The Exile's Daughter

Silver linings

Galdor had found nothing remarkable about the orcs, so he joined us again. After much effort, there was a stone cairn raised around the three men. We stood for a moment, admiring our work with a sense of righteousness, if not satisfaction.

However, as we stood staring at the grave, I spotted something in the grass. "Estel!"

I picked it up, discovering that it was a pouch, tied together by cheap string. Galdor bent down, squinting at it in the gloaming darkness. Undoing the ties, we looked upon a dried leaf-like substance, ruined by the mud. I smelled it experimentally, wrinkling my nose. "Orcs do not smoke pipe weed." I said to them. Aragorn took  the pouch from me.

"This is Shire-grown." He said in amazement, pressing his nose closer to the substance. "The Southfarthing. How on earth did they get it?"

"Could it not have belonged to a ranger?" Galdor asked.

Aragorn shook his head, taking out his own tobacco pouch to compare them. "Look at the cloth. It is poor quality, but it is of other origin than ours."

"And look!" I drew his attention back to the ground. "A boot print sits next to it, and something else." I shifted forwards, picking out another length of string from the grass. On it was hung a rough piece of wood, which opened out in the middle. A sketch of a child was inside, a small boy of around five, at a guess. I stared down at his grinning face, wondering whether he would one day become the kind of man his father must be.

"This is cut from the woods of Dunland." Aragorn took the locket and squinted at it, trying to see in the pre-dawn light. We looked at each other warily. "Ness-"

"I know." I said, before he could verbalise the fear we all felt. "The same cause of death, from men of the same origin. These could be the killers of my family."

He put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. "If that be the case, we will hunt them down, and ensure they do no further harm to you."

He couldn't promise that. No one in Arda could make such a pledge. This place was perilous to me, and for a moment I questioned my foolhardiness, coming out here so unprepared. I could always go, if I wanted. No one would blame me for backing out.

I stood. The wishes of my heart were folly, and I loved these rangers, now. I would fight for them until my dying breath, if that was what must be. "We have done enough. We all need to rest and take care of ourselves after this night."

"And bathe" Aragorn contributed. "All I can smell is-"

He paused, but I knew. I pulled him to his feet and in silence we begun the long walk home.

We were the last back, as I had expected. Aragorn was nothing if not thorough in the protection of his dwindling people, so the sun had crept up over the valley when we finally returned. There was still a spring in my light steps, but the men stumped along beside me. Aragorn was hardy, indeed, but even he struggled after weeks of little rest. Galdor was already half-asleep.

Legolas was eating by the fire, newly kindled in the fresh light of a new day. We waved to him but didn't pause yet. I ran into my hut for a change of clothes, creeping past my sleeping cousins.

I helped Aragorn to drag the tin bathtub into his room, and we took turns standing outside while the other washed. Once we had clean clothes free of the scent of death, I felt a little better about the night's events. We had done our best, at the least, and discovered much that may be of use in the protection of the camp, however foreboding it seemed.

"Sleep", I said immediately, when we paused outside Aragorn's window. I reached out to grip his shoulder. He reciprocated with a smile and a nod, then walked inside. I watched for a few moments, checking he wasn't pretending, then crossed to our hut, and opened our door quietly.