Some weeks before, Cailiawen had left her job at the Forsaken when she overheard a rough traveller speak of an ill wind coming from the Ettenmoors. She felt it in side her that she should go there and find out what was stirring. It was afterall her heritage home. Few lived there now. Only hardy and resilient Hillmen who had renounced the darkness of old and embraced their Dunedain heritage albeit much mingled and diminished. She knew of three villages, and it was here she travelled to.<br/><br/>The first one she arrived at was deserted, with many of the huts burned to the ground. She could see smoke rising over the woods in the direction of the next ville, and she cautiously moved through the trees toward it. When she got there, she crouched and closed her eyes as the glimpse of the savage hillmen of the north pillaged. She looked again and saw someone who appeared to be the leader of this brigand mob. She fought back the memory of her village being sacked, and the horror she had witnessed. It was happening again before her. She grasped her knife but knew she could not match these brutal men alone. She hid until the screams and cries had died into the crackling sound of fires burning. She approached to find no one left alive.<br/><br/>It was early morning when Cailiawen had found where the hillmen had camped for the night. She knew she had one chance to do this, and with a silent gurgle, their watchman crumpled, his neck slit. She crept to the sleeping men, and seeing the leader, she plunged the watchman’s knife into his chest. The commotion caused the others to stir, and she wounded as many as she could with her sword before fleeing into the night. There were some who pursued, and though she was able to elude most of them, she ran headlong into one and knocked him over. He recovered enough to throw his knife into the darkness where she had fled, and Cailiawen felt it bite as it glanced off her right shoulder blade. She did not pause, and soon outran her few pursuers.<br/><br/>When daylight came, she was unsure where exactly she was. Looking at the hills and the trees, she guessed she was in east Rhuadur. She removed her cloak and tried to look at her shoulder and could see her torn tunic wet with blood. She could not treat herself very well and threw her cloak back on and stood. She did not get ten steps past the tree she had taken refuge under in the dark when arrows pointed at her from all around.<br/><br/>A fair face with dark hair and not armed with a bow stepped forward and stood before Cailiawen. He said,<br/><br/>“Few if any elf friends come to these lands from the north save evil. State your name and your purpose, and I, Eforian, may decide to spare your life.”<br/><br/>Cailiawen relaxed her grip on her knife hilt and raised her hands. She said,<br/><br/>“I am Cailiawen of Rhuadur.”<br/><br/>“Few if any hail from that land who are good. The ashes of Arnor of old have long since grown cold in Rhuadur”.<br/><br/>Eforian said, stepping around Cailiawen and taking her knife and sword. He looked at them and then her shoulder. He said,<br/><br/>“Blood. You are wounded. You have been fighting?”<br/><br/>“Yes, brigands sacking the last villes. I fought and killed several of them, but one of their knives found its mark. I got away and knew not where I ran in the dark until exhaustion overtook me here. This is the lands of Imladris, no?”<br/><br/>Cailiawen said, looking around at the trees. Eforian said,<br/><br/>“Yes. We guard for enemies. I cannot determine be you friend or foe, so you will be taken as prisoner to our Lord, and it will be his wisdom that will decide your fate at our hands.”<br/><br/>Suddenly, all went dark for Cailiawen as a hood was slipped over her head. With an elf holding each arm, she was escorted via secret ways into the realm of Elrond.<br/><br/>It was later in the morning when they arrived in Imladris, and the hood was removed from Cailiawen. There were many eyes on them as they came to the courtyard near the House of Elrond. Cailiawen stood on the stone tiles while Sindarin words exchanged between Eforian and a high guard. He kept looking at her as they talked. Cailiawen kept looking around, having never seen Rivendell before. The stories of old did not do it justice. She tried to relax but the two guards kept hold of her. When the long discussion finished, Eforian came to her and said,<br/><br/>“You will remain with us as a prisoner but will be regarded as a guest until such time our Lord decides your fate. You come at a strange time, Cailiawen of Rhuadur.”<br/><br/>She was escorted to a small room an elven maiden awaited to tend her wound. A small platter of fruits and vegetables was on the table, and some fresh clothes hung nearby. Though the door was bolted shut only to be opened by a guard with Sindarin words from the maiden or from orders from outside, Cailiawen sighed as she relaxed, removing her cloak. There seemed to be some advantages of being a prisoner in the house of Elrond.