Miril yawned as she took her beer from Barliman Butterbur. She thanked him, plopping down some coins for the four's drinks. Aragorn had told her to be in charge of the money.

"So, what are the plans?" Miril asked them quietly.

Aragorn sighed, "There is a ranger post not far from here, as you know, Miril. I plan to head there and find out where Halbarad is. Elladan, what will you two do?"

The twin looked up from where he had been supping at his wine. Wine wasn't ordered much in the Inn, but Butterbur had fortunately had a case or two deep in the back. He'd given the twins a bottle on the house.

"We shall seek out one of the halls of the elves. Gildor may already be past this way, but Finya's company should be nearby I would think," he turned in question to his brother. "You know the movements of our kin better than I, Elrohir."

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, "Hecilion's company should be about a half day's walk from here."

"Who's Hecilion," Miril asked the brothers, not familiar with the elven name, "Who would name their child the Outcast One?"

Elrohir shrugged, "Hecilion is an elf who claims to be descended from Ecthelion of the Fountain. Just how many of our kin believe him..."

"But he is a just elf," Elladan added quickly, "A kind soul. Though a bit rash. Yet I think we can trust him."

"We have little choice," Aragorn reminded them quietly.

The room was growing steadily quieter. More and more folk were leaving the room. Only a handful of patrons were still there, and many had gaunt, suspicious looks on their faces. Miril was uneasy about them, but she said nothing immediately.

"Maybe we should head back to the rooms," she whispered after a few moments of quiet conversation. "The others are making me nervous."

Aragorn agreed, and the four companions arose out of their seats. They put their cloak hoods up as they walked to their rooms, past the other few patrons. Eventually they reached their rooms and they decided to congregate in Aragorn and Miril's room. It was a cozy fit as the room was not that large. There was a small fireplace between two beds, a desk on one side, and a small rocking chair on the other. Elladan took the rocking chair, Elrohir the desk chair, Aragorn the bed, and Miril stood beside her foster-uncle.

"What time should we leave in the morning," Miril asked them.

As the youngest, by far, in the group, she would yield to the others. She made no claim to know the best course of action, though at thirty-nine, she had seen her fair share in the world. Nevertheless, she knew that her elders were even more experienced.

"You and Aragorn should leave before us, before dawn," Elladan chipped in, "I should think it wise for the two of you, who are likely to be recognized, to leave before the inhabitants of Bree wake up. We can leave later."

"My plan exactly," Aragorn agreed with him.

"Let us rest then," Elrohir said, "For though we need less sleep than you, it is nice to rest when one can!"

Miril laughed, "Agreed!"

"You sure you don't want to share a room with my brother," Elladan smirked.

Miril blushed but looked positively alarmed, "Nay!"

Elrohir looked slightly disheartened but he laughed nonetheless, "It appears you are stuck with me, brother!"

The elven twins left to go across the hall. Aragorn began to change out of his traveling clothes into more comfy, cleaner pants. Miril, getting out her sleeping clothes, put them on with a stretch and a yawn. Scratching her head, she climbed under her covers and blew out a candle that sat next to her bed.

Aragorn spent a little while longer checking to make sure the windows and doors were locked, the lights were out, and weapons were within reach. When he finally got into bed, Miril was already asleep and dreaming.

The sky was blood red. The sea mirrored its scarlet hue. A single ship sat at a dock, waiting to cast off. It was shaped like a swan, its prow decorated in white birch and lindon wood. The sand was a reddish-brown, soaked by the outgoing tide. In the wet sand, being washed over by the waves every few seconds was a jewel.

Miril stood with her feet just barely being washed by the waves. She looked down at the precious stone before her. It shone with an unnatural light, its radiant beams illuminating the sand around it. She put her hand out to touch it before suddenly it vanished. Everything around her vanished.

She stood on the dock now, her bare feet warm on the smooth wooden beams. She looked at the ship that sat moored to the dock and examined it. It was beautiful. Purely white, with gold and blue accents, it stood as a pinnacle of hope amidst the red sea and sky. It was an escape. The easy route. She knew she should take it.

But she could not. It was not her time... and the jewel. The jewel was too attractive. She wanted to hold the shining gemstone with all her heart, to acquire the beautiful light contained within its crystal being. But she could not. It was not her time.

Miril woke with a start. Aragorn was already up and dressed. He looked at her as she gasped while waking up, concerned for his friend.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she nodded. "My apologies. I don't know what came over me. It must've been a dream."

Aragorn looked at her in concern, "What was it about?"

"Nothing," she brushed it up, "Trust me. Let's just get going before the sun rises."

"Agreed."

They ate a quick breakfast of bread and cheese before packing up their bags and heading out to retrieve the horses. Leaving Nob, who apparently had slept over in the stables, the amount owed, they took out their horses and led them down the street to the gate.

The gatekeeper wasn't sad to see them go.