The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

Treachery of the River

Several days into the voyage saw the land change. Miril had never been this far East of the Mountains, but she had heard the stories of the Brown Lands that lay East of the Anduin from elves in Lorien. No one quite knew how the Enemy managed to so completely destroy the area now called the Brown Lands. For no stump, no log, no rock was left. Just brown, lifeless ground was there. It was depressing to the company to look that way.

On the Western bank were reeds and grasses so high, no one could see over them. But Miril knew that beyond them lay the land of the Riddermark, the land of the Rohirrim. She could barely tell that Aragorn was explaining something up in the first boat to Frodo and Sam. As for herself, she was content to paddle along in time with Legolas.

The fourth night they pulled their boats onto a section of the West bank where the reeds halted and were replaced by solid ground and green grass. Aragorn and Miril took second watch after Boromir and Legolas. The moon was high in the sky, beginning to sink down again, when they took up their posts. They were silent most of the time, speaking only in short conversations.

"I'm sure it is him, Aragorn. He has been tracking us since we left Lothlorien," Miril growled angrily.

Aragorn nodded, watching the swift moving water carefully. "I know. Gollum is tricky. He has eluded my attempts at catching him."

They went back to the intense silence, listening only to the coursing water and sounds of the birds and bugs. Miril traced the metal outline of Elrohir's brooch as it was pinned to her chest. She was going over in her head all her interactions with him as of late. For she was beginning to realize something.

Did she love him? Did he love her?

She enjoyed his company to anyone else's. Even Elladan's did not bring her the same intense feelings she got when Elrohir was around. Elladan was more of a big brother. But Elrohir... with Elrohir it was different. She couldn't even describe it. She hadn't realized it until now.

She'd had plenty of time to decode the hidden meaning behind the brooch these past few days. At first, she'd thought it was merely a sweet gesture. Now, she wasn't so sure. In fact, she was nearly convinced it had been his small way of expressing his love to her.

And that frightened her. She was terrified at the prospect of falling in love. She was a Ranger, a hunter, a warrior. She had no time for love. But... she wanted love.

"Aragorn," she said softly near the end of their shift as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

"Yes?" He prompted.

She fingered the brooch. "Do you think he loves me?"

Aragorn smiled, not looking at her. Instead he looked out over the river, past their sleeping companions.

"Definitely."

"Oh."

Miril smiled a tiny smile. At least she had her answer. And she decided she was glad. Because yes, she did love him.

She was sad for one reason, and one reason only. She wasn't sure she'd ever see him again to let him know.

They roused the company shortly thereafter. Getting back in the boats was frustrating, but they all knew it was necessary, and certainly better, and faster, than walking down the Anduin.

That day of travel was the last time they traveled by sunlight. Apparently Sam had spotted Gollum yet again, and as they grew ever more south, Aragorn decided it would be best to travel by night and twilight. So they switched tactics. They paddled for longer periods of time, endeavoring to perhaps lose Gollum in the water.

The days passed largely without incident until they became aware of a change of scenery yet again. Now, instead of the brown lands and large reeds, they came upon rocky cliffs. They were approaching the Emyn Muil.

"Legolas," Aragorn said one evening as they began to prepare for their nightly voyage. "Is that what I think it is? Far off in the distance?"

Everyone looked to where he pointed. Miril, too, could make out a distinctly avian form. But it took Legolas' elf eyes to confirm it.

"Indeed!" Legolas nodded. "It is a great eagle of the Mountains. It seems to be searching for something. See how it circles?"

"I wonder what it is doing so far from its hunting grounds?" Aragorn looked lost in thought. "We shall not venture out until it is completely dark."

They waited another two hours before embarking on the seventh night of travel. Miril pushed the boat out and hopped into the back, careful not to rock it. After all, their boat had most of the supplies.

"Gimli," she asked as they paddled along several hours later. "What is it like, under the Mountain? I have been many places, but never to Erebor."

Gimli immediately perked up instantly. "It is beautiful, Miril. Beautiful! The gems and the caverns and the torch light!"

"I hope to see it someday," she smiled.

"When all this mess is over you would be welcome in my home," Gimli nodded. "King Dain would be a wonderful host, I assure you. And you could visit Dale! Dale is a magnificent city of Men."

Miril laughed gently. "I look forward to it."

The next night, night number eight, was to be a fateful one. Aragorn, reckoning the rapids were still at least a day's journey away, decided to risk one more night. But as it turned out, the rapids were closer than he thought.

The boats tossed and heaved on the rapids. They were being pulled towards the Eastern bank when something even more sinister happened.

"Yrch!" Legolas cried as arrows began falling among them. "Yrch!"

"Elbereth preserve us," Miril sighed, paddling as hard as she could against the current and away from the Eastern bank.

Aragorn was shouting orders but she wasn't focus on that. She was simply focused on her paddle. In, out, in, out. Slowly the boats turned. As of yet, no arrow had struck its mark. Either they were extremely lucky, or the cloaks of Lorien were doing wondrous things. At last they reached the bank when suddenly a chill swept over the company.

A great, winged shape blotted out the moon. It flew overhead. Miril felt the scar on her face from the Nazgul's blade begin to hurt and then feel cold and numb.

Legolas stood up and hopped into the western bank. He drew out the bow of Lothlorien and fitted and arrow on the string.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," he sighed.

Releasing the arrow, it sped into the night and hit the shadow. It plummeted to the ground on the Eastern bank and the orcs cheers were silenced and turned to remorseful moans and cries.

The company all pulled their boats onto the shore and into the bushes. Miril nodded to Legolas.

"Well done," she said.

Gimli, too, praised the elf. "Praised be the bow of Galadriel, and the arm and hand of Legolas. That was a mighty shot, my friend."

"But who can say what it hit?" Legolas shrugged.

"I cannot," Gimli shook his head.

Miril echoed his thoughts. "Nor I."

"It reminded me of.. Of the balrog," Gimli said softly.

"It was not a balrog." Frodo spoke up, "I think it was... no. I will not say what I think."

Boromir pressed him for answers but when it was clear nothing would come of it, they eventually left it alone. Aragorn ordered they rest for the remained of the night. Legolas and Gimli took first watch.