Dawnstar and Friend

Eleanor’s POV
It was 2933, roughly two years after we had joined the Grey Company, calling that village up north our home. We were now accepted and respected members of the Dunedan army, no longer held back in battle and rather competent.
Our elfin abilities had made Miriel and I well respected trackers as well and we had all found our niche among the Dunedan.
Today we were escorting Arathorn, Gilraen, and the now walking Aragorn, who was also immensely cute.
Our patrol group had been chosen as escort because our next patrol would be in a region slightly south of the village we were going to; the one Gilraen came from.
The region was getting more troubled hence the large escort, but it was also chosen for the presence of females, it would not have been proper for Gilraen to have travelled as sole female amongst a group of men.
It was an immensely enjoyable trip, with little Aragorn happily being passed between the laps of the 4 females in the group.
It came out of the blue, by the time our elfin senses picked it up, it was already too late.
We were passing through a valley, what in hindsight was a perfect ambush sight, when flowing over the tops of the hills around us came more Orcs on their Wargs than I could conveniently count.
I passed Aragorn back to Gilraen and drew my sword, as everyone around me was doing.
Arathorn yelled to get Gilraen and his son to safety.
So, Miriel, several of the male rangers, and I formed up around her and charged our way out of the valley and didn’t stop running until dusk. Ginny stayed behind with Locien the healer in case they were needed.
As night was falling, we used the woodland to set up a concealed camp, wondering if we dared to send someone to check on the fate of the rest of the party.
We decide to wait until the next morning.
The next morning, not far from our camp is our patrol leader, one of the ones who stayed behind.
He comes over to Gilraen and tells us the horrible news.
Arathorn is dead and the infant on her lap is now chieftain of the Dunedan.
We hold a conference on what to do now, it is not like the chief is in much of a position to tell us.
Eventually we decide to honour Arathorn’s last wishes and take Gilraen and Aragorn to safety, Rivendell it is decided. The dangers of the Angle are too great for the little child to grow up in.
The remnants of our patrol group who stayed with Arathorn will take his body to be buried and us who escorted Gilraen and Aragorn away would take her to Rivendell. Ginny is also accompanying us back to Rivendell for she has been immensely quiet since she rejoined our group and I think seeing the elves again may help to cheer her up.
Though the pace we take is not as strained as the one we took when we ran from Mirkwood it is still fast, as fast as human horses can go.
It is a bittersweet reunion with the elfin haven. I am very happy to be back in the city, but would rather it were not so melancholy a reason for us being back there.
Elrond, who is unchanged and probably unchangeable, greets us on the steps joyfully, but sobers when he realises that something is wrong.
He immediately orders rooms prepared for all of us, or in the case of Ginny, Miriel and I, for our maids to be called.
We are bathed and, for the first time in a disturbingly long time, dressed in those lovely elfin dresses. Ginny has some of her gowns sent to Gilraen who is approximately the same size, but lacks in elfin apparel.
After changing we go straight to Elrond’s office with Gilraen and a sleepy Aragorn in tow.
Though his expression does not change his eyes show his emotion at our news. Once we have finished he is silent for what seems forever. Eventually he states that he will become the boy’s foster father and will care for him in Rivendell. This results in both Aragorn and Gilraen having permanent quarters prepared for them.
After this we talk some more and Elrond decides that giving him an alternate name for his stay would be a good idea, to conceal his identity.
At this point, I try desperately not to say anything that hints at the name Estel, or hope. I am rather thankful when they come up with that name on their own.
We girls also agree to stay long enough to help our friends settle in, as Gilraen had helped us when joining the Dunedan.
After that rather sombre conversation, we go to a private meal and finally reacquaint ourselves with our elfin friends and family.
We discover that Arwen is in Lorien and plans to stay there for another couple of decades or so.
It is nice to know that Gilraen also found the way the elves brush off entire decades as if they are weeks slightly disturbing.
The next day the twins take little Aragorn under their wing and I suddenly worry what he will come out like with them setting an example.
A few days later, the rest of our patrol group who are with us, leave to go back. We tell them that we are not sure when we will return. They nod solemnly, understanding both that we have agreed to stay with Gilraen and that we had become very close with their chief’s family in the time we had been in the Grey Company.
I didn’t truly want to go back to the village; it would not be the same as before without Arathorn. I knew I would have to at sometime, but not just yet, the grief was too near.
I hid it from everyone else but there was at least one time I cried myself to sleep. I am not very good at grief and prefer to hide it.
***
Over the next several months, we helped the acclimatisation process and were quite often hit by sudden grief, the pangs of which lessened only with time.
It was one of the few times I was glad that I had been brought up as a human, as I saw that Miriel was having rather more trouble dealing than Ginny and I were.
A few talks with her revealed that even though she had got used to the human notion of death, she had never been hit with the race’s likelihood of doing so and it was hurt her terribly.
***
After a few months, Gilraen and Aragorn were well used to the elfin city and being part of Elrond’s family, but Ginny, Miriel and I were beginning to suffer from wanderlust and we were having trouble returning to the relatively sedentary life in Rivendell, even if we often did practice fighting and stuff.
Eventually, once we were sure we had completed our promise to help the acclimatisation we looked to leaving again. We would not go back to Eriador just yet, it hurt too much, but we would go explore the rest of the world.
Only Maedhren seemed happy with us doing this, but in the words of the song: It’s my life.
Ginny’s POV
We’ve now been members of our patrol group for two years. I must also point out that we’re members of the cleanest patrol group – multiple stops by rivers etc; in fact, it’s become a saying among wives of other patrols that their husbands should join the elfin patrol, which is what our patrol has been called due to the presence of two elves. This would then mean that their husbands would come back relatively clean and fresh as well as being slightly more placid.
Miriel and Ellie are now highly respected trackers, whereas I’m now apprentice to Locien, the patrol’s healer. I’m also now more known by my law-name Nestawen.
Little Aragorn has turned into the cheekiest little toddler imaginable; one of his favourite tricks is to rummage in the packs of the rangers and steal some of their food which he will then eat when he is safely hidden inside a bush.
Of course everyone knows precisely what is going on, but they can’t do or say anything as Aragorn is the apple of his parents’ eyes and they won’t hear a word against him.
Though even Gilraen can’t deny that Aragorn is a bit of a handful when he makes to run off yet again when we stop for a rest, and so she’s extremely grateful for my little present of some leather baby-reins.
Fortunately though, his excessive releases of energy have tired him out and we girls all breathe a sigh of relief when he falls sleep in Ellie’s arms.
“Nestawen, are you alright?” It’s Locien, who’s looking slightly worried. As well he might for I have been nervously looking all around me for the past few minutes. My horse, a large, black stallion, has also been shying a bit.
“No. I don’t know why, I just can’t shake off the feeling that something’s not right. All the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up; maybe we shouldn’t have come through this valley, it’s far too exposed.”
The words are no sooner out of my mouth when my worst fears are realised.
Wave after wave of Wargs and their Orc riders come streaming over the hills. Miriel, Ellie, and several other rangers group around Gilraen and charge out of the valley to safety; I stay with Locien.
We make our first kills relatively easily, an Orc and Warg charge up to us, but we each shoot an arrow right at their heads; Locien’s lodges in the skull of the Orc, mine in the eye of the Warg.
I don’t really remember much after that for I quickly become separated from Locien. I feel as though I’m watching from outside my body. I don’t feel fear; I don’t feel anything.
Eventually, the onslaught of Orcs becomes thinner and we manage to drive them off. I start looking for Arathorn.
“Arathorn! Arathorn!” The ground is littered with bodies and I begin to half-run, half-stumble in my effort to look at each in turn.
I find Arathorn lying on his back a few feet away; his stomach has been slashed open. I kneel beside him and touch his hand; he’s already cold as ice. I then try to close his eyes, but they keep falling open so I cover him with his cloak.
It’s only now that I realise that I’m shaking and that my heart is pounding painfully.
I go up to the patrol leader,
“Lord Arathorn... is... is... is over there.” My voice is hoarse. “I must go tend to the wounded.”
I turn to go, but he holds me back,
“No, Nestawen, Locien can manage. You come with me and we’ll find the others.”
I’m very quiet on our ride.
Whilst the others are being told of Arathorn’s death, I find a lake and wash all the muck and blood from my hands, face, and arms.
***
When we arrive in Rivendell, I blindly follow Eama back to my rooms. I feel as though I’m auto-pilot; I go through the motions, but I feel numb; although I do send a few of my dresses to Gilraen.
The talk with Elrond buzzes about in my ears and I can only manage a few mouthfuls at dinner.
Quite soon into the meal, I put down my knife and fork,
“Excuse me.” I whisper.
I return to my rooms and go out on to the balcony. As I stand there, my eyes fill.
“Ginny?” The gentle, concerned voice identifies the speaker as Ada.
I turn to look at him and tears begin to fall slowly down my cheeks.
Within a minute, Ada has me in his arms and I lean against him, breaking down completely.
I’m rather glad when the rest of our patrol agrees to let us stay in Rivendell; I don’t want to go back to the Angle just yet.
After they’ve gone, Rivendell is rather quiet and melancholy; the only laughter comes from Aragorn, or ‘Estel’ as he’s to be called now, who’s too young to understand what’s happened. Even Ellie is unusually subdued; one morning I notice her that eyes look slightly red and swollen, but I know she prefers to grieve on her own so I don’t say anything about it.
***
Gradually the pain lessens and laughter once again fills the corridors.
Miriel, Ellie, and I find begin to find the old longing for adventure creeping back into our bodies.
We stay until we’re sure that Gilraen and Estel are fully settled and then we set out on our next set of adventures...