Chapter 1
Warnings: mentions of Glorfindel/Erestor
"Dracual"
"You cannot fly like an eagle with the wings of a wren." – William Henry Hudson
Olórin gently shut the door behind himself with a sigh as he left the room. It was late into the night, the moon at its highest point.
"Still not awake I take it," I say, Olórin jumps and turns to face me.
"No, not yet. When did you arrive, Lomëion?" he replies.
"Just three minutes ago," I say, shrugging as my clothes wet from the rain outside, leave a puddle on the floor.
"You should rest, these endless patrols are not easy, even for you." Olórin frowns.
"I will, soon," I reassure him, "I just wanted to check on you first."
"And I am quite well, you may go and rest now, in fact I insist," Olórin shoos me, rolling my eyes I pull my wet cloak tighter about my shoulders, startling a nearby elf when the move defined two large bumps on my back.
"Alright, Olórin, I shall go rest now," I sigh, turning to go, but stop when Olórin calls my name.
"Rest well," he says, I nod once and continue on my way. I weave my way through the halls of Rivendell and quickly reach the room that has unofficially been named mine. I slip through the door and swiftly remove my cloak, sighing in relief when the heavy fabric is gone, freeing my wings. With a moan I stretch them out with a few flaps, scattering papers and disturbing the drapes. Stepping further into the dark room I toss my cloak over the back of a convenient chair and fold my wings against my back. Walking to the hearth I quickly set about making a fire, fumbling a couple times with the tinder box before I finally managed it; a growl escapes my throat when the sparks don't catch. Tossing the tinder box onto the table I hiss in frustration, giving up I begin the task of peeling my wet clothes off my skinny frame, I wrestle my tunic and shirt off, being gentle with my wings as I pull them through the slits in the back; I could have hidden my wings within my back but I preferred to leave them out where if I had to I could use them to fly.
Rummaging through the wardrobe for a nightshirt I'm distracted by a knock on my door, momentarily giving up I quickly cross the distance to the door and open it up a crack.
"Yes?" I poke my head through the gap to see Lord Elrond.
"I do believe you gave one of the maids a fright earlier, she seemed to think you were afflicted with something," he says, explaining his presence.
"I'm fine. It was just my wings," I grumble, "I'm sorry you were dragged out of bed for nothing. Although, knowing you, you were still awake and working." My comment is aided by the fact that Elrond's hair is still braided and the guilty shuffle he gives, I nod.
"You are sure you are not injured," Elrond says, peering closely at me, I sigh and open the door fully before twirling in a complete circle.
"Healthy as a horse, healthier even," I say, my annoyance coloring my voice, "go to bed, Elrond. We can finish talking in the morning." The elven lord nods and leaves, when he has disappeared down the hallway I close my door and return to the wardrobe where I quickly snatch a loose pair of trousers that I change into, forgoing a nightshirt. Grabbing the brush that lays on the nightstand by the bed I run it through my long black hair, that done I set the brush back down and veritably throw myself onto the bed, in a matter of seconds I'm fast asleep.
The next morning dawned clear and bright and it was with much glee and gratitude that I climbed into a warm bath that had been prepared for me. After scrubbing myself clean, paying particular attention to my wings and cleaning the membranes, I reluctantly climbed out of the cooling water and dried off, there was no time to soak much to my disappointment, before dressing in a simple pair of tan leggings and a light blue shirt and tunic. Clean and dressed I pulled a brush through my hair and put on my spare black cloak, the other one was still damp, and set off to find food to break my fast, which I found in the great hall. Whilst there I noticed the absence of Lord Elrond and Olórin, so I quickly finished my meal and set off to find them. I quickly found them in the young Halfling's room, just as he was waking up.
"Where am I," he asks
"You are in the House of Elrond and it is ten o' clock in the morning on October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know," Olórin replies and Elrond steps up beside the bed.
"Welcome to Rivendell, Master Baggins," he says as I step into the room.
"I see our young friend has awoken at last," I say to Olórin with a smile, revealing my fangs. Frodo starts but slowly relaxes when no one else reacts, "it's nice to meet you Mister Baggins. My name is Lomëion."
"At your service and your families'," Frodo replies with a nod, the closest he can get to a bow whilst laying down. I quirk an amused smile, so polite these hobbits, though I don't have any family for him to be of service too.
"And I at yours and your family," I say nonetheless before turning to face Olórin, "Mithrandir, might I have a word?" Olórin nods and follows me from the room, from there I lead him to a secluded balcony where we won't be overheard.
"Olórin you know the Ring cannot stay here, the Shikinar know of its presence here, I nearly crossed paths with five of them," I hiss after making sure we were alone. Olórin leans on his staff, suddenly looking his age. I recoil in shock, even after knowing Olórin since he came to Arda marred he had never looked as defeated as he does now.
"I know, Lomëion. The Counsel is to be held tomorrow and there the fate of the Ring will be decided," Olórin sighs.
I left Olórin to his own devices after that and made my way down to the training grounds where I proceeded to grab the only elf that could keep up with me and challenge him to a spar.
"What has you in this mood, normally you're of a kinder disposition," Glorfindel asks as he parries the blow I aim at his torso. I growl, my lips curling back on their own accord to reveal my fangs as I duck a swipe aimed at my neck.
"That stupid, secretive, manipulative, meddling, Istari is keeping secrets from me," I rant even as Glorfindel barely avoids being stabbed through the shoulder. I would have continued ranting but I was interrupted by the dinner bell, reluctantly I lower my sword and Glorfindel gratefully sheaths his after inspecting it for any damage, we had been sparring for the last four hours and were both soaked with sweat. After sheathing my sword and thanking Glorfindel for the sparring match we go our separate ways to get cleaned up for dinner. I quickly make my way to my room and change clothes, forgoing the heavy, over-sized cloak in favor of simply pulling my wings into my back where they took the form of wings that seemed to be painted on my skin. I pull on one of the few tunics I had that didn't have slits in the back to accommodate my wings and left my room, closing the door behind me, to go to the great hall where dinner was being served. Once there I quickly took my seat at Lord Elrond's table, ignoring the stares I was receiving from elves, men, and dwarves alike, I cut a strange figure with my long black hair, but my ears were round, most Men didn't have hair so long and most Noldor didn't have such icy blue eyes. Of course, the staring could be because I took a seat right beside Glorfindel and ignored Olórin's greeting, effectively giving him the silent treatment, or it could be the fact that I was late.
Soon I had a plate of food in front of me and from there the evening progressed rather smoothly, despite Olórin receiving the cold shoulder from me.
"Lomëion," Frodo says, effectively capturing my attention from my meal, Glorfindel takes this chance to steal some food from my plate despite the glare he receives from Erestor for doing so.
"Yes, Frodo," I reply, rising an eyebrow at the antics of the married couple.
"I was just wondering how long you've known Gandalf for," he says, my head snaps in his direction, eyes wide in shock and surprise.
"Why do you ask," I ask warily, frowning
"Well you don't look that old, but Gandalf says that you are older than him by several centuries," Frodo replies.
"Oh, he does, does he? Well I hate to be the one to do it, but I must reveal the lie in that statement. If you go by when the Istari arrived in Arda, then yes, I am older than Mithrandir by more than just several centuries, but if we go by when we were created than Mithrandir is actually much older than I," I say, rising an eyebrow at Olórin who just rises one in return and grumbles to himself.
"Than you are an elf," Frodo asks me and everyone at the high table who heard and knows chokes or laughs.
"Nay, Frodo, I am no elf, but what race I belong to will have to wait for a time when there are fewer ears to listen in," I say with a chuckle, jabbing Glorfindel in the ribs when he doesn't bother to hide his laughter and giving Frodo a reassuring smile. After that dinner passes quietly and soon everyone retreats to the Hall of Fire, everyone but me that is, I retreated to my room for the night. Even as I readied myself for sleep I could hear the singing and merrymaking from the Hall of Fire and as I settled into bed the songs lulled me into the realm of dreams.
Shikinar - Ringwraiths