150 Years Ago
(NOTE For Background, see Bad Fish - Xan's Humble Chronicler)
Xanderian of Rivendell sat silently in borrowed chambers, staring listlessly out the window at the twilight dancing over the shallow pools of the glen. Once this view would have filled her with delight...but not today. Today her fingers impatiently drummed the table top to her side, the rich pale wood dampening the sound. This day seemed so long..yet so short. Today was the day she became a soldier.
It had been nearly three long months since the wreckage of her sister, Xandilif, had been found and borne back to the Last Homely House, and today she had finally been released from the Houses of Healing. Why it had to be this of all days, the young Huntress did not know...the day she had to become a soldier.
When the patrol had found the Champion, floating bloody and unconscious in the shallows of the Bruinen, it was assumed that she would not live long and little attention was paid to her. She was placed in the Houses of Healing and it was briefly discussed amongst the learned that perhaps the medicine of Lord Elrond himself should be brought to bear to save her, but when it was discovered that she was a daughter of Anerial, Kinslayer of Thangulhad, the idea was awkwardly dropped. Best to let whatever foolish misadventure she had found herself in take its course, it was thought.
But her misadventure HAD taken it's course, in ways they still had not grasped...and once they brought her great sword to her as she weakly requested, she began to improve rapidly. If they had wasted any more thought upon her recovery, the learned might have seen that her improvement was a bit TOO rapid. They did ask her however, when she had grown stronger, what had happened to her and who she could possibly have run afoul of, yet the Champion would not answer them. She kept her own counsel stubbornly, cursing them when they grew too inquisitive, which caused the wise to mutter "Perhaps she is as mad as her father, or worse..." and they left her be.
"Is your gear all packed, Monk? Your blasted rucksack already weighs a ton...whattcha got in there, a library?" The raucous voice from behind her caused her to turn her head. Xandilif took up most of the doorway, already fully armored for a long ride despite the bandages Rian knew were still beneath the heavy plate. The great sword she had bought home with her was across her back, seeming not to weigh an ounce. SilverWand, her sister had called it and looking at it made Xanderian feel funny.
Xanderian sighed, then practically whined..."I only prepared what was required, Banshee. They were very specific that I could not bring anything more. Not a single thing..." She thought sadly for a moment of all the items and childhood treasures, and yes, precious books, she had had to abandon.
The Champion laughed harshly. "Trust me, you will be living rougher then you're used to for a few years, you will be damn glad for a lighter pack. Sentinel at the Gate of Imladris ain't rough duty, but no picnic either. Keep yer nose clean and see what comes...Checking travelers at least you will get to see new faces now and again."
"But why?" The young huntress whined again. "Why do I wish new faces, or any faces at all? Can't I have my desk back and be left alone? PLLEEAASSEEEEE...."
Lif shook her head harshly...taking the moment to continue packing a few more items in her own rucksack. "No you cannot Monk, so shut up about it. They were damned clear about that. You ain't never gonna be no Master Scholar and the librarians are sick of some no account kinslayer-spawn dirtying up their sunlight. Once you got no protected place with the Library, you do your service same as anyone..same as I did. Look, the Gates ain't bad duty. Sometimes menfolk come through..."
"I don't like the Sons of Numenor, Gawad, they smell bad..." Xanderian glared up at her older sister and whined.
"Then don't sniff them, Lethril..." Xandilif whined back and smirked. The use of their girlhood names, Gawad and Lethril, made the younger Elleth giggle despite herself.
"Will I have to meet Dwarves, too?" Xanderian shuddered while her sister shrugged.
"Unlikely, but possible. Not a bad thing, Rian. I am telling you those Longbeards are hilarious, and they make the silliest sounds when ya rub em right. As for the Men, get your head out of your damn history books. They ain't no sons of sunken Numenor no more, and they don't smell that bad, 'specially not the little o..." Xandilif grew silent for a moment, her face darkened as memory flooded in. "Little ones...Bram...Ann...Tris..." she whispered and her mailed fist crushed the flash of Athelas she was packing.
Xanderian went silent as well, just watching her sister. She still didn't know what exactly had happened, but her sister had said it had been on the road in Evendim where she was wounded. Sitting by her bedside in the Houses of Healing, she had heard Lif cry those names again and again in her sleep...Bram, Ann, and especially Tris...and she had even heard her cry for their Mother, long departed for the West. Xandilif HATED their mother. Seeing Xandilif the Banshee so shaken as to call for her made Xanderian deeply uneasy.
Feeling her sister staring, the Champion shook herself and turned, her normal swagger restored. "Now stop mewling like a lopsided Ox and get your gear, the horn will sound soon and if you are late to muster, you'll start out your military career doing double shifts."
Xanderian sighed and rose, the ill-fitting leather jerkin and forest green hauberk already chaffing her. At her belt was a short sword of middling quality. A decent bow, standard issue, stood in the corner awaiting her.
Her sister snorted. "Not much of a solider are you, Monk...but you will have to do. Remember, fire straight and fast and first, always first. Another thing, always keep a second quiver out of sight. It scares the loinclothes off those orcish bastards when they think you got endless arrows. Also, whenever ya can, skate on a shield down stairs. That makes em CRAZY."
The younger Elleth tried to look brave. "What are you going to do Lif? You aren't fully healed yet." She reached out and set a concerned hand on her sister's shoulder.
Xanfilif shook off the hand. "I am healed enough, and SilverWand will keep me on my feet." She patted the hilt of the greatsword. "As for what I am going to do...I'm a soldier too Rian, I just wear a different uniform. I am going to Annuminas...then to Angmar. I intend to get some answers about the slaving trade in Evendim, and that is the best place to start. The center of the feckin web."
The horn sounded and Xanderian swallowed hard, her voice breaking. "Gawad...sister...will we ever see one another again?"
Xandilif smirked and picked up her gear, "We will Monk...whether you like it or not." And with that she turned and stalked to her waiting horse, ignoring the fact that her younger sister had started to weep. She worked on buckling her saddle and bags properly until the tromp of the boots of the new recruits, and Xanderian's tears, had faded out of the valley. Resting her head against the saddle she whispered "Be safe Lethril...the further I am from you right now, the better your chances are. Just be safe..."
She swung up and with a last sigh, Xandilif the Banshee rode out of fair Rivendell at the beginning of a cause...and would not return for another 100 years.
