The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

Familial Comfort

Miril somehow found herself in a beautiful garden area. Beautiful, of course, being a relative term as everything in Lothlorien was considered beautiful. Elanor and Niphredil sprinkled the patches of earth. Other flowers, some blue, some purple, some yellow, were interspersed expertly.

She remained in the garden, wandering among the flowers, for several hours. It gave her time to think. She thought about many things, but mostly about Mithrandir. She was deeply, deeply saddened by his death. She felt lost, hopeless. Miril wondered how they would succeed in their quests without him as their guide? He was their foundation. Gandalf was the rock on which they built their hopes!

And now that rock was gone.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed as she surveyed a particularly pretty set of pink flowers.

Back at camp, part of the Fellowship was having a similar conversation about a different person.

"What are we going to do, Strider?" Pippin asked the ranger. "She was obviously really upset!"

"We haven't seen her in hours." Merry nodded.

"I'm sure she's fine," he reassured them. "She's an adult. She can handle herself."

However it wasn't long before Aragorn went out to look for his friend. He wasn't exactly concerned about her, after all, she was in Lothlorien. She wasn't about to wander off into some dangerous situation.

But Aragorn knew she was rash and quick tempered, much like her forefather Caranthir who was known for exactly those characteristics. It was something she must have inherited from the Feanorian side. And more often than not those traits got her into trouble.

"Excuse me," Aragorn stopped a guard. "Have you seen another Dunedain, a woman? She's a half elf with dark hair. She should stand out among your blonde kindred."

"Indeed." The guard nodded. "She passed by this way several hours ago, heading towards the palace gardens."

"Thank you," Aragorn said in relief.

He continued along the path to the left as the guard had instructed. The path was covered in small pebbles that were quite smooth and made a pleasant sound as they crunched beneath his boots. On either side of the pebbled path was grass so green it surpassed even the grasses of Rivendell. Only the grass on Cerin Amroth was of a richer hue and sweeter scent.

Soon Aragorn came upon a large, arching trellis covered in white roses and green vines. It was the entrance to the gardens of Galadriel. To either side now were beds of beautiful flowers, some exotic, some native to that area of Middle Earth. Blues and whites and reds richer than those even found in the Shire added to the overall beauty of the path.

The sound of splashing water alerted Aragorn to the presence of the large swan fountain before he even saw it. Surrounding the fountain and covered by a Mallorn tree for shade were several flat, marble benches. Upon one sat Miril, her face turned away from Aragorn as she surveyed the swan fountain.

"Miril."

She straightened up but didn't turn to face her friend. In response, Aragorn walked forward and sat next to her on the cool stone bench. The chill surprised him at first touch, but it did not deter him.

"He should not have died, Aragorn," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "There is too much left that he needs to do."

Aragorn sighed. "I know, my friend. I know. I fear this as well. I... I do not know what course of action to take now. All I knew of Gandalf's plan was that he intended for us to shelter here after Moria. Past that..."