it frightens him.”  Estel saw Rosruin’s jaw tighten and knew the boy was thinking back three years to the attack here when his own mother had been killed, leaving him an orphan at the age of thirteen.  At least he had family here to take him in and now he lived with his uncle, Talagan, his aunt, Linnor, and his cousins, Alvist and baby Imlos.  Of course, now the house was even more crowded with Laereth and Eradan now living there.

            “Now, who wants to go first?” Estel ignored Eradan’s eagerness and turned to Alvist instead.  “Alvist, come.”  Estel led him a few feet into the room while the others stepped back and leaned against the wall to watch and learn.  Estel spoke quietly at first so not to be overheard by the others.  “My intent here is not to embarrass you, but to see what you already know how to do so that I can teach you further, all right?”  Alvist nodded and Estel stepped back a few paces and nodded for him to begin.

            Estel watched Alvist closely as the boy began circling him warily.  He noticed that his footwork, which the boy had done well in the drills, was not as smooth when he was actually using it in a sparring situation.  Alvist also held his sword too low and the grip that Estel had corrected had returned to the old way, but he knew it would take the boy some time to correct that.  He did seem to be focused on Estel as he should be and when he feinted to the left, Alvist responded correctly.  “Well done,” he murmured encouragingly.  Deciding that he had seen enough of his footwork and focus, Estel pressed his attack, though he did so slowly, keeping in mind the boy’s age.  He went straight ahead and probed for an opening at Alvist’s chest, but the boy quickly blocked it, pushing Estel’s blunted sword down and away as he backed away.  Following him, Estel aimed for a spot on the boy’s left side and Alvist just barely got his blade in the way and Estel pulled his sword back and stepped back himself to see if Alvist would come after him.  But the boy did not and Estel frowned slightly, though part of him was not really surprised as he remembered his own days of sparring with those who were older… much, much older in his case… and he knew it would take time for Alvist to feel comfortable.  He sparred with the boy for several more minutes, noting the way Alvist always defended himself the same way and the way his eyes gave away certain movements.  Finally, Estel ended the match with a quick, light tap on the boy’s leg with the flat side of his sword that Alvist never even saw coming.

            Alvist stood breathing heavily as Estel approached with his sword held loosely in his right hand.  “You did quite well, Alvist.  I can tell that you have worked hard with your sword, have you not?”  Alvist nodded and watched him closely to see what else his Chieftain had to say.  “Between that and reading your books, you must keep very busy considering all of the other things you have to do,” Estel commented before continuing.  “Now,” he placed a hand on Alvist shoulder and led him over towards the others so that all could listen.  Not to embarrass the boy, but so that all could learn.  Estel spent time explaining what he had noticed and how Alvist could correct some of those things and how he, Estel, planned to work with him to overcome some of the other mistakes he was making.  Still, Estel told him as he finished, he was doing quite well and Alvist grinned at the praise. 

            As Estel sparred with Rosruin, he found the boy to be much more aggressive than Alvist.  It surprised him, because the boy was usually quiet and somewhat withdrawn around others.  But his aggressiveness with his sword led to carelessness and Estel quickly ended the spar and spoke to the boy away from the others about his need to keep himself under control as he fought.  It was good to have a certain amount of aggression, but not if it led to mistakes that could cost him his life as well as the lives of others.  Rosruin had some good skills, which Estel praised him for, but he tempered that with the need for control.  Rosruin only nodded without comment and Estel sent him off and called Eradan to him.  As Eradan approached, Estel saw Halbarad speaking to both Alvist and Rosruin as he demonstrated something to them and Estel was pleased as he turned his gaze back to Eradan.

            “You have some good skills already, you listened and applied Mellonar’s teaching quite well.”

            “My father also taught me a lot.  When I was eleven he was home for awhile because he was injured.”

            Nodding, Estel motioned for Eradan to take his place and they began to spar.  Gone was the grinning young man and in his place was a serious young warrior.  Watching him carefully as they circled, Estel saw immediately that Eradan was as comfortable with a sword in his hand as he was with a bow when they were hunting.  They exchanged a series of thrusts and parries and Estel was impressed at Eradan’s ability.  As Estel was not using anywhere close to all of his skill and knowledge, and trying to do more observing than actually trying to win the match, he found himself having to go on the defensive several times.  He was surprised to realize that Eradan had only a little less skill than Halbarad.  After five minutes and having seen enough, Estel slipped his blade past Eradan’s and lightly slapped his upper arm.

            Eradan grimaced and Estel gave him a quick grin as they walked over to the others.  “You do very well already, Eradan and I think that you mostly need to work on your quickness and do as much sparring as you can.  I will work with you and give you advice and help on little things that I see, but really I think it best if you spar with me, Halbarad, or any of the men who might be available.  It really is the best way for you to improve right now.”

            “Then I will do that, my lord, thank you.”

            Estel shifted his gaze to the two boys, “Keep working on the things I showed you.  Tomorrow, if I have time, I will work with you again.  You may go.”  The boys left and Eradan was following when Estel called to the young man, “Gilost, Halbarad, and I are going hunting in the morning if you would like to join us, Eradan.”

            Looking back at him with a grin, Eradan said confidently, “I would enjoy bringing a deer back to the village, my lord.  Perhaps you will bring one down as well.”  He turned and walked away, missing the chagrined look on Estel’s face.

            “Oh, I’m sure you’ll bring something down tomorrow,” Halbarad said with a twinkle in his eye.  “A rabbit or a squirrel, perhaps.”

            Ignoring both of their comments, Estel began speaking to Halbarad about swordplay instead and Halbarad quickly focused on what he was saying, just as Estel had hoped he would.  “When I sparred with you before and as I watched you here with Mellonar, one thing I noticed is that when you start to move to your right you drop your sword a bit which leaves you vulnerable.  Even if you block your opponent’s sword the first few times, he’s going to begin to see what you are doing before you actually move and eventually it will catch up with you.”

            Halbarad’s eyes widened in surprise, “I actually do that?  Every time?”

            “Yes, and Mellonar saw it today and was starting to take advantage of it.”

            “That’s why you stopped us,” he mumbled, “You didn’t want me to lose to him.”

            Estel frowned at his cousin, “It is not why I stopped it.  I had seen enough to satisfy myself that Mellonar would do a good job with the boys and there was no reason to continue.”  Glancing around he saw that the Hall had emptied, except for Ladreníl and Gilost who were speaking with Mellonar at the other end of the room, and he continued.  “But I do believe he would have won and there is no shame in that.  He is eighty or ninety years older than you and has many years of experience as a Ranger; I would expect him to be better than you.”

            “I suppose so, though I doubt he’s better than you.”

            “I know not,” Estel replied, though he gave Halbarad a brief grin.  “Now, do you want to spar with me?  It will take time for you to overcome this bad habit you have developed, but you really need to do so, Halbarad.”

            “Of course I want to spar with you!  It’s why I’m still here and I need to fix this… I don’t want it to cost me my life.  Are there other things you noticed?” Halbarad asked somewhat hesitantly, not sure he really wanted to hear a list of his faults, but if there were things that he could improve then he wanted to do so.

            Estel nodded, his eyes intent and serious, “Yes, there are.  But this is the most serious one and we need to work on it first.  The other things are relatively minor, but will help you, and I will point them out to you as we spar.  I will also show you some exercises that will help improve your quickness.  I had to do a lot of them when I was younger and we can do them together, I think we will have the time this winter.”  He paused, “Perhaps I will ask Eradan to join us as well, he is quite good with his sword already.”

            Nodding, Halbarad held out the blunt blade he had taken from Eradan.  “Well, I’m ready, Aragorn,” he lightly tapped his sword against the one Estel held, “Come on.”  He walked to the center of the room with a determined look on his face and Estel slowly followed, his expression no less determined than his cousin’s.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Author’s Note:  I apologize in advance for the length of the chapter, I did promise one reader (who shall remain nameless, but you know who you are!) that I would keep my chapters shorter than my last story and I have done that, except for this one.  I just needed to finish up some things here so that the story could move on to the next section and I could not see breaking this into two chapters. 

Also, I am aware of the enormous number of original characters in the story and I do try and at least describe who they are – who they are related to or other pertinent information.  But, when Estel is in the village(s) he does interact with different people and so it’s hard not to have these people, though I honestly do try and keep it to a minimum.  Would it be helpful to have a character list at the end of the chapter?  You can email me or let me know in a review if you would find that helpful.

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Chapter 14

            As he strode briskly down the lane in the cold morning air, Estel squinted in the bright sun that was just rising to see who was walking ahead of him.   Realizing it was the three girls from Taurnand he quickened his pace, wanting to speak with them to ask if they had settled in and, with the oldest two girls, to see how they were in the absence of their father and brother.  At least they had each other and someone to care for them, someone they knew well.  Drawing alongside, he pulled the hood on his cloak back a bit so he could be heard and seen more clearly, though he felt the cold more keenly.  Estel smiled as he greeted them.

            “Good morning, ladies.”

            The youngest girl, Héthurin, giggled at being called lady, but the older girls murmured good morning in reply. 

            “Are you on your way to take care of the animals?”

            “Yes, my lord,” the oldest girl, Miniel, answered, staring at her feet as she walked through the snow.

            “Have you had any problems with them?”

            “Just that the sheep like to run away sometimes,” Héthurin replied with a smile that Estel returned.

            “I do remember what that is like.”  He looked at the three girls closely and saw that the older two were drawn and pale and he grieved for them, yet he knew not what to do for them… he knew there really was nothing he could do.  Though the three lived together, Héthurin at least had her mother to care for her while her father was on patrol and though she undoubtedly grieved for her younger brother, it was not the same as losing a parent as well as a brother.

            “Do you enjoy living in my house?” he asked for lack of anything else to say, not really comfortable talking with young ladies.

            The girls stopped and looked at him in surprise.  “That’s your house?” Miniel asked.

            “Well, I was born there but I only lived there until I was two,” Estel shrugged.  “So, it is mine because it was my father’s, but I guess what I am really asking is… do you like it here in Dolomar?  Have you met some of the other young ladies?”

            All three girls looked at each other and, again, Miniel answered, so quietly that Estel had to strain to hear her.  “It’s a nice village, my lord, but it’s not home.”

            Her younger sister, Tadiel, interrupted her, “Taurnand wasn’t home anymore either, Miniel.  Not since…” she bit her lip and looked away.

            “I am sorry for your pain and wish there were something I could do to ease your burden.”

            “At least you talk to us,” Héthurin mumbled.  Miniel pulled on her friend’s cloak and shushed her, but Estel heard her comment anyway.

            Estel frowned.  “What do you mean?  Do the other girls or young ladies not speak with you?”

            “I’m sure they would, Lord Aragorn,” Miniel gave Héthurin an annoyed look, “it’s just that we haven’t seen them very often.  But we’ve only been here a little over a week and I’m sure we’ll have more time soon.”

            “When?”  Estel raised his eyebrow in question as he realized that the job of taking care of the animals had deprived the girls of any time to meet the girls of the village.  These three were gone from soon after dawn until close to nightfall and with any other chores they might have it left them no time for other activities.  He would have to find some way to give them time to meet with the other girls, if any of the people from Taurnand needed to meet with and feel comfortable here, it was these three girls.  The older two girls especially needed a place that was welcoming and warm to them.

            None of the girls answered his question, staring at the ground instead.  “I will find a way for you to have time away from caring for the animals, ladies.”  They looked up at him with hopeful, though guarded expressions.  “It may take me a day or two to figure something out, but I will do it.  You need to know the others of this village, I want it to be your home and somewhere you feel comfortable and I am sorry that I did not think of it before.”

            “B-but someone needs to care for our animals,” Miniel protested.  “It’s our duty to do that, my lord.”

            “And it is my duty, Lady Miniel, to see that my people are taken care of.  And that includes making sure that you three have a chance to know the other people of this village.  You will never feel a part of Dolomar if you do not know the people, especially the ones that are near your age.”  Estel smiled at them.

            “Thank you,” Héthurin grinned, while Miniel and Tadiel were more restrained, but no less sincere in their thanks.

            “I will walk with you to the pens as I am going to the stables,” Estel offered and the four of them walked on with Estel sharing some of the things that he knew about the village with the girls.

0-0-0

            “What are you making?”

            “It is supposed to be a whistle,” Estel scowled down at the wood he was attempting to whittle into a whistle as a Mettarë gift for Balrant.

            Halbarad gingerly sat down beside him on the log that had been carefully wiped clear of snow.  “It doesn’t appear to be a whistle,” he observed with a grin.

            Estel flipped the wood aside and sheathed his belt knife with a deep sigh.  “I am not very good at carving things like that,” he admitted with a rueful smile.  “I never had much time to do such things when I was young.  I was always reading or studying with Adar and then I started my training and I just…” he shrugged.

            Halbarad picked up the cast aside wood and looked it over.  “You could, perhaps, make it into a very short spear,” his eyes twinkled as he glanced sidelong at his cousin.  “That wouldn’t take much work and would be much easier.”

            Ignoring him, Estel tried to think of something else he could give to the little boy.  He also needed to come up with a gift for his grandmother for the Mettarë festival they were celebrating in a week, but he pushed that thought aside for now, trying to concentrate on one gift at a time.  He watched with amusement as Halbarad began whittling on the piece of wood.  Leaning back against the tree behind him, Estel asked, “Are you going to give Balrant the whistle?”

            “No, I just thought I would help my Chieftain in this very difficult skill that he has not mastered.”  Halbarad did not look up from the wood.  “I’ve heard that Nestad is quite good at whittling, perhaps he would have time to teach you, my Lord Aragorn,” he glanced sidelong at Aragorn with a sly grin.

            “You do know that I can have you…” Estel paused and narrowed his eyes in thought.  “Well, I am not sure what a suitable punishment would be for being so disrespectful to your lord, but if I think on it, I will come up with something.  Banishment, perhaps?”  He chuckled for a moment and straightened up on the log.  “And, I can do some carving, just, simpler things.”  Estel picked up a handful of dry branches that were each about an inch and a half across.  All the bark had been stripped from the branches and they had been neatly smoothed.

            “What are those for?”

            “These are to make the markers for a game called draughts I am making for the children of the village.  I played it when I was quite young,” Estel gave a wistful smile.  He looked down at the branches, rubbing his thumb along the smooth surface, “I still have to cut these into the right sizes and Mellonar is making a flat board for me so that I can finish it.  I thought the children might enjoy it,” he shrugged.  “I have never seen them play games like this, though I know they do not have the time that I did for such things.”

            “You miss them, do you not?”

            “Yes,” Estel sighed.  “The festival is making it difficult, I think, even though among the elves Mettarë is not celebrated until March.  But, it is a special day and it makes me think of Naneth and Adar and my brothers.  And, I am not as busy as I was, Halbarad, and that gives me more time to think of them as well.  I will be all right, but I miss them right now.”

            “Go and see them.”

            Estel shook his head, “No, I will not see them for a long time.  My place is here now amongst my people and it would not be good for me to go back and forth, it would make it harder, I think.”

            “I suppose it would.  I thought, perhaps…”

            “I feel very much at home with you and your parents,” Estel interrupted him, seeing the look in Halbarad’s eye.  “I think you know that, but it is not the same.”

            “No, it wouldn’t be… it isn’t something I can imagine.  I think about being gone from here and being with the Rangers, but then I will be coming back home here to my naneth and adar and to the village I’ve lived in all my life.  You won’t have that.”

            Estel gave a single nod and looked away as he spoke quietly.  “No, but it seems to be the life that was… destined for me for some reason.  Remember I told you as we journeyed to Taurnand that my life would be unsettled for a long time.  Though how long that is, I do not know.”

            “Well, considering how long the Dúnedain live, it could be a very long time,” Halbarad grinned.  “Forgive me,” he quickly apologized at the pained look that Estel shot him. 

            “It is not something that I have any control over, nor do I really know what it means.  It is just an impression that I have… a very strong impression… of living an unsettled type of life.” 

            “All Rangers have unsettled lives.”

            “It is more than that, I think, but I do not know how or why it is different.”

            “Then, I suppose you just have to see what happens and not be concerned about it until then.”

            “That is your counsel?” Estel asked with a small smile.

            “Well, do you have a better suggestion?”

            “No, I do not, and I will take your counsel, it is not something that I can be concerned about right now.  I have to lead my people and it just may be that that is what will cause my life to be unsettled.”  Estel shrugged, “Or, something else may happen that I cannot see right now and I will deal with that when it happens.”  Cold and weary of the discussion, he stood brushing the small clumps of snow from his cloak as he did so.  He glanced at the whistle that Halbarad still held, “Are you going to finish that for me?”

            “Yes, I will.”

            “Thank you.  What are you going to give grandmother?”

            Halbarad shrugged, “Naneth is making something for her, but I don’t know what it is.  I don’t give her something just from me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            Estel nodded, absently tapping the bundle of branches he held in the palm of his hand.  “I do not know what to give her… what to make for her.  Do you have any suggestions?”

            “No, but you could ask Adar or Naneth, they might know something she’d like.”

            “I hope so,” he murmured.  “I would like to give her something.  Well, I am cold and I have other things I need to do.”  Estel started back towards the village with Halbarad falling into step alongside him.

            “I think the children will appreciate having a game like this… whatever kind of game it is,” he smiled as he gestured towards the branches.

            “I will teach you how to play it; it is a very simple game.  If you practice you might be able to beat the children.”  Estel laughed softly as he remembered his own childhood.  “There was a fancy draughts set in the Hall of Fire, along with a few other games, and I would be allowed to play in there sometimes.  But Elrohir made me a small set of my own and I would carry it with me into Glorfindel’s office or Erestor’s office and they would always stop what they were doing and play one game with me.”  He smiled.  “That was the rule, one game, even if I begged them, which I soon learned did not work with them, though it did with Adar.  He could be talked into three or four games.  I suppose it depended on how busy he was.”

            “Or, how much he sensed you needed to spend time with him.”

            Estel gave a thoughtful nod as they approached the gate.

            “What about your brothers?”

            “When they were there, they would, of course, play this game and others with me.  Naneth, too.”

            “Were they gone often?” Halbarad looked at Estel in surprise, he had assumed Elladan and Elrohir had always been in Imladris when he was growing up.

            Greeting the boys on guard duty at the gate with a smile, it took Estel a moment to answer Halbarad.  “They were often gone for months at a time when I was quite young, but they were almost always home after I turned seven.”

            “I cannot imagine not having other children to play with.”

            “And I cannot imagine having them to play with.  It is just how it was,” Estel shrugged.  “But, I had my adar with me every day as I grew and you did not… these children do not,” he gestured at the young children who were playing in the freshly fallen snow.  He smiled at Balrant who appeared to be building some type of stockade with his friends.

            “No, and actually my adar was home probably…”  Halbarad stopped as an anxious looking Rían approached.

            “Lord Aragorn, Halbarad, have you seen Celin or Culas?”

            Shaking his head, Estel turned and looked over the children they had just walked past, but the twins were not with there, though as he quickly counted them he realized that all of the children between the ages of five and ten were there, except for the twins.  The day was not the bitter cold it had been and after several days cooped up inside the children seemed to be enjoying playing outside.  He turned back to Rían.  “When did you last see them?”

            “They were playing here with the children and I went inside for just a few minutes and now they are gone.  Where could they be?”  Rían bit her lip and looked around anxiously, not knowing where to even start looking in this village.

            Estel exchanged a puzzled glance with Halbarad as he wondered why Rían was so concerned if the children had only been gone for a few minutes.  Though, it was Celin and Culas so he supposed anything could happen in a very short amount of time.  “I am sure they are nearby, Lady Rían,” he said gently.  “We will go and ask the other children.”  Estel led the way over to where the children were playing and he watched Rían from the corner of his eye, noticing she was still limping slightly on the leg that had been broken.  The children paused in their play and looked up as the three adults drew near.

            “Where are Celin and Culas?” Estel asked, looking first at the oldest children and then his gaze moving on to the younger ones, including Balrant who simply smiled before looking to the oldest girl who was answering the question.

            “They went to find something…” she frowned as she tried to remember what they had said.  “They wanted it for that thing that are making,” she gestured to a pile of snow and even Estel could not figure out what it was supposed to be.  “Celin said they were coming right back, my lord.”

            “Did you see which way they were headed?”  The girl shook her head.

            “They went to the stables, Aragorn!”

            “Thank you, Balrant,” Estel said with a small smile as one of the older boys reminded Balrant to address him as lord.  He turned to Rían.  “Shall we go to the stables and see what they are doing?”

            “I will go, my lord.  There is no need to trouble yourself further now that I know where they are,” Rían replied, embarrassed that she had not simply asked the other children herself.

            “It is no trouble.”  He glanced at Halbarad, “Would you mind taking these home?” he held out the bundle of branches.  “I will return shortly.”  Halbarad took the branches with a small nod and, with one last slightly puzzled look at Rían from the corner of his eye, he headed for home.

            Estel carefully shortened his stride as he walked alongside Rían to the stables in search of the children, and he noticed that, in spite of the slight limp, she did not appear to be in any pain.  “How do you fare, Lady Rían?  Do you like it here?” he asked, concerned about the way she had responded to her children being missing for only a few minutes.  It was not that the twins could not get into mischief quite quickly, but there was something about the way she was acting that hinted that she was bothered by much more than just the children.

            “I’m well, my lord.  I-I like it here.  The women have been very kind to me and…” Rían took a deep breath and looked away, not wanting to tell him of her fears.

            Estel grew increasingly alarmed as he saw her eyes fill with tears.  “What troubles you, then?” he asked softly.  He stopped in his tracks and watched in shock as tears began flowing down her cheeks.  Uncertain as to what to do to comfort or help her, Estel looked around helplessly.  Finally he decided that perhaps a woman could help her where he could not and he was about to suggest that she go and see Laereth and Linnor when Rían spoke.

            “Forgive me, Lord Aragorn,” she said with a deep and weary sigh.  “I did not mean…”

            “There is nothing to forgive,” he replied.  “I think that you should go and see Laereth and I will find Celin and Culas and bring them to you.  Perhaps you might speak to her about what is on your heart.” 

            “You will find them?” Rían asked anxiously, her eyes brimming with tears once again.

            “Yes, I will,” Estel promised and he watched as she took a deep breath before turning and making her way slowly towards the house where Laereth now lived with her sister.  His brow furrowed in thought as he turned towards the stables to find the twins.  He quickly found them poking around in the tack room, though he could not tell what they were searching for as they chattered back and forth.  Leaning against the door jamb, he observed them for a few minutes to see if they appeared out of sorts or upset.  But the two of them appeared to be behaving in what he considered their normal manner.  Celin suddenly saw him standing in the doorway and she froze, giving him a tentative smile.

            “Hello, Lord Aragorn.”  At his sister’s words, Culas twirled around and stared at Estel.

            “Celin, Culas,” Estel said with a small smile.  “What are you looking for?  Can I help you find it?”

            Both children relaxed and Culas answered carefully.  “We need a long piece of leather to help us with our snow village…”

            “And some pieces of wood,” Celin added.

            “I see,” Estel nodded.  “And did you ask anyone if you could take those things from the stable?”

            “No, my lord,” Culas said, shaking his head, “but at home we were allowed to take such things…”

            “If it wasn’t part of a bridle or a saddle,” Celin finished.  “We know not to take things that are being used.  We’re looking for things that no one wants.”  Culas nodded.

            “Good, I am glad to hear that and as this is now your home then as long as you only take things that are not being used, I will allow that as well.  However,” Estel cautioned them, “you must promise me that you will not go into the stalls of the horses.  Is that understood?” he eyed each of them sternly until they nodded.  “Now, I came to get you because your nana was concerned and I told her that I would find you.  Come along.”  He turned to go, expecting them to follow.

            “Is she all right?” Celin asked anxiously, not moving.

            Hearing the slight quaver in her voice, Estel glanced back to see that neither child had moved and were watching him with widened, anxious eyes and, again, he was perplexed.  He walked over and crouched down in front of them.  “She seemed upset,” he said, not really sure what to say to them.  “But otherwise she appeared to be well.  She is waiting for you with Lady Laereth and Lady Linnor.”

            “She has been upset a lot lately,” Culas informed him matter-of-factly, ignoring the look Celin gave him.

            “Do you know why?”

            Culas shook his head, but Celin stared at the ground for a moment and then met Estel’s eyes for a long moment as she thought about whether she should tell him.  But he had saved her life… all of their lives.  And he was the Chieftain and so she decided she could trust him and maybe he could even help her nana.  “She has bad dreams,” she whispered.  Estel gave her an encouraging nod and she continued, grabbing Culas’s hand for comfort.  “I-I hear her crying sometimes at night and she says things when she’s sleeping about… orcs,” Celin swallowed hard, “… and fire.”  Tears began trickling down her face and not knowing what else to do, Estel gently embraced her with one arm as she cried, putting his other hand on Culas’s shoulder.

            All of Rían’s earlier concerns now made sense to Estel.  She wanted her children kept under close watch to keep them from further danger.  Evidently Hirgon’s presence on the journey here or the fact that she had not been fully recovered then had kept these fears at bay.  Or, perhaps, it was the fact that she was now sleeping in a house again that brought the memories flooding back.  Estel sighed inwardly at this new pain she was suffering.

            After a few minutes, Celin’s tears slowed and she pulled away from Estel, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.  Looking from her grief stricken face to Culas’s shocked one, Estel wondered how she knew and he did not and why she had not told her brother, though he knew it really did not matter.  “Celin, do you have such dreams?”  She gave such a quick shake of her head without meeting his eyes that Estel wondered if it was the truth, but he did not press her for now, it was something that he would speak with Nestad about.  He looked at Culas, “Do you?”

            “No.”

            “Thank you for telling me, Celin, though I know it was hard for you to do so.  I know that there are things that will make it easier for her, though it may take some time.  Will you trust me enough to let me tell some of the other adults, like Nestad and Lady Laereth, so that they may help her as well?”

            “Yes, my lord,” the twins said in unison.

            “Then I will do so.  Now, we must not keep your nana waiting any longer.”  He quickly left the stables with the children trotting at his heels.

0-0-0

            Estel sat at the table, occasionally speaking with Nimrie, but mostly lost in his own thoughts as he smoothed the markers for the draughts game he was making.  The day had seemed long already, even now in mid-afternoon.  He had gone hunting early with Gilost and they had had to travel many miles before catching even a glimpse of tracks in the new fallen snow.  Gilost had brought down a fine buck, but that is all they had been able to find for their hours of effort.  They had arrived back in the village later than usual and Gilost had taken care of the deer meat while Estel had gone immediately back out with Halbarad to do some scouting before returning to work with the boys on their swords skills.  That was something he usually enjoyed, but today he had been somewhat short with them which made him annoyed with himself.  He knew he would need to apologize to the boys and probably should not have gone today when he was so preoccupied with thoughts of Rían and the children, but he had thought it would be a good way to take his mind off the situation.  Estel was frustrated at his failure in not seeing her fears earlier and his inability to help her now.  Though, it did appear that speaking with Laereth was helping her in some way. 

            As Nimrie sat near the fire sewing she occasionally glanced at Aragorn with concern, though he was so busy with his own thoughts that he never noticed.  A knock on the door startled them both and as Nimrie rose to answer it, Estel suppressed a sigh at the interruption and prepared to cover the markers with a cloth.  He was hoping it was one of the women coming to see Nimrie, but it was Nestad and he relaxed back in his chair.

            “Hello, Nimrie.  Is Lord Aragorn here?”

            Nimrie returned his greeting and invited him in with a smile.  “Would you like some tea?”

            “Yes, thank you,” Nestad replied as he crossed the room to the table, studying Aragorn as he approached.  “Good afternoon, my lord,” he said as he sat in a chair opposite him.

            “Nestad,” Estel nodded, idly turning one of the markers in his hand.

            “What are these?” Nestad picked up one of the finished markers, noting the smooth finish and the cross mark that was carved on one side.  He gave Aragorn a questioning look.

            “Markers for a game called draughts,” he gestured to the board leaning against the wall behind him that he had painstakingly finished by neatly carving in crossing lines to make squares and then coloring every other square black by carefully using a dye that Nimrie normally used for cloth.  “It is for the children,” Estel explained.

            Nestad’s eyes softened as he looked at his Chieftain.  “I see.  I have not heard of this game,” he admitted, “but, I seem to remember hearing of a game with a board like that… what was it called?”  He furrowed his brow in thought.

            “Chess?”

            “Yes, I do believe that was it.  I can’t remember where I heard of it; it was years ago now, but the person telling me about it made it sound interesting.”

            “It is a wonderful game, Nestad, and you would probably enjoy it.  If I had the time, I would make the pieces for that as well.”  Estel gave the healer a rueful smile, “And, if I was a little better at whittling.  The pieces are much more difficult to carve than this.”

            “Perhaps you should draw out what they look like and I could carve them, I certainly have the time right now,” Nestad offered and Estel nodded.  “Which brings me to the point of my visit, my lord.”  He smiled his thanks at Nimrie as she set a cup of tea beside him.  “I do have quite a bit of time and thought perhaps I could help by doing some hunting or scouting for you.  I know the additional people have added a burden to you and the others and I’d like to help.  There has been little need for my healing skills and with you and Nimrie both here, I think I could be gone for a few hours with it harming anyone.”

            Estel gave the older man a dubious look as he responded slowly.  “I suppose it would free up some of the men for other things or allow us to scout further afield.  I did not ask for your help because of your… age.”

            Nestad snorted.  “I’m perfectly capable of going hunting or scouting if that is what you need.  I’m not even ninety years old!  I’d still be out with the other Rangers if our healer hadn’t died.  There just wasn’t anyone else to take her place that had any sort of training.”

            “How did she die?” Nimrie asked from her place by the fire.  She had wondered what had happened to the previous healer as it was rare amongst the Dúnedain to have a man become a healer.

            “She died of a wasting sickness that lingered for several years.  I tried everything that I knew, but there was nothing that seemed to help.”  Nestad glanced at Aragorn, “Perhaps if you had been there…”

            “I do not think I could have done much more than you except ease her pain a bit now that I know how to use this healing sleep.  But there is no cure for a wasting sickness that I know of.”

            “What is this healing sleep?”  Nimrie moved from her spot near the fire and joined them at the table, the talk about healing gaining her interest.

            Estel returned to smoothing one of the markers as he sought the words to explain to his aunt what exactly healing sleep entailed.  “It is a… gift of my ancestry that allows me to send injured people into a very deep sleep and it enhances the healing process.  When I was in Taurnand I used it on some of the people that were badly burned.”

            “And this truly helped them?”

            “It saved Rían’s life,” Nestad stated empathically.  “It also sped the healing process for several of the others that were quite seriously injured.”  He saw the flash of frustration cross Aragorn’s face at the mention of Rían’s name and he leaned back in his chair watching Aragorn with hooded eyes as Nimrie asked another question.

            “How does it work?”

            “I am not really sure,” Estel confessed slowly.  “Adar explained what he could several years ago and I had mostly forgotten about it until I was in Taurnand.  I-I just… somehow I can sense them or connect with them in some way and I am able to… almost,” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “It is… I know what they are feeling and somehow I can soothe them and send them into a very deep sleep which seems to help them heal more rapidly.”  Estel shrugged and gave Nimrie an apologetic look.  “That is the best way that I can explain it to you.”

            Nimrie was starting to respond when Nestad abruptly broke in, though his voice was low.  “My lord, I also came to speak with you about Rían and her children.  Since Rían spoke with Laereth and Linnor two days ago she is sleeping better and seems a bit calmer.”

            Surprised at the interruption and change in topic, Estel stared blankly at him for a moment and then responded slowly.  “I am glad to hear that.  I was hoping they would be able to help her.”

            “As you did not?” Nestad asked softly, his gaze sharp and piercing as he stared at the younger man.

            Estel looked away from the healer after a moment and then nodded once, running his hand through his hair.  “I should have seen that she was having such difficulties or at least thought that she might have such dreams.  She could have been helped earlier and…”

            “My Lord Aragorn,” Nestad interrupted him with an almost stern voice and Estel jerked his eyes back to him in surprise.  “You cannot take the blame for not seeing that Rían was suffering from these dreams and fears.  No one is at fault for this; she did not tell anyone of her troubles either.”

            “It is my responsibility to see to the needs of my people, Nestad,” Estel hissed angrily, his frustration at himself coming out.

            “In a general sense that is true,” Nestad agreed calmly.  “But you cannot stop every illness or tragic thing from happening to the Dúnedain either.  It is not possible.  If a child falls from a tree and breaks an arm, are you going to take responsibility for that as well?  Perhaps you should have had the tree cut down before the child could be injured.”

            “That is hardly the same thing and you know it!”

            “It is exactly the same thing, my lord.  You cannot anticipate every situation ahead of time that might cause your people to be hurt in some way, nor can you be expected to solve every problem that comes to our people, though I know you will do your best to do so.”  Nestad leaned forward, drawing closer to his still frustrated, but closely listening Chieftain.  He lowered and softened his voice.  “My lord, you have a compassionate heart and I know that it is difficult for you to see your people suffering, it is difficult for me as well.”  Nestad paused briefly and took a deep breath before continuing.  “You will have to find a way, Aragorn,” he deliberately did not use his title, “to take responsibility for only those things you are truly responsible for, and to steel your heart against the suffering you see and deal with it without losing that compassion.  It is not an easy thing to do.  But if you do not learn how to do this, my lord, it will break you.  You will live far too long and the burden will become too great for you too bear.”

            “I cannot just turn a blind eye to what I see or what I feel, Nestad,” Estel replied quietly, looking at the healer now.

            “No, no, you cannot because that would make you into a shell of a man without a care for your people and you know that is not what I am saying.  There is a way to see the hurt your people are enduring, to help them through it, and then let it go.  When you realized what Rían was suffering, you got her the help that she needed and now you let it go and move on, though of course you will check on her… that is your healer’s heart.  But you do not blame yourself for not seeing it earlier, my lord.  That was out of your control and not something you were responsible for.”

            Estel slowly nodded his head and tipped back in his chair, absently playing with several of the markers as he pondered the words Nestad had spoken. 

            “He’s right, Aragorn,” Nimrie said after a few moments of silence.

            “I know, but… “ Estel glanced between the two of them, “It will take me some time to think through what you have said.  It will not be an easy thing for me to do.  I am already used to thinking and seeing myself as solely responsible for everything… everyone here.”  He gave a small laugh and then said wryly, “That sounds rather arrogant, does it not?”

            “It sounds like someone who takes his duty seriously,” Nestad replied with a small smile.

            “I do, but I will try and heed your words, Nestad.  Thank you, and forgive me for taking my anger out on your earlier.”

            Nestad stood, shaking his head, “It’s all right, my lord, I understood it.  I need to go, let me know when you want me to go out hunting or scouting.”

            “I will, though it will probably be a couple of days.”

            Nestad nodded and after thanking Nimrie for the tea, he wrapped his cloak around himself and headed back out into the cold.

0-0-0

            Estel stood looking down at the books lying on his bed trying to decide which one to give to his grandmother.  It was all he had been able to think of as a Mettarë gift for her, but he hated the thought of parting with any of them.  All had been carefully chosen as he could carry so little with him.  He was already giving his book on herb lore to Nimrie, deciding that she would most enjoy that and it would be a help to her.  Sighing softly, he picked up a red leather bound book and rifled through the pages before setting it aside, deciding a book on the history of Gondor was probably not something she would enjoy, the same with the history of Harad, setting that book on top of the other.  That left three and one was in Sindarin and, as he was not sure she could read that, he added it to the stack he was keeping.   One of the remaining books was a book of poetry and the other was a book of tales of elvish heroes that had been a favorite of his when he was young and he had added it to those he was bringing with him at the last minute.  He had read and reread the book so many times when he was growing up that it had just seemed right to bring it with him.  For that reason alone Estel did not want to part with it, nor did he think his grandmother would enjoy it.  That left the book of poetry and he picked the small book up and flipped through it, stopping at a few places to read some of the poems.  Well, he hoped she liked poetry as much as he did.  He set it with the other gifts he had set aside for his family before putting the rest of the books away.

            Nimrie had given him some cloth and he carefully wrapped the two books before looking at the gifts he had for Halbarad and Halhigal.  Picking up the knife he had for Halbarad, he pulled it halfway out of the sheath and looked at the elvish lettering and designs that had been etched into the blade and he nodded with satisfaction.  At least this one gift he knew would be appreciated he thought as he re-sheathed.  It was a spare knife that he had brought with him and it was something he knew he could live without.  For his uncle he had a new leather belt pouch.  He had noticed Halhigal’s pouch was quite old and worn and Estel knew his uncle needed one for his pipe and pipe-weed and things of that nature.  Estel quickly wrapped those gifts and, leaving them on his bed, he walked out of his room where the rest of his family was waiting and greeted him warmly on this cold Mettarë morning.

            The Mettarë customs of the Dúnedain were simple and in some respects did not differ greatly than that of the elves.  At least, not in spirit.  Individual families spent time together during the day and celebrated the festival as they so chose.  Late in the afternoon the whole village would gather in the Hall for a time of music, dancing, a meal, and the evening would end with a large bonfire to celebrate the end of the old year and the start of the new.  Estel had been alarmed when he had heard there would be dancing when they gathered but he had been assured that no one would expect him to dance this first year.  Although, he had seen a slight twinkle in Halbarad’s eyes that made him wonder if that were really true.  There was no way he could get out of attending that part of the festival, however, and so he would just have to wait and see what would happen.  As he did not know any of the dances of the Dúnedain, he had no intention of dancing regardless of what was expected, but he did not want to appear unwilling to participate in the customs of his people either.

            After breakfast was eaten and Nimrie bustled around with a smile on her face fixing a mid-day Mettarë meal that was the first one her husband had been at in years, Estel taught Halbarad and Halhigal how to play draughts.  They laughed and told stories as they played, Halhigal sharing stories of Arathorn and of both of Estel’s grandfathers while Estel spoke of his years in Imladris.  Both Halbarad and Nimrie chimed in with their own stories of life in Dolomar and Nimrie spoke of growing up in the village of Forntaur.  The morning passed pleasantly and as the time for the mid-day meal approached, Halhigal threw on his cloak and left to help his naneth walk through the snow back to the house.  Mettarë was one of the few times that she chose to eat with her family.

            “She will be somewhat… downhearted today,” Halbarad told Estel as soon as his father left.  “This day she always feels most deeply those she has lost.”

            “I imagine so,” he replied, continuing to stare into the fire and knowing how the festival was affecting him and he was only missing his family, not mourning those who had died.

            The two young men stood to greet their grandmother as she came in and Estel immediately saw that Halbarad was right, that there was an aura of sadness around her.  “Good afternoon, Grandmother,” he said, inclining his head and then hesitantly reaching for her hand but quickly withdrawing when he saw her move her arm back.

            “Good afternoon, Grandmother,” Halbarad echoed.

            Ivorwen looked from one to the other and gave them a small nod, “Mettarë greetings, boys,” she replied as she moved past them to speak with Nimrie.

            “Boys?” Halbarad mouthed silently to Estel who just shook his head.

            Halhigal leaned over and whispered, “She still calls me boy at times.”  He walked around them carrying several wrapped gifts which he placed near the hearth before taking a seat by the fire thoroughly enjoying the looks on their faces.  Estel and Halbarad joined him, both now more amused than anything else.  They talked quietly until the meal was ready and the five of them sat down to eat.  Nimrie had fixed a meal that was more elaborate than what was normally eaten.  She had made roast chicken with special herbs, fixed special breads, made a baked dish with potatoes and some of the dried vegetables that were carefully hoarded to last through the year.  She had also made a tart using dried apples.

            Estel enjoyed every bit of the meal, the chicken and the tart reminding him of things he had often had at home.  It was without question the best food he had eaten during his time with the Dúnedain and he ate more than he normally did, thankful that Nimrie had prepared extra.  He noticed that Halbarad and Halhigal did the same and his uncle made several comments to his wife about her cooking. His grandmother did not speak often as they ate, but was not totally withdrawn either and Estel even ventured a question or two which she answered without her usual curtness. 

            As the meal finished it was the time for the exchanging of gifts and Estel retrieved his from his room, hoping they would be well received.  As he returned to the table, he discovered that by family tradition he was the first to open his gifts as he was the youngest family member present and he grinned briefly.  “I was always the youngest at home, too… by many years.”  Ivorwen scowled briefly, but made no comment.  Estel started to laugh as he opened the gift from Halbarad, “You really want me to smoke, do you not?”

            “I know it is something you will use someday even if you don’t use it right now.”

He turned the beautiful hand carved pipe over and over in his hands before looking at the pouch that contained the sweet smelling pipe-weed.  “Thank you.  Did you make this?”

            “Yes, I enjoying whittling,” Halbarad said with a grin that Estel returned.

            Nimrie slid a package across the table to him and Estel could tell it was some type of clothing item and he opened it to find a new tunic in a dark green color that had been simply decorated with designs of leaves, and there was also a pair of warm leather gloves.  He looked to his aunt and uncle and smiled.  “Thank you both very much.  My gloves are about worn out and I can always use a new tunic,” he said, fingering the material and looking closely at the design.

            “You’re welcome,” Nimrie replied with a pleased smile.  “I’m just glad that your grandmother had your measurements so that I know it’ll fit.”

            “I am glad also,” Estel murmured, looking at his grandmother who simply nodded and then with the slightest of hesitations handed him a large square package she had retrieved from near the hearth before sitting back down with a worried expression that confused Estel.

            “I didn’t know what to give you, Aragorn, and then I remembered this and thought you might like to have it.”

            “I am sure I will like whatever you chose for me.”

            “Just open it,” she ordered gruffly.  She had worried about the gift for several days and now she just wanted to see if he would like it.

            Opening the string that held the cloth together, Estel found a beautiful stool.  It was small, but was a stool that could be drawn up close to a fire so that you could really feel the warmth of it on a winter morning.  The stool was very well made and was intricately carved with flowers and birds.  “Thank you, Grandmother,” he smiled.  He was sincere in his thanks because it was a beautiful piece of furniture, but Estel was puzzled by the gift.

            “You do like it, then?” Ivorwen asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone and eyes as she watched him run his hand over the surface of the stool.  Estel nodded.  Sighing, she explained the gift to him, watching him closely as she did so.  “I’m giving that to you because your father made that for your mother before they were married.”  Estel simply stared at her and then down at the stool he was now gripping tightly.  “Arathorn would sit in a chair by the fire,” she continued softly, “and Gilraen would often sit on the floor by him and…” she took a deep breath and looked away briefly.  “Anyway, he made her this stool so that she wouldn’t have to sit on the floor.  Of course, she couldn’t take anything with her when she left,” Ivorwen’s eyes flashed angrily for a moment at Halhigal, but he just met her gaze steadily and she looked down and then back to Estel.  “When you left, most of Gilraen’s things came to me, though none of it was very special, but I thought that this was something you should have.”

            Estel eyes filled with tears that he quickly blinked away as he stared down at this stool that his father had made.  He had never thought to hold something that his father had made with his hands; he did not even know he could do such things.  Of course he had the star brooch he wore and the sword that was still hidden under his bed, but this was something personal, something his parents had shared between them.  He swallowed hard and looked back at his grandmother.  “Thank you, I will treasure this.”  She did not respond, but Estel could see the relieved, yet pleased expression in her eyes.  He was so caught up in the gift that he missed what Halbarad received for gifts until his cousin nudged him with his elbow.

            “Didn’t you get me anything?”

            “What? Oh, yes, of course, I did.  Forgive me, Halbarad, my thoughts were elsewhere.”  Estel handed him the package.

            “I know,” Halbarad patted Estel on the back before opening the gift.  Halbarad’s eyes widened as he pulled out the knife that had been made in the forge in Imladris.  He looked from the knife to Estel and back to the knife.  “It’s a beautiful blade,” he breathed as he pulled it from the sheath and looked at the designs etched into it.  “Thank you, Aragorn.”

            “I thought you would like it and that blade will last you a lifetime.”  Estel watched with amusement as Halbarad immediately stood and took off his old knife and slid the new one onto his belt.  Glancing at his uncle he saw the same look in his eyes.

            Halhigal and Nimrie did not exchange gifts and so Estel handed them the ones he had selected.  As he hoped, Halhigal was pleased with the belt pouch, and just as Halbarad had done with his knife, he immediately replaced his old pouch with the new.  Nimrie did not say much as she opened her book on herb lore but her eyes lit up as she began turning pages and reading about the various herbs and what they were used for.

            Halhigal and Nimrie gave Ivorwen a warm shawl and socks that Nimrie had made from wool.  The last gift to be opened was Estel’s gift to his grandmother and his hesitation as he handed it to her was almost as great as the hesitation she had shown when she had given him his gift.  That it was a book was obvious and she said that as she took it from his hands.

            “A book?”

            “Yes, like you, I was not sure what you might enjoy, but I am hoping that you might enjoy this book.”

            Ivorwen peered at him closely, seeing his nervousness and gave an abrupt nod before opening the package.  The book was well bound with a dark blue cover and she slowly opened it and began looking through it and quickly realized it was poetry and she paused, surprised.  She knew that Aragorn would have brought this from Imladris with him and so it was probably special to him and that he would like poetry surprised her for some reason.  Ivorwen raised her eyes and gave him a questioning look.  “You enjoy poetry?”

            “Yes, I do, it is something I have been reading since I was quite young and…” his voice trailed off.  All elves that he knew enjoyed poetry, but perhaps it was different amongst the Dúnedain he thought with an inward sigh.

            “Hmmm, well thank you, Aragorn.  I haven’t read much poetry myself, but I’ll try it.  Perhaps when I’m finished I’ll return it to you,” she watched him carefully and saw a look of dismay cross his face.

            “But it is a gift, grandmother!”

            “I have no need of such books,” she gave a small snort.  “No, Aragorn, I do thank you, but I know this book is precious to you or you wouldn’t have brought it with you.  I will read it and enjoy it, but I will give it back.”  Her voice had softened only slightly, but enough that Estel heard it.

            “Then, I thank you,” he said inclining his head.  “I do hope you enjoy it though.”

            With the exchange of gifts finished, Ivorwen took her leave of them and Halhigal helped her home so that she could prepare some dish that she was making for the supper that evening.  The rest of them spent the afternoon either talking, playing draughts, and, in the case of Estel and Nimrie, going through the book of herb lore and discussing various treatments the herbs could be used for.

0-0-0

            Supper was over when Estel pulled Balrant aside, crouching in front of the boy.  “I have a small gift for you,” he said quietly, handing him the whistle.

            “You made me a whistle?” Balrant asked, eyes wide and sparkling.

            “I did the best I could,” he replied, which was the truth, if not the whole truth.

            “Thank you,” he threw his arms around Estel’s neck and hugged him tightly. 

            “You are very welcome.”  He carefully pried the boy’s arms off so he could breathe.  “You are not to play that in here, however.  You must wait until you are outside.”

            “I will,” he turned and ran off to show it to his friends and Estel watched him go with a fond smile. 

            Estel then gathered Celin, Culas, and other boys and girls about their age around a table and set the board and pouch of markers on the table.  Some of the older boys and girls gathered around behind them, watching curiously over the younger children’s shoulders.  “Now, I made this game for all of the children of the village and I expect you to take turns playing and to play fairly,” he said, looking from face to face as some of the bolder children reached out and touched the board.

            “What’s it called?” Culas asked.

            “Draughts and I played it often when I was quite young.”  He took out the markers and there were oohs and aahs as the round pieces of wood came tumbling out of the pouch, half of them were colored a deep red.  “I made extra of each color, you only need twelve on each side.”  Estel went on to set up the board and to explain how the game was played.  The game itself was very simple to play, though the strategy that was needed to play it well took time to learn.  As he continued to show them, he was unaware of the small number of adults that had also come to see what was happening.  After five or so minutes of explanation, Estel had Celin and Caladithil sit down and play the first game while he stood there and helped them play a game all the way through.  As they played, he finally looked around and he noticed that Alvist and the others of his age, both boys and girls, were watching and he smiled inwardly.  After the first game was over, Estel asked Caladithil if he would be willing to be in charge of the game, to make sure that everyone had a chance to play at least one game and he nodded his acceptance. 

            Several of the children thanked Estel as he walked away but most were too excited and he was just pleased that they were enjoying it so much already.  He hoped that it didn’t lead to conflict as he suddenly realized how long they would have to wait for their turn to play.  Well, patience was a good thing to learn he mused as he looked around for Halbarad or Gilost.  Spotting them speaking with Eradan he went to join them.  He was stopped on the way by several of the ladies of the village who thanked him for the gift to their children and he simply smiled in acknowledgement and walked on.  The gift of the game was a small thing in comparison to the things that he had received from the villagers.  Every family had come with some gift for him, socks, gloves, a belt pouch, even pipe-weed.  It seemed that everyone expected him to smoke, or perhaps they did not realize that he did not as yet.  It had been overwhelming and slightly embarrassing and made him look forward to next year when he would not be in the village for the festival.  Though he was also thankful for the gifts and the acceptance that it showed and he supposed that next year he would wish he were here and not out in some cold place searching for wolves or orcs.

            “They appear to be enjoying your game.”

            “Yes, even the older boys and girls will like it, I think.”

            Halbarad glanced over to where some of the men and women had gotten out their simple instruments and he gave his cousin a sly look.  “Are you ready for some dancing?”

            “I am not going to dance,” he stated adamantly.  “I do not know any of the dances of our people.”

            “They are not difficult, my lord,” Gilost said earnestly.  “I think that if you watch for a moment you’ll be able to do them easily enough.  I know my sister would like to dance with you… as would all of the other ladies, of course,” he added quickly.  He glanced around hoping Gaerwen had not heard him.

            Estel shook his head, refusing to even answer and when Eradan opened his mouth to speak, he simply glared at him and the younger man shut his mouth with an audible snap.  Halbarad, however, was not so easily put off.

            “But there are never enough men for all of the ladies that want to dance, my lord Aragorn.  They are reduced to dancing with each other most of the time.”  His eyes were twinkling as he watched his cousin shift uncomfortably, and with a deep sigh he relented… sort of.  “But, I suppose as the Chieftain you are allowed to dance or not as you choose.”

            “Halbarad,” Estel growled with annoyance.  “I am not dancing because I do not know the dances and that is the only reason.”  Halbarad smiled and did not respond.

            As the music started, Estel leaned back against the wall as the other three immediately went off to find partners for the first dance.  He watched the first few dances and saw all three of them dancing with different young ladies or with their own mothers.  He smiled as he watched young boys and girls dancing, and, as Halbarad had told him, girls dancing with each other.  Estel tried to ignore the curious looks cast his way, but he did see them, more by the older women than by the girls.  He straightened up on his bench when he saw his grandmother approaching and he suppressed a sigh when she sat down beside him without a word.  He knew why she was there and he thought desperately of a way to avoid the conversation she was about to start, but could not think of a way to leave without being disrespectful.

            “You should dance.”

            “I do not know the dances, Grandmother,” he kept his voice polite and respectful, despite her abrupt manner and tone.

            “I am sure that the dances of the elves are much more difficult than these and you could quite easily learn these.”

            “That is why I am watching, so that next time I will be able to do so.”  He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

            His grandmother made a small humph noise.  “I’ve raised four children, Aragorn, and have heard every excuse that you can possibly give me.  You will not get out of it that easily.”  She turned and looked directly at him and he finally had to look away from her steady regard.  “There is something else that holds you back from dancing,” she guessed shrewdly, her eyes narrowing as she observed him carefully, noting the slightest hint of color that rose on his cheeks under his scraggly beard that had not fully come in yet in one so young. 

            “You can dance with the older women if you are uncomfortable dancing with the ladies closer to your own age.  Nimrie, Linnor, Emeldir, Arthiell, and the others, those from Taurnand...”

            “I cannot dance with married women!  It is unseemly, Grandmother,” Estel gave her a horrified look, though he truly did not feel as strongly about dancing with married women as his words suggested, it did, however, provide a convenient excuse.

            “It is not unseemly, look out there and tell me who Halbarad is dancing with.”  Estel did not respond as he already knew that his cousin was dancing with both young and old women of the village.  His grandmother gave him another piercing look and then sighed deeply.  “It may have been unseemly among the elves, Aragorn, but not amongst the Dúnedain.  Not for a young man of your age.  You are twenty years old and won’t be looking to marry for at least another ten to fifteen years.  As long as you are dancing with many different ladies, no one will think that you are particularly interested in a certain one.”  Again, Estel did not respond, though his eyes narrowed as he watched the dancers, especially Halbarad, Eradan, and Gilost. 

            Ivorwen looked at him closely and then said quietly, “Perhaps I’ve said too much, but…” she shook her head slightly and did not finish what she had planned to say to her young grandson.

            “I will listen,” Estel said, turning slightly on the bench and facing her more directly.

            “You’re a good leader from what I’ve seen and from what I’ve heard.  But when I see you, I see my twenty year-old grandson, not the Lord or the Chieftain of the Dúnedain,” Ivorwen looked away briefly, biting her lip.  “I know that you have so many responsibilities, Aragorn, so many duties, so many things that will take you far from here.  Do not forget that I, too, have a measure of foresight, grandson,” her voice held a hint of grief and her eyes were piercing as she spoke those words and Estel wondered what she had seen, but she never told him.  “But that’s why I want to see you enjoying yourself at a festival like this or at anytime that chance allows you a rest from your duties.  It will not come often.”

            “No, I fear it will not,” Estel replied in a low voice, staring down at the floor as he considered her words.  Finally, he took a deep breath and stood, glancing around the room before looking down at his grandmother with an eyebrow raised in question.

            “I’m afraid not, Aragorn, my body is too old for dancing,” Ivorwen waved her hand dismissively.  “Nimrie isn’t dancing right now and she’d be someone to start with.”  Estel nodded and started to walk away when his grandmother called to him and he swung back around.  “Just remember that the girls are just as nervous about dancing with the Lord of the Dúnedain as you are about dancing with them.”

            “I am not nervous,” he protested, but she simply chuckled and Estel turned and walked off to speak with his aunt about dancing his first dance among his people.  Nimrie was sitting with some of the other women watching the dancing and he grimaced inwardly about having to ask her in front of all of them, though he supposed he would be asking some of them to dance later.  He set aside the thought that flashed through his mind of grabbing his horse and riding quickly back to Imladris; it was amusing but hardly helpful at the moment.  The conversation among the women stilled as Estel stopped next to Nimrie and he glanced around at the others.  “Forgive me for interrupting you,” he said politely before turning his gaze to his aunt.  “Would you be willing to dance with me?”

            Nimrie knew him well enough to hear the nervousness in his voice, though she doubted any of the other women caught it.  She smiled in response, “Yes, of course.”  She stood, taking his hand and walked a short distance away from the others while they waited for the current dance to end.  “They really are simple dances, Aragorn.  I’m sure you will do them well.”

            “I know, they do not appear very difficult,” he looked down at her and gave her a brief, wry smile.  “I had to take many dance lessons as a boy and elven dancing is very complex.  I believe I will be able to follow along, I have only seen four or five different dances so far this evening.”

            “No, we don’t have too many.  Then, why haven’t you been dancing?”

            Estel was saved from answering that question again by the breathless arrival of Halbarad.  “You are going to dance!” he exclaimed with a broad smile.  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to sit there all evening.”  Halbarad looked down at his mother briefly, “After you dance with Naneth, you must come and dance with some of the younger ladies, Aragorn.”

            Hesitating only a moment, Estel nodded, earning a grin from his cousin who quickly left, evidently to speak with one of the ladies in question.  As the music started, Estel led Nimrie out onto the floor and began dancing with her without looking around at those around him, though he was well aware of the eyes that were on him.  “You dance very well,” Nimrie said after a few moments, “the elves taught you well.”

            “Thank you.”  Estel started to relax and looked around from the corners of his eyes and saw that most people were focused on their own dancing and ignoring him and Nimrie.  The rest of the dance passed swiftly and the two of them talked quietly as they moved.  Halbarad reappeared as quickly as he had disappeared earlier and Estel barely had time to thank Nimrie for the dance before his cousin started steering him away from her.

            “Now, who do you want to dance with first?” Halbarad asked with a gleam in his eye.

            Estel gave his cousin a very small smile.  “I thought all of these girls were like sisters?”  He continued without waiting for an answer, “I-I know Gaerwen the best, so perhaps…”  He gave a small shrug, knowing he was going to have to dance with all of them eventually and saying he knew Gilost’s sister better than the others was not exactly truthful either, but he had at least spoken to her more often than the others, except for the girls from Taurnand he suddenly realized.  Gazing around the room he looked for the three girls and found them sitting across the room and he grabbed Halbarad’s sleeve as he was moving away.  “Have you danced with Miniel, yet?  Or her sister?  I suppose Héthurin is too young, but have you danced with the other two?”

            Halbarad shook his head and followed his gaze across the room to where the girls were sitting with Héthurin’s mother, talking quietly to each other.  “I’m surprised they’re still here, it must be so difficult for them,” Halbarad commented sadly.  He glanced at Estel, “Should we ask them?  They may not want to, but we can at least ask.”

            Nodding, Estel led the way across the room and stopped at the table where they were sitting and the four of them looked up in surprise.  Estel looked at each of them in turn and then fixed his gaze on the oldest girl, Miniel, “Would you like to dance with me, Lady Miniel?”  Startled, Miniel only nodded shyly before taking his hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor.  Halbarad soon followed with Tadiel.

            Searching for something to say as the music started, Estel asked the most obvious thing he could think of, “Do you enjoy dancing?”

            “Yes, but I’ve not done it very often, my lord.”

            Estel winced inwardly at being called that while he was dancing.  “This is my first dance… at least here among the Dúnedain.”

            “What was it like in Imladris?”

            Smiling, Estel spent the rest of the dance talking about Imladris and answering Miniel’s questions about elves.  When he escorted Miniel back to her table, Halbarad was waiting to drag him off to dance with someone else.  After the third or fourth dance, Estel found he was actually enjoying himself.  Some of the girls were very shy and some were talkative, but most were pleasant and since he danced with different girls or women each time, it was not as difficult as he had feared.  It was, however, rather tiring and he was glad as the time for the bonfire neared and the dancing drew to a close.  He was sipping on ale and watching people starting to leave the Hall when he noticed his grandmother slip out the door and he handed Halbarad his mug and hurried out after her.

            “May I speak with you a moment, Grandmother?” he asked as he caught up with her.

            “If you’re quick about it, it’s cold out here,” she snapped.

            “Yes, it is.  Why are you not going to the bonfire?”  Estel could see she was heading for home and not towards where the bonfire was starting.

            “Is that what you really want to know?”

            “No, no, no.  I came to thank you for your… advice earlier.  I had a good time and I just wanted to thank you for suggesting that I dance and…” he shrugged.  “Thank you.”

            “You would’ve figured it out yourself eventually, or Halhigal or someone would have told you, I just happened to be there tonight.  Now, I’m going home and going to bed.  I know its Mettarë, but it’s too late for old women to be up.  Good-night.”  Ivorwen turned and hurried off towards home leaving a somewhat bemused grandson staring after her for a moment before he turned to walk over to the bonfire to finish celebrating the ending of the year.

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Author’s Note:  The game of draughts or checkers has been around for thousands of years and so I thought that it was a game that could have existed in Middle-earth.  As for chess, Gandalf talks about the board being set and pieces in place, etc., in Return of the King and so I assume he is speaking of chess. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Author’s Note: I did research before I started writing this story and from what I read in the appendixes at the end of Return of the King it did not appear that the Dúnedain spoke Sindarin on a regular basis.  That, among men, it had mostly become a language used in and around Minas Tirith among the descendents of those from Númenor.  While some people in the North used it, it appeared it had mostly died out in favor of Westron.  However, I was using the wonderful resources on the HASA site and found that in the Unfinished Tales it quite clearly states that Sindarin was the main language of the Dúnedain.  Thank you, HASA!  Right now you are wondering why any of that matters, but it will become abundantly clear in this chapter.   All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin.  Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.  I have gone back and fixed the first two chapters to reflect those changes.

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Chapter 15      

            “Alvist, tell me what these tracks tell you,” Gilost asked quietly as he crouched down next to the deer prints they had come across.  While they did hope to bring back a deer, today was as much about teaching Alvist about tracking as it was about hunting.  Estel had begun taking one of the boys with them every few days so that he and Gilost could help the boys increase their skills.  Eradan and Halbarad had ridden off in pursuit of their own game, giving Estel cheeky grins as they left him behind.

            They had ridden well north and west of the village, skirting the marshland, to come to this area where deer were known to frequent during the winter, drawn by a small spring.  It was warming now the last week of February, a relief from the unusually bitter cold wind that had blown in for a week in January when every step outside had taken a persons’ breath away and left eyelashes and eyebrows coated with frost.  But now there was a sense that spring was within reach, that the trees were just waiting for some signal so that they could bud, birds which had disappeared for the winter were slowly starting to reappear.

            Alvist studied the tracks pressed into the soft dirt for several minutes and then said, with a hint of a question in his voice, “There are three deer and at least one of them is a buck… a large one with how deep this track is,” he pointed at a set of tracks.  “I think the deer passed by here about,” Alvist bit his lip nervously, “about two hours ago.”  He glanced between the two men anxiously as he waited for them to either tell him he was right or to correct him.  But Alvist never found out because as he looked at them, neither man was looking at him but stood frozen and gazing off to the north, their brows furrowed and their heads cocked as if listening intently.  And, then, Alvist heard it, the sounds of men’s voices.  “Are they Rangers?” he whispered excitedly, hoping his adar had returned early from his patrol.

            Estel put a warning finger on his lips and shook his head before leaning close to his ear.  “No Ranger would speak so loudly.”  He leaned over to Gilost, “Who would be here at this time of year?”

            Gilost gave him a grim look as he replied, “Bandits.”

            Nodding, as that is what he had assumed, he listened once again to try and get a sense of how many men there might be.  He heard two or three voices speaking as they drew near on the trail that ran a short distance away, but it sounded like several more horses than that.  “Whistle for Halbarad,” he ordered Gilost as he turned to Alvist.  Gilost let out a series of bird chirps and calls that were designed to carry a long distance in hopes that Halbarad and Eradan would return.  They heard no response.  “Alvist,” Estel said to the boy who was listening and watching eagerly.  “You are to stay with the horses.  Keep an arrow nocked and ready and your sword at hand, but you are not to leave the horses unless I or one of the other men call for you.  Do you understand?”  His gaze was stern and unyielding as he stared down at the boy.

            “Yes, my lord,” Alvist swallowed hard, having never seen him with the expression he wore now.

            With that, Estel and Gilost slipped off without a sound in the direction of the approaching men.  They each kept an arrow loosely nocked as they hurried through the bushes, angling to arrive at a spot on the trail just ahead of the men.  Many thoughts whirled through Estel’s mind as he moved, centering mostly around why the men were in this area, if they were looking for Dolomar or if they were just passing through.  In any event he would not allow them to approach any closer and he intended to find out what they were doing so far off of the Great East Road.  Estel spoke quietly with Gilost when they reached the trail and then sent him to the other side with instructions to wait until he was speaking with the men before showing himself.

            Estel remained hidden and carefully looked over the six rough looking men as they rode into view.  They varied in ages from what he guessed would be early twenties to mid-forties and, unlike the Dúnedain, their long stringy hair ranged in colors from blonde to dark brown.  All of them had swords and bows hanging from belts and backs.  They were cocky.  Estel could tell by the way they sat their horses and the way the one he assumed was the leader spoke to the two men alongside him.  His eyes darkened in fury as he listened to them speak of a raid they had recently made… and the lives they had taken during it. 

            As they drew within twenty yards, Estel took a deep breath and stepped out onto the trail, his arrow pointed at the ground.  “Halt,” he called out commandingly, his hard grey eyes meeting the eyes of the leader.  Shocked by the sudden appearance of this man, the men did just that, horses rearing slightly as they pulled hard on the reins.  Recovering from his surprise the leader scowled at Estel and started to ride forward when he found an arrow pointed at him and he reined in his horse once again.

            “Who’re you?  What’d you want?” he spit out harshly, his eyes gleaming in anger.

            “It matters not who I am,” Estel’s bow moved slightly to cover a man who was reaching for his knife and the man dropped his hand to his lap.  Gilost stepped out of the wood on the other side of the trail and a little closer to the men and they all reacted by shifting their horses away a bit.  “Hold,” Estel ordered and they froze once again.  “Why are you here?” he demanded.  “This is not the time of year that most people travel the wilds.  Most travelers use the Great East Road if they have to travel at all.”

            “We go where we want,” the man sneered.  “There’s nothing says we can’t travel this trail and ya can’t stop us.”  He spit on the ground before urging his horse forward and Estel swung his bow back to cover him, pulling his bowstring taut as he did so.  The man stopped once again, his brown eyes furious.

            “Yes, I can.  Dismount.  All of you.”  Estel’s voice was hard and his eyes were like grey flint as he stared at the man unblinkingly.

            The man was hesitating when one of the other men, further back in the line, spoke up, “Galt, he’s a Ranger; we should do what he says.”

            “He’s no right!”

            “There’s only two of ‘em,” one of the men closest to Galt whispered loudly.

            Estel was starting to wonder if they were going to have to take them by force, not that he doubted that he and Gilost could do so, when a slight flicker of movement in the bushes beyond the men caught his eye. He saw that Halbarad and Eradan had arrived and he breathed an inward sigh of relief.  Things had just gotten a little easier.  Though Eradan was young for this, he was at least competent with bow and blade.  Without taking his eyes off of Galt, he called loudly, “Come ahead, Halbarad, Eradan.”  Arrows nocked, the two stepped into the trail behind the men, spreading out on opposite sides so that the men were effectively surrounded.  Galt and several of the others cursed loudly at their appearance.

            The youngest looking man in the back was the first to dismount and he moved slowly, keeping his hands well away from his belt where sword and knives were kept, but he kept a tight rein on his horse as he looked nervously at Halbarad who was standing closest to him.  “Slowly,” Estel ordered the men as they started to dismount and they grudgingly obeyed as their eyes darted angrily between the Rangers.  “Loosen your belts and let them fall.”

            “Why’re ya doing this?” Galt demanded stepping towards Estel but stopping abruptly at the look in Estel’s eyes.  He undid his belt, his eyes never leaving Estel’s.

            “Hold, Eradan,” Estel called as he saw the young man stepping forward out of the corner of his eye, whether to gather the belts or take the horses he was not sure.  He knew this was a dangerous time because he was sure most of the men carried hidden knives and they had to take them.  They also needed to get the horses out of the way and gather up the dropped weapons before searching and tying up the men.  “Step forward,” Estel gestured with his bow for the men to move away from their belts.  “Let go of the reins,” he called to the young man who was still holding his like a lifeline.  The men’s eyes were fixed on him, mostly showing anger, but a good bit of frustration and fear was also appearing in the eyes of some of the men.  “Sit.”

            Estel waited until the men were on the ground before calling to Eradan, “Come and gather up the weapons.”  Deciding that at this point he would rather have his sword in his hand, he beckoned Gilost to his side with a jerk of his head.  Making sure that Gilost knew what he was doing, Estel left the arrow loosely nocked so he could switch back quickly if he needed to do so as he swiftly pulled his sword.  Once it was free of the sheath, he then carefully set his bow aside never once taking his eyes off the men.

            A cunning look crept into the eyes of Galt.  “We’ve got money, take it and let us go,” trying to distract Estel from the fact that Eradan was moving a little too close to his men.

            “I already have your stolen money,” Estel retorted.  “There is no reason to let you go.”  He noticed Eradan at the same time as one of the men in the middle of the line stretched his feet out and tripped the young man, knocking him hard to the ground before leaping at him.  The man ignored Estel’s shouted call to halt and twin bowstrings sang as Gilost and Halbarad released their arrows.  Estel had his sword at Galt’s throat before the arrows thudded into the body of the man.

            “Do not move,” Estel hissed at him and then his gaze shifted briefly to the other four men who were not even looking at him but at the man who had been shot and was now moaning in pain as he lay dying.  Eradan pulled himself out from underneath the dying bandit and gave Estel a wide-eyed stare.  “Continue with what you were doing, Eradan,” Estel directed calmly, hiding his sorrow at the death behind an impassive mask.  “And then get some rope from the horses so that we can tie them and they will not be tempted to try that again.”

            “Y-yes, my lord.”

            “You… you killed him,” one of the men said accusingly, looking between Estel, Gilost, and then turning to look back at Halbarad.  Estel noted that Halbarad had an expression that was totally unreadable and he grieved for the fact that his cousin had just had to kill a man… not an orc, but a man.

            Turning his gaze back on Galt who had not moved an inch since Estel’s sword had come to rest at his throat; Estel answered the man, though it was not truly a question.  “He did die and I am grieved that any man should lose his life in such a manner, but his death was brought about by his own choices.  Both to join your band and for his attack just now on my Ranger.”  Eradan had collected the weapons and dumped them off to the side before hurrying to get several lengths of rope. 

            “M-my lord?”

            Estel glanced briefly at Eradan and saw the fear flickering in his eyes as he held up the rope questioningly, but there was nothing he could do for the young man now.  “Start down near Halbarad and search them carefully, Eradan, before tying their hands in front of them.  Halbarad, watch them closely.  Gilost, move down that way a bit.”  His Rangers did as directed without speaking, while the prisoners were looking confused at whatever language was being spoken.

            Galt finally found his voice once again and, with evidence that these Rangers were deadly serious, his voice was quieter, though no less demanding.  “ We’ve done nothing wrong and now ya killed one of my men.  Let us go and I won’t tell no one what ya done!”

            Estel stared down at him with undisguised fury and disdain in his eyes.  “Done nothing wrong?  Would you like to explain to me about the raid you recently made on a group of wagons on the Great East Road and the people you killed?  While I know that was your most recent work, I am sure it is not the only raid you and your men have conducted.”

            Confused at how this Ranger could know of this recent raid, Galt tried to bluster his way out of it.  “We didn’t!  We’re… hunters and we’re trying to find food for our families.”

            Gilost let out a short bark of grim laughter at that, “Then the families that you were so casually discussing having killed a short time ago was just in jest?”  He did not move his eyes from the men he was guarding as Eradan moved to the second man.  “The wagons you burned were part of your fun?” his voice was cold and full of fury.

            “I, myself, am anxious to see what the packhorses are carrying,” Estel said, his voice soft and dangerous, his gaze piercing as he studied Galt.

            “That’s ours!  Ya can’t…” Galt began shaking his head vehemently, but stopped when Estel’s sword cut long thin furrows into his neck as he had never moved the blade away.

            “I would stay still and quiet until my sword is removed,” Estel advised, looking closely at the man’s neck to see if the wounds were serious.  Assuring himself that they were not life threatening and it would not further harm Galt to wait for treatment; Estel just left them until the man was bound.  He did not trust the man to not attack if he tried to treat the wounds with his hands unbound.  Glancing at Eradan, Estel saw that he had pulled quite a few knives from the men and had tossed them into the pile with the rest of the weapons that had been collected. 

            “Where is Alvist?” Halbarad asked with concern.  He had just realized that the boy was not with them and he hoped that he had not been injured before he and Eradan had arrived, though that did not seem likely.

            Estel answered as he backed away a short distance so that Eradan had room to search Galt.  “He is with the horses a short distance from here.  I will send Eradan to fetch him when he is done.” He watched closely as Eradan found knife after knife from the man sitting on the ground in front of him.  Eradan was very thorough in his search, making the man turn so he could search the back of his leggings, tunic, and cloak, as well as his every part of the front of him and his boots.  Finally, Eradan tied the man’s hands together quite tightly before standing and giving Estel a brisk nod.

            “Well, done,” Estel lowered his sword, though only slightly as he was well aware that the men’s legs were still unbound.  “Go get Alvist and our horses.  We left him about one hundred yards in that direction.”  Eradan nodded and ran off.  “Halbarad, Gilost,” he beckoned them to him and the three of them stepped back a short distance, though they kept their eyes fixed on their prisoners and Halbarad and Gilost had their bows pointed towards them, though the strings were now slack.

            “What are you going to do with them?”  Halbarad asked.

            “For now we are going to take them back to the village and then I guess we will have to take them to…” Estel paused, his brow furrowed as he thought.  He had not yet fully considered what they would do with the men besides removing them from being a threat to the Dúnedain and the other peoples of Eriador.  “I will speak with Halhigal,” he finally finished.

            Gilost looked at him sidelong and then spoke softly, “Normally bandits are taken to Bree, my lord, but we’re a long way from there.  I’m not sure when any were caught this far east, certainly before I became a Ranger.  But the village there is big enough to have a judge to deal with men like these.  Though,” he gave his lord a brief smile, “you, of course, are able to judge them yourself.”

            The Lord of the Dúnedain and uncrowned King of Arnor returned Gilost’s brief smile.  “I am aware of that,”he sighed softly.  “However, at this time, I think it best that I leave these things to the men of Bree to judge and punish as they see fit.  From what I understand, the majority of the people of Eriador are already fearful of the Rangers and if they hear that we are also judging and punishing people, even men like these, I think that it would only increase their fear.”  Gilost nodded and was about to respond when one of the bandits spoke.

            “S-sir?”

            The voice sounded young and frightened and Estel glanced down the row of men to see that the youngest appearing man had spoken and he walked down towards the blonde headed man who eyed him warily, his wide blue eyes frightened.  “Yes, what do you want?”

            “Sir, the last… raid…”

            Noises of protest broke out from the other men.  “Don’t, Will!” 

            “Shut yer mouth, boy!”

            “Cease,” Estel commanded the men, shooting them a quelling look and with mumbles of protest, they quieted, though angry glares were directed at both him and Will.  “What do you want… Will… is that your name?”  The man nodded and Estel suddenly wondered if he had been off on guessing his age.  He had thought he was in his twenties, but, on closer inspection, the man appeared much younger, though he had a beard that among the Dúnedain would indicate a man in this twenties.  Estel reminded himself that this man was not Dúnedain.  “How old are you?”

          “Nineteen, sir.”

          Estel nodded and indicated he should continue.  While certainly the man would be considered young by Dúnedain standards, he was not young by the standards of most of the men of Middle-earth.

          “The raid yesterday…” Will averted his eyes from Estel’s intense stare.  “We left… there were people alive…” his voice trailed off as he heard the muttered threats of his companions.

            Drawing in a sharp breath, Estel crouched down in front of Will.  “Were these people injured?”  Will nodded, not meeting Estel’s eyes.  “How badly?” he asked sharply.

            “I’m not sure, sir… I didn’t see them all, b-but I could hear them as we rode away,” he bit his lip.

            Estel twisted on his feet and glanced back at Gilost and Halbarad and saw the horror he felt mirrored in their eyes.  As horrible as it was for these men to have killed what he assumed were two families from what he had overheard, it seemed far worse to have left them alive to suffer.  He turned his furious gaze on the rest of the bandits but they quickly dropped their heads and he turned back to Will.

            “When did this raid occur?”

            “Yes-yesterday afternoon, sir.”

            “Where?”

            Will shrugged.  “I don’t know, sir.  We…we rode a good ways along the road afterwards before heading into the woods and taking this trail and then stopping for the night.”

            Estel stood and walked over to Halbarad and Gilost.  “We have to get these men back to the village and then we are going to see if anyone is still alive.”

            “We should bury them at the very least, my lord,” Gilost murmured.

            “I had not considered that, but, yes, we will.”  Estel turned his attention to Eradan and Alvist as they arrived with the horses and he saw Alvist pale as he took in the dead body.  “Alvist, tie the horses to that tree.  Eradan, bring me my healing pack.”  As he waited for the healing supplies, Estel looked at Halbarad.  “I want you and Eradan to get the body on a horse, we will have to take him back and bury him there.  I will tend to Galt’s wounds before we go.”  Nodding, Halbarad turned to do as he was bid and Estel went to tend to Galt while Gilost covered the bandits with his bow nocked and ready.  Estel ignored Galt’s comments and pleas as he cleaned and bound his injured throat. 

            The bandits were blindfolded before they were put on their horses, their hands tied to the pommels of their saddles and their feet tied together under the belly of the horses.  Estel had Alvist lead the way, the reins of the two packhorses tied to the pommel of his saddle.  Each prisoner had their horses tied on lead lines to the saddles of the Rangers, who rode with swords drawn.  Eradan brought up the rear, leading the horse with the body of the dead man.  It took well over an hour to return to Dolomar and, as they neared the village, Estel finally threatened to gag Galt and several of the men if they would not cease their complaining and cursing.

            At the gate, Estel sent Rosruin to fetch Halhigal, Ladreníl, and Nestad and bring them to the Hall and told Caladithil to run and make sure that all of the children were inside.  He also directed Alvist to go and get some of the other boys to help care for the prisoner’s horses and to give their own a quick rubdown and re-saddle them to ride out again.  Galt struggled violently and spit as Halbarad and Eradan pulled him from the horse and Estel had never before been so tempted to hit someone out of anger as he was this man. 

            Finally, Estel’s patience was at an end and he took a length of bandaging material from his pack.  “Hold him still,” he growled at Halbarad and Eradan and he waited until they had him firmly under control on his knees before forcing a gag into Galt’s mouth and tying it neatly around the back of his head.  Finished with Galt, Estel turned to the other men whose blindfolds had been removed.  “Do you need gags?” he asked harshly.

            “N-no, sir,” Will shook his head.

            There was no reply from the other men who stared at the ground.  By this time Halhigal, Nestad, Ladreníl, and even Mellonar and Sírdhim had arrived, their eyes assessing the situation and swiftly drawing the correct conclusion they wasted no time on questions that could be answered later. 

            “Where do you want to keep them, my lord?” Ladreníl asked.

            “I know not.  Has this never happened before?”  There was a general shaking of heads and murmurs of no and Estel frowned again.  “Perhaps one of the storage sheds?”

            “There are no places for fires in those buildings,” Halhigal replied, “and it’s too cold yet to leave even men such as these without a fire at night.”

            “I suppose not,” Estel growled, scowling at the bandits, though he would not mind leaving Galt in such a place.  “We will have to leave them in the Hall, then, until we return.”  He motioned for them to move that way and Halbarad and Eradan urged the prisoners forward while Gilost grasped Galt’s arm and steered him in the proper direction.

            “Return?  Return from where, my lord?” Nestad asked as they walked behind the prisoners.

            “Their latest raid was yesterday and evidently they left some of the people alive,” Estel grimaced.  “In fact, Nestad, I would like you to come with us.  If there are some still alive, then I imagine they are sorely injured and may need both of our skill.”

            Anger darkened Nestad’s eyes as he replied, “I will go and prepare supplies to take with us.”

            “How far away is this place?” Halhigal asked.  “You know the chance of any of them still being alive at this time is small.”

            Estel gave him a grim look, “I know, but it is not far from what one of them told us. We have to find out and, as Gilost pointed out, we need to bury them at least.”  He turned to Mellonar, “Please go and get shovels and take them to the stables.  Alvist is readying our horses so we can ride out again as soon as we are done here.  Rosruin, go and ask Nimrie to prepare food for me and Halbarad to take with us and also our bedrolls.  Sírdhim, will you do the same for Gilost?”  Both of them nodded and hurried off.

            Inside the Hall, each prisoner was tightly bound hand and foot to one of the heavy wooden tables with just enough room to lie down.  There was simply nothing else to secure them to and with men guarding them; it should be enough to keep them under control.  Estel crouched down in front of Will to try and get more details about where the attack had taken place in hopes that they might be able to ride more directly to the spot instead of having to backtrack and follow the bandit’s trail.

            “Describe the area where you attacked the wagons.”

            “There w-was a sharp bend in the road, sir,” Will refused to look into the stern grey eyes of this man questioning him.  “W-we waited in the woods until they come around it and then…  It was just trees there and I don’t know how else to describe it.”  He glanced briefly up at Estel and then dropped his gaze again.

            “Were there large boulders or cliffs along the road there?” Halhigal asked sternly.

            Will nodded slowly, his brow furrowed.  “I-I think there were, sir.  B-but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

            “I know where that is.”  Halhigal looked at Gilost who nodded his agreement.

            “I do, too and we should be able to ride there in four or five hours, my lord.  I know a way that will get us there more quickly than following their trail.”

            “All right, then we should be able to make it before nightfall.  Uncle, we will be back sometime tomorrow.”  Halhigal nodded as Estel, Gilost, and Halbarad strode swiftly from the room.

0-0-0

            The four Rangers rode hard as they tried to make it to the site of the raid before nightfall.  Gilost led the way, following paths that only he seemed to be aware of, but he led them without hesitation and Estel knew it would take them directly to where they needed to go.  There were a few patches of snow in a few sheltered hollows that the sun had not been able to reach, but for the most part they encountered little difficulty. 

            Estel was concerned about Halbarad who had spoken very little since he and Gilost had shot the man earlier in the day and so he kept an eye on him as they rode.  Not that there was anything he could do for him at this time Estel realized with an inward grimace, but he knew that eventually Halbarad would speak to him about it… or at least he thought he would.

            They arrived at the Great East Road about an hour before nightfall and they rode cautiously out of the woods, reining to a halt in the middle of the track.  Looking up and down the road Nestad spotted the half burned remains of the wagons about a quarter of a mile west and they urged their horses into a canter.  It was deathly quiet as they swung down off their horses, tying them to an unburned section of a wagon wheel.  Without a word they split up and grimly began their search for bodies.  It did not take long.  Two men were found near the wagons, while the bodies of five children, who appeared to be anywhere from the age of five to twelve, were found scattered in a wide radius around the horrific scene, evidently caught in the act of fleeing.  It took longer to find the women, whose bodies were near the edge of the woods, partially hidden in the underbrush.  It was clear that some of them had been alive for some time after Galt and his men had left, but based on their injuries Estel doubted that any of them had survived the night.

            “Where should we bury them?”

            Estel just looked at Nestad for a moment, stunned at the brutality of what had happened and finally he shrugged.  “Does it really matter?” he whispered.  There was no answer and he looked around and indicated a spot just off the road and near the cliffs where rocks were plentiful knowing they would need those to cover the graves. 

            Gilost handed Estel a shovel and was starting to dig in the hard ground when he stopped and looked up, his normally bright friendly eyes shadowed with grief and anger.  He quietly asked, “How many graves should we dig, my lord?”

            Looking at the nine blanket covered bodies, Estel considered the question for a moment.  “If we knew which family was which we could make two, but we do not know who is married to whom or which children go with which adults.  I suppose we should make individual graves, then,” he sighed wearily and with frustration, running his hand through his hair.

            “I suggest one grave for all of them, my lord,” Nestad spoke up in a grief-stricken voice.  “It matters not to them and I think it’s better to only have one heap of stones so that it’s not obvious how many are buried here.  We might more easily make it look natural than if there were nine piles.  I don’t know if anyone would disturb the graves, but…” his voice trailed off.

            “What will we do with the remains of the wagons?” Halbarad spoke for the first time in hours as the four men began digging in earnest.

            “I suppose we burn them the rest of the way,” Estel replied.  “We cannot leave them here and we certainly cannot take them with us.  We will use the light they give off so we can finish this tonight.”

            They worked steadily for a couple of hours, pausing once to move the horses away and to set the wagons afire.  When the grave was finished, they carefully set the bodies down into it and then filled the dirt back in.  Using the horses they dragged large boulders over the site of the grave and filled in gaps as best they could in the growing darkness as the fires burned down.  As they finished, the four men stood by the grave for a moment, uncertain about what to say.  Words needed to be spoken and yet they did not know the names of the people or where they were from, though the wagons appeared to have been headed east, so perhaps they were from Bree.

            Finally, Nestad spoke, simple words but from his heart.  “We don’t know who you were, but no one deserves to be treated this way.  We’ll see the men that did this brought to justice.  May Ilúvatar grant you peace now beyond the circles of the world.”

            Gathering up their tools and horses they walked a short distance down the road before heading into the woods to find a somewhat sheltered area to spend the night.  Finding a small thicket of bushes and trees that was set back against some of the larger boulders that dotted the area they settled in for the night.  Few words passed between them as they ate their supper sitting around the small fire that sparked and snapped in the cold night air.

            “Halbarad and I will take first watch,” Estel announced in a low voice as they prepared to turn in.  He ignored the look his cousin shot him from across the fire as Gilost and Nestad said good-night and slipped into the tent.  Neither of them spoke until the soft sounds of the other two men had evened out and they knew they were asleep.

            “What did you want to speak to me about?” Halbarad finally asked, staring into the woods and chewing on the stem of his unlit pipe.

            “Oh, I am sure you know.  You have hardly spoken since you shot the man this morning, Halbarad, and I know it weighs on you.  I thought you might like to speak of it, but if not… “  Estel’s voice trailed off as he studied Halbarad’s rigid body which was half turned away from him now.  “Perhaps later, then.  You know I will listen if you want to talk with me.”  Silence descended and Estel drew up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees as he listened to the night sounds.  After a time he unconsciously began humming under his breath one of the many songs he had learned in Imladris.

            “What are you humming?”

            “What?”  Estel looked over at Halbarad, startled, and then realized what he had been doing.  “Oh, just a song that I learned when I was young… Glorfindel taught it to me, I think.  I did not realize I was doing it, though my brothers have told me that I often do so when I stand watch alone.  And it was quiet now…” he shrugged.

            “If you are alone, then how do they know?”

            “Because it wakes them,” Estel grinned briefly.  “They are elves and evidently it is loud enough for them to hear, though they said they became accustomed to it and fell back to sleep immediately.”

            Halbarad shook his head and it became quiet once again.  Finally, Halbarad took a deep breath and looked at his cousin.  “Was I wrong to shoot him?”

            “No, you did what had to be done.”

            “Should I have tried to… wound him, maybe?  I aimed right for his heart, Aragorn.”

            Estel heard the anguish in Halbarad’s voice and he grieved that his cousin had had to shoot the man, even though he knew that it was something that he would have had to face at some point in his life.  “No, you did exactly what you needed to do, Halbarad.  He was attacking Eradan.  What if he had had one of his knives out?  Eradan could have been injured or killed or taken as a hostage.  Anything could have happened at that point.  You had to act to protect one of your fellow Rangers.  The other Bandits were about to join him.  Gilost did not hesitate either… you both did exactly as you should have, though I am sure that right now that brings you no comfort.”

            Halbarad shook his head, staring down at his feet.  “It does not.  I killed a man today, Aragorn, and I know, especially after seeing this…” he waved back towards where they had buried the two families, “that the man deserved to die.  But…” he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

            “But you did not want to be the one to take his life.”  Halbarad nodded and Estel could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes.  “I do not know what to say that will ease this for you as I have never had to take the life of a man… yet.”  He gave Halbarad a small, grim smile; Estel knew that it was something he would have to face someday.  “I think that time will help heal your heart and, perhaps, speaking with your adar will help.  I am sure that he has had to battle and kill men at some point during his life.”

            “Probably,” he muttered, looking away again.

            “Halbarad, look at me,” Estel ordered in a commanding, somewhat stern tone and Halbarad looked at him in surprise.  “So far I have spoken to you as your cousin, your brother, your friend, but now I’m going to speak to you as your Chieftain.  You did what I would expect any of my Rangers to do in that situation and I am proud of you for that.  I also expect you to do the same thing again in the future if it is needed.”  Estel looked at him carefully, hoping that speaking to him in such a way would help him battle his feelings of guilt.

            Not at all sure how to respond to that statement since he did not feel in any way proud, Halbarad simply nodded.

            “I do not think that both of us are truly needed on watch, so I will seek my rest now and give you some time to think, Cousin.  Wake one of the others in a couple of hours and I will take last watch.”  Estel stood gracefully to his feet and as he made his way to the tent he went around the fire and gently patted Halbarad on the shoulder before continuing on.

            “Aragorn?”

            He stopped and looked back at Halbarad with an eyebrow raised in question at the slight tremor he heard in Halbarad’s voice.

            “How… how could men,” his voice dropped to a whisper and Estel walked back and crouched down beside him.  “How could they do that?  To other men, to… well, to anyone… how can they…”

            Estel sat down hard beside him and slowly shook his head, trying not to replay the horrific images in his mind.  “I know not.”  He rubbed his forehead and felt tears prickle at his eyes but he blinked them away and took a deep breath.  “I know not,” he repeated softly.

            “That one is so young…”

            “Younger than either of us… but not Dúnedain, so it is different.”

            “Why did he tell us?”

            Estel shrugged, staring into the flames.  “I know not… perhaps he still feels some level of shame…perhaps he hopes to escape from justice by seeming to help us… I know not.”

            Halbarad turned and looked at his cousin, forcing a ghost of a smile across his lips.  “You don’t seem to know very much, my Lord Aragorn.”

            With a brief grin, Estel nodded his agreement.  “And, on this subject, I hope I never do.”

            “Did you bring your pipe?”  Halbarad asked as he pulled out his pouch of pipeweed.

            “No, but I am sure that you will share yours with me and, perhaps, this night I might even enjoy it.”

            “You’ve slowly been getting better; you hardly ever choke on it anymore.”

            “Thank you, I have spent a lot of time practicing,” Estel said laughing quietly.

            “Well, then you need to find a better teacher because you’re not learning very quickly.”  Halbarad handed him the pipe and Estel took a short draw on it before handing it back with a smile.  “Hmmm, perhaps you are doing better than I thought.”

            The two young men stayed up quite late, sharing stories of their childhoods and laughing quietly about unimportant things as they strove to drive unimaginable images from their hearts and minds.

0-0-0

            Eradan and Alvist were waiting at the gate when the four Rangers arrived in Dolomar shortly before noon.  They looked anxiously at the spare horses to see if anyone else was with the four men and Estel saw their looks of disappointment when they realized that none of the people had survived.  Reining to a halt near them, Estel dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Rosruin.  He then beckoned Alvist and Eradan to him.

            “There were no survivors,” he said quietly, putting up his hand to forestall the questions he could see they wanted to ask.  “That is all I will tell you and all you need to know.”  Estel turned to the boy, “Alvist, you did well yesterday in following my directions and I am pleased with you.  Go and help Rosruin with the horses,” he watched Alvist walk off with a small, proud smile on his face before he turned back to Eradan.

            “You, too, did very well yesterday, Eradan, and I am proud of the way you handled yourself in a very difficult situation.”

            Eradan bit his lip nervously and stared at the ground for a moment before meeting Estel’s understanding gaze.  “But, I-I got too close to that man and I could have gotten us all killed, Aragorn… my lord.”

            “Walk with me.”  Estel gestured down the main road of the village and they walked silently for a moment.  “Yes, you did get too close to that man, Eradan, but it does not change the fact that you did well in your very first conflict of any sort.  And, I would think… hope you would learn from that and be more aware of your surroundings in the future.  You are only nineteen and you show great promise as a Ranger and I would not want you to believe that this one mistake means you are a failure or will not become one of my very best Rangers one day.”  He gave Eradan a sincere smile and he watched the young man nod and take a deep breath.

            “He… he died because of my mistake.”

            Estel stopped and studied Eradan for a moment before he answered.  “No, he did not,” he said firmly, laying his hand on Eradan’s shoulder and gazing directly into his eyes.  “It is as I told those bandits yesterday, he died because of the choices he, himself, made - the choice to join their band, to rob and kill people and, finally to attack you.  You may have made a mistake to get too close to him, Eradan, but it was his choice to trip you and to jump on you.  Do not shoulder the blame or feel guilty for his death.”

            Eradan stared at him for several moments and then nodded once.  “Thank you, my lord.  I-I needed to hear that.”

            “You are welcome.”  Estel turned to go into the Hall where he could see Halhigal and several of the men waiting for him.

            “My lord, may I ask you a question?”

            Twisting back around, Estel motioned for him to continue and Eradan did so hesitantly.

            “Are you really only twenty?”

            Estel blinked his eyes several times in surprise, “Yes, I am twenty… though,” he said with a small smile, “I will be twenty-one next week.”

            “You seem so much older than me and I’ll be twenty in a couple of months and I just wondered if it were really true.”

            Estel did not know what to say because he knew it was true.  He did seem much older than Eradan and Halbarad, as well.  Though, perhaps not in everything, he thought as he remembered back to Mettarë and dancing with the young ladies.  “I think,” he replied slowly, “that it is because I was brought up amongst elves, taught by them, and without other children around, only adults.  It was different than here and the life you have led so far.  I also started going out on patrols with my brothers and Lord Glorfindel at the age of seventeen and I know that matures you in many different ways.  Or, perhaps,” he grinned briefly, “I was just born old.”  Which, considering the heavy burdens his ancestry had placed on Aragorn son of Arathorn, was not too far from the truth.

            Eradan grinned in return, “I think that is probably the reason, my lord.”

            Shrugging and giving him another small smile, Estel turned away once more and headed to the Hall, his eyes hardening as he thought of the bandits tied inside and what they had done to innocent people.  He was not sure how he would be able to be in their company for the twelve to fourteen days it would take to travel to Bree.  But he would do what he must and with that thought in mind, he pushed open the door.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin.  Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth. 

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            Estel joined his uncle and the rest of the men of the village at a table across the room from the prisoners, ignoring the glares and muttered comments the bandits made as he walked past.  Sitting down with a weary sigh, he looked from Ladreníl to his uncle.  “Did they cause any problems while we were gone?”

            “None that we couldn’t handle, my lord,” Ladreníl replied, staring at Estel with his one good eye, but giving no other details.

            He waited a moment for more information, but when none of the men spoke up, Estel decided it was not worth pursuing and that he would speak to Halhigal later.  “I see.  Did Nestad tell you what we found?”  There were grimaces and scowls from the others and Estel was relieved that he would not have to give the details.  “Good, thank you, Nestad.  Now, I want them out of our village and on the way to Bree first thing in the morning.”

            “You are determined to let the men in Bree judge them, then, Aragorn?” Halhigal interrupted him quietly.

            “Yes, I had thought to do that.  Is that not what my father would have done?  Or my grandfather?”

            “Yes, but we’ve never caught any this far away from Bree before… not in my memory.”  Halhigal looked at Sírdhim and Mellonar, the oldest men there and they both shook their heads.  “It is just a long journey and they are difficult men at best and with five of them…,” he shook his head.

            Glancing over at the bandits, Estel saw that all five men were watching them and obviously trying to understand what they were saying.  “How many men will we need, do you think?”

            “At least four.”

            “Four?”  Estel looked at Nestad with a question in his eyes.

            “After what I saw last night, my lord, four is necessary.”

            “I agree.”  Gilost surprised Estel by speaking up.  “After the trouble we had with them yesterday and the way that man attacked Eradan, I believe we need four.  It is a long way to Bree, my lord, and we may run into other trouble along the way.”

            Staring down at the table, his brow furrowed in thought, Estel considered the men he had in the village.  “We cannot leave the village without enough men to feed everyone and to provide some protection from orcs,” he mused quietly, rubbing his hand along his bearded chin as he thought aloud.  No one spoke as they gave him time to come to a decision.  “Well, Halbarad and Gilost will come with me and,” he glanced around the table at the men wondering if it would be best if he took Nestad or Halhigal or even young Eradan, but he quickly dismissed that thought.  “Halhigal will be the fourth member.  I think, Ladreníl that Nestad and Eradan can supply enough meat to get by.  Some of the older boys will also be able to help.  Certainly Alvist and Rosruin are becoming capable hunters and could be trusted to go out.”

            “I can hunt, my lord,” Mellonar offered gruffly.

            Estel nodded his thanks.  “Now we need to…”  He was interrupted by a very hesitant Ladreníl.

            “My lord, I think if would be better if Nestad went with you and Halhigal stayed here.”  At Estel’s surprised, questioning look, Ladreníl continued.  “You’ve appointed him your regent and if something happened to you then we will need him.  If you two are traveling together there is a chance that both of you could be killed and then where would the Dúnedain be?”  He watched his Chieftain’s face darken and wondered if he had overstepped his bounds, yet believed he was right.

            “Are you saying that I can never ride out with my uncle again?  Not have him show me the other villages of our people?”  Estel was shocked at the very idea.  He intended to ride around to the other villages as soon as he returned.  He depended on Halhigal for his wisdom and guidance and he wanted… needed him by his side when he visited those villages.

            “That’s my advice, my lord.  I think it’s best for our people,” Ladreníl stared down at the table briefly and looked up and met Estel’s eyes again.  “I know you depend on him,” he swallowed hard, wondering once again if he had said too much, but he had started and knew he had to finish.  “But, you also seem to look to others for counsel,” he glanced at Nestad, who he knew his Chieftain was close to.  “Forgive me, my lord, if I’ve said too much, but I felt it needed to be said.”

            Estel slowly shook his head as he studied the older man, seeing his uneasiness and he knew he needed to be careful if he did not want to prevent Ladreníl from freely offering his counsel in the future.  He did value it… most of the time.  “There is nothing to forgive, Ladreníl,” he finally said quietly.  “Whether I agree with you or not, whether I choose to follow your counsel or not,” Estel shifted his gaze to each of the other men at the table before returning to Ladreníl.  “I still want to hear it.  It does me little good to have men around me… men I trust and then not listen to their honest opinions and counsel.”  His voice changed slightly, became a little sterner, “Though, I need to weigh that counsel and make the decision that I deem is best for our people and I do expect you and everyone else to support me in whatever that decision might be.”

            “Yes, of course, my lord,” Ladreníl said and there murmurs of agreement from the others and Estel saw approval in his uncle’s eyes.

            “Now, in this situation,” Estel paused and looked briefly at Halhigal but he could not tell what his uncle was thinking.  “I need some time to think about it because right now my heart says you are wrong, Ladreníl, and that it will be all right if Uncle Halhigal rides with me and the others to Bree.  I intended to take him with me to the other villages later this spring as well.  But I have never before considered what you just mentioned and perhaps you are right.  I think in this I need a little time to make my decision because if I decide that you are right, it will change many things… many plans that I had for the both of us.”

            “I understand that, my Lord Aragorn,” Ladreníl gave him a respectful nod and Estel looked around at the rest of the men.

            “Do any of you have any thoughts on the matter?”

            “I agree with Ladreníl, my lord,” Nestad said with an understanding smile.  “Especially as you usually have Halbarad with you.”  He continued at Estel’s puzzled look.  “I assume that someday you intend to have Halbarad step in for his father.”  Estel gave a small nod, not at all surprised at the healer’s perceptiveness.  “Then it is not wise to have all three of you traveling the wilds together… no matter how good you are with your weapons.”

            “I will take that into consideration as well,” said Estel, knowing even as he said it that the decision had already been made, that both men were right and he felt a sharp pain in his heart.  Still, he looked around at the other men to see if they had anything to add and when none spoke he turned back to the original discussion of getting the bandits to Bree.  He asked a couple of men to arrange for food for the journey and to check and see what the bandits had in their saddlebags to make sure that they did not have to stop and hunt on the way to Bree.  They would purchase food for their return, though Estel was also considering seeking out some of the patrols that were stationed in that area and they could hunt if they were going to be gone longer.

            Estel turned to the next question on his mind.  “Did anyone go through the things that were on the packhorses?  Did you find anything that might help us find out who those families were?”

            Halhigal nodded, “We did, Aragorn, though I doubt that everything on those horses was from just those two wagons.  There were too many similar things that I think they took from several different raids.  But there are no letters or anything like that.”

            Nestad gave a disdainful snort, “They probably can’t even read.”  The men laughed quietly.

            “But,” Halhigal continued, “there are several pieces of jewelry and other items that would probably be recognized by family or neighbors of those people.”

            “Good.  I would like the families of those people to know what happened to them if it is possible.  Hopefully the people in Bree will recognize these things and return it to any surviving kin.”

            “If they were from Bree,” Ladreníl reminded him and Estel nodded.

            “And, if you can trust those Bree-landers to not just take the jewelry as their own,” Sírdhim sneered, remembering his past experiences in the village.

            “Would they truly do that?”  He answered his own question with a scowl, “I suppose they would.”

            Halhigal bit back a smile at his nephew’s naiveté, though he supposed he should not be surprised considering his lack of exposure to the world of men beyond the confines of the Dúnedain villages.  Well, he would learn very quickly.  “Yes, Aragorn they would… some of them would,” he clarified.  “There are many, many honorable men and woman outside the race of the Dúnedain.  But there are those,” he gestured to the bandits behind him, “that are wicked and full of hate and others that are simply petty and grasping in nature and would take advantage of an opportunity like this and would seek to take what is not theirs.”

            “We also have our full share of men and women who are petty,” Nestad commented.  “Although, I am not suggesting that they take what is not theirs,” he added as an afterthought.

            No one argued with his statement.

            “Is there anything else?”  Estel waited and stood when there was no response.  “Oh, I did have one other concern,” he said before they walked away.  “I do not think it wise to use my real name in front of these men.  Great trouble was taken to keep me hidden from the enemy and it seems foolish to name me openly now.  But…” he shrugged.  Estel watched concerned looks flash between the men.

            “You’re right, Ar…,” Halhigal said, frowning.  “I wouldn’t be wise to call you that in front of others nor to give your title.  Though, as we are speaking Sindarin I doubt any would know it.”

            Ladreníl shook his head, “We cannot take that risk.”

            “Perhaps we can call you ‘Captain’ in the presence of others,” Gilost suggested.  “It’s what we call the patrol leaders and if others understood Sindarin or if we called you that in common then they would think you were just an ordinary leader of our people.”

            Estel nodded his approval and looked at the other men who gave their own nods.  With that decided, Estel left the Hall, once again ignoring the bandits.  He feared that he could not speak to them yet without losing control of his temper so he decided to put it off until later.  There was no pressing need to speak with them now, they would have days together and he could find out any information he needed from them during that time.

            As Estel stepped out into the bright afternoon sunshine and headed for home, Halhigal and Halbarad fell in alongside him.  “Ladreníl and Nestad are right, are they not?” he asked quietly, glancing at his uncle.

            Halhigal sighed, fixing his eyes on the far wall of the stockade.  “Yes, they are, Aragorn, much as it pains me to admit it.  I wanted to be the one to introduce you to the rest of our people, to be at your side as you learn more of the ways of the Dúnedain.  But Ladreníl is right and our duty to our people must be put above our personal desires.”

            “What about Halbarad?  Should he ride with me?”  Estel stared at the ground as he walked, ignoring Halbarad’s sharp indrawn breath.  He knew that question needed to be answered, though it was not one that he could answer himself, it would have to be decided by someone he trusted.

            “I think that as long as I’m alive there is no reason for him not to ride with you.  You have him at your side in meetings so that he can learn from you and I see riding with you as no different.”

            Halbarad grinned in relief, “Besides you need someone to look after you, Aragorn.  Someone has to make sure you don’t starve when all you bring down are these very small deer.”

            Estel stopped with his hand on the door of the house and looked back at his cousin with narrowed eyes.  “Perhaps I will take Eradan with me tomorrow instead of you.”

            Halbarad simply laughed, “He brings in larger bucks than I do most of the time, so at least you’ll be well fed.”

            Sighing with resignation, Estel shook his head and pushed open the door deciding that any more words on the subject would only serve to annoy him further.

0-0-0

            The bandits were hauled out to the horses one at a time, blindfolded once again – Estel did not want them knowing the way to the village on the off chance that they escaped or had time to speak with anyone in Bree before they were, in all likelihood, executed.  Only Galt, who had to be gagged once again, and one other man struggled against Gilost and Halbarad who had to drag them from the building before hoisting them into the saddle and securing them tightly with stout rope.  Estel stood off to the side keeping one eye on things as he spoke with Halhigal and Nestad.

            “If the patrols start coming in before I return, go ahead and make the changes we discussed earlier.  You may lead one of the patrols now instead of assigning one of the other men as we had decided.”

            Halhigal nodded absently, his eyes focused on the loading of the horses.  His gaze suddenly shifted to Estel.  “Be very careful in Bree and do not stay there overlong.”  He glanced at Nestad who nodded imperceptibly.

            Estel gave him a thoughtful look, “Do you have the gift of foresight as well, Uncle?”

            “No.  But I know Bree and I know someplace so different might cause both you and my son to want to stay longer than would be wise.  There are rough men there and while I do not, of course, doubt your skill… or Halbarad’s… it is best to be involved with them as little as possible.  They will only see your youth.  In their eyes you appear much younger and they may try and goad you into a fight to rob you.  It has happened before.”

            “I see,” Estel replied, staring at the ground for a moment before looking back up at his uncle.  “I am inexperienced, but I am not a fool, Uncle.  Nor,” he glanced at Nestad, “do I need a keeper.  However, I will remember you words and will not stay in Bree longer than necessary.  But those people, and all the scattered peoples of Arnor, are also part of my responsibility, else why do we guard them?  It is a different responsibility than what it is for the Dúnedain, but it is there, Uncle.  And, after yesterday I believe I need to learn at least a little bit about those men and women.  But I will be careful, both for myself and for those in my company.”

            “Forgive me, my lord.  I did not mean to suggest that you needed someone to watch over you, but only to remind you of the… differences between us and the people of the Bree-lands and the other villages that dot the landscape of Eriador.”  Halhigal voice was quiet, but his eyes were grave as he looked as his nephew.

            “I do understand that and, as I said, I will be careful.  I will,” Estel glanced sidelong at Nestad, “listen to his counsel.  You know that I do not take what you or Nestad say lightly.  But I will also do the things I must to learn about the people there.”  He gazed steadily at Halhigal with a slight frown, wondering why he was being so persistent when he knew that he did not take risks needlessly.

            “Will you excuse us for a moment, Nestad?” Halhigal asked the healer who nodded and walked over to where the others were now waiting, the bandits on their horses.  Halhigal looked back at Estel and sighed deeply.  “I’m sorry, Aragorn.  I think that it concerns me more than I realized to not be going with you, as if I could protect you when you do not need my protection.”

            “Perhaps it is also the fact that Halbarad is leaving, Uncle Halhigal.”

            “Perhaps.  But it is time for him to go and I have long known that this day would come.  I think that with you,” he sighed, “it is more that I fear to lose another Chieftain.”  Halhigal paused and gave Estel a small smile, “Well, and my nephew, of course.  I didn’t mean to discount what you’ve come to mean to me personally as my sister’s son.”

            “I know you did not,” Estel replied with his own smile.  “You will have to trust me in this and as we have decided that you cannot accompany me, then you will also have to trust the other men that I travel with.”

            “I do,” he glanced over to where the men were patiently waiting and he reached out and clasped Estel’s arm tightly.  “May the Valar keep you safe, Aragorn.”

            Murmuring his thanks and his good-bye, Estel walked over and joined the waiting men.  He thanked Alvist for holding his horse before he checked the saddle and bridle and pulled himself into the saddle, carefully maneuvering his legs under the long ropes that ran from his pommel to the pommels of three of the bandit’s horses.  Gilost was to lead them this first day and he did not have any prisoners or packhorses tied to his horse so that at least one of them would be completely free of burdens.  As Estel settled into the saddle he gave him a nod and the Ranger led the small company out of the village. 

            Gilost led them north and west, once again skirting around the marshland and then picked up a trail heading west.  The woods they were riding through became more and more open the further west they traveled as they rode up and down gently rolling downs and through rock strewn areas.  They planned to ride west for several days before heading north to continue their journey to Bree on the Great East Road.  By staying off the road for a few days they would be able to avoid coming too close to the Trollshaws.  Though no trolls had been seen for over ten years, it was still an area the Rangers avoided. 

           An hour or so after noon Estel called a halt for lunch near a small stream.  The day, which had started out overcast and dreary, had changed and the clouds drifting away had left the sky a brilliant blue.  The sun reflected brightly back off the sparkling stream as they dismounted close to its bank.

            The prisoners were carefully helped down from their horses by Estel, Gilost, and Halbarad while Nestad covered them with an arrow nocked.  Deciding they were far enough away from the village, Estel removed the blindfolds and the men blinked and cursed at the bright light that suddenly hit them and which they could do little to block with their hands tied.  Once the bandits were all sitting on the ground, a good five feet between them, Halbarad handed out bread and a thin strip of dried meat to each of them, which they were able to eat even with their hands tied.  Estel decided that he needed to speak with them about their journey and to find out the names of the other three men.

            Standing in front of the bandits, Estel studied them as he chewed on his own meat and bread.  Only Galt and the man that had struggled so hard earlier when they were putting them on the horses could meet his eyes for more than a few seconds and even those two ducked their heads quite quickly.  Wiping his hands off on his leggings as soon as he finished his lunch, Estel began speaking in a low voice that was cold, stern, and unyielding.

            “You are being taken to Bree where we will let the people of that village judge and punish you for your brutal misdeeds.”  The men shifted uneasily, their face’s paling and Galt started to speak but the look of cold, contained fury on Estel’s face stopped him.  “I will not tolerate any disobedience from you as we journey and I expect you to follow my commands as well as the commands of any of my men.  You will not be mistreated as long as you follow our rules.  Do you understand?”  There were nods, some very hesitant ones. 

           “If you try to escape, you will be caught and shot.  Each of us is an excellent tracker and archer.  Do you understand?”  Again they nodded, much more quickly this time, having seen the previous day how quickly their friend had been shot.

           “You will never be untied more than one at a time.  I can think of no reason that there would ever be a need to do so.  Now, I need to know the names of the rest of you.”  Estel pointed to the man who, along with Galt, had caused the most trouble earlier in the day.

            “Dale Sundew,” he spat out, his eyes furious.

            Estel stared at him with his eyes narrowed, his grey eyes piercing and the man dropped his gaze almost immediately.  He watched the bandit for another minute as he remembered from his studies that the people in the Bree area had two names and the last one was some type of plant related name.  Estel shook himself from his musings and turned to the next man who quickly answered his unspoken request.

            “Kenrick Hosta, sir,” he stared down at the ground again.  Estel thought he was probably the closest in age to Will, but he simply turned an inquiring eye to the last man.

            “Beck Nightshade,” he scowled for a moment and then looked off into the woods.

            “Will, what is the rest of your name?”

            “Larkspur, sir.”

            “Galt?”

            Galt glared angrily at Estel and then he finally lowered his head as he mumbled his response, “Thornapple.”

            Nodding, Estel was turning to speak with Halbarad when Will spoke up, “S-sir? W-what do we call you?”

            Estel looked at his Rangers.  “Should I tell them our names?  Will it matter?”  Halbarad and Gilost shrugged and after a moments thought, Nestad did the same.  Estel turned back to Will who was looking quite anxious.  “You may call me Captain.  Halbarad, Gilost, Nestad,” Estel pointed to each in turn.  “We need to leave; we have a long way to travel.”

            Again Nestad stood back and watched intently as each man was put on his horse and tied.  Galt was last and Estel motioned for Gilost and Halbarad to grab the large man and haul him to his feet while he stepped back with his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

            “Scared of me, are ya?” Galt snarled at Estel, spitting in his general direction.  To Estel’s utter astonishment, Gilost backhanded Galt, splitting his lip and leaving a trail of blood across the bandit’s face.  Never would he have thought the normally easy-going Gilost capable of doing such a thing.  Though he knew the Ranger, like all of them, had been pushed very near the limits of his self-control yesterday after seeing what these bandits had done.

            “Gilost!” Estel called sharply.  “We will not treat him or any of them that way… unless they are attempting to escape or physically attacking one of us.”  He ignored the cries of protest and anger from the prisoners on the horses, seeing that Nestad had them covered with his bow.

            “Forgive me, my… Captain.  But I can’t just stand here and let him speak of you that way nor let him spit at you.”  Gilost looked at his Chieftain without a trace of remorse, his anger at what the men had done to the innocent travelers very near the surface and Galt’s comment and actions just added to that.

            Estel nodded in acceptance of the apology, though he did note that Gilost’s eyes were gleaming with satisfaction as he began to move Galt, who was cursing under his breath, towards his horse.  “Get him some water and cloth to wipe off his mouth before you put him on the horse.” 

            “Yer men are vicious, Captain,” Galt started in again as soon as he had spit the blood from his mouth, but subsided quickly as Gilost gave him a hard stare as he returned with the water.  Thrusting it at the bandit, who took it awkwardly in his tied hands, Gilost stood towering over the man and waited for him to clean himself off before he and Halbarad took him to his horse. 

           Galt did not resist this time, though Estel could hear him muttering under his breath.  He turned and gave Nestad an inquiring look as he wondered if he needed to say anything further to Gilost, but the healer just shook his head. Retrieving his horse Estel retightened the girth straps and checked the bit before mounting.  As they rode on into the afternoon, Estel realized that this journey was going to be a lot longer than he had first thought.

0-0-0

            They stopped for the night in a hollow bordered by trees that Gilost led them to.  Again Nestad stood guard as they got the bandits down and Estel was beginning to see how long of a process this was going to take everyday and he wondered if they could come up with some other way to deal with it.  Though he doubted they could ever trust any of the men enough to let them mount their horses by themselves.  Probably less so the closer they got to Bree and the bandit’s desperation grew.  They then had eleven horses to care for as well as setting up the camp and fixing a meal.  As soon as the men were on the ground and tied to trees, Estel set Nestad to work on making supper while he, Gilost, and Halbarad started in on the horses.

            “We should have brought Alvist and Rosruin with us… Captain,” Halbarad commented as he started stripping the tack from a second horse.

            Glancing up from where he was brushing off another horse, Estel grinned as he replied, “I did suggest bringing Eradan along instead of you.  He would not have complained… Ranger.”  Halbarad grinned in return and turned back to the horse.  Estel glanced briefly at Gilost who had been quiet since the break for lunch and he wondered what was going through his mind.  He found out as they finished with the horses and began setting up the tent that the Rangers would share.

            “My lord,” Gilost whispered.

            Estel looked up from where he was crouched down tying off a corner of the tent and saw that Gilost’s eyes were full of regret and shame and Estel finished what he was doing and stood up.  “Yes?”

            “I truly am sorry for striking Galt, my lord.  I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that and I want you to know that it won’t happen again.”

            “I am sure it will not.”  Estel gave him a long, searching look, “I do understand how you feel, Gilost, and I have been tempted to hit him myself.  But you know we cannot, it is not right to do so.  It will not bring them back,” he added softly.  Gilost nodded and looked off into the woods with a long drawn out sigh.  Estel touched his arm and the Ranger looked back at him.  “We need to finish getting the tent up before it gets dark.”  He knew that there was nothing more that needed to be said, that Gilost would never again strike Galt, or any of the men without true cause.

            The bandit’s hands were untied so that they could eat the stew that Nestad had made, though Halbarad watched them closely and their feet remained tied to a tree.  After supper their hands were retied and they were given a blanket that, along with the nearby fire, would keep them warm through the night.  Estel set the watches so that two of the Rangers were up for half of the night while the other two slept and he and Halbarad slipped into the tent for their four hours of sleep.  Nestad woke them around midnight and, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes, the two young men stumbled out to the low burning fire.

            “Have they been quiet?”  Nestad and Gilost nodded at Estel’s question and headed into the tent.  Halbarad took off to make a wide circle of the camp while Estel checked the prisoners, studying the ropes – what he could see of them in the dim light, but none appeared to have been tampered with and he retreated back to the warmth of the fire.

            “I didn’t see or sense anything,” Halbarad reported as he joined Estel at the fire, both of them facing the sleeping men.  He took out his pipe and began filling it, giving Estel a questioning glance as he did so.  But Estel shook his head and looked up at the stars which were shimmering brightly in the late night sky.  His thoughts were drawn briefly to Arwen as they often were when he looked at the stars and he wondered if she had returned to Lothlórien or still remained in Imladris.  Estel pulled himself from his thoughts and looked back down at the ground.

            A couple of hours before dawn, Estel nudged Halbarad and indicated the bandits where one of them was starting to stir.  They watched him carefully and he suddenly sat straight up, his eyes wide and fearful.  It was Will.  Exchanging a grimace with Halbarad, Estel slowly got to his feet and crossed to the man, crouching down alongside him.  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

            Will did not look up but simply nodded his head when he replied, “I’m f-fine, sir.  It… it was just a bad dream.”  He glanced up, relaxing slightly at the unexpected compassion he saw in the captain’s face.

            “I see.  Well, you should try and get some more sleep; it will be another long day.”  Estel started to move when Will spoke again.

            “S-sir?  Are we going to be… am I going to die?” he finally whispered.

            “It is not in my hands to decide on your punishment, Will.  But based on what happened to those families,” Estel’s eyes hardened and Will dropped his gaze and shuddered.  “I would think so.  What do you think would be an appropriate punishment for men who did something like that to innocent men, women, and children?” he asked softly.

            Will shrugged as he replied in a low voice, “I don’t k-know.  I don’t want to… die,” he choked out.

            “Then you should not have joined these men,” Estel replied sternly.  He tried to keep the image of the murdered families, as horrific as it was, in mind as he talked to Will.  This man’s youth and fear was pulling at his compassionate nature and he needed to remind himself that Will had helped to kill those people.

            “I had no choice.”

            “You always have a choice, Will.  Always.”

            “I-I had no f-food… no money and I was starving and-and Galt said they w-would t-take care of me.  I didn’t know,” he said bitterly.

            “Were you in Bree?”  Will nodded.  “And no one helped you or you could not find work… even to be paid in food?”

            “I asked in a f-few places and n-no one would take me.  T-they were leaving town and-and so I left with them,” he mumbled.

            “You had your horse?”  Estel asked sharply and Will looked up, puzzled, as he slowly nodded his head and Estel sighed deeply.

            “There was a choice you could have made.  You could have sold your horse and had enough money to live on for quite some time.  Long enough to find a decent job.”

            “B-but I love my horse and…”

            Estel interrupted him.  “And look what it has cost you.  Go to sleep, Will.”  Shaking his head in dismay, Estel arose and went back to the fire, sitting down next to Halbarad with a groan.  “Did you hear any of that?” he asked his cousin.

            “No, your voices were too low.”

            Estel quickly told him what Will had said and Halbarad shook his head sadly.  “I wonder what brought him to the place where he had no food,” he said as Estel finished.

            “He did not say and I did not ask.  I wonder if all of them have similar tales,” he mused as he looked over their sleeping forms.  “That… Kenrick seems not quite as hard and calloused as the other three.”

            “He is still young… not much older than Will, I think.  And, yet both of them have been in on at least one of these raids, probably more,” Halbarad said broodingly.  He shook his head, “I suppose it does not matter how or why they got to this point, they will be dead in a couple of weeks for the things they have done.”

            “Yes, they will.” 

They fell silent then and the rest of the night passed without much speech between them.  It was well before dawn and still dark when they woke up Gilost and Nestad to begin another long day on the trail.

0-0-0

            Estel was leading them along the road late in the afternoon on the fourth day out from Dolomar when they approached the Last Bridge that spanned the River Hoarwell.  The large stone bridge had been built by elves many centuries past and he looked it over curiously as they crossed, having heard tales of its building when he was a child.  The land they were riding through was filled with ancient stone ruins that they caught glimpses of through the evergreen trees and thick brush as they rode past and Estel thought of the great kingdoms and battles that had taken place here so long ago.

            The sky was full of dark clouds and it had rained hard, though briefly, earlier in the afternoon.  Now, though, the dark clouds just cast a pall over the men as they rode through the gloom caused by the clouds and towering trees.  Estel began looking for a place to stop for the night before the twilight deepened further.

            “Captain,” Nestad’s voice called to him from behind and Estel twisted in his saddle and looked back at the healer.  Once they had begun traveling on the road, they had changed the way the prisoners were harnessed together.  Now they were strung out in one long line with one packhorse between Galt and Beck and the other between Beck and Dale to keep the bandits that caused the most trouble apart from each other.  Will and Kenrick rode behind Dale.  At the front of the line, Galt’s horse was tied to Halbarad’s while Nestad and Gilost rode alongside the prisoners or dropped back as needed.

            “What is it, Nestad?”  Estel heard the concern in the healer’s voice and he scanned their surroundings with narrowed eyes trying to see what caused Nestad’s uneasiness.  Gilost and Halbarad also began looking back and the horses, picking up on their masters’ unease, began to dance nervously under their riders causing the prisoners to curse as they had no means of bringing them under control.  Estel turned and rode back to Nestad, motioning Halbarad to keep the bandits moving.

            Nestad shifted uneasily in his saddle and glanced back once again to where he thought he had seen a glimpse of something in the woods.  Something was wrong, though he could not define it, but he had been a Ranger for far too long to not trust his instincts.  “Captain, we need to get off the road,” he said urgently, looking over at Estel with troubled eyes.

            Estel did not hesitate, he trusted Nestad and while he did not see anything, something did feel off to him as well.  He looked around and a short distance ahead of them and to the right of the road the ground started gradually climbing before rather abruptly taking a sharp upward turn before leveling off again some twenty feet above the road.  Estel could not tell how wide the ledge might be because of the trees covering it, but he could not see an end to it from where he sat his horse.  It appeared to be about forty yards long before it abruptly dropped off again on the west side. Feeling it was the best protection they would find in the short time they had, for at least they would have the upper hand and could shoot down on anyone who might attack them, he motioned to the area and Nestad nodded.

            Cantering back to the front of the line, Estel spoke to Halbarad, glancing back at Galt and the other bandits as he did so.  “Something is wrong.  We are going to seek safety up in that area,” he pointed it out to Halbarad who simply nodded and urged his horse into a canter. 

            “What’s wrong?” Galt cried, struggling against his bonds and trying to see over his shoulder.  His men followed suit.  Estel ignored them and turned to Gilost.

            “Gilost, ride ahead and see if it is safe.”  The Ranger nodded and galloped ahead.  Estel kept one eye on Gilost and the other back towards Nestad as he rode half turned in his saddle.  He saw that it was a struggle for Gilost to get his horse up the slope, especially at the top, and he worried about trying to get the bandits up it without them having the use of their hands to guide and encourage their horses.  Just as they reached the spot where Gilost had left the road their fears were suddenly realized.  Two hundred yards back down the road a large troop of orcs came storming out of the woods.

            Estel swore softly under his breath.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin. Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.

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Chapter 17

            “Go, Halbarad!” Estel shouted, motioning him to lead the string of horses and bandits up the steep loose grass and rock covered incline while he lingered at the edge of the road watching the approaching orcs.  Halbarad charged up the slope, but as Estel had feared, the horses of the bandits faltered without their direct guidance.  He urged his horse after them and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nestad do the same on the opposite side.  Estel grabbed a bridle on one of the packhorses and pulled on it, speaking softly to it at the same time, encouraging it to keep going.  But the horses in front of it were struggling and holding this one back.  Without conscious thought, Estel pulled his belt knife and swiftly sliced through the rope holding the packhorse to the horses in front of it. 

            Now, with only three horses tied to his, Halbarad was able to urge his horse on, though it was still a struggle.  Above them, Gilost emerged from the trees with his bow strung and watched in horror as they struggled up the slope ahead of the rapidly approaching orcs.  Unable to secure a good grip on the packhorse and conscious of the danger, Estel finally slipped from his horse and sent it up the hill with a sharp command.  Trained in Imladris, the horse obeyed without pause and bolted up the incline while Estel turned to the packhorse and the three other horses attached to it.  The prisoner’s eyes were wide with fear as they yelled and kicked their horses harshly to try and get them to move up the slope.  The horses squealed and snorted in fear and anger, rearing and dancing sideways.  Tied together as they were, it threatened to tangle the long rope holding them together.

            The packhorse, which Estel had under some measure of control, was being pulled back down by the other horses in their struggle.  Holding the rope tightly, Estel followed it down the length of the horse and cut it, setting the packhorse free.  It immediately shot away, taking the easy way… back down the slope to the road and heading west away from the orcs.  Dismissing it from his mind, Estel focused on the three rearing, frightened horses in front of him, each with a struggling, frightened man on it.  He risked a quick glance at the oncoming orcs and saw that he had only a precious few minutes left before they would be within range of their bows.  Above him he could hear Halbarad’s shouts as he urged his charges on.  Nestad suddenly appeared behind him, yelling above the sounds of the horses’ loud, fearful neighing.

            “Cut the men loose, Aragorn!”

            While Estel thought that was a good idea, he first had to actually get to the men.  He thrust the rope into Nestad’s hands and approached the horses as quickly as he dared, ducking around flying hoofs.  He got to Will’s horse first even though he was in the middle; the way the horses were swinging around made it possible.  He grabbed the bridle and spoke soothingly to the horse which stopped rearing though it moved nervously from side to side.  Estel quickly sliced through the rope that bound Will’s feet together and then the ones securing his hands to the saddle.  Estel jerked him from the horse and pushed him up the hill.  “Go,” he yelled, turning away without watching to see what he did.  If he wanted to run away and risk the orcs, it was his own life to risk. 

            Again watching out for the hoofs of the horses, Estel darted to the last horse in the line, the one Kenrick was on.  This horse calmed as he rubbed its nose briefly.  Again he quickly cut the bonds holding the man to the horse and pulled him from the saddle.  Kenrick fell to the ground before scrambling to his feet and making a dash up the hill.  Estel started making his way back up the line of horses to the first one where Dale sat frantically pulling on the ropes that bound him.  He was not helping the horse calm down, even though Nestad was telling him repeatedly to stop so that the horse would settle enough that he could cut the ropes.  Estel was just reaching the horse when arrows began falling around them.  Dale began screaming for help, his horse rearing and finally it jerked its head back so viciously that the rope slid through Nestad’s hands.  He lunged for it but he was too late as the horse backed out of reach.  An arrow came flying in just then and hit, not Dale’s horse, but the one that Will had been riding and it squealed in pain, jumping ahead and into Dale’s horse.  The horse bolted, taking Dale with it.  The horses belonging to Kenrick and Will which were still tied to the saddle followed as they tore off down the road heading west.

            Estel and Nestad watched in horror as Dale’s horse sped down the road, knowing there was nothing they could do for the man.  Perhaps if they survived this, they would be able to find him, but if not, he faced a long, slow death.  Rangers did not tie their bonds lightly and there was little chance he would escape from them.  Suddenly aware of the arrows as they continued to land around them, Estel and Nestad fell flat and began crawling on their bellies up the steepest part of the hill.  As they neared the ledge, Estel felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his left calf and he let out a loud yelp of pain.

            “Aragorn!” Nestad looked over at him in alarm, paling at the sight of the black arrow sticking out of his Chieftain’s calf.  He reached a hand out to grab him, but Estel shook his head.

            “Keep going,” he hissed, grimacing in pain as he continued the last few feet to the top.  Gilost was there, then, to pull him up and over the edge and back out of sight into the shelter of the trees and boulders that dotted the area.  He laid still for a moment, panting heavily, his hands digging deeply into the long grass and dirt.  Estel could feel a trickle of blood flowing down his leg.

            “Aragorn!” Halbarad dropped to his knees beside him, grabbing one of his cousin’s hands in his own.  He made an abortive gesture towards the arrow, thought better of it and simply laid his hand on Estel’s head.

            “Help me up,” Estel said through clenched teeth.

            “You’re hurt,” he protested, pointing out the obvious.

            “Get me to my feet, I can use my bow. It…it does not hurt that much,” he lied rather poorly.

            “Halbarad!” Nestad yelled, “We need you now!”

            Halbarad looked over his shoulder to where Nestad and Gilost were firing down at the oncoming orcs.  “Stay still,” he said, patting his shoulder and starting to get up.

            “Help me up.  That is an order.”

            “One I’m not obeying, my lord,” he replied tersely as he left.

            “Halbarad!” Estel called sharply, but his cousin ignored him.  Groaning with pain and displeasure, he looked around for something to brace himself on so that he could lever himself to his feet.  His eyes fell on Will and Kenrick who were watching him with shock and fear.  Galt and Beck, who had been tied to trees, wore malicious grins even though their eyes held fear at the growls and grunts of the oncoming orcs.  “Will, come here and help me up.  Now,” he added when the man did not move as fast as Estel thought he should. 

            Will moved to Estel’s side, though he did not like the thought of going closer to the edge of the ledge and nearer the orcs.  Will leaned down grasping Estel under his arms and none too gently hauled him to his feet.  Gasping and hissing in pain, Estel shot Will a dirty look as he clung to him until he had his balance.  Loosing his grip on Will, Estel balanced on his right leg as he took his bow from his back.  “Go sit down and do not move, Will.  You either, Kenrick.”

            “I’m not going anywhere!” the fear in Will’s voice was obvious.  Kenrick looked away and did not respond.

            Estel strung his bow and nocked an arrow before hopping back to the edge where Gilost, Halbarad, and Nestad were carefully picking out and shooting orcs who had taken refuge behind the boulders and were trying to creep up the slope.  Standing behind a large tree and leaning against it, Estel surveyed the scene below him, assessing the number of orcs and the probable routes they would take up the hill.  They needed to be sure that the beasts did not come around and attack from the sides.  It was already getting hard to see them, and Estel thought they had about an hour before full dark when the advantage they held by virtue of holding the higher ground would switch to the orcs with their superior night vision.

            Nestad crept closer, hiding behind a boulder near Estel.  “How do you fare?” he asked worriedly.  He looked his Chieftain over carefully, seeing his pale, drawn face and clenched jaw.  The arrow appeared to be on the outside of his leg so Nestad could only hope that it had not struck bone.

            “I have felt better,” he responded with a grimace, not looking at the healer.  Estel quickly raised his bow and shot an orc that had raised its head too far above the boulder it was hiding behind.  He bit his lip at the pain when he had to steady himself by dropping his injured left leg to the ground.  But the orc died and that was all that mattered.  Estel turned his head to the left, seeking Gilost and saw him crouching behind a clump of bushes staring down intently, his bow taut.  Just after the Ranger loosed the arrow, Estel heard a scream of pain that was quickly cut off.

            “Gilost,” Estel called. “How many are there?”

            “There were seventy or so, but a few continued on after the horses and we’ve killed some.  There are probably about sixty left down below here, but I worry about those that left coming back and flanking us,” he gestured to the right.

            “These aren’t anxious to attack now,” Nestad said.  “They can wait until it is truly dark before coming up.”

            Estel frowned as he looked down and saw that Nestad was right.  The orcs had settled in behind the rocks, seemingly content to wait for another hour.  He turned his upper body, keeping his left leg as still as possible, and scanned the area around and behind them.  Halbarad was well to the right of where he was standing, lying on the ground among some rocks and peering over the edge.  Beyond Halbarad were more trees and rocks and Estel could not tell how close to the western edge of the ledge they were.  Ten yards behind him were the horses and bandits, the horses still shifting nervously with the smell of the orcs in the air.  The bandits were quiet and watchful.  Estel was not particularly worried about them at this point.  He turned his gaze back to Gilost.

            “Do you know how far back the ledge goes?  Did you see anything when you arrived?”

            “No, I just tied my horse and hurried back here.”

            A sound to his right made Estel turn too quickly and the shaft of the arrow hit the tree; all of the color drained from Estel’s face and he hissed in pain.  Clutching his bow tightly and leaning hard against the tree he returned his focus to the orcs below, missing the concerned glances that Gilost and Nestad exchanged.  “Gilost,” he said, glancing back at him, “I think we have a few minutes right now.  Go and scout back behind the bandits and see how wide the ledge is.  I would like a way to escape if we need to.”  Estel did not think that was going to be possible, but he did want to know all of their options.  They might defeat the orcs in battle, though the odds were slim with the approaching darkness.  Their bows would be of little use in the woods after dark and, with him injured as he was, they would be hard pressed to battle a group even half the size that were gathered below.  A bow was one thing, but he knew that using his sword would be much more difficult when he was having such a hard time putting weight on his leg.  Though, he had no intention of giving up.  Gilost hesitated and then slipped away.

            “Ara… Captain, I know there is no time to remove the arrow, but can I at least cut the end of it off?  It will not lessen your pain, but it should keep you from hitting it on most things and give you greater freedom of movement.”

            Glancing down at the waiting orcs and then back at the very concerned healer, Estel nodded and watched as a relieved expression crossed Nestad’s face briefly. 

            “Halbarad, I need your help,” Nestad called quietly.  Crouching low, Halbarad hurried to them with a questioning look.  “I need you to hold him still while I cut the arrow here,” he indicated a place on the arrow that would leave about three inches still visible in Estel’s leg.  Estel braced himself against the tree, keeping a wary eye on the orcs below.  Both because it needed to be done and to distract himself from the pain that he knew was coming.

            Halbarad grabbed Estel firmly around his ankle and placed his other hand tightly just below his knee.  He leaned his body hard against his cousin, pinning him to the tree and he nodded at Nestad.  The healer took a deep breath and firmly grasped the arrow in his left hand, ignoring the sharp indrawn breath of his Chieftain.  While his knife was extremely sharp, it still took several strokes to cut through the dense wood and Estel bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

            “I’m finished,” Nestad informed Estel quietly as he threw the shaft of the arrow into the bushes.

            Estel nodded his thanks as Nestad handed him a waterskin.  He rinsed the blood out of his mouth before taking a long drink and handing it back.  As Halbarad started to move away, Estel grabbed him by his cloak and pulled him back.  “We will talk later about obeying my commands,” he said fiercely, glaring at him.

            Halbarad shrugged Estel’s hand loose, “I hope we are able to talk later, Captain,” he retorted, glaring right back before creeping away to his own spot.

            Nestad patted Estel’s shoulder.  “He’ll always be torn between his care and concern for you and his duty as a Ranger.”

            “He needs to do what I tell him,” Estel replied, his eyes not leaving the slope below.

            “You don’t want blind obedience, my lord… not from any of your men.  But this is not a discussion we need to have right now.”

            Estel did not answer as he watched Halbarad shoot an orc and listened to the grunts and howls continue below him.  Gilost returned then and saved him from answering at all.

            “This ledge extends back about a half mile before sloping upward again.  But in front of the slope are more of the ruins we’ve been seeing.  It’s not much, but more protection than here.”

            “We would truly be trapped.”

            Gilost nodded once, “I know.  But the trees are not so thick around it… there is a small clearing… and if we can last the night, then they would be forced to retreat at least into the trees and perhaps we could escape.  Here…” he gave a helpless shrug.

            Furrowing his brow as he considered the matter for a moment Estel finally glanced at Nestad.

            “Without seeing it, I can give you no real counsel, but I do trust Gilost’s judgment.  And we stand little hope here.  Not with them.”  He gestured to the bandits and horses.

            “Halbarad,” Estel beckoned for him to join them.  He knew they would follow his commands without question, but this was a situation where he wanted all of them to say what they felt.  Estel quickly told Halbarad what Gilost had found and what they were considering.  The young Ranger seemed surprised that his opinion was being asked.

            “I don’t like the thought of being trapped there,” he finally responded.  “Have you thought about leaving the horses and just slipping away?  I’m sure we could…” Halbarad’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Estel’s leg with a grimace.  “Perhaps we could take one horse and…”  Nestad put his hand on Halbarad’s shoulder and he stopped talking.

            “I don’t think either of those things are possible, Halbarad.  The orcs would quickly realize we were gone and we could end up in a worse situation than we are in right now,” the oldest man of the four said quietly.  Nestad turned his gaze to his Chieftain and waited for his decision which was swiftly given.

            “Halbarad, Nestad, stay here and keep watch on the orcs while Gilost and I move the prisoners and horses.  Listen for our call and then come quickly.  Whistle if you need help.”  At that Estel gingerly turned and hobbled off, his jaw clenched against the pain.  He unstrung and shouldered his bow, pulling his sword as he stood over the four bandits.  “We are moving back to a place that we hope will be safer.  Someplace we may be able to defend through the night when the orcs will be forced to retreat somewhat and we may be able to escape.  I suggest you come along peacefully.”

            “Orcs or the men in Bree, we’ll still be dead,” Galt said bitterly.

            Estel read the fear in Galt’s eyes and knew he was speaking more out of habit and to impress his men than any real desire to escape and face the orcs.  “I believe you would find there is a great deal of difference between the two, Galt.  The men in Bree do not eat the men they sentence to death.  Nor do they tear them apart while they are still alive.” Estel shifted his gaze briefly to Will as the young man let out an involuntary cry.  “I will loosen your bonds so that you may walk to where we are going.  If you chose to run, we will not stop you but I am sure that the orcs will.”

            Will and Kenrick got to their feet at the look Estel gave them.  Though he did not fear them running, he did think they might attack him and Estel held his sword ready and watched Galt and Beck closely as he untied the rope holding them to the tree.  He stepped back warily as they stood, but neither man showed any sign of either attacking him or fleeing.  They feared the orcs too much and were willing to take their chances with these Rangers… for now.  If they survived and the journey continued they would not hesitate to attempt an escape, but they had no choice right now but to hope these men that held them captive would be able to protect them from the orcs.

            “Will,” Estel hesitated and then asked Kenrick as well.  He had noticed his earlier refusal to answer him and was less certain of Kenrick than he was of Will, but he really did not think the man would attempt to escape even with a horse.  “You and Kenrick help Gilost lead the horses.  Galt, Beck, walk in front of me,” he gestured with his sword and with scowls the two men started moving in the right direction.  Estel followed close behind, biting his lip against the stabbing pain that each step brought.  By the time the ruins were in sight, he was sweating profusely and the pain was nearly intolerable, but he wore an impassive expression as he told Galt and Beck to halt as they waited for Gilost and the others.

            Gilost gave Estel a piercing glance and his mouth tightened into a thin line at the pain he read in his Chieftain’s eyes as he led his three horses past, but he knew nothing could be done so he continued on into the ruins without a word.  The ruins had evidently been some sort of small rest station for men who had patrolled the roads in the distant past.  It was not large, no more than thirty feet wide across the front and extending back some sixty feet.  The walls were made of large stones that had been carefully fitted together and then mortared in place, though the mortar was crumbling.  Stones had fallen and a couple of large gaps could be seen in the front of the building.  The sides appeared to be mostly intact, except for a few places where stones had fallen from the tops of the walls.  The rear of the building was directly up against the almost cliff like slope and seemed secure.  The roof was gone, it appeared to have been made of wood and except for a few scattered pieces of rotten wood there was little evidence that there had ever even been a roof.  The floor of the building was stone and was covered with dried pine needles and leaves that were stacked quite high in the corners where the wind had blown them.  

            The horses were taken back into the furthest room and tied securely and, with only a little grumbling from Galt and Beck, the four bandits were tied nearby.  Estel looked around for a way to bar the open doorway leading into the building, but there was nothing in the ruins that could be used and he sighed wearily.  Seeing that all was in readiness, he whistled for Halbarad and Nestad to join them and the two men came on a dead run.  Estel could barely make them out in the deep twilight that had crept over the land in the last ten minutes.

            “Halbarad, take that area down there,” Estel gestured to his left.  “Nestad, there is a large gap in the wall to the right.  Gilost and I will cover the doorway,” said Estel.

            “My lord, let Halbarad or I cover the door with Gilost.  The brunt of the attack will be here and you are injured.”

            “I am a better swordsman than either of you, even if I am injured.  I will deal with the pain, Nestad, because I must.”  Estel paused and looked away briefly before meeting the healer’s eyes again and giving him a wry smile.  “I also thought that it might be best if… if I was not solely responsible for an area, but was fighting with someone else.”

            “Perhaps, but…” whatever Nestad was going to say was cut off by the loud calls and roars of the orcs.

            “I believe they’ve discovered that we’ve disappeared,” Gilost said grimly.

            “May the Valar protect you, Halbarad,” Estel whispered as his cousin walked past him and Halbarad stopped and gave him a quick, firm embrace before moving on.

            Estel restrung his bow, preparing to use it as the orcs crossed the small clearing in front of the building.  Hopefully, it would be enough to keep them back and to make them hesitate.  The longer they could keep the orcs away from the building and hand-to-hand fighting the better it would be.

            The first four orcs into the clearing died with barely a curse escaping their mouths.  Several more died as the four men loosed arrows into the darkness, their eyes focusing on the small flashes given off by the orc’s swords or any metal they wore.  They could hear shouts of rage and then whoever was in charge of the troop was giving some kind of order.  At least it sounded like it, none of the Rangers spoke the black speech, but it sounded like orders were being yelled out and they could hear the heavy sounds of feet stomping in the bushes across the clearing.

            Arrows came whistling into the ruins and Estel and the others pressed themselves up against the walls of the building as they passed harmlessly overhead.  Peeking around a corner of the doorway, Estel and Gilost watched alertly for orcs trying to sneak across the clearing and they shot at any movement they saw.  The orcs grew bolder as time passed and Estel wondered if it was simply impatience or if they suspected they were running out of arrows.  He was down to three arrows now and he sensed it would not be long before the orcs decided to rush them.

            It suddenly become almost silent… as silent as orcs could be and for a time there were no arrows from the orcs and no movement in the clearing.  Estel exchanged a grim look with Gilost. He had been able to brace himself well enough while using his bow that his injured leg had not bothered him overmuch.  But now with having to use his sword, he knew it would be different and he attempted to put his full weight on his leg.  A shooting pain went up his leg and he grimaced and bit his lip.  Ignoring the pain, he gingerly shifted from side to side to try and prepare for the adjustments his body needed to make when wielding his sword.  He tapped his fingers nervously against his sword and he thought of his family as he waited for the orcs.

            When they came, the orcs came en masse with the intent to overwhelm them.  As they expected, the majority of the orcs appeared to be headed for the wide doorway and small groups aimed for the smaller gaps in the wall that were defended by Halbarad and Nestad.  A few more orcs were taken down by arrows, but bows were quickly cast aside in favor of swords as soon as the beasts drew near.

            While the doorway was wide, it was not wide enough for more than three or four of the orcs to engage Estel and Gilost at one time.  The two men stood as close together as possible without hampering each other’s long and violent swings of their swords.  The loud clashing and screeching of metal filled the air as the orcs finally reached the ruins and ran head-long into the fierce defenders.

            Estel pushed all thoughts and feelings of pain aside and concentrated solely on the orcs in front of him.  As usual, the orcs relied on brute strength to try and overwhelm them… with no success.  Estel knocked aside the sword of the first orc and just as quickly slit its throat before turning slightly and stabbing a second one under its arm and deep into its heart.  Both fell silently and Estel spared them not a second glance before turning to the two that took their place.  After seeing their comrades fall so quickly these two were a little more hesitant, but tried rushing Estel together.  It made no difference.  Estel blocked the rushed blow from the orc to his right and then danced backward, without his usual grace but managing it nonetheless, out of the swinging blade of the orc on his left.  He was able to somehow duck under the blade of the first orc while at the same time bringing his own sword up and under its defenses and driving it deep into its stomach.  He pulled his sword out quickly, trying, without success, to avoid the black blood the dying orc was spilling as it slumped moaning and gasping to the ground.  The second orc’s blade was nearing his head as he pulled his sword from the dying orc and immediately raised it up to block the incoming blade.  The resulting clash made his teeth rattle and he shuddered slightly even as he pushed hard on the blade, forcing the orc to stumble back.  It gave Estel just enough room to thrust his sword through the foul creature’s heart.

            As he continued to fight, Estel could sense Gilost next to him and knew that he was doing well, that he was having little problem with the orcs he faced.  His main worry was the sheer number of orcs and how long they could continue at this pace.  While he could not see them, Estel could hear Halbarad and Nestad and he thought that Halbarad had let out a small cry of pain at one time, but whatever had happened it had not been enough to overcome him as he could still hear him fighting.  He tried to think of a way for them to force the orcs to withdraw for a time, but nothing came to mind as he fought the newest orcs that he faced.  Though, it was rather hard to face and fight two very determined opponents and to come up with a plan of escape.

            Gilost hissed in pain and fury at the sword that had just sliced him open across his left forearm.  At least it was not his sword arm, but it was painful and deep and the blood that was pouring from the wound would weaken him.  His eyes sparked with anger as he quickly cut down the orc that had done the damage.

            “What… happened?” Estel called out urgently with an undercurrent of both concern and fear in his voice.

            “A… cut… my… left arm.”

            “Do you… need help?” Estel glanced at him briefly from the corner of his eye.

            “No!  Later,” he panted.

            “All right.”  Estel knew there was little he could do for him except perhaps slide a little closer but that might hinder both of them and so he stayed where he was, grimly determined to make it through the long night.

            They had been fighting for a couple of hours, the orcs retreating occasionally to regroup which allowed them brief respites, when something happened.  Estel was not sure what it was, but something was happening and he first noticed it because the orcs he was fighting became distracted and he was able to kill them quite easily.  The other orcs paused in their attacks as well and he exchanged a puzzled glance with Gilost and dropped back further inside the building.  While he did not know what had caused the orcs to stop, he was fully willing to take advantage of the rest it provided.  Glancing around, Estel saw that Halbarad and Nestad were doing the same.

            Then they heard it.  It was the sound of arrows and they were striking into the bodies of the orcs from the trees surrounding the small clearing.  The orcs suddenly realized what was happening and they panicked, running to and fro, howling in fear and anger.

            “Rangers!” Gilost exclaimed hopefully.  “It has… to be.  No one else… would be here… or would attack orcs.”  A smile appeared on his lips and lit up his eyes.

             “Or, elves,” Estel felt obligated to point out, though the Imladris patrols rarely, if ever, patrolled this far west of their lands.

            “Should we join them, Captain?” Nestad asked grinning; his relief at having survived was overwhelming.

            Estel shook his head, “No, I think they would have a hard time telling us apart.  But remain alert, the orcs may try and escape into the ruins.  Halbarad?  How do you fare?” he called down to his cousin who had not moved from his spot.

            “I’m… all right, Aragorn.  Just a small injury that will need… stitches, I think.”

            Estel frowned at the way Halbarad was speaking.  He did not sound all right, but he could wait a few more minutes to check on him.  Seeing that Gilost’s wound was still slowly dripping, Estel carefully ripped off a strip of his own shirt and gently pushed Gilost’s sleeve up and then bound the wound until it could be cleaned and stitched.  Turning his attention to the battle, it appeared to be dying down as most of the orcs were either dead or had fled the area.  He let out a series of bird whistles and chirps to let the Rangers, if that’s indeed who they were, know that there were Rangers in the ruins.  After a moment, cautious whistles were returned and he smiled at Gilost.

            “I am going to check on Halbarad.”  Estel hobbled carefully to his cousin’s side and found him slumped against the wall holding his left hand gingerly, his eyes glazed with pain.  “What happened?” he asked quietly, reaching for the injured hand.  There were indeed several jagged gashes that would need stitches but that was not what concerned Estel.  What concerned him was the way Halbarad was cradling it against his body to protect it.  He flinched when Estel barely touched it and without checking it further, Estel knew that it was either severely sprained, or more likely, broken.

            “It got hit with one of those large… club like things some of them use.  One with sharp, pointy things on it,” Halbarad gave him a grim smile.  “At least it wasn’t a sword.  I know this will heal.”

            “Yes, it will, though it will be painful to set and while it heals.  But you are alive and that is the most important thing.”

            “Is anyone else hurt?” Halbarad asked as he let Estel lean on him and hop as they made their way back to the doorway.  The adrenaline that had sustained him earlier was rapidly disappearing.

            “Gilost has a long slice on his left forearm that will need stitches.”

            “It appears that Nestad will be busy.”

            “I will help.  My leg will not keep me from doing stitches and…”

            Nestad interrupted him.  “Your leg may not, but I will, my Lord Aragorn.  You need to get off of your leg right now.  There is no sense in risking further damage to yourself when there is no need.  Bring him over here, Halbarad.”  His tone brooked no nonsense and he just returned Estel’s dark look with one of his own.  Finally Estel gave a small nod, knowing that the healer was right and that he would insist on his men doing the same.

            “Very well, Nestad, I will sit down, but I will not allow you to work on my leg until we see who is out there.”  He carefully sat down on a piece of stone that had been part of the wall, his leg stretched out in front of him.

            “Of course not, my lord.  I would not think of doing that!”

            Estel just looked at him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief and the healer gave him a small smile and shrugged.  “And, I believe we agreed that you would call me captain.  I know it’s hard in a stressful situation and the bandits are back there,” he waved behind him, “but you must try to do so.”  There were sheepish nods and then Gilost straightened up from his post at the door.

            “Someone is coming,” he said in a low voice.  He gave a bird call that was a Ranger greeting and it was quickly returned and the four men relaxed.

            The Ranger stopped uncertainly just outside of the doorway, looking down with disgust at the dead orcs that blocked his way.  He looked up again and spoke, “Who is here?  There should not be any patrols in this area.”

            Gilost smiled as he recognized the voice.  “It’s Gilost, Faelon.  I’m here with Halbarad and our…” he glanced back at Estel who shook his head.  “Our captain and Nestad.”

            Faelon frowned as he thought.  What was Nestad doing here? And who was this captain without a name… oh.  But why did they not simply call him Aragorn or Chieftain?  Well, he supposed he would find out soon enough if he could just get over these dead bodies.  Since he now knew who was within the ruins, Faelon turned and called to his Rangers and the five men came trotting up from various spots around the clearing.

            They grimly pulled the bodies of the orcs to the side and within minutes Faelon and his men were inside the ruins greeting their Chieftain and fellow Rangers.

            “Well met, Faelon!” Estel said with a weary smile as he looked up at the grim-faced patrol leader.  “I am very glad to see you, though you seem to be well east of your patrol area.”

            Faelon crouched down next to Estel, his sharp eyes looking over and finding what was left of the arrow in his Chieftain’s calf and he grimaced, knowing the pain he must be in.  His gaze met Estel’s questioning one then.  “We are,” he admitted.  “We’ve been tracking these orcs for almost a week as they came down from the northwest.  We feared they were making for our villages in the Angle.”

            “Perhaps they were,” Nestad interjected.  “It wouldn’t be the first time that would have happened in the last few months.”

            Twisting slightly and looking intently up at the healer with his stern grey eyes, Faelon spoke to him in a low, concerned voice.  “What happened in Taurnand, Nestad?  Why are you here?”  He had met Nestad a couple of times over the years, though he did not know the healer well.

            “I am here to accompany my… captain to Bree.”  Nestad gave a weary sigh.  “As for Taurnand, that is a long story, it is enough to say that it has been abandoned for now and that I live in Dolomar with Emeldir.”

            Sharp indrawn breaths and low cries were made by the five other Rangers while Faelon shifted his gaze back to Estel.  “Then your journey did not go as planned, my lord?” 

Estel shook his head and gave him a grim smile.  “No, it did not, and I am going to ask you to call me captain.”

            “Why?  Is there a…”

            “C-captain?  A-are the orcs gone?”

            “That is why,” Estel answered Faelon who had reached instinctively for his sword at the sound of Will’s voice.

            “Who is that?”

            “He is one of the bandits that are in the back room with our horses.  We are taking them to Bree to be judged for slaughtering two families.”

            Faelon’s jaw snapped shut and a fierce righteous anger glowed in his eyes as his eyes darted towards the back room. 

            Nestad interrupted their conversation by placing his hand on Estel’s shoulder.  “Captain, we need to get that arrow out now, it’s been long enough.”

            “When did it happen?”

            “Four or five hours ago,” Nestad answered Faelon’s question.

            “You also need to set Halbarad’s hand and stitch up Gilost,” Estel reminded him.

            “After I take care of you, my Captain,” Nestad said with a small smile.  “Faelon, it would be very helpful to have a fire… perhaps in that corner over there.”  He pointed to the most protected part of the building and Faelon nodded before ordering a couple of his men to gather wood for a small fire.  He sent the other three back out to retrieve their horses which they had left a short distance away.

            As the water was heating, Nestad got his pack of healing supplies from his horse, speaking briefly with Will and the others as he did so.  While the bandits were relieved, it only delayed the inevitable for them and so it was a mixed relief at best.

            Nestad spread his bedroll on the ground and made Estel lay down on his stomach which he did with a grimace.  As Nestad cut off the bottom part of his legging, Estel thought of the two other times he had been injured enough to require this kind of attention… once from Elladan and once from his Adar.  He had been eighteen and on a patrol with Elladan, Elrohir, and a few other elves when they had run into a small troop of orcs and he had taken an arrow high up in his shoulder.  His shoulder was painful and sore for weeks afterwards, but what had made it so difficult was the poison on the arrow tip.  He was violently ill for a couple of days and Elladan had been hard pressed to heal him. 

            The one time he had required Elrond’s assistance for a real injury and not sickness or a small training injury had happened the first time he had ever gone on a patrol of any kind.  He was barely sixteen and the patrol was only a basic scouting trip around the closest parts of Imladris, but Estel had taken the mission very seriously.  Somehow, however, he had managed to trip while he had his sword drawn and had cut a deep slice across his right leg – just below his knee.  As they had been close enough to the house, Glorfindel had simply looked at him with a deep, resigned sigh, dragged him onto his horse and hauled him home where his Adar had cleaned and stitched the wound without comment.  Although, Estel was sure that Glorfindel had told him what had happened based on the slight twinkle of amusement he saw in Elrond’s eyes.

            Those thoughts were running through Estel’s mind when Nestad nudged him and handed him a small cup.  “Drink this for the pain.”  Estel downed it, wrinkling his nose in distaste.  Nestad patted his shoulder and started to move back down to the leg to begin moving the arrow when a thought struck him.  “Do you have any athelas with you?”

            “Yes, in my pack. I will prepare some, though I have never done it for myself before.  But I see no reason why it should not work for me as well as for Halbarad and Gilost,” he glanced over at the wall where the two of them were leaning back against it half asleep.  Nestad sent one of Faelon’s Rangers to fetch Estel’s pack and he waited to remove the arrow until the athelas had been prepared.

            Estel looked up at Faelon who was sitting near him.  “How has the winter patrol been?  Have you seen many orcs or wolves?”

            “Quite a few, my l… Captain,” he corrected himself with a grimace at Estel’s admonishing look.  “When it was so cold in January, there were a couple of large packs of wolves that came down from the north.  But my patrol and one of the patrols from Forntaur were able to dispatch them.  This was the largest troop of orcs we’ve seen.  Though, there were smaller groups threatening Bree from time to time and we handled those readily enough.”

            “Well done,” Estel said with a small smile as he yawned tiredly.  “Oh, Arthiell was well when I saw her a few days ago.”  Faelon’s eyes lit up briefly at the thought of his wife.  “And, Braniell and Balrant were also in good spirits.”

            “Balrant is always in good spirits,” Nestad pointed out as he handed his Chieftain a couple of athelas leaves and set a bowl of steaming water beside him.

            Estel nodded as he crushed the leaves, blew on them and dropped them into the steaming water.  He put his head over the steam and inhaled deeply for several long minutes.  The scent released reminded him of Imladris – flowers from the numerous gardens and the fresh, crisp scent of the towering evergreen trees that surrounded the hidden valley.  Nestad finally took the bowl and moved back down to his calf and he called to a couple of the Rangers to come and hold Estel’s legs still while Faelon spoke to the Chieftain to keep his mind off of the pain, though the herbal would help dull it somewhat. 

            Torches had been lit to provide enough light for Nestad and he looked carefully at the arrow one last time.  As he had hoped, the arrow had not struck bone, but it was cruelly barbed and the best way to remove it was to push it all the way through Estel’s leg.  With a deep frown and a glance at the men holding him down, Nestad grasped the arrow shaft firmly and began pushing on it steadily.  He had done this many, many times in his long life, but it was never easy and he ignored the sounds of protest and pain that his patient was making. 

            Estel fought the urge to strike out at the pain that Nestad was causing him, knowing that it had to be done.  He glanced at Faelon as the man suddenly took ahold of his hands, gripping them tightly and began speaking to him in a low soothing voice.  Estel knew that he was telling him about the patrol and things of that nature, but he was focusing more on the tone of Faelon’s voice.  Finally the pain was too much and he passed out.  Seeing this, Nestad pushed a little harder on the arrow and it finally broke through the skin on the front of Estel’s leg and he heaved a sigh of relief.  The worst part was over and he gently pushed it the rest of the way through his leg.

            Wiping off his brow with his shoulder, Nestad set about stopping the flow of blood from both sides of Estel’s leg.  He then carefully cleansed the wounds with the athelas infused water, checked carefully to make sure that no bits of metal had lodged inside the wound, and then stitched both openings closed before bandaging the leg tightly.  Estel awoke just as he was finishing the bandaging and he turned his head back over his shoulder, his eyes glittering in the light from the fire.

            “Are you still not finished?” he whispered.

            “No, my Captain,” Nestad replied with a brief grin having heard the resigned amusement in the question.  “But almost, I’m just bandaging it now.”

            “Good.”  Estel laid his head back down on his folded arms with a sigh and looked up at Faelon from the corner of his eye.  “Thank you,” he whispered and the man nodded.  “Were you planning on going home now or heading back to your patrol area?”

            “I had planned to go back to patrol until the end of April.  That’s when we usually head home.  Would you like me to do something different?”

            “I think we will need your help for a few days at least,” Estel yawned again.  “We lost some of our horses.”  He frowned, “One of the bandits was tied to one of those horses.  We must try and find him.”

            Nestad patted his uninjured right leg, “I’m finished, you should rest now.”

            Estel nodded, but continued his conversation with Faelon.  “If you ride with us for a few days, that will give Halbarad, Gilost, and I time to recover.  Some of these bandits are quite difficult to handle.”

            Nestad snorted from where he was beginning to work on cleaning and stitching Gilost’s arm.  “We may need them for more than a few days, my Captain.  I do not trust any of those bandits and with everyone but me injured I think we may need them.”

            Faelon raised an eyebrow at the tone that Nestad was using and he glanced at Estel to see how he was reacting, but the Chieftain only gave him a small, wry smile as he spoke softly.  “He often gives me counsel.”  He raised his voice as he replied to Nestad.  “They will ride with us for a few days and if we need them longer, then they can continue, Nestad.  I do not want to keep them from their patrol any longer than necessary,” he said firmly and Nestad gave him a small nod.  “Will you help me up?” Estel suddenly asked Faelon.

            Startled, Faelon glanced first over at Nestad, who had not heard the question, and then back down at his Chieftain.  “Should you not lie here and sleep?” he asked cautiously.  He still did not know this man very well and was not sure how he would react to him questioning his orders.

            “I want to check on Halbarad.  He is in a lot of pain.”  Estel glanced over at his cousin who he could see was slumped over sound asleep, his left hand still cradled protectively.  He started to push himself up with his hands and Faelon reluctantly began to help him.

            “Stop!” Nestad hissed, suddenly at their side, glaring from Estel to Faelon and back to Estel.  “You may not get up.  You need your rest.”

            Estel eased himself back down but returned Nestad’s glare with a dark look.  “I want to check Halbarad’s hand.  I will rest when I have done that.”

            “Halbarad is in my hands and he’ll be all right, you need to rest, my Captain,” he implored softly.  “You may trust me with your cousin’s injury.  You’ve seen my work and need not fear for him.”

            Estel looked beyond Nestad to Halbarad and back.  “Forgive me, Nestad.  Of course, I trust you.”  He paused and gave the healer a long look.  “I let you work on me.”

            “You had no choice!”

            Ignoring the interruption, Estel continued as if Nestad had not spoken.  “I would ask that you wake me if you need me.  You know I am a better healer,” he said without a trace of arrogance in his voice, “and, if his hand is broken, you know it can be difficult to set properly.”

            Nestad patted Estel’s back, “I will call you if I have need, my Captain.  Now go to sleep.” 

            With a final glance at his cousin, Estel closed his eyes and almost immediately drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin. Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.

Author’s Note: The next few chapters may be delayed somewhat due to wrapping up the end of my school year and vacations, etc.

There is a character list at the end of this chapter… it’s pretty long, but I decided to include everyone since these new Ranger’s are here.

Chapter 18

            Estel awoke, instantly becoming alert in the grey light that signaled the coming of the sun.  He rolled over and sat up gingerly, carefully keeping his left leg from scraping along the ground.  Flipping the blanket off of himself he frowned as he took in his bandaged calf.  It ached and was painfully sore, but the intense stabbing pain of the previous night was gone.  Estel was suddenly aware of his need to wash and to change his clothing.  He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of the black orc blood that spattered his hair, leggings, shirt, and tunic.  Nestad or someone had evidently washed off his face and hands at some point because they were almost clean, though he could still feel the sticky residue and he tried to wipe it off.

            Halbarad was sleeping next to him and Estel looked closely at his cousin’s bandaged hand.  From the way the hand was bandaged - there was no splint on the hand itself, just on one of his fingers - he assumed that his cousin’s hand was severely sprained and not broken.  He would check Halbarad’s stitches that evening.  Estel trusted Nestad, but wanted to see them himself.  Gilost and Nestad were also deeply asleep on the other side of Halbarad.  Faelon and another Ranger were sleeping on the far side of the fire. 

            A slight movement caught his eye and he turned to see one of Faelon’s Rangers approaching with an armload of wood that he set down next to the fire.  He added a couple of logs before turning to Estel and speaking to him in a low whisper.  “Good morning, Captain.  How do you fare?”  He looked Estel over with obvious concern.

            “Better than I was.  Your name is Daedaen, is it not?”  Estel remembered meeting him when he had arrived in Dolomar but there had been many men and most had left within a day or two to return to their patrols and he had not gotten to know them.  Though, he did know Daedaen’s wife and children somewhat from the past few months he had spent in the village.

            “Yes.  Can I get you anything?  Water?  Something to eat?”

            “No, I am going to change my clothes before I do anything else.  Has anyone found a well or a water source?  The people who used this must have had something nearby.”

            “There’s a spring near the back of the building.”  Daedaen stood and extended his hand down to Estel.  “Let me help you, I imagine you’ll have trouble walking on that for a few days.”

            “You sound like you have experience.”  Estel grimaced as he let the man haul him up.  Daedaen simply nodded as Estel tried putting weight on his leg while still holding on to him.  It was not as painful as he had feared.  The movement or their talking awoke Halbarad and he opened his eyes lazily and looked up at his cousin with concern.

            “Can you walk on it?” he asked yawning.  He started to rub his eyes but the bandages stopped him on the one hand and his other hand was filthy and he scowled at it.

            “Yes.  How is your hand?  Is it broken?”

            “No, this finger is, but my hand is just sprained.  It just feels broken.  But at least Nestad didn’t have to set any bones in it.  I don’t know how many stitches he had to put in, but it wasn’t too bad.”

            “Good,” Estel gave him a relieved smile.  “I am going to get cleaned up,” he indicated his filthy clothes.  “You need to join me, you look worse than I do.”

            Halbarad laughed quietly, “Yes, Captain.  Good morning, Daedaen,” he greeted the man as he crawled from his bedroll.

            “Morning.”  Daedaen looked back at Estel.  “Shall I show you to the spring, Captain?”

            “As soon as I get my pack,” Estel glanced around and saw that someone had set it nearby and he hobbled over to it.  He was relieved that the pain was not overpowering.  He would not like to walk or run a long way, and he knew the pain would be worse at the end of the day, but for now he could tolerate it.  Estel leaned over and picked up his pack, being mindful of his balance and trying not to strain his calf.

            “Are the rest of the men out scouting?” Estel asked Daedaen as the Ranger led them out the door and back around the side of the building skirting around the bodies of the orcs as they walked.

            “Yes.  We killed a couple of orcs not long after midnight but it’s been quiet since then.”

            Estel frowned, wondering if they were going to need to track down the orcs that had escaped.  But Dale was out there somewhere tied to the back of a horse and even though he was a bandit, he would not leave him to such a horrible fate if he could help it.  He doubted that the horses would leave the road, but he knew that orcs had pursued them and they needed to leave here as soon as possible to look for him.  When they reached the small spring, Estel turned to Daedaen.  “Will you please collect the arrows from the orcs?  All of our quivers are empty and I am certain we will need them again before we get to Bree.”

            Daedaen shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  “Captain Faelon told me to watch over you,” he replied apologetically.

            “I do not need a guard,” Estel protested with a frown.  “But, since Faelon told you to do so, you need to follow his orders.”  Since he was about to speak with Halbarad about following orders it did not seem right to tell one of his other men to disregard theirs.  “I do want you to stand out of earshot.  Halbarad and I have things we need to discuss privately.”  Out of the corner of his eye Estel saw Halbarad, who was putting his pack down on the far side of the spring, straighten up and look at him with a worried expression.  Daedaen nodded and moved off, staying in sight but well out of earshot.

            Estel stripped off his tunic and shirt before settling down on a rock and easing first his boots off and then his leggings, shivering in the cold morning air.  “Do you need help?” he asked Halbarad as he saw him struggling with his boots.

            “No.”  Halbarad finished untying his boots before continuing.  “I’ll probably need help tying them up, though.  Nestad said I’m not supposed to use it very much.”

            “I imagine he told you not to use it at all,” Estel replied.  He leaned over and carefully scooped up some of the icy water and began washing the dirt, sweat, and blood off of himself. 

            “Well, yes, but I don’t see how that will be possible.”  Halbarad joined Estel, crouching down on the opposite side of the spring.

            “Ask for help… like I did last night.”  Estel’s eyes became dark with anger as he stared at his cousin.  “I will help you, Halbarad, as will any of the other men.”

            “It’s hardly the same thing!  We’re not in the middle of a battle for our lives and…”

            “It is the same thing,” most of the anger was gone from Estel’s voice, replaced by weariness and disappointment.  “I depended on you and instead I had to have a bandit help me when I needed you.”

            Halbarad looked stricken.  “But… but you were hurt, Aragorn.  I didn’t want you to injure yourself any further.  I couldn’t let you do that,” he added stubbornly.

            “The decision was not yours to make.”

            “If I had been lying there, you’d have done the same thing.”

            “Perhaps,” Estel conceded.  “But I honestly do not believe so.  We were in a battle for our lives and this wound, while painful, is relatively minor and you should know that.”  He began drying himself before pulling on clean clothes.

            “All I could see was that you were in pain and I wanted to protect you.”  Halbarad awkwardly started to dress.

            Estel looked at his cousin for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.  “I know.  But last night there was no need to protect me and all of us were needed just to survive.”  He cleared his throat and shifted uneasily on the rock.  His voice became stern.  “As for you disobeying my order…”

            “Forgive me, Captain, but again I…”

            “Yes, of course, I forgive you, Halbarad.  But it is not something that I can just overlook either.  I need to know that I can depend on you to follow my orders… or the orders of any captain you might be serving.”

            “Do you really think I wouldn’t?” Halbarad asked quietly, staring intently at Estel.

            Estel sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair as he replied, “No, not really.  But I think if it concerns me, you might choose to disregard my orders when it has to do with my safety and I do not want you to do that.”

            Halbarad chewed on his lip and stared off into the woods for several minutes before his gaze shifted back to his Chieftain.  “Aragorn, I told you once that you are my cousin before anything else, but that you are also my Chieftain and my Lord.  For both of those reasons I would lay down my life for yours… and do so gladly.  Every Ranger would willingly do the same,” he added to stop the protest he saw forming on his cousin’s lips.  “So I will not promise to never again disregard your orders, but I will promise to only disregard an order if I think that you are risking your life.  Yesterday was not one of those days and I’ve already apologized for that.”

            “You cannot do that,” Estel protested.  “I will not have you trade your life for mine!”

            “Aragorn…it is not something I want to do either.”  Halbarad gave him a small smile.  “And, perhaps, if it comes to it, I won’t have the courage to do so.  But our people need you.  Arnor needs you.  Gondor needs you.  And until you have an heir, you must stay alive.  As you said before we left home, a lot of trouble was taken to keep you hidden away in a place of safety and I’m just doing my part to keep you protected.”  Halbarad watched his cousin lace up his boots.  He knew that he needed time to think and so Halbarad just sat quietly waiting.

            “It is a heavy burden,” Estel finally said as he stared down at his ring, absently tracing the serpents and flowers with his finger.  “I know that my duty calls for me to leave my home and family to lead our people,” he looked up then with eyes full of both sorrow and resolve.  “But the thought of others risking their life for mine…” his voice trailed off and he shook his head.  “Halbarad, I will promise you that I will never risk my life without cause… you can trust that if I give you an order it is something that I need and expect you to do.”  Estel studied Halbarad, his brow furrowed thoughtfully as Nestad’s words came back to him.  “You may always ask me questions.  Though, perhaps, the middle of a battle is not the best time.”  He smiled briefly and Halbarad acknowledged the comment with a grin of his own.

            “I do want and expect and need you to think for yourself, Halbarad.  I do not want you to follow me without question; especially if it is something that you truly think is wrong.  More than anyone else, I need to know that you will be honest with me and will tell me the things that I need to hear, not just what I want to hear.  I believe a few of the older men will always do that.  Your adar and Nestad certainly do so, but neither of them will be around over the course of my life as you will be.”

            “I certainly hope to be,” Halbarad responded.  “Of course I’ll be honest with you, I always have been.  And, I’ll try and give you counsel, but I’m young and don’t have the experience yet that you need.”  He grinned before quickly turning serious once again.  “Do you really think that none of the other young men can be counted on to give you honest counsel?  Gilost, perhaps?  Eradan as he grows older?  You don’t know most of the men yet – either the younger ones or those that are in their middle ages.  Faelon is a good man as is Eradan’s father, Thalion… you seemed to get on well with him.  I think you just need to give yourself time to get to know these men and you will find that some of them will be very good counselors for you.”

            Estel nodded.  “I am sure there will be others.  But, I will always trust you and your counsel more because of who you are.  Just as I am also sure that you will have more responsibility placed on your shoulders for that same reason.”  He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of voices and saw that Nestad, Gilost, and Faelon were approaching.  Looking back at Halbarad, Estel realized his cousin was sitting with his clothing on but with none of the laces tied and his eyes twinkled with amusement.  “Do you want my help?”

            Glancing down at himself, Halbarad couldn’t help grinning.  “I think I’m going to have to.  It wouldn’t be wise to appear in front of Galt and the others dressed like this.” 

            Smiling, Estel hobbled around the spring and began tying up the various laces on Halbarad’s clothing.  He paused, frowning, when he looked down at his cousin’s boots.  “I think that one of the other men should do up your boots.  I am not sure if I can or even should bend down.”

            “No, you should not, Captain,” Nestad said with a scowl as he reached them.  He looked both of his patients up and down with an experienced eye.  “How do you fare?”

            “I’m clean at least,” Halbarad replied with a cheeky grin.  “Thank you, Faelon,” he said to the Ranger as the man knelt down and began tying his boots.  Faelon grunted in response.

            “Did you keep your hand dry?”

            Halbarad gave an exasperated sigh.  “Of course I did.  It wasn’t easy, but I did.”

            “What happened to your hands, Nestad?” Estel asked sharply, seeing bandages wrapped loosely around the palms of the healer’s hands.

            “Rope burns.  Evidently when Dale’s horse jerked away from me he took some of my skin with him.  I truly did not realize they were burned until I was going to bed.”

            “Let me see,” Estel motioned for Nestad to step closer and with a grimace he did so.  Estel unwrapped the bandages and carefully checked the healer’s hands and the salve he had rubbed into them and finally nodded his agreement.  “They do not appear to be serious but I will check them again tonight.”  He turned his gaze to Gilost, whose arm was tightly bandaged.  “How do you fare?”

            “I’m sore, of course, but I’m ready to ride on, Captain.  We need to find Dale.  I would not see anyone suffer like he will if we cannot find him.”

            “We need those horses, too.  Will and Kenrick will have to ride together on the packhorse which means we will have to carry all of the other things between us and that will slow us down.  But, it cannot be helped.  Halbarad, Daedaen, and I will go and start getting things ready while you get cleaned up.”

            “I’ll go with you,” offered Faelon.  “I’m clean enough and I don’t think that you and Halbarad will be able to do much with your injuries.”

            As they returned to the building, Estel gave Faelon and Daedaen a brief explanation of the bandits.  Neither said much, though Estel saw grief and anger in their eyes.  The four men went to the back room where the horses and bandits were tied to begin readying the horses.

            “It’s about time ya got here,” Galt growled.  “We’re hungry.”

            Estel ignored him.  “We do not have a saddle for the packhorse so it will be difficult to tie them to the horse.  I can ride bareback, but I believe I will need stirrups to support my leg.”

            “We can tie them to the pack saddle, Captain.  That’ll work well enough, though it won’t be comfortable.  We won’t be going very quickly today anyway.  What about the orcs?  Do we just let them go?”

            “After we find Dale and the horses we will decide, Faelon.  We may find them on our way since some followed him.  Do you have any sense of how many escaped last night?”

            “Not many got past us… less than ten with the ones we killed late last night.”

            “We counted fifty-seven bodies around here and on the slope,” Daedaen said.

            Frowning, Estel thought back to what Gilost had told him the night before.  “That means there could be at least thirteen missing,” he said with a sigh.  “Gilost thought there were about seventy of them, but of course that was as he was watching us trying to escape from them and it was a little…tense at the time.”  Light laughter followed that comment as they began to saddle the horses.  Estel sent Halbarad off to get food since he could not help prepare the horses. 

            So that he did not put any extra strain on his leg, Estel worked on bridling the horses while Faelon and Daedaen saddled them.  They talked quietly as they worked, Faelon describing the area they would be riding through and any places he thought that the orcs might possibly den up for the day.

            “Captain, sir?  Are ya going to find Dale or leave him to die?”

            Estel paused and turned to study Kenrick whose face was almost expressionless and he wondered once again about this young man who seldom spoke.  “As soon as we ready the horses we are going to search for him, Kenrick.  Despite what you may think, I am not a cruel man and would never leave him or anyone,” his gaze shifted to Galt, “to such a horrible fate.  My only concern is that some of the orcs chased after him and the horses last night and we may be too late.”  Will drew in a sharp breath and looked horrified at the news, but Kenrick simply nodded.  Galt and Beck shrugged and Galt looked over at Kenrick and asked with a sneer,

            “Bet ya’d be glad to see yer uncle gone, wouldn’t ya, boy?”

            Kenrick ignored him and stared down at the ground.  Estel exchanged a glance with Halbarad who had returned with the food and had heard the last part of the conversation.  Estel wondered what Galt meant by the comment, but he had no time to discuss it further and turned back to the horse he was bridling. Gilost, Nestad, and a couple of the other Rangers joined them and they quickly finished saddling and loading the horses.  The tent and a few personal items were stowed in the most protected part of the building to lighten the load on the horses as much as possible.  If they found Dale and the other horses nearby they might return for the items, if not, they would pick them up on the way home.  Finally, Estel drew his sword and turned to the bandits.  He noticed that Gilost quickly pulled his sword as well.

            “Captain Faelon and his men are here now and I expect you to follow their commands without question,” he said sternly.  “Do you understand?”  There were nods and the usual muttering from Galt and Beck.  Estel turned to Faelon, “Get them mounted.  Watch their feet... they like to trip people.”

            Faelon’s jaw was set and his eyes were hard as he responded.  “I will, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems.”  He and Daedaen grabbed Beck and held him still while another Ranger untied his bonds.  Beck struggled briefly, but a hard shake and fierce glare from Faelon stopped him and he was quickly tied to his horse.  Glancing at the other bandits, Faelon stepped over to Will who shrank back away from him in fear.  Faelon paused briefly, glancing at Estel who only shrugged, and so he continued without speaking to the man.  The only sound Will or Kenrick made was when Kenrick asked to be moved forward on the horse he was sharing with Will so that he could be a little more comfortable.

            Turning last to Galt, Faelon stared at him for a long moment, wanting to ask him questions about other raids he may have lead in the past.  He and his men had come upon the wreckage of wagons or the bodies of people in the course of their travels along the Great East Road and he wondered if Galt was responsible for those.  But, it was not something Faelon could ask him about now and so he contented himself with making the man uncomfortable under his scrutiny.  As soon as Galt was untied, Faelon prodded him with his foot.  “Get up,” he growled, grabbing him under the arm at the same time Daedaen did on the opposite side.

            Galt struggled mightily and growled right back at Faelon, “Get yer hands off’ve me, ya filthy, stinking Ranger!”

            Faelon stopped immediately and grabbed Galt by the front of his tunic, almost lifting the smaller man off of the ground.  “The captain ordered you to follow our commands without question.  Now, I suggest you come along without opening that foul mouth of yours again or you’ll see what happens when you don’t listen.”  His blue-flecked grey eyes were dark with anger as he stared down at Galt.

            But Galt had been a bandit for a long time and was not easily cowed.  His lips curled up into a sneer as he started to respond.  But before he spoke his eyes happened to fall on Gilost and the bandit dropped his head under the intensity of Gilost’s gaze and the remembrance of the blow he had received from the Ranger.  As Faelon released him, Galt obediently moved to his horse, though he muttered curses under his breath as they tied him to his horse.

            They led the horses out of the building where the Rangers began to mount up.  Estel glanced at his horse and down at his leg, frowning.  Even if he mounted on the off-side of the horse, it would put a lot of pressure on his calf and he looked around for help and found Faelon standing behind him.  “I need a hand.”  Faelon nodded and helped Estel into the saddle without putting too much strain on his leg.  Glancing around to see that Halbarad, Gilost, and Nestad were safely in their saddles and that the other Rangers were also mounted, Estel led the company through the trees and to the steep slope overlooking the road.  They slowly and carefully picked their way down the incline joining the two Rangers that had been scouting ahead.  They had not seen any signs of orcs beyond the tracks they had followed for a short distance, nor had they seen Dale or the horses.  Urging their horses forward they trotted west along the road, keeping a wary eye out for movement along the sides of the road.  The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly which should keep the orcs denned up for the day, but they were cautious nonetheless.

            Estel sent a couple of Rangers a short distance ahead of the main company while he rode alongside Faelon occasionally speaking quietly about the area they were passing through.  Their men rode behind them, the bandits again tied in a line, this time to Nestad’s horse as he was the least injured of Estel’s men.  It left the five other men, including Gilost and Halbarad, able to freely move around as needed.  The tracks of the fleeing horses and the pursuing orcs were easy to spot as few traveled this road.  Though, Estel did see the faint signs of wagon wheels, evidence of the two families that had passed this way less than two weeks ago.

            They had been traveling for an hour or so when Estel saw the Rangers ahead of them suddenly rein to a halt, looking to the left of the road.  He urged his horse into a canter and the rest of his men followed suit.  As he neared Estel could see the bushes had been disturbed and he slid to the ground with a grimace before hobbling over to join Daedaen and the other man.  Both horse and orc tracks littered the ground and Estel read the signs quickly and easily.  There were only the tracks of a single horse and Estel assumed the packhorse had fallen behind Dale and become prey for the orcs.  Even though he was tied to his horse, Dale would at least be able to encourage his horse to keep moving and that, along with their fear of the orcs, would help those horses keep running.

            Faelon stepped up alongside of him.  “I’ll go down and look, Captain,” he offered, indicating the somewhat steep downward slope covered with thick brush that now had broken limbs and a wide open swath and showed signs of a fierce struggle.

            “Take Daedaen and,” Estel paused trying to remember the other man’s name.

            “It’s Remlas, my lord,” Faelon murmured under his breath and Estel nodded his thanks.

            “Daedaen, Remlas, go with Captain Faelon.”  As they slipped away, Estel turned back to the rest of his men, noting the three other Rangers of Faelon’s patrol had spread out protectively around the prisoners and his own men and he gave an inward nod of approval.  “Well, Gilost, Halbarad, how do you fare now?” his gaze also moved to Nestad to include him in the question.

            “I’m well, Captain,” replied Gilost with a brief smile.  “Nestad appears to be a competent healer.”

            Nestad gave a small snort.  “I’ve been a healer much longer than you’ve been alive, young Gilost.”  Nestad turned his penetrating gaze on Estel.  “How do you fare, Captain?”

            “Well enough…”

            “Captain?  D-did you find Dale?” Will interrupted him.

            Estel moved back a bit from Nestad’s horse to look at the young man.  “I do not believe so, Will.  I think it is the packhorse, but Captain Faelon is looking.”

            “D-do you think he could have gotten s-so far?” his blue eyes were wide with concern.

            “Yes, I do.  Especially if the orcs stopped to eat as I suspect they did.  The tracks indicate they lingered here for a time and then went on.”  He shrugged once.  “It may have given Dale enough of a lead to escape them.”  As Estel turned away from Will to continue his conversation with Nestad, something on the other side of the road caught his eye and he started hobbling in that direction.  “Gilost,” he called back over his shoulder, “come with me.”  The Ranger was quickly at his side, his eyes sweeping over the ground and bushes and suddenly seeing what his Chieftain had seen.

            “How many do you think?”

            Estel’s bit his lip in pain as he crouched down by the orc tracks that led into the woods.  He glanced at the bushes that had been barely broken, unlike the other side of the road where the horse had either jumped or fallen down the incline causing a huge, gaping hole in the bushes.  “I count five,” he replied, frowning.  “These tracks are more recent,” he added.

            Nodding, Gilost got to his feet and began following the tracks up the bank and into the bushes.  Estel followed a little more slowly.  “Perhaps these are the ones that escaped when Faelon’s men attacked,” Gilost suggested.  They stopped, sighing in frustration as the trail suddenly turned back east.

            “They are behind us or they were headed that way some… six or seven hours ago,” Estel ran his hand through his hair as he thought.  “Well, it cannot be helped right now.  We still need to find Dale and it just means there are less orcs pursuing him.”  He led the way back to the horses where he quickly told the others what they had discovered.

            Faelon handed him some small items taken from the packhorse.  “There are a lot of these types of things scattered around the remains of the horse, but if that horse was carrying anything larger then the orcs took it.”

            “Are any of your men good at tracking?”

            “Yes, Remlas is quite good and I use him when I do not go out myself.”

            Estel looked back east with a frown furrowing his brow and then his gaze flicked back to Faelon and Nestad.  “Do you think we should send three men back to take care of these orcs while the rest of us go on?  I do not like the thought of orcs behind us, nor do I like the idea that they might escape and threaten our people as we continue westward.”

            “We may catch up with these orcs in a matter of hours and then come back and track these down,” Nestad pointed out.

            “We might, but it could take us all day to find the ones we’re after,” said Faelon, shaking his head.  “As much as I hate to split up, Captain, I think it best to do so.  We can always come back and join my men if we find Dale quickly.”

            Estel studied the two men for a moment and smiled inwardly at the totally opposite counsel they had given which had left the decision squarely back on his shoulders.  It was ultimately his decision anyway, but it was, of course, easier when everyone agreed with whatever decision he made.  He saw the understanding look in Nestad’s eyes as he made his decision.  “Faelon, pick two of your men and we will send them with Remlas after the orcs.”  Faelon turned and hurried off to get them while Nestad and Estel waited.

            “Did you hurt your leg further, Captain?” Nestad asked.  “You were limping more heavily when you returned and I thought perhaps you hurt it when you crouched down to check the tracks.”

            “I am well.  I will tell you if I tear my stitches or need help with my injury, Nestad.  My adar was quite insistent that I learn not to risk further injury to myself because of pride.”

            “More men should learn that,” murmured Nestad with a brief grin as Faelon returned with the three Rangers.

            Estel gave Remlas detailed instructions on what he wanted them to do and where they would meet again after both groups had completed their tasks.  He was somewhat uneasy sending the three men off alone, but there were only five orcs and he felt that the three men would be capable of dealing with them.  Estel had considered sending Faelon, but as several of them were injured and they were facing an unknown number of orcs, he felt he would need the older man.  If something should happen to him, Faelon would need to take charge as he was used to leading patrols, unlike Nestad.

            Without the additional Rangers, Estel and Gilost scouted ahead of the main group of riders.  It was clear at first that the stop the orcs had taken had gained Dale at least an hour lead, but as the miles slipped past they could see that Dale’s horses were slowing and the orcs were gaining on him.  It would all depend on whether or not Dale had been able to keep his horses moving when he did not have any kind of direct control over them.  If he had been able to do that long enough for the sun to rise, then he would have survived and they should be able to find him.  If not…

            It was just past noon when Estel and Gilost reined to a halt, staring down at the tracks on the road before exchanging grim smiles.  The orc tracks stopped abruptly, but the hoofprints continued on.  The orcs’ trail led to the left of the road and disappeared into the trees and bushes.  The two men carefully slid down from their horses and waited for the others to join them.  Estel spoke quietly with Faelon and Nestad while the rest of the Rangers tied the bandits and horses just out of sight behind the trees on the right side of the road.  Faelon did not know of any caves in this area as it was not an area that he had ever thoroughly explored.  Mostly likely the orcs were denned up in some dark hollow or rocky overhang sheltered by trees.  The land had leveled somewhat from the area that they had been in previously, more gently rolling hills than the steep inclines.  It would aid them in their search. 

            Estel had to decide who to send after the orcs and which two men to leave behind to guard the bandits.  Faelon and his men would go as all of them were uninjured, which left only the four of them with various injuries to choose from.  He knew there were at least ten orcs and he wanted to send as many men as he could. “Nestad, you are the least injured so I want you to come with us.”  Estel paused briefly as he realized he had automatically included himself in the patrol going after the orcs.  “Halbarad will stay as he cannot use a bow right now,” he added.

            “Then Gilost will stay with him, Captain?” Nestad asked cautiously.  This was one time that Nestad hesitated to speak his mind until his Chieftain had decided one way or the other.  He knew that he could not always give his counsel without it being sought, especially in a situation like this.  But Nestad was concerned about the injury Aragorn had suffered and if he could even keep up with them if they had to travel very far.

            Those same thoughts were running through Estel’s mind.  If the orcs were close to the road then he knew that he would not have any problems with his leg and would easily be able to use bow and sword.  But if they had to go very far or had to chase the foul creatures, he would be a liability they could ill afford.  Nestad or one of the other Rangers would insist on staying with him and he did not want to risk that happening and risk losing the orcs altogether.  Running his hand through his hair and grimacing in frustration he slowly shook his head as he replied.

            “No, I will stay.  Gilost can use a sword and, perhaps, a bow if it is truly needed.  Faelon, you are in charge.  Be as quick as you can and still be safe.  We still have to find Dale.”

            “Yes, Captain.”  Faelon gave him a respectful nod and hurried off to speak to his men.  Nestad slowly followed, pausing only to give his Chieftain a brief pat on the back.

            Estel hobbled off to where the bandits had been tied to the trees and was quickly joined by an upset Halbarad who barely glanced at him before settling down on a nearby log, his eyes fixed on the prisoners.  “Are you hungry?” Estel asked him after the other Rangers had disappeared into the woods on the opposite side of the road.  The only reply he received was a shrug and Estel sighed as he went to the packs to get out some of the dried meat and fruit they carried.  He took it first to the bandits, saving Galt for last as he had to remove the gag he was wearing once again.  The man had been warned not to talk so loudly as they rode and when he had refused to follow their orders they had gagged him.

            Before Estel pulled it from his mouth, he studied Galt for a long moment and the man was forced to look away under his scrutiny.  “I am starting to think that you like wearing this, Galt, yet I cannot imagine that it is comfortable.  We are riding in far too dangerous of an area for you to be talking so loudly and I will not put up with it anymore.  If there is one more problem with you and the things that you say or the way that you say them, you will be wearing this at all times until we arrive in Bree, except when you eat.  Do you understand?”  He removed the gag so Galt could answer.

            “I understand that ya don’t want me to talk cause yer afraid of me,” he spat out.  He hesitated as he watched Estel’s eyes grow dark with anger and he quickly backtracked.  “But I don’t wanna wear that cloth all the time so I’ll… obey.”  There was a mocking tone to his voice that none of them missed, but Estel was satisfied that for now the man would be quiet and he nodded and handed him his food.

            Estel grabbed more of the meat and fruit, taking it over and silently handing it to Halbarad.  He was returning to his own spot when Halbarad spoke up.  “I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you thought.”

            “I thought you might be, though I was hoping you did not take it personally,” Estel gave Halbarad a brief grin.

            “I am at angry at the orc who did this to me,” he scowled and gestured at his bandaged hand.

            Nodding, Estel began eating deciding not to mention that even if Halbarad had not been injured he most likely would have been left behind to guard the bandits as he was the youngest Ranger.  Although, he did remember the promise he had made to Halbarad to not always leave him behind on things like this.  To give him the chance to gain the experience that he needed.  Though he had gotten quite a bit of experience lately, Estel thought with amusement.

            Their food finished, they sat quietly keeping a close eye on the prisoners while their ears were straining to hear any sounds that might indicate that the Rangers had come across the orcs.  Will started to speak one time, but a stern look from Estel stopped him immediately.  The tension mounted as time stretched on.  Estel finally got to his feet and began slowly hobbling around the area, always keeping within sight of both Halbarad and the bandits as he moved.  More than two hours had passed when a faint sound reached them and it was so indistinct as to tell them nothing and Estel and Halbarad exchanged looks of pure frustration and concern.  The noise last for fifteen minutes or so, growing slightly louder at one point before fading away altogether.  While they had been alert before, both of them drew their swords and moved to opposite ends of the small clearing on the off chance any of the orcs escaped from the Rangers, though the chance of that seemed remote. 

            “Captain?” Will whispered so low that Estel would not have heard him if he had not been looking in that direction and seen the young man’s lips move.

            “What?”

            “D-did the orcs have Dale with them?”

            Estel looked at him in surprise before he realized that Will could not read the tracks and the bandits had not been told anything.  His gaze slid to Kenrick who was watching him, his face carefully expressionless and again Estel wondered about his relationship with Dale.  “The horse tracks continued on past here, so I believe Dale is somewhere ahead of us still.  We will ride on as soon as my men return.”  Will looked relieved while none of the other men said anything.

            As his Rangers returned less than an hour later, Estel looked them over carefully as Faelon came to speak with him.  All of them appeared to be in good shape, none were limping or bleeding that he could see and Gilost and Nestad did not seem any worse than they had been when they left. 

            “We got them… all twelve of them, Captain,” Faelon reported.  “They were in a deep hollow sheltered by trees and a few large boulders.  It was fairly dark and suited their purposes well for sleeping, but not for protection.  We were able to shoot them from a distance and when a few broke out we did have to go to our swords, but they were easily taken.”

            “No injuries, either,” added Nestad with a brief smile.

            “Good.  Get something to eat and we will leave,” Estel glanced at the sun.  There were only a couple of hours of daylight left and he did not want to leave Dale out another night if he could help it.  There were other dangers in the wilds besides orcs.

            They were all mounted and on their way within ten minutes.  Estel pushed them hard.  It soon became apparent that Dale and the horses were having problems.  The tracks showed the horses slowing from a trot to a walk and then back to a canter all within the space of a couple of hundred yards.  The horses were also beginning to weave back and forth across the road a bit.  Estel was amazed that they had gotten this far.  He knew that the arrow that had hit Will’s horse had not been enough to truly hinder the horse, that it had been more startled than hurt.  That Dale had been able to keep the animals moving this long surprised him. 

           An hour before sunset they spotted the group of horses standing in the middle of the road, their heads down, utterly exhausted.  Estel motioned Nestad to keep the bandits back and the Rangers approached cautiously, though the chances of the horses bolting seemed remote.  Dale was slumped forward over the pommel of his saddle and did not stir as they rode up beside him.  Gilost grabbed the reins of the horse while Estel and Faelon prepared to cut Dale loose.

            “Dale?” Estel called to the man softly, as they cut the bonds holding his feet tied together.  He stirred and moaned as his legs moved after more than thirty hours of being tightly bound in place.  Dale cried out in pain as they carefully cut the rope tying his wrists and hands to the saddle.  Estel’s heart softened with compassion at the pain he read in Dale’s eyes as the man opened his eyes briefly.  Daedaen and Faelon gently pulled him from the saddle and carried him to where Nestad had led the other men and was directing the starting of a fire and the setting up of a camp for the night.  He turned those responsibilities over to Halbarad as Estel and the others arrived with Dale.

            Directing Faelon to lay him down near the fire, Estel and Nestad began checking Dale for any injuries other than the ones caused by the ropes but none were readily apparent.

            “Does he have any other clothes?” Nestad asked, looking at the man’s soiled and filthy clothing.  “We need to get him out of these.”

            “There should be some in his pack.  Gilost, see if there are any spare clothes in Dale’s pack,” Estel called over to the Ranger who was helping with the horses.  “And, bring me my pack of healing supplies.”  He turned back to find Nestad beginning to cut off Dale’s shirt and tunic and he pulled his belt knife and started on his leggings.  “Should I pull off his boots?” he asked with concern, not wanting to hurt the man further.  Even though they were being as gentle as they could possibly be, Dale was moaning at the pain they were causing from simply cutting off his clothing and touching his skin anywhere close to where his wrists had been bound.  Blood was oozing from gashes all around his wrists where the rope had cut deeply into his skin, evidence of his fierce struggle to free himself.  Deep bruises also covered his forearms where he had hit them against the pommel of the saddle. 

            Nestad looked down at Dale’s feet with a frown.  “Not yet.  I think those can wait until last.  It will give the muscles some time to relax on their own.  We need water.”  He glanced over and saw that Faelon had started a pot boiling and asked him to heat even more as they would need some for cleaning Dale as well as some to tend to his wounds.

            “Is-is he going to be all right, Captain?”  

            “Yes, Will, he will be.  We just need to take care of his wounds and give him time to rest and recover.”  Estel glanced over his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile and then looked back at Dale with a slight frown, wishing all of the bandits could be more like Galt, it would make it much easier.

            “He’s a likeable young man,” Nestad murmured and Estel nodded with a grimace.

            “Why do ya bother doing that?” Kenrick asked.  “You’re going to kill him in a couple of weeks anyway.”  His voice was not raised nor did he sound particularly angry, just curious and Estel wondered at the lack of emotion toward this man who was evidently his uncle.

            “Ya might as well just kill him now.  It’d save ya a lot of trouble,” Galt laughed callously, joined immediately by Beck.

            Ignoring them for the moment as they gently moved Dale onto a bedroll, Estel thought about how best to respond to men who he knew would never understand him, or the Dúnedain, or indeed any honorable man.  As he and Nestad began cleaning Dale, speaking softly to him to keep him calm and as still as possible, Estel finally answered Kenrick.

            “As I told you this morning, Kenrick, I am not a cruel man.  Nor are any of my men.”  Estel ignored Galt and Beck’s low, mocking laughter.  “It would not be right to let Dale suffer when I can relieve it.  I would do the same for any of you.  But it does not change the fact that he has committed brutal murders of men, women, and children.  However, I am not the judge and I will not be the one to carry out whatever punishment is ordered for him or for any of you.”  Estel looked up then and his hard grey stare met Kenrick’s eyes briefly before returning to their task.  “There are some things you do, Kenrick, because they are the right thing to do.  The honorable thing to do,” he added as he and Nestad finished washing off Dale.

            Dale awoke fully as they began pulling his leggings back on.  He started to thrash around at the pain, begging them to stop.  Estel and Nestad paused and spoke reassuringly to the man, explaining what they were doing and he quieted, though he whimpered with pain as soon as they touched his legs.

            “Do you need any help, Captain?”  Halbarad asked as he suddenly crouched down next to Estel.  He had seen a brief flicker of pain cross his cousin’s face and knew that all of the crouching and kneeling he was doing was not good for his injured calf.

            “We need some water for him to drink.”

            “How’s your leg?”

            Nestad looked up sharply at that.  He had not truly forgotten about Estel’s leg, but had shoved it to the back of his mind as they worked on Dale.

            Estel glanced at Halbarad briefly and then returned to what he was doing.  “I am well.  A little sore, perhaps, but the sooner we finish with Dale, the sooner I can rest.” 

            “We will tend his wounds first and then you will rest, Captain.  Any of the men can help dress him.”

            “I need the water, Halbarad,” Estel reminded his cousin.  As soon as Halbarad left, Estel looked at Nestad, “I truly am well enough to finish this,” he said quietly.  “I told you earlier that I would ask for help if I needed it and I do not.”

            Searching his Chieftain’s face intently for signs of pain, Nestad finally gave a reluctant nod.  “I still think that it would be better if you let others do this for you, but I will not insist.”

            Estel grinned at that.  “It is nice to know that I have a small amount of authority here.”  Nestad chuckled and they returned to dressing Dale.  They did not want the man to chill while they worked on his wrists.  As the man continued to move restlessly and whimpered in his pain, Estel continued speaking softly to him, but while he knew Dale heard him and even responded at times, he would not settle down.  He knew that the pain Dale was in was considerable, but he was beginning to suspect that what was bothering him most was the terror of what he had been through in the last twenty-four hours.  Estel told Nestad what he was thinking and the older healer gave him a thoughtful look.

            “It’s possible.  Did you have something in mind?”

            “I wondered if perhaps I should push him into a healing sleep.  I do not know if it would help him, but he is not going to get any rest tonight and he needs it.”

            “I thought to give him more of the willow bark tea we’ve already given him for the pain.  It would relax him enough to sleep.  But a healing sleep would be better if you’re willing to do it.”

            Estel hesitated briefly before nodding.  They gave Dale several sips of water and then, taking a deep steadying breath Estel placed his hand on the bandit’s forehead and closed his eyes to concentrate.  Reaching for Dale’s spirit all Estel felt was darkness at first and then he felt sheer terror and he recoiled back from it instinctively.  But he forced himself to go on and was, once again, able to sooth the terror and pain and helped Dale slide into a deep sleep.  Now exhausted himself, Estel pulled away from the man with a weary sigh, blinking tiredly at Nestad and Halbarad.  He took a long drink from the waterskin Halbarad handed to him.

            “I am all right,” he murmured at their concerned looks.  “Halbarad, I need a bowl of hot water.”  Estel pulled some athelas from his pack.

            “There must be a way to control that,” Nestad said frowning.  “It does little good if it wears the healer out so fast.”

            Estel nodded his agreement as he blew on the crumpled athelas leaves.  “I will speak to my adar about it the next time I see him.”  For now he let the soothing steam of the athelas refresh him for a moment before he and Nestad cleaned, stitched and bandaged each of the deep wounds on Dale’s wrists.

            “I’ll clean this up,” offered Nestad as they finished.  “Go and eat, Captain.”

            Knowing that arguing would do him no good, Estel murmured his thanks and went to join the rest of the Rangers at a second, smaller fire a short distance from Dale and the rest of the prisoners.

            “How does he fare, Captain?” Gilost asked as Estel sat down between him and Faelon.

            “He is sleeping.  The wounds will heal; mostly he is terrified of what he has endured.”  Estel thanked Daedaen for the bowl of stew he handed him, the first hot meal he had had in several days.

            “Will he be able to travel tomorrow?” Faelon asked with concern marring his brow.

            “He has to,” Estel replied between bites of his supper.  “We must return to Remlas and the rest of the men and I will not split us up again.  He will probably have to ride with someone.”  He frowned at that thought and wondered if he could keep him in the healing sleep during the ride.  It was something to consider.

            “Are you finished eating?”

            Estel looked over his shoulder at Halbarad and slowly nodded.

            “Good,” Halbarad grinned.  “Give the bowl to Gilost, I have something for you.”  Estel reluctantly did as Halbarad said, noting Gilost eye’s were sparkling with amusement as he took the bowl.  “I found this in my pack a little while ago.  You should have had it yesterday, but we were a little busy,” he grinned again as he thrust a package into Estel’s hands.  “Naneth sent this for your birthday.  I believe you are twenty-one now.”  He slapped his cousin bracingly on the back.  “May your year be blessed by the Valar, Cousin!”  He was joined in his well wishes by the rest of the Dúnedain.

            Estel smiled his thanks at his men.  He thought back briefly to his last birthday when he had simply been Estel, son of Gilraen and foster son of Elrond.  Life had been much simpler then.  Everything had changed a few weeks later when Elrond had told him his true identity.  He could, and probably always would, recall that day quite vividly.  The shock he had felt and a shiver of excitement as well.  Estel had always known he was Dúnedain and even that his father had been a good friend of Elladan and Elrohir and that they had taken him and his naneth in out of love for his father, but never had he suspected more than that.  He was now becoming more and more comfortable in his position as Lord and Chieftain of the Dúnedain.  In fact, he realized with surprise, he never hesitated anymore when someone called him Aragorn and more and more often he was starting to think of himself as Aragorn.  It was a startling realization.

            “Aren’t you going to open that?” Halbarad prodded him in the back impatiently.

            “Perhaps,” Estel shrugged and after a long moment began to slowly open the package that Aunt Nimrie had neatly tied together.  It felt like some sort of pouch and as the cloth fell away he saw that it was indeed a new belt pouch.  There was something inside of the pouch and he assumed it was pipe-weed until he opened it and saw another carefully wrapped package.  Opening the package, he grinned when he saw that his aunt had packed four of the apple tarts that he had so enjoyed at Mettarë.   They were a little dried out, but Estel did not mind.  He paused, though as he realized there were only four tarts.  He assumed that Nimrie had made one for Gilost, Halbarad, Nestad, and himself.  But now there were three more Rangers and he was not sure how to share them.  With an inward grin he realized he did not have to share the tarts.

            Trying to hide a smile, Estel picked up one of the tarts and lifted it towards his mouth.  Just as he was about to take a bite he looked up from the tart and glanced around at the others to see them either staring into the distance or staring at him with disbelief, though they quickly looked away.

            “Oh, would anyone else like to have some?” he asked, trying to sound reluctant.  There were polite refusals from those around the fire and Estel began to chuckle quietly.  The Rangers that did not know him well looked at him in surprise.

            “You should not be greedy, Cousin,” whispered Halbarad as he reached over Estel’s shoulder and broke off a piece of one of the tarts and popped it in his mouth.

            “I suppose not,” Estel said grinning as he broke the tart he held in half.  He passed the package of tarts to Gilost who took a piece of the treat eagerly before passing it on.  Daedaen and the other Ranger, seeing now that their Chieftain had only been jesting, also took a piece before handing it to Faelon.

            Faelon paused, studying his lord thoughtfully before he took a piece of the tart.  The young man had changed much since he had seen him almost six months previously.  Aragorn was obviously more confident and sure of himself and he seemed more open – even before his jesting about the tarts, Faelon had seen that change in him.  Faelon supposed that was due to him feeling more comfortable in his surroundings and living amongst their people.  Whatever the reasons, Faelon was pleased with this young man who had returned to them from the elves and he knew that he would be an excellent leader for the Dúnedain.  He passed the package back to his Chieftain who took it with a small smile before returning to his story about what it had been like to celebrate his birthdays in Imladris.

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To be continued…

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. I will answer everyone by email if I have an address.

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Character List:

Characters in bold print are Tolkien’s, all others are mine. I have listed them in family groups and given a brief description of them.

PEOPLE IN DOLOMAR:

Estel/Aragorn - 20- Well, if you don’t know who he is…

Halhigal - 70 -Halbarad’s father – Gilraen’s brother
Nimrie - 54 - Halbarad’s mother
Halbarad - 23
Ivorwen - 110 - Mother of Halhigal & Gilraen (and 2 children who died tragically)

Ladreníl - 82 -Father of Gilost & Gaerwen, head of village when Halhigal is gone.
Alpheth - 66 -Mother of Gilost & Gaerwen, sister of Arthiell
Gilost -34 -Ranger
Gaerwen - 25 -Young lady (she and Gilost are cousins of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant)
Sírdhim - 120 -Ladreníl’s father

Caladel- 53 -Father of Caladithil, patrol leader
Emeldir- 45- Mother of Caladithil, daughter of Nestad of Taurnand
Caladithil - 12 - Errand boy

Faelon - 67 - Father of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant, patrol leader
Arthiell - 62 - Mother of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant, sister of Alpheth
Baisael - 30 - Ranger
Braniell - 22 - Young lady (these 3 are cousins of Gilost & Gaerwen)
Balrant - 7 - Little boy

Talagan - 55 - Farther of Alvist & Imlos, Ranger
Linnor - 47 - Mother of Alvist & Imlos, sister of Laereth of Taurnand
Alvist - 15 - Boy, gate guard(he and Imlos are cousins of Rosruin, Eradan, & Laegrist)
Imlos - 1 - Baby girl
Rosruin - 16 - Boy, gate guard. Orphaned, lives with his Uncle Talagan’s family.

MOVED FROM TAURNAND:

Thalion - 65 - Father of Laegrist & Eradan, Patrol leader
Laereth - 60 - Mother of Laegrist & Eradan, sister of Linnor
Laegrist - 28 - Ranger
Eradan - 19 - Young man (he and Laegrist are cousins of Alvist & Imlos)

Mellonar - 101 - Husband of Nínael, teaches swordplay
Nínael - 92 - Wife of Mellonar

Nestad - 89 - Father of Emeldir and a daughter in Forntaur. Healer.

Hirgon - 48 - Father of Celin & Culas, Ranger
Rían - 45 - Mother of Celin & Culas, severely injured in Taurnand fires
Celin - 9 - Little girl, injured in Taurnand
Culas - 9 - Little boy, injured in Taurnand

Tadion - 70 - Father of Beraid, Miniel, & Tadiel. Wife and Son died in Taurnand. Ranger.
Beraid - 27 -Ranger
Miniel - 17 - Girl, both girls live in Estel’s house & are cared for by Hareth
Tadiel - 16 -Girl

Maldathor - 55 - Father of Héthurin and a son who died in Taurnand. Ranger
Hareth - 50 - Mother of Héthurin, lives in Estel’s house.
Héthurin - 14 - Girl

MISCELLANEOUS RANGERS:

Daedaen - 45 - Member of Faelon’s patrol
Remlas - 31 - Member of Faelon’s patrol

BANDITS:

Galt Thornapple - 46 - Leader
Dale Sundew - 42
Beck Nightshade - 36
Kenrick Hosta - 24 - Nephew of Dale
Will Larkspur -19

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin. Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.

Author’s Note: The next few chapters may be delayed somewhat due to vacations, etc.  And my internet connection has been giving me fits!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Dale was carefully lifted into the saddle in front of Nestad and even in his sleep he grimaced at the pain.  Nestad held him as gently as he could but there was no doubt that it was still going to be another pain-filled day for the man.  Dale’s horse and the horse that had been shot – it had indeed been a minor wound – were riderless.  Kenrick rode his own horse and Will rode the packhorse again, although he now had a proper saddle. 

            Estel wanted to ride back as quickly as possible to meet up with Remlas and the other two Rangers.  Even though he knew it had been necessary, he had not liked splitting their group apart; too much had already gone wrong on this trip and he was uneasy.  He called for the Rangers to mount up and he thanked Faelon as he helped him into the saddle once again.  Estel had awoken very stiff and sore and when Nestad had checked his wounds there had been, much to his chagrin, a couple of torn stitches.  He had had to endure several moments of the healer’s disapproving glare while the damage was repaired and his leg was massaged to help with the stiffness. 

            It was another bright morning and so they again kept to the road as they headed swiftly back east, keeping a steady pace and alternating between a canter and a walk all morning.  While they expected no problems from orcs due to the brightness of the day, the Rangers kept a close watch nonetheless.  But it remained quiet except for the peaceful sounds of the birds that filled the cool morning air.  As they neared the place where the packhorse had been eaten, they slowed to a walk, looking for signs of the other Rangers.  Estel frowned when the men did not immediately show themselves and giving a sign to the others they rode on. 

            They were forced to ride more slowly now as Daedaen rode through the woods to their left following the trail Remlas and the others had left as they tracked the orcs.  Estel could only hope that Remlas’s delay had not been caused because they had run into more orcs than the five they had been pursuing.  It was with a great sense of relief when the other Rangers rode into sight not more than a half hour later and Estel and his party reined to a halt.

            “Captain,” Remlas gave Estel a respectful nod in greeting. 

            Estel returned the greeting before turning to the matter at hand.  “Did you find the orcs?”

            “Yes, though they had traveled much further than we thought they would.  They were well past the Last Bridge when we found them, but they won’t bother anyone ever again,” Remlas replied grimly.

            “I wonder where they were headed,” Estel mused aloud. He was speaking mostly to himself but Remlas answered him, the look on his face quite serious.  Estel bit back a smile at the earnest young man who he thought was about the same age as Gilost, maybe in his early thirties or so.

            “I don’t know, I didn’t think you wanted us to capture one, Captain.  I’ve never heard of anyone doing that, but perhaps elves do such.”  Remlas looked from his Chieftain to Faelon and back.  He didn’t know this man at all and perhaps he did expect such things from his men.  He swallowed nervously as he waited for his response.

            Estel shook his head, “No, Remlas, even elves do not capture orcs.  I was merely speaking my thoughts aloud; it was not truly a question I expected an answer to.”  He watched a look of relief flicker across Remlas’s face.  Estel looked sidelong at Halbarad to see his eyes were dancing with amusement and he could tell he was also trying not to smile.  Twisting around in his saddle, he looked closely at Dale who was still asleep but appeared to be resting easier than he had been earlier in the day.  Glancing at the sun he saw that it was just an hour or so past noon and he turned to Faelon and Nestad.

            “I think it best we stop here for the day.  Dale needs the rest and certainly the horses need one, they have been pushed hard the last few days.”

            “As could you and Gilost and Halbarad,” Nestad pointed out.

            “We could press on if we needed to, but we have time,” Estel gave a graceful shrug.

            “Should we return to the ruin?  We’re close,” Faelon asked.

            “No, but we will send a couple of men to retrieve the things we left there.”

            Daedaen and a couple of other Rangers were sent back to get their tent and personal things while they set up a camp a short distance off the road.  The four uninjured bandits were quickly tied to trees while Dale was gently placed near a hastily kindled fire.  Halbarad watched over him as the rest of the men took care of the horses.  He stared broodingly at his bandaged hand for a moment before looking down at the injured man.  He thought that the bandit’s coloring seemed improved and he no longer seemed so restless.

            “How does he fare?”

            Startled by Estel’s sudden appearance, Halbarad jumped slightly.  His cousin moved quieter and more easily than any other Ranger Halbarad had been around and while he was becoming accustomed to it, he still was surprised on occasion. 

            Estel patted Halbarad’s shoulder as he sat down beside him, his injured leg carefully stretched out in front of him.  “I did not mean to startle you,” he said apologetically, though his eyes twinkled.

            Ignoring the comment, Halbarad answered the original question.  “He hasn’t moved since he was put down.”

            Dale began to stir when Estel reached over and felt his forehead.  “He is not feverish,” he sighed with relief.  “I would not want to deal with that as well.”  He glanced at Halbarad who was staring at his hand once again.  “Does it ache?”

            Halbarad shook his head, “No, it does not.”  He paused.  “How long will it take to heal?”

            “We will remove the stitches in about ten days.  The part that is sprained should feel better and you should be able to move it more freely in about a week, but it will depend on how careful you are.  If you try and use it before it is healed it will take longer.  The broken finger will take the longest to heal, maybe three or four weeks,” Estel paused at Halbarad’s stricken look.  “Since it is your smallest finger, Halbarad, I think that once your stitches are removed we might be able to do something so that you can do almost everything.  Though I am not sure how you can grip a bow,” he added thoughtfully.  “Well, all you can do is try.”

            “We’ll be in Bree before you take my stitches out… or even on our way home,” Halbarad realized with dismay as he figured out the length of their trip.

            “Probably, but my stitches will not be taken out until then, either.”

            “At least you can use your weapons easily and be of some use,” Halbarad scowled in frustration.

            Estel chuckled, which only increased Halbarad’s frown.  “I cannot even mount a horse without help, and while I can use a bow and my sword, I doubt I could run or even walk very far right now.  It will heal, Halbarad.”  He studied his cousin for a moment.  “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first patrol?”  Halbarad shook his head.  “I sliced my leg open with my own sword and Lord Glorfindel had to haul me back to my adar to have it stitched up.  I had to stay at home while it healed besides having to endure endless teasing from my brothers.”

            Halbarad began to smile and then laughed quietly.  “Your own sword?”

            “Yes, I was… startled by a noise and I jumped and lost my grip.  The sword sliced my leg open just below my knee here.”  Estel drew an imaginary five inch line on his leg.  “At least your wound was received fighting orcs.”

            “Yes,” Halbarad grinned.  “Well, then, I’ll just do what I can to help and let you do the rest of the work.”

            “Oh, he’s not going to be doing much work, either,” Nestad said as he crouched down next to Dale.  His gaze shifted between Estel and Halbarad, “Both of you need to rest this afternoon.  It’s a long way to Bree,” he added as he turned his attention to Dale.  “Has he shown any signs of waking, Captain?”

            Estel bit back the comment he was going to make; he knew the healer only had his best interests at heart.  “He stirred a bit when I checked to see if he had a fever, but he settled right back down again.  He should awake soon.”

            “Probably,” he agreed.  “Would you send out someone to get some fresh meat?  I think it would be good to make a broth for Dale and all of us would enjoy it.  If you think it’s safe, of course,” Nestad added with a small smile.

            “I will send someone as soon as Daedaen and the others return.”

            A low moan caught their attention and they looked to see Dale moving and his eyes beginning to flutter open.  As his eyes focused on the two Rangers looming over him Dale scowled and tried to move away, but he gasped at the pain and he stilled.  However, his tongue still worked.  “What are ya doing to me?”  He cautiously lifted his arms and stared at his bandaged wrists and hands before looking at Estel with puzzled, angry eyes.

            “Do you not remember what happened?”  Estel hoped that Dale had not lost his memory of the last couple of days.

            Remembrance flooded through Dale and his face paled.  “The horses… orcs.  Ya let me loose so the orcs would get me,” he snarled accusingly.

            “They don’t care what happens to us!” Galt called.

            Estel shot the bandit leader a quelling stare and the man dropped his gaze to the ground.  “We did not let you loose, Dale.  The horse behind yours was shot and they all bolted.  I am sorry.”  He decided not to mention that if Dale had not panicked they could have easily gotten him off the horse and to safety.  “We were not able to find you until last night as we were rather busy killing orcs and trying to stay alive ourselves.”

            Dale gave a disdainful, unbelieving snort as he stared at the three Rangers.  He actually did believe this captain, he had seen the number of orcs and he was surprised that they had been able to kill them all.  But, Dale was not about to let the Rangers know that he was grateful for their rescue.  He suddenly realized that there were more Rangers in the camp and knew how they had been able to overcome the orcs.

            “Your wounds, while very painful, are not life-threatening,” Estel continued after a moment.

            “You are, but not my wounds,” he muttered as he glared at Estel.

            Halbarad stifled a laugh and Estel turned stern grey eyes on him and Halbarad gave him a half-hearted, apologetic shrug.

            Dale glared at Halbarad and uttered what sounded like a curse in a language that neither Estel nor Halbarad understood, though Estel had an idea what language it might be.  Nestad knew exactly what Dale had said and while he wanted to strike the man for his insolence, he settled for grabbing his chin, forcing Dale to look at him.  “You will not speak so of any of our men, even if it is in a language you think none of us will understand.  I will not tolerate it.”  Releasing Dale’s chin he deliberately wiped his hands off on his leggings before standing and moving away from the man.

            “What did he say?” Estel asked curiously as he and Halbarad followed him.

            “I won’t repeat it,” Nestad replied firmly.  “It is not something that I would ever speak aloud.”

            “All right,” Estel said slowly deciding it did not really matter.  “I have never heard that language before, but I think it must have been the language of the Dunlending’s.”

            “It is,” Nestad scowled and looked over his shoulder at the rest of the bandits.  “Though, they do not have the look of men from Dunland.  Their skin may be slightly darker than the men from Bree, but...”  He shrugged.  “Perhaps they lived close enough to Dunland to pick up a few words of the language or, more likely, their parents or grandparents were from Dunland.”

            “It would help explain why they are bandits,” Estel murmured, as he thought about what he knew of the rough and wild people of that land.

            “Why?  Why would that make them bandits?” Halbarad asked as he had heard very little about Dunland.

            “I only know what I was taught and that is that they are a people who are quarrelsome by nature and who hate the people of Rohan in particular.  They are less civilized than most men and the lives they lead are harsh and difficult.  Perhaps these men’s families came north to escape that life but at some point these men turned to robbing and murder to take what they wanted from others.”

            “Are you going to ask them?”

            Estel shook his head, “It matters little and I do not believe that Galt or any of them would give me a true answer.  The men in Bree can do so if they think it necessary.”

            “They might already know all about them,” Nestad pointed out.

            “Perhaps, though they found Will there so evidently they moved freely about the village.  The people there might not know what they do outside of Bree.”  Estel turned as Daedaen and the other Rangers returned from the ruins with their things.  Leaving Nestad to watch over Dale, he and Halbarad went to speak with them about hunting.

0-0-0

            Estel pulled Faelon and Nestad aside after supper to speak with them about something he had been considering all afternoon.  They stepped a short distance away from the other Rangers, out of earshot, but still within sight. 

           “I would ask for your counsel about something I have been thinking about this afternoon,” Estel said quietly to the two older men.  “Ever since Remlas told us how far the orcs he was pursuing had traveled, I have been uneasy.  It is not that they would not want to escape, but that they went in the opposite direction from the rest of their troop concerns me.”

            “I’ve been wondering about that as well,” Faelon said.  “It’s not like orcs, especially as they were so close to the others.”

            “They had a specific destination in mind,” Estel stated firmly.

            “I thought that as we tracked them here.”

            “I think that we just surprised them and they thought we looked like an easy meal,” Nestad said with a mirthless smile.

            Estel nodded his agreement.  “It appears they were headed for the Angle.  The Dark Lord is increasing his attack on our people.  Because of that I thought to change our plans.  I was considering sending three of your men, Faelon, back to Dolomar and having the rest of you accompany us all the way to Bree.  I know it leaves your patrol area uncovered for longer than we planned, but we did just kill off a sizable number of orcs and I am uneasy about leaving our people unprotected.”  It was quiet for several minutes before Faelon spoke.

            “Would we then return with you to Dolomar or would you join us on our patrol?”

            “I am willing to go to your patrol area if you and Nestad believe that we should.  I plan to see all of the areas that we patrol in the next year or so anyway.  So that might be the best thing to do.”

            “Then I believe it would be wise to send men back,” Faelon said, thinking of his family and the others in the village.  Although their duty caused them to leave their families with very little protection, he would willingly give them some additional protection for a short time especially with orcs prowling around.  Unfortunately he knew that the orcs would only increase.  It appeared that the short respite of the last ten years after the dragon, Smaug, had been killed was over.

            Estel looked to Nestad who was staring at the ground with an expression that Estel could not read.  “Nestad?”

            “Who will you send back?” the healer asked abruptly as he looked up.

            “Three of Faelon’s men,” Estel responded with a shrug.  His eyes narrowed as Nestad looked pointedly down at his bandaged leg.  “I am going to Bree, Nestad.  I will not leave that duty to anyone else.”

            “Perhaps you should, Captain,” Nestad retorted.  “Faelon is well able to deliver the bandits to Bree before returning to his patrol area.”

            “I know he is,” Estel glanced at the Ranger Captain who was listening to the two men with an uneasy expression.  “But my leg will be fine long before we get to Bree.  I am going.”

            “What about Halbarad?  He cannot use a bow and I think even wielding a sword would be difficult for him.”  While Nestad had known that Aragorn would not be persuaded to turn the bandits over to Faelon, he did hope to convince him to send Halbarad home.  But he wasn’t sure he would be able to do that either.

            Now it was Estel’s turn to stare at the ground because he knew Nestad was right.  He should send his cousin back to Dolomar, but… he was interrupted by Faelon.

            “Would you prefer to discuss this privately?” his gaze drifted between the two men and settled on his Chieftain.  This conversation had the sound of something that was best discussed between the two men.  He did not know either of them well, but it sounded like it was about more than just sending home a wounded Ranger.  If it was his decision, Halbarad would have been the first man he would have chosen to send home.  Besides being wounded he was also young which meant he did not have the experience to overcome his injury as an older Ranger might.

            Estel gave him a wry smile.  “No, there is nothing we will discuss that you cannot hear.  And… and I would have your counsel as well as Nestad’s.”

            “You barely know me, my lord,” Faelon said quietly.  “Certainly not enough to value my counsel in this situation,” he stated matter-of-factly.

            “But I do value your counsel.  Halhigal would not have chosen you to be a captain without being very sure of you, Faelon.  And,” Estel added after a thoughtful pause as he intently studied the Ranger, “While we have not known each other long, it is long enough for me to know that I can trust you.”

            Faelon could only give a small nod in acceptance of his words.  He was taken aback by the piercing study that had just been done of his heart.  Never had he felt as if someone was reading and understanding him so thoroughly.  The look his Chieftain had given him was almost… elven in its intensity.

            Estel turned his gaze to Nestad who had been watching them with interest.  “Nestad, while I do admit that in most circumstances it would be wise to send Halbarad home, I do not believe that to be true this time.”

            “Why not?” Nestad was not surprised but thought if Aragorn spoke his reasons aloud then he could point out any errors in his thinking.  This was not something he intended to back down from easily.

            Raising an eyebrow at the tone of Nestad’s voice, Estel simply answered the question.  “You do remember why you are here and not Halhigal, do you not?”  At Nestad’s somewhat impatient nod, Estel glanced at Faelon and explained.  “I have appointed Halhigal my regent and it was decided that it would be best if we did not travel the wilds together.  We do not want to risk losing both of us at the same time.”

            “That’s understandable and so Nestad came in his place.”

            “Yes.”  Estel turned back to Nestad.  “You also know that Halbarad is likely to take his father’s place someday.”

            “But not for many years.”

            “Hopefully not,” Estel acknowledged.  “But he needs to be given as much and as many experiences as possible and we do not go to Bree often.”

            “If you place him in a patrol that is stationed near there he will have an opportunity to visit the village,” said Faelon.

            “That is true, but I do not think Halbarad will be joining a patrol for some time.”  At their looks of surprise, Estel sighed and continued, though these were things he would really rather not share with them.  “Nestad, you know that I have been bringing him with me to meetings that a man his age has no right being at… unless you are the Chieftain.”  They chuckled appreciatively.  “None of you have said anything, but I see the looks directed his way.  I have been surprised that you, at least, have not asked me about it.”

            “I try not to question all of your decisions, my lord,” Nestad said with a small smile.  “But that is not something that will harm him or others like going to Bree might.”

            “No, it will not.  But I bring him because I need him to learn… and learn quickly.  I believe it is important that he learn the way that I would do things… the way that I might order something done or how I would respond in certain situations.  It is not that Halbarad will not learn from others because he will, but,” Estel stared off into the woods for a long moment before looking back at the much older men.  “But I need him to know how I think and would have things done in order to prepare him for whatever the future may bring.” 

           Estel sighed and ran his hand through his long dark hair and fixed his stern grey eyes on Nestad.  “I am not bringing Halbarad to Bree, Nestad, simply because he is my cousin and I enjoy his company, which, I think, is your concern.  I would never put my needs above my duty to my people.  Nor, would I risk endangering his health for any reason.  I am taking him to Bree because, like me, he needs the experience of visiting a village of men who are not Dúnedain.”

            “What have you foreseen, Captain?” Faelon asked quietly.  He recognized that same sense of foresight that he had occasionally seen in Aragorn’s father, Arathorn, and even once with his grandfather, Arador.  Though, from what he had heard from his own father, neither of those men were considered to be particularly gifted in that area.

            “I will only say that I have foreseen that Halbarad will come early to a position of leadership.  Much earlier, I think, than most would expect and I think we owe it to him and to our people to prepare him as best we can.”

            Nestad considered all that had been said before he spoke.  “I didn’t mean to imply that you would ever put your needs above your duty, my lord.  Forgive me.”  Estel inclined his head slightly and the healer continued.  “If you’ve foreseen things that make it important for you to train Halbarad, I understand and accept that.  But, as a healer, it concerns me to have him accompany us.”

            “It does me as well, Nestad.  Do you not think I have those same concerns for him?  Or, for Gilost?  His wound is also quite severe, though it does not hinder him in the way that Halbarad’s does.”  Estel looked at Nestad with a small frown creasing his brow, wondering if the healer truly believed he was not concerned for Halbarad.  Although as he remembered all of the talks that they had had during the past months he knew that was not so.

            “I know you’re concerned about all of your people, my lord, we’ve talked about it at length in the past.  Gilost’s wound is not one that I would consider severe enough to send him home… he can still wield both bow and sword.  And, he is an experienced Ranger whereas Halbarad is not.  However, it doesn’t matter what I think, the only thing that is important is what you believe needs to be done, Lord Aragorn.  Only you know what you’ve foreseen and I trust your gift as I trust you.”  Nestad met his lord’s eyes steadily.

            Estel looked searchingly at Nestad for a long moment and then nodded once.  He could accept that Nestad disagreed with him, he understood why he did so.  Shifting his gaze to Faelon, Estel saw that the Ranger Captain was studying the ground.  “Faelon?”

            Faelon looked up.  “I would have sent Halbarad home without question, my lord.  But with what you have foreseen there is no doubt that he must accompany us.”  He shrugged.  “If he were part of my patrol in the north he would have to continue doing whatever the rest of us were doing,” his gaze shifted to Nestad briefly.  “We do what we have to do.  We’ll protect him if we need to, but hopefully he’ll heal before we face anymore orcs or bandits.”

            “Valar willing,” Nestad muttered under his breath and the other two men exchanged amused glances.

            “Daedaen and Remlas will ride with us and your other men will head back to Dolomar.  I would like you to speak with them tonight, Faelon, so that we will waste no time in the morning.”

            “Yes, Captain,” he nodded and hurried off.

            A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell as Faelon left.  “How’s your leg?” Nestad finally asked.

            “Better than yesterday, it was good to rest this afternoon.  I was more tired than I realized,” Estel admitted.  He carefully stretched his leg out in front of him and then stood gingerly.  The long time he had been sitting on the log without moving had stiffened his calf up a little.

            “An injury like that takes more out of you than you think,” Nestad agreed.  “I should check it before you sleep.”

            “I am sure that I have not pulled out any stitches since this morning, but you may check it again.”

            “You didn’t know you had pulled any this morning either,” he pointed out dryly as they walked back toward the fire.

            Estel gave him a sheepish smile as he went to join Gilost at the fire so he could listen to the stories that were being told.

            0-0-0

            As they headed towards Bree late the following morning, Dale rode his own horse that was securely tethered to the horses of both Nestad and Remlas.  His hands and feet remained untied for obvious reasons but he was closely guarded by the two men.  The rest of the bandits were tied to Gilost’s horse and were kept well away from Dale.  The Rangers returning to Dolomar had left at dawn, but the rest had lingered to give those who were injured additional rest and it was not until an hour or so before noon that Estel had decided to move on.

            Mindful of those nursing injuries, Estel set an easy pace throughout that day and for the next several days as well.  The weather remained clear but crisp and they saw no signs of orcs or any other foul creatures as they traveled or as they camped at various places along the way.  The land flattened gradually as they moved eastward, although there were still gently rolling hills in places.  Thickets and rocks covered the ground south of the road while on the north the thickets gradually disappeared until the ground was mostly barren rock.  In the distance, but drawing ever closer, stood a single, high hill that towered above the surrounding countryside.  Estel knew it was Amon Sûl or Weathertop, as men called it, and he was anxious to see it for himself. 

            Late in the afternoon of the fifth day since they had parted with the other Rangers they arrived at Weathertop.  Faelon led them to a sheltered hollow on the western side of the tall hill that the Rangers often used when they traveled through the area.  A small, nearby spring provided water and the grassy dell provided food for the horses which they eagerly tore into as soon as they were cleaned off.

            The bandits were kept under close scrutiny.  Galt, Beck, and Dale had grown decidedly more truculent the closer they got to Bree while Kenrick and Will became quieter.  Not that Kenrick had ever spoken much.  There were fewer trees in this area which made it more difficult to keep the men apart at night and they were watched even more closely than they had been in the past.

            Estel stood at the rim of the bowl like depression their camp was set up in and he stared up at the top of Weathertop with a furrowed brow before glancing down at his leg.  He had not felt any pain in his calf for at least the last day and he was able to walk on it without trouble, though he still would hesitate to run on it.  But it was a very steep climb up the hill and he wondered if it would be too much of a strain on his leg.  Well, he would at least attempt it; he could always turn around if it was too difficult.  That thought almost made Estel laugh aloud as he could not imagine himself ever doing that… ever giving up.

            “You’re going to go up there, are you not?” Nestad said as he walked up beside him.

            “Yes, I have wanted to see Amon Sûl for a very long time.  I heard many stories of it when I was a child.”

            “I imagine you did.  It must have been strange growing up with people who could not only teach you the history of events thousands of years ago but who also lived it and were part of it.”

            Estel shrugged.  “I never thought of it; it was just how it was.  It is only now that I am among my kin that it seems strange to me.  It did make things interesting,” he smiled in remembrance.

            Nestad looked up at the steep hill.  “Be careful.  I’ve been up there and the way is steeper than it looks, especially near the top.”

            “I will, and I’ll take Halbarad and Gilost with me so they can carry me if I cannot make it.”  Estel’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he glanced at Nestad who merely sighed and headed back down to the camp.  Estel watched him leave and then called for Halbarad and Gilost to join him.  The three men started up the path immediately and it took almost thirty minutes to reach the summit.  It was, as Nestad had warned Estel, very steep and rocky the last couple of hundred yards and he was slowing considerably as the crested the hill. 

            Halbarad looked at him with concern.  “How do you fare?”

            “Sore, but I will be all right in a minute,” Estel replied turning away and looking around.  A ring of broken and crumbling stones covered with slowly greening grass was all that was left of the ancient watchtower that had once housed one of the palantíri, a seeing stone.  He walked to the northern edge of the hill idly brushing the tops of the stones with his fingers as he passed.  Staring to the north he could see the Weather Hills stretching into the distance.  Estel knew that beyond the hills was Fornost, one of the ancient cities of the Dúnedain and further still were the ravaged lands where the Witch King had once dwelt.  Sighing deeply and lost in thought, Estel moved to the western edge. 

            The Bree-lands lay in that direction.  Also to the west was the Shire, a place that Estel looked forward to seeing one day.  Annúminas, the former capital of Arnor was northwest of Weathertop and Estel narrowed his eyes as he thought of that place.  Someday, perhaps, it would be restored to its former beauty.   To the south there were scattered villages of men, mostly along the Greenway all the way down to the deserted town of Tharbad.  Finally, as he turned back to the east, there were mostly the villages of his people who lived in the Angle.  There were one or two other very small villages of men east and south of Weathertop, but they were widely scattered.

            “What are you thinking about, Aragorn?” Halbarad spoke up from where he had seated himself on one of the stones.

            “Arnor,” Estel used his hand to gesture to the lands he had been studying and thinking about.  “The kingdom and lands of our people,” his gaze moved to Gilost and back.  “The lands and people we protect… the lands that are under our care.”

            “Though you were thinking specifically about your responsibilities, were you not?” Halbarad asked with a knowing smile.

            Estel nodded as he leaned against a stone near Halbarad, stretching out his sore calf.  “Some,” he admitted.  He glanced at Gilost again as the man joined them.  “But more about what it would be like here without the influence of the Dark Lord.  If the lands could be cleansed of orcs and wargs and trolls and any other foul creature that he has sent.  What would it be like for the people of these lands?  What would it be like for our people?”  He stood, then, gazing once again at the lands around them.  “To see these lands and people free would be a wonderful thing,” he whispered.

            “You could do it, Captain,” Gilost said quietly but with conviction. He looked steadily at the startled eyes of his lord.  “Someone must do it.  Why shouldn’t it be you?  Why shouldn’t it be us?  The Dark Lord has had his way here for far too long.”

            “He’s right, Aragorn.  We at least have to try.”

            “Do either of you have a plan?” Estel asked with amusement.  His amusement faded as he saw their crestfallen faces.  “Forgive me.  I was not jesting about the fact that we should try because we should.  He has had his way here for far too long and our people… all of the people suffer for it.  But I do not know how we can stop it.  We are too few to launch an attack against Mordor; we barely have enough men to defend these lands.  But I was not laughing at the idea of it.  I simply have no idea how to do such a thing.”

            “There must be a way,” Gilost said slowly.  “The Valar will not let this continue forever.”

            “No, they will not… he has to be overthrown in our lifetime or I fear it will never happen,” Estel said.  “More and more elves are leaving these shores and it is up to Men to overthrow the Dark Lord or not.”  Estel thought of Elrond’s words… foresight about how he would either rise above all of his ancestors since Elendil or Men would fall into utter darkness.  If Elrond had been given such foresight then there must be some way to complete this task he had been given, but he did not yet know how to do it.  Perhaps it was too soon to look for such a thing he mused to himself.  There were so many things he had yet to learn.

           Estel pushed aside thoughts of Arwen that were creeping into his mind.  Elrond had forbidden him to bind himself to her or to any woman until he had completed his task.  Not that he would ever consider anyone else but Arwen.  Sighing inwardly, he turned his gaze to the south.  “Gondor would also be freed of the influence of the Dark Lord, then.  I would like to see Minas Tirith someday,” he commented.

            “I’ve heard wonderful things about it,” Halbarad said.  “I think Elladan spoke of it once.”

            “He and Elrohir have been there; it was many, many years ago, though.”

            “If the Dark Lord is gone you would be King of both Arnor and Gondor,” Gilost pointed out.

            “Perhaps,” Estel shrugged.  “Gondor did not recognize Arvedui’s claim over a thousand years ago, I am not sure they would honor mine.”  He shrugged again.  “It is not something I think on,” he shot Halbarad a quelling glare and his cousin closed his mouth.  “We should return,” he said, changing the subject to avoid talking any more about it.  “I do not want Nestad to come looking for me.”  The other men chuckled as they slowly made their way down the steep hill.

0-0-0

            As the company of Rangers and their captives drew close to Bree it was becoming increasingly difficult for Estel to look at Will as the fear in the young man’s eyes was so great.  The thought of Will’s impending death was beginning to weigh heavily on Estel.  He knew that Will deserved to die for what he had taken part in, but that did not make it any easier.  While he knew the young man had made a horrible and foolish choice to go with Galt and his men, Estel wondered what had brought him to the place where he had had no food or money.  Several times he had considered asking Will what had brought him to that point, but each time he had decided not to do so, knowing that, in the end, it mattered little.

            They camped in the Chetwood the night before they were to arrive in Bree.  This heavily wooded area was to the east and north of Bree and after supper Estel, Gilost, and Halbarad finally had their stitches taken out.  Estel and Nestad spoke quietly of things in Bree as the healer removed his stitches.  Finally, Nestad paused and looked up at Estel with a somewhat uncertain expression.  “Are you going to speak to Will?”

            Startled, Estel just looked at him for a moment and then asked warily, “About what?”

            Nestad sighed, “About why he is with them.  About whatever is bothering you so much that you cannot look at him.”

            Estel looked away briefly.  “Please finish removing my stitches, Nestad.”  The healer hesitated a moment before he reluctantly continued.  “I know why he is with them,” Estel said softly.  “He had no food or money and could not find a job and Galt offered to take care of him.”  He gave a disgusted snort.  “What I would like to know is what brought him to the place where he had no food in the first place.  Why he was in Bree without money or family, either.  But,” he sighed, “it matters not.”

            “It matters to you and if you don’t speak to him, it will always be something you wonder about.”

            “I wish there were a different way for justice to be served.”

            Nestad patted his knee.  “I’m finished.”  He sat back against the log behind him and looked up at his Chieftain.  “It’s also hard for me to see him die, but there is no doubt that for the deeds he committed that it is a just punishment.  Nine people died in that one raid alone… he has never shown any remorse has he?”

            Estel gave him a thoughtful look.  “No,” he said slowly, “he has not.”

            “I didn’t think so.  Still, Captain, I think you should speak with him,” Nestad said as he glanced over at the bandits.  Only Kenrick and Will did not have gags in their mouths at this point.  Galt had had one for well over a week.  Beck and Dale had only worn theirs for the last two days as their increasing fear as they approached Bree had loosened their tongues to a point where both what they were saying and the volume at which they were speaking could no longer be tolerated.  Neither Kenrick nor Will had spoken much at all the last few days.

            With a last long look at Nestad, Estel turned and studied the bandits for a moment, his eyes eventually fixing on Will.  With a weary sigh he arose and made his way around the fire to speak to the young man.  He was aware of the curious glances cast his way by the other Rangers and that Nestad was following him, but Estel ignored all of those things as he approached Will.  The young bandit eyed Estel with fear as he crouched down next to him.  Even Kenrick, who was tied to the tree next to Will, was looking pale and frightened.

            “Will, you told me why you went with Galt and the others, but you never told me why you had no food or money.  Where is your family?”

            Will did not answer immediately as he stared at Estel, his eyes wide with fear.  He swallowed hard several times before he could respond.  “M-my family?  They-they have a farm n-north of Bree near Archet.  I-I left there… I didn’t want t-to be a farmer and my-my brother did.”  Will shivered, though not from cold and he looked away from Estel’s penetrating gaze.

            “You ran away from home?”  Estel scowled at the young man who shook his head in denial.

            “They-they knew I was leaving.  I-I wanted to do something different and m-my father said I could go.”  

            “Why did you not go home when you ran out of money?” Estel asked, appalled that he could have so easily been helped.

            “I-I didn’t want to be a failure,” he whispered, hanging his head in shame.

            Estel ran his hands through his hair and sighed deeply as he twisted slightly to glance at Nestad who only shook his head in dismay.  He turned back when Kenrick spoke.

            “Captain, sir?”  Estel motioned for him to continue.  “Will never killed no one.  Not in that raid or in the other raid that he was with us for.”

            Estel stared at Kenrick unblinkingly wondering if he had heard him correctly.  Glancing first at Will he saw that the young man seemed just as startled as he was.  But when he looked at Nestad the healer did not look all the surprised by the information.  Estel heard the low voices of his Rangers behind him and knew that they were listening to every word.  He turned his attention back to the bandits.  He looked at Galt, Beck, and Dale and could see nothing but fury in their eyes and he dismissed them immediately, not that he ever expected to get a straight answer from any of them.

            “Is that true, Will?  Did you ever kill anyone?  How many raids were you involved with?” Estel asked quietly.  He was not sure what difference any of this made, but he wanted to know the truth.

            Will looked up and met his eyes briefly before looking away again.  However, Estel was able to read the remorse and shame in his eyes.  “I never killed anyone, Captain,” he said without his usual stuttering.  “Kenrick is right, there were only two raids,” he shuddered as the memory of the raids came back to him.

            “What did you do during the raids, then?  Just stand and watch?” Estel asked with a note of doubt in his voice more to see how Will would react than from any real doubt on his part.  It somehow fit.  Will did not seem like someone that had taken life wantonly, there was still a sense of compassion about him.  Though Estel knew it would have faded rapidly if he had stayed with the bandits, even if had only watched them kill others.

            “I-I held the horses and then helped…helped,” Will stopped.

            “Go on, Will,” Estel prodded him.

            “I helped search for things… to take with us.”  He refused to say anymore than that.

            “Why did you not say anything before now?”

            “You never asked me,” he said, looking at Estel in surprise.

            “No, I did not.”  Estel still wondered why Will had not tried to protest his innocence in some manner… not that he was truly innocent even if he did not actually kill anyone… and, yet…  He sighed inwardly and looked at Kenrick.  “Why did you tell me now, Kenrick?” Estel studied the almost expressionless eyes of the young man.  The last few days had been the only time Kenrick had shown almost any emotion and that was fear.

            “He don’t deserve to die.”

            “I see.”  Estel paused and then asked the question anyway.  “What about you, Kenrick?”

            The young man let out a mirthless laugh, “I do, Captain, I do.”  His eyes glittered strangely in the firelight and Estel stared at him intently and Kenrick was forced to drop his gaze.

            “Why are you with them?” he asked quietly.

            “Galt told ya… Dale’s my uncle.  I’d no choice, my family does this and when I turned sixteen, my uncle,” he shot his uncle a look of pure hatred, “took me in and taught me all I know.”  Kenrick leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes wearily for a moment.  When he reopened his eyes and looked again at Estel the hatred was gone and only the slight expression of fear and, possibly, acceptance was there.

            Estel did not know how to respond and so he simply nodded and got to his feet and slowly walked over to Nestad shaking his head in disbelief.  As hard as it was to think of Will making such a foolish choice, it was somehow worse to think of Kenrick having had no choice at all.  He glanced at Halbarad as he joined them, his eyes showing his fury.

            “Is it too late to just take the three older ones out and shoot them,” he hissed angrily.

            “Peace, Halbarad,” Nestad said as he laid his hand on the young man’s arm.  “It would make us no better than them if we did such a thing.”

            “Not if Aragorn ordered it,” he retorted.

            “Halbarad!” Estel said sharply.  “You forget your place… and my name,” he added softly.  “I have said that I will not judge these men and to that I hold.”  He glanced back at the bandits to see that Will was watching them anxiously while Kenrick had closed his eyes again.  “However, I will speak with the mayor and other village leaders tomorrow and explain what we have learned.”

            “It will not matter, Captain,” Nestad cautioned him.  He had been around far too long and had little faith in the men of Bree.

            “Perhaps not for Kenrick,” Estel acknowledged.  “He has done much evil and has said as much.  But surely they will see that Will should not pay the same penalty as the rest of these men.”

            Nestad heard the slight hint of hope in his voice and he simply nodded.  He knew that his Chieftain would not listen to anything that he had to say about the judges of men.  And, perhaps he was wrong.  Perhaps things had changed in Bree since the last time he had been there over thirty years ago.  But, somehow he doubted that it had changed at all.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. 

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin. Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.

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           Estel rode up to the South-gate of Bree.  He looked around curiously at the deep dike and tall hedge that protected the village.  The Great East Road ran directly into the village which was built on and up against a large hill.  The road took a wide turn inside the village and then split into two directions as it left Bree once again.  Each of the three entryways were protected by strong wooden gates; although on this beautiful spring morning the South-gate was open and a thick pole was down to block the opening.  Holding a long sturdy pike the gatekeeper stood behind the pole and it was to this man that Estel now looked.

            “Whata ya want in Bree?”  The gatekeeper’s suspicious eyes darted rapidly from Estel to the five men tied to their horses and on to the three other Rangers before returning to Estel.  Only Faelon, Halbarad, and Nestad had accompanied Estel into Bree as they did not want to overwhelm the villagers with the presence of so many Rangers.  Faelon, who had been in Bree more recently than any of the others, had spent time the previous evening speaking with Estel and the others about the layout of the village and what they might expect from its people.

            “We captured these bandits and need to deliver them to your mayor for judgment,” Estel responded.  His expression was grave as he looked down at the man and something about it made the gatekeeper take a step back.  But he quickly recovered and with a scowl he stepped up to the pole once again his hands tightening their grasp on the pike.

            “Howda I know that ya aren’t bandits, too?”

            Estel blinked in surprise.  That was not something that had occurred to him… that they would be thought of as bandits themselves.  He knew that people were suspicious of Rangers, but he did not think it ran this deep.  “I assure you we are not,” he held his hands out palms up in a non-threatening manner.  “We caught these men after they had killed two families and we have traveled for many days to bring them here because we believe those families were from Bree.”

            The gatekeeper’s scowl deepened, though it was now directed at the men who were bound as he looked them over more carefully.  His eyes widened in recognition and surprise.  “They was here a few months back!” he exclaimed.  “I remember ‘em leaving around… Yule, I think… it were cold anyway.”

            “I believe that would be about the right time,” Estel replied, wondering what it would take to convince the man to allow them into the village and if the gatekeeper truly thought that he could keep armed men from entering Bree when he was armed with only a pike.  “May we take them to your mayor… your village leaders for judgment?” he asked once again.  “I think they would be interested in speaking with us about these bandits and the families they killed.”  

            The gatekeeper hesitated, looking around to see if there was someone he could speak with for their opinion, but the only ones nearby were a few boys who had stopped their play and were staring wide-eyed at the men.  Everyone else was at the market that was being held in the village square.  He looked closely at the leader of the Rangers who met his gaze steadily and the gatekeeper decided that he would take a chance on trusting him.  “I’ll let ya in.  The market’s today.  The mayor’s probably at the square.  Do ya want one of them boys to show ya where that’s at?”

            “No, thank you.  But, what is the mayor’s name?”  

            “Lee Appledore.  He’s the tanner.”  The gatekeeper set aside his pike and began dragging the heavy pole out of the way.  He opened it just enough for the horses to squeeze through. 

           With quiet words of thanks, Estel led the way through the gate and into Bree.  On their right were the houses of men and further up the hill, were the holes of hobbits.  To the left of the road was a fenced field where horses, cows, and sheep were grazing and further on was a blacksmith shop and other small buildings.  Estel beckoned for Faelon to join him once they were a short distance from the gate.

            “Where is the square?”

            “Just past the fork in the road, Captain,” he made a small gesture in front of them.  “Past the smithy,” he added.

            “I see it.”  Estel grimaced at the sight of all of the people in the village square.  He knew that market day would draw people from the other small villages that made up the Bree-lands; Archet, Combe, and Staddle.  Having additional people in the village would make their task more difficult… perhaps not more difficult, but more uncomfortable and would draw additional attention to themselves, which was something he did not want to do.  “Is there a stable where we may leave the horses?”

            “Near the smithy,” Faelon said.

            They rode up to the stable and a couple of boys ran out to them, their greetings dying on their lips as they saw who had ridden into the yard.  The boys, whom Estel thought were about thirteen years old, shrank back, their eyes full of fear.  Estel did not know if their fear was directed at himself and the Rangers or at the bandits or both, but he spoke softly to them as he dismounted.

            “We need to stable our horses for the day.  Do you have room for them?” he smiled to try and ease their fear.

            Wiping his hands nervously on his trousers, the older looking boy finally answered him, “We-we have room, sir.  Though they’ll have to go in the pen and not in stalls… if-if that’s all right.”  

            “That will be fine.”  Estel turned to his men and motioned for them to dismount.  Halbarad was the last one off his horse as all of the bandit’s horses were tethered to his.  Estel, Faelon, and Nestad turned their horses and the packhorse over to the two stable boys who immediately led them into the pen while the Rangers turned back to the bandits.  Halbarad tied his horse to a post and drew his sword.  Estel also drew his while Faelon and Nestad began taking the bandits off the horses. 

            Kenrick did not resist as he was taken down and led to a fence post and tied securely.  Estel did not even watch as he was led away, he kept his eyes fixed on Galt, Beck, and Dale who were struggling against their bonds.  The ropes attaching Dale to the saddle had been fixed in such a way that they did not touch his wrists and yet kept him firmly in place.  Will was trembling violently as he was led past Estel and it was all he could do to not reach out and comfort him in some way.  But all he could do was hope that this mayor… this Lee Appledore and the other village leaders would be just men.

            “Cease your struggles, Beck!” Estel called out sharply as Faelon and Nestad began to undo his bonds.  “You know it will do no good.”

            Beck glared at him with eyes that were full of fury.  The gag he wore prevented him from speaking, not that Estel had any doubt what the man would say.  The two Rangers dragged the struggling man across the yard and tied him tightly to a fence post.

            “Stay back,” Estel warned the two boys as they returned for more of the horses.  The boys pressed themselves up against the wall of the stable and watched wide-eyed as the last two men were taken down.  The horses were moving and snorting under the struggles of Dale and Galt and Estel stepped up to grab the bridle of Dale’s horse.  His eyes never left the bandits as he spoke soothingly to the horse which settled down under his ministrations. 

            Faelon grabbed Dale’s upper arm as Nestad loosened the ropes holding him in place.  As soon as his feet were free Dale kicked out at Faelon and caught him square in the chest.  Losing his hold on Dale, Faelon fell back grunting in pain with the breath knocked out of him.  Dale leaped off the horse and, ignoring the yells to halt, darted towards the stable aiming for the door or perhaps to grab one of the boys that were now cowering on the ground in fear.  He would take them captive if it would guarantee his freedom.  Dale was jerked to a stop when a hand grabbed his tunic collar and he felt the cold steel of a blade pressed to his throat.

            “Do not move,” Halbarad hissed in his ear.  “I will cut your throat and save the men of this village the trouble of hanging you if you do so.”

            Cursing quietly behind his gag, Dale did as he was told.  Freedom had seemed so close even though he knew that he probably would not have been able to escape these cursed Rangers.  They were too watchful and even the fact that he had been able to get free for a moment had been because they had been kinder to him since his injuries and he was not bound in the same way as his companions.  He shifted uneasily as the Captain suddenly appeared before him; he had not even heard the man’s approach.  Not willing to meet his eyes, Dale simply stared at the ground.

            “You are fortunate that Captain Faelon is not hurt, Dale,” Estel said with restrained anger in his voice.  He was not surprised that the man would try to escape and his anger was directed more at himself than at Dale.  If the bandit had gotten to the boys there was no telling what might have happened.  Estel shook himself from that thought and concentrated on Dale.  “Come,” he said tersely grabbing one of Dale’s arms while Halbarad took the other.  They led him over to where the other bandits were tied and none too gently pushed him to the ground and tied him to a post.

            Nestad was holding the reins of Galt’s horse with one hand and a sword to Galt’s chest with the other while Faelon stood brushing off his clothes when Estel and Halbarad returned.  “How do you fare?” Estel asked quietly.

            Scowling over at Dale for a moment Faelon just shrugged, “I’m all right, Captain.”

            “Good.”  Estel knew Faelon’s chest would be bruised where Dale had kicked him, but his pride would suffer the most.  Seeing that Nestad had Galt under control for the moment, Estel strode over to speak with the two boys who were still sitting on the ground, their eyes wide with fear.  As they tried to press back further into the wall of the stable Estel crouched down in front of them.  “I am sorry that man scared you,” he said gently.  “Those men are bandits and we brought them here to be judged, but we should have done a better job of restraining him.  We will not let them hurt you,” he promised.

            “Are-are ya going to leave ‘em here?”

            “Yes, for a little while, but two of my men will guard them and you will be quite safe.”

            Taking deep breaths the two boys slowly pushed themselves off the ground.  “All right,” the younger boy said stoutly.  “We’ll still take care of yer horses.”  The boy started to move past Estel but he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder to hold him back.

            “Wait until we have Galt off his horse.”  Estel rejoined his men and this time he and Halbarad were much closer to Galt with their swords right near his body to stop him from any sudden movements and he was quickly taken down and tied to a post.  Estel then indicated the boys could take the horses away.

            “Did you re-injure your hand?” Estel suddenly asked Halbarad as he noticed his cousin carefully flexing the fingers on his left hand which was still lightly bandaged even though they had removed the stitches the previous evening.  His broken finger was tightly bound to the finger next to it in order to keep it from moving.

            Halbarad gave him a small smile, “I don’t think so… just banged it a little bit on Dale when I grabbed him.”

            Estel studied him for a moment before turning to Faelon, ignoring Nestad’s grim face as he did so.  “I want you to come with me.  You know the village better than anyone else.  Nestad, I want you to take charge here and make sure no one disturbs the prisoners.  I do not know how long this will take, but hopefully we will not be gone long.”  Estel started away and then called back over his shoulder, “You should probably check Halbarad’s hand while we are gone, Nestad.”  The amused look on his face died as Estel glanced at Faelon whose face was stern and remote.

            “Do you know where the tanner’s shop is?” Estel asked the older Ranger.

            “Yes, I’ve seen it but, as the gatekeeper said, the mayor is probably in the square with his wares.  I wish the market wasn’t being held today,” Faelon added almost under his breath.

            “It would have been better,” Estel agreed.  He was becoming aware of the stares that were being directed their way as they neared the square.  Many of the villagers standing behind their makeshift stands were staring at them as were the milling customers.  Estel’s face was impassive, though his eyes moved around curiously as he looked at the people - especially the hobbits - and the items that were for sale.  There were different colors of rough-woven cloth, animal pelts that had been trapped over the winter, baskets, pottery, herbs, dried and smoked meats, freshly baked goods, and many other things.  Estel and Faelon ignored the looks they were receiving as they made their way through the crowd looking for the tanner and the leather goods he would be selling.

            Estel was extremely uncomfortable at the looks they were receiving and the way that the villagers were moving away from him and Faelon.  Never had he been made to feel as if he were less than other people but he could feel the scorn and… fear of the people that surrounded them.  It saddened him greatly and yet he knew that there was nothing he could do that would change it, the feelings of these people were long held and passed down to their children at a very young age.  Faelon touched his arm.

            “That must be him, Captain,” he murmured indicating a stand that was displaying belts, sheaths, pouches, and other things made out of leather.  A stout middle aged man was standing behind the makeshift table watching them with keen brown eyes as they crossed to him.

            “Are you Mayor Appledore?” Estel asked politely looking the short balding man over a little more closely.

            The man nodded as he looked between the two Rangers, “I am.  What can I do for you two… Rangers?”  There was just the slightest hint of question in his voice.

            “We are indeed Rangers and we have brought five bandits with us,” the mayor’s eyes widened at that.  “We caught them just after they had killed two families that we believe were from Bree and so we felt it would be best to return them here for you to judge and punish them,” Estel explained.

            “Five bandits?  You brought five bandits here?  Where are they?” the mayor asked sharply.

            “We left them at the stable with a couple of my men.”  

            The mayor took a deep breath as he scratched his head and gave the two Rangers a long look before he spoke again.  “Well, I suppose we’ll have to deal with ‘em if those families was from Bree.  Can you prove that, though?”  

            “We have some of their possessions with us that we hoped could be used to tell you who they were.  The bandits had stolen them, though some of the things may be from other raids.”  Estel shrugged slightly, “There appears to be too much to be from just this one raid.”  

            “There were a couple of families that left here a few months ago,” Appledore admitted with a thoughtful frown.  He glanced around the crowded square with a deep sigh.  “I only wish you’d come another day.  I hate to give up selling my wares now, this is the best crowd we’ve had this spring.”  He ran his hands over his leather goods.

            Estel glanced at Faelon from the corner of his eye only to find that the Ranger was looking down at the table with a stoic expression.  “We are sorry for that as well, though we had no knowledge of your market before we arrived.  Is there someplace you would like us to take them?  Do you have a place to lock them up?”  Estel was anxious to get them away from the stable and into some sort of secure building.

            “We’ve a couple of cells behind the Hall, though we don’t use ‘em much.  I’ll send some men to help you and to show you the way while I get Clay, Edwin, and Tolman so we can judge ‘em and get it over with.”

            “Who are Clay, Edwin, and Tolman?” Estel asked cautiously.

            “They’re the members of the council and help me make decisions for the villages.  I’ve seen ‘em wandering around here this morning.  You go on back to the stable and wait for my men,” said Appledore as he began to look around for someone to watch his goods.

            Surprised at such a casual dismissal, Estel was beginning to respond when he felt a small tug on his sleeve.  “We should go, Captain,” Faelon whispered for his ears only.  With a reluctant nod Estel turned and headed back toward the stable, again ignoring the looks of the villagers.  As they walked back through the market area he noted the stands that had food they could use and hoped they would have time to come back and purchase some for the rest of their journey.

            “Is it always like this?  The people staring like that?” Estel asked Faelon as soon as they were beyond the last of the market stands. 

            “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.  “Though, I usually don’t see many people when I’m here.  I don’t stay around very long.”  Faelon gestured across the road at a tall building.  “I will usually get a meal at the Prancing Pony and speak to the innkeeper.  Butterbur usually knows what’s going on around these parts and,” a small smile crossed his lips briefly, “he does make good beer.”

            Estel grinned in return, “Well, then, hopefully we will have a chance to taste some.  And a hot meal would be nice as well.”  The sight of the bandits sobered him again and he looked to Halbarad and Nestad to see if there had been any problems.

            “They’ve been quiet, Captain,” Halbarad said at Estel’s questioning look.  “Did you find the mayor?”

            “Yes, and he is sending some men to help us take them to some sort of prison they have here while he gathers the members of his council.”

            “Then they will judge them quickly?  Today?” Nestad asked.  He was anxious to leave as quickly as possible.

            “It appears so,” Estel nodded glancing at the bandits to see that only Will was watching them, his eyes filled with fear.  Estel quickly looked back at his men.  “We will need to take the things from the packhorse with us, I believe that we can safely leave the rest of our belongs here.”  Faelon gave a small nod.  “How is your hand, Halbarad?” Estel asked as he suddenly remembered his cousin’s hand being injured.

            “I can still use it just fine,” he answered evasively.

            “Halbarad,” Estel growled warningly and his cousin looked at him in surprise.

            “I just sprained it a little bit but it doesn’t hurt!”

            Estel looked from Halbarad to Nestad who shrugged, “It doesn’t appear to be much worse than it was, Captain.”

            “Captain,” Faelon's low voice caught Estel’s attention and he looked over to see three men walking towards them.  They were large, rough looking men and Estel had the sense that the mayor had used them for this kind of work before.  He stepped forward to meet them at the edge of the stable yard.

            “Did the mayor send you?” he asked looking down at the shorter men.

            The man who was obviously the leader scowled slightly in return at this tall Ranger.  “Appledore said ya had some murdering thieves we was ta take to the lock-up.”  He turned to glare at the five bandits, some of whom glared right back.

            Sighing inwardly, Estel drew the man’s attention back to himself.  “We have five bandits that we need you to help us take to the lock-up.  You will listen and follow my directions, though.  I will not have them hurt if I can help it.”  

            All three of the men simply stared at him and two of them began to snicker while the leader responded slowly… as if speaking to a dim-witted child.  “Whatta we care if they’re hurt?  Sounds like they’re gonna hang ‘em later.”  He shrugged.  “They killed people from what Appledore said so I don’t care if they’re hurt a bit now.”

            “But I do,” Estel said flatly, his grey eyes stern.  “These men have not yet been judged or sentenced and they will not be mistreated.”  

            The three men took uneasy steps back under Estel’s piercing gaze but he ignored them and turned to his own men.  “I will lead Kenrick and Will if you three will take the others with the help of these men.”

            “Captain, I think Halbarad should lead Kenrick and Will,” Nestad spoke up quietly.  “His hand isn’t badly injured, but it could interfere with what he needs to do or he might injure it further.”

            “All right,” Estel nodded his agreement and turned back to the village men who were staring at them with puzzled expressions, not understanding what had been said.  “Three of these bandits have been more… difficult to handle than the other two and I want you to help us with those three.  They will run if given the opportunity to do so.”  He quickly paired them up and with the help of the leader of the villagers, Estel untied Galt and dragged the struggling man to his feet.  Galt tried desperately to wrench his arms free from the firm grasp of Estel and the other man but they held him steady while Halbarad retied the bandit’s arms behind his back leaving only his feet free.  Soon, Beck and Dale were in the hands of Faelon and Nestad along with the two other men from the village.  Halbarad turned to Kenrick and Will and quickly untied their bonds.

            “Get up, Kenrick, Will,” he ordered quietly.  His face devoid of expression, Kenrick did as he was told even putting his hands behind his back for Halbarad to tie them.  Will looked beseechingly at Estel as he got unsteadily to his feet.

            “Wh-where are you taking us, Captain?”  His frightened eyes flicked to the village men and back to Estel.  

            “To the village lock-ups where you will wait for the mayor and his council to pass judgment.”

            Will said nothing further as Halbarad bound his hands and pushed him gently, yet firmly in the direction of the lock-ups, which were down the road and past the Prancing Pony.  They would not have to go through the market area but close enough for people to see them and to attract attention.  However, it could not be helped; there was no back way to get to the Hall or the lock-ups.

            Estel noticed that Beck had given up his struggles and simply walked with his head down while Nestad and the villager kept a tight grip on his arms.  Dale struggled furiously to get away from Faelon and the villager holding him, but the two men were more than enough to keep him moving.  Galt had decided not to walk and so Estel and his partner were almost dragging him along the dirt road.

            “What is your name?” Estel asked the villager after they had been walking for several minutes.

            The man looked at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.  “Bill,” he said finally. “Yours?”  

            Estel realized his mistake too late.  In trying to be somewhat friendly with the man, he had backed himself into a corner.  He could not give him his real name and he could not very well tell this man to call him captain, yet he did not know what else to do.  “My men call me captain,” he replied.

            Bill gave a derisive snort, “I’m not one of yer men, Captain.”  Shaking his head and muttering under his breath he turned his gaze to the road ahead pulling more forcefully on Galt’s arm to hurry him along.

            They did indeed attract a crowd of villagers who clutched their children to themselves as they watched them pass.  The Rangers could hear them talking as much about them as they were about the bandits and they exchanged quick looks with each other.  Even as he dragged Galt along Estel paid attention to his surroundings as best he could not knowing if he would have time to do so later.  These were part of his people… part of his responsibility and so far it was a hard thing for him to accept.  That people who disliked him on sight without even knowing him were ones that he was responsible for.  Estel chided himself inwardly; he had known this was going to happen.  He had been told many times by the other Rangers that the people here treated them with scorn and suspicion.  But it was not the same as experiencing it.  And whether the people liked or accepted him and his Rangers or not did not lessen their responsibility toward them in any way, it just made it a little more difficult, perhaps.  But they were only men and being disliked and scorned by people you are protecting – even without their knowledge - was not an easy thing.  Estel could see it in his men’s eyes at times, though they mostly kept their feelings hidden.

            When they reached the village lock-ups they found Mayor Appledore and two other men waiting for them.  Appledore quickly opened the door and they hurried inside with the prisoners.  There were only three cells in the building and, after a very brief discussion, Galt was given his own cell while Dale and Beck shared one and Kenrick and Will were placed in the third. 

            “Should we untie them, Captain?” Halbarad asked Estel before he left the cell.

            Estel hesitated and looked at Appledore.  “Should we untie them, Mayor Appledore?  Are you going to judge them soon?”

            Appledore shook his head.  “No, it’ll be a couple of hours yet.  Tolman’s already headed home and I sent someone after him.  He lives in Staddle.  Go ahead and untie ‘em.”  He looked at the bandits more closely and then back at Estel.  “You have gags on ‘em?”  

            “Yes, it is not safe to travel the wilds with men who do not know how to be quiet nor would I suffer their disrespect.”  

            “I see,” Appledore said slowly and with a sidelong glance at the two councilmen who had accompanied him.  “You may remove those as well.”   

           Estel gave him a curt nod not liking the expressions on the faces of any of the three men.  They had obviously never traveled the wilds, or perhaps it was just the same lack of respect they held for all Rangers.  The Rangers began untying the bandit’s hands and removing gags.  Just as Estel had known would happen, Galt began yelling and cursing as soon as the gag was removed and he was quickly joined by Dale.  Only Beck did not join them, he seemed to have given up now that all hope of escape was gone.  Most of what the two bandits were saying was muffled by the thick doors of their cells, but enough escaped through the small windows in the doors to cause Estel to make a small comment to Appledore.  “That is why they wore gags.”  

            Appledore shrugged.  “We’ll judge ‘em in the Hall as soon as Tolman returns.  Where will you be?”  

            Estel glanced at the other Rangers briefly before he decided.  “At the Prancing Pony, we have not had a decent meal for some time.”  

            “I’ll send someone for you, then.”  He turned to head outside and then paused as he remembered something.  “Captain, this is Clay Rushlight and Edwin Goatleaf,” he said pointing to the two men who had been standing silently near him.  “Clay is from Archet and Edwin is from Combe.”

            As he greeted the two men, Estel looked them over carefully.  Clay was a tall muscular man with dark brown eyes that were full of distrust as he nodded curtly in reply to Estel’s greeting.  Edwin was shorter and, by his dress, he looked to be a farmer.  He appeared nervous and Estel was not sure if it was because of the bandits, though he thought it more likely it was because of his and his men’s presence.  Estel and the Rangers followed the mayor outside leaving Bill and the two other village men to watch over the prisoners. 

            A small group of people had gathered and Appledore began speaking to them as the Rangers slipped through the crowd and headed for the Prancing Pony.  In spite of his concerns about what was going to happen later, Estel was looking forward to visiting the inn.  He was interested to see what a typical inn of men was like as there was no such thing among the Dúnedain.  He exchanged a quick glance with Halbarad as they went up the steps to see his own eagerness mirrored in his cousin’s eyes.  Estel ignored the small resigned sigh he heard from Nestad behind him.

            Walking through the doorway into the inn, Estel was overpowered by the variety of smells that assaulted his nose.  Pipe-weed was the predominate scent but it was interlaced with the smell of beer, baking bread, some type of stews and meats, and underneath it all the unwashed bodies of Men.  It was a strange mixture and he stood, unmoving, for a moment to become accustomed to it before venturing further into the building.  As they reached a counter a short round man came rushing towards them with a smile that Estel could tell was feigned.  The man’s eyes showed the same mistrust as every other villager they had spoken with.

            “What’ll ya be needing? A room? Something to eat?” he asked as he wiped his hands off on his stained apron.

           “Just something to eat,” Estel replied.

            “And beer,” added Halbarad, grinning.

            “Parlor or common?” the innkeeper asked.

            When Estel hesitated and glanced at the two older Rangers, Faelon spoke up.  “Common room, Barclay.”  Faelon knew that Estel and Halbarad would not be satisfied shut off in one of the private dining parlors and the common room was the best way to learn what was going on in the Bree-lands. 

            “This way, then.”  Barclay led them to a table in a corner of the room knowing that the Rangers always preferred to sit in the shadowy parts of the large common room.  The room was less than half full as it was an hour short of noon and the market was still going strong.  “Nibs will bring ya some beer,” Barclay said as he hustled off to another table that was calling for him.

            Before they sat down there was a quick shuffling of benches and chairs, as none of the Rangers were willing to sit with his back to the room.  Estel looked around and saw that there were mostly men in the room with just a few women at one or two tables.  A table at the far side of the room near a window held a party of hobbits that were laughing about something.  Halbarad nudged him as the beer arrived.  A hobbit with brown curly hair arrived carrying a tray with four mugs and a large pitcher.  He slid the tray carefully onto the table.

            “Here ya are!  Some of Butterbur’s best beer,” Nibs proclaimed with a wide grin as he began pouring the beer into the mugs and handing it out.  “Now, do ya want stew or Missus Butterbur’s cooking pork roast special ‘cause of the market today.”  He waited expectantly, the smile never leaving his face.

            Estel could see it was a genuine smile and he smiled back at the hobbit.  “I would like the pork.”  The other men ordered the same.  “The hobbit does not seem to dislike us,” he commented after Nibs had walked away.

            “Hobbits are usually a little friendlier than men here,” Faelon agreed.  “And Nibs here has always been uncommonly friendly.”

            “He doesn’t look quite like what I thought a hobbit would look like,” Halbarad whispered after taking a long, satisfying drink of his beer.  “How about you, Captain?”

            “He is not the first hobbit I have seen, Cousin,” Estel responded.  “Though this is the first time I have ever spoken with one.”  He narrowed his eyes and ran his finger around the lip of his mug as he thought back.  “I was ten when a hobbit and a group of dwarves came through Imladris but I was not allowed to speak with them and I only saw them from a distance.  I understand now why I was kept away from them but I did not at the time and I was very upset.”  Estel smiled slightly.  “However, I was not upset for very long as Elladan and Elrohir took me out into the wilds camping and taught me woodcraft and such and I had a marvelous time.”

            “That was the group of dwarves and hobbit that took down the dragon,” Nestad said as they had heard some stories of what had happened.

            Estel nodded, “Yes, it was.  The hobbit, Bilbo, came back through many months later and again I went camping with my brothers, but later Glorfindel told me stories of what had occurred.  It sounded very exciting to a ten-year old boy.  Glorfindel tried to impress on me what a battle is really like… the noise and the chaos and the blood and the pain… and people dying.”  Estel shook his head and then looked up with a brief grin, “But try telling a ten-year old boy about that.”  His friends chuckled lightly.

            “It was the same with Baisael at that age,” Faelon said, “and I think Balrant is worse.  He looks up to both me and his brother.”

            “And to the Captain,” Nestad added with a sidelong glance at Estel who shrugged and gave Faelon a small smile that was returned.

            The four men continued to speak quietly of their homes and families as their lunch was served and they began to eat.  As they spoke they also kept an eye on the room around them and were well aware of the people coming and going and the fact that as more and more arrived for lunch the tables around them remained empty.  Nibs returned with a second pitcher of beer as they finished their meal.

            “There’s honey cakes if you want ‘em,” the hobbit said grinning.

            “I’d like one,” Halbarad said quickly and Estel indicated he would also have some of the dessert as would Nestad.  Faelon shook his head.  As Nibs left to get the honey cakes Faelon turned to Estel.

            “Perhaps I should go and get the things we need at the market while you three finish eating.  We may not have time later.”

            Estel thought for a moment and then nodded.  “If you do not mind going on your own, then go and do so.”  He reached into his belt pouch and took out a small leather bag of coins and handed it to Faelon with a wry smile.  “It is best you go anyway as I do not know how much things should cost and would probably pay too much.”

            Faelon grunted an acknowledgment as he took the bag and weighed it in his hand for a moment before handing it back with a smile playing about his lips.  “I do know this much, Captain,” he said softly, “you will have to pay for the food you’ve been eating and the beer you’ve been drinking so I’ll leave this with you.  I’ve got money.”  He inclined his head and made his way through the room and out the door.  Halbarad and Nestad grinned at Estel’s slightly embarrassed look as he put his money away with a small shrug. 

           They sat quietly then, speaking softly at times but mostly observing and listening to the people in the room… without being obvious about it.  All of the tables were now full as it was just after noon and Barclay, Nibs, and the other servers were rushing around trying to take care of all of the customers.  Estel was fascinated watching the people but the thought of being in such a place on a regular basis was less than appealing.  His attention was drawn away from the villagers when Halbarad and Nestad drew out their pipes and at Halbarad’s challenging look he brought out his as well.  He had been using it more and more frequently on this trip and he was starting to see the appeal of it.  It was a half an hour or so after Faelon had left when Clay, the councilman from Archet, showed up.

            “Tolman’s back,” he announced without preamble as he arrived at their table.  The people at the tables near them stopped speaking to listen in; word of the bandits had quickly spread in the village.  “Appledore wants to start as soon as ya can get there.”  

            “We will be there in a moment,” Estel answered politely not liking this man’s demanding attitude and expectations.

            Clay looked pointedly around the table which was cleared off except for the half full mugs of beer and he looked back at Estel with an eyebrow raised in question.

            “As I said, we will return to the Hall in a few minutes,” he repeated not about to be intimidated by this man.  He also planned to wait for Faelon to return. 

            “Don’t be long,” he almost snarled as he turned and stalked out of the room passing Faelon on the way.

            “What’s the matter?” Faelon asked with concern as he sat down.

            “He’s impatient,” Nestad said, “and, I believe, used to getting his way.”

            Estel nodded, “Did you get what we need?” he asked Faelon.

            “Yes, and I took it back to the stable and packed it in our saddlebags.”

            “Thank you,” Estel said as he stood and began making his way towards the door.  He stopped at the counter to pay Barclay who barely spoke to them, but Nibs called a cheery good-bye as they left.  Estel took a deep breath of fresh air as he stepped out the door.

            “It was very good food and beer,” Halbarad said as they headed to the Hall.  “But, I didn’t like the way people stared at us and acted around us… like we’re some sort of bandits.”  He frowned.

            “Best get used to it,” Nestad advised clapping him lightly on the back.  “It’s the way we’re treated in almost all villages.”

            They went to the lock-ups thinking to help move the prisoners to the Hall and found that they had already gone.  In the Hall they were stunned at what they found.  All five of the bandits were tied to chairs but Galt and Dale had obviously been beaten as their lips were cut and bleeding and one of Galt’s eyes was swelling shut.  Evidently the other three had not resisted because they did not appear to be as bad off, though red marks on their faces indicated they had at least been hit. 

            Estel turned to Mayor Appledore with a dangerous glint in his eye.  “Why have they been beaten?”

            “They didn’t come willingly,” he replied as if were obvious.

            “Will and Kenrick would never resist,” Estel protested angrily shaking off Nestad’s hand as the healer tried to calm him.  “And no one should be mistreated while they are prisoners.”  

            “As if ya didn’t mistreat us,” Galt snarled.

            “Keep yer mouth shut,” Bill ordered raising his hand to strike Galt but stopping at the looks he received from all four Rangers.  The people that were filing into the Hall to watch muttered at that.

            “Are these men murderers and thieves or not?” Clay asked.

            “Yes, they are, but I do not believe they should be mistreated.  Punished for their crimes, yes, but not treated cruelly.”  

            “Enough,” Appledore raised his hands and shook his head.  “There is no point in continuing this discussion.  These men are here for us to judge… though it sounds like there is little doubt of their guilt.”  He moved to take a seat behind a table and as he did Estel saw that the fourth councilman, Tolman, was a hobbit.  The Rangers took seats off to the side leaving the five bandits facing the judges.  There was a gap behind the bandits and then rows of benches which were now filled with villagers who had come to watch.  Appledore called for the people in the back of the room to quiet down and then looked at the prisoners facing him and the other members of the Bree-lands council.

            “I’m Mayor Appledore.  This is Mr. Rushlight, Mr. Goatleaf, and Mr. Underhill and we’re here to judge and sentence you for murdering two,” he glanced at Estel who nodded, “two families.  Now, I want to know your names and where you’re from.  Starting on this end,” he gestured to Beck.

            “Beck Nightshade,” he said studying the wall behind the mayor.  “I’m not from anywhere in particular.”  

            “Ya must have a home somewhere,” Clay said sharply as he frowned at Beck.

            Beck looked at him briefly and then away again.  “No, I don’t, I move from place to place.”  

            “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Appledore said after exchanging glances with his fellow council members.  He indicated that Dale should speak and he wouldn’t until Bill nudged him – hard – in the back.

            “Dale Sundew and, like Beck, I move from place to place.”  

            Knowing he was not going to get more information than that from these men, Appledore just motioned the next men to continue.

            “Kenrick Hosta.”  He didn’t bother saying anything else realizing that the men really didn’t care and it wouldn’t matter.

            Estel almost jumped out of his chair as Bill hit Galt twice on the back of the head to get him to speak.  Only the fact that Nestad was tightly gripping his arm and his own realization that it would not do any good kept him seated.

            “Galt Thornapple,” he muttered glaring at the council members who ignored him and looked at the last prisoner.

            “W-Will Larkspur, sir,” he whispered, hanging his head.  The crowd stirred at that and murmurs and whispers broke out amongst them.  Appledore held up his hand for silence as Clay got to his feet.

            “Yer family has a farm near Archet, doesn’t it, boy?  I knew you looked familiar.  Does yer family know where ya’ve been and what ya’ve been doing?” Clay asked with a scowl.

            “No, sir.  I didn’t tell them anything.  I-I just left.  I-I thought…”  Will’s voice trailed off and he stared at the floor.

            Clay shook his head in disgust and sat back down.  He leaned over and whispered to the other council members and there was some quiet discussion between the four of them for several minutes.  Finally, the mayor straightened up and looked over to the Rangers and his gaze landed on Estel, though he looked slightly puzzled as if wondering about his age compared to the other, older, men.  “Tell us what happened and why you think these men killed the families and why you think the families were from Bree.”  

            Estel stood and walked over until he was standing next to the bandits and facing the council members and began explaining all that they had heard and seen.  “Some of my men and I were hunting when we overheard these men,” he gestured at Galt, Dale, and Beck, “speaking quite loudly about a raid they had conducted and the people they had killed.”  He paused at the murmurs from the crowd behind him which were quickly stilled by the mayor.  “As I did not want that to happen again we captured them and…”  

            “Ya killed one of my men!” Galt shouted out angrily.

            Appledore called for silence again, ordering Galt to be silent or he would be gagged and Bill laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.  The mayor gave Estel a questioning look.  “Is that true?”  

            “It is.  As we were tying them up one of Galt’s men attacked the boy who was tying them and we had no choice but to shoot him,” Estel met the mayor’s eyes steadily and Appledore nodded for him to continue.  Estel did not speak about the village as he saw no reason for them to know about where or how they lived.  “Will mentioned that some of the people might still be alive and he told us where he thought the raid had taken place and so a few of us rode to see if we could help.  We were too late,” he said softly.  Clearing his throat he briskly continued.  “There were two wagons and nine people… four adults and five children.  We buried them just off the road there,” he added in case any family members were in the room.  “The bandits had a couple of packhorses with various things they had stolen… though I do not believe everything is from this one raid.”  He turned to his men and they brought up the bundles of stolen things and began opening them and laying them out on the table in front of the council members.

            There were villagers in the front rows that were evidently friends or family members of the deceased and they cried out in recognition as a couple of pieces of jewelry were laid down.  Several bags of coins were also laid on the table and the council members looked up in surprise.  The hobbit, Tolman, spoke for the first time.  “You’re returning money?”  

            “It is not ours,” Estel said surprised that he would even be asked such a thing.  But then he realized that the villagers did not trust them even for something like that even though they were giving back all of the other things.  He sighed inwardly.  “There are also six horses in the stable and all of their tack as well.”  Tolman gave him a thoughtful nod and looked back at the mayor.

            “Well, I’ve heard and seen enough… do any of you have anything to say?” Appledore asked the bandits.

            “We didn’t do anything wrong!  We found those things,” Dale said trying to bluster his way out of it and the council members said nothing.

            Galt started cursing, first in common and then in the language that Estel knew was Dunlendish.  Evidently some of the people in the room knew what it was because there were gasps of outrage and Bill clapped his hand over the bandit’s mouth and immediately got bit.  He hauled off and hit Galt, knocking the chair over.  It landed on its side and Estel could hear Galt’s head hit the floor as he jumped back out of the way.  Between Bill’s blow and the hard landing his head took as it hit the floor, Galt was knocked unconscious.  With a satisfied smirk Bill none too gently set the chair back upright where Galt sat slumped over as the proceedings continued around him as if nothing had happened.

            “Do any of the rest of you have anything to say?” Appledore asked the last three bandits.  There was no response from either Beck or Kenrick and Will shook his head as he stared at the floor.

            Estel could see the young man trembling and decided this was probably the best time for him to speak up.  “I would like to speak for Will if I may,” he said quietly and the council members looked at him in surprise.

            “Ya’ve already said what needs to be said,” Clay said frowning and with growing distrust in his eyes.

            “Why do you need to speak for the boy?” Appledore asked with narrowed eyes.  “Let him speak for himself if he wants to.”  

            Estel looked at the other two members of the council to see if they had anything to say.  Edwin had not spoken a single word the whole time, but Estel had seen how he had paid close attention to everything that was said and how he seemed to listen most closely to Clay.  Tolman just shrugged and so Estel looked back to the mayor and Clay.

            “I would speak for Will because he is too frightened to speak for himself,” Estel glanced at the young man to see that he had looked up with a hopeful expression.  “I also would speak for him so that you could hear the truth about him… he should not be judged the same as the rest of the men here.”  

            “Why not?” Appledore asked sharply and Estel could see the question on the faces of every one of the other council member’s faces.

            “Because while Will made a horrible and foolish mistake by going with Galt and his men and he does deserve some punishment, he does not deserve to die for what he has done.  Or, rather what he has not done.  He did not kill anyone while he was with them…”  

            “But he was with ‘em while the others killed ‘em and did nothing to stop ‘em,” Clay broke in.

            Estel nodded and was going to continue when Edwin finally spoke.  “How do ya know he didn’t kill anyone, Ranger?”  

            Estel did not miss the sneer in the man’s voice but he ignored it.  “Kenrick told me last night…”

            “And ya believe him?  How do ya know he isn’t lying to protect his friend?”  

            “Because I have been around Will for two weeks now and he still has compassion which these other men do not.  He told me he only joined them because Galt said he would take care of him.  He had no food and no money and he could not get a job here in Bree.  That is the only reason he went with them and he did not know what they did.”  

            “Why didn’t ya go home, boy?” Clay asked the question directly to Will.

            “I-I was afraid…,” Will looked helplessly at Estel.  But Estel shook his head and motioned for Will to continue, he would not answer a question aimed at the young man.  “I-I didn’t w-want to let my father down,” he finished quietly.

            Clay and the other council members looked at Will in disbelief and shook their heads.

            “That is why…” Estel began but he was interrupted by Appledore.

            “I think we’ve heard enough to make our decision,” he said glancing at the others who nodded.  The four council members got up and left the Hall and the villagers in the back erupted into a frenzy of talking.

            Estel rejoined his Rangers sitting down between Nestad and Halbarad with a weary sigh.  “You did well, Captain,” Nestad said quietly.  “You gave him a chance at least.”

            “Clay doesn’t seem to like him,” Halbarad said, “but I can’t tell about the rest of them.”

            “Edwin seems to follow Clay,” Estel murmured as he leaned back against the wall and watched the people with hooded eyes. 

            The council was gone less than ten minutes when the door banged open and they returned to their places.  Their faces were stern and grave as they studied the five men sitting before them.  Mayor Appledore stood and addressed them one by one, even Galt who was barely conscious.  “Galt Thornapple, the Council of Bree sentences you to be hanged for the murder of nine people on the Great East Road some two weeks ago.  Dale Sundew, the Council of Bree sentences you to be hanged for the murder of the nine people on the Great East Road some two weeks ago.  Beck Nightshade, the Council of Bree sentences you to be hanged for the murder of the nine people on the Great East Road some two weeks ago.  Kenrick Hosta, the Council of Bree sentences you to be hanged for the murder of the nine people on the Great East Road some two weeks ago.”  There was a pause when he got to Will and Appledore turned to Tolman who stood.

            “Will, I know this is unusual but I have to ask this.  What did you do during the raids?”  

            “I-I held the horses and then I-I helped,” Will took a deep shuddering breath, “search for-for things to take.”  

            The hobbit closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at Will with eyes full of sorrow.  “Then you did help rob them?”  

            “Y-yes, sir, I did.” Will hung his head in shame and across the room Estel murmured, “Valar, no,” under his breath. 

            Tolman turned to Appledore and nodded once before sitting back in his chair with a grimace.

            Appledore then pronounced Will’s sentence.  “Will Larkspur, the Council of Bree sentences you to be hanged for the robbery of the nine people on the Great East Road some two weeks ago.  These sentences will be carried out within the hour… as soon as the scaffold is ready.”

            “It’s not a just sentence!” Halbarad exclaimed to no one in particular.

            Estel sat leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor as the people began leaving the room.  He had been so sure that if he explained the truth about Will the leaders of Bree would understand and would give him a more just punishment.  Estel knew that Will deserved to be punished, but he did not believe the young man deserved to die even if he had helped them rob the people.  While robbery could not be overlooked, Estel just wasn’t sure if he would equate what Will had done –given all of the circumstances – with someone who, say, had stolen a horse or broken into a house and robbed people.  He started when someone touched him lightly on the back and he looked up to see Nestad, his eyes full of compassion.

            “We should go, Captain,” he said quietly.

            Estel stood and joined his men.  “I will not leave yet, not until the sentences are carried out,” he said quietly but with determination.

            “Are you sure you want to watch, Captain?  It is not… I’ve seen men hanged before and it’s not… ” Faelon shook his head and looked away as he quietly finished.  “You don’t want to see it.”

            Estel stared at Faelon, surprised not so much by his words but by the way he was acting.  Faelon had been fighting the forces of darkness for over forty years and to see him react this way gave Estel pause.  He knew that watching a hanging would not be… easy, yet he felt he needed to watch it nonetheless.  “I am sure it will be difficult but I intend to be there.  Would you go and ready the horses, Faelon, so that we may leave as soon as it is over?”

            “I’ll stay with you, Captain,” he protested quietly.  “I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t.”

            “I know, but I want to leave quickly.  In fact, maybe Halbarad should help you.”  Estel gave his cousin a searching look but Halbarad was shaking his head.

            “I need to stay, Ar…Captain.  Just like you do,” he said quietly.

            Estel nodded once and turned back to Faelon.  He did not bother asking Nestad to go with Faelon, he knew without a doubt that the healer would not leave him and Halbarad.  “Please see to the horses and we will join you as soon as this is over.”  Faelon turned and left without another word.

            The three Rangers watched as the bandits were being taken from the Hall.  Beck and Kenrick did not resist as a couple of men led them from the room while Galt and Dale continued their fruitless struggles as they were dragged out.  Will did not struggle but his legs failed him and he had to be carried.  He cast a pleading look at the Rangers as he passed them, but they had already done all they could for him.

            They followed along as the bandits were taken down to the place near the North-gate where a rickety looking scaffold was set up.  Estel was thankful that it appeared not to have been used often, though he hoped it was sturdy enough to end the lives quickly and with as little pain as possible.  As they stood in the back of the crowd, Estel was shocked at the number of people that had come to watch the hangings.  Not only men were present, but women and even some children.  It grieved him that people would allow their children to watch such a thing.  He did notice that no hobbits were in the crowd, except for Tolman who probably had to be there as a member of the council.

            “Are you all right?” Nestad asked his eyes full of concern as his gaze shifted between the two young Rangers.  One may have been his Chieftain, but he was still a very young man and Nestad was concerned about the effect this was going to have on him.  It had been his decision to bring the bandits here and he could have chosen to leave Will behind at any point.  But he had placed his faith in the justice of Men and had had it shattered by the events of the day.  And, for both of them, watching a hanging was going to be a difficult thing.

            “I’m all right,” Halbarad replied, though he did not look at the healer as he was watching the crowd of villagers with his eyes full of both sorrow and thinly veiled contempt.

            Estel glanced at Nestad briefly and then away.  “I will be all right, Nestad.  I am grieved at the lack of justice in the Men here, though I should not…” his voice trailed off as he saw movement up on the scaffold.  He cringed and shook his head as Kenrick and Will were led up the steps.

            “At least Will is first,” Nestad murmured with a small sigh of relief.

            Estel and Halbarad looked at him questioningly.

            “He will not have to see what happens to the others… it is… better for him,” he explained.

            They did not wait for the other three bandits to be executed.  The three Rangers turned and left as soon as Kenrick and Will were dead.  The image of what had occurred would remain firmly implanted in their minds for the rest of their lives.  It was not just the hanging itself, which was simply horrifying to watch, but it was also the fact that some of the people actually cheered as the men died.  They did not speak as they walked back to the stable and they quickly mounted their horses, hearing more cheers from the crowd as they headed down the main village road in the late afternoon sunshine.

            Aragorn rode out through the South-gate of Bree.

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Author’s Note:  This was a difficult chapter to write even though I knew from the start it was going to happen.  There was really no other choice. During that time death would have been the punishment for Will just by him being there during the raids and being part of the group, etc. 

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

All conversation is assumed to be in Sindarin. Any conversation that is in italics is in Westron, the common tongue of Middle-earth.

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            Gilost knew by the expressions on the faces of the four Rangers as they rode into camp that Will had died and he shook his head sadly.  He was not really surprised, but he had hoped that the Men of Bree might be willing to give the young man a different sentence than the rest of the bandits.  Wondering if Aragorn had even had a chance to explain the circumstances that had led to Will being with the bandits he approached his Chieftain as he swung down off his horse.  But Aragorn spoke first.

            “Gilost, there are a couple of hours left before dark and I want to ride on before we settle for the night,” Aragorn said, his face shadowed and full of sorrow and disappointment.

            “Yes, Captain,” he replied hiding his surprise that they would move on so late in the day.  “I’m sorry,” he added as he turned to ready his pack and saddle his horse.  Nodding, Aragorn went to inform Daedaen and Remlas of his plans.

            The Rangers rode hard for an hour back east along the Great East Road before Faelon led them off the road just past the borders of the Chetwood.  Their route would take them north between the Chetwood and the Midgewater Marshes for about a week where they hoped to meet the patrol from Forntaur.  They would then turn east and ride through the Weather Hills to return to Faelon’s regular patrol area.

            Faelon led them only a short distance off the road before reining his horse to a halt and Aragorn drew alongside him and gave him a questioning look.  “Why are you stopping?  There is another hour before the sun sets.”

            “This is far enough, Captain,” he said quietly.  “There’s a spring here and… this is far enough,” he repeated a little more firmly.

            Aragorn thought better of the angry protest that was on his lips and simply bowed his head slightly before reining his horse around to speak to the others.  “We will stay here for the night,” he said quietly.  With little talk between them the men dismounted and began doing the routine tasks of setting up the camp for the night as directed by Aragorn.  Without the bandits to worry about it was much simpler and he assigned himself, Faelon, and Daedaen to care for the horses while the other men were left with preparing supper and scouting the area.

            The repetitive motion of brushing the horses was soothing to Aragorn and he spent extra time caring for them.  He tried not to think of the events of the day, but the harder he tried to push those thoughts aside the more they crept into his mind.  Eventually he gave up and allowed himself to think about all that had happened and what, if anything, he should have done differently.  But there were too many things that he could have done differently for him to decide which things should have been changed, or if, in fact, what had happened was the right thing after all, even if he did not agree with it.  Aragorn sighed deeply as he put away the brushes.

            When he was finished with the horses, Aragorn went to help Nestad prepare supper.  Not that he needed much help because besides the dried food they needed for their journey, Faelon had also bought loaves of fresh bread to go along with several chickens that were now roasting over the fire.  Aragorn sniffed appreciatively as he sat down next to the fire.

            “Do you need any help?”

            “No,” Nestad replied and it was quiet for a time except for the crackling of the fire and the sizzling of the cooking chicken.  The healer glanced at Aragorn from the corner of his eye to see his Chieftain staring into the orange flames with a blank expression.  “My lord,” he began quietly but Aragorn quickly interrupted him.

            “Not yet, Nestad.  I will speak with you about what happened today, but not yet,” he said glancing over at Nestad briefly.

            “Do not wait too long, Aragorn,” he cautioned softly.  “It will… “ Nestad shook his head and abruptly changed the subject.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had chicken,” he said.

            “Not since we were home,” Aragorn agreed glancing up at Faelon as he joined them, handing each of them their waterskins which he had filled at the spring.  The Ranger captain sat down with a long drawn out sigh.

            “How is your chest?” Aragorn asked as he suddenly remembered the incident in the stable yard earlier in the day.

            Faelon rubbed the spot on his chest briefly.  “It’s all right, Captain.  A little sore, but not really painful.”

            “I have a salve that will help ease it,” he offered. 

            Faelon shook his head and Aragorn shrugged and returned to staring into the fire obviously lost in his own thoughts once again.

            Nestad frowned as he looked across the fire at the two men.  Aragorn was usually much more persistent when someone was injured.  While Nestad knew that the kick Faelon had received had probably done him no real harm the Ranger could be eased by the salve Aragorn had suggested.  He was about to suggest that when Gilost and Halbarad returned from patrolling the area around the camp.  Daedaen, too, joined them as he dropped an armload of wood near the fire before sitting down.

            None of the men spoke as they silently watched the chicken roasting.  Darkness descended quickly on the early spring evening and soon only the sounds of the fire, the snorting and stamping of the horses, the chirping of crickets, and the rustle of small animals in the bushes surrounding them could be heard.  Across the camp from the fire, Remlas could be heard humming quietly as he moved about on watch.  But none of the men at the fire spoke to one another for quite some time until Gilost cautiously broke the silence.

            “Will someone tell us what happened?”

            Aragorn looked up with a slight frown.  He glanced at the other three men who had been in Bree that day and after a moment he gestured to Nestad.  “Would you mind telling them?  I do not wish to speak of it yet.”

            With a slight nod, Nestad began telling Gilost and Daedaen all that had happened in Bree.  He glanced up once at Remlas as he drifted closer to listen.  He kept the story short and gave just the basic facts but the three Rangers were saddened at what they heard; expressions of disbelief crossed their faces at various times throughout the telling of the tale.  None of them asked questions and as Nestad finished silence descended once again until it was broken by Faelon.

            “Is the chicken done?”

            “Yes, I think so,” Nestad poked at the chickens and smiled with satisfaction.  Removing them carefully from the stick across the fire he set the chickens down and cut them into pieces and set them on the wooden plates with bread and dried fruit he had prepared earlier and handed them around to the others. 

            “This is good, Nestad,” Faelon said after a few minutes as he wiped his greasy hands off on his leggings.  “It’s almost as good as the chicken Arthiell makes,” he commented, thinking longingly of his wife.

            “I’ve had her chicken and it’s much better than this,” Daedaen agreed.  He glanced at Nestad with a small smile on his lips relieved to speak of something normal.

            “It’s not as good as my naneth’s either,” Gilost said with a twinkle in his eye as he took another large bite of his chicken leg.

            “Nor mine,” Halbarad added glancing at Nestad and then nudging Aragorn with his elbow.

            Startled, Aragorn looked up from his supper and it took him a moment for the conversation he had been hearing but not really listening to, to sink in.  When it did, he looked around the circle before his gaze rested back on Nestad.  “This is wonderful,” he held up the chicken he was eating.  “But elven cooking is so… different than ours that it is hard to compare.  However,” a brief grin lightened his face, “I will say that Aunt Nimrie’s chicken does taste better.”

            Secretly pleased by the teasing comments, especially those by Aragorn and Halbarad, Nestad nevertheless scowled at the other men.  “I think we need to find someone else to do the cooking around here,” he declared.  “Perhaps you should do it Faelon since you were the first to mention that your wife’s cooking was better than mine.”

            “I only said that my wife’s chicken tasted a little better,” Faelon said mildly.  “I made no comment on any other food you have ever cooked.  Not that you’ve cooked very often,” he pointed out.

            Nestad snorted softly, “No, I haven’t, but then neither have you.  Perhaps you should cook tomorrow,” he said with a hint of challenge in his voice and a slight gleam in his eyes. 

            Faelon studied Nestad for a moment and he realized the ‘challenge’ was not about cooking, but was a way for the younger Rangers to take their minds off the events of the day.  He had been a Ranger captain for a long time and he recognized the look in Nestad’s eyes.  He gave the healer an almost imperceptible nod.

            “I’ll cook tomorrow,” he replied.  “Though, I think you’ve had the advantage since you had chicken to cook with tonight.”

            “Perhaps,” Nestad shrugged.  “But a real cook makes do with what ingredients he has.”  There were low chuckles from most of the other Rangers at his words.

            Finishing the last of his supper, Aragorn watched and listened to the banter between the two oldest Rangers with an impassive expression though he well knew what they were attempting to do.  He did appreciate their efforts on his behalf… and on behalf of Halbarad as well.  Aragorn glanced over at his cousin and saw that he appeared to be amused by Nestad and Faelon… and he probably was on some level.  But Halbarad’s eyes told a different story.  His eyes showed sadness and bewilderment with a touch of anger which Aragorn knew his own eyes probably showed. 

            When they drew twigs for the night watches, Aragorn was disappointed to draw one for the middle of the night as he knew he would not be able to sleep for some time anyway.  But he knew the value of resting his body whether he actually slept or not and he headed for the tent.  He was pulling back the tent flap when Nestad stopped him.

            “My lord, would you like to check Halbarad’s hand or should I do so?  I would not ask if he were not your cousin,” he explained.

            Aragorn’s eyes widened in dismay; he had completely forgotten about Halbarad’s injured hand.  He spun around to where his cousin had replaced Remlas on watch and hurried to his side leaving a somewhat bemused Nestad behind.  “Forgive me, Halbarad,” he apologized as he neared the spot where Halbarad was sitting on a large rock.

            “Of course,” he replied with a puzzled expression.  “What am I forgiving you for?”

            “I forgot to look at your hand.” Aragorn reached for Halbarad’s bandaged left hand, but his cousin pulled it back out of his reach.

            “It’s fine, Aragorn, you don’t need to look at it.  Nestad checked it this morning right after I hurt it, remember?”

            Aragorn frowned at Halbarad.  “I know he did, but that was hours ago and it should be looked at before you sleep tonight.”

            “But it doesn’t even bother me,” he protested with a hint of anger in his voice.  “Just leave it alone… just…” Halbarad stopped with a frustrated sigh and held out his hand to Aragorn.  “There’s nothing wrong with it, Aragorn, but you can check it anyway.”  He knew his cousin wouldn’t leave until he had satisfied himself that the hand wasn’t injured any further, just as he knew that his own frustration was really not about Aragorn but about the events of the day.

            Aragorn dropped down on the rock beside Halbarad, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair.  He stared at the ground for a moment before finally taking Halbarad’s hand and unwrapping the bandages.  The glow from the nearby fire gave off little light but it was enough for him to see that his cousin’s hand was slightly swollen and he sighed softly.

            “Perhaps I should have sent you home,” he commented as he began carefully and gently rotating Halbarad’s wrist and the three fingers that were not bound together.  He would check the broken finger last.

            “Send me home?  What do you mean?”

            Aragorn glanced up at the sharp tone in Halbarad’s voice.  “Peace, Halbarad.  I only meant that if I had sent you home with the other Rangers you would not have re-injured this today.”  He paused briefly.  “And, you would not have had to witness what happened,” he added softly as he began removing the cloth that bound Halbarad’s fingers together.

            “I don’t want you to protect me like that!” Halbarad hissed angrily.  “From either an injury or from seeing things like… like that,” he waved his uninjured hand in the general direction of Bree.  “I don’t need you to do that, Aragorn.”

            Aragorn continued to manipulate Halbarad’s fingers as if he had not heard a thing his cousin had said.  He looked up in concern when he heard a small noise from Halbarad as he gently pressed on the finger that had been broken.  The bones did not feel as if they had slipped out of place but that did not mean that they had not been broken earlier in the day and then pushed back into place.  “Is this truly not painful for you?  If it was re-broken this morning then it needs to be re-splinted, Halbarad.  I do not want you to lose use of your finger which you will if this does not heal properly.”

            Halbarad shook his head.  “It hurt when you pressed on it, but it’s not really painful otherwise, only sore.  I really don’t think I re-broke it.  I didn’t hear it pop or anything and there wasn’t a lot of pain at the time, Aragorn.  My hand is a little sore again,” he admitted, “and Nestad thought I probably re-sprained it.  But it’s not as bad as last time.”

            “I will be right back,” Aragorn said as he went to retrieve his pack of healing supplies.  Halbarad frowned as his cousin walked away and he wondered why Aragorn had not responded to his comments earlier.  He had a feeling that the conversation was not finished only delayed until Aragorn was done tending to his hand.

            “Halbarad,” Aragorn called quietly and Halbarad looked up to see his cousin beckoning him to come to the fire.

            “I’m supposed to be on watch,” he said as he sat down with a yawn.

            “I know and I am supposed to be sleeping,” Aragorn retorted quietly, mindful of the sleeping men in the tents.  “Not that I would be able to,” he added as he poured hot water from the pot setting near the fire into a bowl.  He crumbled several leaves of athelas, blew on them and added them to the hot water before handing the bowl to Halbarad.  “Hold this close to your face for a moment and inhale the steam, it will refresh you.”  Aragorn took a deep breath of the steam himself before he let go of the bowl and he felt some of his tension ease.  Taking a clean cloth he dipped it into the water and gently washed Halbarad’s hand.  “This will help it heal more quickly.”  He then carefully re-bound the two fingers together glancing up at Halbarad occasionally for any signs of distress as he did so.  But his cousin kept his eyes closed and seemed to be lost in enjoying the steam from the athelas.  Finally, Aragorn wrapped Halbarad’s whole hand with a light bandage, more to remind Halbarad that it was sprained than anything else.

            Aragorn packed away his healing supplies before sitting down at the fire.  He added a couple of small logs to the fire and sat quietly for a time poking at it with a long stick glancing at Halbarad occasionally from the corner of his eye.  His voice was calm when he finally spoke.  “While I suppose I did mean to protect you when I said I should have sent you home after you injured your hand, I am not really sure what I meant when I said I wished you did not have to witness what happened today.”  He frowned, drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms around them.  “I wish I had not had to experience it so I guess I wished the same for you… perhaps that is a way of protecting you,” he shrugged.  “If so, then forgive me.  I think we have had a similar conversation in the past,” Aragorn said with a very brief smile.

            “We have,” Halbarad acknowledged as he finally opened his eyes and looked at Aragorn.  “I wish that we hadn’t been there today either and, yet you know it’s something we would’ve had to see sometime so I guess now’s as good as time as any.”  He didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself.

            “Which part?  The injustice of Men or the hanging?” Aragorn was surprised at how bitter he sounded and he shook his head in irritation.

            “Both, I think.”  Halbarad rubbed his eyes wearily.  “I don’t understand them… the people in the village, I mean.”  He furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment.  “And it’s not just the injustice, but the way they acted at the hanging… cheering and bringing children.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “And, the way they treated us.  We’re just men and yet they felt nothing but scorn for us and they were afraid of us… of me!”

            “But you’re not ‘just’ a man, Halbarad; you’re a Ranger… a Dúnedain… a descendant of kings.”

            Aragorn and Halbarad both jumped, startled, as Nestad’s soft voice suddenly came out of the darkness behind them.

            “I thought you were on watch, Halbarad,” the healer said, as he settled down next to them at the fire.  “It’s a good thing I’m not an orc,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice.

            “An orc would make more noise,” Halbarad retorted crossly, embarrassed at being caught off guard.  He started to get to his feet when Nestad laid a hand on his arm.

            “Stay.”

            “I thought you were sleeping,” Aragorn said with an eyebrow raised in question.

            “I was trying to but I found myself wide awake and thinking of the day and when I heard your voices I thought I’d join you.”

            “Hmmm,” was all Aragorn said in response, well aware of why Nestad had joined them.  But he found that the prospect of speaking with the older man did not bother him as much as it had earlier.  He had come to rely on Nestad’s counsel and wisdom and thought that perhaps he could give him some understanding that he could not find on his own.

            Nestad turned back to Halbarad.  “The people of the Bree-lands are frightened of us because we’re different,” he began quietly as he pulled out his pipe.  “We come into their villages only occasionally and stay for a short time speaking to only a very few people.  We dress differently,” he paused and lit his pipe.  “Did you notice how much taller you were than the people there?” he asked and Halbarad nodded.  “That alone would frighten many people.  They know not how we live or if we have families,” Nestad smiled, “though I suppose they must assume we have wives and children since we keep showing up.”  Aragorn and Halbarad chuckled.  “But,” he sighed deeply, “most of us are frightened of those that are different than themselves and the people of Bree are no different.”

            “But we… the Rangers… have never hurt any of them,” Halbarad pointed out.

            “No, we haven’t, but we might so it’s easier to just keep away from us.  Unless we want to buy something,” he added with a wry smile.

            Aragorn simply listened as Halbarad and Nestad spoke of the fear of the people in Bree.  While that had saddened him, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling at the injustice in the sentencing of Will.  He looked up in surprise when Nestad suddenly asked him a question that had nothing to do with the conversation he was having with Halbarad.

            “What sentence would you have given to Will, my lord?” 

            Dropping his gaze back to the fire and poking at the burning logs with his stick, Aragorn took his time as he considered his answer.  He had thought of it several times, both before today and then after Will was sentenced.  “I would have sentenced him to a time of servitude for the people of Bree, I think,” he said after a moment.  “Though I am not sure for how long or what he might do for the people.”  He shrugged and looked up at Nestad who nodded thoughtfully as he puffed on his pipe.

            “I see,” Nestad said, making no comment on whether he thought that was a just punishment or not.  “And how would you have sentenced him if we had not brought him to Bree?  If we had stayed in Dolomar and dealt with all of them there?”  His voice was quiet but his gaze was piercing as he studied Aragorn.

            Aragorn opened his mouth to say that he would have sentenced Will exactly the same when he stopped himself as he realized that was not true.  He glanced at Halbarad when his cousin spoke up.

            “You would have sentenced him the same, wouldn’t you?” he asked, his gaze becoming uncertain at the look on Aragorn’s face.

            “No, I would not have,” Aragorn said shaking his head.  “That is why Nestad brought it up.  I did not know Will when we were still in Dolomar and I would have sentenced all of them the same… I would have sentenced them all to death.”  He paused briefly as he thought.  “It was only because I got to know him a little bit that I felt compassion for him.”  Aragorn gave Nestad a rueful smile that was returned.

            “You were also angry… we all were,” the healer sighed heavily.  “And we were right to be so, but it is hard to judge someone justly when you are angry.”  Aragorn gave a slow and thoughtful nod.

            “But, if you had talked to Will wouldn’t you have found out about these things?  Why he was with Galt and the others?” Halbarad asked.

            “Do you remember what he was like that day?  He could barely look at any of us let alone speak, just like he could not speak to the men today.  Even then I doubt that I would have sentenced him differently.”  Aragorn frowned and got to his feet and began slowly pacing back and forth along the edge of the fire as he thought, the stick dangling loosely from his hand.  “I am not sure I would even have questioned him or the others very closely,” he admitted.  “We knew what they had done, there would have been no reason to do so.”

            “So, does it really surprise you that the men of Bree would sentence them any differently?” Nestad asked quietly.  “We told them what they had done and they took us at our word.”

            Halbarad snorted with disdain.  “They believed part of what we said.  They just didn’t believe that Will didn’t kill anyone.”

            “Yes, they did,” Aragorn replied as he continued his pacing.  “That is why the hobbit asked him about robbing the people.  They just decided that that was enough to sentence him to death.  They did not think that the other things I told them were that important.”

            Nestad hesitated as he watched his lord pace back and forth.  He knew Aragorn was not going to like what he had to say, nor would Halbarad, he realized as he glanced at the young man who was also watching Aragorn pace.  Finally, he spoke.  “Aragorn, you will not like what I’m going to say but I’m going to say it nonetheless.”  Aragorn stopped and looked at the healer questioningly.  “You know that I liked Will and I do think that if he had received a different sentence then he would have learned from his mistakes and would never have done anything like that again.”  Nestad paused.

            “But?” Aragorn prompted him.

            “But his death was the result of his own choices and we can’t blame the Men… the leaders of Bree for that.  It was Will’s own choices that led to his death,” he repeated firmly.

            “But he didn’t know who Galt was,” Halbarad protested.

            Nestad didn’t answer beyond a quick nod as he kept his eyes fixed on Aragorn who was studying the ground intently.  He resumed his pacing, idly slapping the stick against his leg as he moved back and forth.  Aragorn kept his eyes on the ground and his voice was low when he finally spoke.  “Will did not know who Galt was when he left Bree, Halbarad, but he had to have known within a day or two that he and the others were not honest men.  I know we saw Galt at his worst, but I doubt that even on his best days he could hide who he truly was and what he was like.”  Aragorn stopped and looked up then and met the gazes of both Halbarad and Nestad.  “Will should have left then,” he said softly.  “There had to have been opportunities for him to leave them and he chose not to do so.”  He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration. 

           “Nestad is right,” Aragorn said giving Halbarad a grim look, “We cannot blame the leaders in Bree for not doing what we thought was the right thing, not when it was Will’s choices that brought him to this end.  Not when I would have sentenced him the same way,” he added quietly, “At least, if I had not known him somewhat.”  He paused and stared at the ground.  “And, perhaps, I would have been wrong to do so… “ he shook his head and resumed his pacing.

            “Wrong to do what?” Nestad asked, knowing exactly what Aragorn meant but seeing confusion in Halbarad’s eyes.

            Aragorn glanced at him, “Perhaps I would have been wrong not to have sentenced him to death since he made the choices he did knowing exactly what he was doing.”

            “Perhaps,” Nestad said with a small shrug as he re-filled his pipe and lit it with a small twig from the fire.

            Aragorn frowned at Nestad.  “If Will robbed the people and made the choice to be with Galt and the others knowing full well what he was doing, then he deserved to die.”

            “Yes, he did,” Nestad acknowledged.  “But, I do believe that there are times when a judge may have mercy on those that come before him to be tried for their misdeeds.  I believe that Will deserved mercy even with the very poor choices he made.  Knowing him like we do I imagine he was too frightened to leave those men once he had joined them.  They may have threatened him,” Nestad shrugged and puffed on his pipe thoughtfully as he looked up at Aragorn.  “I don’t know.  These things are never simple or easy to decide.  At least they shouldn’t be,” he finished.

            Aragorn stared at the healer and then snorted with amusement.  “You make an interesting counselor, Nestad.  You first suggest that Will should be sentenced to death because he made poor choices and knew what he was doing.  But now you say that he should have been given mercy!”  He shook his head.

            “A counselor is only there to help his lord see all sides of something,” Nestad replied quietly.  “It is not up to him to make the decisions, my lord.”

            “No, it is not,” Aragorn agreed as he resumed his pacing, once again slapping the stick against his leg as he thought.  He glanced over at Halbarad briefly as his cousin added a couple of logs to the fire and sparks flew upward into the darkness.  “Well,” he said after a time, “I am glad this is not something that I will have to deal with often.  At least I hope not,” he added with a grim smile as he thought of the long years stretching ahead of him and the possibility of other bandits that he might have to deal with during his lifetime.

            “Unless you become king,” Halbarad said with a brief grin. 

           Nestad looked startled and then thoughtful at Halbarad’s comment, realizing this was something the two young men had talked about at some point in the past.

            Aragorn shook his head, frowning, “I am going to bed now, Cousin.”  He turned his gaze to Nestad.  “Thank you once again, Nestad.  Good-night.”  Nestad simply nodded as Aragorn walked off to the tent.

0-0-0-0

            The ride north was quiet.  Not only were there no signs of orcs or wolves or other creatures of darkness, but the Rangers themselves were subdued the first few days after leaving Bree.  It was not until several days had passed and Aragorn was on watch one night that he realized that it was Halbarad and himself that were most affected by the events in Bree.  It was not that the other Rangers did not care what had happened to Will, it was just that they were older and were more accustomed to dealing with Men like those in Bree.  Not long after Aragorn had come to that conclusion he also realized that his introspective mood was affecting the others.  They were subdued because he was quieter than normal… not that he ever spoke much, but even for him he was quiet as he pondered all that happened and the things he, Halbarad, and Nestad had discussed. 

           It took Aragorn longer to figure out what the problem was with the light banter between Nestad and Faelon that they continued to engage in every evening around the fire.  He finally realized that it was only in the last few days that Faelon had ever exchanged in light banter with anyone.  Aragorn knew that Faelon was doing it for the sake of the men, mostly to relieve the strain that he was unintentionally putting them under. 

           Shaking his head, annoyed at himself, Aragorn stood up from the log where he had been sitting and began circling the camp once again, not straying too far out of the glow from the fire.  As he listened intently for any sound that was out of the ordinary, Aragorn decided that he needed, as much as was possible, to put the whole incident at Bree behind him.  He knew it was something that he would remember for the rest of his life, just as he knew that he had learned much about Men and about himself during the days he had spent with the bandits and then in Bree.  But he could not let it effect what he was doing here and now, nor could he let it effect his men.  It sobered him to see how his men were responding to the way he was acting, Aragorn had not realized he had quite that much influence over them.  Sighing, he leaned against a tree as he thought.  Elrond had never mentioned anything about this.  Although, Aragorn thought with an inward smile, he supposed that it was not something that ever came up with elves.  Glancing up at the star-filled sky he saw, from Eärendil’s travel across the sky, that it was time to wake Daedaen for his watch and he went to wake him and to seek his own rest.

0-0-0

            As the Rangers neared the area where they expected to find the patrol from Forntaur, Aragorn was pleased to note that his men were almost back to normal.  There were again small jests between all of the men occasionally except for Faelon who had ceased his bantering as soon as he saw that Aragorn had come out of the introspective mood he had been in.  That he had been willing to do something so against his nature for the good of the men impressed Aragorn and it was not something he would forget.

            Huddling around the small fire one chilly evening, Aragorn asked Faelon about the Rangers they were meeting.  “Do you know any of these men well?” he asked, shivering.

            Faelon glanced up at him from where he was trying to light his pipe and shrugged.  When his pipe was finally lit he answered the question.  “I know the patrol leader, Tathor, a little from working together here, but I don’t know him well.  It’s the same with the men, I used to know several of them quite well but they’ve all gone to different patrols.”

            Nestad looked up at that.  “Is Baranor part of the patrol?”

            Faelon thought for a moment and then glanced over at Daedaen who shook his head.  “I don’t think so, I don’t remember that name.  Who is he?”

            “My son-in-law.  It would be nice to see him, it’s been many, many years,” Nestad replied with a wistful smile.  Aragorn reached over and squeezed his shoulder briefly.

            “There is someone in the patrol that Gilost knows, though,” Faelon said as he looked over at the Ranger who was wrapped up in both his cloak and his blanket against the cold.

            “Is Norgalad there?” he asked with a grin.  “I thought he was still stationed down South.  It will be good to see him and Gaerwen will be glad to hear news of him when I get home.”

            “Gaerwen is betrothed to Norgalad,” Halbarad leaned over and whispered to Aragorn who blinked in surprise.  For some reason he had not thought that the quiet girl was old enough to be getting married but he remembered that she was some years older than Halbarad.  Gilost certainly seemed pleased about it.  As Aragorn looked at his friend he realized that Gilost was also of an age to be married and he wondered if there was a young lady who was special to him.  It was something they had never spoken of.  Not that Aragorn really wanted to speak of such things because it always brought up such intense longings for Arwen, but he would like to know about Gilost.  Well, if he ever had the chance he would speak of it with Gilost.

            All of their heads snapped up as Remlas hurried back into camp from his latest survey of the area.  He crouched down next to Aragorn.  “Captain, there is something out there that is not right… I sense it more than see or hear anything,” Remlas bit his lip nervously as he waited for Aragorn to respond. 

            “Where?” Aragorn asked tersely, getting gracefully to his feet and peering into the darkness in the direction Remlas had come.  The other Rangers also stood and drifted back away from the fire with their hands on their swords.

            Remlas pointed behind him, “There and also around to the east.”

            Aragorn frowned as he pulled Remlas back into the shadows with him.  They had set up camp in the best place they could find.  This far north there were very few trees; the land was covered with rocks and low bushes.  Their camp was located up against a small jumble of rocks but there was little else in the way of protection for them.  The brush would not provide much cover should they go to find what was out there – and they had to find out if orcs or wolves were stalking them.

            “Gilost, Faelon,” Aragorn hesitated and then whispered for Halbarad to come as well.  Halbarad’s fingers had finally been unbound the day before and Aragorn knew how well his cousin moved in the wild whereas he was less certain of the other men, especially Remlas.  Soundlessly, the three men appeared behind him.  “We must see what is out there.  Faelon, take Gilost and head to the left of camp.  Halbarad, you come with me.  Remlas, stay here with the others.”  Aragorn drew his sword wishing that he had not set his bow aside earlier, but it was too late to retrieve it now.  With a nod at Halbarad, he led the way into the bushes crouching down to take advantage of what little cover there was.  Ten or so yards away from the camp Aragorn and Halbarad paused, both to let their eyes adjust to the utter darkness that blanketed the land away from their small fire and to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

            After a moment, Aragorn touched Halbarad on the arm and they moved on, slowly threading their way through the brush.  They froze at a faint sound off to their right.  It was not a natural sound; it sounded like metal striking something.  Aragorn and Halbarad exchanged grim looks at the thought of fighting orcs again.  But, Aragorn suddenly realized that orcs would not be so quiet.  If it was not orcs then it was men and the only men this far North were… Rangers.  He sighed inwardly.  Still, if this was Tathor’s patrol they were quite a bit south of their area and he supposed they could be bandits; he shuddered at dealing with more of them so soon.  He leaned over and spoke into Halbarad’s ear.

            “I think it may be Tathor’s patrol.”

            Halbarad pulled away from Aragorn, surprised.  He looked back toward the area where the sound had come from and then back at Aragorn and gave a nod.  “Should I give a Ranger call?” he whispered into Aragorn’s ear who indicated his agreement.  Halbarad’s low bird whistle sounded loud in the stillness of the night.  After he gave the call, they moved away so that if it was not Tathor’s patrol the orcs or whoever it was would not be able to immediately find them.  It seemed like a long time, but was probably less than a minute when an answering call came from the area they were watching.  A moment later there were answering calls from behind them and to their left and Aragorn assumed it was where Faelon and Gilost were.

            Aragorn and Halbarad stood up cautiously and could just make out the faint outline of two men a short distance away.  “Who are you?” he called.  “Are you from Forntaur?”

            “Yes,” a low voice growled back at them.  “Who are you and where are you from?” The figures stepped a little closer as if to see more clearly.

            Aragorn gave Halbarad an amused look knowing the man would likely be embarrassed when he discovered whom he had been speaking with.  “We are from Dolomar and are part of Faelon’s patrol,” he replied as he began walking towards them, keeping a tight grip on his sheathed sword just in case.  Aragorn listened closely to the murmur of voices in the distance behind him.  He could not make out what anyone was saying, but it sounded friendly enough.  Drawing near to the other two men Aragorn relaxed as he could see how tall they were and how they were dressed and he knew they were, in fact, Rangers.

            “Well met,” Aragorn greeted the two men as they came together.  “Come to our fire, it is too cold to stand out here and talk.”  Now that the adrenaline was wearing down the cold and wind was making its presence felt and Aragorn wrapped his cloak more tightly about himself.  “Do you have horses somewhere close by?”

            The older man was eyeing Aragorn suspiciously and he finally gave a curt nod.  “Yes, one of my men stayed with them.  I’ll send Norgalad back to get them.  I’m Tathor,” he looked at Aragorn with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

            “This is Halbarad son of Halhigal and I am Aragorn son of Arathorn.  Come.”  Aragorn turned immediately to head back to camp, ignoring the shocked look on Tathor’s face.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

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Chapter 22

           Daedaen and Nestad had built the fire back up by the time Aragorn and Halbarad returned with Tathor.  The rest of the Rangers arrived not long after them and, as horses were settled, the men gathered around the fire, grateful for its heat on the cold March night.  Aragorn was content to listen and observe the five new men, all of whom had been startled and, then, pleased to meet him there unexpectedly.  He found himself watching two men closely, Tathor and Norgalad.  Norgalad appeared to be a quiet, thoughtful man in his late thirties and Aragorn found himself wondering how he and Gaerwen had met.  It was something he would have to ask Gilost or Halbarad.

            Aragorn observed the patrol leader, Tathor, to try and gain a sense of the man.  He had been, as Aragorn had known he would be, somewhat embarrassed by his greeting earlier, but had seemed to relax slightly at his Chieftain’s reassurances.  Aragorn knew a bit about him; he and Halhigal had spent time talking about each of the patrol leaders so he knew that Tathor in his sixties, was married to a lady named Lalaith, had two daughters, and his father and brother served on patrols down near Sarn Ford.  He listened closely as Faelon asked Tathor the question he himself had been wondering about.

            “Why are you this far south?  I didn’t expect to find you for at least another day, if not more.”

            “Wolves,” he answered shortly with a grimace of distaste.  “We’d been tracking a pack for a few days and finally caught them this morning.  It’s been a harsh winter and they were scraggly looking beasts.  I don’t know where they were headed, but they were headed south in a hurry.”

            “How many were there?” Aragorn asked, frowning.

            “Fourteen.”

             “Were any of your men injured?” Nestad asked with his own frown knitting his brow.  He knew, depending on the situation of the encounter, that even fourteen of the large animals could be a lot for five men to handle.

            Tathor shrugged, “A few scratches,” he said dismissively.  “One of my men saw to the wounds.”  He gestured in the direction of one of the Rangers who ducked his head in embarrassment when he saw his Chieftain and the other men looking at him.

            “He appears young,” Aragorn said quietly and with concern on seeing the man’s reaction.  “Is he well trained?  Wolf claws are filthy and can cause serious infections.”  Nestad nodded his agreement.

            “He’s trained well enough; he’s been our healer for several years and no one’s died yet,” he shrugged again.

            “I see,” Aragorn exchanged a glance with Nestad, uncertain if he ought to offer to look at the wounds or not.  The injuries did not sound particularly serious and he had seen no evidence of bandages so the men must be wearing their gloves over any wounds on their hands, and if any had injuries to their arms or legs they were hidden under the cloaks they wore.  Tathor seemed unconcerned, but the Ranger who was their healer did seem awfully young.  Nestad’s expression was unreadable and Aragorn finally decided that he would at least check the skills of the healer by looking at the care he had given to the men.  “Nestad and I have some skill in healing, Tathor, and with the permission of your healer,” Aragorn looked across the fire at the man who nodded shyly, “I would like to check the wounds in the morning.”

           Tathor nodded and Aragorn decided he would also take the opportunity to speak with the young Ranger about the amount of training he had had in the healing arts.  It was something that he still needed to find out about… how much training the healers of each village received and also the men that served as healers for the Rangers.  He had pushed that to the back of his mind as so many other things had taken its place in the months since he had rejoined his people.  But it was something that he wanted to find out about and he would start by asking this young man.  Aragorn glanced around the fire and his gaze fell on Norgalad. 

           “I hear you are betrothed to Gaerwen, Norgalad.  I wish you much joy,” Aragorn said warmly. 

           “Thank you, my lord,” Norgalad inclined his head after giving his lord a brief, though bright smile.  He hesitated before asking, “My lord, would you be willing to hear our vows?  I’m sure it would please Gaerwen as much as it would me.”

           “She’d like that,” Gilost agreed.

           Aragorn looked uncertain and then nodded slowly knowing that it was one of the responsibilities he had as lord of his people.  “I would be honored to do that for you.  But, you should know that I have never even seen a wedding before,” he confessed, almost embarrassed.

           “Never?” It was one of the Rangers from Tathor’s patrol who asked.

           “No.  There have been none since I returned to our people and there were certainly none among the elves in Imladris as I grew up.”  Aragorn looked back at Norgalad.  “But, I know that my uncle, or someone,” he glanced at Nestad, “will explain what I need to do.  Where do you intend to get married?  In Dolomar or Forntaur?”  Aragorn did not even know if it was traditional for his people to get married in the village of the bride or the groom.  He had never thought to ask.

           “In Dolomar, my lord.  I’ve decided to move there.  My naneth died last year and there is nothing to keep me in Forntaur.  I don’t want Gaerwen to be without some close kin around her when I’m away.”

           “When will the wedding take place?”

           “We hoped to marry about the middle of May, but we know that it might not be possible.”

           Aragorn read the longing in Norgalad’s eyes and sighed inwardly, pushing the thoughts of Arwen away that the look had awakened.  “We should be back in Dolomar by the first week in May,” he glanced over at Faelon who nodded.  “If you arrive around that time I will hear you and Gaerwen exchange your vows,” he promised with a brief smile.  “Do not travel alone, though,” he cautioned him strongly.  “There have been too many orcs prowling our lands for it to be safe for one man to travel alone.”  At Norgalad’s and the other Rangers’ questioning looks, Aragorn and his men told them of all that had happened in the last few months.

0-0-0-0-0

            Aragorn had the last watch.  He pulled his hood closer around his head and wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself as he kept moving against the cold that had deepened during the night.  He supposed he should be grateful that there was no snow but knew that snow was rare even this far north in the middle of March.  As he kept a wary eye out for danger he pondered what he should do with the two groups of Rangers – whether to continue on as he had planned or for his group to join Tathor’s patrol and seek out any other packs of wolves that might linger in the area.  They had discussed it briefly last night, but no decision had been made.

            As the stars faded above him and the faintest pink lightened the sky to the east, Aragorn stirred up the fire and set a couple of pots of water close to the flames.  The men would be waking soon and hot tea would be welcomed by all.  Gazing east towards the Weather Hills, Aragorn could barely make out the faintest outline of the hills, a dark black against the lightening sky.  Faelon’s normal patrol area was just on the other side of those hills and he had been gone now for almost four weeks.  While it was true that they had killed a large number of orcs that had prowled in that area, there was no telling what other servants of the enemy might be stirring there.  Perhaps wolves were also gathering on the east side of the hills.  Aragorn knew they would have to leave Tathor and his men to deal with their own area while he continued on.  He glanced towards the tents as Halbarad slipped outside and hurried to the fire pulling the hood of his cloak up as he moved.

            “Good morning,” Aragorn greeted him quietly.

            Halbarad grunted sleepily in response, rubbing at his eyes as he crouched down beside the fire.

            Aragorn’s lips twitched as he joined his cousin and set about making them tea.  He did not speak until the tea was ready and he handed a mug to Halbarad.  “Here.”  Halbarad looked up in surprise from where he had been staring sightlessly into the fire and took the mug with a sheepish smile.

            “Thanks.”

            They sat quietly for a time sipping on the hot tea and enjoying the peaceful – if cold – morning.  There were a few birds singing, but the only other noise came from the horses and the faint noises of the sleeping men.

            “Have you decided what we’re going to do?” Halbarad asked after a time.

            “Go on as we had planned.  There may be wolves or other dangers in that area that we do not know about.”  Aragorn shrugged.  “Tathor and his men will have to deal with whatever is in this area by themselves - just as they would have if we had never shown up.” 

            “At least there will be some trees in the hills,” Halbarad muttered.

            Aragorn nodded, “I do not like this mostly bare rocky area either… it is not like home.”  He smiled briefly, “Not like either of my homes.”

            Halbarad chuckled.  “From what you’ve told me of Imladris I don’t think it’s much like this.  Perhaps I’ll see it someday.”

            “Hopefully I will have a reason to take you with me sometime.  I would like you to see it.  To see where I grew up and to meet my family… the rest of my family,” Aragorn corrected himself and Halbarad smiled.

            “I remember your mother, but not very well.”

            “I hope she is doing well without me there,” Aragorn furrowed his brow as he thought of his mother alone amongst the elves in Imladris. 

            “Why would she not?” Halbarad asked confused by Aragorn’s worried expression.  “You told me the elves are kind and…”

            Aragorn quickly interrupted him.  “Of course they are.  It is just that it might be hard to be the only mortal there even if she has lived there for such a long time.  Elves see things so differently than mortals, Halbarad, and sometimes it was hard for my naneth.”

            “Wasn’t it hard for you?”

            Aragorn stared at the hard rocky ground for a moment and then looked up and met Halbarad’s gaze intently.  “It was different for me,” he said softly.  “I was raised there and so even though I am mortal, I see things differently than most mortals, I think.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “Now that I am with my people, I can see things like the elves and I am learning to see things as the Dúnedain see them.”  He gave a rueful smile, “It is rather strange at times…” Aragorn paused, putting his hand to the hilt of his sword as he quickly arose peering into the distance. 

           Halbarad quickly followed his lead having heard some distant sound, though he could not tell what it was. He saw that the horses were looking off to the north as well - their ears twitching forward and back as if they, too, were trying to listen to something.

           “Get the men up quickly,” Aragorn ordered urgently in a low voice and Halbarad turned without question to wake them.  He darted between the tents poking his head into each one and rousing the men with a low whispered call.  By the time he returned to Aragorn, who had moved out to the edge of the camp and now had his bow strung and an arrow nocked, men from the first tent were already joining them.

            “What is it, Captain?” Faelon asked as hurried to his Chieftain’s side stringing his bow as he ran.  He had immediately seen the horses, but could not yet tell what Aragorn had seen or heard.

            “I heard the distant howl of a wolf a few minutes ago, but nothing since,” Aragorn replied with a frown and a sidelong glance at Faelon.  “If it were not for the horses, I would think I had imagined it.”  He turned slightly as Tathor joined them and he realized that besides Faelon’s men, whom he had taken command of at some point in the last few weeks without even being particularly conscious of it, he also now had Tathor and his men. 

            “Were you only tracking a single pack of wolves?”

            Tathor gave him a single abrupt nod, “There was no sign of any other packs and no wolves left the pack we were tracking.  We followed that trail closely and no wolf broke away.”

            The horses were starting to move restlessly and pull at their ropes.  “Send a couple of your men to watch the horses,” Aragorn directed Tathor.  Hesitating only briefly, Tathor went to speak to his men. Aragorn hoped that would be enough men to guard the horses as they could not afford to lose any of them, but until he knew how many wolves were out there he could not spare any more than two men.  He quickly turned back to Faelon.

            “I have never fought wolves before.  What would you suggest?” 

            “I’d set the men around the camp in a loose circle with the horses in the middle.  If they’re bold enough to attack a camp of men, there are either a lot of them or they’re starving.  Having fires may help ward them off, though we do not have much to burn.”

            Tathor had returned and was rocking on his heels slightly and looking impatient.  Aragorn turned his gaze on him.  “Yes?”

            “My lord, I do think that my men might… serve you better were they to fight instead of holding the horses.  Perhaps some of the younger men,” his eyes strayed to Halbarad who was standing next to Faelon, “might watch the horses instead.”

            Aragorn replied softly, although his jaw was set and his gaze was stern.  “Everyone here is a Ranger, Tathor, and should be able to serve in whatever capacity is given him.”  A slight frown crossed Tathor’s face before he gave a slight nod.

            Turning quickly to the defense of their camp, Aragorn set the ten Rangers around the horses in a circle taking advantage of the rocks whenever possible and keeping the men as close together as he could.  Small fires were kindled with what little wood and dead branches from the bushes were available but it would not last long.  Then they waited to see what the wolves would do. 

           Aragorn kept one eye on the horses even as he scanned the area surrounding the camp.  The bushes and rocks would make it difficult to see the wolves until they were almost upon them, but the horses would be able to smell them drawing near and would react accordingly.  A few short howls came one after the other… from different sides of the camp and the already nervous horses began to snort in fear.  The howls had obviously been a signal of some kind and the Rangers tightened their grips on bows and swords.  Aragorn had set his bow aside and gone to his sword, feeling more comfortable with it in the rocks and bushes that surrounded him.

            When the attack came, Aragorn was surprised at the swiftness of the wolves as one large, raggedy looking beast darted out of the bushes.  It was headed for an opening in the rocks between where he and Gilost were crouched and Aragorn got to the animal first.  The wolf lunged towards him snarling and snapping at him with long razor sharp teeth and Aragorn had to dance back and to the side to escape.  Recovering swiftly, Aragorn jabbed at the wolf with his sword and opened a large gash on the wolf’s shoulder.  Yelping in the pain the wolf turned back towards him with an angry growl and it seemed to Aragorn he could almost read the fierce hatred in the animal’s eyes, and he reminded himself that this was not an ordinary animal, but a creature of darkness.  He was aware that another wolf had slunk out of the bushes and that Gilost was fighting it, but he kept his focus on the wolf as he sprang at him again.  Without hesitation, Aragorn stepped to the side once again but this time he turned as the wolf flew past him and he brought the flat side of his sword down hard on the neck of the animal, breaking it and killing it instantly.  It fell to the ground with a heavy thud and Aragorn looked at Gilost to see if he needed help but the wolf he had been fighting was already dead. 

            It was quiet in the camp and Aragorn looked at Gilost in surprise.  “That is all of them?”

            Gilost slowly nodded.  “They would not hold any back in reserve,” he said with a faint smile.  He looked at the two dead wolves on the ground and nudged the one he had killed with his boot.  “These animals are starving.”

            “So it appears.  It has been a hard winter, but…” his voice trailed off and he took a deep breath to try and still his racing heart.  He had been prepared for a longer, more difficult battle and it would take him a moment to calm.  “Stay here,” he directed as he walked to the middle of the camp.  “Is anyone hurt?” he called out.  There were various negative responses from most of the men, though Remlas had been bitten and Aragorn beckoned him in along with Faelon, Tathor, and Nestad.  He left the rest of the men on alert in the event other wolves might still be in the area, though he did not think that any were left.

            “How many did we kill?” Aragorn asked the other men as he sat Remlas down by the fire and began examining his arm.

            Faelon and Tathor took a quick look around.  “I see eight, Captain,” Tathor replied as he returned.

            Aragorn shook his head but did not look up from what he was doing.  The wolf had bitten deeply into Remlas’s right forearm before one of the other Rangers had been able to kill it.  The skin was ripped open on both the top and the underside of his arm from where the wolf’s teeth had clamped onto his arm during their furious struggle. 

            “Here,” Nestad handed Remlas a mug of willow bark tea to help with the pain and he gulped it down, grimacing at the bitter taste.  Nestad looked to Aragorn and said quietly.  “I have hot water ready, my lord.”

            “Thank you,” he murmured.  “Look here, Nestad,” Aragorn pointed into the deep wound.  “It just missed the tendon.”

            Nestad looked up at Remlas, “You’re a fortunate man.”  He turned back to Aragorn.  “Would you like me to stitch him up?” he offered.

            Aragorn hesitated, looking from the wound to Nestad and back.  He did need to speak with Faelon and Tathor to decide what they were going to do and Nestad was a gifted and experienced healer and Aragorn knew that there were things that he needed to let others take care of… he could not do everything.  He nodded.  “I will steep some athelas so you may bathe his wounds before you do the stitches.”  Aragorn quickly prepared the healing herbs and stood, gently patting Remlas on the back before he walked to where Faelon and Tathor now stood at the edge of the camp.

            “It surprises me that there were not more of them,” he said as he approached.

            Faelon half-turned and looked at Aragorn with a grim smile.  “Be thankful that there were not and that these were half-starved.  They are vicious killers.”

            “I am thankful, it just surprised me with the way the horses were acting,” Aragorn replied with a shrug as he stared out into the distance.

            “Horses would have acted that way with a wolf pup,” Tathor snorted and the men chuckled briefly.

            “What are your plans, Captain?” Faelon asked after a moment.

            “I had thought to have us continue on to your patrol area, but now I wonder if we should stay and help Tathor and his men here.”  A thought struck him and he turned and looked Tathor up and down seeing his thin body for the first time.  “How have you and your men fared this winter in regards to food?  If these wolves are doing so poorly, then it must have been difficult for you to find game.”

            Tathor looked away for a moment.  “It’s been poor hunting, my lord,” he admitted.  “Deer have been scarce so it’s mostly been rabbits and such, but we carried some supplies with us, of course, and we’re doing all right.”

            Aragorn glanced at Faelon before looking around at the rest of Tathor’s men and seeing that they, too, seemed thinner than they should be and he sighed inwardly at not having seen it the night before.  They had shown up after supper and so there had been no reason to eat together or he might have noticed it then.  Aragorn would just have to give them some of the supplies they had purchased in Bree and both groups would have to get by on short rations until they returned home.  He was not sure what to say to Tathor, however.  It was part of the cost of him doing his duty as a Ranger and Aragorn did not know whether to thank him or to apologize.  In the end he decided that Tathor would probably not appreciate him saying anything about it directly, so he instead simply spoke of the matter at hand.

            “We will share some of our supplies with you before we part.”  Tathor nodded his thanks.

            “Captain, while I’m sure that there may still be wolves in this area, I’m concerned about wolves in my patrol area,” Faelon cast a worried look at Aragorn.  He had been gone a long time from the area that he had patrolled for many years.  It was a place that he felt responsible for and he did not want the wolves to gather together in large packs that might head south towards populated areas.

            It only took Aragorn a moment to decide that Faelon was right and he nodded.  “Tathor, we will have to leave you and your men to continue your normal patrol while we ride on.”

            “I understand, my lord,” he gave Aragorn a grim smile.  “I would have welcomed the help, but we’ve patrolled these lands for years on our own and we’ll do well enough without you.”

            “Good.  Have a couple of men stand watch while the rest of them pack up. Nestad and I will fix a hot breakfast.”  Aragorn glanced at Tathor.  “I think all of us could use it this morning.”

            “The men would like that, my lord.”

            “I will see to dividing up the food supplies, Captain,” Faelon said before heading off to set the men to their tasks.

            Tathor lingered for a moment.  “My lord, forgive me for questioning your orders earlier.  I should not have done that.” 

            “No, you should not have,” Aragorn agreed as he intently studied the patrol leader.  “But, I am willing to overlook it this time.  I am going to assume you did so because you do not know me yet and, perhaps, are uncertain of me because of my youth.”

            “I… well…” Tathor was not sure how to respond to such a calm, accurate assessment of him and the penetrating gaze of his lord was hard for him to hold.  “Yes,” he finally admitted, “I suppose I do think you a little… young.”

            “I am.  And, yet I am not,” Aragorn said.  “But, my age matters not, as I do expect that my orders will be followed without question while we are preparing so quickly to engage the enemy.  That is not the time to stop and discuss them.  Afterwards, or if we have more time to plan, then, of course I am willing to talk with my patrol leaders about decisions that have or must be made.  I am sure you do the same with your men, do you not?” 

            “Yes,” Tathor said with a slight bow.  “Again, forgive me and it won’t happen again.”

            “I know and we will speak no more of this.  I need to make breakfast and you need to go and help the men get ready.” 

           Tathor slowly followed him with a thoughtful expression on his face as he tried to decide if Aragorn reminded him of Arathorn or Arador.  He finally decided that his young Chieftain was different than both his father and his grandfather.  That while Aragorn might look very much like Arathorn there was something about him that was markedly different.  Tathor had never met someone so young that had such an air of authority, that could be as stern as he had just been, and, yet kind and caring as well.  Tathor had watched Aragorn with the Ranger who had been bitten and had seen his gentleness and knew that it was not feigned, that there was genuine compassion there, the mark of a true healer.  Tathor was sure that it was due to Aragorn being raised amongst the elves, but perhaps the influence of Gilraen had also played a part.  She was said to be a kind and gentle woman.  Whatever the reason, Aragorn, young as he was, was a Lord that was well worth following.  Tathor picked up his pace and hurried off to help with the horses.

0-0-0

            The two groups of Rangers went their separate ways as soon as breakfast had been eaten.  Faelon was especially anxious to return to his normal patrol area.  Aragorn had taken time to speak with the Ranger who did the healing work for Tathor’s patrol and found him competent, but not particularly well-trained and he was troubled by the knowledge.  The man knew the basic facts of healing, but Aragorn knew he would be overwhelmed if he encountered anything beyond the normal injuries any of the men received in battle.  Aragorn did not yet know how to overcome such a lack of knowledge.  Perhaps this Ranger was unusual and most of the others had more training.  He considered different possibilities as he rode along and was only vaguely aware when someone rode up alongside of him.

            “You are lost in thought, my lord Aragorn,” Halbarad said grinning as he took in the faraway look in his cousin’s eyes.  “I hope there are no other wolves around.”

            Aragorn gave him a sheepish smile as he glanced around to see if others had noticed his preoccupation as he followed Faelon.  But no one else was nearby and his horse was following Faelon obediently as it was supposed to do and Aragorn gave it an affectionate pat on its neck.  “Yes, I am,” he admitted.  “And, if there are wolves around I will leave it up to you to alert me to their presence.”

            Halbarad chuckled and shook his head.  “I’ll try, but you seem to have better hearing than I do.  What were you thinking about?” he asked curiously, wondering what could take Aragorn’s thoughts so far away when they were riding in an area that was at least somewhat dangerous.

            It took Aragorn only a moment to decide to share his concerns with Halbarad.   If he wanted him to learn his thoughts and feelings on his people then these were the kinds of things that his cousin needed to know and so he shared his concerns about the lack of training that some of the healers had.  Halbarad listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration as Aragorn spoke.  When he was finished, they rode quietly for a time before Halbarad spoke up tentatively.

            “But, it’s always been done this way, Aragorn.  I think these healers have as much training as they’ve always had and I don’t know that it’s ever been a problem.  At least, I’ve never heard of it being a problem.”

            “It may not be,” Aragorn conceded.  “I do not know enough about all of the villages and I really should speak with Nestad.  When I think of Gilost’s father, Ladreníl, I wonder if the healer had been better trained perhaps he would not have that limp that he has, perhaps he would not be blind in his one eye.  I do not know,” he shrugged.  “Certainly your naneth and Nestad are wonderful healers, but I do not know if that is because they are in the villages and have time to study and learn such things.  But, I would like to see that the Rangers who act as healers are also well trained.  I just do not know how to do such a thing… when the men would have time to learn the skills needed.”

            “Maybe when they are in the villages between patrols the village healers could give them more training.”

            “Perhaps.  But there is always so much for them to do for their families; however, it may be something that I will insist on.”  Aragorn scowled down at his saddle for a moment and then shrugged.  The people might not like it now, but if he could spare them some future suffering he would do so.  He would speak with Halhigal when he returned to the village.  He glanced back over at Halbarad.  “I will speak of this with your father and Nestad when we return to Dolomar.”

            Halbarad nodded as he pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders.  The late morning sun had driven much of the cold from the air, but it was still colder than he liked.  “Can we stop early tonight so we can go hunting?  Giving away some of our supplies means we’ll need to do that and we haven’t gone hunting for a long time.”

            Blinking at the sudden change in subjects, Aragorn’s lips curved up into a slow smile as he regarded Halbarad.  “We will be hunting wolves soon enough, Cousin.”  Halbarad just scowled.  Aragorn laughed quietly.  “It is probably a good idea, though,” he paused and looked at their rocky, bush covered surroundings, “I do not know what kind of game we will find here.  It is obvious that the wolves were not finding much to eat.”

            “Probably only rabbits,” Halbarad said, “It’s too early for fowl.  Well, perhaps you might be able to catch a bigger rabbit than me,” he added with a sly glance at Aragorn.  “Though, it’s harder to tell with rabbits since they don’t have antlers, maybe one of the other men can judge them for us.”

            “Perhaps you would like to care for all of the horses this evening while I go hunting with Gilost and Daedaen?” Aragorn asked mildly as he looked into the distance. 

            Halbarad laughed.  “You really need to come up with something better to say than threatening me with chores every time I remind you that I’m a much better hunter than you are.”

            Aragorn gave him a rueful smile.  “I suppose I should, or else I should actually follow through on my threat.  It would give me time to practice my poor hunting skills without your interference.”  He chuckled at the expression on Halbarad’s face and after a moment his cousin joined him and the two young men continued their discussion as they rode eastward towards the Weather Hills.

0-0-0

            Gilost followed a quietly grumbling Halbarad back to camp.  The younger Ranger had only managed to shoot a single rabbit while he had gotten three, though they were all quite small.  He had heard of the friendly competition between Halbarad and Aragorn and even with young Eradan back in Dolomar, but Halbarad seemed quite put out about the matter much to Gilost’s amusement, which he kept carefully hidden. 

           Aragorn had already returned and was sitting by the fire with Faelon, Nestad, and Remlas when the two men walked into camp.  He made no comment, but his eyes sparkled with amusement when he took in the single rabbit that Halbarad carried and he looked pointedly down at the three rabbits that were cooking over the fire.  Halbarad scowled at his cousin as he went to the far side of the camp to clean the rabbit.  Returning to the fire when he was finished he handed the skinned rabbit to Aragorn who inspected it closely before carefully rubbing some of their precious stores of seasonings on it and putting it on a spit and setting it over the fire to cook.

            “No wonder the wolves are starving,” Nestad commented.  “If that’s the size of the rabbits in this area they would need to eat five of them a day just to survive!”

            “And, there aren’t very many of them either,” Gilost added as he joined them.  Aragorn took the rabbits Gilost handed him and set them aside to cook after they had eaten.  There was not enough room to cook all of the rabbits at once and the meat from those rabbits could be eaten in the morning.  The men talked quietly of the path ahead of them as the meat cooked and as they ate their simple meal of rabbit and dried fruit taken from their now meager food supplies.

            They had not seen any signs of wolves during the day, nor did they in the days following as they continued their journey.  Although they stopped frequently at likely places to check for any signs that indicated wolves had been in the area recently.  The weather warmed up again as they crossed through the Weather Hills and descended down the eastern slopes of the hills and onto the rolling, rock and bush covered plains.  Although the eastern side of the Weather Hills had more trees than the western side, they were widely scattered across the land in small copses or along the banks of streams.   Faelon led them to one of the stands of trees along a fast moving stream that was swollen with the spring run off.

            “This is one of the places we use as a camp, Captain,” Faelon said to Aragorn.  “I thought we might stay here for some time before we ride on further east and then head back south towards home.”

            Looking around at the small sheltered area Aragorn could see that it would be an ideal place for a small group of Rangers to stay for a few days or weeks while they rode out to patrol in various directions.  “This should serve us well,” he replied as he dismounted.

            The men turned to the mundane tasks that it took to set up their camp each evening, though they took a bit of extra time in placing the tents since they would be there for some days.  Aragorn was learning that much of what his Rangers did was simply tedious work.  There were days and days of riding and hunting and being extremely vigilant as they looked for signs of orcs, and wolves, and other creatures of darkness.  Those long days might be followed by short, intense bursts of fighting and blood and death.  After patching up the wounded… or burying the dead, they then returned to the monotony of their patrolling. 

            When Aragorn had been in Imladris the longest he had ever been out on patrol was a little over four weeks as he scouted with his brothers and Glorfindel up into the lower foothills of the Misty Mountains.  By the time they returned to Dolomar he would have been gone just over two months.  For Faelon, Daedaen, and Remlas it would be over six months.  And these men had done that for years… and would continue to do so for many more years assuming they stayed healthy enough.  The reality of it sobered him.  He was part of these men… part of the Dúnedain… their Chieftain… their Lord.  And his life would be even more unsettled than most of his Rangers.  Aragorn knew he would rarely stay with a patrol for any length of time, that he would most likely travel between the various patrols and villages to check on his people.

            Adjusting the firewood he was carrying so that he could add another small log to the load, Aragorn shook his head slightly as he once again considered the incredible strength and endurance of his people.  They had been serving the people of Eriador in this way for hundreds of years now.

            “Is the load too heavy for you?  Do you need my help?” Halbarad asked as he walked up behind his cousin with his hands full of waterskins.  Aragorn heard the teasing note in Halbarad’s voice as he glanced over his shoulder at him.

            “No, I do not.”

            At the serious expression on Aragorn’s face, Halbarad quickly put aside his jesting.  “What is the matter, Aragorn?  What troubles you?”

            Aragorn glanced down at the ground briefly before meeting Halbarad’s questioning gaze.  “I am not truly troubled.  I was just thinking about our people and the life they lead.”  He gestured with the small log toward the rest of the men who were caring for the horses, setting up tents, and starting supper.  “Being on patrol has let me see what it is truly like for our Rangers.  It is not something you can understand by hearing about it.”

            “No, it’s not,” Halbarad agreed.  “I’ve grown up hearing stories about being a Ranger… but this isn’t quite what I thought it would be like.  I thought it would be more…” he paused.

            “More interesting?  More exciting?”

            “I suppose so.  It’s not that I want to fight more orcs or wolves,” he hastened to add, “but I just thought it would be different somehow.  Is that what you were thinking?”

            Aragorn shifted the load of wood as he slowly shook his head.  “No, that is not quite what I was thinking, Halbarad.  I see these men who have toiled for years without complaint…well,” he gave his cousin a faint smile, “at least not as far as I know.  But, they are out here in all kinds of weather, away from their families, moving from place to place and searching out the enemy to beat back the creatures of darkness.  But it is a monotonous type of work that wears at a man’s soul, I think.  They do it because it is our duty as the Dúnedain, and, I think, because they hope that one day things might be different.  That is what I was thinking of,” he said with another small smile at his cousin who nodded with a serious expression.

            “We do it for you,” Halbarad said quietly as his grey eyes studied his lord’s suddenly startled ones.  “For all of the heirs of Isildur, and right now that’s you.  We do it so that some day you will have a restored kingdom and your rightful throne.”  He gently grasped Aragorn’s arm and began pulling him towards the fire where Nestad was watching them curiously.  “Nestad needs the wood for the fire, my lord Aragorn.”  This time there was not a hint of teasing in Halbarad’s voice as he called Aragorn his lord.

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Author’s Note: I believe I missed responding to some of the reviews for the last chapter and I’m very sorry about that.  I do so appreciate each one.  It’s been very hectic around here as I get ready to go back to work now.  I’m actually surprised I was able to get this chapter out so quickly, but we are rapidly drawing to the end here and so maybe that was a motivating factor.  Or, sometimes the busier I am the more I get accomplished!

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Chapter 23

            Aragorn listened to the low voices of his men as they talked quietly of their expected arrival in Dolomar later in the afternoon.  They talked of their families mostly, but also of friends, and their hope that things had gone well in the village during their absence.  They wondered if any of the other patrols would be in and if any of the other men had been injured or killed during their own patrols.  A sense of excitement lay just under the surface of the normally solemn Rangers.

            The weeks they had spent patrolling the area east of the Weather Hills had proved mostly uneventful.  They had come across a few small packs of wolves, but had not seen a single orc during those weeks.  The weather had been foul for much of the time.  It was cold the first week before becoming rainy; the damp and cool weather actually more uncomfortable than the cold had been.  Only the past week as they headed home had the weather warmed and become pleasant. 

            While Aragorn was, of course, looking forward to being back in Dolomar and seeing his family, he was not particularly thinking of them as they rode along the edge of the marshland that was several miles north and west of the village.  He was thinking about his plans for the next few months – which villages and Ranger patrols to visit and what routes would best take him to those places.  He also needed to decide which of his men to take with him.  Faelon could not accompany him; he was too valuable as a patrol leader.  Halbarad would ride with him, but Daedaen and Remlas would return to Faelon’s patrol.  Gilost had been part of Caladel’s patrol until he had been injured, but Aragorn intended to keep the Ranger with him. 

           Aragorn was uncertain about taking Nestad.  The healer had gone with them to Bree because none of the rest of them had been there before.  But visiting the other villages and Ranger patrols did not require that and so there was no real need for Nestad to come.  Except, Aragorn admitted to himself, his own personal desire for Nestad’s wisdom and counsel.  His concern stemmed from the fact that Nestad was a fully trained healer and could better be used…

          Something pulled Aragorn from his thoughts and he tugged hard on the reins bringing his horse to a halt and pulling his sword half way out of its sheath.  He assumed that what he had heard or sensed was one of the boys or young men who should be patrolling the area around the village.  Behind him he heard the other men readying their swords.  “Come out,” he called sharply, looking in the general direction he had heard the noise.  To Aragorn’s surprise when Alvist stepped from the bushes it was well to the left of where he thought he would be.  The boy had done a good job of quietly sneaking away once he realized he had been spotted, though the chagrined look on Alvist’s face suggested the boy thought otherwise.

           “Well met, Alvist.”

          “Well met, my lord.” He gave a little half bow and his eyes shifted to look over the men riding behind Aragorn.

          “We are all well,” Aragorn said reassuringly and Alvist quickly looked back at him.  “How does the village fare?”  He patted his horse as it shifted under him.

          “Everything is well,” the boy answered.  “There haven’t been any orcs or anything like that since you left.”

          “Have any of the other patrols returned?” Faelon asked.

          “Yes, Caladel’s patrol returned four days ago.  Baisael and all of the men are well,” Alvist continued at Faelon’s questioning look.

          Faelon nodded his thanks at the news of his eldest son and relaxed back in his saddle with an inward sigh.  Even though his son had been a Ranger for a number of years, Faelon still worried about him during the long, lonely watches of the night.

          Aragorn made to ride on when a thought occurred to him and he looked down at Alvist.  “Are you not a little young to be out here?”

          Alvist straightened up.  “I turned sixteen last month, my lord, and now I’m allowed to patrol during the day.”

          “I see,” Aragorn suppressed a sigh.  “You did a good job of slipping away quietly once you knew that we had discovered you, but you need to practice staying still so you don’t need to slip away,” he admonished the boy sternly.

          “Yes, my lord,” Alvist replied staring down at his feet.

          Aragorn glanced up at the sky and saw that it was only a couple of hours until the sun set.  “Were you planning on returning to the village soon?”

          “Yes, I have to be in before they close the gates and one of the young men will be patrolling.”

          “Ride with me, then.”  Aragorn twisted around on his saddle and untied his bedroll and tossed it to Halbarad who caught it with a grin and laid it across his lap.  He then took his packs and more carefully handed them to Gilost who placed them behind him and loosely tied them to his own packs.  Aragorn turned back to a surprised Alvist and reached his hand down to the boy.  “Give me your hand.”  There was a slight hesitation and then Alvist smiled and allowed Aragorn to haul him up behind him on the horse which danced around for a moment under the additional weight.  Aragorn spoke soothingly to the horse and patted its neck and it settled down.  He urged the horse on at a slow trot and he smiled slightly when he felt Alvist lightly grip his belt.

          “Have you been practicing the things I taught you with your sword?” Aragorn asked glancing over his shoulder at Alvist.

          The boy nodded eagerly.  “Yes, almost everyday and I work with Mellonar, too.  I think I’m better with my bow, though,” he added after a moment.

          “A bow is a necessary and useful tool and weapon, but the sword is something that you must practice and become very skilled at, Alvist,” Aragorn said glancing over his shoulder once again, his grey eyes studying the boy briefly.  “You will run out of arrows rather quickly during a battle and a bow does not work well at night or if you are close to your enemy.”

          “So everyone says, my lord,” Alvist said and Aragorn could hear the longsuffering tone in his voice. He had evidently been given that well-meaning advice many times over the years and Aragorn bit back the chuckle he felt rising inside of himself and he changed the subject.

          “Did you read the books I left with you?”

          “Yes, several times.”

          Aragorn heard a hesitant, questioning note in Alvist’s voice.  Sensing that there were things the boy had not understood in the books he had borrowed, Aragorn began asking him questions and started teaching him the things that the boy desperately wanted to know and understand.

0-0-0-0-0

            Eradan and Rosruin met the returning patrol at the gates of the village and Eradan’s enthusiastic cries of welcome drew peoples’ attention to their arrival.  Wives, mothers, fathers, children, and friends all hurried to greet their loved ones.  Alvist slipped off of Aragorn’s horse with a quiet thank you and Aragorn dismounted and clasped arms with Eradan.

            “Well met, Lord Aragorn.  Welcome home.”

            “Thank you, it is good to be back.”  Aragorn smiled his thanks as the young man took his horse and led if off towards the stable, stopping only to greet Halbarad and taking his horse as well.

            Aragorn watched the reunions with pleasure and with a faint smile on his lips.  He knew the women of the village quite well now and to watch them greet their returning family members touched him in an undefinable way.  He was watching Nestad embracing his daughter when Halhigal and Nimrie arrived.  Nimrie’s eyes were fixed on Halbarad as she approached.  She looked him up and down and Aragorn noticed her eyes lingering on his hand and he knew that the Rangers who had returned earlier had told of Halbarad’s injury.  Nimrie did not say anything as she enfolded her son in her arms.

            Halhigal watched his wife and son for a moment before turning to Aragorn.  “Welcome home, Aragorn,” he said as he clasped Aragorn’s arm before slipping his arm around the young man’s shoulder briefly.  “How do you fare?”  He looked pointedly down at Aragorn’s leg.

            “I am well, Uncle,” he replied as he lifted his leg slightly and rotated it a bit.  He let his leg fall back down and gestured at the village.  “It is good to be home, how do the people fare?  Is all well here?”

            Halhigal was starting to explain when Nimrie interrupted them.  “This isn’t the time to be speaking of that,” she exclaimed.  “At least not until I’ve had a chance to greet him.”  She embraced Aragorn, surprising him with the fierceness of the hold she had on him.  He patted her back gently and glanced at Halbarad, but he was now speaking with his father.  Nimrie released her hold on him and stepped back.  “How is your leg, Aragorn?  They told us you’d been shot and I worried so about you.”

            Aragorn could read the worry and fear in her eyes and he took her hand and patted it gently.  “I am well… we both are, Aunt.  Nestad is an experienced healer and neither injury was serious enough to send us home.  Though, if you had been with us you may have sent us back and tucked us into bed,” he gave her a brief grin to try and lighten her concerns.  It did not work.

            Nimrie shook her head as she looked Aragorn up and down.  “I heard about the arrow you took, Aragorn, and I know how severe it was… do not jest with me.”  She sighed and looked away from him for a moment.  “But,” she looked back and gave him a small smile that did not reach her eyes, “I also know that you would not… could not have done anything differently.  Nor would Halhigal or Halbarad,” she said as she glanced over at her husband and son who were talking in quiet voices with serious expressions on their faces.  “It’s your duty and I know that.”  She pulled her hand away from Aragorn’s and rubbed them together briskly.  “Now, I’m sure you and Halbarad are ready for a home cooked meal, are you not?”  Aragorn’s eyes lit up and he nodded.  “Good, then let’s go home.”

            As Aragorn started after her he felt a sharp tug on the bottom of his tunic and he stopped and looked down into the grinning face of Balrant.

            “Hello, Aragorn!” the boy greeted him cheerfully and Aragorn smiled.

            “Hello, Balrant,” Aragorn said as he crouched down so he could be at eye level with the little boy. 

            “I missed you.  Will you stay here for a long time now?” he asked eagerly.

            Aragorn glanced over the boy’s shoulder to where Faelon was standing with his wife, Arthiell, and his older son and daughter.  Faelon was not paying the least bit of attention to anything around him as he spoke with his wife and so Aragorn turned his gaze back to the questioning, hopeful eyes of the boy.  “I do not know how long I will be here, Balrant,” he said.  “I have not yet decided, but I should be here for a few weeks.”  Aragorn knew that he would be here at least until Norgalad arrived so that he could hear him and Gaerwen exchange their wedding vows.

            “Oh,” Balrant mumbled crestfallen, his foot kicking at the dirt.  He took a deep breath and looked up into Aragorn’s eyes.  “You got hurt,” he said quietly.

            “I did,” Aragorn responded trying to hide his surprise that the boy knew.  Though, he supposed it was not a secret.  “But, I am well now.”

            “Did it hurt?”

            “Yes, it did, but Nestad is an experienced healer and gave me some herbs so that the pain did not last too long.”  Aragorn was not going to lie to Balrant, but he did not want to frighten the boy either.

            “Were you afraid?”

            “When I got shot?”  Balrant nodded, biting his lip.  Aragorn thought for a moment before answering the question.  He finally nodded his head.  “Yes, Balrant, I was afraid.  At least for a few minutes... but then I became too busy to be afraid, I think.  Everyone is afraid when they have to battle orcs or wolves, but you learn how to fight even when you are frightened.”  Aragorn glanced up at Faelon and Arthiell who had joined them and had heard his response.

            “It’s time to go home, Balrant,” Faelon said, laying his hand on his son’s shoulder and pulling the boy close to his side.  “I’m hungry and Nana has promised to make me supper.”

            “Chicken?” Aragorn asked as he stood up, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

            A puzzled looked crossed Faelon’s face briefly before understanding dawned in his eyes as he remembered their discussion on who cooked the best chicken.  He chuckled as Arthiell answered in her soft, quiet voice.  “I can roast a chicken, Faelon, if that’s what you want.”

            “It doesn’t matter,” he replied as he put his arm around her waist and steered her off towards home, nodding good-bye to Aragorn as he left.  Balrant lingered for a moment.

            “I can run errands for you tomorrow,” he offered anxiously.

            “I will be around the village,” Aragorn said with a smile wondering just what the boy did when he was not around.  Although, he was not so far removed from his own childhood that he did not remember what it was like to follow around those you admired.  He quite clearly remembered following his brothers or Glorfindel.  It was just odd to have a little boy admiring him or following him in that same way.  “If I have any errands you can do, I will let you know.”  Balrant grinned and darted away after his parents.

            “I’m sure that Nimrie can make you chicken, too,” Halhigal said with a small smile as Aragorn turned to see him waiting patiently.  “She and Halbarad went ahead,” he continued as he noticed Aragorn’s wandering gaze.

            “I will most eagerly eat whatever she makes,” Aragorn returned with his own smile.

            They walked through the village stopping occasionally to speak with those who came up to greet their returned lord.  Aragorn spoke briefly with Caladel and made arrangements to meet with the patrol leader the following morning.  He smiled at the twins, Culas and Celin, as they ran past with a barking dog at their heels and he wondered what mischief they had been up to.  Aragorn paused for a moment to watch Mellonar working with the boys and young men who were practicing with their swords.  He could see marked improvement in several of the boys and he nodded at Mellonar as he walked on towards home.

            “Is grandmother well?” Aragorn asked as they neared her house.

            Halhigal nodded.  “Yes, and I’m sure she’ll be looking for you and Halbarad soon.  She’s been asking me about the two of you for the last couple of weeks.  Wondering if I’ve heard anything about your patrol, though I’m sure she’ll never tell you that.”

            Aragorn chuckled and shook his head.  “No, I am sure not.  I will go and see her after supper,” he glanced down at himself, “after I clean up.”

            “And change your clothes,” Halhigal said as he glanced at the elven made tunic Aragorn was wearing.  His eyes twinkled with amusement.

            “I like this tunic,” he protested with a grin.  “I think the only clean clothes I have are elven made.  That is all I left here,” he shrugged.  “Well, perhaps she will overlook it in her joy at seeing me,” he said with a small laugh.

            Halhigal simply shook his head and changed the subject.  “How did you find Bree?  I spoke of it briefly with Halbarad, but he would not say much.”

            Aragorn sobered immediately and his face darkened.  Halhigal’s concern grew as he noticed the changes in his nephew’s countenance.  “I found Bree… interesting,” Aragorn said after a moment’s pause and a sidelong glance at Halhigal that the older man could not read.  “I learned much about the ways of Men,” he paused again and frowned slightly, “and about myself.  It was not just a matter of taking the bandits to Bree and leaving them to their village leaders to punish, Uncle.”

            “Why?  It should have been that simple,” Halhigal looked at Aragorn for an explanation.  The two men stopped under the tree nearest the house.

            Aragorn sighed and looked away briefly before trying to explain all that had happened in a few, brief words.  “Because along the way we got to know the youngest of the bandits and learned how he happened to join the others and that he had not killed any of the travelers.  When we got to Bree I explained Will’s… circumstances to the mayor and the other village leaders and asked that he be given a more just punishment.”  He sighed again.  “But they decided that as he had helped rob the people he still deserved to die and they… hanged him with the others.  There were other things, too… the way the people treated us,” Aragorn shrugged.  “That was difficult,” he admitted, “but not unexpected.  Some of the people cheered as the bandits were hanged and they had their children with them,” he shook his head in dismay, the memory of that day easily called to mind.

            “I am glad that Nestad was with us,” Aragorn continued.  “He was able to help Halbarad and me gain some understanding as we discussed justice and mercy.  That is a very simple explanation, Uncle.”  He leaned back against the tree with his arms crossed as he finished.  “It is not something I will ever forget.”

            “I’m sure not,” Halhigal responded quietly.  Even though he did not totally understand all that had happened he could feel the depth of Aragorn’s emotions… as he had with Halbarad earlier.  “Nor should you.”  Aragorn nodded once.  Halhigal decided that he would wait and speak with some of the other men to find out more details of what had happened and motioned towards the house.  “I’m sure Nimrie and Halbarad are waiting for us,” he said as he led Aragorn inside.

0-0-0

            Cleaned and well-fed, Aragorn and Halbarad left their house and ambled down the road towards their grandmother’s.  Halbarad reached for his pipe and then thought better of it as he dropped it back into his pouch with a sigh.

            “Perhaps we can join the others later,” Aragorn said indicating the small group of men and women gathering around a fire in the village center.  It was still cool in the evenings this first week of May. “You can smoke there.”  Halbarad grunted his agreement and Aragorn gave him a puzzled look but said nothing further as they had reached their grandmother’s house.  He knocked on the door and stepped back alongside Halbarad to wait, wondering as he did so what kind of reception he would receive this time.

            Aragorn saw the quick flash of relief in his grandmother’s eyes as she opened the door and looked her two tall grandsons up and down, but an impassive expression quickly replaced it as she greeted them.  “It took you two long enough to come and see me.  I heard you got back hours ago.”

            “We were filthy, Grandmother,” Aragorn said, “and thought it best to change before coming to see you.”

            “As if I haven’t seen dirt before,” Ivorwen snorted.  She opened the door and beckoned them inside.  “Well, you might as well come in.”  Her voice had not warmed appreciably, but neither Aragorn nor Halbarad were fooled by her gruff manner.  They followed her inside and sat down on the benches she pointed them to.  “I’ll make us some tea,” she said as she pulled three mugs down from the open shelf near the table.  Setting the mugs near Aragorn and Halbarad with a jar of tea leaves she then went to the fire and carefully took the kettle of steaming water off the hook and carried it back to the table. 

            Aragorn had started to add tea leaves to the mugs, but had stopped at Halbarad’s look of dismay and quick shake of his head.  Instead he just watched with interest as she opened the jar and began spooning a variety of leaves into the mugs.  He sniffed and then asked cautiously, “Are there raspberry leaves in there?”  Everyone made their tea a little differently and most made several different kinds with a variety of dried leaves, roots, and flowers.  Aragorn had not had any with raspberry leaves since he had been in Imladris.  It was a kind his naneth had often made.

            Ivorwen’s hand stilled and she looked at Aragorn warily.  “Yes, there are.  Do you not like raspberry tea?”  Aragorn could not tell from her tone what she was thinking and was somewhat surprised.   “Would you rather have ale?” she asked after a moment with a slightly worried look and again Aragorn was surprised.

            Aragorn shook his head and smiled.  “No, no, I like raspberry tea, Grandmother.  My naneth used to make it for me and I have not had any since I came here.  The smell reminded me of her,” he added softly.

            “Oh,” Ivorwen finished with the leaves, setting the jar aside and took up the kettle and poured the hot water into each mug.

            “Grandmother always made this kind of tea for me,” Halbarad said to fill the silence that had fallen over them.  He gave Aragorn a questioning glance but his cousin simply gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

            “I saw that,” Ivorwen said looking between her grandsons with a scowl before she returned the kettle to the fire.  She got a plate of honey cakes that had been left warming near the fire and returned and sat in a chair at the end of the table.  “Here.”  Aragorn and Halbarad murmured their thanks as they each took a cake and eagerly bit into it.

            “I’m glad to hear that my daughter makes this tea,” Ivorwen said as she stared down at the table.  “My mother taught me how to make it.”  Both men could hear the longing in her voice.  Whether it was for her daughter or her mother they did not know, but they assumed it was probably for both of them.

            “It… it was something that Naneth and I often did, Grandmother.”  Aragorn was not sure how much to say to her; he did not want to speak of things that would cause her pain.  “She would make tea and we would drink it before I went to bed.”  He looked at his grandmother and when she nodded, he continued.  “When I was younger she would tell me a story and as I got older we would simply talk.  Sometimes about things that had happened during the day, or she would answer my questions… sometimes ones that I did not want to ask my adar or one of the elves.”  Aragorn looked down at his tea and decided it had steeped long enough and he carefully scooped out the leaves and took a sip.

            “What kind of questions could you not ask an elf?” Halbarad asked, puzzled.

            “Remember they are not mortal, Halbarad, and so they cannot understand certain things about us… or, as I mentioned to you before, they see things differently. I remember there was a time when I could see my naneth was changing and so we spoke of… ”

            “Changing?  What do you mean she was changing?” Ivorwen asked sharply, her eyes fixed intently on Aragorn’s.

            Aragorn reached over and for the first time was able to touch his grandmother as he gently patted her hand.  “Peace, Grandmother.  I was twelve, I think, and had noticed that she had wrinkles around her eyes, and I did not know why.  I had never seen an elf with wrinkles like that,” he laughed lightly at the expressions on the faces his grandmother and his cousin.  “I was sure she was dying and so I finally got the courage to ask her.  She spoke with me about sorrow and aging and death.”  He looked at Halbarad.  “I did speak about it later with my adar, but as I grew older, those are the kinds of questions I usually did not ask an elf.”

            “She’s too young to have wrinkles,” Ivorwen said as she peered into her mug of tea her brow furrowed with worry.  “What does she do?”  She looked up at Aragorn and he was taken aback by the pleading look in her eyes.

            “How does she fill her days?” he wanted to make sure he understood her.

            “Of course the days!” Ivorwen snapped.  “I assume she sleeps at night.”  She took a deep breath to calm herself.  “Please, Aragorn, I need to hear what Gilraen has been doing all these years.”

            “Yes, of course, Grandmother,” Aragorn said soothingly as he patted her hand once again.  “But, I would ask a favor in return.”

            “What?” she asked suspiciously.

            “I would like to hear of your life,” he replied simply.

            “I’d also like to hear that,” added Halbarad.  “I know very little of your life.”

            It was quiet for a moment except for the small hisses and crackling of the fire.  Finally, Ivorwen gave a small nod.  “It seems a fair exchange.”

            Aragorn smiled.  “It is, Grandmother, and I look forward to hearing your stories, but since you asked first, I will start.”  He lost track of time as he described how he and his naneth lived in Imladris and the things that they did in the elven refuge.  He focused as much as possible on Gilraen and less on what occupied his days.  Both Halbarad and Ivorwen stopped him many times to ask questions.  It was growing late when he finally stopped, having run out of things to share.

            Ivorwen sat very still with her head bowed and the cousins exchanged glances wondering what their grandmother was thinking.  But they said nothing as they sipped on what was another of a seemingly endless number of mugs of tea.  She finally stirred and looked up at Aragorn.  “We’ll have to wait for another time for me to tell you of my life, I’m simply too tired tonight.”

            “I… we,” Aragorn glanced at Halbarad, “will be here for some time, Grandmother,” he said quietly.  “There is no need to hear it tonight, but,” he gave her a small smile, “I will not forget your promise.”

            Ivorwen snorted, “I don’t forget my promises, Aragorn.”

            Aragorn rather thought her supposed irritation was more out of habit than anything else and he nodded.  “I am sure you do not,” he said as he stood from the bench and stretched his back.  Halbarad was already at the door and Aragorn followed him keeping one eye on his grandmother who was still sitting at the table and appeared to be lost in thought once again.  Both men said good-night as they left but Ivorwen did not look up as the door opened and closed quietly behind her grandsons.

0-0-0

            After speaking with Caladel about his patrol, Aragorn sent Balrant off to ask Faelon, Ladreníl, Nestad, and Sírdhim to join him in the Hall.  Halbarad had come in a few minutes before and he joined Aragorn and Halhigal at the table as soon as Caladel left the building and they spoke quietly as they waited for the other men to arrive. 

            “I heard you’re going to hear Gaerwen and Norgalad’s exchange their wedding vows,” Halhigal commented.

            Halbarad interrupted Aragorn’s reply.  “He’s never even seen a wedding,” he laughed, grinning at Aragorn who shrugged.

            “I have not been here that long,” he pointed out.  “I do understand the general idea, Halbarad, and I am sure it will not be that difficult.”

            “Hmmm, no, it’s not difficult,” Halhigal said slowly a glint of amusement lighting his eyes.  “However, it is probably the most important and special day of a woman’s life, so great care must be taken to ensure that everything is done properly.”

            Aragorn’s eyes widened as he considered his uncle’s words.  He smiled as he saw the twinkle in Halhigal’s eyes.  “You will teach me what to do and if anything goes wrong, I am placing all of the blame on your shoulders, Uncle Halhigal.”

            “Nimrie is going to tell you what to do,” his uncle quickly responded.  “She knows much more about it than I do.”

            Halbarad let out a small laugh.  “And who’s been hearing the exchange of vows for the past twenty years, Adar?”

            “I have, but your naneth still knows more than I do.”

            Aragorn and Halbarad chuckled at that.  The door to the Hall opened and the men Aragorn had summoned walked in and joined the three of them.  Nestad was carefully carrying four mugs with him and he set them down on the table in front of Aragorn before sliding one in front of Halbarad and one over to Halhigal.  He kept one mug as he sat down next to Faelon.  Aragorn looked down at the ale and over to Nestad with a questioning look. 

            “My daughter said she knew how much I’d be talking and she didn’t want my mouth to dry out and that it’d be rude not to have something for you to drink, my lord,” Nestad said with a smile as he took a drink.  Small snorts of laughter and smiles met that comment.

            “You didn’t bring any for the rest of us?” Sírdhim asked sourly.

            “I didn’t have enough hands.” Nestad met the older mans gaze without blinking and without losing his slight smile.  Sírdhim grunted and looked away.

            “I will get you some ale if you want it, Adar,” Ladreníl offered quietly starting to stand.  Aragorn put his hand out to stop him.

            “I will send Balrant; I imagine he is sitting on the porch waiting for another errand.”

            “He is,” Faelon nodded as Aragorn crossed to the door and spoke to the boy who scurried off to speak with Nimrie.

            Aragorn resumed his seat and immediately began asking Ladreníl questions about the fields, the gardens, and the general state of the village.  He was not going to let Sírdhim distract him from their purpose in gathering.  There were times when the oldest man in the village provided valuable insight, but considering Sírdhim’s mood it looked like that might not happen today.  Their discussion of the village and its people lasted close to an hour and Aragorn was pleased at what he learned.  For the most part the people were healthy, the crops were being sown, there were new calves and lambs, and the food stores were holding up even with the increased number of people.  Eradan and the other young men had done well in supplying fresh meat while he had been gone.  The men made some plans for the future before Aragorn turned the discussion to his own plans.

            “I have been considering my journey to visit the other villages and to meet with the rest of the Ranger patrols,” he began.  Aragorn was not sure how the men would react to what he was going to suggest.  “I know that we had originally discussed going to visit Forntaur and a few of the patrols and then returning to Dolomar.  But I have decided that it makes little sense for me to go that far and then return home.”  He pushed the map he had been using earlier with Caladel over so that all could see it.

            “My thought was to go to Forntaur and then continue southwest to Tharbad before heading up the Greenway to Sarn Ford.  I will also scout at least the edges of the Shire before returning home.  Along the way I plan to stop at each of our villages and go to each of the Ranger patrols and met the men.”  Aragorn watched as the men exchanged surprised glances.

            “You’ll be gone a long time,” Ladreníl ventured quietly after several moments of silence had passed.  “A year at least.”

            “Probably closer to two,” Aragorn said glancing sidelong at his uncle who had an unreadable expression on his face.  “I will spend some time in each of the three villages.  At least a month, possibly longer.  I think that is the only way that I will get to know my people and that they will get to know me.”

            “You’re right, my lord,” Nestad spoke up.  “Our people are widely scattered and you’ve been gone so long that they deserve to have at least a little time to come to know you as we all have.  It’s not much time, but I think it’s a good thing to do.”

            “It’ll prove to them that you aren’t too elvish,” Sírdhim said without looking at Aragorn.

            Aragorn was not sure how to take that remark.  Did it mean that Sírdhim had finally accepted the fact that he was a true Dúnedain?  That he had not been ‘tainted’ by growing up in Imladris?  Or, that at least other people would find him acceptable even if he did not?  He sighed inwardly and simply nodded, ignoring Nestad and Halbarad’s looks of amusement.

            “What are your thoughts, Uncle?” Aragorn asked, turning slightly on the bench so he could see him better.

            Halhigal gave a slow nod.  “It is a good idea, Aragorn.  You need to have a better understanding of all of Eriador and your people and it makes little sense for you to keep returning here and then going out again to visit another village.  Perhaps you should have gone from Bree.”

            “I considered it at one time, but I had just as much need to see the northern reaches of Eriador as the southern and I could not leave Faelon without enough men.”

            “How many men will you take with you?” Faelon asked.

            Aragorn stared down at the table for a moment before answering.  “I will take four men.  Halbarad and Gilost… I am uncertain about the other two.”  He glanced at Nestad who was watching him with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face.  “Caladel’s patrol is already short a man because I have Gilost, Faelon needs all five of his men and I will not take one of them.”  Aragorn held up his hand to stop the inevitable protest from Faelon.  “Between the orcs and the wolves that patrol the North, I will not short you on men, Faelon.  There are fewer Rangers patrolling that area and I will not take one from your patrol.”  His voice was stern and Faelon nodded.

            “Dorlas’s patrol won’t be back for months and so that leaves Thalion’s patrol which will hopefully arrive in a few weeks.”

            “Are you going to take two men from his patrol?” Faelon asked sharply.

            “No,” Aragorn shook his head.  “If my uncle and Nestad thought it wise, I thought I would take Laegrist with me.”

            “He is young, only twenty-eight,” Nestad spoke up immediately.

            “And you already have Halbarad and Gilost riding with you,” Halhigal added.

            “Gilost is not young,” Ladreníl interjected, “he is thirty-four and has been a Ranger for ten years.”

            “I know,” Halhigal said, “but in comparison to some of the other men on Thalion’s patrol that could accompany our lord, he is young.  I would rather Aragorn have some men with many years of experience riding with him rather than Laegrist.”

            “Tadion and Maldathor would be better choices,” Nestad said.  Aragorn noticed he did not mention Hirgon who also had years of experience.

            “Why did you choose Laegrist?” Faelon asked curiously.

            Aragorn cleared his throat.  “Because I do not want him on the same patrol as his father.  Just as you do not have Baisael riding in your patrol and Halhigal cannot ride with me, I thought it made sense to have him accompany me.”  There were small nods and looks of understanding.

            “You have not said who your fourth man is,” Nestad pointed out.  “Perhaps that will help us decide on Laegrist.”

            “I would like you to accompany me,” Aragorn said and Nestad smiled.  “However, I am uncertain if that is the best thing to do.”

            “Why?” Halhigal asked, his confused expression was reflected on most of the faces of those sitting at the table.  “He was just with you on your last journey.”

            “I am aware of that,” Aragorn said with a small frown.  “As some of you know,” he looked at Faelon, Halbarad, and Nestad, “I have been somewhat concerned about the skills of some of the healers.”  There were looks of surprise on the faces of the other three men and Sírdhim scowled.  “Especially those that travel with the Rangers.  The one that rode with Tathor was not well-trained and…”

            “Our healers have been trained the same way for years,” Sírdhim interrupted.  Ladreníl put a cautioning hand on his father’s arm.

            “I am aware of that, Sírdhim.  It is something I think can be improved, however,” Aragorn said eyeing the man closely.  “I would like our Rangers to have the very best of healers.”

            “We all want that,” Faelon said softly.  “How do you suggest we do that?”

            “I have thought much on it and as Dolomar already has a well-trained healer I thought that Nestad could ride with the different patrols and train the healers.  I know it will take time, but it is the only way I can think of to train them.  We cannot have them come here and train them, although I do think that would be the best way to do it.”

            “It will take a long time,” Halhigal said slowly.

            “I know.”

            “How long would a healer need to stay here in Dolomar for training?” Ladreníl asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

            Aragorn blinked in surprise and looked at Nestad for help in answering the question.  “It would depend,” he said after a moment, “on the amount of training they already had.”  He never thought that any of them would even consider such a possibility.

            “A year,” Nestad said firmly.  “Most would need at least a year.”

            “It’s a long time and I wouldn’t want to be without my healer for that length of time,” Faelon said with a frown.  “We should have done it several years ago when things were quieter.”

            “Then Aragorn’s idea is the best one,” Halhigal said.  “However, I think that we should put it off for a time.”

            “Why?  I want to start training them as soon as possible.”

            “Because I think that Nestad needs to go with you, Aragorn.”  Halhigal glanced between his nephew and the healer who nodded.  “I know that you value his counsel and wisdom and that both will be needed on this journey.  You do not know either Maldathor or Tadion well enough to confide in them and I believe you need that at times.”

            “I do,” Aragorn acknowledged, bowing his head as he thought.  It was quiet for a time as he made his decision.  He truly did want the healers to start their training and wondered if he was being selfish to take Nestad with him simply for his advice and counsel.  But, in his heart he knew he was not.  Aragorn needed someone older and wiser with him at this time and it would be foolish of him not to heed his uncle’s counsel.  Halhigal would have gone with him if he was not Aragorn’s appointed regent, but he was and so Nestad would go in his place.  The training of the healers would have to wait two years, it saddened him but there was nothing to be done for it now.  He raised his head and looked at his uncle before glancing at Nestad. 

           “I will take Nestad and Laegrist with me and we will leave the day after the wedding of Norgalad and Gaerwen.”

            “Good,” Halhigal said and Nestad nodded and smiled.

            “When did Norgalad say he would be here?” Ladreníl asked, a worried frown creasing his brow.

            “By the middle of the month, but he was most eager and could be here sooner,” Faelon answered for Aragorn.  The men chuckled briefly and exchanged knowing glances.

            “I have nothing further to discuss,” Aragorn said, “does anyone else?”

            The men shook their heads and they rose from their benches and headed outside into the warm sun of late morning.

0-0-0

            Thalion and his patrol arrived three days after Caladel’s patrol had gone and the day before Faelon and his men were to head north.  They arrived in mid-afternoon on a cloudy, windy day that had been threatening rain all day.  Aragorn looked the six men over as they dismounted and saw no signs of injuries and then he watched as they greeted their families.  He smiled as Hirgon tightly embraced Rían before picking up the twins, one in each arm, and held them close for a moment.  The two girls who had lost their mother and younger brother in the fire cried softly in the arms of their father and older brother.  And so it went. 

          Aragorn wanted to speak with Thalion about the patrol, but as he watched the patrol leader speaking with his wife and his son, Eradan, he knew it could wait until after supper and he turned to head home.  He had only gone a few steps, however when Thalion called to him.

          “Lord Aragorn! I must speak with you.”

          Aragorn turned, surprised at the urgency in Thalion’s voice.  “What is the matter, Thalion?”

            “I thought it best to tell you now that on the way here we stopped by Taurnand and,” Thalion grimaced and took a deep breath, “it’s been totally burned to the ground.”

            Stunned, Aragorn could only stare at him for a moment and then he shook his head.  “I do not know why I am surprised,” he said quietly.  “We knew it was a possibility, but…”  He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “I am sorry, Thalion,” he said grasping the man’s shoulder briefly.  “I am sure that was difficult for you and your men.”

            “It was, although we were glad that our families were here, my lord.  At least they were safe.”

            “Yes,” Aragorn did not add ‘for now’, although he wanted to.  Thalion knew it as well as he did. 

            “But,” Thalion added, “the village had been burned only a few weeks ago from what we could tell.  Maybe three weeks ago now and as we rode north we came across orc tracks three days ago.”  Aragorn frowned and his eyes glinted with anger.  “There were only five or six orcs, Hirgon couldn’t tell for sure, and they were more than a week old so we rode on here.  My biggest concern, besides the fact that there were orcs so close, was that the tracks led straight towards the Bruinen.”

            “Like the ones we saw last winter during the move,” Aragorn said with growing concern.  “Though this was well north of where we encountered them before.”

            “Yes, it is somewhat, but only a day or so further north.”

            Aragorn stared into the distance for a long moment before he spoke again.  “We cannot let them get away this time.  We have to go and hunt them down so they do not come here and threaten the village.”

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Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. I will TRY and answer everyone by email if I have an address.

Chapter 24

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            The area in front of the open gate was filled with men and horses as they prepared to ride out after the orcs.  Sunrise was only a few minutes away and it was cool in the pre-dawn light as men and boys hurried to and fro finding equipment and supplies and stuffing them into packs.  Aragorn stood off to the side keeping one eye on the preparations even as he spoke with Faelon, Halhigal, Nestad, and Thalion.

            “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Nestad asked with an uneasy expression on his face.

            Aragorn shook his head once again.  “No, I want you to stay and take care of your daughter and grandson.  Her wrist is badly broken and there are enough other men here right now that I do not need you to come this time.”  He clasped the healer’s shoulder briefly to acknowledge the man’s disappointment.  He turned to Thalion.

            “Hirgon, Laegrist, and Maldathor will lead us to where you spotted the tracks and from there, Gilost and I should have no difficultly following…”

            “That rain last night won’t help,” Halhigal interrupted.

            “It will make it more difficult,” the Chieftain acknowledged.  “However, I am sure we will find them.  Did you not say that Hirgon does well at tracking?” he asked looking at Thalion.

            “He does.  He’s the best tracker among my men,” Thalion replied.

            “Faelon can occasionally follow a track as well,” Aragorn said with a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at the older man.  Faelon snorted softly while the other men chuckled.

            “If Norgalad arrives while I am away, give him my apologies.  Tell him I will understand if he would rather not wait for my return but instead would have you hear his and Gaerwen’s vows,” Aragorn said to his uncle who nodded.  Seeing the Rangers now standing quietly by their horses and speaking to their families and one another, Aragorn began moving toward Alvist who was holding his horse.  “Farewell,” he said to the men as he took the reins from the boy, thanking him with a smile.  “We will return as quickly as we can, but…” he shrugged before he swung into the saddle.

            “May the Valar keep you safe, Aragorn,” Halhigal said in farewell, his words quickly echoed by the others.

            Nodding his thanks Aragorn reined his horse around and rode over to the seven men that were accompanying him and Faelon.  He looked them over briefly and at their acknowledgement that they were ready he led them through the gate.  They turned south, heading towards the destroyed village of Taurnand.  The men were somber as they rode through the woods on the beautiful spring morning.  Aragorn knew that the three men from Thalion’s patrol were tired and disappointed to be riding out again so soon.  But he needed them.  Daedaen, Gilost, Halbarad, and Remlas completed the large patrol group. 

            The woods were alive with birdsong and Aragorn breathed deeply of the cool morning air as they rode.  Occasional drops of water landed on him, rain left over from the night before that lingered on the fresh green leaves of the trees.  Squirrels chattered as they raced across the branches above them, stopping only to scold the Rangers who dared to invade their territory. 

           It was on days like this that Aragorn wished he was back in Imladris, wandering the gardens and the woods, seeking a place where he could sit and read a favorite book; or, to simply sit and ponder the future and what it might hold.  Well, he mused with an inward smile, at least he knew somewhat of that future now.  Still, he seldom had time to do those things anymore and it was something he missed.

           Shortly before noon Halbarad came trotting back from where he had been scouting ahead of the main patrol.  “A small group of riders is heading our way, Aragorn,” he reported briskly.  “I believe it’s a group of Rangers, but I couldn’t see them very well from where I was hidden and knew if I didn’t leave quickly they would see me.”

           “It is probably Norgalad,” Aragorn said glancing at Faelon who nodded.  “But… “  He turned to his men.  “Laegrist, Hirgon, Daedaen, and Gilost, go with Faelon to the other side of the trail.  The rest of you stay with me.  Wait for my signal, Faelon.”  The men swiftly divided into two groups and took their positions. They tied their horses well back from the trail before slipping into the bushes alongside the trail with bows in hand and swords loosened in their sheaths.  Time seemed to slow as they waited for the group of men to ride into view but it was less than ten minutes later that they heard the sound of approaching horses and the low murmur of voices.  As they rounded the slight bend in the trail, Aragorn relaxed at the sight of a group of Rangers riding into view.  He immediately recognized Norgalad and Tathor and three of the other men as members of Tathor’s patrol, but the sixth man was unknown to him. 

           Letting out a short Ranger call, Aragorn stepped out onto the trail and was quickly followed by Halbarad and the rest of the men.  Tathor and his men reined to a sudden halt and the Patrol Captain looked down at his Chieftain with dismay.  “It appears that I’m always going to be running into you unexpectedly, my lord.”

           Aragorn chuckled.  “Yes, it does.”  He gestured for him and his men to dismount.  “We may as well rest the horses and eat lunch and I need to speak with Norgalad.”  He turned his gaze on the groom for a moment who was looking at him with questioning, concerned eyes.

          “Is Gaerwen well?” Norgalad asked anxiously as he swung down off his horse.  “Did something happen to her?”  His gaze shifted to Gilost and he bit his lip nervously as he waited for one of them to respond.

          “She is quite well, Norgalad,” Gilost said smiling at his soon-to-be brother and clapping him bracingly on the back.  “She was making clothes and… things,” he shrugged dismissively, “and waiting impatiently for you to arrive.”

           Norgalad breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed somewhat before he remembered that Aragorn had wanted to speak with him.  He turned anxious eyes to his lord.  “My lord?”

           “Be at peace, Norgalad.  We will talk while we eat.” 

           Aragorn’s patrol retrieved their horses and they all moved a short distance off the trail.  Horses were tethered and saddles were loosened before the Rangers dug into their packs.  Cheese, dried meat, and fruit were taken out by most of the men and the men from Dolomar shared some of their fresh bread with those from Forntaur who had been traveling for more than a week.

          Noticing that Norgalad had not taken a bite of his food but was watching every bite that he took, Aragorn bit back a grin and took pity on the man.  “Eat, Norgalad,” he urged.  “I only wanted to tell you that I will not be back in Dolomar for some time.”  He again bit back the smile that threatened at the crestfallen look of the man.  “You do not have to wait for me, unless you want to.  Halhigal will hear your vows if you do not want to wait until I return.”  A small smile crossed Aragorn’s lips at Norgalad’s look of relief.  The Ranger reddened, however, at the light laughter and comments that came from the other Rangers. 

         “I…I will ask Gaerwen,” he finally replied.  “But, it would be such an honor to have you hear our vows, my lord.  How long will you be gone?”  He glanced at Gilost wondering if Gaerwen would insist on waiting for her brother to return before marrying him.

         “Where are you going?” Tathor asked.  “This is a large patrol and you have some different men with you than you had with you before.”

          “I hope to be back in ten days, Norgalad,” Aragorn answered the groom’s question first before turning to Tathor.  “We are going after some orcs that we think are across the Bruinen.  We first saw a small group of them last winter when we moved some of the people from Taurnand to Dolomar.  We could not pursue them because of the women and children we had with us.  But, Thalion’s patrol, that Hirgon, Laegrist, and Maldathor are a part of,” Aragorn indicated each man, “came across more tracks a few days ago.  The tracks lead to the river and, last winter at least, it appeared they crossed it.  We have to find them before they decide to come to Dolomar.”

          Tathor shook his head and mumbled something inaudible under his breath before looking back at Aragorn.  “Do you want us to go with you, my lord?” he offered.

          “No, go on to Dolomar.  You will go on to your patrol area from there?”

          Tathor nodded.  “Yes.  We will stay for the wedding and then head east.  I wanted to ask you about having Norgalad join one of the patrols from Dolomar now since he’s moving there.  It’s why I brought Baranor with me,” he indicated the Ranger that Aragorn did not know.  “He’s Nestad’s son-in-law and he’s been assigned to me,” he gave Aragorn a small smile.  “He asked to come because he wanted to see his family, if only for a short time.  I’m surprised Nestad isn’t with you.”

          “He would be, but his daughter broke her wrist quite severely two days ago and as I had enough men in the village for this patrol, I had him stay behind.  He will be very glad to see him, Nestad mentioned that it had been years since they last saw each other,” Aragorn said.  “Norgalad will join one of our patrols.  I just wish he had been here sooner, he could have gone with Caladel.”

          “Dorlas will return in a couple of months, Captain,” Faelon spoke up.  He glanced at Norgalad.  “I’m sure that Norgalad wouldn’t mind staying around Dolomar until then.”  Amused smiles and light laughter followed that comment. 

          “Probably not,” Aragorn agreed.  “Stay in Dolomar, then, Norgalad.”  Norgalad gave him a grateful smile as he nodded. 

          Glancing up at the sun and seeing it was past noon, Aragorn reluctantly got to his feet.  “We need to ride on,” he announced quietly. 

0-0-0

            The small fire was crackling and sparks were popping up and out of the small stone ring the Rangers had built to contain the flames.  Men kept an eye on the fire as they ate and talked, frequently brushing off sparks that landed on their clothes.  An occasional quiet curse, followed by chuckles from the others, would occur when an especially large spark would land on skin and could not be brushed off fast enough. 

          The men shared stories of their recent patrols as they ate; the Rangers of Thalion’s group had not seen a single orc and had only seen a couple of lone wolves – neither of which they killed – during the months they were gone.  They listened with shock as Gilost told them of the bandits that had been captured near the village and then of the orc attack as they took the men to Bree.  Halbarad joined in at that point, describing what had happened and how Faelon and his men had arrived in time to rescue them. 

          Aragorn mostly listened as the men talked, speaking briefly of the time in Bree and answering the questions that Laegrist and Maldathor occasionally asked him.  Hirgon remained silent for much of the evening.  But, then, so did Faelon.  In Aragorn’s eyes the older man seemed even quieter than usual and he appeared troubled in some way.  He spoke to him before the man headed for his bedroll.

          “What troubles you?” he asked in a low voice after pulling the older man aside.

          Faelon started, surprised that Aragorn had noticed his unease.  “I’m not sure,” he confessed after a moment.  “Something seems wrong about this.  If there are orcs this close to Dolomar they should have attacked.  They wouldn’t stay away,” he scowled, ‘it’s not in their nature to do that.”

          “Maybe they do not realize Dolomar is there,” Aragorn said without conviction knowing how unlikely that was.  “Or, perhaps, there are not enough of them to attack and take the village… like they wanted to do to Taurnand.  Maybe they are waiting for other orcs to join them.”

          “Perhaps,” Faelon grudgingly agreed.  “But if these are the same ones we saw last winter they’ve been waiting for a long time and orcs don’t usually do that.  I’d think they would come and raid and steal what they could at least.”

          Aragorn nodded.  “Yes, except they know that we would track them down and they would not be able to take the village.  Maybe the orcs that attacked us were on the way to join these and then they would have attacked Dolomar,” he said thoughtfully and with a grimace.

          Faelon paled as he considered that and he slowly nodded.  “Those orcs were going somewhere… not just looking for trouble… but they had a specific destination.”  He sighed and stared down at the ground for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet Aragorn’s eyes.  “It’s a… good thing you ran into them.  I don’t know if we would have caught up with them in time to stop them from doing considerable damage to the village and our people… my family.”  He visibly shuddered at the thought.

            “Yes, it is.”  Scowling, Aragorn ran his fingers through his hair as the thought of Dolomar in flames as Taurnand had been horrified him.  The thought of any of his people suffering like that appalled him, but more so for the people of Dolomar whom he had come to care for deeply in the time he had been with them.  He finally shrugged.  “We will probably never know their true intentions, but that is as good a guess as any.  Now get some rest.”  The Ranger nodded and headed off to sleep while Aragorn began his watch.

0-0-0-0-0

            Late in the afternoon on the third day out from Dolomar they arrived in the area where Thalion’s patrol had come across the tracks of the orcs.  Aragorn spoke quietly to Maldathor and gestured for him to take the lead.  The Ranger threaded his horse through the trees as he led the way to a spot a couple of miles further on and stopped near a small spring.  The spring burbled up out of the ground and created a small pool roughly ten yards around before it disappeared again into a pile of rocks.

            “We saw the tracks over there, my lord,” he pointed across the spring where knee high grass and wildflowers grew, well watered by the spring which continued its underground journey to the Bruinen on the gentle downward slope on that side of the pool.

            Aragorn looked at the grass, frowning.  None of it showed any signs of being disturbed recently.  Not that he really expected it to; it had been more than two weeks since the orcs had been there if Thalion’s estimate was correct.  He turned to his men.  “Gilost, Hirgon, come with me.  The rest of you eat something, we will probably ride on as soon as we find the tracks.” 

          He turned to Hirgon.  “You lead the way and, hopefully, between the three of us we can find some trace that was not washed away by the rain.”  Hirgon nodded and grunted an acknowledgement before walking away.  The Ranger had been quiet while on the patrol and any interaction that Aragorn had had with the man had contained a certain amount of stiffness on the part of Hirgon.  Aragorn remained somewhat wary of the man, but as long as the Ranger did his duty and obeyed the orders given him, then he was content to let him be.

          The three men stepped carefully around the pond and onto the rocks.  They stopped there and surveyed the area in front of them for any sign, but nothing was visible.

          “How did you ever find tracks before,” Gilost murmured.

          “It was mostly by chance,” Hirgon admitted.  “One of the horses wandered away and when Beraid went to retrieve it, he spotted the tracks.  The grass is longer than even a week ago,” he added with a scowl as he stepped off the rocks.

          Aragorn and Gilost followed several feet behind and to the sides of him, searching those areas.  After thirty minutes of searching, it was Gilost who found the first faint trace and he called to the others who quickly joined him.  It was the barest indentation in the still damp earth and the faint outline that might have been an orc boot, but that was all.  Sighing, Aragorn stood and looked around as he thought.  They were wasting time here and there was little chance of finding more tracks.   If their guess was correct then these orcs had continued to the Bruinen and crossed it.  Of course, they could not be sure of that without following the tracks.

          Gazing down the slope and into the trees, Aragorn saw that the tall grass and wildflowers continued for at least as far as he could see.  But he knew it would not last; the trees would stop the growth of the grass after a time.  Perhaps they should ride forward and hope to pick up the trail further ahead.  It was a risk, but one he knew they would have to take.

          “I think we will have to ride on and hope to find tracks further on in the woods.”  Gilost nodded and Hirgon narrowed his eyes and stared at the ground.  Aragorn turned to the rest of the men.  “Faelon!” he called, waving the man towards him.  Faelon jogged to his side.

          “Captain?”

          “Gilost found a partial track here, but it appears that most of the tracks have been washed away.  I think we need to ride on and try and pick up their trail further on.  What do you think?”  Aragorn watched him closely and there was no hesitation on Faelon’s part.

          “I agree; we are taking time that is better spent in pursuit.  I think we’ll come across the tracks soon enough.”

          Glancing up at the sun and seeing there were several hours before the sun set, Aragorn turned and headed back towards the horses.  “Perhaps we will find sign of them today if we hurry,” he said glancing back over his shoulder at the others.

          “We are going to ride on,” he announced to the rest of the men.  “We only found a partial track here, but if we ride on we hope to find more sign once we are in the woods and away from this tall grass and where, hopefully, the trees blocked the full force of the rain from wiping out all the tracks.”

          Aragorn took the reins of his horse from Halbarad who also handed him a chunk of cheese and some bread that was rapidly drying out.  “Thank you,” he said with a smile.

          “I filled your waterskin,” he indicated the one hanging from the saddle.  Aragorn smiled his thanks around the mouthful of food he was chewing. 

          “Do you think these are the same orcs as the ones we saw last winter or different ones,” he asked as he prepared to mount his horse.

          Swallowing and reaching for his waterskin, Aragorn shrugged.  “I know not.  I hope they are the same ones so that we only have to deal with a small group of them.”  He took a long drink of the cool spring water and re-plugged it before swinging up onto his horse.  “But, my fear is that these are different ones and that we are going to have to deal with many more orcs.  It is why I brought so many men.”  He reined his horse around to take the lead once again and Halbarad followed close behind.

          They rode swiftly for an hour until the tall grass thinned and gradually gave way to grass that barely covered the forest floor.  Slowing the horses to a walk, Aragorn had the men spread out in a long line… some quarter of a mile wide… to try and find some sign of the passing of the orcs.  They rode on silently for another hour, their attention fixed on the ground.  Laegrist and Remlas rode behind the rest of the men keeping watch for any danger in the woods around them.

          “My lord!” Gilost called from the right edge of the line.  “I’ve found them,” he said with a grin as Aragorn rode up to him.  He slid off his horse, tossing the reins to Halbarad as he landed.

          “Join us, Hirgon,” Aragorn ordered as he cautiously moved to Gilost’s side scanning the ground around the Ranger. 

          Gilost pointed out the faint traces of orc prints on the ground that were heading in the direction they had assumed they would be going – towards the Bruinen.

          “You have keen eyes,” Hirgon said with grudging respect as he glanced at the younger Ranger.  Gilost shrugged and looked at Aragorn who was following the trail with his eyes. 

          The orcs had made no attempt to hide their trail; it had only been foul weather that had hindered them thus far.  Now that they knew for certain where the orcs were headed, Aragorn wondered if they should abandon the trail altogether and head straight for the river.  It would take them longer if they closely followed the trail, but it would bring them to the exact point where the creatures had crossed the river.  Frowning, he turned and beckoned to Faelon.

          “Would you ride straight for the river or follow the tracks closely?”

          Faelon walked along the trail of the five orcs for several yards and then came back to his Chieftain.  “The tracks are headed straight for the Bruinen and I doubt they’d turn off somewhere now.”  He paused, thinking.  “There isn’t anything around here for them to attack.  I’d ride straight for the river.  We’ll be there by late tomorrow if we ride hard.”

          “That was my thought as well.”  Aragorn glanced up at the sun and turned to the other men.  “We will ride until full dark and leave early in the morning.  I want to cross the river a few hours before sunset.”  Nodding, the men remounted their horses and they headed off once again.

          It was full dark when they stopped and made camp in the lee of a small hill.  They lit no fire and the men ate a quick meal of dried meat, fruit, and bread before heading to their bedrolls.  Two men kept watch throughout the night, Aragorn and Halbarad drawing the final one before dawn.  It was dark under the trees, the full moon hidden behind the clouds that had blown in, and the two men moved carefully as they circled the camp.  Except for the normal nightly sounds of small animals and insects and the sounds of men and horses it was quiet and still in the woods around them.

          After a couple of circuits of the camp, Aragorn stopped and sat on a boulder, pulling out his pipe and stuffing it with pipeweed.  Halbarad soon joined him and he chuckled quietly when he saw what his cousin was doing.  “You’ve become a true Dúnedain,” he whispered as he pulled out his own pipe.

          “I have you to thank for it,” Aragorn retorted as he lit the pipe.  He was somewhat surprised at how comforting the habit had become and it amused him when he imagined what his brothers and father would say when they found out.

          “You’re welcome,” Halbarad grinned.  “Remember, it’s my duty to teach my Chieftain all that I can about our people and our ways.”

          Aragorn snorted softly but did not otherwise respond.  “This reminds me of a patrol I went on with Glorfindel,” he said instead. 

          “Were your brothers not with you?”

          “Yes, but Glorfindel led the patrol.  I had not been patrolling very long then and there were three other elves with us.  We were scouting north of Imladris in the foothills of the Misty Mountains when we came across the tracks of three orcs that were several days old.  It was autumn and the weather was cool and had rained since the orcs had passed, but we were still able to follow the trail.  At least for awhile,” Aragorn grimaced at the memory. 

          “You lost the trail?” Halbarad asked incredulously.  “Elves did?  You did?”

          “We did.  We followed them to a fast moving stream and all trace of them disappeared.  There were no tracks directly across the steam, although it appeared they had entered the water.  We searched for several miles up and down both sides of the stream and found no signs of them leaving the water.  None of us could understand it because they did not know we were behind them… at least they had no reason to know that since we were several days behind them.”

          “We even checked the trees above the stream to see if they had somehow leapt into a tree and scrambled out of the water that way even though that made no sense… orcs do not do that.  It was the most unusual thing I had ever seen up until that time in my life.  Especially watching the elves,” Aragorn grinned.  “They got more and more upset, although I doubt you would have even noticed for their expressions changed little.  They finally decided that the orcs had been swept downstream in the fast rushing water.  That perhaps the rain had raised the level of the stream enough to sweep them away.”  He shrugged, “It makes as much sense as anything, but I still wonder about it.”

          “Are you worried about that happening here?”

          “No, it has never happened since that time and it had never happened to Glorfindel or my brothers before.  In fact,” he smiled, “they placed the blame on my presence.”

          Halbarad laughed softly.  “It would be awful to be swept away in a river,” he commented, shuddering.

          “Do you not swim?”

          “Just a little, there is neither a river nor a lake near Dolomar,” he reminded Aragorn.  “Occasionally we would go to a small area in the swamp that had sort of a deep area where we learned to swim, but we had little time for such things.”

          “I learned to swim by the time I was four.  There was so much water in and around the buildings of Imladris that it would have been too dangerous not to teach me.”

          “Who taught you?  I doubt your naneth knows how to swim any better than my naneth does.”

          That gave Aragorn pause.  “She never did really swim with me,” he replied slowly.  “She would stay along the edge of the river while I swam and played.”  He smiled.  “I always thought she just didn’t want to get wet.  Ada and my brothers taught me to swim and I often played in the water for hours in the summer when I was young.  As I grew I discovered it was a wonderful way to cool off after training with elves for several hours.”

          Halbarad gave a wistful sigh and glanced off to the east.  “I suppose we should wake the others, it will soon be light enough to ride on.”  Aragorn nodded and they arose to start a new day.

0-0-0

            The Rangers rode hard throughout the cool spring day and finally reached the Bruinen a couple of hours before the sun set.  They stopped in the trees a hundred feet back from the water’s edge and watched the swiftly flowing river as they dismounted.  The area between the men and the river was open to the sky and rocks and broken tree limbs littered the ground. 

            Aragorn frowned as he studied the scene in front of him.  There had been a lot of snow during the winter and the river was high and murky with churned up dirt.  The horses would need to go down a small, steep bank to enter the water before crossing the wide river.  Across the river the bank was somewhat lower and appeared to be less steep.  He turned to Faelon and Maldathor.

            “Is there a ford nearby?  I do not like the look of the water.”

            Faelon shook his head and glanced at Maldathor. 

            “The only one that I know of is the one down at Taurnand.”

            Grimacing, Aragorn shook his head.  “We do not have that kind of time.  The only other ford I know of is up at Imladris and that is even further away.  We shall just have to cross here, then.”  He glanced at the two men who gave reluctant nods, evidently not liking the look of the river any more than he did.  Aragorn turned to the rest of the Rangers.

            “Who has not crossed a large river like this except at a ford?” his eyes strayed to Halbarad.

            “I have not,” Remlas answered immediately followed more slowly by Halbarad and, surprising to Aragorn, by Gilost as well.  He realized, then, that his normal patrol area took him far from the two largest rivers in Eriador.

            “Neither have I,” said Aragorn.  “Faelon will lead the way.  Halbarad, ride near Maldathor; Gilost, you stay with Hirgon; Remlas, ride close to Laegrist.”  He had deliberately placed each of the men from Dolomar with one of the men from Taurnand, assuming that those men could swim well since they lived right on the river.   As he looked out at the swiftly moving current, Halbarad’s words from their conversation the previous night came back to him and he felt uneasy.  “Daedaen, you and I will bring up the rear.  If any of you have rope, keep it near to hand.”

            Aragorn watched as Faelon carefully picked his way through the rocks, and the branches that had been swept downstream by the melting snow.  At the edge of the steep bank, Faelon paused and then turned and rode upstream for several yards before urging his horse down into the Bruinen.  Halbarad and Maldathor followed close behind the patrol leader.  There was then a gap of several horse lengths when Gilost’s horse balked at descending the bank, but soft words of encouragement brought the horse back under control and it entered the swiftly moving brownish colored water.  Remlas’s horse also hesitated at the edge but needed little urging to continue after the other horses.  None of the rest of the horses showed any hesitation.

            Guiding his own horse down the steep bank and into the river took all of Aragorn’s attention.  He could feel the slight trembling of the horse at the unevenness of the footing caused by the rocks of the riverbed and he spoke soothingly and patted its neck as he urged it on.  The horse responded to his voice and walked carefully after Laegrist’s horse. 

            The water rose quickly up his horse’s legs and was soon lapping at the soles of his boots.  Looking ahead to Faelon, Aragorn saw that he was almost halfway across the river.  The water was well above the older Ranger’s knees and Aragorn could tell his horse was going to have to swim and he swore softly under his breath.  He did not want them to be forced too far downstream – they might come too close to the area where the orcs had crossed.  But it could not be helped. 

            Feeling his horse slipping, Aragorn clenched his legs more firmly together to get a tighter grip on the animal who had just as quickly regained its footing.  He had not felt this uneasy on a horse for years – not since he was a boy and learning to ride.  Glancing ahead again he saw that Faelon, as well as Halbarad and Maldathor, had reached truly deep water and their horses were having to swim.  The strong current was pushing them swiftly downstream, but they were already nearing the far bank. 

          Setting aside thoughts of Halbarad’s words of the previous night, Aragorn looked at the rest of the men, his gaze lingering on Gilost whose horse was still giving him problems.  Even as he watched, the horse stopped and refused to go on.  Hirgon carefully guided his horse to the downstream side of Gilost’s and after speaking briefly to Gilost began gently pulling on the horse’s bridle to urge it on.  The horse took a few tentative steps before stopping once again.

          Remlas hesitated as he neared and at Hirgon’s impatient gesture he rode around the two men on the upstream side, closely followed by Laegrist.  Aragorn, however, stopped when he reached the two men, ignoring the glare of Hirgon.  He turned in his saddle and motioned for Daedaen to move past, but the older Ranger shook his head and stayed where he was a few yards behind them, his horse placidly looking back at Aragorn with big brown eyes.

          Glancing at Gilost, Aragorn saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes and he exchanged a quick look with Hirgon and knew he had also seen it.  Aragorn was no longer surprised that the horse had stopped.  Leaning out of his saddle towards the two men, he called out in a loud voice that he hoped could be heard over the sound of the rushing water.  “Hirgon, what do you suggest?  You have probably done this sort of thing before.”  Aragorn saw the quickly masked look of surprise but there was no answer as Gilost’s horse suddenly reared and then bolted forward taking all of them by surprise - Gilost most of all.

          The Ranger fell back and off his horse, his right foot caught in the stirrup for only a few seconds.  But that was long enough to drag him through the water and away from the others.  Gilost reached desperately for his horse, but it was just out of reach and the current began pulling the man downstream and dragging him under.  Their cries of alarm had alerted those ahead of them who turned, but could do nothing to help. 

          Hirgon reacted first, kicking his horse after Gilost who had come up sputtering and spitting out the foul, bitter water.  He instinctively swam for shore, though his flailing arms were largely ineffective against the swiftly flowing river and he cried out in pain as he struck hidden rocks as he was swept downstream.

          Aragorn and Daedaen followed behind Hirgon, but Aragorn’s mind was searching desperately for other solutions because all of their horses were struggling in this water and he knew they would never be able to catch Gilost.  He saw that Hirgon had a rope out and watched as he threw it towards the struggling Ranger, but it fell well short of him.  Gilost suddenly slowed and stopped.  Aragorn could see that he was clinging desperately to something hidden under the water – a rock or log he assumed.  But he could not hold on long enough for them to reach him.  The force of the water loosened his grip and he had to let go.

          That short delay, however, was enough time for the men who had already crossed – Faelon, Halbarad, and Maldathor – to finish their desperate dash down the riverbank to get ahead of Gilost.  Maldathor shouted instructions to the other two men and, without hesitating, the three men rode back into the river determined to rescue Gilost.  Upstream, the rest of the men had stopped their rather reckless pursuit downstream and were urging their horses to the river’s edge. 

          Maldathor and Faelon separated, Maldathor plunging straight out into the river while Faelon veered off downstream - Halbarad following after Faelon.  Maldathor had his rope in hand and, standing in his stirrups briefly, he flung the quickly knotted end of the rope out towards Gilost.  It fell a few feet short, but the Ranger saw it and lunged desperately for it catching the end of it with the tips of his fingers.  His desperate lunge caused him to briefly go under the water but he came up with the rope firmly clenched in his right hand.  Maldathor immediately wrapped the rope around the pommel of his saddle and tried backing his horse away, but the horse refused and he had to slowly turn the horse around to draw the line taut.

          Keeping one eye on Gilost, and shouting at Faelon to stay where he was, Maldathor slowly made his way back towards the riverbank.  On the other end of the rope, Gilost was barely able to hang on and he fought hard to reach up and grab the line with his left hand as well, finally succeeding after several attempts.  The current continued to pull at Gilost even as Maldathor rode to the shore and Faelon and Halbarad stayed downstream of the endangered Ranger in case he could not hold on. 

          The rest of the Rangers thundered into view on the bank above them and leapt from their horses.  Aragorn gave quick orders for a fire while he motioned Hirgon and Laegrist to the river’s edge.  The men stood there watching helplessly as Gilost was slowly dragged through the water towards the shore.  Maldathor soon rode ashore and up the bank past them still pulling the Ranger behind him.  Finally, Gilost was close enough that the two men rushed out into the cold water and grabbed him; loosening their grips slightly as he winced in pain.

          Daedaen, and Remlas frantically looked for dried bedrolls or clothing on any of the horses while Aragorn set a couple of pots of water on to boil before searching through his pack of healing supplies.  He was grateful once again that his pack was as thoroughly waterproof as was possible and that nothing inside his pack was even damp.  Thousands of years of experience gave the elves much practical knowledge of such things.  Knowing his clothing would also be dry, he directed the two Rangers to his horse.  He wished he could say the same for his bedroll, but it was not encased in a pack; instead the blankets were simply tied to the back of his saddle – as were all the other men’s.

          Glancing down at the water, Aragorn saw that Hirgon and Laegrist had succeeded in bringing Gilost to the riverbank and he sighed in relief.  He watched with narrowed eyes as they spoke to him and saw Gilost coughing and spitting out water as he tried to struggle to his feet.  As he was about to run down to the water to tell Gilost to let the men carry him, Faelon rode up and spoke sternly to the younger man who stopped struggling and let the men carry him up to the fire.

          “Get his clothes off,” Aragorn ordered as they gently laid him down on a pile of clothing.  As Gilost’s clothes were being removed, Aragorn looked around and saw that Faelon was directing the men in setting up the camp and gathering more wood and he turned back to his patient with a reassuring smile.  “You will be all right, Gilost,” he said as the last of his clothing was removed and dry clothes were placed over him.  Aragorn looked up at Hirgon and Laegrist.

          “We need more water if you can find a spring nearby.”  Aragorn knew that everyone would need hot drinks and something hot to eat that night.  The two men nodded and, gathering the waterskins Aragorn had emptied into the pots, hurried away.  He turned back to his patient who had closed his eyes and was very still. 

          “Is there any one place that hurts more than any other?” he asked.

          The Ranger started to shake his head and then stopped with a small cry of pain.  “I don’t think anything is broken if that’s what you’re asking,” he whispered opening pain-filled eyes and looking up at his Chieftain.  “But, I hurt in lots of places on my arms and legs,” he grimaced, “and the back of my head.”  He coughed harshly and groaned at the pain that caused.

            “Do you need help, Aragorn?” Halbarad asked as he crouched down beside them.  “Faelon thought you might need some and I’ve helped my naneth occasionally.” 

          Aragorn nodded but did not take his eyes off of Gilost as he began examining the Ranger.  Starting with his head he carefully felt all around his skull for possible fractures and he breathed a small sigh of relief when he felt none.  There was a shallow gash on the back of Gilost’s head that would need stitches, however.  “Does this hurt?” Aragorn asked softly as he carefully moved his fingers around the injured man’s neck, pressing lightly in different places.

          “No.”

          “Good.”  The worst of his concerns laid to rest, Aragorn turned to the numerous scraps and bruises that he knew were on the rest of Gilost’s body.  While he knew none of them were life-threatening, they were certainly painful... and would be for several days.  “Halbarad, pour some of the hot water into a couple of bowls.”

          Taking the bowl of hot water from Halbarad, Aragorn noticed that his cousin was trembling slightly and he gave him an appraising look before turning away from Gilost to wash his hands in the hot water.  “Are you cold, Halbarad or is something else troubling you?” he whispered.

          “I am cold,” he whispered back as he handed his Chieftain a cloth that was damp from the river.  “But,” he paused.  “You must teach me how to swim better, Aragorn.”  His eyes were wide with fear for a brief moment as he looked at Aragorn, but his expression quickly became impassive as he glanced around at the other Rangers.

          “I will,” Aragorn promised quietly before handing him the bowl he had been using.  “Clean this out and fill it with more water.”  He turned back to Gilost.  Carefully and gently he began cleaning each of the various scrapes on Gilost’s body.  Besides the gash on the back of his head, there was also a long shallow cut on his left forearm that needed stitches.  The willow bark tea Aragorn had given him helped with some of the pain, but the Ranger still grimaced and moved uneasily from time to time as his wounds were tended to.

          Faelon appeared and crouched down next to Gilost and laid a reassuring hand lightly on his shoulder.  “How does he fare, Captain?”

          “He is in considerable pain, but otherwise he is doing quite well.”

          Gilost opened his eyes and looked up at Faelon.  “I’m all right and the pain isn’t too bad.”  Aragorn snorted softly but said nothing as he continued stitching.  “Where is Suldal?” Gilost suddenly cried.  He tried to sit up but Aragorn pushed him gently back to the ground.

          “He is with the other horses.  He was fine once he left the water and he followed us here,” Aragorn said with a reassuring smile.  He turned his gaze to Faelon as the Ranger spoke.

          “They found a spring about half a mile away.”

          “Good, we will need it.”

          “I think we should move the camp there, this area is too open.”

          Aragorn paused and looked around for a moment.  They were barely inside the first row of trees and, with the fire, they would be easily visible to anyone across the river.  He was not sure how far downstream they had come, but he knew they had to be drawing close to the place where the orcs had crossed.  “Leave Halbarad and…” he glanced around, “Daedaen with us and go and set up camp.  That will give me time to finish up here and by the time we arrive you should have a fire going.  He is going to need one tonight.  We all need one.”

          “Just to dry out our clothes,” Faelon agreed.  “Do you want a litter?”

          Gazing down at Gilost for a moment and assessing the injuries he had, Aragorn slowly shook his head.  “No, I think he can walk with our help, and if not, we will carry him.  It is not that far.  He will actually be much sorer in the morning.”  Gilost groaned.  Faelon gave the younger Ranger a sympathetic smile and walked away to take care of moving the camp.

          “Rinse out this bowl and fill it with the rest of the water.” Aragorn handed a bowl to Halbarad who had been silently sitting next to him and had handed him water and bandages as he needed them.  “How long have you had Suldal, Gilost?” he asked as he wrapped the last bandage around a deep scrape on the Ranger’s shin.

          “A couple of years, but I’ve never tried to cross a river like that before.”  Gilost paused briefly and then his eyes widened in fear as he looked up at his Chieftain.  “We have to cross this again to get home.”

          “We do.  But do not concern yourself with that right now, there are other ways and places to cross this river.”  Aragorn ignored the expression on Halbarad’s face, but he wondered if Daedaen noticed it, though the older Ranger made no comment.

          “You two get him dressed while I clean up my supplies.”  It was a slow process to get the injured Ranger into the dry clothes as the two men carefully maneuvered the driest clothing they had over the scrapes and bandages that dotted Gilost’s body.  When they were finished, they poured dirt and sand on the fire and checked it thoroughly to make sure it was completely out before they left for the new camp.  Gilost leaned heavily on Halbarad with his arm across his shoulder as they slowly walked through the woods in the growing darkness.  Remlas, who was on watch, met them halfway to the camp and led them the rest of the way.

          The men had made a place for Gilost close to the fire and he was soon settled down into it with the driest blankets that they had.  Laegrist brought him a cup of broth and, much to his embarrassment, helped him drink it.  As he finished the warm soup made from the dried meat they carried, Gilost lay back with a weary sigh and closed his eyes.  He fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.

          “Is anyone else injured?” Aragorn asked looking around the fire.  He did not really think that anyone else was injured, but things had happened so quickly and he knew that sometimes people did not realize they were injured until things calmed down.  There was a general shaking of heads and murmurs of no. 

          “Thank you,” he said to Maldathor as the Ranger handed him a steaming mug of tea and a bowl of soup.  He greedily began eating the soup realizing just how cold he was in his wet clothes and he inched closer to the fire.  There was no help for it, though.  Gilost was wearing his spare clothing and the injured man needed them more than he did.

          “What will we do in the morning, Captain?” Faelon asked glancing quickly at Gilost and then back at his Chieftain.  “Will we be able to move on?”

          Aragorn took several more sips of tea before he answered so that he could think about what would be best to do.  “Gilost could ride on if we had to,” he replied.  “However, I think that we are probably close to the area where the orcs crossed the river.  A couple of men will stay here with him while the rest of us go and look for any sign of their crossing.  Once we find their trail we will decide if we should go on tomorrow or wait another day.  It will give Gilost at least a few more hours of rest.”  Faelon and the other men nodded.

          “We can all use the rest,” Faelon said as he glanced around at the rest of the Rangers.  “I know I’m tired,” he yawned.

          Biting back a smile, Aragorn echoed the patrol leader’s words.  “I am as well.  Set the watches and wake me if you notice Gilost moving about too much.  He may need more willow bark tea.” 

          With quiet murmurs the men settled down to sleep, huddled close to the fire and to each other to keep warm without their blankets and with their still damp clothing clinging to them.  But, none of that mattered because they were grateful that what could have been a horrible tragedy had been narrowly averted.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers – J. and Marsha

Author notes: I’m sorry for the very long delay, though I cannot promise that it wouldn’t happen again for the next, and final, chapter. Real life and issues that are explained in the author note at the end of this chapter are to blame. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 25

Maldathor and Remlas stayed behind in the camp to watch over a still sleeping Gilost as the rest of the Rangers headed off into the woods in the cool morning air. Deciding that they would move more quickly and quietly on foot in the rocks and debris that lined the banks of the river, Aragorn left the horses behind as well. Grey clouds hung low in the sky overhead allowing only a few weak rays of the sun to pierce the gloom as the five Rangers followed Aragorn as he headed back towards the Bruinen. It was light enough that the orcs should have denned up for the day, although he knew a sentry would have been posted and the men moved quietly and cautiously as they made their way through the woods.

Aragorn frowned as they arrived back at the river’s edge. The thought of what had almost happened still gnawed at him, but he pushed those thoughts firmly to the back of his mind to focus on what he needed to do. He kept Hirgon and Halbarad close to him as they crept downriver with bows in hand. Faelon, Daedaen, and Laegrist trailed them but kept back away from the river and just inside the tree line. Half a mile from where they had pulled Gilost from the water they found the orc tracks. While the most recent tracks showed the five orcs they had been following, it was obvious that the place had often been used as a crossing for orcs. Faint traces of older tracks remained, scattered in different places along the bank. The tracks led into the woods, but the trail angled downriver.

“We’re fortunate they didn’t hear us last night,” Hirgon commented in a low voice as they picked their way through the rocks following the trail into the woods.

“We are,” Aragorn agreed as he crouched down to study one of the older tracks and compare it to the freshest one only an inch or two away. “Are these the same?” He was trying to determine if they would be facing only the five orcs or, perhaps, many more of the creatures.

“I don’t know,” Hirgon admitted after a moment’s study. “It’s similar, but this one,” he pointed to the oldest track, “has worn away so much that I can’t tell if the heel of the boot is the same.”

Aragorn sighed. “That is my thought as well.” He glanced at Halbarad who gave a somewhat hesitant nod of agreement. The three men continued quickly along the trail, which the orcs had made no effort to hide, until they reached the trees. Aragorn signaled for the other men to join them so he could speak with Faelon.

“These orcs are in no hurry now,” Faelon said studying the tracks as he crouched down next to Aragorn.

“No, they are not. Either they feel safe because they have crossed the river or because they are near their den.”

“Or both,” Faelon added. “Are we going on or back to camp?” he asked in a low voice.

Glancing at the sun, though there was little need to do so for he knew less than an hour had passed since they had left camp, Aragorn scowled down at the tracks. He did not like the thought of leaving only the three men in camp with orcs in the area – especially with one of his men injured. But he needed to find the orc den and this early in the day would be the best time to seek them out. He turned his gaze back to Faelon.

“We will go on and see if we can find their den. If we do not find it in two hours, we will return.”

“And if we do find their den?” Faelon asked.

“We will decide what to do then. It will depend on what we find… what the den is like and how many orcs we think might be there. I am uneasy about lingering here any longer than necessary. I do not think these orcs will stay here long.”

Faelon nodded. “And they will likely pick up our scent if we stay this close to their trail. I think you should send someone back to tell Maldathor what we’re doing. It won’t take long and it will ease their worries when we don’t return as quickly as we said.” Aragorn nodded and they sent Laegrist back to the camp. As soon as the Ranger returned, they cautiously moved on.

Aragorn led the Rangers through the woods alongside the trail that the orcs had evidently been using for quite some time and he briefly wondered once again what had drawn them to this area. The forest floor on this side of the river had more bushes and ground cover than the western side, but still less than the area around Dolomar. He grew increasingly concerned that if the orcs had their den in the hills they were nearing - which seemed likely - they could easily be seen as they approached.

It was a faint noise that alerted Aragorn that the orcs were near. He froze and tried to locate where the noise was coming from. Glancing at the rest of the men he was not surprised to see that none of them appeared to have heard the faint snarling voices. He had realized some time before that his hearing was somewhat keener than his men’s. Aragorn thought his years in Imladris living amongst elves, whose hearing was so much better than his own, had forced him to pay close attention to his surroundings and to details that other men might miss. He turned to Faelon.

“There are orcs a short distance ahead. I think just beyond where the trail bends,” he said in a low voice as he pointed ahead.

“Do you hear something?”

Aragorn nodded. “It is very faint but, yes, I can hear orcs speaking. Only two, I think.” Faelon shook his head slightly.

“What would you have us do?”

Studying the trees ahead and the area around them while he thought, it took Aragorn only a moment to decide. “I believe it would be best if we circle well around and come at them from the other side. If I was on guard duty, I would be most closely watching this trail and would be less concerned about the other side.”

“Unless the other side has a trail leading away from here,” Faelon pointed out.

“It is not a perfect plan,” Aragorn conceded. “But… “ he shrugged, “we need to see what is there and I do not like the looks of this,” he gestured to the sharp bend in the trail around which they could see nothing.

Faelon nodded, “No,” he said slowly as he nodded his head, frowning. “Does… does this seem like a place they would have their den? It doesn’t seem rocky enough to have caves and I think if they’ve been here for as long as we suspect they would have more than just a crude shelter.”

Aragorn looked around the area once again and realized Faelon was right. While they had been slowly climbing as they left the river, it had been a gradual incline and they did not appear to be close enough to the hills to have reached any sort of rocky outcroppings that would suggest the presence of a cave. He shook his head.

“Perhaps it is simply a guard post, then, and the den is further away,” he said, frowning. That would make things much more difficult for they would then have to deal with two groups of orcs at the same time and it would split his already small number of men even further. Aragorn gave a small shrug, “Well, we cannot tell what it is from here, come.”

Gesturing for the Rangers to follow, Aragorn led the way slightly back down towards the river on a course that took them roughly parallel to the trail but well away from it. However, he could still occasionally hear the faint voices of the orcs as he and his men crept through the bushes. Ten minutes later they stopped and Aragorn gathered the men around him.

“Faelon, take Daedaen with you and head about fifty yards to my right before starting back towards where the trail should be. Hirgon, I want you and Laegrist to stay between me and Faelon. Signal if you see any sign of the den and I will respond. If you only see the guard post, then wait and give me the details when we meet back here again. I do not want to risk more signaling or movement in front of the guards than is absolutely necessary.” The two Rangers nodded. “Do not stay overly long, but scout the area as thoroughly as possible.” He paused and gave each of the men an intent look. “I do not know if you will need to cross the trail, but if you do, be very careful. I do not want to engage the enemy now.”

“Perhaps we should,” Hirgon said. “They’ll be sleeping now.”

“Yes, I have considered that, but I would first like to know how many we will be facing.”

“We may not be able to find that out,” Hirgon responded with a slight scowl.

“I know, but we will try nonetheless.” Aragorn said. Hirgon dropped his gaze and gave a single, abrupt nod.

Faelon gestured to Daedaen and the two of them melted off into the woods followed almost immediately by Hirgon and Laegrist. Aragorn glanced at Halbarad. “Keep to my left,” he directed before he started to move. A hand on his arm stopped him.

“What will you do if you cannot see how many orcs there are?” Halbarad asked.

“My sense is that there are not more than twenty of the creatures or else the tracks we have seen would have been even more distinct, or there would have been more of them. But, no matter how many orcs there are, we must destroy them. If we cannot see them, then we will simply have to be more cautious in our planning and try to plan for every possible response the orcs might make depending on the numbers they have.” He gave Halbarad a grim smile. “It is something I have done before, the first time was several years ago and I was with my brothers at the time. They did try to help me plan,” he added almost absently.

“I assume you defeated the orcs and your plan worked,” there was a hint of question in Halbarad’s voice.

“We did defeat the orcs in the end, but my plan did not work well and I was fortunate to be with elves and not with men or people would have died. Elladan and Elrohir spent a long time with me later explaining what I had done wrong and how I should have set up the ambush.”

“Why did they not tell you about it before you attacked?”

“They knew they could overcome the flaws in my plan with little danger to themselves and that I would best learn from my mistake by watching it unfold,” Aragorn shrugged. “And, I did. However, you will have to learn by listening to me and Faelon as we make plans. Now, come, we have lingered here far too long.”

They slowly and cautiously made their way through the woods. The voices of the orcs had ceased some time before and Aragorn wondered if they had heard or seen something stirring in the woods. As they neared the area where the trail should be located, they began to crawl, finally stopping when they reached the trail. Aragorn exchanged a quick, somewhat relieved glance with Halbarad as he pressed his body into the ground amongst the dense bushes.

Across the trail from them and to their right was a small clearing and there was indeed a cave of sorts. It was more an opening into the hillside that had evidently been started when a large tree had been blown over. The uprooted tree was still lying there with dirt clinging to its mass of roots. Much of the tree had been hacked away, probably to be used for the fire. The hole that the fallen tree had left behind appeared to have been enlarged to make a den for the orcs. That the orcs had used the area for some time could be seen by the tramped down grass and bushes, the dying trees they had hacked into, and the piles of filth lying scattered about.

As Aragorn took in the encampment he tried to imagine how many orcs might fit into the cave, which he could only see into a little way. He doubted it would be too large simply because he did not believe the orcs would be willing to dig very deeply into the hillside which meant there probably were not an overwhelming number of orcs inside it. Swallowing the relieved sigh he wanted to release, he gazed around searching for the sentries he had heard earlier. Halbarad’s slight gesture took his attention to the far left of the camp where Aragorn could just make out two orcs lounging under the low hanging branches of a large fir tree. The dim light they were standing in made it impossible for Aragorn to see anything other than their general size and shape.

A bird call that was just slightly different than the others that filled the air caught Aragorn’s attention and he recognized it as Laegrist’s voice. He whistled the calls that signaled he had seen what they were searching for and would return to their meeting place. After one last look around the area to memorize the location of trees, bushes, and rocks, Aragorn eased back away from the bush he was hiding behind and he and Halbarad began their cautious way back.

Aragorn and Halbarad were the first to arrive, but the other two groups quickly joined them. Faelon and Daedaen had discovered that the trail had narrowed and then ended not far past the clearing at a small spring. Hirgon and Laegrist had not seen anything different than what he had seen.

Frowning down at the ground as he thought, Aragorn turned the various options over in his mind. The six of them could attack now, but he did not like the idea of going into the cave where the orcs had the advantage with their superior vision in the dark. Of course, he and his Rangers would have the advantage of surprise, but without knowing the layout of the cave they could be trapped too easily, especially with an unknown number of orcs inside. He felt it was just too much of a risk.

The other choice was to come back near dusk and to ambush the orcs as they left their den. While the orcs would still have some advantage with their eyesight, if it was planned right and the orcs left the cave while there was still some light, Aragorn thought they could overcome that by the use of their bows. He would much rather fight the orcs in the open than in the confines of the cave. His decision made, he turned to his men.

“We will return to camp and come back here late this afternoon,” Aragorn said decisively. Seeing no questions from the others he led them back to camp. The return trip was much quicker – a little more than an hour – as they went directly to the camp instead of following the trail back down to the river.

Gilost was sitting by the small fire drinking hot tea when they arrived. After seeing that Maldathor and Remlas were nearby – caring for the horses – Aragorn joined him at the fire. “How do you fare?” he asked as he carefully looked Gilost up and down. Most of the man’s wounds were under his clothing making it difficult to check them at a glance. His battered hands were still swollen, but at least he was able to use them.

“I’m sore,” he admitted as he stared into the fire.

Aragorn could sense his embarrassment. “I would imagine so. Have you been up and walking around?”

“Yes. Did you find the orcs?” he finally looked up as he tried to change the subject.

“Yes. Where do you hurt the most?” Aragorn returned to the previous subject, hiding the smile that threatened at Gilost’s chagrined look. He glanced sidelong at some of the other men who had joined them and had begun to eat. None appeared to be paying attention to him and Gilost, however Aragorn knew they were listening to everything that was being said.

Gilost let out a soft sigh. “I don’t really know if one place is worse than any other, Captain. Maybe my head and arm where the stitches are, but I’m sore everywhere. But,” he hastened to add with an earnest, imploring look at Aragorn, “I can still fight the orcs. It’s not that bad, my lord.”

“I am sure that you could fight if it was necessary, but I need someone to stay here and guard the horses and I will leave you and Maldathor to do that,” he glanced at Maldathor who gave him a single nod in acknowledgement. Aragorn had decided that he would risk leaving the horses with only two guards in order to have one more man with him when they attacked the orcs. The camp was in a well-sheltered location and unless additional orcs crossed the river and stumbled upon them, they should be safe until the rest of them returned. However, he had decided to leave the older and more experienced Maldathor with the injured Gilost.

“Yes, my lord,” Gilost said with a grimace.

“I will make you some willow bark tea if you need something for the pain,” Aragorn offered.

“Maldathor made me some a little while ago.”

“Good,” he shot the older Ranger a small smile, “then I will leave you in peace while I eat.” He gently patted Gilost on the shoulder as he stood. Beckoning to Faelon and Halbarad, Aragorn pulled them aside and they planned the ambush as they ate.

0-0-0-0-0

Aragorn was uneasy as they lay in wait for the sun to set and the orcs to emerge from their den. Not knowing how many orcs were in there weighed heavily on his mind even as he tried to push those thoughts away. He knew there was nothing they could have done differently and that they were as prepared as they could be, but it did not stop him from worrying. He also knew that as soon as the battle started all such thoughts would disappear from his mind. Waiting for a battle to start was one of the hardest things he had to do, even more so now that he was a leader and he had time to second guess his plans.

The plan was really very simple. The seven Rangers were spread out along the trail facing the orc den with bows in hand. When it appeared that no more orcs were leaving the cave, Aragorn would signal them to shoot. Hopefully, that would take care of all of the orcs but none of them thought that it would be that easy. They did hope, however, that the orcs would not have their bows nearby and if, as they expected, the orcs hid behind the various rocks and fallen trees, then the men would be able to move forward and engage them with their swords before it grew too dark to see.

Glancing to his left, Aragorn realized dusk had fallen quickly and he could now barely make out the rough outline of Halbarad some ten feet away. Beyond his cousin were Daedaen and Faelon; to Aragorn’s right lay Laegrist, Remlas, and Hirgon. Noise in the orc’s camp caught his attention and he shifted his gaze to see that the sentries were moving from their spot beneath the trees. One began stirring up the fire while the other moved slightly to the side to relieve himself. The orc at the fire looked up and barked at him, Aragorn assumed he was cursing at him but he had no knowledge of the Black Speech. In any case, the orc growled right back at the first orc before stomping over towards the cave.

As he passed the orc at the fire, the second orc slapped him alongside the head with another threatening growl. Jumping to his feet, the orc quickly had his large hands wrapped around the other’s throat and the two fell to the ground yelling and growling as they rolled on the ground punching and biting each other.

Aragorn watched the two in awed amazement. He had never before seen orcs fight each other like this, though he had often heard them yelling what seemed to be curses at each other. It was so hard to tell what sort of things they might be saying since their language sounded so harsh. Another voice broke into the din as a large orc came out of the den and bellowed at the two orcs. They paid him no heed and he shoved two orcs that had followed him from the cave towards the orcs on the ground. Aragorn tightened his grip on his bow and began watching the entrance of the cave as the quarreling orcs were pulled apart.

More orcs came rushing from the cave and he carefully counted them even as he noted that none of them had bows, though most had swords in hand. Probably because they were uncertain of the cause of the disturbance, Aragorn thought. Raucous laughter filled the air over something that was said or done but Aragorn kept his eyes fixed on the cave entrance. There were nineteen orcs in the clearing when it appeared the last of them had left the cave. Several minutes had gone by without any other orcs appearing and Aragorn decided not to wait any longer. Night was quickly approaching and the orcs were still milling about… they could easily be heading off into the woods at any time.

Pursing his lips, Aragorn made the call to attack before quietly getting to his feet and, making sure he was hidden behind the tree as much as possible, he loosed his first arrow. He aimed for the leader and swore softly under his breath when the large orc turned slightly and his arrow pierced it’s right shoulder instead of it’s heart. Screams of rage and pain burst from the orcs as those still alive scrambled for cover behind the nearest shelter. Aragorn saw at least five orcs fall to their death from the first volley of arrows and more died or were wounded as each Ranger shot another arrow before all of the creatures made it to cover.

Knowing that full dark would be upon them soon, and that the orcs were confused and off balance, Aragorn gave the call to advance. He shouldered his bow before pulling his sword and advancing on the clearing. Moving slowly he kept a wary eye on the orcs while at the same time he watched for the rest of his men to join him as he crossed the trail. Seeing that they were with him, he quickened his pace and was quickly in the midst of the camp.

The orcs had recovered from their initial shock and as the Rangers appeared, they leapt to their feet snarling and growling with swords or knives in hand. The largest orc, still with Aragorn’s arrow sticking from his shoulder, barked what sounded like orders to the ten or so orcs who were able to fight and they formed a semi-circle around the leader.

Aragorn was surprised at such behavior from orcs who usually fought strictly for themselves in this sort of battle. He wondered if there were some secret this orc carried, and what hold he had over the rest of the orcs to bend him to his will in such a manner. However, having all of the orcs in one place made it easier for him and his men, especially as they were near the fire and the additional light was helpful.

The ringing sounds of steel meeting steel filled the air as the two sides came together in a furious clash of strength and fury. The orcs growled, snarled, and cursed at the Rangers as they fought while the men were silent as they concentrated on simply killing those they faced. Though, as they fought they were aware of the need to keep the orcs in the camp and to let none of them escape into the woods – either to get help from other orcs who might be close by or to attack Maldathor and Gilost.

As Aragorn battled a surprisingly skilled orc he saw, from the corner of his eye, Hirgon and Remlas each kill an orc and rush the leader of the orc troop. He focused back on his own fight and with a slight scowl he finally thrust aside the orc’s rusted sword and plunged his sword into it’s heart. Jerking the sword back out, he watched impassively as the creature fell to the ground. Glancing quickly around the clearing, Aragorn’s eyes were drawn to the cave and a slight movement he saw within the darkness. Was it only the light from the fire reflecting off some piece of metal or was there something hiding in the darkness? He stared intently, forgetting, for a brief moment, the still ongoing battle.

“Look out!”

Aragorn was roughly shoved in the back and he stumbled away, although he did not fall. He heard a loud yelp of pain, and turning watched in horror as an orc began to lower his blade towards Halbarad who was lying on the ground – obviously injured in some manner. Before Aragorn could reach the two of them, however, his cousin somehow found the strength to lift his sword and ram it deeply into the orc’s stomach. Black blood spurted out all over Halbarad’s face and upper body, but the force of the blow and the depth of the wound were enough to cause the orc to stagger backwards and it fell to the ground clutching its stomach and howling in pain as life began to seep from him.

Ignoring the dying orc, Aragorn raced to Halbarad who was struggling to sit up and wipe the sticky blood from his face at the same time.

“Let me help,” Aragorn cried as he dropped to his knees beside his cousin who was coughing and spitting out the foul black blood that had made it into his mouth. He quickly glanced over Halbarad for the source of his pain as he tore off a piece of his shirt. Pausing at the sight of red blood flowing from a long gash in Halbarad’s upper leg he swore softly before he turned back to look at his cousin and gently pushed him back to the ground. “Stay still,” he ordered gently, but firmly.

Halbarad shook his head and continued to try to sit up. Aragorn pushed him more firmly to the ground as he frantically looked around, finally remembering the battle. It was too dark now to see very far, but he could neither see nor hear any more orcs and he let out a sharp breath of relief as he turned his attention back to Halbarad. Grabbing his waterskin, he poured water on the torn piece of cloth and handed it to Halbarad before moving down to examine his leg.

“You should not have done that,” he scolded his cousin as he ripped and pulled back the torn legging from around the wound.

“What? Saved you from being killed?” Halbarad responded with a half smile that quickly turned to a grimace as Aragorn prodded the area around the injury.

“No, shoved me in the back,” he retorted. “It hurt.” The small smile on his lips did not reach his eyes as he guiltily remembered his distraction, which had caused Halbarad to have to rescue him and brought this pain to his cousin.

Halbarad chuckled briefly before clenching his teeth against the throbbing pain in his left leg.

“How is he, Captain? Do you need help?” Faelon asked as he and Daedaen crouched down next to them with a small burning branch in hand. Faelon laid a comforting hand on Halbarad’s shoulder.

“He is going to need quite a few stitches,” Aragorn replied as he glanced at the two men. “It is not too deep, but it is long.” He paused in his attempt to staunch the flowing blood to show them the gash. “Did any of the orcs escape? Is anyone else wounded?” he asked, glancing around the clearing once again, but all he could see were the dim shadows of his men reflected by the fire as they checked the cave and the bodies of the orcs.

“No one else has even a scratch, and we killed them all,” Faelon replied with a grim smile of satisfaction. “Do you want to move him to the fire?” he indicated Halbarad.

Aragorn thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No. I am going to simply cover and bind this and wait to clean and stitch it when we are back at camp. This place is filthy.” He indicated the refuse scattered in the area all around them.

“Daedaen, make a litter,” Faelon ordered the Ranger who was on his feet and moving away before he finished speaking.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Give me your waterskin.” Aragorn glanced briefly at Faelon as he held out his hand for it. “I have already used both mine and Halbarad’s.” Faelon passed it over without comment. With the blood stopped and the wound temporarily bandaged, Aragorn thoroughly washed his hands before reaching back into his small pack of healing supplies and pulling out a few pouches of various herbs and a small metal cup. He poured water into the cup and handed it to Faelon. “Heat this at the fire.” The older Ranger left without a word, though he did give his lord a searching look at the brusqueness of his manner.

His manner was gentler when he turned back to Halbarad. “How do you fare?” He frowned at the blood in his hair and the blood soaked shirt that his cousin was wearing, though he could do nothing about either of those things until they returned to camp.

Halbarad’s eyes opened briefly. “I hurt,” he said with a grimace.

“I am… sorry.”

Hearing remorse in Aragorn’s voice that went beyond concern for the pain he was feeling, Halbarad opened his eyes again and gave his cousin a puzzled look. “For what?”

“I did not see the orc… I was distracted…”

“You think you need to apologize?” Halbarad began slowly shaking his head as an incredulous look appeared on his face.

The arrival of the men with the litter interrupted their conversation. It was a simple thing made from the men’s cloaks and some hastily cut tree limbs, but it was sufficient for carrying Halbarad back to the camp. A small hiss and clenched fists were the only signs of pain that Halbarad showed as he was carefully lifted and placed on the litter. A cloak was gently tucked around him.

Aragorn took the lightly steaming cloth wrapped cup that Faelon handed him and, after an appraising look at his cousin, carefully measured out a number of herbs – the largest portion being willow bark – and poured them into the water. He swirled it gently and let it steep for a few minutes before bringing the cup to Halbarad’s lips.

“This will help with the pain,” he said quietly. He nodded at Faelon as the man slipped his arm around Halbarad’s shoulders and helped him sit up enough to drink the bitter tea. As soon as he was finished, the wounded Ranger closed his pain-filled eyes and lay back with a weary sigh. Aragorn grimaced inwardly and looked around at the rest of the men.

“Faelon, you lead the way. Daedaen, bring up the rear. The rest of you will help me carry the litter.”

As they began their slow walk through the woods, Aragorn was thankful for the rising of the moon that was just two days past full. The trees blocked much of the light, but enough filtered through to make their passage easier than it otherwise might have been. Still, it was slow going with the litter as they had to maneuver it between trees, around bushes, and over and around rocks and fallen trees. Halbarad, aided by the herbal tea Aragorn had given him, fell into a restless slumber not long after they left the orc camp.

It took close to two hours to reach their camp. As they drew near, Faelon hurried ahead to prepare the things Aragorn would need. The fire was built up and several pots of water were boiling by the time the rest of the patrol arrived. Halbarad was gently set down by the fire. Aragorn looked to Maldathor and Gilost before he started tending to his cousin.

“Did anything happen while we were gone?”

“No, Captain, it was quiet here,” Maldathor reported frowning with concern at Halbarad. Gilost simply shook his head as he slowly and carefully knelt down opposite Aragorn.

“How do you fare?” Aragorn paused in his search through his larger pack of healing supplies and giving him an appraising look.

“I’m well,” Gilost replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Will he be all right?”

“Yes, the wound is not deep. I helped him to sleep on the way back to lessen his pain, but he should be on his feet in a day or two.” Aragorn resumed his search, finally pulling out the leather folder of very sharp knives of various sizes that he was looking for. Glancing around he gave a satisfied nod as he saw that Faelon was quietly directing the men to do what needed to be done around the camp before they ate and settled down for the night. After thoroughly washing his hands once again, he turned back to his patient.

Aragorn neatly sliced through the bandage and peeled it back using the tip of the blade. He stopped, dismayed, at the sight that greeted him. The wound was swollen and the edges looked inflamed and he swore. The sword had been poisoned…or, he reminded himself sternly, it could simply have been the filth of the orcs themselves that had covered the blade. Either way, what had been a relatively minor wound had just turned much more serious… perhaps even deadly. He bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud when he looked up at Halbarad’s face to find it pale and beaded with sweat. How had he not noticed that before?

“It is infected?” It was more of a statement than a question that came from a visibly concerned Gilost.

“Or poisoned,” he replied grimly. He very lightly touched one edge of the wound and, as he expected, it felt hot. Halbarad flinched at his touch and moaned softly. Aragorn was no longer sure if his sleep was from the tea he had been given or from the fever he obviously had. He looked around for Faelon and was startled to discover the man was standing at the end of the litter with a scowl on his face.

“I am going to need more water… for poultices. I will not be able to stitch this just yet.”

“Do you want someone to go back for the sword?”

Aragorn shook his head. “No, if it is a poison or simply a filthy blade that is causing this, I would treat it the same. I do not have as many types of herbs as at home, but I should have something that will help,” he replied worriedly. “Athelas if nothing else,” he said almost under his breath as he turned back to Halbarad.

“I’ll get the water,” Faelon said as he went to gather waterskins and the last of the cooking pots. Hirgon joined him while the rest of the Rangers began congregating on the far side of the fire away from where Aragorn was working on Halbarad.

Quickly thinking about what he knew of orcs and the poisons they used, Aragorn pulled open two pouches of herbs and measured a small amount in a cup. He hesitated briefly as he looked at the athelas wondering if he should add some of those leaves to the tea. Deciding that the athelas might best be used to sooth and strengthen Halbarad and that the herbs he had were effective in counteracting poisons orcs were known to use, he did not add any. He added a small amount of water – it needed to be strong – and set it down to steep, while he ground the herbs he needed for the poultice.

“Gilost, lift his head up a bit, we need to get him to drink this,” Aragorn said as he picked up the cup of tea.

“Halbarad, wake up,” Aragorn said softly as he leaned forward over him. His cousin stirred and a frown darkened his face but there was no other response. “Come, Halbarad, I have something for you. Wake up,” he said in a cajoling voice. The injured man’s eyes fluttered open briefly and then narrowed to slits. “You need to drink this,” Aragorn said more sternly now that he had his attention, knowing that it was very bitter and needing him to drink it anyway.

Halbarad took one sip and started to gag. Aragorn stopped, frowning as he sat back and looked at him while Gilost gently patted his back. “Halbarad, I know this tastes horrible, but you must drink it. Please.” Opening his eyes a bit wider, Halbarad gave him one small nod and swallowed hard as Aragorn brought the cup back to his lips. Slowly, sip by sip, he downed the cup of bitter liquid. A cup of cool water followed that before he was allowed to lie back down.

Now Aragorn had to thoroughly clean out the long gash. It ran almost all the way across the front of his left leg about five inches above his knee. Taking a deep breath he picked up a cloth and began to clean the wound with the herbal solution he had prepared. At the first touch of the damp cloth, however, Halbarad opened his eyes again, crying out in pain and jerking his leg away. Aragorn spoke soothingly to him until his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. He looked around.

“Gilost, hold his head and arms still. Daedaen, Laegrist, come and hold down his legs.” Aragorn tried again and the sound of his cousin’s pain made him work quickly, though not so quickly that he did not clean the wound thoroughly. He did not need to make the situation any worse than it already was. He laid a clean cloth over the wound when he was finished and began preparing a poultice to draw out the infection. As he was grinding the herbs, Aragorn glanced at Gilost.

“There are more clean cloths in my pack, wet one with cool water and start wiping down his face and forehead - it will help bring his fever down.” Gilost gave him a blank stare for a moment, then shook himself and reached for the pack.

“Do you want us to clean him up and change his shirt?” Faelon asked as he suddenly appeared once again.

Aragorn finished the warm poultice and began laying it in the wound as he started to answer Faelon. Halbarad struggled against it and the men held his leg still until Aragorn finished. He placed a light dressing over the poultice and a heavier bandage over that to hold in the warmth and to keep it in place. It would have to be changed every few hours until the infection was gone. He finally answered Faelon.

“Go ahead and clean him, but do it quickly. He needs to be kept warm.” Already turning to steep the athelas, Aragorn missed the slight frown that crossed Faelon’s face.

Halbarad had been cleaned and his shirt had been changed by the time the athelas was ready. When the bowl was set by his head, a faint scent of baking bread was released and Aragorn watched as the lines of pain on his cousin’s face softened somewhat. He frowned when he felt Halbarad’s forehead and discovered how hot it was.

“This came on quickly,” Faelon said, indicating the fever, as he laid a blanket over Halbarad who had begun to tremble slightly.

Aragorn nodded. “It is not a good sign,” he said in a low voice that was full of worry. “Wipe the cloth around the back of his neck as well,” he directed Gilost.

“Will you see to the watches and such?” Aragorn asked Faelon. “I need to tend him throughout the night.”

“The watches are already set, Captain.” The older Ranger hesitated before continuing with a wary look. “Some of us can also sit up with him, Captain. I can change a poultice and dressing, I’ve done it quite often.”

Aragorn shook his head. “No, I will do it,” he replied more sharply than he had intended. “It was my fa… I will do it,” he repeated stubbornly. “He must be watched over very closely tonight.”

A quickly masked look of understanding crossed Faelon’s face and he bowed his head almost imperceptibly. “All right, Captain.” He had seen what had happened during the battle and recognized the guilt Aragorn was feeling. He patted Aragorn’s shoulder before walking around the fire to get his supper.

0-0-0

It was quite late and Aragorn had taken over the cooling off of Halbarad’s face and neck for Gilost and sent him off to sleep several hours before when a low voice intruded on his dark, brooding thoughts. “Captain?” Maldathor squatted down next to Aragorn and held out a cup of tea and a few strips of dried meat. He took the tea, but waved off the meat.

“I am not hungry,” he whispered, mindful of the sleeping men around the fire.

The Ranger hesitated before setting the meat on a nearby log, he knew his Chieftain had not eaten supper. “I’ll leave it here, you might get hungry later.” He glanced down at a restlessly moving and quietly mumbling Halbarad. “How does he fare?”

“Not well, the fever has still not broken.” He sipped at his tea and stared worriedly down at his cousin before shifting his gaze to Maldathor. “Why are you not sleeping?” He glanced over to where he could dimly make out Daedaen at the edge of the clearing.

Maldathor shrugged, his eyes puzzled. “There are two of us on watch. Faelon thought it necessary in case there are other orcs around.”

“Yes, of course,” Aragorn replied annoyed with himself for not realizing that. How had he missed Faelon assigning them that duty? he wondered as he sipped pensively on his tea.

“I best return to my duty,” Maldathor said as he stood. His Chieftain nodded absently.

0-0-0-0-0

An hour before dawn, Aragorn prepared to change the poultice once again. It had been a long night. Halbarad was still feverish, though he thought the temperature had dropped a tiny bit after he had pushed his cousin into a healing sleep sometime after midnight. Aragorn had grown increasingly concerned about the fever and his inability to lower it and thought perhaps the healing sleep would help and it appeared to be working… so far. He groaned softly and ran his fingers through his hair when he removed the poultice. Small, greenish pockets of pus were forming along the edges of the wound. The poultices were obviously not working to draw out the infection as he had hoped.

Frowning as he stared at the pus, Aragorn considered what to try next to stop the spread of the infection. There were a few other herbs he could try, but he sensed that they would do no more good than what he had already been using. It would have to be athelas then. He had not used it on the wound because he thought the poultices had been drawing out the infection and he had wanted to use the athelas to strengthen and refresh Halbarad, and to help combat the fever. It would take quite a few of the healing leaves each time he needed to replace the dressing and his supply was already growing low. He did not know if athelas grew in this area. As far as he knew no Dúnedain settlements had ever been on this side of the Bruinen and athelas was normally only found near places the Dúnedain had lived. Deciding that he really had no choice, Aragorn took out a few leaves and began to prepare them.

As he waited for the water to boil, Aragorn became lost in his own thoughts – as he often had during the long night. How could I have let this happen? How could a small flicker of motion in that cave so completely draw my attention away from my surroundings? I know better than to be so distracted. It was a lesson I started learning from Glorfindel and my brothers when I was very young… to stay focused on the battle and my immediate surroundings. What if Halbarad dies? How will I live with myself? I know that he has pledged to protect me, but if he dies because of my own carelessness I will never forgive myself.

A long, deep sigh escaped Aragorn’s lips as he lightly bruised the leaves, blew on them and added them to the water and he stared at it broodingly as he waited for the athelas to steep. He started wondering if he should tell the men what had happened... why Halbarad was injured. He wondered what their response would be and he tried to imagine what his own response would be if someone confessed that to him, but he was not able to do that. Carefully fishing the athelas leaves from the water one at a time, Aragorn shook the excess water from them before neatly placing them in the long gash. Covering the wound with a damp dressing and then a loose bandage only took a moment and he sat back with a grim smile knowing there was nothing to do now but wait.

Aragorn glanced at Gilost as the Ranger gingerly sat down beside him. “His fever is down,” he observed quietly.

“Some. I put him in a healing sleep and it seems to have helped, but the infection is worsening.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Not yet,” he replied glancing up at the lightening sky. “I need more athelas and if you are able to walk easily, then you and some of the others will need to go and look for some. I do not know if it grows near here, though, our people did not live on this side of the Bruinen.”

Gilost shrugged. “Then we will cross the river and find it on the other side. There must be some in the woods near there. Our people did live along the river there in the distant past.”

Aragorn twisted slightly so he could look the Ranger full in the face, amazed that he would make such an offer after what he had just experienced in crossing the river.

“Of course I would cross the river again to try and find something that would help save his life,” Gilost said with a faint smile as he gazed at Aragorn. “I would do it for anyone, but he’s a good friend and I’ve known him since he was born. Besides,” he shrugged again, “I’ll have to cross it again as soon as you decide he’s able to travel.”

“I do plan to cross here so that we can get him home more quickly,” Aragorn acknowledged. “But I had thought to send some of us down to Taurnand to cross at the ford. There is no need for all of us to cross at this spot and it should be safe enough to split up.”

“You mean to send me,” Gilost said with a rueful smile and Aragorn gave a small nod. “There is no need, I will cross here,” the Ranger stated adamantly. “I cannot always cross rivers at a ford, Captain.”

“No, you cannot, but…” Aragorn paused for a moment as he thought. Gilost was right. He should not try to protect him… there was no doubt he was going to have to cross other rivers in the future and avoiding it now might only increase his fear. His decision made, he gave the Ranger an intent look as he continued in a quiet voice, “Then we will all cross here.”

“Good. I’m going to get us breakfast,” Gilost said as he stood up. “After that, I’ll go and find some athelas.” He walked away before Aragorn could say anything else.

0-0-0

Shortly after noon, Aragorn called Halbarad awake. The fever seemed to be rising once again and Aragorn wanted him to drink water and some athelas tea that he hoped would lower it. It was the last of his athelas and the men he had sent out searching for more had not returned. So far the athelas had seemed to have had little or no effect on the wound, but it had not gotten any worse either.

Halbarad’s pain-filled eyes opened slowly and his gaze wandered around before finally settling on Aragorn. “I still hurt,” he said hoarsely and then coughed. He grimaced at the pain even that slight jarring caused his leg.

“I know. Here, drink this.” Aragorn raised Halbarad’s head slightly and helped him drink tiny sips of water.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he lay back, shivering. “Wh-when are we going home?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Aragorn’s lips. “You are not quite ready to travel. Here, this will not taste pleasant, but you need to drink all of it.”

“What’s it for?” he eyed Aragorn suspiciously.

“For the fever,” he replied patiently. He was starting to raise his cousin’s head again when Faelon knelt down and slipped his arm under Halbarad’s shoulders. Aragorn gave him a small nod before he once again helped Halbarad drink. The injured man wrinkled his nose in disgust at the taste but drank the tea without comment before lying back with a weary sigh.

Halbarad’s gaze drifted between the two men with a concerned expression. “D-did we get them all? Is anyone else hurt?”

“Everyone is fine,” Faelon answered as he gently patted his shoulder. “And I watched you kill the last orc,” he continued. He wanted Aragorn to know that he had seen what had happened. Maybe it would help the younger man speak with him about the guilt he was carrying.

“Good.” The confusion appeared on his face once again. “I thought… I thought this wasn’t a very bad injury… “ his voice trailed off and he pulled his blanket around himself against the chills that wracked his body.

“The injury itself was not, but the blade was either poisoned in some manner or was simply filthy. Whichever it was, by the time we returned here, infection had set in and that is why you are feverish. We need to lower the fever and stop the infection from spreading.” A worried look filled his eyes and darkened his countenance.

“Oh. You’ll find a way to stop it, Aragorn,” although weak, his voice was full of confidence. As were his eyes behind the pain.

Aragorn did not respond to that. “I am going to send you back to sleep, I believe that will help you more than anything else.” He reached out, laying his hand on Halbarad’s hot, sweaty forehead and sent him back into a healing sleep. When his cousin was deeply asleep, he ran his fingers down to his neck to check his pulse. It was as he suspected, the pulse was faster than it had been which indicated the fever was going up again. He swore softly.

“What is it?” Faelon asked with concern.

“His fever is going up,” he replied frowning. “Perhaps the tea will help,” he murmured glancing at the older man.

“I’m sure it will.” Faelon watched his Chieftain adjust Halbarad’s blanket and begin to wipe his brow with a cool cloth once again. “You need to get some rest, Captain.” Aragorn had barely left Halbarad since he’d been injured.

“I am not tired.”

“Yes, you are,” Faelon stated firmly. “You do not need to do this on your own, my Lord Aragorn.”

Aragorn looked up in surprise at his tone and the use of his title. Faelon had called him captain since their time with the bandits. Most of the men did. “No, I suppose not,” he said, sitting back with a weary sigh and rubbing at his eyes.

“He may need you even more tomorrow or the next day,” Faelon said softly. “You must sleep, my lord. I will do this for you… for him.”

“I am not sure I can sleep,” he replied with a low voice. “However, I will let you do this for a time and I will try. At least I will rest my body.” If not my mind, he added silently to himself. Aragorn handed the cloth to Faelon. He stood up and stretched his stiff and sore body for a moment before walking to the edge of the clearing.

As Aragorn stared blankly out into the woods, he ran his fingers through his hair as he considered Faelon’s words. Not just his words, but also the fact that many of the men had come and offered to help – both during the night and again this morning – and Aragorn had turned them all away. Well, he said disparagingly to himself, except to let them go off and hunt for the athelas. Was it that he did not trust the men, or was it his own guilt that made him want to care for Halbarad by himself he wondered. Mostly it was guilt, he decided after a moment of honest reflection. While none of the men were healers that did not mean that they could not sit with Halbarad and cool him off as Faelon was doing now. He could easily be woken up if there was need for his skills. It was simply easier for him to care for his cousin by himself. It helped both to sooth his guilt-ridden conscious and to keep him occupied so he did not have too much time to think about what he had done.

But his mind whirled with not only the thought of Halbarad dying, but of the infection spreading up his leg and him having to make a choice whether or not to take his leg. Aragorn did not know if he had the strength in him to make such a decision. Would his cousin want to live a life without his leg? Would he even survive such a drastic surgery here in the wild? Would he want to live the rest of his life in the village? Could he live such a life and truly be happy? He thought about Ladreníl and the loss of his eye and the damage to his leg that kept him in the village now. He seemed happy enough, but then he had been a much older man who was married and had grown children when it had occurred. The adjustment, while difficult, had probably been easier than what Halbarad would face as a very young man without a leg. Aragorn shook his head in frustration at the thought of his cousin limping around the village doing… something. He could not even imagine that and he pushed those thoughts and the guilt he felt aside.

Turning, Aragorn glanced around to see where the rest of the men were. Hirgon was on the far side of the clearing near the horses and Remlas was on the opposite side towards the river, the other four men were still out looking for athelas. Deciding that where he was at was as good as place as any to rest, he sank to the ground leaning back against a tree where he could keep an eye on Halbarad. He knew he would not sleep, but, as he had told Faelon, rest would be good for his body. He yawned. His eyes slowly slid shut.

0-0-0

Aragorn started awake. He looked around wildly his eyes wide with fear, his heart racing as he reached for his sword to kill the orc… no… it was only a dream… a nightmare. He scrubbed at his face and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. It had seemed so real. Halbarad had not been able to kill the orc and the orc’s blade had come down stabbing his cousin through the heart. His pain and cries of anguish had been horrible to watch and listen to.

Shaking his head to try and clear the images from it, Aragorn glanced around the clearing realizing as he did so that it was only an hour or so before full dark. Dismayed, he scrambled to his feet and hurried over to where Gilost and Faelon were tending to Halbarad. “Why did you let me sleep so long?” he asked Faelon sharply as he knelt down next to Halbarad. He did not wait for an answer as he turned to Gilost. “Did you find any athelas?”

“Yes.” The Ranger handed him a leather pouch stuffed with small leaves. “I’m sorry it took so long, but they were small plants and hard to find.”

“It does not matter,” Aragorn gave him a grateful smile. “He will need it.” He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze back to Faelon. “Forgive me, I should not have spoken to you that way.” The man nodded. “How does he fare?” Aragorn ran his hands lightly over his cousin’s still hot forehead before taking his pulse which seemed to have slowed.

“There hasn’t been much change, if any.”

“His pulse has slowed… so the temperature should drop as well. I will change the dressing and clean the wound out again.” As Aragorn cut off the bandage and peeled back the dressing he examined the wound carefully. The pockets of pus had not re-formed and he sighed softly before glancing up at the other two men with a brief smile.

“The paste I made from the athelas seems to have worked to stop the infection… at least from spreading any further. I will…”

“Is he getting better?” Remlas called from the other side of the fire.

Aragorn looked up to see the concerned faces of the other Rangers watching him. “I think so,” he said, “but it is too soon to know for certain. I believe the infection has stopped spreading.” He saw relief fill the eyes of the men before they returned to their supper, though he noticed that they kept one eye on what he was doing.

0-0-0

By midnight it was clear that Halbarad’s fever had broken. Aragorn felt himself relax somewhat as the chills that had caused his cousin’s body to tremble for the last day and a half lessened and finally stopped. The sweat that had poured off of Halbarad and soaked through several changes of shirts also stopped and Aragorn and Daedaen cleaned and changed him once again, borrowing clothing from one of the other Rangers. Checking the wound, Aragorn saw that the pus had dried up entirely. The edges were still a little red and swollen, but not warm to the touch. He cleaned it again.

“He’s going to survive, isn’t he?” Daedaen whispered.

“He is,” Aragorn said firmly and without a doubt in his mind.

“I knew you would save him.”

Aragorn cringed inside.

0-0-0

Faelon took over for Aragorn a couple of hours before sunrise so that he could get a few hours of sleep. Aragorn went without protest this time, wrapping himself in a blanket and lying down only a few feet away from Halbarad. Faelon just shook his head.

0-0-0

After checking his wound at mid-morning and finding that the swelling had not returned, Aragorn awoke Halbarad. He watched closely as his cousin blinked and slowly opened his eyes. There was still a measure of pain in those grey eyes, but the overwhelming pain he had been in seemed to be gone. He and Gilost helped him slowly drink a cup of water.

“How do you fare?” he asked softly.

Halbarad frowned as he considered the question. “Better… better than I was. My leg,” he glanced down at it, “still hurts somewhat, but not as badly.”

“Good. We were able to stop the infection and your fever finally broke last night. I believe you are going to live.” The small smile on his lips did not match his slightly uncomfortable expression.

“I know.” Halbarad frowned at the look on his cousin’s face. “I knew that I would. Can we go home today… well, tomorrow anyway,” he amended at the incredulous look that appeared on the face of both Aragorn and Gilost.

Chuckling, Aragorn shook his head as he replied. “I will not even be able to stitch this until tomorrow, Cousin. We may be able to leave the day after that.” He patted Halbarad’s shoulder gently. “Now, would you like something to eat? We have some…”

“I’m famished! I’ll eat anything!”

Smiles and quiet laughter broke out from the men scattered around the clearing as it was made perfectly clear that Halbarad was well on his way to a full recovery.

Reviewers: Thanks to everyone who reads the story and especially to those who review, I appreciate the encouragement. I will TRY and answer everyone by email if I have an address.

Author’s Note: I am not a doctor nor do I have any type of medical training beyond basic first aid. I used the resources at the HASA site, the Yahoo group Fanfic Medicine, and a couple of Internet medical sites specifically regarding fevers. My goal was to write a plausible chapter regarding Halbarad’s injuries without getting too graphic or specific and I hope I was able to accomplish that.

Part of the delay in this chapter also had to do with making this chapter fit in with my other long story, ‘In Aragorn’s Safekeeping.’ This incident was mentioned a couple of times in that story and so I had to make sure that everything fit together, which ended up being much more difficult than I thought it would be. When I wrote ‘Safekeeping’ I never intended to write this story and so there were no other characters beside Aragorn and Halbarad in my mind and there were just a few sketchy details and meshing those things all into a coherent story was tricky. However, on the positive side, this chapter was the whole reason that I even started this story. I was just intending to write the back story for this event… and it went a little beyond that. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Beta read by J. and Marsha. Thanks both of you for all of your hard work on this story!

Chapter 26

“I do not need to ride with Hirgon,” Halbarad stated emphatically.

“Yes, you do,” Aragorn replied barely glancing up from the last of the supplies he was packing.

“I’ve been walking unaided for the last day and a half!”

Aragorn stood then and placed his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “It is only until we cross the river, Halbarad.” His gaze sharpened as he studied him. Halbarad’s coloring, temperature, and pulse had all been normal for well over a day which is why they were finally heading home. However, he was not willing to risk his cousin’s health foolishly. “I explained this to you before. Hirgon’s horse is the tallest and by riding with him I hope to keep your wound from getting wet. The water is filthy and I do not want to risk you getting another infection.”

Halbarad bowed his head grumbling under his breath. He finally looked up again and sighed softly. “I will ride once we are on the other side of the river?” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes. However, I will be watching you closely and if I think your leg is causing you pain then you will ride with someone.” He raised his hand to stop the protests forming on Halbarad’s lips. “I do not think it will be necessary, but it might because of where the wound is located.” He gestured to the heavily bandaged thigh. “I would not have you in pain if I can relieve it in any way.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face.

A call from Faelon interrupted the response that Halbarad was about to make and he watched, frowning, as Aragorn walked away. Several times in the past few days he had tried to speak with his cousin about the night of the battle and the senseless guilt he was carrying, but each time Aragorn had pushed him away. He would insist on speaking about it before they reached Dolomar he decided as he went to retrieve his horse.

0-0-0

Glancing around the camp as he walked to Faelon, Aragorn saw that the men were ready to leave. All signs of their camp had been carefully removed and the site restored as closely to its natural condition as was possible. An elf or another Ranger would not be fooled, but most men and orcs would not discover that they had stayed there. He gave Faelon a questioning look as he took in his horse’s legs which were wet up to its hocks.

“I found a better place to cross, Captain,” he said in answer to the unspoken question.

“You did not attempt to cross by yourself?” Aragorn asked incredulously.

Faelon shook his head. “No. But I rode down to where the orcs had been crossing. If they’ve been crossing there for as long as we suspect it must be the best place on this stretch of the river. The river widens there and so it’s a bit shallower, or at least it appears that way. We won’t know for sure until we cross.”

“I doubt it would be worse than where we crossed,” Aragorn said slowly and then nodded. “I want you to lead the way again. Halbarad is riding with Hirgon and I intend to stay near them.” A flicker of surprise crossed Faelon’s face but he said nothing. “I want to try and keep his wound dry,” he explained and Faelon nodded. “We will cross as we did before, in pairs.” He glanced meaningfully at Gilost and the older Ranger nodded his understanding. Aragorn had no doubt that Gilost would be able to hide his unease about the crossing from the men in the patrol. But hiding it from his horse was another matter and a skittish horse in the river could prove to be dangerous once again. While he knew the Ranger needed to overcome the fear generated by his near drowning, he was not going to leave him to face it alone either.

Untying the reins of his horse, Aragorn swung up into the saddle. After taking one last glance around the area he motioned to Faelon to lead the way to the crossing. The journey was swift on horseback and the patrol soon found themselves on the banks of the Bruinen. Aragorn eyed it carefully but knew that other than the fact that the orcs had used it there was little he could tell from here. It did appear to be somewhat wider than where they had crossed four or five miles upriver and the banks leading into the water were less steep. But if the water itself had slowed, it was not apparent to him. Still, if it was even a little shallower it would help and they had to cross somewhere. He turned to the men.

“We will do this much as we did before. Faelon will lead. Remlas and Laegrist will follow him, then Maldathor and Gilost. Halbarad is riding with Hirgon.” He saw surprise in the eyes of the other Rangers, especially Hirgon’s. Aragorn ignored Halbarad’s muttering as his cousin dismounted. “Daedaen, will you lead his horse across?”

“Yes, of course, Captain.” He took the reins Halbarad thrust at him and wound them around the pommel of his saddle.

“Why’s he riding with me?” Hirgon finally asked gruffly. “Isn’t he healed well enough to ride?”

“He is. But I do not want his wound wet if it can be helped and you have the tallest horse.” Hirgon grunted and looked away. “But, Hirgon,” Aragorn added quietly, “you also handled your horse well and I trust you to watch out for him.” The older Ranger swung his gaze back to his lord and studied him for a moment and then nodded once. He held his hand down to Halbarad and helped him climb up onto the back of his horse. Once settled, Halbarad gave a small sigh as he looked at Aragorn who ignored him before turning to Faelon and motioning him on.

Following closely after Hirgon as they entered the rushing river, Aragorn shuddered as the image of Gilost being swept downstream flashed through his mind. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on keeping his horse in line with the ones in front of him. Glancing ahead to Faelon he saw that the older Ranger was nearing halfway and the water was not yet touching his horse’s belly. Perhaps this way would prove to be a better crossing… “Steady,” he murmured as he felt his horse’s feet slip a bit on the uneven rocks of the riverbed. Perhaps not, he thought wryly as he concentrated on keeping his own horse calm.

The sound of a horse snorting and blowing caught Aragorn’s attention and he looked to see that Gilost’s horse was throwing its head up and down. The Ranger was speaking to it and the horse was still moving forward and he watched as Maldathor moved a little closer. But Gilost kept the horse until control and Aragorn let a small, relieved sigh escape his lips.

As Aragorn crossed the middle of the river, which appeared to be the deepest part, he saw the water was just lapping at Halbarad’s calves. He glanced forward to see that the first of his men were climbing out onto the bank. Faelon immediately led them downriver a short distance, preparing for any accident that might occur. But, on this day, none did and soon all nine of the Rangers were safely on the west side of the Bruinen. They stopped briefly to let Halbarad mount his own horse before riding on towards home.

0-0-0-0-0

Aragorn stopped abruptly with his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked around, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness to identify the slight noise that had disturbed him. After a moment he heard it again and he realized it came from one of the horses and he dropped his hand from his sword. He watched the men sleeping around the fire for a moment before he moved on, circling the camp once again.

A stirring among the men brought Aragorn’s attention back to them and he frowned slightly as he watched Halbarad sit up and gingerly get to his feet. It was not time for the watch to change and his cousin did not have the next watch in any case. His frown deepened as Halbarad glanced around and walked stiffly in his direction.

“Is your leg hurting?” he whispered.

Halbarad shook his head. “No. It’s just a little stiff, it will be fine if I walk around for a minute.”

“Good. Can you not sleep? It is not your watch,” Aragorn stated looking away into the woods surrounding the camp.

Halbarad did not answer for a moment. He just gazed at Aragorn with an intent, but puzzled expression on his face. Finally he spoke in a quiet voice. “Will you still not speak with me?”

Aragorn swiveled his head around and stared at his cousin. “I have spoken with you every day since we left home!”

“You know that is not what I’m talking about, Aragorn,” he replied softly. “I’m talking about the battle and the guilt you feel because I was wounded.”

“I do not feel…”

“Yes, you do,” Halbarad interrupted him. “I see it in your eyes every time you change my bandage or if I limp a little. When we left camp a few days ago you watched me all day long. Did you not think I would notice?”

“Of course I watched you; I was concerned that you would be in too much pain to ride all day. I told you that before we left the camp.”

“You did,” Halbarad acknowledged with a slight nod. “And if it was only that one day I would have thought nothing of it, but it was the same all day yesterday and again today. But,” he waved off the comment his cousin was going to make. “But, you are uneasy around me, Aragorn and, as I said, I read the guilt in your eyes every time that you look at me.” He grabbed Aragorn’s sleeve. “It was not your fault,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, it was,” Aragorn hissed, jerking his sleeve loose. “I was… distracted and because of that you almost died!”

“But I didn’t,” he replied calmly. “You also saved my life,” he pointed out.

“I should not have had to. You would not have been injured if I had been paying attention.”

Halbarad frowned and shook his head. “You make mistakes, Aragorn… just like all of us do,” he finally said uncertain how his cousin might take his words.

Aragorn looked at him then. “Of course I do,” he snapped. He lowered his voice again when one of the sleeping men muttered and rolled over. “But this mistake almost got someone killed.”

“Yes,” he shrugged, “I’m sure that mistakes can lead to injuries.” He paused in thought. “But,” he reached over and put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder turning him slightly so he could see his face. “I would do it again. As I told you before, I will willingly risk my life for yours. I would have done that for anyone on our patrol. Do you expect me to just stand and watch as someone is cut down by an orc because they made a mistake?”

“No, of course not, but…”

“Cease, Aragorn,” Halbarad said firmly and Aragorn’s eyes widened in surprise. “You will listen to me. I know you’re the Chieftain of the Dúnedain and my lord, but right now I’m your cousin… your older cousin and I want you to listen.” When Aragorn said nothing, Halbarad continued in the same firm but quiet voice and his eyes meet Aragorn’s unflinchingly.

“I could have been injured at any point in that battle. Any of us could have been and you know that. It is a risk that we willingly take as Rangers; you are only feeling such guilt because I was the one that was injured. And… maybe,” he hesitated briefly because he wasn’t certain on this point, “because as the Chieftain you planned the battle and someone was injured. But, Aragorn, it wasn’t your fault that I was injured, it was the fault of the orc… he was the one that sliced open my leg, not you.” Halbarad leaned against a tree with a small sigh. He’d said all he could say and now it was up to Aragorn.

Aragorn said nothing for a long time as he pondered his cousin’s words. When he finally did speak his voice was soft, but his gaze was unwavering as he looked at Halbarad. “In my head I know you are right. That people do get injured and… killed in battles. But in my heart,” he shook his head and sighed softly, “in my heart it is hard for me to accept. To see you in pain…” his voice trailed off and he finally looked away.

“Would it have been different if someone else was injured?”

“No.” There was a brief pause. “Perhaps, but I would not see any of my men in pain if I could help it.”

“I know. Aragorn, I’m not sure what to else to say but… this is going to happen again. You know it will,” he said earnestly.

Aragorn nodded. “I do, of course it will happen again… many times. It is just… well, it is something that I have to become accustomed to. To make plans and send my men off to battle knowing that some will be injured and some… may not return.” He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “And yet…”

“Yet it is your responsibility,” Halbarad finished for him.

“Yes… as it is yours to go where I send you,” he said with a rueful smile.

“It is the duty we accepted when we received these,” Halbarad said fingering the star on his cloak.

Aragorn picked up a stick as he nodded in response to his cousin’s remark. “I wonder if Arath… my father felt this way?” he asked quietly as he swung the stick back and forth.

Halbarad shrugged. “He was much older than you and he’d led patrols for many years so he had a lot of experience before he became Chieftain. You can ask my father when we get home,” he suggested.

“I might, but I suspect this is something that I just have to learn by doing. Glorfindel spoke of this, as did my adar, but it is not the same as seeing…” he stopped and shook his head deciding not to speak of that again. “I will say,” Aragorn’s smile could be seen in the dim glow from the fire, “that speaking with you has been helpful. I am sorry, though, that I did not do so earlier and that you had to force me to do so.”

Halbarad shrugged again. “It does not matter, I’m just glad that you finally listened. You need to remember how much older I am,” he said, grinning.

Aragorn snorted with amusement. “It will probably be the only time I ever do listen to you, so you should remember this night, Cousin.”

Chuckling softly Halbarad shook his head. “I’m sure you’ll find I know a few more things than you do, Aragorn. I think I could teach you a few things about hunting,” he said grinning as he clapped his cousin lightly on the shoulder.

“I do not need you to teach me about hunting,” he protested quietly. “I do just fine on my own. I always bring down a deer.”

“Just not a large one,” Halbarad pointed out. “At least not as large as the ones that I’m able to bring down - or the ones that Eradan gets either.”

Aragorn gave a resigned sigh. “I believe it is time for you to return to your bedroll, you are still healing and I do not want you to suffer tomorrow because you did not get enough sleep.”

Halbarad laughed and held up his hands in mocking surrender. “I’ll go as long as you remember to come to me if you need counsel about tracking deer.”

Aragorn pointedly turned and walked off to make another circle of the camp. Halbarad watched him for a moment, then a small relieved smile crossed his lips as he turned and made his way back to his place near the fire.

0-0-0-0-0

The Rangers rode hard, anxious to reach Dolomar before the sun set. The journey home had been much quicker without the need to follow the trail of the orcs and this fourth day found them nearing their destination. There had been no sign of orcs or men as they traveled and they were grateful for that. In mid-afternoon they stopped at a small stream to water and rest their horses for a time. After letting his horse drink Aragorn tied him on a loose rein near a patch of grass before joining his men. He listened to them talk as he leaned against a tree chewing on a piece of dried deer meat.

“Do you think we’ve missed the wedding, Faelon?” Gilost asked.

Faelon shrugged and it was Remlas who answered. “I’m sure we have, Norgalad seemed eager and I doubt he would have waited this long.”

“Tathor’s patrol wouldn’t have been able to stay very long either,” Maldathor pointed out.

Gilost nodded glumly. “That’s what I thought. Well, I’m sorry I missed it.” Sidelong questioning glances were thrown his way as he stared at the ground.

A smile crept across Halbarad’s face. He glanced quickly at Remlas with an eyebrow raised questioningly and when the Ranger nodded he turned to Gilost. “Are you more disappointed that you missed the wedding or that you won’t be able to dance with Randiriel during the celebration?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What?” Gilost asked as he lifted his head and stared at Halbarad. His eyes widened as he glanced around the circle of men; some of whom were openly grinning. “It’s my-my sister’s wedding, Halbarad,” he spluttered, “of course I’m disappointed not to be there for it.”

“And you wouldn’t have danced?” Remlas asked.

“Well, yes, of course, but so would you! All of you would!”

“Of course, of course,” Halbarad said soothingly and with twinkling eyes. “But I would have danced with every young lady there.” He paused and looked at Aragorn with a calculating eye. “As would Remlas and our captain,” he said with a nod in Aragorn’s direction. “I’m not sure about Laegrist,” he said as he turned to the Ranger who had only recently moved to Dolomar from Taurnand. Laegrist shrugged and took another drink from his waterskin to hide the faint smile on his lips.

“But, you, Gilost, would have danced almost the whole time with Randiriel,” Remlas pointed out.

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed as he thought back to Mettarë. He thought that Gilost had danced with several of the young ladies that night, though perhaps he had paid more attention to Randiriel than the others. He, himself, had been trying to dance with all the ladies and had really not paid attention to what Gilost was doing. The sound of Faelon’s voice pulled his attention back to where Halbarad and Remlas were still teasing Gilost.

“Why do you not marry her, Gilost?”

Gilost stood and looked from Faelon to Aragorn and back. “She’s too young. She won’t be twenty-five until almost Mettarë and I thought to ask for her hand then. After our betrothal year she will be ready,” he said with a small smile.

“I thought so,” Faelon said with a pointed look at the younger Rangers who only grinned in return.

Aragorn spoke up then. “You may want to ask her sooner, Gilost,” he said quietly. The Ranger gave him a wary look, uncertain if he was being teased again. “I have not spoken with you or with Laegrist,” he said glancing at the other Ranger who was sitting with Hirgon and Maldathor taking it all in. “But the two of you will be part of my patrol as I go to the other villages and meet with the other patrols.” Laegrist looked surprised and then nodded. “Halbarad and Nestad are also going and we will leave four or five days after we get home.”

“I was hoping you’d still take me and it’s an honor, Captain,” Gilost said, grinning. “But why did you say…”

“Because,” Aragorn interrupted him, “my plans have changed and we will probably be gone at least two years.” Gilost blanched and then nodded.

“Then I will ask her father and we’ll get married when I return,” he said stoutly.

Aragorn nodded and turned to Laegrist with a questioning look. “It’ll be good to see some of the people from our village,” was the young Rangers only comment.

Giving Laegrist a searching look and seeing a hint of excitement in the depth of his eyes, Aragorn gave him a brief smile before turning back to the others. “I believe our horses have rested enough, we should ride on if we want to make it home before dark.” There were murmurs of agreement as they went to tighten girth straps and check bridles before the last leg of their journey home.

0-0-0-0-0

There were expressions of worry on the faces of the people that came out to greet them as Aragorn led the patrol into the village just before sunset. They had been gone far longer than expected and while that was not unusual, it was still cause for concern. Relief quickly took the place of that concern as the villagers noted that all of the men had returned.

Aragorn swung down off his horse and, after removing his pack, handed the reins to Rosruin with his thanks. Seeing Halhigal and Nimrie hurrying down the lane toward them he grabbed Halbarad’s sleeve and gestured to them and the two young men made their way through the gathering villagers to meet them. Aragorn stopped when a hand was laid on his arm.

“Why were you delayed?” Nestad asked.

“I ran into an orc’s blade,” Halbarad glibly answered as he lightly patted his bandaged leg.

“And it was poisoned,” Aragorn said a little more slowly. “It took some time for him to recover enough for us to travel.”

“I knew I should have gone with you,” Nestad said, frowning as he stared down at the injured leg.

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

Startled, Nestad looked up and then smiled at the glint of amusement in his lord’s eyes. “No, no, of course not,” he backtracked quickly and then changed the subject. “Were there many orcs?”

“Nineteen. But,” Aragorn sighed, “I fear it may be a place they will return to. That area will have to be closely watched.”

Nestad slowly nodded. “And we are spread thin already.”

“Halbarad!” Nimrie cried as she stopped in front of the three men. “What happened? How badly are you injured?” She reached out tentatively toward the bandage on his leg but Halbarad gently took her hand and held it to his chest.

“I’m well, Naneth,” he said soothingly. “I was sliced by an orc’s blade and it was poisoned…” Nimrie gasped and her eyes widened in alarm but he was not going to hide the extent of his injuries from her, “but I’m healing well. Aragorn tended to me and I’m all right now.” He pulled her into his arms, glancing over her head at his father and gave him a reassuring smile at his questioning look. Halhigal looked at Aragorn.

“Was his the only injury?”

“During the orc attack, yes, but,” he lowered his voice, “Gilost almost drowned when we crossed the Bruinen.”

“Drowned?” Halhigal and Nestad said at the same time and Nimrie moved away from Halbarad as she looked around for Gilost.

“The river was high and when his horse spooked he fell and the current swept him downstream. Maldathor had already crossed and was able to fish him out of the water.”

“Thank the Valar,” Nimrie murmured. “To have their daughter married and then to lose their son so soon after would be heartbreaking for Alpheth and Ladreníl.”

“They did get married, then?” Halbarad asked.

“Yes,” Nimrie said, smiling in remembrance. “Not too long after you left.” She indicated the newly married couple speaking with Gilost.

“Tathor was anxious to return to his patrol area,” Halhigal commented.

Nestad snorted. “Norgalad was anxious to get married.”

“Hush, Nestad,” Nimrie scolded him, though she smiled as she did so. She turned to Halbarad and Aragorn. “Come home now and let me make you supper.”

“I will be there in a moment,” Aragorn said as he spied Balrant from the corner of his eye. The small boy was bouncing up and down on his feet as he stood by his mother and father but his eyes were fixed on Aragorn. His face lit up as Aragorn smiled and beckoned him over. “Well met, Balrant,” he said as he crouched down to be at eye level with the boy.

“Well met, Aragorn!” He shifted uneasily on his feet. “Did you kill all the orcs?” he whispered, fear darkening his grey eyes that had just been sparkling and full of life.

Blinking in surprise, he just looked at the young boy for a moment before he gave a small sigh and nodded. “Yes, we did, Balrant.”

“Good, I knew you would! Now they can’t come and burn our village like they did Culas’s village,” he said, grinning.

“No, those orcs will not,” he replied only lightly emphasizing the word those. He stood and ruffled the small boy’s hair as he looked down at him. “Come and find me tomorrow, I will have need of you in the next few days.” Balrant grinned and skipped back to his parents. Aragorn watched him go with a trace of sorrow in his eyes; when he was Balrant’s age he had never thought much about orcs, let alone worried they might come and burn Imladris. They were only mentioned in passing until he was several years older than Balrant.

It was strange, he mused, as he headed home, that his childhood had been so protected and carefree, yet once he had begun his training as a warrior he had quickly grown into that role and began going on patrols much earlier than any other Dúnedain man. Aragorn returned the greetings of his people as he passed them and he paused when he reached the house where he had been born. He wondered what his life would have been like had his father not died, if… he shook his head and walked on. His life was what it was and it was fruitless to pursue such thoughts.

As he strode past his grandmother’s house, Aragorn was surprised that she was not standing on the porch waiting to greet him in her usual gruff manner. He grinned inwardly at that image and decided he would come by after supper… dragging Halbarad with him. With a slight shake of his head and a rueful smile, he realized that he would miss her while he was gone. He would miss many of the people of Dolomar which had become a second home to him – as much of a home as he would have for many years if his foresight was accurate. But he was also looking forward to seeing the other parts of Eriador and meeting the rest of his people.

Aragorn pushed open the door to his home and walked inside. Nimrie was bustling around the kitchen making supper while Halhigal sat near the hearth smoking his pipe. Halbarad was not in the room and Aragorn glanced toward his cousin’s room and saw that the door was closed.

“He’s cleaning up,” Halhigal said quietly.

“I will change his bandage when he is finished,” Aragorn said and Halhigal nodded.

“There’s hot water in your room,” Nimrie informed him, “and some cloths laid out on the bed.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said with a warm smile. “It will be wonderful to be able to bathe with hot water.” She simply smiled and turned back to her cooking as he walked into his room and closed the door behind him.

As he tossed his pack on the floor, Aragorn heard a faint ‘clink’ as the bag landed. It took him a moment to remember what was there and he reached under the bed and pulled out the swords he had stored there so many months ago and laid them carefully on the bed. Unwrapping the shards of Narsil, he touched the hilt reverently before he rewrapped the pieces and set it aside; it was not yet time for that sword to be re-forged. As he stared down at the second sword on the bed – the one his father had wielded - Aragorn slowly removed the belt at his waist and then pulled his sword from its sheath and set the belt and sheath down.

Lightly tracing over the elegant lines of the elvish inscriptions on the blade with his finger Aragorn smiled as he remembered the day his adar had given him the sword that had been made especially for him. He had been fifteen and thrilled to have finally been old enough to have a ‘real’ sword that was similar to the ones his brothers wore. The sword had seen him through many difficult situations in the last six years and yet Aragorn knew it was time to lay it down and take up his father’s sword instead.

Elrond would always be the father of his heart. The one who had been there for him throughout his childhood and the one who helped him grow into the man he was now. He was the one who had been there to comfort him during difficult times – when he was frightened or hurt or confused. His naneth and Elrond were the most important people in his life and Aragorn knew that his feelings for Elrond would never change.

But Arathorn was his father in truth and it was Arathorn’s blood that ran through Aragorn’s veins. It was through Arathorn that he was Lord and Chieftain of the Dúnedain and while Aragorn had accepted that responsibility, it was now time to embrace it fully as he went out to meet the rest of his people.

Aragorn sheathed the elvish sword and set it down gently before picking up the one his father had worn and pulled it from its worn sheath. The grip felt right in his hands even if the sword itself was a little heavier. While it also had been made by the elves and had elvish inscriptions on the blade, it was far older than his. He knew that besides his father both his grandfather and great-grandfather had wielded the sword. Aragorn swung the sword around experimentally for a moment. It had a good feel… a good balance to it and while it would take him some time to get used to it, he knew that he would quickly adjust to this sword of his father’s.

There was a knock on his door and it opened at his call. Halbarad poked his head in the doorway and Aragorn gestured for him to come in. “Adar said you wanted to change my bandages,” Halbarad said. “But you haven’t even cleaned up yet.” His brow furrowed as he looked at the sword in Aragorn’s hand, it was one he’d never seen before.

“Whose sword is that? I’ve never seen you use it.”

“It was given to me right before I came here,” Aragorn replied as he returned it to its sheath. He set it aside and pulled his belt free of the sword he’d been using for so long and then put that sword and the shards of Narsil under the bed.

“What are you doing?” Halbarad asked curiously as he came and sat on the bed. He watched as his cousin worked the new sword onto his belt.

Aragorn paused and looked up. His hand lightly traced up and down the sword. “This was my father’s sword. I think it is time I began using it, is it not?” he asked, his face set with grim purpose, a spark of excitement in his grey eyes.

Halbarad nodded, his expression matching his cousin’s. “Yes, yes it is, my lord!”

0-0-0-0-0

The End

Author Notes: I do hope that you have enjoyed reading this story and I thank all of you that have left me reviews, I certainly do appreciate you taking the time to do so. This story turned out to be much longer than I had originally intended, but I had fun writing it and I especially enjoyed developing all of the original characters. As to what I have planned (in case any of you are interested!), I still want to write a story featuring Aragorn and Éomer that is set in my AU where Halbarad survives the war, but it will be some time before I start writing that. I have a couple of stories I want to finish first. I am debating about whether or not I want to start another lengthy story and post it a chapter at a time as I have been doing. I may try to write half of it and then start posting so that there won’t be these long delays (hopefully!) between chapters. Real life has just cut into my writing time and I don’t like the delays any more than you do. I do not know if I will come back and write in this time frame again, though I certainly enjoyed writing this and there certainly are lots of possibilities for stories!

Thanks again for your support and encouragement!

Radbooks

Character List:

Characters in bold print are Tolkien’s, all others are mine. I have listed them in family groups and given a brief description of them. I am sorry I can't get the formatting any better than this!!

Name Age Description

PEOPLE IN DOLOMAR:

Estel/Aragorn 20 Well, if you don’t know who he is…

Halhigal 70 Halbarad’s father – Gilraen’s brother
Nimrie 54 Halbarad’s mother
Halbarad 23
Ivorwen 110 Mother of Halhigal & Gilraen (and 2 children who died tragically)

Ladreníl 82 Father of Gilost & Gaerwen, head of village when Halhigal is gone.
Alpheth 66 Mother of Gilost & Gaerwen, sister of Arthiell
Gilost 34 Ranger
Gaerwen 25 Young lady (she and Gilost are cousins of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant)
Sírdhim 120 Ladreníl’s father

Caladel 53 Father of Caladithil, patrol leader
Emeldir 45 Mother of Caladithil, daughter of Nestad of Taurnand
Caladithil 12 Errand boy

Faelon 67 Father of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant, patrol leader
Arthiell 62 Mother of Baisael, Braniell, & Balrant, sister of Alpheth
Baisael 30 Ranger
Braniell 22 Young lady (these 3 are cousins of Gilost & Gaerwen)
Balrant 7 Little boy

Talagan 55 Father of Alvist & Imlos, uncle of Rosruin, Ranger
Linnor 47 Mother of Alvist & Imlos, sister of Laereth of Taurnand
Alvist 15 Boy, gate guard (he and Imlos are cousins of Rosruin, Eradan, & Laegrist)
Imlos 1 Baby girl
Rosruin 16 Boy, gate guard. Orphaned, lives with his Uncle Talagan’s family.

MISCELLANEOUS RANGERS:

Daedaen 45 Member of Faelon’s patrol
Remlas 31 Member of Faelon’s patrol

FROM TAURNAND:

Thalion 65 Father of Laegrist & Eradan, Patrol leader
Laereth 60 Mother of Laegrist & Eradan, sister of Linnor
Laegrist 28 Ranger
Eradan 19 Young man (he and Laegrist are cousins of Alvist & Imlos)

Mellonar 101 Husband of Nínael, teaches swordplay
Nínael 92 Wife of Mellonar

Nestad 89 Father of Emeldir and has a daughter in Forntaur. Healer.

Hirgon 48 Father of Celin & Culas, Ranger
Rían 45 Mother of Celin & Culas, severely injured in Taurnand fires
Celin 9 Little girl, injured in Taurnand
Culas 9 Little boy, injured in Taurnand

Tadion 70 Father of Beraid, Miniel, & Tadiel. Wife and Son died in Taurnand. Ranger.
Beraid 27 Ranger
Miniel 17 Girl, both girls live in Estel’s house & are cared for by Hareth
Tadiel 16 Girl

Maldathor 55 Father of Héthurin and a son who died in Taurnand. Ranger
Hareth 50 Mother of Héthurin, lives in Estel’s house.
Héthurin 14 Girl

RANGERS FROM FORNTAUR:

Tathor 51 Leader of patrol
Norgalad 38 Betrothed to Gaerwen of Dolomar
Baranor 40 Son-in-law of Nestad

BANDITS:

Galt Thornapple 48 Leader
Will Larkspur 19 Youngest
Kenrick Hosta 26
Beck Nightshade 35
Dale Sundew 40 Second in command & Kenrick’s uncle

PEOPLE OF BREE:

Lee Appledore 40s Mayor
Clay Rushlight 40s Member of council
Edwin Goatleaf 40s Member of council
Tolman Underhill 40s A hobbit from Staddle and member of council
Barclay Butterbur 40s Owner of the Prancing Pony
Bill 30s Guard
Nibs 30s Hobbit that works at the Prancing Pony