After Arathorn's death, Gilraen took her small son, Aragorn, to Rivendell for safety. There, she discovered her husband had not left this world without leaving her one final gift: she was expecting another child. Aragorn's sister, Amathorn, is a Ranger like him, and has sworn to follow her older brother for all of her days. She believes he is the one who will claim the throne of Gondor, even if he himself does not. When she helps him escort Frodo and the other hobbits to Rivendell, she meets a man who reinforces her belief that her brother is destined to restore the line of kings. Along the way, Amathorn realizes that for the first time in her life, her heart is being pulled in two directions...but does it have to be?
Chapter 1: Answering The Call
Amathorn watched from her post under an old beech tree as the cold pre-dawn light spread towards Buckland. From her hiding place, she could clearly see the Road as it wound across the landscape until it reached the border. She turned her gaze across the Road; even knowing where he was, she couldn’t see where her fellow Ranger, Lenglinn, had hidden himself. Good, she thought with approval. If I can’t see him, no one else can.
Suddenly, a loud, clear call rent the air. A great horn was sounding, its voice carrying all the way across Buckland to the two Rangers keeping watch. Amathorn tensed, gripping her strung bow tightly and nocking an arrow. A clatter and shouts of alarm were issuing from behind the wall.
Just as she was about to signal to Lenglinn that they should move closer to investigate, three black horses with hooded and cloaked riders blasted through the gate. They tore down the Road like demons, their horses snorting and frothing at the mouth. As she raised her bow, movement caught Amathorn’s eye.
Lenglinn, who had apparently already decided to move closer to the gate, was now in the Road, directly in the Riders’ path! Amathorn cried out a warning and loosed her arrow. It missed its mark, but Lenglinn dove to the side as the lead Rider’s horse swerved to avoid the projectile. The second Rider, however, spotted the downed Ranger, and his horse veered off the Road.
Amathorn’s heart leapt to her throat as a howl of pain pierced across the forest. Once the Riders had passed and gone around the curve of the Road, she sprinted from her post and rushed to Lenglinn’s side.
He was lying on the ground, his face white as a sheet, his left leg bent at an unnatural angle. A quick, gentle feel of the bone showed it was broken below the knee, thankfully only in one place. Amathorn quickly gathered two downed limbs, as straight as could be found, and placed them on either side of Lenglinn’s leg.
“Here,” she said, taking out a pair of leather gloves and offering them to him. “Bite down on this. I have to set the bone before I can splint it.” Lenglinn nodded, taking the gloves and clamping his jaw tightly around them. He groaned, clenching his fists, as Amathorn quickly aligned the bone before taking a leather cord and binding the wood tightly on either side of his leg.
She sat back on her heels with a sigh as she finished. “There,” she said. “It was a clean break. You should be back on your feet in a few weeks. Can you make it back to camp?”
Lenglinn nodded, still pale, but his jaw set firmly. “Help me up.”
As carefully as she could, Amathorn hauled him to his feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Slowly, they made their way across the Road and up the hill to his carefully concealed camp.
Once she settled him onto his bedroll, Lenglinn looked up at her, his face grim. “You have to go. Whatever the Riders were after, it plainly is no longer in Buckland. You have to warn Aragorn.”
Amathorn hesitated, torn. Her heart begged her to make haste and go to warn her brother, but surely duty demanded she stay here with Lenglinn?
As if sensing her thoughts, Lenglinn gave her a weary smile. “This camp is well-concealed, and if the Riders are after something that is no longer here, they will not be coming back. They will continue on and pursue their quarry.”
She sighed. “Very well. I’ll make for Saeradan’s cabin. I can gather supplies and send him to help you, while I go after Aragorn and his charge.” Amathorn began packing what few items she had left at the camp, which was little more than her bedroll and a few other small things. “Stay hidden until Saeradan comes for you. I likely won’t be back for some time.”
Lenglinn nodded. “Safe travels, sister.”
She clasped his arm gratefully. “Stay vigilant, brother.” With one last nod of farewell, Amathorn slipped off into the trees. She intended to cross the Southern Bree-fields, staying off the Road, and so hopefully she would come to Saeradan’s cabin before nightfall. It was no good heading for Bree; Aragorn would not linger, and passing through the town would draw unwanted attention as well as take valuable time.
The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Amathorn finally approached the cabin tucked away beside the hill. Silent as a shadow, she slipped up to the front door and knocked sharply, three short, two long. Friendly. Immediately, she heard footsteps inside, and a moment later a tall, balding man opened the door.
“Amathorn?” he exclaimed softly, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Hey, Danny Boy,” she said, lowering her hood with a small smile. “Is there anything for dinner?”
Saeradan rolled his eyes before ushering her inside and closing the door behind her. “I thought you were with Lenglinn, over by Buckland.”
He gripped her arm tightly, but his voice was steady. “He’s not…?”
Amathorn shook her head. “Injured, but alive. His leg is broken. I wanted to stay with him, but he insisted that I go on to warn Aragorn, and unfortunately, he was right. His camp is well-hidden; he’ll be safe.” Saeradan ladled out a bowl of stew and set it before her, along with a couple of slices of fresh bread.
She ate a few bites gratefully before meeting his gaze. “It’s as we feared, Saeradan: the Nazgul are in Bree-land.”
Saeradan, to his credit, gave little more reaction than for his face to turn pale. His voice and hands remained steady as he poured them both a cup of tea and sat across from her at the table.
“So you’ll be going after your brother, then?”
Amathorn nodded. “The Nine’s search will lead them beyond Bree, straight to my brother and the halfling in his care. Aragorn is a great warrior, but to face all of the Nine, alone, with a defenseless halfling to protect? Such a task is beyond even him.” She sipped at her tea. “And given what happened at Archet, and after…I cannot leave him to face this threat alone.”
Saeradan took a sip of his own tea thoughtfully. “You’ll be needing supplies, then. As much as you can carry.”
“I hope to catch them up before they make the Midgewater,” she stated. “If not, I can still aim for where I think they’ll go, but it won’t be certain. I cannot track them through the marsh, and trying to chase them through the Weather Hills could attract attention.”
“You’d best get some sleep, then,” Saeradan ordered. “You’ll want to set out before dawn if you want any hope of catching your brother, even with a halfling or two in tow.”
Amathorn quickly finished the rest of her hasty dinner before setting about packing her supplies. Her pack was bulging and heavy when she finished, but she knew the weight would disappear all too quickly once she left the Chetwood. She also penned a short letter, sealed it, and gave it to Saeradan.
“Send this to Esteldin,” she ordered. “You and the others will look to Halbarad in our absence. Aragorn has taught him well; he can keep an eye on Eriador until we return.”
In a rare show of deference, Saeradan bowed slightly as he pocketed the letter. “As you wish, my lady,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll be gone before I’m up in the morning.” Saeradan gave her a playful grin. “If you run into Candaith out in those hills, tell him he still owes me five silver.”
Amathorn laughed. “I will, Danny Boy, don’t you worry.” She sobered, fixing him with a piercing gaze. “The Nine may be moving on, but I fear this will have consequences for the Little People. I want as many as can be spared watching the Southern and Eastern borders of the Shire. Gandalf charged us to protect it, and we cannot let him down now.”
“It will be done, don’t you worry about that,” Saeradan promised.
She turned to descend into the cellar, where the extra bunks were housed, before stopping and looking over her shoulder. “Stay vigilant, brother.”
“Safe travels, sister. Sleep well.”
Amathorn nodded and sought her bed, immediately falling into a deep sleep, knowing she would need to be up before the Sun to continue her journey.
