As Seregrían toils in her torment, a message arrives for her at Torech Besruth from someone she did not expect to hear from – for Arwen Undomiel bids her to return in haste to Rivendell and find her there. Swiftly the Elf-scholar departs and makes her way to the Hidden Valley once more. Upon her arrival, she learns that Arwen has retreated to Imdolen, on the heights above Rivendell. She joins Arwen in her solitude, and the two speak together of many things, coming to a subject which touches them both.
“You are among those aware of the Company who departed Imladris on its daring and secret errand”, Arwen says. “Tidings have come from Lothlorien, as well as the word you brought out of Moria: the Company is in perilous straits. Mithrandir has fallen into shadow, and now we learn Aragorn leads them south on their journey.”
“My Lady, there is less than nothing I can do to aid their endeavor”, Seregrían says. “Even were I to set out this night, I have little hope of overtaking them, to say nothing of finding them in the Wild. Even were I able to, what could I accomplish? If your father did not include a lord like Glorfindel, who with all his power could not blaze the trail into the Black Land, what hope can I offer for the Company?”
“I speak to hope, for the Company and for their errand, but not the way you are thinking. You can provide hope to them, indirectly. You know the Grey Company of the Dunedain is mustering here, prior to their ride south. I would ask that you accompany them, Seregrían. I know your mind and heart are set upon the path to find your mother’s hope - and yours – but should the Company’s errand fail, then your hope will wither, as will all the world’s hopes.”
“You are asking me to forsake my own kin? To ride with Men to some doom of arms, and forego taking the fight to the East? You advised me to seek your kin in Lothlorien, and now your counsel changes because of – your concern for a Mortal? For that is what this is about, isn’t it?”
A dark look. “You forget to whom you speak. My doom is tied to the fortunes of the Company, as are yours. You seek to save your mother; I seek to aid my beloved. These two threads are woven into the same cloth – a banner, if you will, a standard which will be carried to victory, if the Powers allow. My betrothed has taken the Sword Reforged to war, and he shall also bear this!”
Seregrían notices for the first time that Arwen stands before a tall staff, wrapped in black cloth. Arwen grasps it and holds it forth. “The days grow swiftly short. For all our hopes will come true, or all our hope will end. This then is my counsel, my bidding – my plea to you, Seregrían. Take this which I have wrought, and present it to Halbarad, the leader of the Grey Company, and kinsman to he who holds my hope. I would bid you ride with them, if not for all their journey then as long as you are able. Though you might not burn a path to Mordor, your light can show them the path to their destiny. Help them, speed their passage to victory. At some point along the way, you may turn aside to Lothlorien and return to your own errand: but not before this, I beg you. Will you do this?”
Seregrían is, in a rare moment, humbled into silence by Arwen’s words. It is clear her contempt of mortal kind is not shared by all, especially the Evenstar of her people. Her heart and doom are twined with this Man, this Aragorn – and he must surely be of high doom for her heart to cleave to him thus. Hesitantly, she takes the staff and looks again at Arwen.
“Thank you, Seregrían. Now find Halbarad and give him my word. But before you depart, seek out my father. He has not left his library, but others have done his bidding, and I am told he awaits you there.” Seregrían can do nothing but nod her respect and departs swiftly for the stables where the Grey Company gathers.
