Miril was up in the morning and set out the food for the others.  She had been on watch last and decided to give them another ten minutes before waking them up.  Slowly but surely, the others came to.  Elladan was the first one to wake up, having smelled the rabbit that was smoking over a small fire.  He smiled and helped Miril get out the rest of the fruit that was to round out their small meal.  Aragorn was next, and he tapped Elrohir awake.  The half-elf twin jumped awake, unsure of who was tapping on him.

Miril laughed, “Are you scared, Elrohir?”

“Nay!  Of course not,” Elrohir puffed out his chest.

Elladan chuckled, “It is okay, brother.  You can be scared.”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“No.  Of course not,” Elladan smirked.

Elrohir grumbled something inaudible as they each took their plates from Miril and ate their meal quickly as she put out the fire.  They cleaned their plates in the grass before packing them back into the saddle bags.  Mounting up, the four of them began their trek to Weathertop.  They planned to sleep there that night, then reach Bree by the next day.  They guess that Barliman Butterbur probably wouldn’t want them inside the Prancing Pony, but it was worth a shot.  If that didn’t work out, they would pitch their camp outside the city walls in the woods.  Then Aragorn would send word to Halbarad via the rangers that guarded the Shire.  He would send word that the servants of the enemy were amassing and that everyone need be on their guard.  They would say nothing of the ring, except to Halbarad himself it they met up with him.

The ride to Weathertop went without a hitch and they reached the monument late that night.  Climbing up into that fateful dell, they gathered dry wood and stashed it in a corner.  Miril got out her knife and carved into the stones the letters ML.  Miril Lôminzil. 

“Now I shall never be forgotten, even when I have passed,” she smiled.

The crickets were singing and the wind brushing through the rock face up against her own skin.  It caught her smile and caused a chill to go down her back.  It was indeed December, and it got no warmer the more West they went.  Indeed only going South would help that!  But alas, that was not to be their fate.  At least not for Miril, as she currently saw her plan.

For indeed the reason Elladan and Elrohir had been sent with Miril and Aragorn was so that while the rangers got in touch with their fellow Dunedain, the elves could contact groups like Gildor Inglorian’s refugees.  But after that, they would ride back to Rivendell and up into the northern High Pass above Rivendell.  From there they would ride south towards Lothlorien.  Meanwhile Aragorn and Halbarad would search down the Greenway all the way to Tharbad.

“You shall never be forgotten, Miril, even if you name is not on the rocks,” Elrohir said sincerely.

Elladan attempted to hide a smirk.  Only Aragorn caught it and he too hid a smile, much more effectively than his elf friend.  Soon they fell asleep, using rocks and their saddle bags as pillows and their cloaks as blankets.  For it was much colder up on Weathertop, even in the dell, than in a forest where they were more shielded from the wind.

In the morning they again ate a quick breakfast before walking their horses down the slope of Weathertop and hopping back on the East Road.  The land slowly changed, growing greener and flatter as they went along until at last, that evening, the town of Bree was in sight.

“Let me handle this,” Aragorn insisted, dismounting from his horse and going up to the gate keeper.  It was a new man, no longer Harry.

“Four travelers, looking for a place to stay the night,” he told the gatekeeper, “Also with four horses, and willing to pay to stable them.”

The gatekeeper undid the latch and opened the gate for them.  He looked in awe upon the twin elven brothers, for despite their classification as “half-elf” they were indeed very elvish with only a little blood of man.  As such they tended to “glow” or appear more regal than someone like Miril who was more 50-50 elf-man. 

The four travelers walked their horses to the Prancing Pony and Aragorn went inside, leaving his steed with the other three.

“Barliman,” he said to the fat but jolly man, “I am in need to two rooms.”

“AH!  You again!”

“Yes, we are on urgent business for Gandalf,” Aragorn nodded.

“Gandalf,” Barliman said in a hushed cry, “Very well, very well.  Nob, go stable Strider’s horse and the horse of whoever else is with him.  Send the other in!”

“It’s three others, actually,” Aragorn corrected him, “But we only need two rooms, two beds each.”

Soon enough Miril, Elladan, and Elrohir stepped inside.  Nob had taken the horses and put them in the stable.  Barliman Butterbur looked genuinely surprised, and for good reason.  He hadn’t seen elves here in many a long year.  In fact, he could only remember one time, and that was when he had been but a child and his father had run the Inn.  He couldn’t take his eyes off the faces of the twins.

“Here, let me show ye to your rooms,” he said finally, turning away and walking them down a corridor, “One set of you can sleep in here, the other across the way.”

Aragorn and Miril ducked inside the one on the right and threw their stuff on their respective beds.  Elladan and Elrohir did the same in their rooms.  Before long, the twins came over to the Rangers’ room and the four of them decided to visit the tavern half of the inn.

It was busy in the room, busy enough that few patrons noticed when three half-elves and a Dunedain ranger walked inside and sat down at a table in the corner.  But Butterbur quickly came over and they ordered drinks.

“And so, then Master Underhill just DISAPPEARED!”

Miril and Aragorn looked up at that, letting themselves find the source of the conversation.  It was a small hobbit, from Bree by the accent, who was standing on a table and telling a bunch of other hobbits the tale.  There was little doubt in the four-man company’s mind that this was a commonly told story now that the whole affair had blown over.  Nevertheless, Aragorn did his best to remain inconspicuous in case one of the Breelanders recognized him.