The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

Shadow of Caranthir

"Mír?" She heard Elrohir's quiet voice behind the door. "Open up please, melda."

She wiped the tears from her face but didn't respond or move.

"Míril, let me in." He sighed and pleaded with her. "Let me help you. Please!"

With a sigh and as she began to cry again, she stood and slowly unlocked the door. She opened it a crack and looked at Elrohir's face through the slit. He looked at her like no one else in the world ever did and she broke, letting him inside.

"They don't deserve us coming in peacefully," Míril choked through her tears as Elrohir closed the door behind him. "We should march in with an army."

Elrohir shook his head and pulled her into a tight hug. "Fighting won't bring your farther back, Mír. Fighting only brings more death."

"Death for the Haradrim, maybe. But they deserve it." Míril was growing angry. "They all deserve death! Let us give it to them!"

Elrohir sighed. "Nay. They are men, people like Gondorians. They were corrupted by evil, they are not evil themselves. Perhaps they can be helped."

"Helped?!" Míril was growing fell and fey in her fierce anger. "Helped?! No, my love. They should be cut down as they did my father."

Elrohir looked at her with pity and love. This was not Míril. This was her anger and hatred.

"As they did my father..." she trailed off in choking tears and sunk to the ground. "They murdered him. They murdered him, Elrohir! He shouldn't have died then!"

Elrohir grabbed her in his arms and held her, allowing her to cry as long as she needed. Eventually she fell asleep in his arms and he lifted her up, placing her on the bed. From there he left the room quietly and returned to the sitting area where he found Maglor looking long and hard into the fire and Elladan inventoring their supplies.

"That was not like Míril," Elrohir sighed. "I have never seen her quite that rageful. She has always been one to seek vengeance and justice, but that was extreme."

"That," Maglor sighed, not moving his eyes from the fire. "That was the blood of Fëanor. As I feared, it appears she has inherited my brother's rage and my father's thirst for revenge. That is a dangerous combination, Elrohir."

"She will choose the right path, I know it," Elrohir assured him. "She is good."

"So was I, once," Maglor reminded him. "Then I swore an oath in my anger and my rage, and everything I did brought ruin and death."

Both twins stopped what they were doing and looked at each other.

"We will not let that happen," Elrohir growled. "I will die before I let Míril do something so rash and deadly."

Maglor got up and walked past him. "Be careful, or that might just come true. Kinslaying runs in the family."

Maglor went to his room and closed the door behind him. He had heard the conversation between the two married half-elves. Míril had sounded far too like his brother Caranthir for his liking. And her thirst for revenge had been exactly what had driven his father to madness and death. In fact it had been over the loss of Fëanor's own father, Finwë, that caused the entire incident. That and the theft of the Silmarils were the reason for so much pain in the world.

In the common room, Elladan sighed and began repacking the supplies into the travelers' bags. He looked at Elrohir as he stood and gave a curt smile and nod.

"She will be fine, brother. Trust me. We know Míril better than Maglor. She is not Caranthir and she is not Fëanor. She is Míril, trusted by Lady Galadriel and our father Elrond!" Elladan placed and arm on his twin's shoulder. "And she is your bride. She would never harm you."

Elrohir nodded. "I know. It just saddens me to see her like that. So filled with anger. When that happens, she is rash and gets herself into danger and trouble."

"Dinner is not in too long," Elladan commented, picking up his own bags to put them in his room. "And then after that, I thought perhaps we could all go down to the beach for sunset. It might make Míril feel better."

And that is what they did. Right before dinner, Míril finally woke and came out to join the others. Her eyes were still slightly red and puffy from her crying but she had control of herself now.

After dinner, the three half-elves decided to go down to the beach, leaving Maglor behind at the Guest House. They made the walk through the wonderfully warm June air down the stone paths and steps until they finally reached the docks. From there they walked down a few more steps to the beach.

The sand was still somewhat warm to the touch despite the setting sun. They looked West as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Behind the mountains it sunk, twilight casting it's half light, half darkness across the land.

Míril sat in the sand, taking her shoes off and letting her feet sink into the white grains. Elladan and Elrohir sat beside her.

"Look at the moon," Elrohir pointed. "And the stars are particularly bright tonight, I believe."

"Ele," Elladan nodded. "Star. The first word ever spoken by elves, it's said."

"Lady Elbereth's crowning jewels," Elrohir agreed.

Míril nodded, closed her eyes with a soft smile, and listened to the sea. She felt at peace here. She could almost hear the voices of Ossë and Ulmo in the crashing of the waves.

"How rare and beautiful is the sea, too," Míril murmured, standing up and walking forward so that the waves danced about her feet. "So powerful and yet teeming with life. Strange."

"The ocean is wonderful, indeed." Elladan nodded. "And it calls all of us home, even us peredhil."

"Perhaps someday I will go over the sea," she murmured quietly.

"Perhaps. Remain calm and do the will of the Valar and of Illuvatar, and one day you might." She heard a voice speak to her. Ulmo.

She knew what she had said earlier was wrong. But she wished she could say she hadn't meant any of it. Míril couldn't say that, though. She had meant it. And it was going to take everything she had, all of her willpower, to resist acting on her rage.