Alsea
It was a quaint place, she thought. Little brooks running through hillocks an everywhere things growing, no harsh stone or high walls, just small houses with pretty curtains and round doors. Unexciting, but sweet.
The road was darker than it had been, overgrown and little used. Greater traffic she had seen on roads coming from the north but in the Shire the routes out into the world were being closed off. When shadows came homely folk shut their doors. Alsea could not blame them.
She sat under an oak tree, never moving as she melted into the shadows. From the noisy building along the road intoxicated hobbits stumbled, calling good night to each other. She found their speech hard to follow, slurred by drink and twisted by accents she had not often heard. They did not look for a grey shape beneath the trees, so they did not see her sitting there, her bright hair covered and naught but her eyes glinting if one were to search for them.
The trail from the tavern had stopped and all were home by the time the rider came. When the first echoes of hoof beats caught at her ears she stood. The tree shielded her so that she remained hidden until the rider was almost level and she was sure of their identity. Only then did she step out onto the bank and let the moonlight reveal her.
"Ada," she called. At once the horses halted, pulled sharply in as the rider turned to look at her. Blue eyes squinted as he smiled at her.
"Alsea. What a pleasant surprise this is. Returning from sweet Elladan?" Olórin dismounted and cupped her cheek with his hand. "The roads are getting dangerous, child. You would do well to stay in one place."
"I take my lead from the one they call a Pilgrim, he who never stays for long." She was glad to make him laugh. In the short years since she had last seen him he had grown older, worn thin by the troubles of the world. Even his eyes were turning grey and tired.
"What bird told you I would pass this way?" They moved off the road, the horse wandering towards the little brook behind the tree.
"Elrond knew you had business in the south, his scouts saw you pass the Bruinen. I travel faster than you, Ada. It seemed to me you should not travel home without company." At that his sighed, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"I do not travel to Mithlond. It is here that I made for. There is..." He gestured to the lighted round windows littering the large hill above them. "A hobbit here I must see. Strange things are happening, Alsea. But you go home, keep yourself and your brother safely tucked away."
"Safe from Mordor? I know the shadows grow long there now. Surely here in the west we are not threatened? There is half the world between Eriador and Mordor." Elrond's House spoke of nothing else. Her uncles prepared themselves for yet another war. Even Círdan made ready his fleets as if the shadow of Sauron could reach them again and the realms of Men, Lórien and the Misty Mountains did not stand in his way.
"Yes, from Mordor, and other places if my suspicions are correct." He looked around them as if she would have let someone follow them. "The Ring of Power has been found." Alsea could do nothing but gasp. Into legend the Ring had passed, although she knew her father had not given up on it. The weapon that had wrought such destruction was found, as it was in their darkest dreams. A fear realised at last. The shadows wrapped themselves a little tighter around the corners of her vision. The Ring was a nightmare from her childhood, one that did not have a happy ending.
"Where?"
"Here in the Shire. Bilbo found it in Gollum's cave, when Thorin Oakenshield's company passed that way. Oh but it took me too long to see it." Alsea looked again at the house in the hill.
"The Enemy knows," she murmured, her voice small and frightened. "Where do you mean to hide it? Ada, if we were to take it with us now, we could cast it into the sea, off the isles, as far as Círdan's mariners dare to go. No one would find it at the gates to the West Road." It could not be found, every inch of her was repeating that with fury. Better a long and watchful peace than another war.
"What is cast into the sea can still come to shore," Olórin said quietly. "No, I shall confirm my suspicions, although I do not doubt I am right. Then I will go to Isengard. Curunír will know what to do."
"Ada... When we thought it was lost in the Anduin, carried to the sea then all was well. Why can we not cast it away, for certain this time? Is that not what Saruman will advise?"
"I do not know. I do not trust the sea to keep it hidden. Whatever we do the Ring must leave the Shire. It must go somewhere we can protect it whilst we decide what course to take." She watched him pace, his hands moving in an agitated fashion. After a moment he pulled out his pipe and used it to distract himself until he was once again the calm wise wizard the world knew, rather than an anxious old man.
"What would you have me do? Send me with a message to Círdan, or back to Imladris I do not mind."
"Ah, it is a good thing you are here. I am pleased to have seen you, before all of this starts." He sighed, blowing a smoke ring around her head so that she had a silver halo for a fleeting instant. "Go to Círdan. Tell him what I suspect, that the Ring of Power has been found and the Wise will be consulted. Ask him to send us his opinion. Then stay there, iel nîn. Stay safe." There was a haunted note to his voice, a sort of desperation.
"I must do as my lord Círdan commands, Ada. Gandir and I are his captains now, if it comes to war we will have no choice but to fight for him." Olórin watched her for a long time, his eyes sad within their nests of beard and eyebrow. She did not mean to make him worry, after all he had lost to Sauron he did not need the prospect of losing his children in a second war.
"One day you will not follow orders," he said quietly, putting his pipe away. "One day you are going to have enough of lords and orders."
"Why does that make you sound sorrowful?" Gently she stopped him from mounting his horse. He could leave others with questions burning on their lips but she would not let him leave her in that fashion.
"Because I knew two other elves who all at once stopped listening to orders. Both are now buried on the road to Mordor. Now go and warn Círdan. Then pray the war never reaches Lindon." She watched him turn his horse back into the road. "Your uncles will keep Imladris safe. Stay by the sea, do not go seeking trouble."
"The same goes for you, Ada. You will come to us again, before the darkness arrives?"
"I will try." Her fears were not allayed by his words. It could be that her father was riding off to a council, to the first in a series of deliberations over campaigns and strategies. Or he could have left her standing beneath an oak tree as he rode off to another war. Despite not feeling the chill Alsea shivered.
It was only once the grey cloaked figure had been welcomed inside the warmly lit hole that she slipped away through the trees, her feet padding silently over the undergrowth. She had no desire to arrive in Mithlond in the company of fading travellers heading towards the ships, so she stayed off the road. The trees murmured as she passed. They were strangely loud, they always had been. In the Shire the trees were awake and that made her smile briefly as she went on her way west.
The rain lashed at her hood as she knocked on Galdor's widow. She was sodden and the cold was beginning to make her skin prickle uncomfortably from days in the downpour. It seemed as if the clouds had followed her to the coast and left the rest of the world alone.
"Alsea!" Gandir pulled the window open and she slipped through, making an instant puddle on the floor. Galdor had decided long ago that the street level window was more useful than his front door and so would have to live with the consequences of having visitors appear in his studio not his hallway.
"Why are you bringing half the bay in with you?" Galdor turned to lean against the back of his chair. "Do try and keep the weather outside." His teasing she could have done without but the warm fire and the supper sitting on the table were welcome sights indeed. She thought nothing of taking what should have been Galdor's plate.
"We were not expecting you to return so soon, did you not wish to spend the summer in Imladris?" Gandir asked as she ate. "They are expecting a warmer time than we are."
"I came back early to meet Ada on the road. He sent me on with ill tidings."
"Tidings he cannot bring himself? Why, what has happened?"
"It does not bear telling twice." Alsea sighed and pushed her plate away.
"Then let us find Círdan and you can tell us." Whilst she had been eating Galdor had fetched two cloaks, putting one around Gandir's shoulders. "You have come far in the rain, and quickly too judging by your look. Come and tell Círdan your news then rest."
The rain had not let up, nor did the dark clouds show any signs of doing so. The sea lapped at the quay, wetting the stones and making them treacherous.
"Why does Ada not come here?" Gandir asked over the crash of the waves.
"He has business in the Shire. Wait a moment, brother, and then you will understand." Galdor held the Ship House door open for them. Inside there was little warmth for the house looked directly out over the river and the bay. Above the bridge the balcony was deserted, the river ran too fast in the rain to be safe for the ships. Alsea took the stairs two at a time until they had reached the door to Círdan's apartments.
"Come," the Shipwright called once she knocked. "I wondered who it was running through the rain in such haste." Círdan spoke slowly, a deep voice rumbling from the depths of his beard and he did not rise from his desk. "What deeds bring you to my door mere moments after your arrival home, Alsea?" They had long since given up wondering how he could know such things between the Watch's reports.
"Upon the road I met with my father and was sent on with ill news." Galdor had taken their cloaks and at a movement of Círdan's hand both he and Gandir sat.
"Then speak, if Mithrandir cannot spare the time to return here I doubt we can tarry either." The Shipwright leaned back, setting his quill aside and folding his hands together.
"The Ring of Power has been found."
Even the storm appeared to grow still at her words. Then Gandir gasps and turned to Galdor, who placed a gentle hand on his arm and stared in shock at the rug. Even Círdan, for all his wisdom, paused.
"Where?" Suddenly he was on his feet, moving around the desk in a spur of energy.
"In the Shire, Ada's little hobbit found it on the road to Erebor. He is there now, to confirm his suspicions." Olórin could be flustered and that made her uneasy, to see Círdan restless and on the verge of panic turned Alsea's gut to lead.
"It was lost," Gandir said slowly. "At Gladden Fields..."
"Its history is a tale for another time," Círdan snapped dismissively. He turned to look at the darkness beyond long window, the storm lashing at the port. "Olórin will not entrust it to the sea, or else he would have come at once."
"He means to take it before the Council, after seeking Curunír's advice. I asked him to bring it here but he refused to cast it into the ocean, even beyond the isles."
"Mithrandir will not solve this in haste," Galdor murmured, still frowning at the rug. "A great many Councils will he call before taking action, such is his way."
"There is not time for that." It seemed to Alsea that she and Gandir might as well have not been present for Círdan looked only to Galdor.
"There is time yet, if Lórien and Mirkwood mobilise..."
"Even all the realms of the Eldar could not now stand against the Shadow," Círdan sighed. Slowly, deep in thought, he returned to his desk. "We have not the power now." Finally he turned back to Alsea. "Is there aught else?"
"Only that he bids you send your counsel." The Shipwright nodded solemnly. "He as good as ordered me to remain behind Mithlond's walls, he thinks it will come to war."
"We are at war," Galdor told her.
"Enough." Galdor finally looked up at Círdan and the old elf sighed deeply. "The storm will blow over by morning. Let me think on this for a night at least. Galdor, if you would stay a moment?"
Out in the corridor Gandir passed Alsea her cloak.
"Can you guess what might happen?" he asked her in a hushed whisper, barely audible over the howl of the storm.
"A war? Ada seems to think it will come to that. I know Mirkwood and Gondor fight already, although that is small compared to a war that could reach us. For now I hope there will only be councils and a great toing and froing between the Wise."
"Círdan has been building more ships." Alsea scowled beneath her hood. It was not right to prepare to flee into the West at such a time. Not when they still had so much to fight for.
"We had better start building war galleys," she muttered and lengthened her steps to bring her into the warmth of Galdor's house all the sooner. Gandir trotted behind her with a worried scowl.