Title: Through the Eyes of the Dunedain

Summary: A character study story set in Bree years before the War of the Ring. The innkeeper's daughter and a Ranger--it was never meant to be a match made for the Valar, but neither were they.

Pairings: Ellen/Gorlim

Rating: PG 13

Category: Drama/Romance

Author's Notes: Thanks to:

LDK- I do appreciate your comments, and I have since updated the first chapter to include a timeline warning. In this story, Barliman has yet to come into ownership of The Prancing Pony.

HobbitGirl11 – Yes! A regular reviewer! Also, thank you for your kind words and your recommendation of my story.

-For those who are interested, I compile emails to send update notices

-Apologies for any errors in the telling of Gorlim's story, but my copy of The Silmarillion is packed, and it is reconstructed from memory. I tried not to be too specific, so that those who have not read the story did not get confused.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, and I hope the great Professor isn't turning over in his grave. There have been greater blasphemies in fanfiction.

~... .....-*-... .....~

Archet is much smaller then Bree, with only a handful of houses and one public house, The Boar's Head. It is here I pass my time, while Ellen heads to a nearby shoemaker.

I inhabit the darkest corner, and I doubt that most of the men passing through the common room notice the Ranger in a hooded cloak. I suppose that is why I did not notice the man across the room trying to catch my attention inconspicuously. He finally grows tired of whistling a bird's song and approaches me.

"Gorlim, why are you here? Have you not heard?"

I reply in the negative, for it has been nearly a week since I have last received a word from my own.

"We have been called to fight. There was no lie of numbers, I fear. They would come upon Bree in three days. An ambush is set to waylay them a day's ride out, but there is little hope. There are only twenty men at best, and a handful of elves- the Lords Elladan and Elrohir and a few of their companions. They come in almost triple our number."

My fears have been realized, and I look at my comrade.

"There is no doubt?"

"None," he says, pity in his voice.

"Very well, I shall ride out come first light tomorrow."

Disapproval shows on his face, but I ignore it.

"I will arrive in due time, without the danger of riding through territory I am unfamiliar with at night."

He acquiesces, and quickly sketches a map to the encampment.

It is now that Ellen appears as the doorway, and my companion melts away from my side as she approaches.

"Is your snooping complete for the day, Ranger?"

If it were not for the smirk upon her face, I would take offence. Instead, I find myself replying in a very similar line.

"It is indeed. What of your errands? Have you left many more letters in the realm of the forgotten in favour of some history?"

"I am sure I have, but they must be left there for now. It is time to return home sir, or you will miss the dinner hour," she pauses, "And there is no need for such a woebegone expression. The food is perfectly edible, and I will ensure you receive a good portion, if that is your will."

"You are too kind, ma'am. My expression is not at the thought of your food, but at the sorrow of parting from your wonderful company. Tonight must be my last at the inn, for I have been called elsewhere."

She closes her eyes for a moment, and I watch her struggle to regain control of her emotions.

"That is a pity, sir. I found myself rather enjoying your company, if I may be so bold to say. Perhaps you will return when your duties are finished. A new tale to entertain the fires with? The circumstances were not right for you to tell of your adventures last night, but perhaps you will return another time?"

There is a pleading in her voice, the fragile hope that her newest tie to the outside will not be severed as most are. I wish to reassure her that I will return in a short time, and that I will entertain her with adventures for many nights to come. It is an odd thought, but it is sincere. This woman, little more then a girl really, fascinates me in a way that no paid company ever has. But I see the bearer of bad news watching me with guarded eyes across the room, and I remain silent. There is no promise I can make.

I push myself away from the table I am seated at, and stride from the room quickly. Our horses stand ready, and I am gone before Ellen mounts. She catches up to me though, and does not say a word about my imminent leave-taking. Instead, she asks questions that none could take offense to.

Her life story is discussed, and I am surprised to learn that she is three and twenty. Her only sibling is a brother named Barliman, who is nearly six years her junior. The inn has been in her family for many years, and it will go to Barliman upon her father's death. Her mother had died in labour, and that child, among others, had been stillborn. It was the fear of such a trait being passed on that had kept several suitors away, and she was yet unmarried.

She asks me about my life, and I have nothing to say. Her attentions then turn to my name.

"Yours is the first name I have been privy to for a Ranger. Gorlim," she rolls the name on her tongue, and finds it pleasing. "Where does it come from? I have not heard anything of such a sort."

"It is old, dating back to the First Age. Gorlim was one of the twelve companions of Barahir, and it was he who eventually betrayed his position to Sauron."

"That is terrible!" she exclaimed, indignity evident on her face. "But who was Barahir?"

It is strange to think that the legends of my people, so vital and well-known to me, are lost to most others. I attempt to explain briefly, and that is enough to satisfy Ellen's curiosity.

"Barahir was a mortal man, leader of the house of Bëor. He fought dark forces with the Noldor- elves-, and he was outlawed. With him traveled twelve companions, including his son Beren, and Gorlim.

"Now, Gorlim had a wife whom he loved above all else, Eilinel. He knew his choice to fight was right, but he missed her greatly. It was his desire to look upon the house they had shared, and the fact became known to the orcs. Trickery was employed, and when Gorlim next arrived, he saw his wife through the window. He ran to her, but it was an illusion.

"He was captured, and Sauron promised to reunite him with his beloved Eilinel, if he would reveal the location of Barahir's camp. He does so, and is reunited with his wife- in death. He regrets his betrayal, and comes to Beren in his dreams. He warns Beren of the attack and Beren flees to the camp, but it is too late. The other companions had been slain."

"That is not an honourable namesake, Gorlim," she says, amusement blunting the hurtful words.

I merely smile. "My mother thought that his tale was romantic, for he gave up everything to be with his wife. My mother missed her husband greatly, I fear."

"Your father was a Ranger? I do not blame your mother, for it would grow tiring to have your husband gone for such long periods of time."

"That is what all the women of the dunedain must face, and many would not trade."

"What does that mean, 'dunedain'? I have come across it in my reading once or twice, but I did not realize who these men were."

"'Men of the West', an homage to our heritage. It is not what most people call us, and very few realize we are what we are. It is just as well, for they would never come to terms with it."

"Yet you tell me," she says in wonder.

"You have the intelligence to decide that Rangers are no threat, but are guardians. You deserve to have your answers, or as many as I can supply you with tonight."

While we talk we come upon Bree, and we fall silent for the moment. We do not notice one another as we bring our horses to the stable, and she does not look to me once we are inside. Our friendship does not come here, in this smoke filled room of her people.

It is near midnight when the last stragglers leave, and Ellen comes to me in my room. She stands in my doorway, hands poised upon her stomach.

"I owe you some answers," I say, leading her into the room.

"I did not come here for answers, Ranger. You will ride off to danger as the new sun peaks her head over the Southdowns, will you not?"

"Aye."

"Then there is no time for questions," she decides, reaching for my hand.

There is the hint of virginal hesitation as her lips brush mine for the first time, but it is quickly replaced by passion. We will make use of the most comfortable beds in the Breelands tonight…

~*~

It is not until we lie, spent, that she asks of me what I cannot deny.

"Must you leave?"

"I must."

"And you shall not come back, shall you?"

"I may not."

"Then you must tell me what tears you away from me so soon."

"Duty, my lady."

"What duty? Surely there is nothing so important that you would part from me so soon."

"I have sworn to protect these lands until death."

"Is it so bad?"

"It is," I say, kissing her eyelids.

"Then you will need aid! There must be something I can do, carry messages perhaps?" Her voice is panicked, desperate and dangerous.

There would be no harm in having her pass on the message of our location, as long as she followed strict rules.

"Very well. If a Ranger comes, you must tell them of a band of orcs which head this way. There is an ambush, and I will give you a map to its location. You mustn't speak of this map to any but those who can tell you the name of our chieftain is Aragorn. Tell them they are thrice our number, and that aid is needed."

"Thrice? You cannot stop that many."

"We may, we may."

"You will not! It is so purely improbable that I refuse to believe you. Take men of Bree to fight, they will."

"I cannot, Ellen."

"But these are our lands! We have been here for so many years…" her throat hitches in a sob, and I pull her close.

"There is no help that they can give, Ellen. But if will stop those silly tears, I will make you a vow. You must give my message to all Rangers who pass, and if our battle goes ill, I will send news to you. You can prepare the men of Bree to fight, if we do not succeed. But you must not speak a word of it to anyone until a green handkerchief is delivered to you."

She nods her acceptance, and no more words are spoken between us. She sleeps, but I will stay awake, contemplating the dawn that will take me away from someone I have only just met. But if I have known her for so short a time, why does my heart tug at the thought of leaving? A promise made echoes in my head, a promise made to stop tears I should have been glad to see fall. I have allowed my actions to be decided by this woman, and I cannot explain why. Questions I ask, and questions are all I receive.

Dawn is a welcome sight. I finish saddling Alassë as the first birds sing their morning tunes, and head down the road. In the room, she stills sleeps, blissfully unaware that all that is left of me is a hurried map on the pillow and a lingering scent.

Duty has called.

.........

Somewhat long, and some actual (rather tired) plot. Reviews and feedback still appreciated.