The remaining members of the Company had decided to gather together at the gates, where they would all part to leave on their various quests. Edhael and Taliel stood together, once more in traveling garb and ready to depart for Mirkwood. Gerithor, Glorfindel, Gloin, and Kalan were at the head of those that remained in the Company. Some forty rangers still stood with them, as well as the Blue Mountain dwarves and a small force of Lorien elves. Celeborn spared all that he could, but said that the defense of Lorien itself was still his primary concern.
Gerithor's eyes wandered to Gilian, who was busy offering words of encouragement to the other rangers. She had taken the role of captain naturally, and already had garnered respect from the other men. She was a born leader, and Gerithor felt assured that he had made the right choice in giving her that responsibility.
She seemed to notice that he was watching her, and looked up momentarily before quickly turning away. Gerithor wondered if perhaps she was intimidated by him... Or maybe she was just shy. Either way, he hoped that they would get the chance to talk on the road. He liked to know those whom he commanded well, and he knew very little about her.
"Lad!" Gerithor was shook from his thoughts by Kalan, who was literally shaking him by the arm.
"Huh? What?" Gerithor asked, his attention back on Kalan.
"Did you hear anythin' I just said?" He asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Uh, yes, about that..." Gerithor ran a hand through his hair, trying desperately to recall what the dwarf had been saying.
Kalan rolled his eyes and grinned. "I saw ya. She's a pretty lass, ain't she?"
Gerithor's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned disapprovingly. "Who?"
Kalan pointed at Gilian, and gave Gerithor a wry wink. "Her! I saw ya watchin' her with those big grey eyes of yours. Don't pretend ya weren't."
Gerithor shoved Kalan lightly, causing the dwarf to laugh. "I was just thinking that she is doing a good job leading is all." Gerithor felt strangely uncomfortable discussing the subject with his friend, especially since Kalan wasn't even slightly subtle about what he thought of the matter.
"Go talk to her, boy! Ya both need a friend if nothin' else!" Kalan thumped the ranger on the back before turning slightly serious. "She always sits alone, away from the others. I don't think she has many friends."
Gerithor pursed his lips together and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. It's good to know your soldiers."
"Ha, that's the spirit lad!" Kalan's eyes twinkled mischievously, and Gerithor knew exactly what the dwarf was up to. He let out a sigh and attempted to change the topic.
"What exactly were you talking about prior to this?"
Kalan waved his hand dismissively. "I was just sayin' how it's just like the old days again. Me, you, the open road! Plenty of orc heads to bash together!"
"Aye, only this time all of Middle Earth is at stake," Gerithor replied, his voice more grim than he had intended. Kalan grew serious as well, and the two stood in silence as they thought of all they had been through together.
They were interrupted from their thoughts by the arrival of Galadriel and Elrond, who were there to see them off. Elrond looked like a great elven general of old, his golden armor shining in the rising sun. Galadriel appeared queenly, though contained, as if she was holding in immeasurable power. Celeborn was not present, for he was orchestrating the city's defense.
"Today you depart my lands, and so you shall pass from light into the greater world, which is being consumed by darkness. But do not lose heart. For the might of the Valar is with you. Go forth, and you shall be known of in legend, defenders of Middle Earth." Galadriel raised both hands in farewell, and Elrond gave the entire company a respectful bow.
Gerithor walked over to Taliel and grasped her forearm in a traditional elvish farewell. "The thoughts and prayers of the Company will go with you, whatever road you may take."
Taliel, now once more in her ancient Noldorin armor, returned the gesture and bowed. "May the light of Earendil go with you, Gerithor Lastborn."
Kalan and Edhael stood beside them, and they solemnly shook hands and bowed. "Of all dwarves, Kalan, you are by far the finest I have had the pleasure of knowing."
Kalan grinned widely. "I could say the same of you! You're a right pleasant elf, lad, and don't you forget it!"
Gerithor shouldered his pack as he trudged ahead to the front of the Company, looking back one last time at his friends. They waved as they began to make their way up the northern road, and Gerithor led the Company along the eastern one. He felt saddened that he was unable to say farewell to Caledorn, but the elf had left early in the morning, and without a word to anyone as far as Gerithor was aware. Perhaps it was better that way... Caledorn wasn't one for long farewells after all.
The city of Caras Galadhon soon disappeared into the golden boughs of the trees, and Gerithor let out a wistful sigh as they set off on their journey once more.
There was little conversation among the Company, for the solemn nature of their quest held all in a mood of grim determination. They would march until they reached Esgaroth... And then the battle would begin that would decide it all.
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The golden trees soon began to give way to fields of green as they left the enchanted forest. The road would soon take them to the Anduin, which they would follow until they reached the outer eaves of southern Mirkwood. From there they would skirt around Dul Guldur and travel north along Mirkwood's eastern edge, until they came to the Celduin. Following it would take them directly to Esgaroth. All in all, it was a journey of about a week if they moved quickly and weren't harried by enemy forces. Gerithor hoped that they would be able to pass Dul Guldur unhindered, for its inhabitants had likely marched north to take part in the battle there.
The fields that surrounded them now were lush, and a pleasant mixture of white and violet flowers grew among the tall grass. Large bumblebees lazily buzzed from one flower to the next, having just been awakened from a long winter of hibernation. The tranquility of the land momentarily allowed Gerithor's thoughts to drift away from the war to one of the few memories of peace he had...
It had been spring. The flowers were blooming, much as they were here. He had been just a boy, no more than five or six years old. He had often wandered about when he was a child, but his mother had never let him go far. One day he managed to escape her watchful gaze, and he found himself in a large meadow. Many-colored butterflies fluttered about, occasionally landing on the flowers and revealing the intricately designed patterns on their wings. Gerithor had been fascinated by them, and was intent on catching one. One in particular caught his eye; A deep blue, almost iridescent butterfly with black-rimmed wings. He chased it about the meadow, unaware that he was wandering further and further away from his home. It led him over hill and dale, through forests and streams, until it finally eluded him on the far side of a quickly flowing river. It wasn't until then that he realized he was completely lost. He sat down and began to cry, for as a young boy, being alone in the wilderness was a terrifying prospect.
Fortunately, his mother had realized he was missing soon after he disappeared and set out to find him. Since she was once a ranger herself, she had no trouble following the clumsy trail of a little boy. She soon found him sitting by the river, his eyes red from crying.
"There, there, little Cardinal," She said softly as she lifted him into her arms. She had given him that nickname for the bright red hair he had been born with, and at the age of five, he had not yet grown to dislike it. "You're safe now."
She took him back to the meadow, where she carefully caught a butterfly for him after learning of why he had strayed so far. "Hold him gently, so you don't hurt him," She said. Gerithor loosely held the butterfly in his pudgy little hand and looked upon it with awe that only a child could truly experience. Its large, compound eyes looked back at him, almost as if it knew that he meant it no harm.
He eventually released it and he lay in the meadow beside his mother, looking up at the clouds. They spent the rest of the day there, and from then on they decided that they would go there once a week, just to spend time together.
As Gerithor grew older, however, he wanted to be more independent. Once a week turned into once a month, and once a month turned into a rare occasion.
As he remembered his mother his heart filled with regret. He had not spent nearly enough time with her... And now it was too late. She had perished when he was a young man, and had not lived to see him grow up into who he was now. But this sorrow was his birthright, for the life of a ranger was one of sadness and hardship.
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Gilian watching him concernedly.
"What troubles you?" She asked. Evidently, the expression on his face had revealed his sorrow.
"Just thoughts of the past," he replied.
"Sad thoughts?"
"Aye. And happy memories. They go hand and hand sometimes," Gerithor said, attempting a smile to reassure her.
Gilian nodded. "I understand. Often happy memories go along with those whom we have lost."
Gerithor turned to her, his grey eyes meeting her blue ones. "Did you lose someone?"
At this, Gilian looked down, her brow furrowing in sadness. "I lost everyone..."
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Esteldin - 3001, T.A.
Fire licked the walls of the wooden house, and the cry of a baby rose over the crackling flames. Haldin, the ranger who the house belonged to, desperately banged on the locked door from outside.
"Ada!" He cried, his voice breaking as he choked on the billowing smoke. The sound of clashing blades and the screams of dying men and women could be heard all around him, but he was intent only on getting inside.
"Ada!!" He cried again, his voice louder and more desperate. He looked around franctically for anything that could break the door down, and his eyes landed on a large log. He ran to it and picked it up, running full force against the door.
Bang! To no avail. The door did not even budge. Bang! This time the door moved slightly, and Haldin's heart rose with hope as he hit it a final time. The door crashed to the ground and Haldin rushed inside, dropping the log to the ground with a loud thud.
His mouth fell open in shock when he saw his young wife in the corner of the house, curled up and motionless. He ran to her side and knelt down, hoping beyond hope that she was still alive. He lifted her hand and felt it. No pulse. She was gone.
He lowered his head and let the tears fall freely, clenching his fists at his side. The attack had come out of nowhere. There had been no warning, no sign of any enemy whatsoever. Whoever it was that did this would pay. They had to.
Just then the crying began anew, and his heart leapt when he realized that his daughter was still alive. He ran to her crib and lifted her out of it, cradling her lovingly in his arms.
"Gilian, thank Eru," he gasped, his eyes still running with tears. He looked around, and as the flames began to consume the inside of the house he leapt out the front door, Gilian still in his arms. The entire town was ablaze now, and there was no sign of anyone living at all, friend or foe. He took one last look as the house that he had built with his own hands collapsed, burying the body of his wife beneath the beams. He let out a stifled sob, falling to his knees as he held his little daughter. She was all he had left.
His eyes narrowed with determination suddenly as he realized what he must do. Beyond all else, she must live. He would make sure of it.
He stood slowly and turned to the north. He would walk until he could walk no more, and there he would make a new home for his daughter.
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Fifteen years later, Bay of Forochel
Gilian shielded her pale face from the biting wind, drawing her fur hood closer about herself as she trudged through the deep snow. In her right hand she held a net full of fish that she had caught in the bay, and in her left she held a long, homemade spear. Her icy eyes looked up at the sky, and she frowned.
"Not another blizzard," she said with a groan to nobody in particular. She shouldered the net and pressed on, intent on reaching her home before the blizzard started. They came and went frequently in this land, often without warning. Gilian had learned to adapt to them, and though she was able to shelter herself should a blizzard arrive, she preferred to be inside, by the warmth of a fire, when they passed over.
As the dark storm clouds rolled overhead, she saw her father's cabin in the distance. It was small, and nestled in the crook of a snow-covered mountain. A welcoming light shone from the window, signaling that her father was home. He often went hunting along the slopes of the mountain, bringing back deer and the occasional seal. As a ranger, he was finely attuned to the land around him, and knew exactly where to look for game.
Gilian slowly made her way to the cabin, and the wind began to pick up just as she set her hand upon the door. She opened it carefully, dropping the net of fish on the ground outside before entering.
"How was the fishing today?" Haldin, her father, asked with a warm smile. His long beard was flecked with grey, and his kind eyes peeked out from under unkempt brown hair.
"The fish were plentiful today, father," Gilian said as she pulled off her thick fur coat. "No sign of Lossoth*, either."
Haldin nodded approvingly. "That's always good. I think they migrated further north, following the elk herds. I saw three of them on the mountain earlier, but they weren't warriors."
"I think they know to avoid us after last time," Gilian replied with a smile. The Lossoth had ambushed Haldin a year prior when he was hunting, and Haldin had killed over twenty of them before they retreated. Since then they had given the cabin, and the surrounding land, a wide berth.
"Bring the fish inside," Haldin said. "I'll prepare them for dinner."
Gilian smiled and put a hand to her stomach in anticipation. There was nothing quite like fresh fish, sprinkled lightly with the spices that Haldin grew behind the cabin.
"I'll go fetch the firewood," Haldin added, buttoning up his coat and moving to the door. "Looks like a storm is brewing," he said as he looked out the door.
"Aye, 'tis blowing in fast too," Gilian replied. "Don't take too long."
"Wouldn't dream of it, missie," he said with a wink as he closed the door behind him.
Gilian sat down on the pile of furs that served as her bed. One at a time she kicked her boots off, watching them fly into the corner of the room with a grin of satisfaction. She rubbed her bare feet to get the circulation back, then rested them on the end of the bed. It was times like these that she enjoyed the most; idle moments that gave her time to just think.
However, a loud rumble caused her to sit bolt upright, ending her moment of quiet immediately. She ran outside, not bothering to throw on her coat or boots, and looked up at the mountain. A massive amount of snow was rushing down the slope, carrying with it trees and rocks.
"Father!" She shouted, scanning the treeline for Haldin. After a moment she found him, hurrying toward her as quickly as his legs could carry him through the deep snow. She began to run to him, but Haldin waved his arms wildly to stop her.
"Stay back!" He cried. Gilian could already tell that the avalanche was moving far too fast for him to outrun, but she ignored her father's pleas and ran toward him anyway. Her breathing became ragged as she fought the snow, and she stumbled multiple times in her hurry to reach her father.
The rumble was growing louder now, and the ground shook violently as the massive amount of snow, trees, and boulders tumbled down the mountainside. Gilian could see her father clearly now, and in a moment they would be together. She quickened her pace, her bare feet bleeding and numb from the icy ground.
"Hurry!" She cried, her eyes widening in fear and horror as the avalanche loomed closer. Haldin suddenly tripped, falling on a branch that had been submerged beneath the snow. Gilian let out a hoarse scream as the avalanche reached him, burying him in snow and debris. She immediately realized her own peril, however, and began to sprint in the opposite direction, she could hear the thunder of the falling snow behind her, and she willed herself to move quicker.
All of a sudden, the avalanche was upon her. The snow knocked off her feet, and it filled her nose and mouth. She gasped for breath, thrashing about to grab onto something, anything, that would anchor her in place. Panic began to set in as snow rather than air filled her lungs, causing her to choke. All she could see now was snow, it surrounded her completely and pulled her with it in its descent down the mountain. Her heart beat wildly, and her vision began to darken...
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Present day, Road to Mirkwood
"I thought that I was going to die," Gilian said as she recalled the moment. "But I woke up hours later, and aside from a few broken ribs I was uninjured. My father... He didn't make it." She looked down at her feet and kicked a pebble absentmindedly.
"I am sorry, Gilian. I truly am," Gerithor said, his heart aching for the young ranger.
"From there it was all a haze. I traveled south, not knowing what my destination was or even where I was. I did not eat or drink, and I barely slept. I honestly do not know how I survived. A Dunedain hunting party found me on the southern reaches of the Ettenmoors and nursed me back to health, and you know the rest from there." She wiped a tear from her eye, and attempted to pretend that it had never been there. Gerithor decided to intentionally ignore it for her sake.
"Well I'm glad they found you," Gerithor replied when it was clear she had finished. "And I am glad that you joined my Company."
Gilian sniffed lightly and attempted a smile. "So am I."
Gerithor returned the smile and shouldered his pack, focusing on the road ahead. "Here, let me take your pack. The road is long, and we still have a ways to go before nightfall."
She shook her head in response. "I'll be okay, it's light... Thank you though," She added with a smile.
"All the more reason for me to take it. I'll barely feel the extra weight," he said with a grin.
"Well... Alright. If you insist." She pulled her pack off and handed it to Gerithor, her expression grateful. As Gerithor took it he realized that it was quite heavy, and he decided that it had been the right choice to insist. He slung it around his back and leaned forward slightly, adjusting to the new weight.
"Thank you," Gilian said, placing her hand on Gerithor's arm. "I'll go check on the men."
Gerithor nodded and pressed forward as she fell back to the rear of the Company. Now that he had the extra weight, he hoped that nightfall would come soon... For even he grew tired after a while, and the weight was already beginning to affect him. He shrugged it off, his mind wandering to the story Gilian had told. Her life had been hard, that much was clear... He'd gladly do what he could to make it easier, even if only slightly. This thought in itself made the weight seem less, and he marched onward with renewed energy, the sun shining down upon him.
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Lossoth: The Lossoth, or Snowmen as they were more commonly known, were men who inhabited the Bay of Forochel. They were split into many tribes, some more dangerous than others. They were kinsmen to the men of Rhudaur and Dunland, and bore no clear relation to the Edain.
A bit of a longer chapter for you all today! It's a bit of an introduction into Gilian's character, as well as a continuation of the journey! Hope you all liked it!