Chapter Text
Fairiel, daughter of Fairien, knew little of life outside of Gondor, working within the palace walls atop the white city. She had days of running through the halls with the young boys, Boromir and Farimer, pretending to be knights and warriors that defended the city. Her mother was a quiet woman, a maid who tended to the Steward’s house. Her mother seemed to know Farimer’s teacher well, a wizard named Gandalf. Fairiel didn’t speak often to the wizard while he was teaching her friend, but she remembered him staring often at her with a knowing look. But at night, when Fairiel laid in bed, her mother told stories of a lost line that disappeared after the fall of Isldur.
A line of Queens, lost women of Númenórean and of House Hador, spreading from Dale to the borders of Lothlórien, they were able to bring people back together for a time and brought peace. The line was of mighty warrior queens, whose songs could rally the hearts of any man. The queens loved their people, working to make them happy and safe. Tulyisse was the greatest of these queens, and was a friend to the Elves of Lothlórien and Mirkwood, having personally help them fend off Orc attacks and even recover from the attacks. She encouraged friendship between the Elves and Men, becoming known by the Elven name of Ýridhrenil granted by Thranduil after helping recover from another attack by the Orcs. This name also came with a blessing that whatever realm her line comes to rule will always be prosperous and strong. But greedy Men wanted that power, and they found out how to get that power.It was discovered that only a Númenórean of great honor could stand on equal grounds with such power. And men who sought that power used that to their advantage, having her marry off her daughters in hopes one husband was of that might only to be tricked afterwards. The marriages cut up the land and soon the line of Queens. The line of Tulyisse was spread out and lost. Her name became forgotten to time, stories becoming rumored among those who did not have the texts. But her line was easy to tell by the aspects of those striking emerald eyes and fiery red hair.
These stories Fairiel grew up with, hearing of the exploits of Tulyisse and her daughters. But time went on and Fairiel grew from a starry-eyed girl to a young woman. As she reached 16, she was cast out of the palace after her mother died, no reason for her to stay. The death of her mother and the push from her home tainted Gondor for her, she had to leave. Her time with the sons of Denethor taught her how to use a blade, finding it very natural for her. This skill became useful as she traveled towards Rohan to learn of Gondor’s ally. There she learned to properly ride and fight atop a horse, how to work hard and get used to the grit and dirt, and how to drink properly. She learned that hand axes were her best friend in a fight, it much easier for her build than to try to use a heavy longsword. But the young woman could not stay there, wanting to see past the Misty Mountains. She traveled about, getting as far as Bree to experience the joy of hobbits and the idyllic life the land could give. She grew and grew, but traveling idly with nothing to her name made life hard, making her turn to learning to steal from loose pockets and unaware merchants. It wasn’t respectable, but it got her a warm bed when in towns and food in her belly on her travels. As she traveled, she matured and grew into a beautiful young woman. Her skin was tanned from years in the sun, freckles and slight scars riddled along her face and body. She stood tall, and could almost be thought of as a short elf. Red hair that flowed down to the mid of her back, slight curls in it making it wild and typically tamed into a braid or a braided bun. Her form was slightly curvaceous, supported by the muscle she built from her travels. She remembered to sing, her voice a high alto that roused a bar into cheers and laughter. But what stood out were her bright emerald eyes, her gaze able to shake a grown man.
This was her life until she started making Bree a more regular stop in her nomadic cycle. There she met an interesting man. He was gruff, knowledgeable of the land, well spoken and had eyes that captured her. He was only known to her as Strider. Of course, the way they met wouldn’t make them friends at first, no one would want to be friends with someone who had their hand in your pocket.
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“What are you doing?” A husky voice caught her attention, Fairiel’s wrist being grabbed. A slight twist back landed her arm on the table with a thud, tavern-goers barely looking up and continuing the loud clamor of the Prancing Pony.
“I was simply removing a spider from your side, sir.” She retorted, grunting slightly at the uncomfortable angle of her arm.
“A spider in my pocket?” One could almost hear the eyebrow perk even with his face obscured by the hood.
“Why else would my hand be in your pocket?” With a wiggle, she slipped from his grasp. If it was her skill or him simply letting her go, even she wasn’t sure.
“But of course.” He slightly leans forward, gray-blue eyes catching in the firelight, “But if you wish to more swiftly remove spiders from pockets, I would say fumble a bit less.” At that, he leaned back against the wall. Fairiel stood up, turning to walk back into the crowd to disappear forever. But those eyes, that voice...It stuck out to her, it gnawed at something inside her. And why didn’t he react more harshly? They both knew she was lying, it was clear in his almost playful tone, how he restrained his strength. She turns back to face him, adjusting the crimson braid over her shoulder, and pulls up a chair to sit across from him.
“Who are you?” She tilts her chin up briefly, perking an eyebrow as she crosses her arms on the table.
“I am no one of concern, just a Strider.” He lights up his pipe again, giving her a chance to see that scruff more clearly.
“How interesting, as am I. But I am just a Scout.” A more playful smile paints her lips, her striking gaze never leaving him.
“You aren’t going to be leaving me alone, are you?” He sighs, another intake of his pipeweed.
“Not unless you make me.” It was friendly, but a challenge did hide in her tone. This gets a chuckle, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.
This night led to a friendship for nearly under a year as she stayed in Bree, Strider including her on a few guiding jobs in a silent attempt to stop her from stealing. If it was out of a code or care, she couldn’t tell. But she stayed out of curiosity and loneliness, finding that she felt almost at home with the man. It was strange, but she never voiced this feeling, keeping it a secret even from herself.
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She kept her steps careful as she followed behind Strider, the two skulking through the woods. He wanted to check the perimeter, staying within the Prancing Pony was clearly driving Strider crazy. He holds up a hand for Fairiel to halt, causing the young woman to freeze. Instinctively, she strains her ears almost to focus on the sounds around them. Wind within the leaves, the sound of a squirrel cracking a nut wasn’t that far off. Her eyes narrow in thought, trying to figure out what he stopped for. But she got her answer from Strider throwing her into a hovel, holding himself over her as if shielding with his body. The sound of metal, of hooves and whispers soon fill the path. She could feel a drip of cold shiver down her spine as the rider slowly trots past their hiding spot, Strider looking to her and holding a finger to his lips. Their eyes lock, Fairiel almost feeling as if time stopped, the world fading out as they look at each other. And it was quickly over, Strider pulling himself off of her and helping her back to her feet.
“What was that?” She sighs, smoothing out the front of her vest.
“A Black Rider. They’re searching for something else, but best we don’t cross their path again.” Strider huffs, turning in his path to return to Bree.
“Good catch then. Maybe we shouldn’t stray so far from town then.”
“Yes, I hadn’t realized how far we walked.” He chuckles, looking at her as he walks more casually.
“Perhaps you were too wrapped up in daydreams and such.” She teases.
“I have a sharp focus, not even daydreams will distract me.”
“And what held your focus then?”
“That is none of your concern.” He shakes his head with a smaller smile.
She could always feel something troubling him, his eyes felt weathered, body seeing much more than is shown. But he would never tell her, probably because she avoided talking about her past as well. And yet the two could still sit together with a drink and laugh about small stories that don’t let anything on. Like his story about an elusive elk that he was hunting, the beast trashed his camp three times in retaliation. Fairiel would tell her own story about how she was challenged to an archery contest, the caveat was that she had to be riding a horse. Something that she had never done at that point. That story got him to laugh plenty, even spilling some of his ale onto himself. Even with how little they knew of each other, they felt connected, it was comfortable to be together.
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It was a lazy day as it was raining, heavily. They were getting into the Fall and Winter months, meaning wet and cold was becoming the norm for the area. Didn't mean that Fairiel had to enjoy it. So she pouted by the window, huddled up close to the fire. Her wet hair stuck to her fair, soaked cloak on a chair beside the fire. She had to do some errands, which just means she did a hunting job for an old lady who needed food, and so she spent earlier in the day outside and in the rain. And Fairiel hated it.
"You pout like a child who has been denied their toys." A familiar face comments. Fairiel scoffs, turning her head away from the window to look up at Strider, who was also drenched.
"Here to dry off?" She gestures to the roaring fire. The ranger just chuckles, nodding and sitting down beside them. She looks back to the window with a sigh, seeming to only make Strider laugh even more. "What? What is so funny about me?" She looks back, emerald gaze shifting to a glare.
"Just how you're behaving. The only word I can think of is adorable." He grins, it only brightening his face. He reaches over, picking off a wet leaf in her hair.
"I had to hide in a bush earlier while hunt." Fairiel clarifies. "Also I am not adorable." Tone grumpy. He just chuckles again and shakes his head. He adjusts his chair to stay by the fire but have his back to the wall and watching close to the door. She understood why he always sat like this. It guaranteed protection of himself and an chance at more quickly reacting to threats. She would sit like that from time to time, only when she felt especially paranoid.
Fairiel squeezes some water out of her braid, shaking it away from the crowd. She glances back to Strider, biting her bottom lip in thought.
"Why are you in Bree, exactly?" She finally asked. She's been wondering it ever since she met him, but only now felt the courage to ask.
"I'm waiting for a friend." Strider looks down, taking out a whet stone and one of daggers, getting to work sharpening it.
"I take it that I won't get context beyond that?" She teases with a playful tone.
"I'm sure you will get more context another time." He glances up. She could see a hint of a smirk, feeling heat flush her freckled cheeks. She looks away for a moment, sighing softly in exhaustion. And the two would sit in comfortable silence, not really needing to speak to each other. Oddly, it made Fairiel feel closer to Strider. And this became a regular thing for the two. When not doing jobs, they would have dinner together, talk about history and what they did that day. And if they didn't talk, they simply sat with each other. It brought the two much closer somehow, Strider including her on his excursions out of the town. She started to learn that he was patrolling around the area, keeping watch for something. He hasn't yet told her what he has been watching for. They would both let their guards down with each other, bit by bit. But the walls would return when four hobbits arrived at the Prancing Pony.
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"Scout, I need your help with something." A hand grabbed Fairiel's shoulder, drawing her attention away from her pint. She knew to expect Strider behind her, but not the four Hobbits nervously hiding behind him. She perks an eyebrow, looking from them to him.
"What are you planning, Strider?" She more fully turns to face them. He tugs her on her feet.
"Come on." He grunts, dragging her after him up the stairs. She squirms and kicks, trying to slip from his grasp only for him to let her go as soon as they stood in the small inn room.
"What? What is it?" She sighs, trying not to overly startle the poor hobbits, the big-eyed one looking as if she spoke too loudly his heart would give out.
"You know good hiding spots. I need one that has a vantage point of this room." He starts stuffing the small beds with pillows. Fairiel nods, making her way to the window and peeking out.
"You're not going to explain what's going on?" She calls back to Strider.
"Well ya see, Frodo here got a--" One of the Hobbits starts.
"Pippin!" He is immediately cut off by a smack from the stockier blonde hobbit. Fairiel looks back at them, perking an eyebrow before sighing and looking back to the window.
"Ah! There, that house will be good." She points to said house. By now, Strider had finished stuffing the beds.
"Come on now. You too Scout." He starts ushering the Hobbits out.
"Oh now you wish to include me." She teases, following them out the inn.
"I wish to keep you safe." He retorts. Fariel just playfully scoffs, leading them to the house she found to be ideal.
Soon, they were sitting by the window as the hobbits slept in the large bed.
"So are you going to tell me what's going on?" She asks in a hushed voice.
"It is regarding what my friend Gandalf was looking into. These hobbits are being hunted by--" He gets caught off by a horrible shriek coming from the inn, Fairiel nearly jumping out of her chair. The hobbits wake up immediately, looking to the window in fear.
"What are they?" The more timid hobbit asks after the air settles.
"They were once men, great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness and now they are slaves to his will." Strider explains. He pauses, watching the cloaked figures screech and run out of town on their horses. He looks back to the nervous hobbits. "They are the Nazgûl, ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you." His tone grim as he looks back to the window. Fairiel frowns, watching the window.
"Try to get some rest. We're leaving in the morning." He nods to the hobbits. At that, Fairiel stands. "Where are you going?" His brow furrows.
"I'm going to pack for the journey and also get some rest." She states rather than asks. Strider opens and closes his mouth in protest, but she was already out the door.
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Fairiel knew a bit of tracking, she was much better after studying with Strider. But curses, was that man near impossible to track. The only thing that helped her just a bit was following the wraiths who were on his tail, and the occasional scraps the hobbits left behind. Her mother always said her curious mind would get her in trouble one of these days, but wraiths and hobbits were not something she expected. Now, a sensible person would have stayed back and not chase after their friend who was being hunted down. But for once, Fairiel was going to be very unsensible and go after Strider. He was capable, but something, like whatever he was doing, couldn’t be done alone. She caught a little bit of it when she helped him hide the hobbits, something about a ring and seeking Gandalf, she will have to question that connection later. Strider seemed to not want to bring her along. Bold of someone she managed to best in combat several times.
So here she was, going through the woods, following trampled brush as she kept a safe distance from those monsters. She hunkered down in the brush, ready to make camp for the night when she caught sight of a fire up on what she recognized as Weathertop. This wasn’t good. If she could see that, the wraith could see it. She gathered her things, knowing rest was not a thing tonight. She rushed through the marsh towards the top, hoping to give some help. But with the shouting and shrieking that echoed through the night, she knew she was too late. She could only move so fast in comparison to Strider even with four hobbits, seeing them rush off into the night. Fairiel did not pause, avoiding the rush of the Nazgûl but hindering their movements by throwing false leads by calls and snapping of branches. She was just successful enough catch up at the Trollshawl, seeing Strider send off a beautiful elven woman with...was that one Frodo?
Fairiel rushes through the bushes, not the best decision as Strider very quickly had her pinned down with a blade to her throat. “Friend! Friend! It’s me! Scout!” She cries out, eyes wide as she looks up at him.
“What are you doing here?” He hisses out, very much not lifting his blade just yet.
“To provide help! Get off of me already.” She says too loudly, partially with the hope to drown out the pounding in her chest. This got him to pull back, offering a hand to help her up.
“You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous.” He sighs as she stumbles forward, nose briefly bouncing off his chest.
“I could say the same to you. Without me, those ringwraiths would have been on you much sooner.” Fairiel says very pointedly, smoothing out her front.
“Um..Strider...Scout...Shouldn’t we go after that pretty elf and Frodo?” One of the hobbits speaks up. His name was...Samwise as Fairiel remembers.
“Yes, you’re right. Come on now.” He picks up Pippin by the scruff to pull him to his feet. The young woman briefly stands there, blinking a bit before Strider turns to her. “That includes you too. You’re right, more help would be wise.” He sighs. She couldn’t help but smile at this, proud that she was very much right.
The group quickly make their way through the woods, following Arwen, as she learned, and Frodo. Fairiel readies her shortbow, knowing that with such urgency, a fight would be bound to happen. And a fight she got. Many of the wraiths were washed away by the sudden flood, her and Strider having to beat back the remaining into the flood itself through arrows. It was exhausting, not helped by not getting any rest, but they had to get Frodo to Rivendell quickly.