Sword and Arrow

Chapter 4

Aragorn and Beruthiel swiftly walked through the gardens of Rivendell, headed towards the High Terrace for a Council. It was early morning, and shreds of clouds drifted through the sky with the brisk wind. The sun's rays were just peeking over the lip of the valley sheltering Rivendell, and the air was crisp and cool. The Valley of Imladris was waking up, with birdsong in the air, and a few elves hurried through the halls.

Both Aragorn and Beruthiel wore their formal Ranger uniform: a green belted sleeveless tunic over a white shirt, the oakleaf insignia embroidered at the left breast, dark green breeches, and soft brown boots, and an ornate double scabbard, a polished black with silver chasing. The worn saxe and throwing knives rather ruined the effect. Instead of their usual green-and-grey mottled cloaks, they both wore half-capes, offset at the right shoulder, with the same green-brown-gray pattern. Four stylized arrows, embroidered in silver, ran diagonally down the length, representing the quiver. Even though, of course, the quiver was typically worn on the belt. Aragorn had convinced  Beruthiel to comb her hair (for once), and she had grudgingly agreed.

Beruthiel glanced up at the sun as the pair hurried through the House. "We have time," Aragorn said to her, wishing that his half-cape provided the warmth the full cloak did. Beruthiel nodded.

"Thing is, by 'we have time', you mean that there's time until the last second," she told him. "I, unlike you, like arriving before time."

"Yes, but I, unlike you, have longer legs, so I can walk faster than you." Aragorn demonstratively picked up his pace so Beruthiel had to jog to keep up.

"Not fair," she protested. Aragorn grinned. He slowed down so she could catch up. Beruthiel went to turn left, the way to the Terrace. Aragorn took her hand and pulled her to the right, pulling her off balance so she stumbled into him. He grinned at her again.

"I know a shortcut." Beruthiel rolled her eyes.

"This better not be like your last shortcut," she muttered, following him.

"Oh, that was a mistake," he said easily. "Besides, I'd never been to Carn Dum before that." Beruthiel gaped at him.

"You said you knew that place like the back of your hand!" Aragorn rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh." He shrugs. "Well, you were the one who tripped let the wraiths know we were there." Beruthiel scowled up at him.

"It was your plan that used me as bait and nearly got me killed!" Aragorn sighed.

"Sacrifices," he said lightly. Beruthiel rolled her eyes and bumped him with her shoulder. Aragorn did likewise, sending her staggering.

"I have to remember to stop doing that," she muttered, rubbing her shoulder. Aragorn laughed.

"Yes, you should."  He led her under a narrow arch (why were there so many arches here?) and through a narrow alley. It opened out onto a large garden, where a caramel-haired elleth was weeding. She looked up at the sound of footsteps. Aragorn nodded at her, grinning, and she blushed red to the rips of her pointed ears.

"You'd flirt with anything in a dress," Beruthiel muttered as they moved out of the garden. Aragorn turned to her, raising his eyebrows.

"Is that why you don't wear dresses?"

"I- what?" she stuttered. "What does that even mean?" Aragorn chuckled and took the lead again. Beruthiel studied him. Tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly kept dark, dark brown hair, intense grey eyes, high cheekbones, a crooked nose that she had once broken (by accident!) and had never set right that Dunedain women thought gave him a roguish look- yes, she could see why women blushed at his dazzling smile.