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A Single Step, A Thousand Miles

Summary:

Komaria is a young Ranger apprentice approaching the end of her training. Her master, Amdir, has taught her well, and soon she will join her brothers and sisters as a Ranger of the North, standing guard over the lands of Eriador. When the Black Riders appear in Bree-land, seeking a Hobbit named "Baggins," Komaria's training--as well as her spirit--are tested in ways she never imagined. After suffering a tragic loss, Komaria is soon faced with a choice: to take up the post she was trained for, or to go above and beyond her duty to join the great war against the Enemy.

Notes:

I had this idea about a year or so ago, and I've finally got something coherent enough to start posting it. I have no idea how frequent my updates will be, but I will update when I can. Just a quick warning for those not quite as familiar with the plot of the game: the first few chapters are going to hurt. A lot. There will be a lot of angst. I will do my best to include relevant warnings for the chapters that need them. If I miss anything, feel free to let me know, and I will add it to the tags as well as the notes.

Chapter 1: Jailbreak

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Komaria crept cautiously along the forest floor, taking care to avoid the dry twigs that would crack under her feet. A larger grey-clad shape slipped through the shadows in front of her, moving almost as silent as a whisper, despite his height and broad shoulders. Komaria felt a slight prick of envy. Of all the skills of her trade, the ability to pass soundlessly through the land was the one that still eluded her mastery. True, she was still an apprentice, but her apprenticeship would soon be at an end. If she could not conquer this, she would be forced to pursue another trade.

Her master stopped, holding up his hand silently. She halted as well, taking up her position behind and slightly to the right of him. He settled onto his haunches, his grey eyes staring intently through the leaves at the encampment at the base of the hill.

Komaria went over the plan again in her mind. Aragorn would enter the camp and create a diversion. Once the Blackwolds were roused by the commotion, she and Amdir would approach from the other side, locate the two captive Hobbits, free them, and ensure that Aragorn had a safe pathway back out to the forest. Neither she nor Amdir liked the idea of their chieftain placing himself in such danger, but of the three of them, he was far and away the best fighter. He stood the best chance of coming out alive after attracting the attention of the Blackwolds.

“Stay close to me,” Amdir whispered. “Watch my back, but remember the Hobbits come first. Understand?”

Komaria gave a sharp nod. “Yes, master,” she breathed. Her hand strayed to her sword hilt, curling her fist about the pommel. Komaria would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. She had seen combat before, but this felt different. Perhaps it was the number of brigands, or perhaps it was because her chieftain was here and would doubtless be appraising her abilities.

No, that was not it. Something was wrong. A feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach, and with every passing minute it spread through her body, its icy hands clawing up her spine to her heart.

“Dúath hi,” Komaria hissed. Amdir turned his head slightly to look at her. She met his gaze, her jaw set. She was still poised to continue the mission, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

“I feel it too,” he replied. “Steel your nerves, but be wary.” He reached back and laid a comforting hand on her arm. Komaria felt her taut muscles relax under his touch. If her master was calm, then she would be, as well. He was right. She could not allow fear to rule her.

At that moment, a great clamor and commotion was heard from the brigands’ camp. That was their cue. Like soft grey shadows, they slipped down the hill toward the closest wall.

Slipping in and locating the Hobbits was easy enough. Mundo was...well. If you can’t say something nice. Celandine, on the other hand, was quick-witted and resourceful. It was she who suggested lighting some of the nearby buildings on fire, which Amdir and Komaria readily agreed to. If the brigands were busy trying to extinguish the flames, Aragorn would be able to escape easily.

As they were sneaking back out, they realized there was a problem: the Hobbits could not scale the outer wall as the Rangers had. They were forced to backtrack and circle through a courtyard at the center of the encampment. Hopefully, they could meet up with Aragorn on the other side.

As they passed through the gate into the courtyard, Amdir and Komaria suddenly halted in their tracks. A chill hand of fear suddenly wrapped around her heart and squeezed.

“Run!” Amdir shouted. The Hobbits needed no further urging. Komaria turned to go after them, but the sensation of fear abruptly bloomed into complete panic. Her feet felt turned to lead, and she stumbled to a halt, hyperventilating.

Two strong hands shoved her from behind, and Komaria barely managed to catch herself from landing flat on her face as she flew back through the gate. As she picked herself up off the ground, she heard a loud clang. Komaria whirled her head around and stared in horror at the sight before her eyes: Amdir, alone, on the wrong side of the gate...with a Black Rider on an enormous horse approaching him.

“Master!” Komaria cried, scrambling to her feet.

Amdir drew his sword, turning to face his foe with a snarl. “Back! Go back to the Shadow, fallen king!” he said, brandishing his blade.

The Rider gave an awful screeching hiss. “You have no power over me! ...But soon, I shall have power over you!” His horse bore down on Amdir as the Rider’s blade flashed in the firelight. Amdir fell to one knee with a strangled cry.

“Amdir!” Celandine called, stretching one hand through the bars. Komaria was staring in open-mouthed shock. She knew she should be helping the Hobbits to escape, but she couldn’t leave her master behind! Just then, the Rider turned its hidden gaze upon them, and Komaria found she couldn’t move even if she wished it. She was rooted to the spot, and she felt as if her flesh was peeled away to expose her soul to the foul creature before her.

“Ah, the halflingsssss,” it said in a horrid hiss. “Which is the ‘Baggins’ promised me?”

Mundo trembled beside her. “Misery me!” he moaned.

As the Rider approached, the flames flared up between them, cutting it off. “Accursed flames!” it screeched. “Hsss...this Dúnadan will suffice for now. May you all burn, little fools.” It turned back to Amdir.

At that moment, Aragorn burst through the other gate, wielding his sword in one hand and a torch in the other. “Begone, foul spawn!” he commanded, his voice filled with righteous fury. “You shall not harm these folk!”

The wraith screeched again as its horse reared in fright. “Cursed Dúnadan—this is not the Baggins I seek! But I will return for YOU!” It wheeled its horse about and sped away into the blackness.

“I will have my revenge, wraith!” Aragorn called, shaking his fist.

Komaria now threw herself at the gate, flinging it open and sprinting to Amdir. The Hobbits followed close behind as she fell to her knees beside her master. Already, Aragorn had knelt to examine the wound.

Amdir was trembling as if with a deep chill, and his skin already looked deathly pale...yet there was barely any blood to be seen.

“Good,” he whispered. “The Hobbits are...are out of danger…”

“Be still,” Aragorn scolded softly.

Komaria took Amdir’s hand. It was as cold as ice. “Amdir, I’m so sorry,” she said, fighting back the tears. “I froze, and it is because of me that you were hurt.”

Amdir shook his head. “Hush, child,” he breathed. “Do not...concern yourself with me. The greatest danger...has passed. The Nazgûl fear those who...wield fire…” His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost the battle with consciousness and collapsed against Aragorn’s chest.

“Strider, what is wrong with him?” Komaria cried in distress.

Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line. “He has been pierced with a morgul-blade. This does not bode well. We need to leave, now. Archet is nearby and will serve as a good resting place while Amdir recovers. Quickly, follow me!”

Komaria ushered the Hobbits out of the encampment toward the forest. All the while, she kept glancing back over her shoulder at her chieftain...and the deathly pale body of her master slung across his back.

Notes:

Dúath hi: There is evil here.

Chapter 2: Strider's Charge

Chapter Text

Komaria awoke and looked around blearily. At first, she did not know where she was. It was obviously an inn of some sort. Not the Pony—the room was much smaller, and the furnishings slightly poorer.

As she rubbed her eyes sleepily, the memory of the previous night came flooding back into her mind. Quickly, she threw back the coverlet and began tugging on her boots. After donning her cloak, Komaria exited the room. When she went downstairs, she quickly located the innkeeper to inquire the whereabouts of Aragorn and her master.

Her queries directed her outside, where she found Amdir leaning against a wall in the sun. Aragorn was kneeling beside him, his brow tense and furrowed with worry. Amdir’s face was pale and drawn with pain, and his hand clutched at his left shoulder weakly.

Suddenly, Celandine trotted up to her. “You are awake, Komaria! Thank goodness!” Komaria couldn’t help but smile at her buoyant personality—it was wonderfully refreshing. “You were so exhausted after last night. But we made it safely to Archet, in the end! Thanks to Strider.”

Celandine’s smile faltered as she glanced over toward the two men. “I am terribly worried for Amdir, however. He looks so very ill. I would check on him myself, but...I fear it is not my place. And after he was hurt rescuing us and all, it just wouldn’t feel right. But please, do tell me how he is after you’ve spoken with him!”

“I will do that, Celandine. And I thank you for your concern,” Komaria replied graciously.

Komaria took a deep breath and approached the other two Rangers. They both looked up as she drew near, and Amdir gave her a weak smile.

“So you are awake at last, Komaria?” he said softly. His voice was clearly meant to be teasing, but the effort he had to put forth simply to speak was like a knife to her gut.

Komaria knelt, tears welling up in her eyes. “Forgive me, master. I should have been helping to tend you, and instead I slept the night and most of the morning away.”

Amdir shook his head. “You earned your rest, for you fought bravely last night.” His eyes shone as he smiled at her again. “I am proud of you, Komaria.” After a moment, his face darkened with a frown. “As for myself, I found no peace in slumber.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Is your wound worse?”

“The blade of the Black Rider pierced my shoulder, though not deeply. But do not trouble yourself on my account—it is only a chill.” Komaria waited for an answer to her first question, but none was forthcoming.

Instead, Amdir glanced at Aragorn, who had stepped away to give them a private moment. “It is Strider for whom I fear! He is charged with a great task, but he tarries for my sake, and for Archet’s.”

For a moment, a very selfish part of Komaria wanted to urge Aragorn to forget this tiny town, take Amdir somewhere safe where she could tend him, and go take care of his own task. She banished the thought in the next instant—it went against everything the Rangers stood for. Much as Komaria desired to put her master first, she knew her duty lay here, with Archet.

“I will speak with him,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on Amdir’s...and trying her best to ignore how cold his skin was. And how badly he was trembling.

Komaria stood and approached Aragorn, biting her lip nervously. She had only spoken with him a handful of times, and never on her own. He was not a particularly imposing figure in and of himself, but the knowledge of his name and lineage made the prospect of addressing him somewhat intimidating.

She cleared her throat softly. “Strider?”

He turned to her and gave her a weary smile. “Komaria. I am glad to see you well-rested. You fought well last night; Amdir should be proud.” The praise made her cheeks burn slightly.

“Thank you, Captain,” she replied. After a moment, she continued, “Amdir said that your mind was divided, that you did not know which course to choose.”

Aragorn heaved a sigh. “He is right--I am torn asunder!” He passed a hand over his brow, looking tense and exhausted. “I do not wish to leave him in this state, and Archet must be warned that the Blackwolds are no longer the senseless riffraff they were in the past. They mean to launch a full raid on the town. But I should be seeking a different Baggins right now!”

Komaria felt helpless. She did not know the details of the mission that Aragorn deemed so vital, but it was obviously important for him to even be considering the idea of leaving Amdir behind. “I am sorry, Captain,” she said after a moment, “but I do not have any answers. I wish I could do something to help you.”

Aragorn suddenly turned to face her, giving her a long and scrutinizing look. “...Perhaps you can help, Komaria.”

She blinked in confusion. “Come again?”

“The people of Archet will be in great danger when the Blackwolds execute the plan we witnessed last night. The Captain here, a man named Brackenbrook, does not like my look, and will not heed my warnings,” Aragorn explained. At his words, a hazy memory from the previous night returned to Komaria’s mind. Half-dazed with exhaustion, she had paid little attention to their arrival to Archet, but she did remember the small party being greeted by a sour-faced man who clearly held some authority.

“Yes, I remember him now,” Komaria replied, “but I am afraid I still do not see how I can help matters.”

Aragorn smiled. “I would ask you to speak to him on my behalf and see if you can rouse him!” His face clouded over as he turned his thoughts to darker matters. “Every moment I spend here is a moment in which my true charge plunges blindly nearer to unfathomable peril! The Black Rider we saw last night seeks a Baggins, and our friend Mundo is not the one.”

Komaria was floored by this request. To be given such a task when she had not yet earned her star, and by the Lord Aragorn himself! Many young Ranger apprentices only dreamed of such a thing. And yet, she could not help but be hesitant. After all, if Brackenbrook would not trust her chieftain simply because of his looks, what chance did she have?

Aragorn seemed to sense her reluctance. “You do not have quite the...rascally looks that I do,” he said with a wry smile. “You are young, and since you do not yet bear all the trappings of a Ranger, you are thus more trustworthy than I, in Brackenbrook’s mind, at least.”

She considered his words and admitted that he did have a point. “Very well,” she said, removing her cloak. “I will speak with Captain Brackenbrook. Hopefully, I can convince him of the danger his people are in.”

Aragorn clasped her shoulder gratefully. “My thanks, Komaria. I am worried for Amdir and worried for Archet, but I must find the real Mr. Baggins before the Black Riders do. Brackenbrook is a fool to risk the doom of his people on his dislike for my looks. If you can convince him of the threat, I will be able to leave this town under the protection of Brackenbrook and yourself.”

Komaria offered Aragorn her cloak. “Here. Amdir will need the extra warmth, and Brackenbrook will be less mistrustful if I am not cloaked as you and he are.”

He accepted it with a nod. “It is not our way to be deceitful, but it may be best if Captain Brackenbrook does not know you are a Ranger. Your apprenticeship is not ended yet, so it is not entirely untrue.”

Komaria frowned at the order, but she knew that Aragorn was right. It would be difficult enough to convince Captain Brackenbrook of the truth simply due to her association with Aragorn and Amdir. If he knew she was a Ranger herself, she wouldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Chapter 3: Captain Brackenbrook

Chapter Text

Finding the captain was easy enough. He was standing outside the jail a few buildings down from the inn, on the other side of the street. His flinty eyes were scowling in the direction of the two Rangers huddled together beside the inn as Komaria approached. She cleared her throat and dipped her head respectfully when he turned his attention to her.

“Captain Brackenbrook,” she said. “My name is Komaria. I wanted to thank you for allowing us to take shelter in your town.”

He let out a disgruntled huff. “Did you wander in last night with those Rangers? I do not like the look of those fellows one bit, but I let them stay on account of the pale one’s wounds.” At the mention of Amdir, his eyes seemed to soften, if only slightly.

So, he acts out of genuine compassion, Komaria mused. He does not permit us to stay merely to avoid being seen turning away a wounded man. For all his distrust of Rangers, he does not wish to see Amdir get worse.

“I bring thanks, but I also bring a warning,” Komaria explained. “While rescuing Celandine and Mundo, the Rangers and I learned that the Blackwolds are planning to raid Archet. They have numbers far greater than we realized, and we barely escaped with our lives. If the town’s defenses are not prepared, you and the citizens will be devastated. But if you strike first, they will be caught without warning, and Archet’s people will be safe. I beg you, Captain, muster what forces you have to attack their camp.”

Brackenbrook was silent for a long moment. At first, Komaria dared to hope that he believed her. However, her hopes were quickly dashed.

“You say the Blackwolds mean to attack us, but I do not believe it, not without proof,” he finally said, his gaze hardening once more. “Those brigands have always been about--they are an unruly lot, but not murderous.”

“Please, you do not--”

He cut her off with a raised hand. “I’ll be attacking them without good reason. That said, I would indeed be a fool to dismiss you out of hand. If you must, talk to folks around town and get their opinions. If they are on your side, I’ll consider the Rangers’ warning.”

Komaria could hear the veiled implication behind his words. The people of Archet would never trust a stranger over their beloved captain, certainly not a stranger who had wandered into town with a pair of disreputable Rangers. Still, she had been given an order, directly from her chieftain’s mouth, and Komaria was determined to see it through.

After thanking the captain for his time, Komaria set off down the main road toward the small marketplace at the center of the village. Though less than half the size of the market in Bree, it was still a hive of activity this late in the morning. Komaria approached the stalls with a buyer’s eye, ignoring the pitiful amount of silver in her purse.

At first, the townspeople were suspicious of this stranger in their midst. However, after making a small purchase of fruits (hoping they would cheer Amdir a little and help him feel better) and engaging in small talk with a few curious locals, they seemed to decide Komaria was not a bad sort after all. Once she noticed they’d relaxed, Komaria began searching for someone who not only seemed like they may give her warning at least some consideration, but also someone whose opinion might hold a bit of weight in Archet. Her search led her to the busiest stall in the market: a table specializing in various supplies for craftsmen. The proprietor was a matronly-looking woman with dark brown hair frosted with grey, brown almond-shaped eyes, and a kind, heart-shaped face.

She introduced herself as Kate Henseed, and Komaria quickly discovered her assessment had been correct: numerous villagers came to her for advice regarding their various trades and professions, from the old and grey to the young and green. Kate answered their questions about materials and techniques, and they accepted her responses quite seriously.

After speaking with Kate for a few minutes, Komaria delicately brought up the matter of the Blackwolds. Kate expressed curiosity about the events of the previous evening, which Komaria related in as much detail as she felt appropriate (meaning she decided to omit the appearance of the Black Rider). Komaria relayed her warning with hope, but her spirits fell when Kate asked Captain Brackenbrook’s opinion.

Kate considered her words for a moment before responding. “If Captain Brackenbrook says we’re safe, then we’re safe,” she said at length. “He’s always done a fine job at protecting our village! Besides, those ruffians have been here for years. Why would the Blackwold wanderers suddenly attack us now?”

Komaria had to admit she had a point. Going out of their way to capture defenseless Hobbits was strange enough, but the Black Rider had obviously enlisted their help. Attacking Archet, however, was another conundrum entirely. The village was small, and it wasn’t in a strategic location. There was no reason for the Riders to have any interest in it. However, from what she knew of the Blackwolds, Komaria guessed they wouldn’t launch a full-scale attack on Archet unless they had some sort of guarantee of success.

But she would have to piece together this particular puzzle later. For now, she still had work to do. She thanked Kate for listening and for her consideration before moving on to find someone else who might heed her warning.

In another part of the market, Komaria located an apothecary by the name of Peg Pruner. Her husband, Ned, was the jailor, and she supplied the remedies and potions for the entire town. Komaria eagerly approached her and purchased a salve that she hoped would ease Amdir’s shoulder (though she knew in the back of her mind that such a hope was futile). After speaking with Peg for a short time about Amdir and his injuries, Komaria expressed concern about the Blackwolds and the town’s safety. Like Kate, however, Peg wanted to know if Komaria had yet spoken to Captain Brackenbrook on the matter, and what he thought about it if she had. Reluctantly, she informed Peg what the captain had said.

Peg shook her head. “I’m sorry for what happened to your friend, and I sincerely hope it wasn’t the Blackwolds that did it. As for the town’s safety, Captain Brackenbrook has always done a fine job of protecting us since he took charge, and I trust him. I won’t argue with his judgement, but I will do whatever I can to help the injured man.”

Well, it was better than nothing, but still not nearly good enough. Komaria thanked Peg nonetheless and began making her way back to the Mad Badger with her purchases. All the while, she was trying to think of some other figure of authority or influence in this town she could speak with that might believe her warning. On her way back to the inn, Komaria caught sight of a man in a guard’s livery standing at the corner, keeping watch on the street. Curious, she walked over to him and began to speak to him.

He introduced himself as Constable Thistlewool, one of Brackenbrook’s lieutenants. In desperation, Komaria relayed her warning to Thistlewool, hoping he would see the sense of her warning and convince his captain.

Constable Thistlewool only threw his head back and laughed at her. “Don’t be ridiculous!” he guffawed. “The Blackwolds, attack Archet? They have no love for us, to be sure, but they spend more time fighting themselves than anything else. Besides, they haven’t a leader. I doubt if the Blackwolds could raid a squirrel’s nest, let alone our town!”

Komaria stomped away in frustration, cursing simple townsfolk and their folly under her breath. Aragorn looked up with a raised brow as she approached, having resumed his kneeling position beside Amdir. Komaria threw herself down with a huff, setting her bag beside her.
“A pox on simpleminded townsfolk,” she growled. “Their foolishness will be their deaths, and they don’t have the wit to see it!”

Aragorn sighed, giving her a sympathetic look. “Alas for peaceful folk everywhere. It is an enormous task to convince them that evil people with evil intentions will commit evil deeds.”
Komaria jerked her chin at Amdir, who appeared to have finally drifted into a fitful sleep. “How is he?”

The grimace Aragorn made was not encouraging. “A shadow has crept over him even as we sat here.” He took Amdir’s hand in his own, taking a cloth and patting the sweat from Amdir’s brow. “My poor old friend…” Aragorn glanced at Komaria again. “The Rider that did this is more fell than anything you have met before, or will meet again.”

Komaria brought out the salve that she had purchased from Peg and offered it to Aragorn. “It isn’t much, but it may provide some relief from the pain,” she said hopefully. Aragorn took it with a small smile, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder gratefully.

“Amdir should count himself lucky to have such a skilled and devoted student,” he said. Komaria couldn’t help but flush a bit at the praise.

“Now, I require your assistance yet again. There is little time for what needs to be done, but if you can accomplish two things at once, it will help greatly. Go to Brackenbrook and ask if he knows if any athelas grows nearby, though he will likely know it by the name kingsfoil,” Aragorn ordered. “While you are at it, offer him your assistance, provided any errand he gives you does not take you too far out of the way. If you show you are willing to provide help, he may be more willing to listen.”

“I understand,” Komaria replied. She tucked her cloak more securely about Amdir’s shoulders, her brow furrowing with worry as she felt how cold he was to the touch. “Aragorn...tell me truly. If we cannot help him...what will happen to him?”

Aragorn was silent for a long moment. Finally, he replied softly, “I fear that if we do not find a means of treating this wound, we will lose Amdir to the Shadow. And he will become that which we have sworn to defeat.”

In a strange way, it was a relief to know exactly what was at stake. On the other hand, the thought of Amdir becoming a servant of evil chilled Komaria to the bone. Death would be preferable, and she knew Amdir would think the same.

She leaned forward and kissed Amdir’s brow. “Be strong, master,” she whispered. “Do not stray from the light. Please.” As Komaria stood and began making her way to Captain Brackenbrook, it was then that she realized that to her, “master” now meant more than just “teacher;” it had become synonymous with “father.”

Chapter 4: Remedy of the Old Kings

Chapter Text

With no small amount of trepidation, Komaria approached Captain Brackenbrook again. Thankfully, though he frowned at her as she drew near, he did not turn her away at once.

“I come now to ask a favor of you, Captain, and to offer one in return,” she said with a respectful dip of her head. “Strider wishes me to ask if you know of any kingsfoil that may be found nearby, and if so, where I might collect some. It has more virtue than many realize, and it may help us to treat Amdir’s wound. In exchange for this information, I wish to offer you my service, such that I may give.”

Captain Brackenbrook contemplated her words for a moment before answering. “Kingsfoil, eh? Yes, I know it. A pretty, leafy plant, but we’ve no use for it. There is a ruined fort a short way south of here, Bronwe’s Folly; the place is covered with kingsfoil,” he said.

Komaria bowed gratefully. “Thank you, Captain Brackenbrook,” she replied sincerely. “I can give thanks on behalf of Strider and Amdir, as well. This means more to us than you know.”

Brackenbrook nodded. “Now, as for your offer of assistance; I shall take you up on it! We’ve no shortage of work around here, only able and willing hands to perform it. Besides, as long as you’re here, you should earn your keep.” He turned and gestured down the road leading out of Archet. “My best man, Calder Cob, keeps watch over the road at a post just outside of town, in front of a pig farm. He’s been having a bit of trouble with wolves recently. While doing your...gardening for the Rangers, offer to lend him a hand.”

“I will,” she answered. “Thank you again, Captain.” Komaria double-checked her weapons before setting off out of town at a trot. As she jogged, she took in the landscape around Archet; it was lovely countryside, simple, yet beautiful in its simplicity.

It wasn’t long before she found the farm Captain Brackenbrook had mentioned. A red-haired man dressed in the same livery as Brackenbrook and Thistlewool stood guard at the entrance, surveying the road with a frown. He turned to face Komaria as she approached, and his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

“Calder Cob, I presume?” At his nod, she continued. “I was sent here by Captain Brackenbrook. I am--”

“I know who you are, rumor-monger,” he interrupted with a sneer. “I’ve already heard all about you from my morning report, Komaria.” Calder Cob gestured out over the landscape. “And as you can see, I have no problems with brigands out here. My chief concern is the wolves. They seem to have claimed Bronwe’s Folly for their den and have gathered there, especially around the top.”

Komaria nearly bit her tongue, so hard did she fight to keep her words in check. “So, Brackenbrook sent you to help me, eh? Good! You can look into the wolf problem for me, and I can remain here at my post.”

“Right,” she said, taking a steadying breath. “I’ll do my best to take care of the wolves. I promise you that.”

“See that you do,” he retorted. As Komaria started heading toward the ruins, he called after her, “It always gets interesting when a stranger comes to town and starts squawking nonsense in everyone’s ears. It don’t always end well for them.” She turned to look over her shoulder, but decided not to dignify his remark with a response. Instead, Komaria simply sped into a trot as she headed for the old fort.

When she reached the foot of Bronwe’s Folly, Komaria set about her work. Athelas was scattered all about the ruins, and there were certainly wolves in plentiful numbers. Her arrows took care of them easily enough, but she couldn’t help a feeling in the back of her mind that something was off about this situation. Komaria knew from experience that wolves tended to favor sheltered places for their dens, places like caves or old buildings with open doors that would provide protection for their pups. Bronwe’s Folly, for all its age and ruin, was sealed, with no easy access to the inside that she could find. And there was no roof to speak of on any of the raised platforms. It made no sense for the wolves to congregate here.

The feeling of suspicion grew in Komaria’s mind as she climbed the fort. It wasn’t just the wolves’ presence that was bothering her; their behavior was off, as well. She should have had half the pack on her after the first few that she felled, but none seemed inclined to attack her. Komaria let the wolves be and ascended to the top. When she crested the final set of stairs, she immediately caught sight of a tattered banner with a strange symbol on it that had been erected in the center of the stones.

As Komaria moved closer to inspect the banner, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. Not the padding of wolf paws--booted feet. Komaria spun around, hand on her sword hilt. A man with scarred leather armor, hard eyes, and a cruel smile was stepping onto the platform.

“Who are you?” she asked, her hand not leaving her blade.

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he drawled. “My friend Cob told me you’d be coming here. He says you’ve been sticking your nose where it don’t belong.” The man drew his own shortsword at that, advancing slowly. “I’d say you’ll be sorry, but I’m afraid you won’t live long enough.” He lunged at her, bringing his blade in a downward arc toward her shoulder.

He was taller than her and clearly heavier; trying to block his blow would be folly. Instead, she waited until just before his blade made contact and slid to the left. As she moved, Komaria drew her sword and swept it across his exposed right side. He stumbled and cried out in pain. Before he could gather himself to attack again, Komaria gripped her blade with both hands and brought it back around toward his neck.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. Komaria cleaned her blade on the fallen man’s cloak before sheathing it and making her way back down the fort, taking care to use a slightly different route than the way she had come up. She had been saved by the man’s arrogance; despite the weapons she carried, he clearly hadn’t expected her to put up much of a fight. Now, however, Komaria had another problem: Calder Cob had tried to have her killed. Unfortunately, she had no proof. She had not had the means to capture the man atop the fort and take him back to town. Besides, there was no guarantee he would have talked.

Faced with few options, and knowing she had to get back to Archet with the athelas as soon as possible, Komaria opted for the direct approach. She headed toward the farm where Calder Cob was stationed. She cut across the fields rather than taking the road, so he wouldn’t see her coming. Komaria didn’t want him coming out to meet her away from prying eyes to try and finish her off. As such, Calder Cob was busy watching the road to the Folly and didn’t see her approach until she stepped onto the road in front of the farm.

His eyes went wide with shock. “I killed a fair number of wolves at the fort,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “They shouldn’t trouble Archet for a while.”

Calder glared at her and said in a low voice, “Impossible! A weakling like you defeated the Wolf-master?” He started to reach for his blade, then swore under his breath, glancing at the man standing at the other gate a few yards away. “If that fool Dirk Mudbrick weren’t here, I’d kill you myself.”

“You sent me into an ambush because I’ve been trying to warn the town about the Blackwolds,” she said. It wasn’t a guess, nor did he bother denying it. “I’m sure Captain Brackenbrook will be most interested in this.”

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Calder Cob laughed quietly. “Tell him whatever you like; the old man thinks I’ve been his loyal servant since I was small.” He leered at her. “It doesn’t matter what you say, girl. Archet will fall, and I will be rewarded handsomely for my part in it. You and your friends had better get as far from here as you can before sundown, unless you wish to die alongside the townsfolk.”

Komaria stared at the man in disbelief. “So you’d betray the lives of everyone in this town...for money.” The idea was unfathomable. Her people were taught at a young age that the life of a Ranger was largely one without thanks or reward from any save their own kind (with a few exceptions). The Dúnedain were content with this, for if no one thanked them for their protection, it meant no one realized there was anything to be protected from.

She could not imagine any of her brothers and sisters betraying them all just for coin, no matter how great the amount.

Not waiting for a reply, Komaria turned on her heel and headed back to the village. As soon as she rounded the curve of the road, she took off at a run. She needed to return to Aragorn with the athelas as well as news of Calder Cob’s treachery.

Aragorn and Amdir were still exactly where she had left them. Amdir still slept, though fitfully; sweat soaked his brow, but he remained icy cold to the touch. As Komaria settled beside them and gave Aragorn the athelas, she related the events that had occurred at the fort, and after.

Aragorn’s eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead as he listened. “Danger has found you even earlier than I predicted!” he exclaimed. “It sounds like Calder Cob was planning this before you even got there.” His brow furrowed as he took a mortar, pestle, and some water out of his pack. “I have been watching the townsfolk since daybreak, and I never saw Brackenbrook send anyone to report to Calder Cob. So how did he know about you, Komaria? Moreover, how did he get word to this Wolf-master so quickly?”

Komaria knew not to answer; she’d spent enough time with Aragorn the past few days to know that he often thought aloud when he was trying to work through something that was puzzling him.

Aragorn spared her a smile. “Thank you for the risk you took to deliver the athelas. While I prepare a salve for Amdir, I will think more on this riddle.”

Komaria shook her head and moved to wipe the sweat from Amdir’s face. “He would do the same for me,” she murmured. They sat in silence for a short time, Aragorn deep in thought, Komaria intent on her master.

Chapter 5: Siege to the South

Chapter Text

Amdir winced and groaned softly as Aragorn applied the athelas salve to his wound, but he showed no signs of waking yet. Komaria did not like the look of the black veins that spiderwebbed out from the edges of the wound. Aragorn’s face was drawn tight with guilt as he treated Amdir. Cautiously, hoping she was not overstepping, Komaria reached out and laid a hand on her chieftain’s shoulder.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Komaria said softly. Aragorn glanced at her briefly, acknowledging that he heard. “Amdir would not wish for you to blame yourself any more than either of you wish it of me. If blame is to be cast, let it fall on the Rider that did this and on the Blackwolds who aligned with him.”

 

Aragorn sighed, his shoulders sagging as though under an enormous weight. “I know that you are right,” he replied, “but in my heart, I feel responsible for all my Rangers. When any of you are hurt as a result of my orders…”

 

Komaria shook her head. “It is the risk we all take, my lord,” she said. “We know what may happen to us when we earn our stars, but we do so in the hopes that others will not have to face the same evil. Is that not why Gandalf asked us to protect the land of the Halflings?”

 

Her captain gave her a small smile. “You are wise beyond your years, young one, and your words do comfort me, if only a little. Thank you.”

 

Komaria glanced over her shoulder at Brackenbrook, still keeping his post in front of the jail. “I wish I could tell him the truth about Calder Cob, but I know he would never take the word of a stranger over that of his best soldier. Certainly not a stranger who associates with Rangers.”

 

Aragorn nodded. “I fear you are right. However, an unlikely opportunity may have presented itself. While you were gone, I discovered there is a Blackwold in the stocks being held for highway robbery. Perhaps he may tell us some useful information about Calder Cob.”

 

Komaria set her jaw, her eyes narrowing. “I will speak with him,” she said. “And he will tell me what I want to know.” She stood and, while Brackenbrook was speaking with one of the townsfolk, slipped into the jail’s courtyard. A jailer stood nearby, but he made no move to stop Komaria as she approached the man in the stocks.

 

The Blackwold looked up as she drew nearer. “Oi! You there! Let me go!” he cried.

 

Komaria tilted her head. “Why should I do that?” she asked. “I don’t know you, and surely you are being held here for a good reason.”

 

The Blackwold sneered at her. “My name’s Otto,” he drawled, “and I’m a friend of Calder Cob, Brackenbrook’s best man. Call him here and he’ll vouch for my innocence. That stupid jailer won’t believe me. Get me out of here, and I’ll see you’re rewarded.”

 

“And what will you do if Calder vouches for you and you are freed?” Komaria asked, stepping closer, her hand resting conspicuously on the hilt of her dagger. “Will you swear to make an honest living from now on? Will you go back to the robbery that landed you here?” She bent nearer, lowering her voice. “Or will you take Cob’s messages back to your leader to help prepare for the attack on Archet tonight?”

 

Otto’s eyes went wide with shock. Komaria smirked at him. “Oh, you didn’t expect me to know about that, did you? But I know Calder Cob is a traitor, and I know the rest of your band means to attack the village tonight.”

 

After a moment of silence, Otto chuckled softly. “Is that all you know? Then you’d best wipe that smug grin off your face, because you have no idea what’s coming. Down south, the gears of war be turning quickly. Soon, our places will be reversed…if you don’t have a worse fate in store, that is.” With that, Otto spat at Komaria’s feet.

 

Komaria stepped back to keep her boots from getting soiled. “You didn’t deny anything I said, so I’ll take it as confirmation that I’m right. Thank you for your cooperation, Otto. It is much appreciated.” She gave him a sarcastic bow before turning on her heel…and coming face to face with the jailer, who had moved to stand behind her.

 

“Who are you?” he asked, his face firm and impassive.

 

After a moment of hesitation, Komaria drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “I am Komaria,” she said. “May I ask your name, sir?”

 

“Ned Pruner,” he replied, offering his hand, which she shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Ned looked over her shoulder at Otto. “I saw you speaking with Otto, and I heard the end of your conversation. I’ve been hearing his mutterings for the last few days, but I never believed any of it was true…until now.”

 

Komaria felt her knees start to shake; she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You…do?”

 

Ned nodded. “I do. I never imagined the Blackwolds would be capable of even attempting a raid on the town, but the evidence does seem to be indicating it.” He shook his head. “I just don’t understand how they have the means to do it.” He turned back to her, his eyes hard. “Take my report to Brackenbrook, along with what you learned,” he ordered. “Tell him that I do believe you, and I think he would be wise to listen to you.”

 

Komaria nearly hugged the man in gratitude. As it was, she shook his hand vigorously and thanked him profusely for several seconds before she left him to go back to Brackenbrook.

 

Captain Brackenbrook, to his credit, did listen to everything Komaria had to say. When she finished, she waited with bated breath for his decision. For several minutes, there was a tense, uncomfortable silence as Brackenbrook pondered her words.

 

At last, he spoke. “Calder Cob has been steadfastly loyal to both this town and myself since he was a child. To claim he is a traitor is very bold…especially for an outsider.” Komaria opened her mouth to protest, but Brackenbrook cut her off with a raised hand. “However! Two things have convinced me that this matter is worth investigating, at the very least.

 

“Firstly, you have demonstrated a remarkable amount of persistence in pursuing this supposed threat. Whether or not you are wrong, your urgency shows me that you at least believe yourself to be right. Secondly, and more importantly, the testimony of Ned Pruner and his prisoner. Ned is a reliable and trustworthy man; if he says there is trouble, then I will at least investigate it.”

 

Captain Brackenbrook leveled a steely gaze at her. “But make no mistake: there will have to be significant evidence for me to question Calder’s loyalty. I will cast no doubt upon him based solely on hearsay.”

 

Komaria nodded acceptance; it was far better than she had hoped for after her previous conversations with him. “If it pleases you, Captain, I will investigate matters myself. If there is proof of what I have said, I will bring it to you. If I am wrong, I will return with that news, as well.” She hesitated, then added, “And believe me, Captain, I truly do hope I am mistaken about this.”

 

Brackenbrook sighed. “As do I. If this outlandish tale of yours turns out to be true, Archet will be in a terrible situation, indeed.” He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. “But true or not, we must first have proof. There is a farm south of here, near the gate to Combe, owned by one Cal Sprigley. The Blackwolds have often stolen from him, so he tends to keep a close eye on their movements. If there is anything amiss stirring, he is the one most likely to know.”

 

Komaria took her leave of Captain Brackenbrook and made her way back to the Rangers to tell them where she was off to. Aragorn was looking more tense by the hour; his need to continue on his urgent errand was warring mightily with his need to tend Amdir. As for Amdir, he was fighting a battle of his own.

 

He had awoken from his sleep, but now he groaned through clenched teeth as he gripped Aragorn’s hand so hard his knuckles were white–even against the deathly pallor of his skin. Komaria had seen her master in pain before, but this was a sight completely unknown to her. For the past three years of being his apprentice, he had always seemed strong and unflappable. Nothing fazed him, at least not for long. Seeing him brought so low frightened her, especially knowing what his fate would be if the athelas could not cure him.

 

Komaria couldn’t bear it. She decided to leave word with Celandine about where she had gone rather than approach the two men herself. She sought out the Hobbits and relayed her message, trying to avoid looking behind her at her master.

 

As she was about to leave, however, Celandine stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Amdir isn’t doing very well, is he?” she asked gently. Komaria gave no answer. “Whenever I was sick, my old gammer would make me some bilberry tea–it perked me right up. I think it would help Amdir, too, but I haven’t any bilberries.” Celandine trailed off, releasing Komaria’s arm.

 

Komaria felt touched in spite of herself. Hobbits were known for being suspicious of Big Folk, especially Rangers. That this one would feel such acute sympathy for her master, indeed to wish for a way to try and help him, spoke volumes about her kindness and generosity.

 

It was this train of thought that, upon spotting a particular clump of bushes a little ways from the road, spurred Komaria to pick a pocketful of bilberries. It would most likely do very little to help her master, but that wasn’t the point. Amdir wandered in darkness; a simple kindness like this one would bring a much-needed light.

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