The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

Promises Kept

They rode through dusk, evening, night, and dawn. The air was chilly and Miril was sleepy despite the few hours' rest they had been allotted half way through the night. She longed for a bath and a bed, a warm supper and clean clothes. She hoped they would find that at Edoras with the Rohirrim. Éomer had seemed kind enough. Miril could tell her horse was exhausted. She saw that his muscles were bulging beneath her and she was glad when morning came and Legolas spoke up.

"Look!" he said as they halted for a few moments' rest. "A house of gold at the foot of the Mountains upon a large, green hill. Other homesteads I see as well. Is that Edoras, Gandalf?"

"It is indeed, Legolas. The great golden hall is Meduseld, the home of King Theoden of Rohan. Do not draw your weapons nor use haughty word. This is their land." Gandalf insisted this. "Let us ride on!"

Miril was very excited, quivering with anticipation. Up until now, all folk she had met were ones she knew of previously. But she had never been to Rohan. She had heard stories from Aragorn when he would visit her in Rivendell during his travels. He would tells stories of his journeys through Rohan and Gondor, of his time in the courts of Thengel under the guise Thorongil.

"Aragorn!" Miril shouted, running forward towards the man who was her uncle in all ways but by blood. "Aragorn!"

"Hello, Miril," he smiled, bending down to one knee and embracing the girl. "How is Rivendell treating you?"

The fourteen year old girl smiled. "Wonderfully! I just miss my father. He visits, but not often enough."

Aragorn nodded knowingly. "I understand. Tell you what, after I speak with Lord Elrond, I will tell you a story before bed. Is it not growing close to that time?"

Miril sighed, looking up at the sky. The moon was growing steadily higher. She nodded and walked past the Last Homely House to where her bedroom was. She prepared for bed, dressing in her nightgown and washing her face with a bucket of clean water. She climbed into bed after making sure her door was unlocked so Aragorn could get in. Miril sat under the covers, the candles in her room lighting it up just enough for her to stay awake.

Aragorn knocked on the door softly before slipping inside. He took off his cloak and sat down in a chair that he pulled over to the side of the bed. Miril smiled though her eyes drooped from sleepiness.

"What do you wish to hear about?" he asked with a smile.
Miril shrugged. "What about your time in Rohan?"

Aragorn nodded in satisfaction. "You always did like those tales."

Miril snuggled beneath the blankets and sheets and waited for her friend to continue. Aragorn sat back and started his tale.

"Many long years ago, I served as a member of Rohan under King Thengel, and Gondor as well, as a man named Thronogil..."

They rode on, coming closer and closer to Edoras until they were right on top of the settlement. They dismounted their horses and walked up the hill to the entrance of the Golden Hall. They were halted by two guards who spoke in Rohirric.

"Can you not tell we are visitors," Gandalf sighed. "Speak in the Common Tongue!"

"We have been told not to allow guests save those that speak and understand our tongue," one of the guards finally said. "And you are a wizard, are you not? Are you a spell of Saruman's? Some conjured witchcraft?"

"Nay we are not phantoms." Aragorn shook his head, stepping forward. "These are your horses which were lent to us by Éomer, Third Marshal of the Mark. He bid us return them and speak to your master."

"It was only two days ago that Wormtongue came to us and told us not to admit visitors. But perhaps some news has reached the King then regarding your visit, if what you say is true. Give me your names, and I will relay them to the King," the guard nodded.

"I am Gandalf. I have returned, brought by Shadowfax, lord of the Mearas, given to me by your King." He paused before continuing. "My companions are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Kings. Here also are Legolas the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf. Last, but not less than the others, is Miril, a half elf of the West."

The man looked upon them in wonder. He went inside and relayed the information to whoever he needed to speak to. Miril shuffled her feet as she waited impatiently. Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder and she stood still.

They were approached by a new man who came out the door. "I am Háma, doorwarden of Theoden. Here I must ask you lay down your weapons before entering."

Legolas nodded and stepped forward, handing over his bow. "Keep these well, for they are from the Lady of the Golden Wood."

Aragorn and Miril both hesitated.

"I do not wish to place Anduril into the hands of anyone but my own," Aragorn protested.

"But it is the will of Theoden, Lord of the Golden Hall," Háma reminded him immediately.

"I am not sure that even though he be lord of Rohan, that Elendil's heir should bend to his will." Aragorn looked at him stubbornly.

Gandalf sighed. "Come, Aragorn. We must go in."

Aragorn sighed. "Very well. But here I place it, and death will surely come to any who touch it. For this is Anduril, the shards of Narsil reforged, Flame of the West. See no man touches it."

Háma looked upon him in wonder. "It shall be done, lord."

Gimli nodded. "If my axe has Anduril to keep it company, then I suppose I will lay it down."

At last, all eyes fell on Miril. She fingered the mithril hilt of her sword with her hands and frowned. Why should she give up her sword? It would be easy pickings for any petty thief, and it was much more powerful, forged by Fëanor himself, than any ordinary sword.

"Miril?" Gandalf prompted.

She glared at the ground but nodded. "Very well. Though the same vow that Aragorn laid upon Anduril is upon this sword. See that no one touch it, or you will die. For this is Galmegil, Sword of Light. And it belongs to me."

Aragorn looked at her sidelong. When had she decided on a name for the sword?

She shrugged in response to his obvious silent question. She'd tell him some other time.

Háma nodded quickly. "Of course, lady. Now, Gandalf, I'm afraid I must ask you put down your staff."

Gandalf glared, "It is one thing to request that weapons be placed at the door. But my walking stick? It is but a prop, a help."

"In the hands of a wizard, a staff could be much more." Háma sighed. "But very well. Follow me."

The five companions walked into the large hall. Miril was amazed at the architecture. It reminded her a bit like the halls of the Beornings, with stories carved into the wooden beams. An old man sat, frail, in a throne at the end of the hall. Beside him sat a sickly, disheveled looking man. A great fire roared in the hall.

"Hail, Theoden son of Thengel. I have returned. For the storm comes, and now all friends should unite as one."