The Forgotten Love ~A Faramir Love Story~

Chapter IX

~5 years later, present day 3018 T.A.~

It was silent, marching in rhythm, to and fro, getting closer to the encampment. The quiet noise of the trained footsteps, heard only by very few, the very few who were trained to distinguish sights and sounds of movement aside forms the sounds of nature. 

Only the Rangers were capable of this task.

Gwen was one of these Rangers. For years now, she had been trained to determine the sounds of Men, Dwarves, Elves, evens Orcs, to study her subject, to decide what their next move would be, and whether to confront them or not.

The Dwarves were easy. It was said that their loud, dragging footsteps could be heard for miles. Gwen didn't believe that until she was assigned to escort a company of Dwarves, headed to Rohan for trade, to the edge of Dol Amroth. She decided that, although they stomped around, taking no care to conceal their presence, talked loudily, roguishly, and with great amounts of pride, they were truly kind and courageous. They took a liking to the young female Ranger, and she to them. A friendship had been formed by the time they reached the borders of Dol Amroth. Gwen was truly disheartened to see them depart.

The Elves were a completely different matter. Gwen had been with the Rangers for less than a year when the time had come for her to finally use her ability to speak Elvish. She was assigned by Captain Leomar to a company of Rangers to travel to Mirkwood. They were to deliver a message to King Thranduil from the Steward of Gondor. For nearly a month, the group traveled to Mirkwood, enduring rainstorms, mighty gusts of wind, as well as hail storms on the journey that otherwise would have only taken a couple of weeks. All for a few barrells of Elvish wine, the men would complain. Gwen, however, was truly excited to meet with the Elves. She had always been eager to place her eyes on the Elves of Middle Earth, and now soon her wish would come true.

The day had come when the group finally reached the borders of the Woodland Realm. They had been assured by King Thranduil that a group of Elven soldiers would guide them to the Mirkwood King's palace. However, when they arrived, there were no soldiers to be seen. The group was forced to cautiously proceed into the woods in hopes of finding the palace gates.
No such luck. Three days they wandered through the woods, having completely lost the trail and all hope of getting out alive, let alone finding the palace. The men had lost all spirit and will to move on. This was the end, was what they would mutter. They were hungry, tired, cold, and many were falling sick do to the musty, damp conditions of woods.

It was over.

Until, on the fifth day of wandering around, something strange happened. Around high noon, a Ranger gave a muffled cry. The others turned, only to find the man gone. They looked at each other in shock, calling his name and searching the thick brush. As Gwen went to look through the branches of a giant cedar, she was met with an arrow that nearly impaled itself into her eye.

"Ah!" She exclaimed, leaping back. The men all turned towards her, only to also be met with an arrow.

An arrow of a Mirkwood Elf.

The leader stepped forward, a knife pressed to the throat of the man who had disappeared. "Mana nalyë? Á quetë!" Who are you? Speak, the Elf had demanded in Sindarin.

Gwen had stepped forward, taking her chance of speaking with an Elf in his native tongue. "Essenya Gwennan. Emme n taur'ohtar Dol Amroth," she said clearly not in Sindarin, but in the more formal Quenya, which translated to 'My name is Gwennan. We are Rangers of Dol Amroth.' She had explained how they sought an audience with the King by request of the Steward of Gondor, pulling out the message and showing the head guard.

"Ańi apsenë, heninya!" Forgive me, my lady, the guard had exclaimed after examining the Steward's seal. Immediately he had released the young man, who swiftly ran back to the group.