[maikafanawen]

The ride home was peaceful. It seemed as though the Vala had taken pity on them, and spared them the treacherous elements. Wren hadn’t left Turthol’s side. Once she had found out the truth, she had apologized profusely for comparing him to Sartir. For the hundredth time Turthol had laughed and told her to put a sock in it. He didn’t speak of it any longer but Wren knew it still hurt. So she did her best to entertain and keep his mind off of it by telling funny stories and asking him uplifting questions that started jovial conversations.

She was the only one whose heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when the harbor of Harlond came into view. It was then the noblewoman realized that Turthol would depart and go back up north, leaving her. And still she had not roused the guts to ask him about staying, or her going.

The company rode north to Minas Tirith staying yet again at Wren’s estate. The elves left soon followed by Bregand, Carmalita and Tareth. Rangar and Turthol stayed a while longer, in no hurry to return from whence they had come. They lingered in the Chambrias’ much to Wren’s enjoyment.

* * * * *

The rain poured outside as Wren sat by the fire putting together pictures she had drawn for an instructional book on fencing and Turthol played his fife, his feet propped up on a foot stool.

“Finally finished mending your jerkin?” asked Rangar coming in, balancing his goblet of mellow spirits on the book he’d bored in one hand, and closing the door with his other. Wren smiled, remembering how infuriated her mother had been when she’d come home with a completely soiled jerkin that she had made her mend, and held up her newest pictures. “Very nice,” he admitted. He took a seat on the sofa and opened his book.

Wren had spent the past week avoiding her usual friends, working on things for her father and trying to think of the best way to approach Turthol. All her efforts had failed and tonight she decided she’d have to really get through.

She got her chance after dinner. Everyone was asleep except for Turthol who was meandering through the library. Wren entered pretending to be looking for one of her father’s books. Turthol saw her and walked over, two books in his hands.

“Hello,” he said suddenly, thinking to startle her. She jumped and turned.

“Oh, I-uh-I-uh I didn’t--”

“Yes you did.” She didn’t give up her guard.

“No, I honestly didn’t,” then she narrowed her eyes and slanted her eyebrows. “Why are you still here anyway? Aren’t you going home anytime soon?” He shrugged.

“I get nice accommodations and free food here, why should I want to leave.” Upset by his remark Wren made to leave but Turthol touched her elbow.

“Why do you embarrass me like this? You know why I’m staying.”

“I do?” Turthol nodded, grinning. I’m working on expanding my knowledge of herb lore so I can be of some extra help to the rangers up north. Your father has the most decent library in Gondor. And--” Wren looked up hopefully and when she did he bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Well, goodnight Wren.” He left her stunned in the library, taking his two books with him.

The next morning was spent packing. Turthol, Rangar, and Wren were going up north.

“A ranger? What?? Oh, no no no no no.” Doralyn rushed around Wren’s room, unpacking things as quickly as Wren shoved them into her single saddle bag.

“Father says it’s a good idea. I am a good fencer and the King can always do with more Gondorian rangers if I can’t be of any use to the Dunedain.” In her fury, Doralyn knocked over Wren’s dusty collection of perfume bottles spilling the contents over her unused vanity. Wren laughed.

“You talked with Mauriace about this? AND HE AGREED!!”

“Yes I did,” said a bemused voice from the hallway. “Doralyn, will you please excuse me, I would like to have a few words with Wren before she leaves.”

“Then you can wait because she’s NOT leaving!!” bellowed Mrs. Chambria.

“Yes she is, and get out.” In a frantic efforts of sputtering dissents, Doralyn was removed from the room and Mauriace winked at Wren.

“All set baby?” The noblewoman held up her saddle bag and tied her sword to her waist.

“Rangar says I need to learn to use a bow too, oh and daggers. I also need to train my horse if I’m to be under Faramir. I’m thrilled. This is exactly the turn around I need. Plus I’ll--” Mauriace held up a hand as Doralyn began to pound on the door. ‘Go!’ he mouthed. Wren nodded and slipped through the panel-door on the other side of the room where Minstria was waiting to show her down to the stables where Rangar and Turthol were saddled up and ready to go.

“Tell Mum I said goodbye and I love her even though she’s a mad old bat.” Minstria pursed her lips and shoved Wren on her way. The noblewoman turned and pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll miss you too Mini!”

Her saddlebag was tied to Culfin’s new saddle and she mounted, tough leather boots finding their place in the stirrups and her gloved hands taking the reins. She was ready for the training she was about to face. At age thirty five she was going to be the oldest novice there.

“All set?” asked Turthol mounting his own steed. Wren nodded enthusiastically and he frowned. “You know, this isn’t going to be some fancy outing. You’re going to be put through a lot of endurance testing and skill training. Being a Ranger isn’t just fending off orcs with your sword. You need to be a good tracker, healer, and know your way around the woods. For instance, when I started out I was half as giddy as you’re acting and I had a shock. I can’t imagine what you’re going to think…” Wren smiled and rode contentedly beside him listening to him spiel about the stamina of a ranger. She knew she was ready for whatever was to come, as long as--

“Rangar!” Laughing like mad, the ranger watched as the noblewoman struggled to keep her seat on the saddle as her horse reared from being slapped on the rump.

“Whoa! Whoa Culfin whoa!” The mare settled and Wren turned on Rangar. “Okay, very nice, come ‘ere!” Wren chased Rangar with Turthol in hot pursuit trying to break it up into the morning sunrise, away from the fineries and luxuries of Gondor to learn what it meant to be known as a ranger.