Eve clapped her hands enthusiastically upon arriving at the cabin. Her bold personality did not at the moment match her thin figure. Every little move she made caused pain in a different part of her body. Though her attempts to withstand the pain were bold, they were in vain.
Strider looked at his daughter worriedly and took her horse's reins. "I will tend to the horses and meet you in the cabin. I will be back."
His speech was repetitive as he reassured his daughter, as though he was afraid to have her out of his sight.
Things had changed between them since that day when Eve had been injured. They were closer and Strider held all the more concern for his daughter. Eve was coming to love her father.
However, after the orc attack, she was not sure if she had made the right choice in going with him. She did not feel like she could make it far in this new life.
Eve could only ruminate on these thoughts as she looked around her new home, wondering how she could adjust the place to accommodate two.
She wondered where all of the other Rangers were, not recalling if they lived close or afar to each other. They seemed to have been a tight knit community so why were they here, in the middle of the forest, all alone?
Eve was too sleepy to really figure it out. Maybe she would ask later.
When Strider finished tending to the weary horses, he went to meet Eve.
Inside the cabin was small, smaller than he remembered, as well as unexpectedly untidy. The room was also musty from all the weeks it had been left absent. A small singular wooden table stood dusty in the corner and a modest candle holder stood on the table with a meer nub of a candle on it. The dirt floor was grubby and uninviting. It was mixed with dust as well. A cabinet on the wall held a limited assortment of dishes and a single window welcomed in the late-evening sunlight. On Strider's straw bed lay Eve, fast asleep.
Strider sighed, fear climbing into his chest. She had been so tired since the incident but should it not have gone away by now? Maybe he was too critical of her wound. The consequences were dire here. He had just gotten ahold of Eve after seventeen years. Affection for your child was built into instinct. Strider's mere instinctual love had been replaced with desperation ever since he lost her. The grief of her absence was increased with the guilty feeling of failing Arwen. Now that he had met her grown adolescent self, he was feeling love in his chilled heart already.
Eve's pack was still on her back and Strider carefully took it off. When he had positioned his daughter in a way that was more comfortable, he realized that he was at as much peace as he could be with Eve in this state. He could not stop worrying. Was this what being a parent was like? This was what he had been missing the past seventeen years?
He had to admit it was not what he was expecting but then again he liked it more now that Eve had been familiarized with him. He only hoped she would make it. He hoped she could survive the gruesome injury, especially after all of the intensive care he had put into healing it.
And there he went, worrying again before he drifted off in his wooden chair.
Strider was awoken by a low mumbling voice. It took him awhile to realize the sound came from his daughter. She seemed disturbed but still lay asleep, murmuring through her unconsciousness. Aragorn checked her forehead, not surprised to find it running hot.
He gave his daughter water and checked her wound. The swelling had gone down but the blacked bruises remained. Eve was in a much better condition, all except for her newfound fever that had her boiling. Strider hoped beyond hope that this fever wasn't caused by infection, or worse, poison. He hoped it was caused by her body trying to repair itself and that it would pass soon. The blade that had impaled Eve didn't look poisoned but all orc metal was evil.
Nightmares corrupted her mind, Strider knew, for her exhaustion and recent shocking encounter would have her dreams terrorized. Tears seeped from under her eyes and slipped onto her sun kissed cheeks.
Eve was so very beautiful. Strider knew that he had inherited so much from him. She had his grey eyes, the same dark hair, as well as matching dark skin. It became her and, somehow, she managed to remind him of her mother every day. She reminded him so much of Arwen in words and in stature, almost painfully so.
While Eve slept, Strider stroked her forehead and took her warm hands. Finally the whimpering ceased and was replaced with some weeping that tore at his heart.
Strider remembered all those years ago and the night he had sang to his little girl as they rode through the blackness of winter. That night Eve had seen the stars and snow for the first time and she was the only one he sang to. He remembered her eyes, bright and curious, staring out. She was so perfect. His family had been so perfect. Strider had sang that night, knowing he would be the only one to remember it. The song was a song of old and he could not remember where he had originally heard it. It was a song from the strong nation Gondor.
"Tall ships and tall kings,
Three times three,
What brought they from foundered land?
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones,
And one white tree."
When he had finished, Eve's weeping quieted but remained. Strider dabbed her blazing forehead with a cold cloth and held her hands still. He resang his song and drifted to sleep by her side.
In his dream, he held the baby Eve, then called Lessien, and sang to her while he stood beside his wife Arwen.
A dark shadow came and its wickedness filled the room as it tore the babe from his arms and whisked his wife away. He was left in darkness and sat there for eternity before he saw his child, almost fully grown, as she was murdered in front of him by a familiar, yet distorted face. His wife was reunited with him for one brief moment before she too was taken away and locked up forever. The pain was too much. The wicked shadow appeared again and a banging filled his ears at the creature's arrival.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
That was when he awoke to someone knocking at his door as well as a thunder storm raging outside.
Strider quickly grabbed his sword, glancing at his slumbering daughter before he attended the door. He opened the door and was greeted by a young, blond-haired elf standing in the doorway.
"Are you Strider?" he asked plainly. His eyes were an astonishing blue.
Strider stood there in a stupor. What was this? Who was this? Slowly, he replied, "Some call me that. What is your business here, stranger?"
"I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. He was the one who sent me here."
Strider still scrutinized this strange elf, surprised by Thranduil's name. It was a name he had not heard for a long time. "Why have you come?" he asked.
"My father told me to come," Legolas repeated. "He said I should come to learn from you and train by a Ranger's side. You are some of the deadliest warriors on Middle Earth. My father said it would do me good to come here."
Strider could tell there was more this Legolas hoped to add.
"Unfortunately, I have already taken on an apprentice. Also, I want nothing to do with any elven royalty," he said bitterly, slamming the door on his face. His mind raced with thoughts of Elrond and wondered if it was fair to hold this prejudice against woodland elves as well.
Legolas quickly stuck his arms out and stopped the door from closing. "Wait! Please. Please. I need this. I have nowhere to go. I just need time. Please. I just need something. My father has practically expelled me from my kingdom."
Strider stiffly nodded his head, unable to deny him after his pleads, reminded of when he had been backstabbed and banished. His mouth stuck in a straight line, for he wasn't the first one who came to train under a Ranger's instruction. He was not so keen on this elf but he could not ignore the desperation in his voice.
He allowed Legolas in because it was storming and he sat at the wooden table.
Legolas's gaze swept the small cabin and his eyes fell upon the window awkwardly.
Strider suppressed a frown, noticing the young elf's interest. "She is my daughter," he explained, making conversation.
"She has elven blood?" Legolas asked.
"Yes, from her mother," Strider replied.
"I figured by the way she looked," Legolas observed.
Strider nodded, understanding. "She doesn't look much like her mother." He paused and continued hesitantly, "I must rest. You should too, training begins tomorrow." Strider adjusted himself in his uncomfortable chair, not interested in speaking any longer.
He also had the sneaking suspicion that Legolas needed hardly any training at all.
Legolas gazed at the girl and could have stayed that way all night if he had not dozed off too.