Xanderian unrolled yet another map lovingly across the rich carpet. The massive fireplace in the Library bathed her in warm golden light as she sat like a little girl on the rug, surrounded by scrolls and books as she carefully planned routes into the unknown.
She made careful notes to herself, referring both to the volumes in the library but her own notebooks, recalling past journeys. She took the safety and happiness of her companions very, very seriously, especially when leading them into danger.
The elleth smoothed the map of the North Downs carefully with graceful caresses, noting the parchment was much the worse for wear and that several areas were clearly incorrect to her hunter’s eye. Flipping to her own hand drawn maps in her notebook she noted the secrets roads to spare, harsh Esteldin, the hidden refuge of the Rangers on the edge of Angmar not included on the Library maps. She carefully reacquainted herself with the secret trail flags and signs she would need to guide her charges, and hurried penned an encoded note to Dagoras warning him that Nightwind would be returning to Esteldin soon, guiding friends. It pained her for a moment, to write her Dunedain name for the first time in years, but it was essential in this case. She would need the welcome that name would offer her amongst the Rangers as she would have the safety of two precious companions in her hands.
The first of these two, Cyndwin, had grown strong over the last few months to match the fierceness that had always been hers. Xanderian had no doubt that she could face the threats of both the Downs and Angmar without flinching, having inherited the raw power and steely determination, as well as the golden beauty, of her Rohirric blood. There were few threats that she did not feel comfortable facing back to back with her beloved Cyndwin, and certainly none that roamed the Downs.
The second, Gretal however, was untried and untrained. Xanderian set down her quill for a moment, gazing into the fire, smiling to herself as she thought upon the chestnut-haired Breelander, whom she had met while gazing into a similar fire in the Pony.
The beautiful, brusque Breelander had inquired of the elleth quite boldly if she had seen a pretty womanchild of Beggar’s Alley who appeared to be unaccounted for. The last time anyone had asked the huntress such a question it had been a disreputable looking dwarf who smelled of axel grease and yeast, so this inquiry caused her to take notice. However, it was clear from a cursory examination of the woman and her disposition that mischief was not foremost on her mind beyond companionship. Rather she was truly concerned and interested in her quarry who was an employee of hers, given sole responsibility over several abandoned chickens. Her compassionate concern caused Xanderian to enter into conversation with her. The elleth huntress and the Breeland laborer slowly grew at ease, drawn to one another for reasons that could only be called fate, until they were holding hands, speaking in low, confidant tones before the fire.
Xanderian shook her head as she reached for another map, remembering her shock when she discovered that the girl that Gretal sought was in fact dear Audea, the Easily Intimidated Songstress. By the time of that discovery of course, Gretal’s destiny had changed, and she found herself bound to Xanderian’s twisted, complex path and willingly so. When the Breelander met Cyndwin and the two immediately became fast friends and tender companions, and later met Fille's approval, it was beyond dispute that this meeting had indeed been fated and she was destined for greater things. Soon the friends were plotting Gretal’s first forays out into the wide world beyond Breetown, and the chestnut maned woman was holding firmly to the hands of her new companions. So quickly had Gretal entered the confidence and private embraces of the friends that it felt as if she had always been there, would forever belong there.
The huntress looked down at the map she had sketched diligently into her notebook, whispering to herself. “Practical matters, Lethril, practical matters. Mounts and provisions, then along the Greenway to Trestlebridge, to the watchpoint of Amon Raith, skirting the corruption of Fornost for now, and then to Esteldin for provisions and training for Gretal with Gaellant, who I must also prepare a note for, telling her of our coming. As she trains the Rangers in bow craft, no doubt Gretal could benefit from her tutelage while we rest in Esteldin and I acquaint Cyndwin and she with the Rangers of those lands.”
Xanderian turned the page to the next map…and a series of questions. “From Esteldin, through Aughaire and into Angmar. We will then make for the haven of Gath Forthnir to speak with old allies, rest and see to more training for Gretal…then to Carn Dum and the search in earnest for Hildawyn of Thornhope shall begin.”
The elleth sighed, running quickly through the little she knew of Hildawyn’s situation, marked as questions in her notebook (See Journal 19 and Journal 21). It had been some days since Ynna had departed Bree in the company of the Solemn one and her Watchman, and she knew nothing of her fate, but keenly felt the responsibility she had taken on, to at least discover the fate of Ynna’s older sister, Hildawyn, lost in Angmar these three years.
Turning her mind from the uncertainties of her search for Hildawyn, Xanderian moved to the map of Rhovanion. “Once the business in Angmar is concluded…Cyndwin and I, with Fille and perhaps Gretal, will make for her homeland of the Westfold. Along the Anduin to troubled Stanhope I think where I have friends or did once, and from there into Eastern Rohan and the broad fields. Then to proud Edoras, and then the Westfold where we will face the challenge of Cyndwin's fate.”
The huntress looked back into the fire, the faces of her loved ones hovering before her mind’s eye like bright stars, mumbling to herself. “And then of course, we must bring Fillegedhiel home to Dol Amroth. So much to be done….and the days grow shorter. So quickly they pass away…and then…”
Xanderian whimpered softly…images of the endless sea awaiting her coming unbidden and she shuddered, the same nameless fear that she first felt as a girl welling up, an anxious sense of panic. The Lady Arahen’s promise of protecting her in the West and giving her purpose there had stilled the fear for a time…but more and more it rose like a fever within her these days, as if she could feel her doom bearing down on her like the crashing of the tide that echoes in her ears. And through it all, the voice whispering in her dreams, old and weary and harsh, telling her that she will be abandoned by all these friends and lovers she strives for, by the great Lady that pledges her safety. That she will be discarded in the West, the refuse of Imladris, to die eternally while her loved ones perish helplessly before the shadow she could not defeat.
With a crack she closed the leather bound notebook…banishing the cold cloak of fear by remembering the private conversation she had had with Xandilif some weeks past…remembering her sister’s horror and derision, but also her reluctant agreement to aid her in this desperate option, understanding her heart and mind as only she could, having walked through the same fire. If no other recourse could be found…then that option would still stand as the days of the age fade into dust.
“That option will still stand…as long as I do” she whispered as she gathered her things, slipped Heartbreaker over her shoulder and left the library, to continue her preparations as if doom were not stalking her at all.
