"Halt! Who goes there?" Tancamir whirled around as three hooded figures dropped from the trees above, and moved to stand protectively in front of his sister. Uilossiel looked about with wide eyes. Clutching her brother's cloak in one hand, she whispered, "Who are they?"
One of the figures approached and threw back his hood. It was a Man, with clean-cut features and shaggy brown hair. He carried a longbow and bore a silver brooch upon his shoulder, shaped like a star.
"Travellers, what is your business in the lands north of the Mitheithel?" he asked, face softening as he saw the surprise in both of the Elves' eyes. "Beg pardon if we startled you, fair friends." The Ranger chuckled and motioned for his companions to stand at ease. Tancamir glanced around, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Arandor? Why you have grown much since I saw you last. Skinny as a sapling you were, but a fine shot with that bow of yours." Tancamir quirked an eyebrow at the man. "I wonder if you still remember Cúrandir, the odd Wandering Bow who used to hang around Esteldín?"
The man stopped for a moment, an expression of astonishment on his face, before chuckling in disbelief. "Do I ever! I could not forget your name, for sure." One of his companions stepped forward, scowling.
"How do we know if this edhel is the one he says he is?" a younger Ranger muttered under his breath, shooting a dark glance at Arandor. "Subtle and numerous are the spies and devices of the Enemy."
"Peace, Dírion." Arandor raised an eyebrow at the elf. "Cúrandir, what proof can you give to my friend here? He is young and knows only of the Wandering Bow from tales."
Tancamir smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a worn compass. "You may know this - the keepsake of Targon and his daughter Ruinel after him." He made a formal bow, in a fashion Uilossiel did not recognize, placing one hand over his heart and another at his side.
"I goth-e-gothen vellonen." The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He murmured the words, head bowed.
Dírion raised an eyebrow, whispering to Arandor. "He knows our pass-phrase. And that compass - how came he by that?"
Arandor glanced at Dírion with a shrug. "Damned if I know how he got his hands on it. But I know of the Wandering Bow, and he was trusted in Esteldín when I was a youth. Hold your peace."
Smiling, Arandor stepped forward. "Then we welcome you, Cúrandir, friend of the Rangers. But who is your companion?"
With a rustling of her travelling-cloak, Uilossiel took a step forward, regarding the Rangers with unabashed curiosity. "I am Uilossiel, younger sister of Cúrandir. He has spoken fondly to me of you, and of his time here."
"And what brings you back to our lands, Cúrandir?" asked the third Ranger, a stout man with cropped brown hair. He carried a quarterstaff and a longsword, but most curious was the satchel slung at his side. Uilossiel could not resist stealing a glance or two at the inscription embroidered on the satchel, or the scraps of rolled-up parchment which stuck out of it.
"Ah, Saelrein. My sister and I are merely passing through, to Imladris. We are returning from a journey to Lindon, and you know I could not come this way without passing through the lands which are dear to me as well." Tancamir gave the Ranger a good-natured grin. "Still at your lore-gathering? "
The man smiled gruffly, then turned to Uilossiel and bowed. "Mae govannen, híril." To her delight, Uilossiel found that his accent was slight, his intonation nearly perfect. She smiled and returned the greeting.
"Well met indeed, Wise Wanderer. I am a scholar as well, you know. I work in Imladris, most of the time, but had some business in Lindon."
Saelrein chuckled to himself, then replied in a gruff voice, "I know the library of Imladris well, híril. Many treasures are to be found there - but you will see that my people here have no little collection of our own texts, as well."
Arandor slung his bow over one shoulder, then rummaged in his pack for two strips of cloth. "Well then, Cúrandir, if you wish to come visit, you know the routine." He winked at the elf. "Your sister here may not, but it is our custom to bind the eyes of those new to our haven, lest it be discovered by treachery."
Tancamir nodded, chuckling to himself. "Do as you will, my sister and I will be honoured to be in your company." He glanced at his sister anxiously, but she did not seem fazed in the slightest. Grinning, he reached for the cloth and tied it over his own eyes, then turned and clasped Arandor by the hand. "Lead the way, friend."
"By all means, we are most glad for your hospitality." Uilossiel smiled brightly and bowed her head as Arandor tied the cloth over her eyes. "I would ask that you be careful with my horse, Agarel. May he walk beside me, as we go there?"
"I will take him, híril." Saelrein smiled and took a hold of Agarel's bridle, whispering soothingly to the animal. "Dírion, take master Cúrandir's horse, if you please." The youngest member of their party grumbled a bit, long black hair falling half over his hooded face, but complied.
In single file they made their way through the wood, Arandor leading the way, hand in hand with Tancamir. Uilossiel walked beside Saelrein, laughing softly as they conversed in Sindarin. Slowly the trees began to thin, and the haven of Esteldín came into view. Arandor called a halt, and the two Elves removed their blindfolds. Tancamir gazed at the ancient ruins which formed the outer walls of the haven, lost in memories.
"Ai … It has been too long, my friends. So much has changed - and yet, our friendship has not, eh?" He turned to Arandor with a grin. "I have heard good things of you, from some of your kin I have chanced to meet while travelling in the Passes, or in the lands to the south. You are a captain now, correct?"
Arandor smiled proudly. "That I am. I was promoted only a year ago, in fact."
Tancamir clapped him on the back, smiling. "I always knew you had promise. Lead on, friend. My sister and I have travelled a long ways today, so nothing could be more welcome than to fall in with you and your companions." He dared a glance back at the horses, where Uilossiel and the gruff lore-master were deep in some conversation - about scholarly subjects, he would wager. Whistling, he followed Arandor and the others as they led him and his sister into the haven of the Dúnedain, feeling as if he had finally found a piece of himself that had been lost for many years. It was good to return, though the place held memories both bitter and sweet for him. One last stop on the road, and then he and Uilossiel would be home again in Imladris, ready for whatever awaited them ahead.
