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Chapter Text

To some Bree-land might’ve been something close to a paradise. It was a peaceful settled land surrounded by lush farmlands, a forest and many bodies of water. Its summers were warm and winters mild and short. All in all, it was quite safe from any outside dangers even with all the wilderness surrounding it – a feat that couldn’t be taken for granted in most of Middle-Earth.

Emryn had lived in Archet – a smaller village North of Bree at the edge of Chetwood – all her life. Knowing nothing of her father she carried no family name. Her mother, Celia, had never been keen on telling her much if anything of him either. All Emryn knew was that he was an elf, and that he and her mother might've been betrothed at some point. Having an unknown father hadn’t made things easy for Emryn, for households such as theirs were looked down upon, even among the generally tolerant Bree-men. Celia didn't even share details of her old life in Dale, or how and why she ended up in Bree. On her deathbed she had been too weak to speak much, and quite soon after falling ill, she had passed – leaving her daughter with no answers and just a hint of resentment.

An odd quirk Emryn's heritage had caused was her having uneven ears. On her left side she looked human with a rounded ear leaf, but the right side one had the pointed shape of an elf ear. As a child this anomaly had caused her peers to tease her, and she became very careful with how she wore her hair. Apart from her mother not one soul in Bree had seen her elf ear in at least two decades. Emryn had long locks of straw-coloured hair and the fair facial features of an elf but when it came to height she never grew as tall as the elves she had occasionally seen in Bree. This was fine for her, as the last thing she needed was to have more features about her that set her apart from others. Life was easier when she could blend into a crowd. On the other hand, she would've liked to have fully elf-like features, for she often dreamed of leaving and settling somewhere where elves lived. As years passed she felt less and less connected to mankind, as she was never treated as one of them.

What she could only conclude to be a gift provided by her elven ancestry, Emryn had discovered an unnaturally powerful ability to heal wounds. It had started when she was still a teen, tending a small cut in her own hand and treating it with comfrey root. She had brushed her hand over the wound, only thinking of willing it to close, when she saw its edges change, turning into a scar that looked to be days old. She tried again, with more intent this time and the cut disappeared, turning into a neat barely visible scar. She began experimenting more, even cutting her skin on purpose to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. Each experiment left her with fatigue, as if she had strained all her muscles and some deeper part of her to the point of exhaustion. Soon she showed Celia her skill, who wasn’t thrilled by this discovery. She told Emryn to never reveal this ability to anyone, much to her confusion. Surely such a thing would only gain wonder and appreciation – not to mention gold which they were always short of.

Emryn heeded her mother’s wish until years later when a neighbour of theirs suffered a severe axe wound while cutting firewood. She was lucky to be close by, healing the bleeding gash in a short moment. The man had been astounded, not believing his eyes. He of course told the entire village of this miracle, and Emryn did not expect the turmoil this would cause. Instead of receiving deep appreciation and requests for more miraculous healing, a rumour started to spread that Emryn and Celia were witches. It was needless to say that Celia, who had seen this coming, was not happy with her. It was the beginning of their real troubles, though they both had always been treated as outcasts.

Despite inhabiting both Men and Hobbits harmoniously and warmly welcoming both Elves and Dwarves, Bree-men had a built-in distrust to anything too peculiar. And it seemed Celia and Emryn became the very definition of that to them. Magic wasn’t unheard of or even frowned upon necessarily – unless it was performed out of the blue or by someone deemed less than trustworthy. The worst of it died down after Celia made Emryn convince people of their neighbour being drunk out of their mind that day and not knowing what he had seen. Still, this didn’t convince everyone, and the rumour of Emryn or both of them being dark sorcery users remained. Making a living became increasingly hard for them. Celia, who had been working as a healer every now and then, struggled to get anyone to treat them. Emryn, who at times played her lute in the Prancing Pony inn, mostly began receiving coin only from travellers who weren’t aware of her reputation.

The Rangers that scouted the northern lands had always been friendly with Celia and Emryn, and Celia always welcomed them to their home. The rest of the Bree folk didn’t trust the Rangers very far, and so it became a habit for them and Celia to help one another. This of course only fed into the villagers’ distaste of both. As she became to know them well, Celia was well aware that the Rangers were much to be thanked for the safety of the area. She would let them use her well looked after garden to pick rare plants for healing draughts or poisons, and sometimes provided them food if she and Emryn had enough to share. Some of the Rangers became something akin to family friends to them. When Emryn was old enough, they taught her to shoot a bow and to hunt with both bow and traps, as well as teaching her survival skills. As a result, she and Celia never saw severe hunger again, even during winter months. When Emryn expressed the desire to learn sword fighting, the Rangers were happy to instruct and spar with her whenever they stopped by.

· • ⦁ • ·

Leaving Bree-land had always been in the back of Emryn’s mind, but only after Celia’s passing, in the year she turned 28, did it become a prevalent thought. That spring she had spent many nights alone at a hilltop, looking up at the stars. There was nothing left for her in Bree, but she knew little of the world outside. She thought of all the dangers, knowing that thinking of overcoming them was easier than actually having to face them. The other option of course was to stay in relative safety and be an outcast, possibly for the rest of her days.

The thought of building a new life elsewhere was tempting, but gold would be an ever prevailing issue for her there as well. Playing lute earned her enough to keep herself fed daily but not much else. Revealing her skill in healing would probably make her an outcast again - or in the worst case get her killed. Maybe she'd have to follow the advice often given to her by well-meaning villagers; to find and marry a man to provide for her. Never had Emryn cared for this advice, for it seemed like giving up her freedom and sense of self. Forcing this thought on her by the same people who thought her as lesser had made her oppose the idea entirely. Yet it was often presented to girls and young women as the only option. She wondered if she'd be accepted to live among elves. She knew little of them, and wondered if healing skills such as hers was common among them. Maybe there she wouldn't have to hide them at least. The night sky provided no solutions, but soon after the repeating dreams began.

The dream was always the same. The forest around her freezing solid, and wolves’ howls in the air so near and loud that it often startled her awake. When the dream continued next there were flames. First engulfing the forest, then the small cabin she called home.

Seek East and seek South. Far you must to find who’s lost.

The dream would end after the booming voice went silent, jolting her awake. The first couple of times she brushed it off as being just a reoccurring nightmare caused by loss and stress. But when the voice began repeating, she knew it couldn’t be just a normal dream. It began haunting her, and only when she made a firm decision to leave after that summer, did the dream stop disturbing her night’s rest.

She didn’t tell anyone but the Rangers of her plans, but as she began selling almost all of what little she owned, it was clear to all that she’d leave. The villagers weren’t eager to buy her cabin. Some would come to look at it but seemed only to seek a chance to see the witches' cabin from up close. Eventually the Rangers made an offer, not giving much gold in return, but rather a strong horse, gear and supplies for the journey. Emryn was happy to accept the trade. Leaving the cabin in their hands felt right, and she doubted she could’ve gotten a better deal for a horse and gear from the villagers with what gold her cabin was worth – even if someone had bought it.

She took the summer to get acquainted with her new steed, Aros. He was a cold-blooded draft horse that was saddle trained well. Not in the prime of his life anymore, but not old either. His coat was dark brown, and he had white markings on his head and feet. Emryn had never even sat upon a horse and it turned out learning to handle and take care of one took its own time as well. The Rangers were happy to help her whenever they stopped by, though they seemed busier and even more secretive than usual. As autumn arrived Emryn felt stronger and more skilled than ever, and finally felt ready to begin her journey. The Rangers had helped her to plan a route earlier in the summer. One which would take her to Rivendell, where she could decide whether to stay or travel over the mountains to the other elven realms, as it was her wish to see them. On the morning of her departure she had eaten a hearty breakfast, and made sure Aros was well rested and nourished before saddling him up and attaching the entirety of her remaining possessions on his back and sides.

“You are really leaving then?” said Sawer, one of the youngest Rangers, checking Aros’s tack and giving him a gentle tap on the side of his neck. The rangers never stayed long and came and went unpredictably. In this instance Sawer had appeared by the cabin that same morning.

“I am,” Emryn said, smiling now. “It’s a good day to leave. Send my goodbyes to the others when you see them?”

“Of course. I can’t believe it... Our little Emryn leaving.”

“It was inevitable. And you’ve taught me well – I’ll survive.”

“That I do not doubt. Just... avoid fights if you can. And keep training with bow and sword when you get the chance.”

“I will, I will...” She gave the hilted shortsword attached to Aros’s saddle a tap. It had been a gift to her a couple of years back, apparently found from some long-abandoned keep.

“And in my head I’ll hear your voice complaining about my elbows when I do,” she added.

“Then my work here is done,” said Sawer laughing. He had been quite grim the last couple of times Emryn had seen him, and it delighted her to hear him laugh.

“Take care of yourself. I wish you all the best with whatever you are dealing with here,” Emryn said, giving him a worried look. His smile died and he looked grave all of a sudden.

“I'll do my best... These are dangerous times for all of us. If these were peaceful times I’d advise you not to leave. But it might be that none of us is safe here nor there,” he said sombrely. Emryn knew better than to pry what he meant exactly and what kinds of dangers Bree was facing. Being in friendly terms with the Rangers didn’t mean they’d openly share much of anything they didn’t freely tell you.

“Then I hope we’ll meet again, when it gets better. Eyes sharp.” She made a gesture, extending two fingers from her brow to the air.

“Eyes sharp,” he replied, copying the gesture.

After leaving him the key to the cabin, Emryn pulled him into an embrace. He returned it and helped her into the saddle. She didn’t know it yet but waving him goodbye was the last glance she’d ever cast on him or Bree-land ever again.

Chapter Text

On the first night Emryn reached the abandoned inn near Bree and spent her night there. Any furniture that had once ornated the place was long gone, but she was happy enough just to have a roof over her head.

The pleasant weather of her day of leaving lasted until the third day dawned. She woke up to drizzle dampening her face and quickly gathered her things under a large tree. It didn’t keep her dry for long, but at least she had enough time to have some breakfast before setting off. That day she rode slowly with her head tucked inside the hood of the travel cloak the Rangers had provided her. Aros didn’t seem to mind a bit of rain, but as the night came Emryn was shivering and desperately tried to dry her drenched clothes by the fire she had built with some difficulty. Luckily the waxed tarp she had with her proved to be as waterproof as the Rangers had promised.

The Great East Road was steadily taking her towards Rivendell. She rarely passed any other travellers and whenever she did, she stayed hidden under her hood, only greeting them silently with a raised hand. She was well aware a woman travelling alone would easily attract the wrong kind of attention. She also kept her sword in a visible spot by her saddle, hoping it would deter anyone who viewed her as an easy target for robbery.

She didn’t know exactly how many leagues she advanced daily, and neither was it known how many there were between Bree and Rivendell. The trail went on and days turned into weeks. She was sore and tired for the first two, but little by little her body got used to being constantly in motion and sleeping on rougher surfaces than the straw bed she was accustomed to. She also got used to the outdoors so that she hardly felt cold in the mornings anymore. To her luck the weather stayed relatively warm and dry considering the season.

On the third week after climbing up a hill she finally saw the forest of Trollshaws looming in the distance on one afternoon. Before it flowed a river and she knew it to be Hoarwell. She encouraged Aros into a trot, eager to make camp by the shade of the trees after spending weeks surrounded by open grassland and bushy hills.

Leaves of trees had lost almost all their green colour while Emryn had traversed the unforested areas. Even though the vegetation in Trollshaw was much the same as in Chetwood, there was a different kind of air about it. It had a cool freshness to it, possibly caused by the nearby mountains – or perhaps she had just been in the arid climate and sun for too long. Still, it felt homely to be surrounded by trees again.

She wasn’t sure what to expect from the elves. She had seen some in Bree but never interacted with them much, apart from on rare occasion thanking one and giving them a kind smile if they departed with a coin or two to reward her lute playing. From what she could gather through these interactions was that they had greater appreciation for arts than the average man or dwarf.

As she made camp that night she combed through her hair and changed the side of her parting before braiding it again, so that her elven ear was the visible one. A change she hadn’t done since she was a child. Knowing that Lord Elrond of Rivendell himself was a half-elf made her carefully optimistic about her meeting the elves of these parts. Perhaps there were more like her. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel the need to travel any further.

· • ⦁ • ·

She followed the road through the forest, undisturbed by anyone. Only many days into crossing the forest as she was filling her drinking flagon from a clear stream, did she hear voices. They were soft and melodic almost. She turned to look towards them. There, across the stream, a male elf stood. He had long dark hair and a friendly smile upon his face.

“Le suilon, heryn nín,” he said, bowing slightly. Emryn was too stunned to speak. She only knew Westron and now wondered how fluent elves were with it generally. The ones in Bree had never spoken much with others than their own.

“Im Elohir estannen. De sí cîr. Ma i eneth lîn?” he continued.

At this point Emryn stood up and attached her flagon back on her hip.

“I’m sorry... I do not speak elvish,” she said, trying to sound apologetic. The elf looked confused, and Emryn saw his eyes flicker to her visible ear. She quickly brushed her hair behind her ear to reveal her other ear. The elf first looked more confused than ever, but something seemed to dawn on him.

“Ah... You are not one of our own. I thought it was odd that an elf we had never even seen approached us from the West,” he said. “My name is Elohir, son of Elrond.”

Emryn felt a spark of enthusiasm ignite in her chest. If Lord Elrond himself was their father, that meant Elohir was part human too.

“Emryn,” she replied, touching her chest with the palm of her hand. “I come from Bree-land, and I’m trying to reach Rivendell.”

At this point another dark-haired male elf appeared beside Elohir. Their likeness was so alike that Emryn assumed they must’ve been brothers.

“I saw no others with you. Are you travelling alone?” the newcomer asked.

“I- I am,” Emryn said.

“Voluntarily?” he continued, sounding a bit surly now.

“Yes... Is there a problem?”

“You must be either very brave or very foolish to make such an attempt,” he said, but it didn’t seem like he thought her the brave kind. Emryn narrowed her eyes, not expecting such rudeness from elves.

“You must excuse my brother, Emryn of Bree. Elladan and I lost our mother many years ago. The world is not a safe place for a woman, and we’d hate for you to get in harm’s way,” Elohir said.

“I’ve come this far, haven’t I? And I’ll have you know that I can handle myself just fine,” she said, feeling annoyed and not caring if she came across as arrogant.

“You’ve been lucky then. These are dangerous times we are living. You shouldn’t travel alone,” Elladan said.

“Well, I didn’t have a chance to gather a group. Nor did I really want to. I left Bree to get away from the people there. My... my father was an elf. I’d like to find him, if he’s to be found.”

“Ah, a fellow half-elf. Although your ears are rather peculiar,” said Elohir.

“I’ve heard there aren’t many like us,” Emryn said, now trying to restrain her enthusiasm.

“Indeed. If you are heading to Rivendell, our father might spare you a moment of his time, but not much more. We are awaiting guests.”

“Are there lodgings available?” Emryn asked hastily. She was eager to sleep under a roof once more. “I don’t have much gold,” she added before either could reply.

“Ah... of course. I’m afraid our guest rooms are reserved for the time being. But we might find you something in the outskirts of our fair settlement,” said Elohir. Emryn wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if his tone was slightly haughtier than before.

“That is fine for me. Is it far away still?” she asked.

“Stay on the road and you should reach it in three days. Two if you put some speed into that horse of yours,” Elohir said, pointing behind her to a tree where she had tethered Aros.

“We must be on our way. Stay out of trouble and near the road. We might escort you if we happen to pass by,” added Elladan, before he disappeared into the trees again. Elohir said his goodbyes and joined his brother.

After her brief encounter with the brothers Emryn felt underwhelmed. She had dreamt of meeting someone like her as long as she could remember. She had expected to feel some kind of a connection – not to be scolded for daring to travel alone.

On the morning of the third day since meeting the elf brothers, Emryn arrived in the vast valley where Rivendell stood. She stopped as soon as she had a clear view of the place, and there she could’ve spent a full day and night just admiring the beauty in front of her. Elven architecture, waterfalls, rushing river and the glow of autumn made it look like a scene from a dream. It was the most marvellous and otherworldly place she had ever set her eyes upon, or doubtfully ever would. The entire way to its gates she took in all she could. An elf rider passed her by as she rode down the sloped road, greeting her in elvish. She bowed her head in response, wishing Elohir and Elladan had accompanied her like they said they might. She could’ve asked them to teach her some phrases in Sindarin.

The gates were open and Emryn rode in. She heard shouts in elven tongue but didn’t pay them much heed as she saw no one. She arrived at what looked like a courtyard, and in front of her stood what must’ve been the main house. She glanced around for a sign of a horse stable but couldn’t spot anything. That’s when an elf approached her from somewhere by the gate. They sounded rather angry.

“Penig channas? Ego!” they exclaimed after some other elven Emryn couldn’t make heads or tails of. She was about to open her mouth when the sound of hooves approached them from the gate. It was Elohir and Elladan.

“Ú-bed edhellen,” Elohir said to the angry elf. The elf casted a sizing look towards Emryn and muttered something in elvish to the brothers before making back to their hidden post at the gate.

“Miss Emryn,” Elohir said a little out of breath after what seemed like riding fast. “We were hoping to reach you today, but you were here quicker than we thought.”

“Oh? Well thank you for trying. What was that about?” Emryn said, nodding towards the elf who now disappeared behind an archway.

“We are expecting representatives of a dwarven king to arrive at any moment. We can take you to lodgings now, if you please. It’s something of a ride away but we should reach it by evening,” Elohir said.

“Ah...” Emryn said, glancing back at Rivendell. She now noticed more elves standing by the main house or arriving at the courtyard, looking at her curiously. She suddenly felt very seen and very underdressed in her plain, worn and dirty travel clothes. “We better go then,” she said and quickly turned Aros towards the gate again.

Elohir hadn’t lied about the distance. By the time the three of them reached the place she was bound to go, the sun was already setting and the forest around them was getting darker and chillier. Elladan had said something in elvish to Aros and the usually rather lazy horse had happily taken up canter on his own, following the two elves' horses on the trail. Emryn didn’t get to ask them many questions as they rode with haste, and when they finally stopped to rest a while, she no longer felt like it. It seemed the two were eager to get her off their hands and head back to Rivendell. Technically she was still in Rivendell, but it was revealed that she’d stay at an outpost in the southern outskirts of the settled land.

As they got to their destination, Elohir showed her all she’d need at the place before the brothers headed off. Apparently, it was a safe and guarded area, and she’d be taken back to Rivendell by an escort at some point. Even though leaving Rivendell right after reaching it had been disheartening, at least the cabin was nice. It was built in elven fashion and laid high in the trees with a ladder leading up to it. Inside there was a decent living space. It was just a little bigger than her old cabin but had many more niceties, such as a bed made of feathers and softest linen she had ever touched. A few horses were grazing in a forest clearing behind a fence and there was a horse stable nearby the tree cabin.

Emryn was told she could reside at the outpost free of charge and would be delivered food if she saw to the horses and kept their tack clean and in good condition. This sounded like a rather good deal, though Emryn was sad to realise she'd be alone again. Travelling alone for weeks on end had left her desperate for a friend to talk to. Then again, the elves had proved less warm and harder to make friends with than she had hoped.

She slept well in her feathered bed. So well in fact that on her first night she didn’t wake up until midday. She was also pleasantly surprised by the quality and amount of food left to her. There was fresh bread, many kinds of cheese, fruits, nuts and even some cured ham to last for days. That day she ate well, did some chores and saw two elven riders swap fresh horses under them before setting off northwards. They didn’t exchange words with Emryn beyond greetings. As the horses seemed to much care for themselves and their tack already was spotless, Emryn was done with her chores in a couple of hours. She practiced some archery and revised swordplay, but the latter felt pointless without a spar partner. She spent the rest of the evening sitting beside a fire and playing her lute to an audience of mildly interested horses.

· • ⦁ • ·

A couple of days passed but there was no sign of an escort who’d take her back to Rivendell. On one particularly beautiful day she got tired of feeling bored and decided to wander the area a bit. She took Aros, some food and her lute and bow, and set off towards east past the clearing the elves’ horses stayed in. In the distance she saw mountains, but before them were more forested lands, and she knew Loudwater river to run through them. She crossed a meadow and rode into a forest again, where she advanced until she could hear rushing of the river in the distance. She saw a wellspring where the water glistened invitingly in the sunlight, deciding to stop by it. She tied Aros to a tree so that he could drink the water and had access to fresh grass. She chose a dry spot in the grass a few feet away and sat down.

After eating some of the food she had brought she begun plucking her lute, singing songs she had longed to hear ever since leaving Bree. In the past weeks she hadn’t played much, too afraid to make much noise in the evenings or even riding. But now with no audience and no lurking dangers she dared to relax a bit.

She was mid-song when from the corner of her eye she noticed movement. She turned her head and fell silent, her fingers stopping on the strings. Having expected to see an elf, she was almost startled when quite unexpectedly a tall man stood there – about thirty feet from her.

A wide smile was adorning his rather pleasant face. His hair was shoulder length and light brown, and he had a short beard. He didn’t look as young as she was but wasn’t old either. He was dressed for riding or travel, and though his dark fur-collared cape was muddy at the hem, and he looked travel-worn altogether, he was dressed richly. On his back he carried a round shield, and on his hip there was a curious looking white ox horn. Had he not been smiling with such brightness, he might’ve looked intimidating with his stature and air of a warrior.

“Pardon. I didn't mean to frighten you,” he said, raising a palm in a gesture of peace.  

Emryn blinked and got over her small scare. She tried to remember if she had ever heard his dialect before, but no memory came to her. 

“You didn’t,” Emryn said and got on her feet, dusting pieces of leaves and dry hay off her garb. “Good day to you.” 

“And to you too. I heard you from a trail nearby. Are you a bard?” 

“Sometimes,” Emryn said, smiling now. “It’s been some time since I last braved a tavern.” 

“I do not wish to disturb you. I was following a small trail nearby when I heard you. It’s been weeks since I last heard a friendly voice,” the man said as he walked a few steps closer. 

“I know the feeling,” Emryn said. “And I was in need of a break anyway.” 

“I am trying to reach Rivendell. Could you tell me if I have long way to go still?” 

“You’re not that far. I’d say it’s about two days journey on foot that way,” Emryn said and pointed north.  

The man sighed wearily and looked towards where she was pointing, as if hoping to see the settlement already. 

“It's gratifying to hear that. A good rest would be welcome.” 

“Have you travelled from afar then?” Emryn asked. 

“Yes. From Gondor. I set on this journey in July and lost my horse weeks ago when crossing Greyflood. There’s nothing but unsettled land between Rohan and this place.” 

Emryn blinked as she tried to fathom the distance this man had travelled. Even if he had set off from the edges of Gondor, it was still half a world away. Her weeks of travel suddenly felt like a short time on the road. 

“You must have a good reason to be here then. Oh, my name is Emryn,” she said, realising she should introduce herself. 

“Well met. I am Boromir, son of Denethor II,” the man introduced himself, bowing just slightly.  

Denethor... It was a name Emryn had heard before. Many times, in fact. It was a rather prestigious name... 

“Denethor... The Steward of Gondor? You’re the... Captain of the White Tower?” she asked in a mix of amazement and horror, remembering passages about the rule of Gondor in one of her mother’s books. It seemed she had encountered something very close to royalty, as the Steward was the nearest thing to a king the region had. Boromir chuckled in response.  

“I am indeed. Pleased to meet you, Lady Emryn,” he said. 

“Oh, it’s just Emryn,” she said, feeling awkward. She was suddenly very self-conscious. 

“Do you live nearby?” Boromir asked. 

“You could say so. I reside at a camp.” 

Emryn looked at Aros, who was now sniffing the newcomer. Boromir offered him a hand for inspection and petted the bridge of his nose. It dawned on her that it would be a kind thing to give him to this man who had travelled a long way on foot. She felt obliged to do it, actually. He was a nobleman after all – the very definition of it. Yet without a steed she’d be more vulnerable. The forest seemed safe, but she had learned not to trust that feeling. 

“I’d loan him to you, but I do need to get back to the camp first and I’d prefer not to go alone on foot. Just tell someone to bring him back after he’s rested.” 

“It would be most kind of you, and I will compensate you for it,” Boromir said, bowing his head to her. “And I wouldn’t have suggested leaving you stranded in the middle of nowhere.” 

He smiled at her again so genuinely and kindly that it was impossible for her not to smile back. For someone with a noble stature he was surprisingly warm. Emryn attached her lute to the strap she carried it on and swung it around her back. Boromir was inspecting Aros and the horse’s tack. He asked her for permission before attaching his shield and a pair of saddlebags he had been carrying into the saddle. 

“There’s a road near the camp that will take you straight to Rivendell,” Emryn said. “I don’t know which trail you were taking, but I think the road is the fastest way.” 

“Truly? I’ve wandered along the river to make a shortcut since crossing it. I knew I’d end up in Rivendell eventually." 

“Shall we then?” Emryn asked as she had gathered last of her things. 

She watched as Boromir tightened the saddle belt and adjusted stirrups to his measures before untying the reins and bringing them over the horse’s neck. He guided Aros back a little before mounting the horse with all the skill of someone who had been riding their entire life. He steered Aros beside her, and she was about to begin walking, when he suddenly offered his hand to her, looking at her expectantly. She looked at it, dumbfounded. Even though he wasn’t what she had expected a nobleman to be like, she felt that keeping a respectful distance was the correct thing to do. 

“Come then, we’ll get there faster if we ride double,” he said, keeping his arm extended. When Emryn looked doubtful, he continued. “He’s strong, he’ll bear us both well. And he seems very docile.” 

“He is,” Emryn agreed, finally taking the hand offered to her.  

Effortlessly Boromir lifted her off the ground and brought her behind him, so that she was sitting sideways on Aros’s hindquarters. Though he was a rather wide horse, she felt uneasy there, feeling as though she might fall off at any point. Just as she was wondering where she might latch on to, Boromir spoke.  

“You can hold onto me. Is that fine to you?” 

“M-hm,” Emryn agreed, though she wouldn’t’ve dared to suggest that herself.  

Carefully she reached her hands around his sides and held on as much as she dared, which wasn’t much. Yet when Aros began walking and she felt her balance betray her, she quickly tightened her grip. She was thankful Boromir was wearing many layers of clothing and gear. 

As they trotted through the forest and meadows and she held on to the Gondorian, she caught herself thinking how nice he smelled... She quickly shook off this thought and forced herself to focus on not falling off instead. 

Chapter Text

Luckily Aros’s gait was soft enough so that Emryn could keep her seating rather stable. As she got used to the motion, she even dared to ease her grip a bit.

“How are you faring back there?” Boromir asked. Emryn had directed him the right way towards the camp and for a while there had been a silence between them.

“Fine... I’m just not used to riding sideways. I think I prefer the other way.”

“Do you want to switch?”

“No. I think I can manage it for a short ride.”

For a good while Aros took them through the forest in a steady pace, as per usual never tripping or getting jumpy. The silence between Emryn and Boromir was prolonging, and she felt awkward holding on to him. Eventually she had to say something, just for him to feel less of a stranger.

“So, what brought you here all the way from Gondor? It must be important.”

“It was actually a dream that led me here, if you can believe it,” he said.

“Really?” Emryn said, puzzled. “A dream prompted me to leave my home in Bree-land and head east.”

“That’s an odd coincidence,” Boromir said and paused. “I thought you were an elf of Rivendell?” he continued in a surprised tone.

“I should be flattered. But no, I’m afraid not,” Emryn said with a sigh. “I’m a half-elf from Archet. And it seems I’m not welcome in Rivendell – at least for the time being.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They escorted me as far as they could as soon as I arrived. At least they left me somewhere safe – I think.”

“That’s interesting... I thought the elves there were welcoming towards travellers.”

“I was told they were expecting some important guests...” Emryn said dryly. “I suppose you’re one of them?”

“I doubt they were preparing for my arrival. Rivendell hasn’t been contacted by anyone in Gondor, nor have we had any means to do that for centuries.”

“Ah... Well, then I’m sure you’ll be in good company there. I am personally considering moving on.”

Soon after they came to the edge of the clearing where the horses were grazing. The horses lifted their heads from the grass to look at them as they rode around their fencing.

“We are here,” Emryn said and jumped off Aros as soon as they reached the centre of the camp and Boromir had steered him into a halt. Boromir looked around in mild wonder and said nothing.

“I suppose you’re off to Rivendell then?” she continued, wondering if this was the first taste to elven architecture he had. He turned to look at her, still atop Aros.

“You said it's two days journey on foot there?” he asked.

“It’s just a rough guess. The elves said something to Aros here and made him go faster than I thought possible. We reached this place in one day, but I don’t think you should attempt the same. He’s not built for speed.”

He looked around again, seemingly thinking about something. Then he dismounted Aros and scratched the horse’s neck in thanks.

“I wouldn’t mind stopping for a while. Do you have any food you could part with?”

“I have plenty. Well, the elves do, and they told me to help myself. Come, I’ll show you.”

She took him to the food storage, which was inside a mound behind a hidden door. Boromir was extremely pleased with the selection, apparently having mostly eaten whatever he could catch or forage the past two months. To Emryn it was normal, but she imagined that a man of his status wasn’t used to having to hunt other than for sport. She looked at him in amusement as he picked up a loaf of elven bread and pressed his nose to it, closing his eyes and smiling.

· • ⦁ • ·

They started a fire and sat by it, food splayed around the basket they had carried it in. Boromir first bit down to a piece of bread and seemed speechless for a while. He closed his eyes again and sighed, shaking his head.

“You have no idea how good this tastes after months of only game and berries,” he said. Emryn smiled sadly.

“I wish I didn’t. Regrettably I spent many breadless days as a child. And later even.”

Boromir looked at her, stopping for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--” he began.

“It’s alright. I rarely go that hungry again,” Emryn said, tapping the bow that was now leaning against a tree stump beside her. “And you couldn’t’ve known. I imagine our lives have been the polar opposites of one another.”

“I suppose so... I’m curious to hear about yours. What brought you here from... Archet, was it?”

“Correct. I had to leave... After my mother died, I had nothing left there. And the locals shunned us for most of my life. I suppose I— uh... we were too strange for them.”

Emryn stopped to think how much she should reveal. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of being a witch again, especially by him. Moreover, she didn’t know how people in the south treated such individuals. Boromir looked like he was about to ask what made her to be a pariah, so she continued.

“I never knew my father. And he was never married to my mother. I suppose that was the start of it. Easy reason to scorn a woman and her child,” Emryn started.

She’d rather even reveal this detail about her than tell of her odd power, no matter how humiliating it was to her. Boromir blinked and looked down for a moment.

“The Bree-landers don’t care for much for the outside world, but my mother had brought some books when she settled there, and she taught me. I also learned to read and write from her. Not many of my peers had that privilege, and it all made me stand out. And since then, it was... just too many unfortunate events. That in short is how we became outcasts. We barely owned any land – just a small cottage and a garden. And making gold can be hard when half of the town won’t even talk to you.”

“It must’ve been hard on you both. I’m sorry to hear it. And for your loss.”

“Well, I’m alive am I not? But thank you. In a sense, it made me stronger and more capable. There are days when I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“But sometimes... you would?” asked Boromir, now continuing his feast after stopping to listen to her.

“Of course... I’ve longed to find others like me. But I don’t think the half-elves here consider me elvish enough. And they’d be right. I don’t know where I should go or what to do, except the dream I had. Maybe I’ll just keep wandering.”

“You should go to Gondor,” Boromir said simply before taking another bite of a chunk of cheese. Emryn let out a small laugh and looked at him to find if he was serious. He gave her that warm smile again.

“I mean it. We could use some more music in Minas Tirith,” he continued.

Emryn recalled a drawing of the White City in one of the books she had read many times. With its impossibly high walls and buildings it looked like it hadn't been built by neither men or elves, but something greater. It was as if it had been carved to the mountain side it rose from. Never had she thought she'd ever actually witness those walls or the tower rising above all but the White Mountains with her own eyes. She couldn't remember even meeting anyone who had been there. Not even wandering traders visiting Bree had taken the Green Way to the south, which connected Eriador and Gondor. The reason was obvious as along that very long and overgrown road no settlements remained. In short, Gondor was difficult to access and half a world away.

Yet now it felt less so, thanks to one traveller. And it was in the south, towards which her dream had guided her next.

“Is that a formal invite? From the heir of the Steward himself?” she asked lightly.

“It most definitely is,” he answered, his tone echoing hers.

“I... I’ll keep that in mind. If I can reach that far,” she said. “You’ll come and listen to me play then?”

“Every day if I can help it,” he said, sounding very serious about it.

Emryn felt her cheeks flush and a giggle escaped her lips, which she quickly stifeled. He seemed happy with the reaction he had caused and continued eating again.

“Then it’s settled. There’s the little issue of distance, but if you made it then I’m sure I’ll do just fine,” she teased.

Boromir proved to have a good sense of humour and wasn’t offended by her little jab.

“Play something for me?” he said after a short comfortable silence of him eating and Emryn staring into the flames, pondering her journey and wherever she’d end up next.

“What would you like to hear?” she asked.

“Continue where you left off when I disrupted you. Could you sing as well?”

“Ah... I rarely sing to anyone. Back there I didn’t know I had an audience.”

“Why? You have a lovely voice.”

Again Emryn felt her cheeks flush, and she didn’t know what to say. She tried to tone down her smile as she wordlessly took out her lute, placing it over her knee.

Returning to the song she had been in the middle of earlier, she plucked the lute for a little while before daring to use her voice. And as she did, even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could see him stop and stare at her. She focused on her playing, resisting the urge to look at him, for she was sure she’d turn permanently red if she did.

After Boromir had eaten and Emryn finished playing, he asked more questions about her life. She asked about his in turn and they shared stories and experiences that were nigh unimaginable to one another. She even dared to reveal her uneven ears to him, and he found them to be very curious. Before either of them could realise, the sun was setting and the forest around them got a dimming golden glow about it. Birds that preferred the evening began singing and the air was cooling down fast.

“I must’ve been in dire need of this,” Boromir said, stretching his arms. “I feel more tired than ever on this journey but also rested somehow.”

Emryn stopped to think what he was implying. It didn’t seem like he was in a hurry to go. And now that she thought of it, she didn’t want him to go either.

“If you need to rest for the night, there’s plenty of room in the camp. I won’t mind. I’ve missed having someone to talk to,” she said.

“If you really won’t, I’ll gladly stay. You already saved me a lot of trouble and time if I can take the horse. And I’m rather enjoying myself, too.”

“No wonder. Good food and music... You must feel quite at home, bar the surroundings.”

“Ah, well... there used to be more music in my city. More people.”  

He sighed heavily and leaned back where he sat, a troubled look casting a shadow on his features. He took a moment before continuing.  

“The forces of Mordor have grown in numbers... I don’t blame the people for leaving, but if the city is abandoned... If we fall... then Rohan is next, and the rest of Middle-Earth will follow. We must remain strong. We cannot fail...” 

Emryn looked at him. He was staring into the flames now, and trouble was shadowing his features.

“You know, I never paid much thought to how life is there – near Mordor. I had too many troubles of my own. I only knew Minas Tirith to be a glorious city. I didn’t quite realise the peril you live in,” Emryn said, empathising with his sadness.

“Most don’t, in my reckoning,” said Boromir. “This June there was an assault on Osgiliath, and we lost the eastern bank. Me and my brother survived among few others... I left him in command, but we need aid soon. I fear something worse is brewing. It’s why I’m here.”

Emryn felt her heart sink a bit, not only because she felt his pain and worry. For a moment she had seriously considered making her way to his city. But what he was telling her wasn’t exactly selling the place to her. He must’ve realised this too.

“Ah, but don’t think there’s only trouble there. It’s a city of wonder and civilization. You won’t be an outcast there. I will see to it myself if I have to,” he said, giving her a sort of encouraging half smile.

She smiled, though in her mind she thought about her healing abilities again and what reaction revealing them might cause. On the other hand, if it was a city in desperate need of help... a healer would no doubt be a welcome addition. No matter how strange they were.

“Well... Even with orcs at the door I’d rather choose to be there than in Bree again,” Emryn said after some thought. Boromir let out a small laugh.

She felt the need to lighten the mood a bit, not wanting him to dwell in concern more than he had to. Especially now that he was far from the cause of it.

“If you’re staying here for the night, I see no reason why I shouldn’t offer you some wine. What do you say?”

“I take this comes from the elves’ stockpile as well?” he asked with a grin.

“Naturally. I’m afraid my own wine cellar was empty when I left. But I’m sure the elves would want me to keep the emissary of Gondor fed and happy.” 

“In that case... I say I could try some. It’s been a while since I tasted elven made wine.”

“To me it’s a first,” Emryn said brightly. “Come. I’ll show you where you can sleep while we’re at it.”

· • ⦁ • ·

Boromir picked a cot from the opposite end of the round tree cabin, looking very pleased with the place. He of course first offered to sleep outside on the ground when he saw that it was just one shared room, but Emryn insisted him to have an actual bed to rest in.

She then led him to where she had found the wine storage and let him pick something for the two of them. She had to take his word for it, since she was significantly less experienced in tasting wines and knowing what made one good. She wasn’t sure she had ever even had the good kind.

The forest around them darkened, casting a shroud on everything else but the two of them by the fire. As they got hungry again, Emryn cooked them dinner over the fire with potatoes and roasted vegetables and mushrooms. They also helped themselves some dried ham and a selection of different cheeses from the pantry.

“I did not jest earlier,” Boromir said after they had eaten and were about to have their fourth cups of wine. “When I said you should come to Minas Tirith. One day when Osgiliath is returned to its former glory it will be a bastion for arts once again. You should be there when that happens.”

“I should?” Emryn asked, smiling. “Well, I’ll have you know that I’m considering it. It’s a long way though, as I said.”

“Maybe you won’t have to go alone,” Boromir said, turning to look at her. He was half laying on his back, leaning his upper torso on a tree stump and his backpack, as was she on the opposite side of the fire.

“Meaning?” Emryn asked as he didn’t elaborate right away.

“I will go to Rivendell, and when I’ve found what I’m looking for I will return to Gondor as soon as I can. We should go together.”

He sounded so earnest. Emryn stared at him with a small frown. She wasn’t sure if he really meant it. But she wanted him to...

“What will the people say when we arrive? Their prince with a spurned vagabond...”

“Maybe I’ll just say you’re my betrothed. Make them really talk.”

Emryn laughed and so did he.

“I’m sure your father would love that,” Emryn said. Boromir had told her about their dynamic earlier, and Denethor sounded like a very proud man with high expectations for his heir. Boromir clearly respected him but realised his shortcomings. 

“He’d be furious,” he said.

“How come you aren’t married?” Emryn asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ve spent most of my time and thought on warfare and had little interest to court anyone. My father of course tried to make me, arranging me to meet high-born women in almost every celebration I attended. I think he eventually ran out of dames to introduce me.” 

“I suppose it’s not for everyone. You must’ve left quite a few of them heartbroken,” Emryn said.

“Not intentionally. And I only said I didn’t court them. Some were happy to keep me temporary company.” He grinned to himself, as if reminiscing a particularly cherished memory.  

“So, you... bedded them?” she asked unsurely after a short pause.  

She felt her cheeks burn and thanked the firelight for masking their redness. He turned his head to look at her, a sly look on his face. She wasn’t sure she liked that expression much. 

“Well of course I did,” he said. 

Typical, Emryn thought immediately. 

“Didn’t you get in trouble?” 

“No,” he said, leaning his head back again. “Neither did they, if that worries you. Not that I know of, at least.” 

Emryn fell silent. Indeed, it would’ve been her next question, and she wasn’t sure these women hadn’t experienced difficulties after such a deed. She observed him over the fire, not knowing what to think. She hadn’t expected to have this kind of a conversation so soon after meeting someone. He had seemed too honourable to not marry someone he slept with. 

She thought about where her reputation would be should she have ever participated in casual relationships.  At least in Bree-land it was generally heavily frowned upon, but Emryn then realised that perhaps Gondor wasn’t the same. The unwritten rules were of course different to men everywhere, especially those with gold and power. 

“How about you? No one ever caught your eye?” he asked, cutting her trail of thought. Emryn shook her head. 

“Maybe when I was still very young and foolish. If anything, I could’ve married someone for convenience. No one from the village though. Maybe a Ranger.”

She added the last part as an afterthought, thinking of Sawer and another young Ranger. She finished her cup of the fruity and full-bodied red wine she and Boromir had been sharing. The wine jug was laying on its side by the fire, emptied to the last drop.

“I’m glad you didn’t. You deserve better,” Boromir said.

Their eyes met briefly over the fire. The flames danced in his and he was smiling at her. She got the feeling she’d be his next conquest if she wouldn’t be careful.   

“Aren’t you sweet...” Emryn said with a sad smile, shaking her head again. “I think it’s time for bed for me. Before you do something that would make your father really disappointed.”

She got up on her feet as she said it. Boromir’s gaze followed her.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said, smiling. “I said you deserve better.”

“And I said, you’re being sweet,” she smiled back. She did a small curtsey after she had grabbed her bow, staggering slightly. “Good night, lord Boromir.”

“Good night, my lady,” he replied with his low and gentle voice, nodding his head. Emryn felt the need to correct him but was too tired to start another conversation.

She fell asleep that night listening to any noises coming from the ladder, but all she heard were sounds of the nocturnal birds and animals in the trees or outside the camp. A sudden nagging voice in her head told her to stay alert, to not trust Boromir, and that it had been a bad idea to invite him to sleep in the same room.

Eventually sleep took over her. In her dream she was walking the streets of Minas Tirith, passing through the seven gates as she advanced. Before her dreams turned into blackness once again she reached the citadel. And from there she looked down, seeing what seemed to be the entire world beneath her.

Chapter Text

Emryn woke up early the next morning, still feeling a bit tired and her head spinning just slightly. Her tiredness wore off as she remembered last evening. She quickly rose her head and glanced around the room, now bathed in morning sun’s golden light. The bed Boromir had picked was empty and looked untouched. Had he not been in it at all?

She sat up and waited the spinning to stop before changing to her day clothes and gathering her things for a new day. As she usually did after a night of drinking, she felt ashamed over what she knew was nothing, and was already just slightly uneasy about meeting Boromir outside. Unless he had already left, of course. She wasn’t sure which would be better.

As she descended the ladder, she saw him exactly where she had left him. It looked like he had slept by the fire after all. He had started it again and seemed to be making breakfast, with something frying on a pan, and a kettle boiling over the fire.

“Good morning,” Boromir said with a smile as she approached.

He was dressed in a white undershirt, which almost made him look like a common man. The ring mail armour he had still worn in the evening was folded on one of the tree stumps, along with the red golden-adorned tunic.

“Morning... You slept here?” she said, pointing at the still unmade sleep roll.

“I did... I had the feeling you needed the privacy after all.”

She remembered the uneasiness from yesternight as she had laid in bed. How she had secretly hoped he wouldn’t come up. She said nothing and instead peered over to the pan. A couple of eggs and some vegetables were frying in it.

“Are you hungry? I made us some breakfast,” he said.

“A nobleman making me breakfast?” Emryn said as she sat down. “These are turning into the oddest couple of days of my life.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, still smiling, as he handed her a plate.

Emryn ate everything off her plate and even tried some of the hot dark brown drink he had brewed in the kettle. Coffee, he called it, apparently made of some part of a plant that grew far south of Gondor. It was too bitter for Emryn, and she gave up drinking the entire cup after three attempts. Boromir found enjoyment in her grimace on each one.

They didn’t linger long after. Emryn went to the stable to brus and ready Aros. She petted his head and whispered praises into his ear before taking him outside. Boromir had dressed in the meanwhile and again attached his burdens to the saddle.

“Thank you again for this. I will send him back as soon as he’s rested,” Boromir said as he secured the last buckle.

“Tell them to take great care of him,” Emryn said, scratching Aros’s neck.

“Of course.”

He turned to her. A silence lingered between them. Emryn looked up to meet his grey eyes. For a moment he seemed speechless.

“I... I wanted to apologise if I was out of line the night before,” he said with a soft voice.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I liked our talk,” Emryn said.

She meant it. All he had done was to perhaps say a bit too much about his romantic past, of which she wasn’t sure she should judge him anyway. If anything, she was feeling rather jealous.

“So did I,” Boromir said, smiling brightly. “Are you sure you don’t want to accompany me to Rivendell? I’m sure they’ll find you lodgings there if I request it.”

Emryn shook her head, though her smile widened.

“They’ll have to come over here like they promised and beg me if they want me to go back. I rather like it here,” she said defiantly.

“I admire your resolve,” Boromir said, bowing his head. “In any case, I hope to see you soon.”

“Maybe you will,” she said.

Right then he took her hand into his, making her eyes widen and her breath catch. He brought it to his lips and pressed a light kiss on her knuckles. She felt her cheeks burn.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, lady Emryn.”

“Still not a lady,” she reminded him, trying to sound normal.

He let go of her hand and got in the saddle. Emryn handed him the reins she had been holding.

“Until we meet again then,” he said.

“Goodbye, lord Boromir.”

He prodded Aros to a walk. Emryn watched him disappear behind a bend. She felt very alone all of a sudden. Without even noticing, she had covered the hand Boromir had held. Her fingers grazed the spot where his lips had touched, but she quickly separated her hands as she became aware of herself.

· • ⦁ • ·

Two days passed and Emryn waited, feeling very isolated. The horses elves were using seemed almost feral to her, not letting her near them for long. At times she tried to brush them, but none of them would stay put and they refused to be collared. Even when she sat by them and spoke to them to ease her loneliness, they hardly paid her any mind and weren’t interested enough to even sniff at her. She even tried singing and playing her lute to them, but her audience remained unmoved.

On the morning of the third day, she heard the thunder of approaching hooves from the road. And riding in she saw Elohir and Elladan. Aros, however, was nowhere to be seen. She rose up from a log bench she had been plucking her lute on to meet the brothers.

“Lady Emryn,” Elohir said, nodding his head.

Emryn stifled a grin. She had a feeling Boromir had something to do with this manner of greeting and she made a mental note to remind him not to tell anyone else to refer to her as ‘lady’ either.

“Fine morning to you,” she said, curtsying just slightly. “I see my horse is not with you.”

“It is in Rivendell, enjoying the very best our stables have to offer. As per requested by your lord.”

Emryn could not help letting out a laugh.

“My lord?” she asked, feeling very amused.

“Yes, lord Boromir... We were informed you are under his and Gondor’s protection. And to be treated accordingly. We have come to escort you back to Rivendell.”

Emryn felt exalted, in more ways than just one. With another laugh she took her lute and fetched the rest of her fortune from the tree cabin. In the meantime, Elladan and Elohir had swapped horses into fresh ones and saddled one for her as well. The grey mare stayed perfectly put as she got on it and gathered the reins. As expected, it listened to the elves’ commands and all she had to do was to stay in the saddle.

· • ⦁ • ·

They rode fast once again. Faster than they had when she had been on Aros. This time they arrived in their destination well before the sun had disappeared behind the trees. Elladan took Emryn’s steed and directed her to follow a female elf who had been waiting for them at the courtyard. She introduced herself as Raenwyn and escorted Emryn first to the main house and then briefly around some of the other buildings, showing her the facilities of Rivendell.

The entire time Emryn looked at every detail she could catch with wide eyes, trying to take in as much as she could. She had been afraid her previous brief glimpse at the place might’ve been her first and last one. Now that she was back, she did not want to miss a thing. Their tour ended at a garden that was unlike Emryn had ever seen. It had clearly been carefully tended for many human lifetimes, and it was full of plants she had never even seen before. After she had a brief look, Raenwyn urged her to follow her again and took her to one the buildings further from the main house. They climbed up many stone steps before they reached it.

There she showed Emryn to the most beautiful room she had ever found herself in. Its ceiling was high and everywhere elven craftmanship was ever present. Yet her eyes immediately fixated to a balcony at the opposite end, from which a view opened to the valley. There was a large canopy bed, at least three times the size her bed back home had been. Steam was rising from a bathtub that was placed in one of the corners of the room.

“Is this... all for me?” Emryn asked in utter disbelief.

“Of course it is, my lady,” Raenwyn said, smiling kindly.

“I’m not really a lady. You can just call me Emryn.”

“But... lord Boromir--”

“He knows it perfectly well too. I suppose it’s his idea of a funny jest.”

“Ah... I see. Well, in any case; we have prepared you a bath. And if I can take your measures, we can get you appropriate clothes to wear. You will want to look your best at the feast tonight.”

“Feast?” Emryn asked, feeling something inside her lurch uncomfortably.

“Yes, at the feast hall after sundown. Don’t worry, we’ll do something about your hair as well.”

“W-who should I expect to see there?”

“Lord Elrond, along with many of the guests we are currently hosting. Lord Boromir as well for certain,” Raenwyn said, giving her another smile.

The uncomfortable feeling didn’t leave Emryn that evening and only worsened as sun began to set. She bathed and dressed in a simple robe until Raenwyn and another elleth came by to help her change into an elegant elven dress. They combed her hair and conditioned it with some wonderfully scented liquid, making it soft as silk, before styling it in the manner the elves usually wore their hair.

At the end of it, Emryn stood in front of the mirror, seeing someone she couldn’t recognise. The two elven maids had left her alone a while ago and the valley was darkening. Her room was lit by many candles and lanterns, and she felt very homely there. So much so that leaving it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She kept staring at her reflection, feeling a bit disoriented by everything. She saw her uneven ears, now both visible as her hair was made in an elven half-updo. She looked at the slim-fitted long dress that was in no means too revealing, but somehow still felt inappropriate on her. She wasn’t sure if it was the silver embroidery or if it simply was more low-cut than the shirts and dresses she usually wore. It was beautiful. But it was not for her.

Minutes passed and she sat on her bed. The night darkened. She didn’t know what to expect if she didn’t go, but quite soon there was a soft knock at her door, and she heard Raenwyn’s voice call out to her.

“My l--” she started and stopped to correct herself. “Miss, are you quite alright? The feast has started.”

“I... I’m not hungry!” Emryn cried from where she sat.

“But... You haven’t eaten since your journey. You must be,” Raenwyn said.

“I’m feeling rather tired. I don’t think I will go!”

Raenwyn tried to persuade her for a while, but Emryn kept her head. Sitting at a high table with unknown people, all of whom were nobles, was a situation she couldn’t imagine herself in. It was all too much for her. She would rather take the all too familiar sting of hunger in her stomach. In a twisted way it felt a little soothing even.

After Raenwyn finally left her be, she quickly got out of the gown she had been clad in. Her own clothes had been taken away to be washed, and so she rummaged through a closet and found a simple sage green undershirt. It was too big for her, but as she slipped into it, she felt more herself. She opened the braids half of her hair had been twisted to and returned the side parting, this time leaving her rounded ear visible.

As she lied in bed and was somewhere between sleep and awakened state, she thought she heard a faint knock from the door, along with someone calling her name. It wasn’t Raenwyn’s but at that point Emryn was too close to a state of dream to not fall in, or to be sure whether or not she dreamt it.

· • ⦁ • ·

She woke up the next morning to Raenwyn delivering her a full tray of breakfast. She seemed concerned but Emryn convinced her she was fine and had simply been exhausted by the long ride. Emryn requested her clothes to be brough back to her. Raenwyn was hesitant at first, trying to offer her more elven dresses and robes, but Emryn kept her head. Eventually she got her wish and changed into her familiar travelling gear.

She had not walked far from the door of her room when a familiar voice came from a short distance away, calling her name. There she saw Boromir, approaching her carefully.

“There you are,” he said, smiling. “I expected to see you last night at the feast.”

“Ah, yes... I’m sorry, I was terribly tired,” Emryn said.

They began walking slowly together towards the courtyard.

“I trust you had a good return?” he asked.

“It was... And apparently, I’m lady Emryn now.”

Boromir laughed.

“I wanted them to treat you with the utmost respect,” he said.

“Well, it seems you succeeded.”

“So, what are your plans for today, lady Emryn?”

She rolled her eyes at him, and he looked thoroughly amused. They had reached the first set of stone steps and began descending them.

“I was going to find you and ask you to stop telling people to call me ‘lady’.”

“Not a chance. Any other requests now that I’m here?”

“You could show me to Aros. I think I’ll take him for a short ride.”

They argued back and forth the entire way to the stables about whether or not Emryn should leave the care of Aros to the elves or to do it herself. Eventually she agreed to letting someone else handle him, but only after going to check on him and showing him some affection.

Boromir seemed keen on spending the day with her and she was happy to let him accompany her. It was because of him that she had the freedom to explore Rivendell, after all. They strolled the paths, going around the entire place. In the garden Emryn shared her knowledge of the many plants with healing properties it housed. Boromir was able to identify a few of the ones she had never seen.

They ate together and Emryn met some of the other guests, mostly dwarves from the Lonely Mountain. To her surprise she noticed a group of young hobbits there as well, keeping to themselves but seeming very merry. She had never heard of any venturing outside of Shire or Bree-land. None lived in Archet, but they were a common sight in Bree and some of the other villages. She saw Boromir cast long glances towards their direction and assumed he wasn’t familiar with hobbits. To him they probably were something akin to creatures from fairy tales, as few knew of their existence outside of the places they dwelled.

Emryn found herself wishing she had chosen to wear an elven robe after all. Her attire received some questioning looks, and she realised she would’ve had easy time blending in if she had worn something different. Around Bree it wasn’t uncommon for women to wear similar clothes to men, as many of them took part in physical work like cultivation and forestry, but all of the elven maidens she saw in Rivendell were dressed in elegant floor length dresses. She made the decision to step out of her comfort zone when she’d get the chance. Perhaps she’d even get used to it.

Boromir seemed preoccupied after their dinner and so they walked in silence for a while as they were making their way to the library, which was a place Emryn had anticipated to visit. Eventually his sudden silence got to her, however.

“So, when are we leaving for Gondor?” she asked him.

He hadn’t answered in length to any of her remarks about their surroundings or musing about whether or not the library had many books written in Westron, and so she wanted to bring his thoughts back to the present.

“Actually...” he started and stopped in his tracks, making her turn to him. “I cannot leave as early as I was hoping. There’s... something I didn’t anticipate.”

Emryn blinked, thinking what might’ve been so important that he won’t return to defend his city as soon as he can. He didn’t seem keen on elaborating.

“Oh... Then... When do you plan to go?” she asked.

“I do not know yet. I suppose it will be some weeks.”

“Well, a few weeks here isn’t that bad. Although, I’m sure you’re very anxious to leave as soon as you can. What is it that is keeping you here?”

But whatever it was he would not tell her. In fact, he said he wasn’t allowed to. The rest of the way to the library Emryn was silent as well, thinking what might’ve been weighing on his heart in such a beautiful place.

The library didn’t turn out to be a disappointment and Emryn found many books that she was able to read, even a dictionary for Sindarin. There was no one present and so she did not take the freedom to borrow any of the books to take to her room, even though Boromir said it surely would be fine. They spent some time going through about third of the shelves, at times picking up books to examine more closely. To Emryn it was an incredible place, only having held about ten books her entire life. Boromir found her fascination to be adorable, boasting about the vast libraries of Minas Tirith. Emryn made him promise to give her a tour in each of them.

Little by little Boromir’s mood lifted again and he became his usual sociable self. They stopped by Aros for another time so Emryn could check on him and feed him some apples she had picked from the garden. The matter of dining at evening came up and this time Emryn decided to go. This would in a more relaxed setting in any case, as the one yesternight had been a more formal occasion as she understood it.

Emryn decided she wanted to change her attire before going. She put on a different, less ornate elven dress than the one she had been wearing the day before. She layered it the same way she had seen the elves doing and was rather happy with what she saw in the mirror. Her hair she left loose and still covering her elven ear. There was no point in trying to look as one of the elves, as she felt more human in any case.

As she got out, Boromir smiled when he saw her.

“It suits you,” he said, eyeing the dress she was wearing. “I was wondering why you chose to wear your travel clothes earlier.”

“You’re wearing the same clothes you travelled in as well,” she pointed out.

“Yes... But they’re the best the entire realm of Gondor has to offer. Of course I will wear them. Whether there or abroad.”

“What if I told you mine were the best Bree had to offer?”

“I’d call you a liar. That or things in Bree must be even worse than you described.”

They were some of the first by the long dining table, that already had some bread and butter on display. A servant came over to pour them glasses of water. Emryn thanked them, which gained her some looks as it clearly wasn’t something you were expected to do. But as she wasn’t very used to someone serving her, and not thanking would’ve felt rude to her.

The variety of dishes did not disappoint her as the table was soon served with platters full of food. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen such an amount of food in one place, although Boromir said it was nothing compared to the night before. Not every seat around the table became occupied, which was fine for Emryn. Most of the time she was seated alone with Boromir, until someone eventually took the seat next to him and struck up a conversation that involved Gondor and warfare – topics she had little knowledge of. Her concentration on the conversation wavered when two elves began playing a harp and a flute near the table, and she instead focused on the melody, marvelling its beauty and their flawless performance.

She was looking at the musicians, having almost forgotten her half empty plate, when a new voice spoke to her.

“Ah, the evasive half-elf. Good to meet you at last.”

She looked up and saw a dark-haired elf so alike in appearance to Elohir and Elladan, that she knew this must’ve been Elrond Half-elven himself. He took the empty seat next to her.

“A-are you lord Elrond?” she asked just to be safe.

“I am indeed. And you must be Emryn.”

“That’s right,” Emryn said, pleased that she finally didn’t have to correct someone. “Thank you for your hospitality. Your house is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I apologise for sending you to one of our scout outposts. We have more visitors present than usual, some of whom required protection from outside forces, and you were unknown to us. And I wasn’t aware of your importance to lord Boromir.”

Boromir turned to look at them as he heard his name mentioned.

“It’s quite alright,” Emryn said. “It was already more than I could’ve asked for. And it was there where I met lord Boromir for the very first time. It was lucky for us both that I was positioned there.”

“I second that,” Boromir chimed in. “I might’ve drifted for days if I hadn’t stumbled upon her and received her horse to ride here. Just in time, too.”

Emryn glanced at him. Just in time for what? Neither of them would say.

“You’ve earned my trust then, Emryn of Archet,” said Elrond. “I understood from what my sons told me that you have not encountered any half-elves before.”

“That’s right. There aren’t many of us, are there?”

“No, indeed. Apart from my family and you, I don’t suppose any still reside in Middle Earth. I could be wrong of course, seeing as though we weren’t aware of you.”

For a while they conversed about why this was, and half-elves that had been known to history. She was surprised to hear how few there were, considering Elrond’s many millennia's worth of knowledge and memory. They sat and ate for a long time, people coming and going around them. Eventually there was only one last thing pressing Emryn’s mind.

“Lord Elrond,” she said in a low voice, so that Boromir, who was once again conversing with other people at the table, wouldn’t hear. “I was wondering if I could ask you more about being a half-elf, or elves in general. Healing magic and such... Is that common among elves?”

“Quite so, I would say. Though it requires training to obtain and master. Why do you ask?”

“I... I think I have obtained it. Could I meet with you tomorrow? I have some more questions about it,” Emryn said, still in a hushed voice.

Elrond agreed to meet with her the next afternoon, noticing her reluctance to speak more of the topic at that moment. Just in time too, as Boromir’s conversation ended and he turned to offer her more dessert.

To be so out of place Emryn felt surprisingly relaxed at the end of the dinner. The night had fallen over the valley once again and Boromir walked with her the fire-lit pathways towards the guest rooms. She had thought he might stay and converse at the table, where a third round of wine had begun to be served, but he insisted on heading to bed as well.

“What matters do you have to speak of with Elrond?” Boromir asked out of the blue as they were at a remote stair landing, having stopped to admire the many lights around the dark valley.

“What?” Emryn asked, turning to him, unsure of what to tell him.

“I heard you arrange a meeting.”

“Uh... nothing important. Just more questions about being part elf, now that I have the chance.”

“Alright... It seemed secret, that’s all,” he said.

Emryn felt slightly panicked.

“What is it that hinders you from returning to Gondor?” she asked in turn.

“I cannot tell you.”

“See? I suppose we both have secrets.”

“So, it is secret...”

They both eyed at each other, although not with suspicion. It was more of a look of mutual understanding. Both let the matter drop, and they stayed for a while, admiring the view.

· • ⦁ • ·

“I am happy you are here,” he said as they were nearing her door. “It felt wrong to leave you at the camp. I was concerned something might happen.”

“Why? I was safe there.”

“You don’t know that. It’s at the edge of these lands and you were alone.”

“Well... now I’m here and safely tucked in silken bedsheets. I suppose you made that happen too.”

He gave her a smile that told her it was exactly so. Emryn suddenly felt the pang of guilt again. It felt as though every nice thing she had received in Rivendell so far was arranged by him. She got the gnawing feeling that she hadn’t earned any of it and that she now owed him.

“I want to thank you. For all you’ve done for me. I am thankful. I... I really am.”

“You need not,” he hurried to say, touching her arm. “You deserve it.”

Emryn didn’t know what to say right away. Her gaze drifted to his hand that was lightly touching her forearm.

“I can’t repay any of this back,” she said.

“I would never accept gold from you.”

She was now looking at him with uncertainty and her mind was racing. Was he implying what her distrustful mind was telling her? That he possibly expected something less tangible in return? It wouldn’t be the first time a man made such an offer to her for goods or what had initially seemed like a kind deed. He smiled at her, and she wasn’t sure he could read her expression correctly. In her experience men seldomly could, or simply didn’t care to. But she’d never dare to voice these thoughts to him, afraid it would turn them into reality.

She stood frozen, but to her relief Boromir only wished her good night. That night Emryn fell asleep after wallowing her time in some troubled thoughts and memories that seeped into her dreams, waking her up once or twice and leaving her anxious and tired as the next day dawned.

Chapter Text

Lack of sleep weighed heavy on Emryn as she made her way to Elrond’s study the next day. Boromir had met her at breakfast and seemed keen on keeping her company once again, but she felt the need to take some distance, staying vague about her plans for that day. She had excused herself after eating a rather small meal, yearning for a moment of solitude. Luckily, he seemed to take the hint and didn’t hurry after her.

On her way she thought about her previously unexplained power, how she’d soon get answers, and the fact that it had been a long while since she last had dared to use it – three years at the least. Sometimes when she hadn’t used it in a long while she had wondered if she still remembered how to. Yet every time it came to her as naturally as breathing.

She was feeling less nervous than she probably should’ve been. On the other hand, she was about to meet up with a lord. It was something an average commoner never got to experience in their lifetime. Then again meeting Boromir had already taught her to have fewer preconceptions about people holding such status.

Elrond, too, had seemed kind, despite his lordship. And he must’ve been if he often welcomed travellers to stay at his home. She smiled at the thought how sitting at dinner table with lords, dwarven royalty and elven princes had at least briefly become an everyday occurrence to her. Just days prior it would’ve been a ridiculous thought. Not that she didn’t constantly feel like a fish out of water with this change.

Elrond’s study was accessible through the main hall, and she slowly made her way there, stopping at times to think what she should say and ask. For what she knew this might be the only opportunity she got to do so. As she knocked on the door, she thought she had everything gathered in her mind. But as the door opened and she got the sight of the room, new wonder took over her and she couldn’t help but to stare in awe at everything.

She had thought her room had the most beautiful view over the valley, but it was now obvious that it was only second at best. The many archways and windows opened a wide view into many directions. In the middle of the opening balcony there was a round dais where even more of the valley could be viewed from one spot. There were multiple stacked bookshelves and masterfully crafted furniture around the room. And in the furthest end was a table almost entirely covered by maps, books and stacks of parchment. Emryn wondered how many thousands of years' worth of knowledge was stored in all of it.

“You wanted to ask something. What is it that you want to know?” Elrond said, making her snap back from her endless wonderment.

“I- I did... I do. Mostly about being a half-elf and everything to do with that. I’m sorry if my questions will seem boring to you.”

“Worry not and ask your questions – I'm sure you have plenty.”

“Thank you, lord Elrond. I wanted to know... Anything really. What it means to be half-elven. All my life I’ve lived as a human and I’ve wished I could be like the rest around me, hiding any hint of my elven self. And now I feel it’s no longer there wholly. So... what am I to expect?”

“Admittedly you seem more human than I would think a half-elf to be. Are you certain your father was fully an elf? Or it might be simply because of the environment you spend your youth in. How old were you again?”

“I am twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine.”

“Truly? Then you’d be but a child in elven years.”

“Well, I can assure you I am not.”

“Perhaps your human traits have aged you faster then. In either way, you will have a choice of kindred if your father truly was an elf. The gift of immortality will not pass on for more than two generations, however.”

Emryn questioned Elrond as to why this was but the explanation he gave made no sense to her. She let the matter drop as it somehow interested her less than the most pressing matter in her mind.

“I have an... ability to heal. I was wondering if it’s because of my elven ancestry.”

“It is indeed quite common for elves to have a gift in healing. I myself possess it. But I’m curious to know how you learned it, seeing as though you didn’t have an elf to guide you or teach you the words.”

“Words?” Emryn asked, genuinely confused.

“When elves heal injuries, we repeat a chant to draw power from. You have no need of this?”

Emryn shook her head.

“How exactly do you heal?”

“I don’t even know how. I just... do. I place my hand over the wound and sort of will it to heal. And it works. The wound shuts, sometimes leaving a scar, sometimes not. I feel terrible afterwards though.”

“That is unlike any healing I’ve ever heard of or witnessed. Even I cannot heal wounds to that point. It’s very impressive, if it is as you say.”

“But is it elven magic? Can humans even do anything like that? I don’t understand it.”

“I suppose it could be elven, though as I said it’s unheard to me. I can look through the records to see if I can find any mention similar to powers like yours. Until then, I’m afraid I can give you no certain answers.”

Emryn fell silent for a while, taking in his words. Was she a witch after all? This thought kept haunting her as she soon after left Elrond’s study, having promised him to demonstrate her abilities if an opportunity presented itself. Emryn made the offer to give herself a cut to heal, but Elrond refused.

She was feeling uneasy again. She had expected to find answers and knowledge that consoled her worries. Instead, her doubts were renewed.

For a few hours she drew into solitude, staying at a secluded corner of the courtyard, surrounded by flowing water, trees and pillars. There she laid on a stone bench, staring at the stream shaded by lush vegetation and listening to the song of nature around her until dreamless sleep took over her.

She woke up disoriented at a call of some bird in a tree nearby. Rising up with a groan after falling asleep on the hard bench, it took a second for her to remember where she was. Slowly the sleepiness wore off her and she felt slightly better. She decided to not let the uncertainness of the origin of her powers bother her further. Nothing had changed, after all. She only had to keep looking.

She was crossing the courtyard between the gates and the main house when she saw Boromir. He was carrying his sword and his shield, and he was clad in the same gear when she had first seen him. Immediately a worried thought crept up on her. Was he leaving? She was quite certain he wasn’t, but she was surprised by how much the thought bothered her.

As he noticed her approaching, he greeted her with the same kindly smile she had grown used to seeing on his features.

“All done with your meeting?” he asked.

“I am. Where are you heading?”

“To the training grounds. It’s been too many days since I’ve held a sword. A soldier of Gondor cannot afford that, especially these days,” he explained.

Something in Emryn lit up.

“Would you spar with me?” she asked without thinking.

“You?” Boromir said, half surprised, half amused. “You’re trained on the sword?” he added a bit more seriously.

“Did you assume I am not, even though I carry one?” she asked indignantly.

“I must admit... Maybe a bit. I assumed you carried it so visibly to scare off any potential attackers.”

Emryn hated how obvious it was to him, but she’d be damned before admitting it.

“I almost always carry it with me. And I train when I get the chance,” she said.

It was half true, at least.

“Then I’d like to put your skills to the test, if you really wish to spar with me,” Boromir said, giving her a smile full of challenge. That alone made Emryn realise she might be out of her depth.

That feeling proved to be true just seconds into their session. Boromir immediately remarked the way she held her arm and proceeded to fix her posture. Emryn found him placing his hands on her shoulder and elbow to adjust them was somewhat detrimental to her ability to concentrate, her brain immediately focusing on how nice and warm they felt through the fabric.

It soon became a training session, with him giving her advice and tutoring her while correcting her mistakes. It was good advice, and a little more in depth than any training she had received from the Rangers. To her embarrassment, some elves decided to stand in the sidelines of the training grounds and watch their process.

By the end she was feeling rather confident, however. Boromir was precise and didn’t give out praise often, but when he did, he really seemed to mean it and explained what it was that she was doing right.

“You did well,” he said after blocking her last swings.

He had barely broken a sweat, but Emryn was sore and tired. They had begun with wooden training swords, but Boromir had instructed her to pick up her own steel one after it became apparent that she’d have hard time hitting him, and that she wasn’t that used to her own sword’s weight and feeling. And now, after about an hour and a half of training, she could hardly lift her arm.

“It’s been a while since I had a sparring partner. I’m sorry if you didn’t get much out of this,” Emryn said, panting slightly.

“Nonsense. It did some good for me too. If we keep this up, we’ll make you a swordswoman yet. Then we can go faster.”

“You want to do this again?” Emryn said, surprised. He must’ve been used to sparring partners little closer to his own size and skill.

“Why not? I’d be happy to make your chances of survival a little better if you ever have to clash swords.”

“How about we continue tomorrow then?” Emryn asked, feeling rather eager to keep at it, even with her sore sword arm.

Boromir seemed pleasantly surprised with her suggestion.

“Tomorrow it is,” he said, giving her a smile which reached his eyes, making them shine.

The entire way to the dinner table Boromir spoke to her about battle tactics and it was obvious the topic was a great interest of his. She realised how much his life must’ve revolved around war and being a soldier, even if he was the closest thing to royalty in his country. Or perhaps it was exactly the reason why. She had no doubt his people had great trust in his leadership.

“Do you recognise him?” Boromir asked her in a low voice as they were seated in what had become their usual place at the table.

He vaguely pointed towards a man who was taking a seat at the other end of the long table. The man was tall, slender and dark haired, the ends of his hair almost at the height of his shoulders. His face did seem familiar to her somehow. Emryn peered at his features for a while. She was sure she had seen that same profile lit by the fire of her home cabin, just visible from under a hood while the man was speaking in hushed voices with another Ranger.

“I... I think I have seen him before. Isn’t he a Ranger?” she asked.

“He is. Their leader, in fact. You said you were familiar with them?”

“I am, with many of them. Though evidently, they’re very secretive. I didn’t even know they have a leader.”

“Would you believe then that this man is also the only living descendant of Isildur and thus, the true king of Gondor?” Boromir asked, his eyes staying on her to observe her reaction.

“You-- you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” she asked after almost buying it.

“I am not,” Boromir said calmly. “And it so happened that my dream led me here. To the Sword that was broken... and its wielder.”

He nodded towards the man. Emryn looked at the Ranger again. He didn’t seem kingly to her. What she saw was a Ranger, even if he was now dressed in a simple overshirt and carried no visible weapon.

“Aragorn is his name. Though you might’ve known him as Strider, if he had been known to you,” Boromir said before turning his attention to buttering a piece of bread.

· • ⦁ • ·

Emryn kept glancing at the man throughout the meal, in utter disbelief that she and her mother had once or twice hosted a king under their roof. He mostly spoke with Elrond’s daughter Arwen, who he was seated next to. Eventually he seemed to take notice of her glances and looked back. Emryn averted her gaze quickly but decided she should introduce herself to him. She was a friend to Rangers, after all. 

To her luck the Ranger finished his meal just as she was done. She excused herself from Boromir’s company and headed towards the same archway Aragorn and Arwen were heading for. Only when she was facing him did he realise how tall he was. Then again, many of the Rangers seemed to be. 

“I was told you’re a Ranger. Can I have a word?” Emryn started, then quickly introducing herself. “I am Emryn, from Archet.” 

“Ah, you’re Celia’s daughter. I thought I knew your face,” Aragorn said. He had a soothing and pleasant voice. “Yes, indeed I am a Ranger. And we can speak. Accompany us to the gardens if you wish. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Arwen you’ve met, I assume.” 

Emryn nodded politely at the elleth, feeling a little intimidated by her almost otherworldly beauty. She smiled, nodding back. They began walking down a corridor, lit by the moon and elven lanterns. 

“I was sorry to hear about Celia’s passing. She helped many Rangers over the years with healing and by providing shelter and information,” Aragorn said. 

“Thank you... Well, the help has been repaid back manyfold. Your Rangers helped and gave me a lot. I don’t think I would’ve been able to leave without them. That’s why I wanted to talk. To give my thanks but... I was also wondering if you have any news of them. Sawer, for example.” 

“I’m afraid out of the two of us you saw him last, and I haven’t received any word from them. They remain scattered for now. We have many fronts to defend in the North.” 

“He said there was trouble brewing.” 

“Indeed.” 

Aragorn spoke to her about the Rangers and the latest news he had heard from them. Emryn was somewhat surprised to realise that she had only met a small handful of them, having always thought them to be a rather small group based somewhere in Bree-land. Yet according to Aragorn most were usually scattered near Rivendell – which was also where he had been raised. A few were always patrolling Bree-land, but some recent threat had required more of their attention in that direction. What that threat was Aragorn would not say. 

She parted from Arwen and Aragorn just as they reached the gardens, having asked her questions. As she had half-expected, Boromir was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs leading up from the courtyard.  

“So, you met him,” he said as she approached. 

“I did. He seems surprisingly down-to-earth for such a high king.” 

“He’s not my king, as far as I’m concerned,” Boromir said, an unmistakeable hint of bitterness in his tone, as they began ascending the stairs. 

“But... I thought you said he’s the rightful king.” 

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it. The Stewards have ruled Gondor for generations. We have defended it, and all the lands beyond, against Mordor. The last king disappeared without an heir. And now almost a thousand years later one suddenly appears to claim the throne.” 

“Why did none of the Stewards claim kingship? If it has been so long?” asked Emryn, trying to fathom in her mind what it would be like to know one’s ancestry a thousand years back. 

“I was wondering the same thing as a boy. My father said in places of less royalty it might’ve happened. But in Gondor... not even ten thousand years would be enough.” 

“Ten thousand?” Emryn asked.  

“That’s right.” 

They kept walking up the stairs in thoughtful silence, though partly because they were out of breath. They stopped at the ledge at the top of the stairs to look at the dark valley. A great silvery moon that was casting a dim light over all they saw. 

“So, what would you do if you were king?” Emryn asked after she had caught her breath. She felt the need to amuse him somehow. 

“What?” Boromir asked, sounding bemused.  

“Let’s say you became the king. What is the first thing you’d do?” 

“Well...” Boromir started and leaned on the stone railing, looking down in thought.

Emryn saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She assumed the same position as him, standing right next to him as they looked down to the valley. In moonlight it looked almost eerie with the light grey structures rising from amidst darkness. It seemed that on moonlit nights the elves preferred its natural light and avoided lighting fires where they could. 

“First, I would sit on that throne that has lied empty since the last king occupied it.” 

“Very good, your highness. What comes next?” Emryn said with a smile.  

“I would unite the men, gather allies... All to flock under one banner. We’d be a force Mordor couldn’t best.” 

Emryn looked upon the moonlit valley in silence. She wasn’t sure her thought experiment had made the intended relaxing effect on him.  

“But lately I’ve thought of a new ambition,” he added after a while. 

“Well, what is it?” she asked as he didn’t continue right away. 

“I’d marry whoever I wish. Noble blood or not.” 

In the dim light his expression was difficult to read, but he was smiling and gave her a glance. Emryn was getting used to his teasing and played along. 

“Oh, I fully support that ruling,” she said in a light tone. 

For a moment they eyed at each other, all smiles, both understanding the absurdity of the scenario they had just played with. 

Chapter Text

Emryn and Boromir continued training the next day just like they had planned, as well as the next after that. Emryn felt sore, but after the third day she found she wasn’t completely beat by the end of it. Boromir suggested a training routine which involved two sessions, one in the morning and one later in the evening. He’d slowly made the practice harder as her skills grew. 

After a week or so Boromir took up sparring with Aragorn. She was happy of this, as she had been worried that tutoring her would eventually dull Boromir down. Often, she’d stay to watch the two men fight and be mesmerised by their skill, strength and agility. She did her best to learn something by watching, but they were too advanced for her to comprehend much. It only made her realise how long she still had to go even to have a fraction of the same skill and endurance. Their might she knew she would never match. 

With bow, however, Emryn managed to impress Boromir on a couple of occasions at the archery range. She had nothing to teach him on the topic, but as they trained together it was established that she had more skill with the bow when it came to hitting the target accurately – though he was by no means bad either. Neither of them could equal any of the elves’ skill with bow, however, and they soon made the decision to only train when no one else was present, if only to not feel humiliated. 

After a week into their daily training Emryn began feeling some kind of progress. Boromir was very eager to keep their two sessions per day, only taking it easier on her on days when she was particularly spent and almost moody as a result.  

He seemed to shine almost whenever he began explaining something about weapons or fighting technique. Emryn couldn’t help but to feel like his masterful guidance was wasted on someone like her who was unlikely to ever need any of it.  

“That was good,” Boromir said on one evening as he offered Emryn a flagon of water. She was out of breath and seated on one of the stone benches bordering the training area. Gratefully she took the water. 

“Was it?” she asked, feeling the all too familiar burn in her sword arm as she brought the flagon to her lips.  

“Yes. Did you not think so?” 

She leaned her back against a pillar behind her, letting herself catch her breath.  

“I was beat after a couple of swings. And my timing was off once again,” she complained.  

Boromir let out a small laugh and sat by her. 

“Considering how little training you’ve had you’re doing remarkably well.” 

“I have trained for many years, actually.” 

“Not properly if the Rangers only instructed you a few times a year. You need consistency and repetition. Like what we are doing now.” 

“You’ve been doing this all your life I presume?”  

Boromir nodded. 

“Ever since I was able to hold a sword. Not solely due for the enjoyment of it. It is duty to my people that moves me. A man of Gondor cannot afford to be untrained in battle – especially one in my station.” 

“They must love you,” Emryn said, smiling. She was again reminded of how different their lives must’ve been. Him being revered and her an outcast.  

“I’ve worked hard to earn it,” said Boromir, smiling back. “I hope I can soon count you in their midst.”  

Emryn stifled a wide grin as she felt her cheeks flush for perhaps the hundredth time in his presence. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, although he didn’t comment on it. It seemed he enjoyed saying things that caused this kind of a reaction in her.  

Often they would plan their upcoming journey together and their eventual arrival in Minas Tirith. If Celia had heard what Boromir promised Emryn, she would’ve lectured her daughter not to trust things that sounded too good. Yet Emryn found it hard not to. She’d listen tales of his beloved city, imagining the places he described to her. It all sounded very fantastical to her as in comparison Bree was centuries behind in both architecture and development. The thought that some of the houses had a source of water inside them was something Emryn couldn’t have even dreamt about. It was unbelievable enough to make her doubt him just a bit, though he insisted he was telling the truth.   

He spoke more about the city’s depopulation over the years and how now even some magnificent houses in the upper districts remained empty and abandoned – with the residents unlikely to ever return. According to him, it would be no trouble to gift one of said houses to her for the help she had provided him. There’s no such thing as a free meal, Emryn heard inside her mind, Celia’s words echoing clearly in her ears. Yet... there were worse people to be indebted to. 

At the end of November signs of winter approaching could be seen and felt. The trees in the valley that had turned ever more golden began shedding their leaves. For the journey ahead Emryn received clothes from the elves that were fit for travelling in the winter. She had never worn better gear and made sure to thank Elrond profusely for them, only to realise that they too were arranged for her thanks to Boromir. 

Emryn took Aros for daily rides to make sure he was fit for the road when they’d eventually head out. Occasionally Boromir accompanied her with a horse the elves loaned out for him. Apparently being the heir of Gondor’s ruler permitted him to have almost any horse he desired for his journey back home. He picked a particularly strong looking buckskin stallion that didn’t seem to have any issues with getting along with Aros. 

The rides usually turned into lessons as Boromir would advise her and often also help fix her posture whenever she didn’t have enough concentration to stay in the right form. Some mistakes were harder to fix than others, as she had gotten used to riding in a certain way on her long way to Rivendell. Boromir kept reminding her to keep her stirrups closer to her toes and her heels down. For some reason Emryn had gotten too used to keeping them wrong. Positioning her feet the right way did feel better in some sense but also less secure as she would often lift her legs without realising, causing her foot to slip from the stirrup. 

One day early in December they had ridden half a day’s journey northwest of Rivendell. The day was surprisingly warm and sunny after many days of rain.  

“What do you say if we race up this hill before turning back? We’ve been riding sparingly,” Boromir suggested. They had just reached a grassy hill after having ridden through the forest all day. 

“That’s hardly fair. Aros isn’t exactly a racehorse,” Emryn reminded him.  

“I’ll give you a head start.” 

“Hm, fine. But we’ll do this again with equally proportioned horses when we get the chance. Because I will beat you.” 

“Gladly, as many times as you’d like,” Boromir agreed with a smile, gathering the reins of his steed – Gwael. 

Emryn prepared Aros to take off, gathering his reins and positioning her feet to give him a sign to gallop. She urged him to go, and he jumped into his soft, long gait. Emryn hurried him along, trying to see how much she could get out of him.  

She was at a surprisingly good pace when she heard Gwael’s hooves behind them and urged Aros to go faster. Just as she felt her left foot slip from the stirrup, a pheasant took off with a screech right in front of them. Aros made a swift turn, letting out a terrified neigh. Emryn had no chance staying on the saddle. She lost her balance as the horse made the turn and next thing she knew the ground rushed to meet her.  

She heard a mumbled voice. Felt her head ache. She blinked her eyes. The darkness around her vanished. The voice became clear. 

“Emryn! Emryn, wake up!” Boromir pleaded.  

Emryn groaned, trying to get up as she realised she was laying in the grassy ground. 

“What-- Where’s Aros?” she asked, her head feeling like it was twice its size.  

“He’s near. Are you hurt?” 

“My... my head hurts.” 

He placed both his hands on the sides of her head and observed her eyes, looking very worried. He examined the back of her head to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. 

“Can you move your feet? Hands?” 

Emryn moved each of her limbs, relieved to realise she at least hadn’t been paralysed. Boromir let out a sigh of relief. 

“Let’s set up a camp. You must’ve hit your head quite badly,” he said. 

“No... No we need to get back,” Emryn tried to protest. She sat up from where she was laying and covered one side of her forehead with her palm, as if that would ease the pain. Boromir hurried to support her. 

“You are in no condition to ride even a mile, let alone all the way back.” 

“We have no supplies.” 

“We have enough. Now come, we need to find a place to settle in.” 

Emryn tried to shake him off, assuring him she could walk on her own. But as she took one slightly stumbling step, he had already wrapped an arm around her, followed with him swiping her to his arms. 

“Y-you don’t need to--” Emryn started, but he cut her off. 

“Just allow me to help, please. I’m not sure you should be moving at all.” 

As she was pressed against him, she could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke. It made her heart take an unexpected leap. 

“My feet are fine,” she argued. 

“Good. Now let me carry you.” 

She was secretly rather enjoying being carried. She only hated to be a literal burden, cursing herself for falling off. Yet it seemed that carrying dames must’ve been a reoccurring pastime of his, as he didn’t even break a sweat after carrying her all the way to the cover of the forest. He placed her at the foot of a particularly large beech tree and told her to wait there as he went to gather firewood. She offered to help but he was adamant on her staying put and left her to wait with a flask of water. He brought in many armfuls of wood – enough to last deep into the night – and after making sure she was still in good health, took her bow, telling her he’d be back before dark. 

After making sure he wasn’t anywhere nearby, she placed her hands to the back of her head and focused to heal anything she could. This did little to ease her headache, even making it a bit worse. She abandoned her attempt, though not before she already felt it taking some strength out of her. Emryn sat still for a while but eventually the combination of boredom and being cold was too much to keep her in her place. She began attempting to start the fire. As she didn’t have anything to make a fire with, she began rolling a piece of wood between her palms, trying to make it light up a dry pile of hay and leaves she had gathered. But try as she may, she couldn’t kindle them. Perhaps it was her trembling hands, or the cold and damp air around her. 

“You should be resting,” Boromir’s voice yelled some distance away. Emryn turned to see him walk closer to her, carrying something in his hand.  

“I got cold,” she said through chattering teeth. 

“Ah, I should’ve realised.” 

She then saw he had been carrying two rabbit carcasses and one grouse, placing them by the pile of firewood. Then he immediately went to Gwael and detached something off his saddle. Emryn recognised it to be his fur-lined cloak. He wrapped it around her, and she gratefully buried herself in it, thanking him. He proceeded to grab a tinder box from his saddle bag and easily got a fire going.  

“I don’t venture far without one,” he said, lifting up the box.  

“I didn’t use to. It seems I’ve let myself slip.” 

She felt uncomfortable, having realised how much she had let her guard down as she relied more and more on his presence. Survival had been all she knew and now she found herself at the mercy of someone else. She made a promise to herself to rectify this as soon as possible while she watched him prepare the game to be skewered.  

“We won’t have to starve tonight,” he said, giving her a smile. 

“I remember you telling me I shouldn’t get used to this,” Emryn teased as she observed him, remembering the morning at the outpost camp and finding him cooking. He laughed. 

“I might make exceptions every now and then,” he said. 

He sat next to her after he had placed their meal over the fire. The daylight was waning and the light and warmth of fire felt almost sedating. Emryn kept her hands and feet close to the fire, still feeling cold in them. For a while the two of them stared into the embers in silence. 

“So... Any update on when we might leave Rivendell?” Emryn asked finally. 

“No. Not yet. I’m still waiting for confirmation about something. I will let you know once I have the answer,” he said, grabbing two pieces of wood and adding them to the fire. 

He stayed vague on the topic whenever she brought it up and Emryn didn’t pry him to tell her anything she wasn’t supposed to know, though it did make her feel slightly frustrated. 

“I didn’t expect to spend this long in Rivendell. I was rather hoping we wouldn’t have to be this north in wintertime,” she said. 

“I understand your concern. I was hoping to return home as quickly as possible as well and not linger. It’s not long now, I can promise you that much.” 

Emryn was content with this answer and took a sip of water. Her head was still throbbing, and she rested it against her knees. 

“Feeling any better?” he asked. 

“Not significantly. But I’m quite positive I won’t die, so there’s that.” 

“Good enough for me,” Boromir said with a smile.  

They ate as night fell over the forest. Little by little Emryn began feeling better, though tired after her attempt to heal herself. When she saw Boromir shift closer to the fire and warm his hands, she insisted on sharing the cloak she was wrapped in. They sat shoulder to shoulder now. Emryn welcomed the warmth he radiated, having to hold herself back to not squeeze herself entirely against him. Although she didn’t think he’d mind. 

“I’m happy we’re going together,” Emryn said when their upcoming journey became a conversation topic again. 

“I’m glad you find my survival skills satisfactory,” he said with a smile. 

“Well, I wasn’t surprised since you travelled alone for months through total wilderness. I meant... you... you look after me. You don’t have to, but you do. And to be truthful I feel a bit useless compared to you.” 

He tilted his head, looking at her with searching eyes. 

“In what way?” he asked, sounding a bit amused at the thought. 

“You’ve given me so much. A softer bed than I would have dared to dream of. Dining with royalty, as if I was one of them. And temporarily a life free of manual labour. My life used to be the opposite of all that. I know I will return to it, but... It has been unforgettable. Not to mention you training me. Meanwhile I... well, what have I ever given you... apart from loaning you a horse?” 

She let herself ramble on for longer than she would’ve liked. But there was no going back once she had started.  

“I didn’t do any of that to have you in my debt...” Boromir said softly. “And I will gladly offer you more of the same once we reach the city.” 

Their eyes met and Emryn felt his warmth, more intense than ever. They had sat side by side for a while now but only then she became very aware of their proximity, feeling it’s intensity. He was looking at her intently, a slight smile on his lips. Then his hand was gently under her chin, tilting her head up. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear as well as feel it. 

“You deserve the world, Emryn.” 

He leaned into her, closing the distance between them. She closed her eyes as his lips brushed softly against hers. Like everything in him, they were wonderfully warm. She craved them before they had even left hers. Suddenly breathing was very difficult, and Emryn had to remind herself how to exactly do that without gasping for air. The few kisses she had experienced before were nothing like this. Not in intensity nor in quality. Indeed, he made her feel as if she had never been truly kissed before.  

Boromir’s hand left her chin, and he broke the kiss. For a moment she felt like she was left hovering in the air. She blinked her eyes open and saw him observing her carefully, seemingly unsure of how she would react to his boldness. She answered him with a smile, feeling her cheeks burn. For a moment they only leaned on each other, all smiles and not saying a word. 

“Had you planned that for a long time?” she asked. 

“Ever since I met you,” Boromir answered, smirking.  

“And now you’ve fulfilled it?” 

“Oh, that was merely the beginning.” 

He lifted her chin again and kissed her, still gently and yet she could feel his hunger. Shifting, his hand snaked around her waist, and he guided her to lay on her back. Emryn felt conflicted. She was kissing him back eagerly, but panic began to rise at the back of her mind. She knew it was wrong. 

She turned her head, breaking the kiss and raised her hand against his chest. It came as a natural reaction more than a conscious effort. Boromir leaned away from her, retracting his hand and sitting back up. She followed. 

“We cannot...” she whispered. 

“Why deny yourself?” he asked, his tone urging. “There’s nothing to stop us.”  

“I’m not so sure. The first day we met... You said I deserved better. Have you changed your mind?”  

“Of course not...” he said, though he seemed to experience some guilt. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, leaving it there to cover half his face. “I am sorry if I offended you. I know it’s not a simple matter.” 

“No, it is not,” Emryn agreed. “Not to me, anyway.” 

“I would look after you. No matter what happened.” 

“But we could never marry.” 

Boromir was silent for a while. 

“No,” he said simply. 

“Then you understand. I am not free to do as I wish. I know I told you I am not exactly looking for a marriage. But I can’t afford to make myself unmarriable.” 

“I’d look after you,” he repeated, emphasising his words. “Marriage or not.” 

“That’s a beautiful thought. But nothing I can rely on.” 

“I am true to my word, Emryn. But I will not press you. I do not want you to act in hesitation.” 

“Thank you...” Emryn said.  

They remained seated together in silence, both a bit out of breath. She hated having to reject him. She burned for him just as much as he did for her, and she did not blame him for wanting to become physically intimate. Yet the truth was that there were too many risks for her. 

“You’ve been in my thoughts from the moment we first parted,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence.  

Emryn leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pressed his chin on the top of her head.  

“I’ve thought about you a lot, too,” she said. “More than I should.” 

“Good,” Boromir said, making Emryn let out a laugh. “You are not uncomfortable, are you?” 

“No,” Emryn said, snuggling against him harder. “Quite the opposite, actually.” 

“It’s a cold night. We should sleep close to each other.” 

“I agree. And we are sharing one cover, after all.” 

His free hand searched for hers and found them clasped in her lap. He took them into his wonderfully warm one. 

“Your hands are still ice cold,” he stated. “Come, I’ll warm them.” 

He took one of her hands and guided it towards him, placing it against his side under the leather vest he had opened. The other hand he dragged over to his lap, covering it with his. He had taken off his overshirt before settling by the fire. Only fabric of his undershirt kept her from touching his bare skin. That realisation made Emryn breathe a bit quicker. 

“You look beautiful in firelight,” he said. 

“Only in firelight?” 

“Don’t be silly.” 

It was easy to feel at ease by his side, both safe and warm. She thought it was probably the safest she had ever felt. Sleep took over her before she knew it. She felt Boromir lay her down carefully and tuck something under her head before settling by her side and covering them both with the cloak. She felt him brush a lock of hair off her forehead before sleep completely took over her. 

When Emryn woke up the next morning it took her a moment to orient herself. She felt the hard ground under her hip, making her shift in discomfort, and chilly air caressing her face while she was otherwise wrapped in warmth. She could smell the autumn and something new entirely. A scent that was a mix of leather, sweat and something very pleasant – almost floral but somehow not at all. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, savouring it. She heard birds singing, a soft breeze rustling dry leaves in the trees... and a soft snore. She suddenly felt very awake and opened her eyes. She had been sleeping against Boromir's chest, her arm wrapped around him. His chest rose and fell peacefully in the rhythm of his breathing.  

Emryn knew she probably should wake him up and get ready for the day, but something in her refused to stop staring at the peacefully sleeping man. She studied his face carefully, taking note of every arch and plane. She found herself smiling at the sight. She drank in all she dared but eventually removed her hand and rose up. Boromir woke up right at that moment and they soon were on their way back to Rivendell. 

· • ⦁ • ·

Something had changed between them. They spoke much like before they had that night, but the way they eyed at each other felt different. At times he was looking at her with a smile, yet sometimes Emryn could sense a hint of sadness or longing in his glances. She didn’t even try to hide stealing looks towards him. She found herself hoping she could return to that morning and spend a full day laying by his side and watching him sleep.  

The following day Emryn didn’t see Boromir apart from having breakfast with him. He explained he had some sort of a meeting planned and would not be able to train her that morning. Emryn went to the training grounds in the evening but couldn’t find him there. She decided to settle with some archery practice, not thinking much of it. 

The day after that, however, Boromir was quieter than usual, and something seemed to bother him. He hardly smiled, as he usually did. They still trained that day, as usual. During their evening session, he was more critical of any mistakes she made and pushed her to do things she did not have the skill for. Eventually she had enough. 

“What is it with you today?” she asked with a huff, dropping her training sword to the ground and rubbing her arm. “I am not continuing until you tell me.” 

Boromir did not answer right away. He looked at her with an odd expression on his face. It was a frown, but there was some unmistakeable sadness in his eyes as well. He averted his gaze and walked over to the sword rack, placing his own training sword there, before leaning his back against a pillar next to it.  

For a while he looked like he was figuring out how to tell her something. She picked up her sword and placed it next to the one he had put away, a little worried now. 

“I cannot accompany you to Minas Tirith,” he said finally. 

Emryn felt something shattering inside her. It took a moment for her to take in his words. She let out a sudden breath. Boromir looked at her, now looking rather grave and sad. 

“I am sorry,” he said. 

“How come?” Emryn asked simply. She felt she couldn’t utter out more words. 

“My mission... It urges me to return home. But for reasons I cannot tell you I must go without you. I am part of a group... I-- I am not allowed to tell you more.” 

“And... I can’t come with you? I don’t understand.” 

“No. I tried to plead with-- to let you join. But it’s not in my hands. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“But... We’ve been here for weeks. I waited for you to be ready so we could leave together.” 

“I know. And I’m sorry it came to this. I want you in Gondor and I wanted to take you there. But now it seems we have to find another way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If you’ll wait here, I could gather an entourage and send them for you. I know it will take some time, but I truly... truly want you there.” 

Emryn was silent for a while, considering this change and what exactly could be behind it. She also considered the truthfulness of his words. 

“But... that could take a year, or more even.” 

“I know.” 

“Where would I go? I heard the elves are leaving soon. Some sooner than others but there’s no guarantee any will be here in a year.” 

“I... I did not take that into account. Perhaps you could return to Bree-land if it comes to that.” 

“Truly? Back to Bree? The town I left behind with the intent of never returning there. The town where nobody talks to me just because I can--”  

She trailed off, catching herself almost saying something she had decided to leave a secret.  

“Can what?” Boromir asked. “You seem to leave something out whenever I ask about your life there.” 

“Don’t change the topic,” Emryn snapped. 

“You mentioned it first.”  

He was right, of course, but she was angry and getting more frustrated by the minute as disappointment and the reality of her plans completely changing settled in. 

“How long have you known I can't come with you?” 

“Not long... Only since yesterday. I tried to appeal so you could join, of course, but it’s been apparent since yesterday evening.” 

She was wracking her brain to figure out whether he might’ve been lying. An unpleasant though came to her. 

“Is this... because I refused to sleep with you?” she asked quietly, nearing him so that he could hear. 

“What? No. Of course not.” 

Her question seemed to have roused some panic in him. Coming to the conclusion that he was probably telling the truth Emryn sighed and took a seat on a stone bench next to the rack.  

“Well... Thank you for telling me, I suppose,” she said, staring the ground between her toes. 

He sat next to her wordlessly and with careful movements, as if he was afraid that moving too quickly might cause her to snap at him again. She took notice of the fact that he didn’t touch her. 

“Gondor will be still standing when you get there. And it welcomes you with open arms. I will go and make certain of both.” 

Emryn smiled sadly. She had no doubt he would. Whether he’d still remember her in a year she wasn’t so sure. He’d no doubt have many distractions before they saw each other again.  

But why would she have to wait? If they couldn’t travel together, then perhaps the most obvious route for her was to continue the journey alone, like she had initially done. Sure, the road would be long, but she had done well so far. And now she was stronger and more skilled than ever. 

It was her turn to stop and think how she’d tell him of her new plan. 

“What if I didn’t wait?” she suggested. 

Boromir looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate. 

“I could go alone. Follow the same trail you took.” 

“Emryn... no. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Why? You survived. And I never ran into any trouble on my way here. It's a long way but at least I won’t have to wait who knows how long. I’ll have Aros with me, which means it won’t even take as long as your journey here.” 

“It’s because I know the lands between and their perils. For anyone less experienced it can prove fatal. Especially a woman travelling alone. You cannot be seriously considering it.” 

“Why not? Do I need to remind you that I’ve been a woman all my life. I’ve been surviving mostly alone. You don’t need to tell me about the dangers I might face.” 

“You don’t understand... There are tribes of Wildmen, orcs and rogues that will gladly capture you and sell you to slavery – or worse. You’ll make an easy target for them.” 

“Boromir... I’ve made up my mind. If I can’t come with you, I will go alone.” 

“Don’t be a fool.” 

Emryn glared at him. She rose from the bench and turned to him. 

“At least I don’t make false promises. I’ll go to Minas Tirith... and I’ll get there before you do.” 

His objections fell into deaf ears. He didn’t hurry after her as she left him in the training grounds. As she was almost at the staircase leading towards the courtyard, she thought she could hear metal clanging and something heavy hit the ground.  

To Emryn the most appropriate place to begin planning to leave Rivendell was Aros’s stall. She brushed him for a long while, realising how much glossier his fur had become under the elves’ care, despite him being in the middle of shedding his summer coat. She took a closer look at what the horses were fed and among other things found some kind of grain she had never seen before.  

“We’re going soon,” she whispered to Aros’s ear as she almost hugged his head while petting it from each side.  

The horse leaned its head against her, letting out a content sigh, blissfully unaware of the meaning of her words.