*_*_*_*_*_*Disclaimer: This story is set in Tolkien's Middle Earth, and all of his characters and settings remain property of the Tolkien estate.*_*_*_*_*

Author's note: there is a character list and glossary in Chapter 42 at the end of the chapters list, if you need them for reference as you read!

There are a few 'pseudo-Elvish' words throughout, that can be found in the glossary!

"One touch will spark the bond,

Two, your love you will miss,

Three, your hearts will grow fond,

Four, fire bonds with a kiss."

(an Elvish poem, in the common tongue.)

When spark of love finds the mind's true love bond,

A touch will cause you your true love to miss;

A touch and your hearts will grow ever fond;

Unquenchable fire will burn in a kiss.

(long version of an Elvish poem, as translated by Talagand.)

Chapter 1

Farewell we call to hearth and hall -JRR Tolkien

In the ruins of Fornost, a patch of flowers bloomed below the wall of a house. The walled city surrounded them, hiding them from view of passers by. There were few of those in the lonely wastes of northern Eriador, where Fornost lay at the edge of the North Downs.

Thalion appeared suddenly from where he had blended into the shadow of a wall, throwing back his ranger's hood. The Dunedain commander cast a cursory glance at the flowers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he passed them. He entered his house, a rolled parchment showing from the open end of a tube he held in one hand. A stout, elderly woman bowed to him, saying "Commander."

"Ah, Gwifen. Is Eleirien in? I need to speak with her."

"Yes, milord, she is at tea wi' her latest suitor and your lady wife."

"Yes. I spoke with him yesterday. Kindly remind my daughter to come and see me, please?"

"Yes, milord." Gwifen bowed and headed to the room they were using as a parlor. She entered quietly. A petite blond lady in a lacy veil and frilly gown sat, making intricate stitchery on an embroidery hoop as she smiled at the young people across from her. A young lady in a simple gown sat, one hand lifted to the fervent kiss of a young man. He managed to look elegant, even in his martial attire, as he murmured a request to her. She withdrew her hand as she shook her head, eyes lowered, and his face fell.

The handsome young man turned abruptly away from Eleirien with a hurt look on his face. He bowed over the hand of her stepmother, Brethil, then straightened, turned on his heel, and left the sitting room, looking crestfallen. Brethil turned to look at Eleirien. "What a shame! He is such a nice young man, Eleirien. How could you decline his request?" She looked at the tall young lady reproachfully over the rim of her cup.

"Stepmama, I truly did not want to go strolling around the walls with him. And, Father wants me to visit him in his study this morning."

"Oh, very well," sighed Brethil, in a hurt tone of voice."But I know not how you expect to find a husband if you never get to know any of the young men here." She took a dainty sip of her tea and a dainty nibble of a sweet. Then she picked up her intricate embroidery project and stood. Her long blonde hair fell from under the lacy veil. She picked up the train of her gown with one beringed hand, and swept out of the room.

"Your father awaits you in his study, Miss." said Gwifen, then bustled away.

Eleirien called "thank you, Gwifen!" and sighed, then downed the contents of her own cup. She glanced scornfully at the large stitches in her own embroidery hoop, and flung it onto the table. Taking two of the pastries in her hand, she rose, and shook crumbs off of her plain but elegantly cut gown. Devouring the pastries as she went, she headed to her father's study.

Sunlight slanted in through a colored glass window over the table. A map scroll was spread out on top, weighted down on the corners. The man seated there had an athletic build, tanned skin, and dark hair streaked with grey. He was frowning, index finger on the map, as Eleirien came in. "Father," she said.

"Daughter," Thalion replied, " have a seat." He indicated the bench by the table . She sat facing him, and looked, puzzled, at the upside-down map. He sighed, resting one arm on the table, chin in hand, and peered at her with narrowed blue eyes. "That is the fifth...no, sixth suitor I have given permission to court you, Elei, and, it seems, to no avail."

She pursed her lips, then replied "Oh, Father, he was so boring."

"Boring? The soldiers of my company, fine officers, were they boring? And the Rangers who came from far across the lands? Or, when we went all the way to the sea, and sailed on a ship, were the seagoing men boring, too?" She smiled at him.

"Well, Father, none of them held a candle to you." He smiled back wryly.

"Ah, flattery...it is beneath you, Elei. Your stepmother has, as you must know, been trying hard to matchmake for you." She rolled her eyes. He sighed, and placed a hand over hers. "You are of age to wed. It chafes you not to be the mistress of my home, now, and I am sorry for that. For all her frilly ways, Brethil does brighten my days; but, she will never replace your mother, or you, in my heart. Child, I want you to find a lifemate, as I did with your mother. Whether you, too, will have the bond we had, of the mind-speak, I do not know. It may be only of Dunedain and Elves. But I do want you to be happy. Now, it is not an easy life, but if you want a change, your uncle and aunt in Breeland have offered to take you in. Consider it carefully. They love you dearly..."

She looked at his dear blue eyes, crinkled at the corners, and said, "I do not want to leave you, Father. Even from this outpost city."

"Nor I, you, child, but you see little enough of me, in these days of turmoil. New events are taking me far away very soon, I fear. Aragorn has sent news from down in Eriador. Evil forces have come as far as Buckland, and soon we will be at war with Sauron's armies. I will be heading to Rivendell, and taking Brethil back to live in Dale. So, rather than fret in Dale, under Brethil's rule, as I know you do here, consider going to Combe, to my brother's house. You at least may meet a different type of men, and may even find one you like." She pouted at his words, but he went on. "There will be wars closer to home, very soon." He pointed to the map. "Here, in Mirkwood, and here, in Lorien. Here, at the borders of Eriador. You can be useful in other ways at Combe. I truly am not just trying to marry you off."

Eleirien nodded, and clasped his hand back. "I will consider, Father, and quickly."

Three sudden blasts on a hunting horn rang through the air. Her father sighed heavily, rose, and hastily rolled up the map. He stuffed it in a leather tube. "Farewell, child. The muster is called, sooner than we feared. Come to me soon, if you decide to go to Combe, and you can leave with the company." Elei raised her hand to him imploringly, but he had already turned on his heel and was walking swiftly out to the stable.

The long day stretched out ahead of her, and Elei fretted, with no firm purpose in mind. Her attempt to enjoy baking in the kitchen was thwarted again by Brethil's schedule for the household, as all the pans were being washed. She decided to clean up her herb garden until tea time.

The warm sun shone through the trees onto Eleirien's shoulders as she straightened up from the herb garden. She stretched her arms overhead, then brushed off her gown. As she ducked under the washing strung across the doorway to the kitchen, she nearly collided with the stout housekeeper. "Sorry, Gwifen!" She exclaimed. The older lady looked up at her, clicking her tongue.

"Now, don't fret, milady. You didn't quite run me over. Tsk, tsk." she said, as she flashed a dimpled smile at Elei. She looked disapprovingly at the smudges on Elei's gown.

"Gwifen, can I have tea now?" asked Eleirien, pushing back her long black hair.

"Tsk, tsk, it's in the solar with Her already, you'll be lucky if there's any left. She called for it at half past, no word to look for you. I am sorry, m'dear." said Gwifen, bustling past Elei.

Elei sighed. Was it worth risking Stepmama's displeasure at her garden-soiled dress? Shaking her head, she turned to the pantry to find dried herbs for her own tea. Taking a small handful to the kitchen, she was frustrated to find no cup left for her to use. All of her favorite pottery was no doubt in use at her stepmama's tea, or packed for the move already. Elei stomped off to her room. She flung herself onto her bed and was dismayed to feel tears welling up in her eyes. Since her father's new wife had come, she had felt increasingly out of place. Now, with Father heading off to War and Brethil moving back to Dale, she would be even more in the way. Brethil was a good woman, but too efficient for Elei. It was amazing how she had set up in the ruins of Fornost, even contriving her "sitting room" where she could hold teas and greet visitors. She had taken over running Elei's father's household, leaving Elei at loose ends. Elei was only there for her to try her matchmaking efforts on. Plus, Brethil excelled at all the 'ladylike pursuits' Eleirien avoided. Elei's favorite domestic pursuit, cooking, was considered best left to servants, under Brethil's rule.

The thought of food roused Elei, and she blinked angry tears from her eyes and sat up. Yes, the bundle was there on her dresser. She stood and reached for the stack of flat squares wrapped in cloth. Opening one carefully, she broke off a corner of the dried berry and nut confection and nibbled at it. 'This is better!' she sighed, 'I needed a snack.' As she rewrapped the top piece and retied a ribbon around the stack, she decided. She would leave, go to her Uncle and Aunt now, before Father was too far away. She stowed the cakes in a leather pouch, and began packing her clothes.

Ten minutes later, Eleirien ran down the street toward the city square, still in the same gown, with a cloak tossed hastily over it. She headed to The Narrows, a slender alley, as a shortcut. There was only one side landing in the short block between her and the square, so she looked down the alley before she entered it. It looked clear, so she walked quickly . As she neared the landing, there was a clatter of hooves behind her. A shout rang out, "Lakh Hiru!"

She sprinted for the landing, and a voice called "Jump!" Elei sprung sideways toward the landing. Then she was suddenly airborne, as a strong arm around her lifted her up in front of a man on horseback. Eleirien gasped as a stampede of horses came past her feet, which were now kicking helplessly in the air.

Her rescuer reined in his horse with one hand as he tried to balance her out on the saddle in front of him. She clutched at his arm as he lifted her higher. Seated sideways, Elei sat upright, pushing her hips back to balance herself. Her bottom landed firmly across his lap. She flung out a hand to steady herself, and flushed at the sensation of his muscular chest under it.

"Thanks!" she gasped, " you can put me down now!" as she pried at the steely arm enclosing her. A finely tooled, golden-toned arm brace came up to her rescuer's wrist. As she marvelled at the gems set in it, she felt a warm breath on her cheek. Shyly she turned her head toward him, focusing downward at a broad chest covered with green velvet edged with golden trim. Raising her glance slightly, she saw very fine, pale silver mail links on a shirt that peeped out over the neck of his tunic. Fine chain mail extended upward in a close-fitting hood. Fascinated, she found herself watching his well-formed lips above a firm, slightly cleft chin. A lock of hair the color of the red autumn leaves peeked out over his forehead.

"Well?" he asked in a melodious voice. Startled out of her reverie, Elei raised her gaze to meet a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes. "Milady, you can dismount now if you wish." His warm brown eyes sparkled merrily at her. "Unless" he said, "you'd like a ride to somewhere?" His mouth curved into a smile, one corner ever so slightly higher than the other, with a dimple in his cheek. Blushing, Elei realized that his arm was relaxed now.

"No, thank you" she said, her voice suddenly throaty, then "I don't travel sidesaddle." came out in a squeak.

He cocked one eyebrow at her, smiled, and turned and leapt nimbly off his horse from behind her. He whistled briefly to his mount, and the horse stood stock still as he turned to her. Lifting his arms, he grabbed her firmly around the waist and swung her around him, planting her feet squarely on the cobblestones with dizzying speed.

"Milord", Eleirien managed to say, "Thank-" But he was already in the saddle again, bowing his head to her graciously. As he clicked to his horse, he winked at her before trotting away after his companions, the company in colorful cloaks. Elei swayed slightly as she watched him, trying to regain her composure.

"Y'all right there, dearie?", came a coarse voice, as a rough-looking yeoman shot out a steadying hand- which landed on her posterior. Shocked, Eleirien slapped his hand away, to the laughter of his cronies. Drawing herself up regally, she looked down her nose at the man. His eyes widened as he recognized her.

"Yeoman, where is my father, Commander Thalion?" She forced herself not to wince as the man's demeanor became instantly deferential to her haughty tone of voice.

"Oh! The commander is yonder, milady." he said, gesturing toward the far corner of the square, and bowing. Eleirien thanked him, and turned, nose in the air. As she headed towards her father, her heart fluttered at the sight of the company in colorful cloaks in front of him. As she approached, they wheeled away their horses to another corner of the square. She breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned briefly in disappointment, then laughed at herself. 'Silly, make up your mind!' she scolded herself. She was grinning ruefully as she approached the tall man. He turned toward her, a stern frown on his face.

"Daughter, what brings you here alone?" His eyes raked her over disapprovingly, noting especially her lack of any escort.

"I will go to my uncle and aunt in Combe, Father."

He smiled and clasped her hand in both of his. "We must make all haste." he said. "Go, and attire yourself for hard travel!" In her mind, he commanded "And dress as a boy." Elei smiled and shot back her own thought, "I love you, Father." Outwardly, She nodded, and turned toward home, grateful for the lieutenant who quietly followed her course through the army, and then the town, to lend respectability.

The yeomen saluted this time as she passed. As they rounded the corner of the square, Elei saw a larger company arriving on horseback. One figure spurred ahead to the earlier arrivals, heading straight to her rescuer, his taut figure conveying a sense of urgency. The green-hooded man tensed and lowered his head, then raised it in an abrupt exchange of words with the figure. She saw him draw in a deep breath, then relax his shoulders, nodding his head curtly. Then she and her escort passed the corner, and they were out of sight.

Eleirien bundled her belongings into her pony's saddlebags and looked one last time at her father's outpost house. Her flowers were beginning to bloom in the stone planter she had labored to build under her window. They brightened up the barren expanses of the stone ruins of Fornost. She sighed and went back to her room. She flipped her long black braid over her shoulder. Taking a flat strip of linen, she bound it around her chest, then searched for a brooch. A flat silver star flower caught her eye, and she pinned the band flat, then turned back and forth in front of the mirror. The wrap simply did not flatten her bosom as well as it used to. She toyed briefly with the idea of padding her abdomen to disguise the swell of her bust, but the horn's blast rang out. It was time to join the men, lest they leave her behind. She pulled on her tunic and leggings, then a jerkin, and gathered her daggers and short sword, buckling on their sheaths. She pulled her gloves over the tight sleeves of her tunic, and pulled the hem of her jerkin firmly down over the top of her tight leather leggings. Then she tugged up the fringed tops of her knee-high riding boots, and tossed her cloak on, pinning the hood closed under her chin. She pushed stray locks back from her face.

Stepping hastily outside, she hopped onto her pony. As she rode past ranks in grey, a cluster of men in red, brown, gold and green caught her eye. As she passed, one of them nudged his companion and exclaimed "maethilchen!", elbowing him with a laugh. The green-hooded man turned his keen gaze toward her. Eleirien saw a flash of his dark red, curling hair falling out of his hood before he turned away. "Elei-" called her father's voice, "-child." She prodded her pony on to the next group.

"Father!" Leaping nimbly to the ground, she ran to the tall commander as he pushed back his Ranger's hood. His bright blue eyes twinkled at her in concern. "Elei, are you certain you want to go to your Uncle and Aunt? A tavern is bound to be a change for you. Brethil would care for you."

"I know, Father, but Brethil does not need me. She would coddle me. If I were to go with you..."

He cut her off. "No, we've already been over this. Strider- I mean, Aragorn- needs our help. War is no place for you, nor can you keep our pace for the many leagues we must ride."

"Yes, Father. So," she said flatly, "I will go to my Aunt and Uncle's Inn, where I can be of use." She tossed her head, her own blue eyes flashing angrily, then softening as they met his. His face crinkled into a smile. "That's my child. Now, mount up, and we'll see you safely to the crossroads. I know your pony can run that far with us."

As the ranks rode out of the gate, Elei turned to her father curiously. "Father, who are the company in colors I saw?"

"Oh," he said, "those are our allies from Thranduil, King of the Wood Elves. They, too, are anxious to aid Aragorn."

"Is there a prince with them?"

"Prince? No, Legolas is not with this company." rumbled her father, preoccupied with glancing over the company. Elei saw that he was mentally counting and checking ranks and supplies. Straightening her short sword, she checked her daggers in their sheaths. She picked up the reins and urged her pony on to catch up with her father's lieutenants riding advance guard.