Henneth Annûn Story Archive

            They rode through the mountains toward the west day after day, camping at night in whatever shelter they could find. Sometimes it was a cave, sometimes it was a glade with a rock cropping and trees. They would sleep in shifts, with at least two on guard. He usually pulled guard with Thurin. Unfortunately, they couldn't talk let alone hold each other.

            Laeriel was so close that Strider could almost taste her. She was so close and yet so far away. The men they traveled with did not know her secret and thanks to his vow of protection, he could not tell them. He also could not touch her, love her or hold her. His heart ached with want of her.

            He looked over his shoulder at Thurin and wondered if Laeriel under the disguise thought of him. Did she desire to be close to him? Did she burn with the memories of the two of them together? Pushing aside these treacherous thoughts, Strider turned his thoughts to the possibility of meeting his remaining family.

            Would he actually get to meet them? What would they think of the man that their daughter had whisked away as a child?

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            Thurin glanced at Strider. He wondered what he was thinking. Over the last few days, Strider had gotten harder to read. Either he was getting better at disguising his feelings and thoughts, or he had banished Laeriel from his thoughts altogether.

            Laeriel. Yes, that's who she was under the dirt and grime on her face and clothes. The woman he had awakened and the one she had made him swear to protect. The one that had no real claim on the future Chieftain of the Dúnedain let alone the future King of Gondor. What had she been thinking when she had given her heart to Strider?

            That was the problem. She hadn't been thinking. She had been feeling. She had forgotten her oath of vengeance and fell into the trap of the flesh. And where did that leave her now? In love with a man she could never have.

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            They reached the shores of Lake Nenuial just before dusk of the fourth day. They began setting up camp as they had done for the last three nights when Loston heard footfalls coming round the bend. Silently, he alerted his brother Arodion, who in turn warned the other three.

            The five rangers drew their weapons, unsure as to what was approaching, whether it was friend or foe. The brothers set themselves on either side of the path, hidden behind boulders that flanked the trail. Thurin, Strider and Iauron stood their ground, weapons at the ready.

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            Aron and Halbarad along with several men made their way down through the mountain passes, searching out the foul beasts of the Enemy. They had already decimated a small band of Orcs and had routed a few hill-trolls. Now they were heading down to Lake Nenuial and the only safe camping site within miles.

            Aron stepped off the trail between the two boulders and found a sharpened blade at his throat. His hand immediately went to his sword, but the voice in his ear warned him of the foolishness.

            "I wouldn't do that if I were you…"

            "Arodion, is that you?" Aron asked, recognizing the raspy voice.

            "Aron? Sorry about that," Arodion said, sheathing his sword. "All clear, it is Aron," he called to the others.

            "I am not alone," Aron said, waving the rest of his men into the small clearing.

            Halbarad, Uladan and Tarthelion joined the rest of the rangers. Aron found Loston at his left and spotted the shadows of three others in the tree line just beyond the trail.

            "Who else is with you Arodion? When you left it was just your brother and your son. Now your numbers have increased," Halbarad said, clasping Aron's arm in welcome.

            "We have found your lost rangers, Aron," Loston said, waving Thurin and Strider into the clearing.

            "Thank the Valar…where the devil have you been? Where is Balharn?" he asked, striding toward the two young rangers.

            Thurin glanced at Strider, pain etched on his face. "He fell. We were attacked by a pack of wargs just beyond Chetwood."

            "How many warg?" Halbarad asked, intervening.

            "It was a considerable sized pack, though they are no more. We met up with the Prince of Mirkwood and his party and dispatched the whole pack," Strider said, meeting the young leader's eyes.

            "It seems we have much to discuss," Halbarad said, glancing at the young ranger.

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            The rangers settled in for the night, their camp well fortified with the additional men that Halbarad had come with. Strider sat staring at the moon, wondering when he would see his brothers again. Elrohir had said to watch for them at the next rising, but that had already passed. And with the main camp having been moved, he wasn't sure the twins would find him any time soon.

            "May I join you, Strider?"

            Strider glanced up and found Halbarad standing behind him. He nodded silently, knowing that he had some explaining to do. Halbarad knew him as Estel, knew he was the foster son of Elrond.

            "So, you have a new name? It suits you," Halbarad said, sitting down beside him in the tall grass. "How did you come by it?"

            "Thurin thought it a good fit. My brothers were afraid to allow me to use the name I was given at my birth or at Imladris. They say there are many dangers…"

            "Aye, they were right. I remember when you were born. I was but a lad of ten. There was danger then. The enemy was gathering in strength and our fathers fought it bravely. I was a dozen years old when they brought your father into the village, slain by an Orc arrow."

            "I understand the twins brought him into the village."

            "They did, along with my father and some of the other elder men. The twins of Elrond spirited you and your mother away the very next morning."

            "I am worried about my brothers. I should have met up with them again by now," Strider said, looking into the night sky.

            "Never fear. They sent word that they have been delayed. I am sure you will see them soon. In the meantime, I think we need to return to Anthatal, to meet up with the Council Elders. You, my friend, need an introduction."

            "Anthatal…Watchful City….a fitting name for a village of Dúnedain," Strider said, rising up from the grass. He reached a hand to Halbarad and together they returned to the fire.

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            The nine rangers returned to the village of Anthatal two days later. Nearly all the patrols had returned and there were few casualties to report. Halbarad called a meeting of the Council Elders for the same evening then called for Dírhael. It was time for Strider to be reunited with his family.

            "Strider, come in. I want you to meet my wife Cristiel," Halbarad said, entering the home his wife of two years had made for them in the new village.

            "Hal!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the floor. "You're back!"

            "I told you I wouldn't be long. Cristiel, this is Strider, my kinsman. Strider, my lovely bride, Cristiel."

            Strider bowed his head slightly at the woman and smiled. She was a tiny woman with soft yellow hair and brilliant green eyes that lit up when they alighted on Halbarad. After saying a quiet hello to him, she turned and headed into the kitchen, where a pot of food cooked over an open fire.

            "I hope you're hungry. I plucked vegetables from the garden and Melbenion was able to bring a deer down earlier this morning. We have fresh venison stew. I also made fresh bread and Saerien found berries along the wooded path for a pie."

            "I don't know what we would do without your brother and sister helping you out around here whilst I am gone. It does my heart glad to know you are not alone here."

            A knock at the closed door interrupted her reply and Halbarad called for the newcomer to enter. The wooden door opened, silent on its hinges and Strider turned to see a woman with his mother's eyes and blonde hair walk into the main room. Behind her was a man, tall and built well, his dark hair tinged with grey. Both of them looked about the room until their eyes settled on him.

            "Sen tîr?" the woman asked quietly, looking round to the man that stood at her shoulder. "Is this true? Aragorn?"

            "Gîl síla na lû govaded, naneth velannen i-naneth nín*," he replied.

            "Ivorwen…Dírhael….I am sure you have many questions and much to catch up on with Strider. Please, join us for our evening meal," Halbarad offered, waving his hand over the rough-hewn table.

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            Halbarad smiled as he watched Ivorwen and Dírhael soak up all the information that Strider gave them about his childhood and his family at Imladris, including Lord Elrond and his mother. It was good to see the three of them getting to know each other. Life amongst the Dúnedain was hard; families were torn apart day after day. To see the new Chieftain, for that was what he was, speaking with what remained of his family, gladdened his heart.

            "I hate to break up this reunion, but we have some important things to discuss with the Council Elders," Halbarad said, clasping his hand on Strider's shoulder.

            "Halbarad is right, my grandson. We have taken up much of your time already. I am sure the Elders have some questions," Dírhael said.

            "I want you to come and stay with us, Strider. We have an extra room and I want to hear more of your adventures with the twins of Elrond," Ivorwen said, rising from her chair.

            "I would like that, grandmother," Strider said, embracing her in a warm hug. "Halbarad…we should get this over."

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            Halbarad led Strider to the meting hall where they found the Council Elders gathered around a large table. A roaring fire in the grate warmed the room, and talk abounded, talk that immediately ceased as Strider entered the room. He turned to Halbarad, who nodded to those gathered.

            "Well, I knew it wasn't going to be easy," Strider said in a low voice.

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*A star shines on the time of our meeting, beloved mother of my mother

 

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