(A/N: The character Tatiana was originally written by my good friend labeledrose. I have adapted her to fit into this story with permission from this inspring writer. If you're wanting more background on Tatiana, check out labeledrose's version! All the elvish in this story is supplied by links from Navaer Lalaith-check them out for language help! And no, I do not own The Lord of the Rings, though it would be a nice birthday present! )
It began with a dream.
Seven year old Calen walked hand in hand with a kind old man through a picturesque, enchanting wood. The man was tall, with a big gray beard and gentle eyes that twinkled from beneath large, bushy eyebrows. He wore a billowing gray robe and an impossibly crooked pointy hat. Calen wore simple brown breeches under a blue-gray tunic that exactly matched the color of her eyes.
Slowly, in no great hurry, the two walked along the path through the trees; the old man pointing out different animals and plants as they passed. Once, when they came upon a small patch of tiny pale flowers shaped like stars, the girl knelt and ran a light, tender hand over their silky petals.
"What are these called, Mithrandir?" she asked, bending to smell them. Their scent was light and fresh.
"Those are Niphredil, Calen. Do you like them?" the old man smiled.
"Oh yes. They're very beautiful," Calen replied, standing again.
The wood blurred and shifted to become a dark ceiling dimply lit by the sun's first rays shining through the window. Calen lay still, trying to remember the dream even as it slipped beyond recall.
"Curse it!" she muttered irritably.
Rolling, she fell off the bed and hit the floor with a bang. The ground was comfortingly solid, and she lay there for a moment lost in thought.
"Another boring day of nothing," she thought.
Indeed, it was nothing. Her uncle, the King Theoden, had hired yet another tutor for her, but Calen's lessons had only lasted a year before her teacher was learning a few things from her. After all, she knew the entire elvish language and could speak it fluently, and seemed to know everything else worth teaching. Sometimes, she wondered how she knew it-she simply couldn't remember learning the language at all, and it couldn't have been her tutor because he certainly didn't know it. But that meant she wasn't required to take lessons, so she never asked.
Unfortunately, that also gave her all day, all the time, to amuse herself. At first she used her new freedom to explore parts of the Golden Hall that she had never seen before. After a while, though, she knew her home by the back of her hand. Luckily, her cousin Eomer, who was seven years older than Calen, had recently started combat training in order to become a Rider for the Rohirrim. After withstanding several of Calen's pleas, he gave in and decided to train her secretly as well. Before too long, she was just as good as he was with a sword and even better at riding. Once, Eomer had admitted that she rode better than most of the soldiers in the Rohirrim. Then, realizing that he had just given her a complement, muttered that it was only because she could practice all the time without other duties getting in the way.
Calen did not necessarily want to be a soldier, for she was against killing without reason, and anyway the expectations of her gender restricted her from such activity. However, she had learned long ago (when or where she couldn't remember) that those who had not swords could still die upon them. Besides, it was something to do that allowed her to focus and also provided good protection when necessary.
Rising from the floor, she stretched her arms up over her head. Her eyes fell upon an open book that lay on the pillow beside where her head had been, and remembered that she had fallen asleep reading-again. Rolling her eyes, she retrieved the tome and put it away.
She dressed in her usual attire; comfortable breeches and a light shirt under a loose tunic, then went to the window and peeked out. It was a beautiful morning, and she grinned happily. Then a thought came to her and the smile faded.
Eomer was to ride abroad in the Rohirrim today, she remembered, in order to gain hands on experience. He was probably already gone, and even if he wasn't, he would be too busy to talk.
Calen sighed. Now she really had nothing to do. Eowyn and Theodred, her two other cousins, were either still asleep or going about their own business, and she didn't much feel like being with them anyway. A sudden idea came to her, and she decided to re-kindle one of her oldest hobbies that had lately become dormant. The plains of Rohan had always been worth exploring. It wasn't much, but it would get her out of Edoras for a while. She left her room, locking the door behind her, and headed down the foyer to the Great Hall. Even at this hour, Calen knew her uncle would be awake.
Nearing the vast wooden door, she recognized her uncle's new guard, whom she had become friends with, and greeted him.
"Good morning, Hama," she said pleasantly, reaching for the handle of the large doors.
"Greeting Calen. I'm afraid you cant go in there right now," he said, putting a restraining hand on her arm.
"Why not?"
"Your uncle is talking with a guest who arrived late last night. He said he wanted no interruptions."
Calen listened. She could hear voices beyond the door. One she knew as her uncle, the other was strange but struck a chord in her memory. She remembered that voice from somewhere...
"Who is it?" she asked, curious.
"I myself do not know," he shrugged. "He looked old. Why don't you come back later, Calen," he said meaningfully.
"Oh sure," Calen muttered, stomping her heel against the floor. "Later. Eomer busy, my uncle busy, everyone busy; and some new visitor that I cant meet. Why not? Later."
She turned and started down the hall, turning the corner abruptly when a sudden idea came to her. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she inched along the wall until her fingers touched the thick fibers of an ancient tapestry that had hung there forever. Quietly, she lifted the heavy material from the wall and slipped behind it. In the dark, her fingers danced along the wall until they found a small latch in the panels. With a shove against the wood, the wall gave way, becoming a door. She crawled into a tiny box, closing the door behind her.
Inside, she drew her legs under her, sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall. She had discovered this place on accident while hiding from her tutor behind the old tapestry. Not only did it provide a good hiding place, she could hear every word that was said inside the Great Hall. From experience, she could tell that she sat concealed just behind her uncle's throne.
Pressing her ear against the wall, she listened intently.
"I don't suppose you could provide me with an explanation as to why you appeared so suddenly, Gandalf," her uncle was saying, slightly irked.
"Don't be daft, Theoden King," remarked the stranger in a placid tone. "You know why I'm here. I came to see the girl."
"I could only have hoped as much," Theoden muttered.
"Where is she?" the stranger-Gandalf-asked.
"Asleep. I will not allow you to disturb her."
"I can wait..."
Calen yawned. These days, everything was about Eowyn. She was three years older than Calen, but acted three years younger. Still, in just a few months time she was to be given the title of "White Lady of Rohan". Calen had no idea what that meant, and truly didn't care. In case, there had been lots of important people coming to Rohan to visit Eowyn. Important, but not interesting, and Calen was getting tired of it. Not because she was jealous-she did not easily trust people. It was just that Eowyn had taken to gloating about all the attention she was getting, trying to make Calen feel bad. Well, it wasn't working as she had planned; all it did was anger Calen even more.
Calen made a face, then climbed out of the box back into the hall. By now, she wasn't even going to bother with telling her uncle where she was headed. If anyone needed her, they'd have to find her.
She stalked out to the stable and slipped in. The soft shuffling of the horses soothed her. Roaming the stalls, Calen wished that she had a horse of her own. Instead, she had to use the ones that weren't being ridden that day.
Near the back, she came to a frisky black horse. He was shorter than most horses, which, for Calen, was good.
"Ahhhh, Rauko," muttered Calen.
The horse pricked up his ears at the mention of his name, then laid them flat against his skull as Calen entered with a halter. She frowned at him.
"Whoever named you did it well," she scolded. "It means 'demon', and you certainly fit the description."
Rauko lifted a hind foot experimentally, and Calen spoke to him sharply in elvish.
"Daro te!" Stop that!
The horse pricked his ears forward again and stood innocently on all fours. Calen shrugged. She had noticed lately that all the horses obeyed her-really obeyed her, when she used the elvish language. She couldn't figure it out, but if it worked it worked.
In seconds she had the halter over Rauko's head and was leading him out the back gate. At the sight of the open plains, Rauko sidled from side to side excitedly. Laughing, Calen vaulted up and let him have his head, marveling at how fast he ran for being so small.
The thundering of his hooves echoing in her mind, Calen breathed the crisp morning air and sighed to herself. This was what she lived for. After a while she gathered the reins and slowed her mount to a walk. They roamed the hills for an hour, not really looking for anything in particular.
A flash of white among the rocks to their right made Calen jump. Looking harder, she smiled to herself. From behind the rocks, a brilliant white stallion galloped in their direction.
"Shadowfax," Calen breathed.
She had seen him several times before and knew him to be the lord of all horses. Actually, that had been her chief reason for going out today. She had secretly been wanting to get to know this horse.
Dismounting, she stood patiently and let him approach. He stopped a few feet away, curious but equally cautious. Calen held out her hands. Hesitantly, he stepped forward. Suddenly, he jerked his head up and stared at something behind Calen. Before she turned around, the marvelous creature was gone. Rauko started to follow, and she had to lung for his reins. In all the commotion, she didn't notice the figure behind her.
Turning, she jumped in surprise. Standing there in front of her was the old man from her dream. She was sure of it-he wore the same gray robe and pointy hat. After a moment, she realized how rude she was being-staring open-mouthed at this man. Blinking, she adjusted her hold on Rauko's reins.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Did you say something?"
"I did," the old man said softly. "I said 'I'm sorry to disturb you. You and your friend'."
Calen shrugged. "I'll see him again."
The old man's eyes sparkled. "I hope so. You seem to have a... connection with horses, Calen."
Calen frowned and moved closer to Rauko. She hadn't brought her sword, but she could escape quickly if the need arose.
"How do you know my name?"
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.
"That doesn't answer my question-" began Calen, but he cut her off.
"Your question will be answered in due time."
Calen looked at him, then took a deep breath.
"I do know you... Mithrandir," she said slowly. "But I do not know how. I've had dreams..."
"Ahhh, I thought so. I am also called Gandalf, you may have heard of me now."
"Yes! I have heard of you. They call you the Grey Pilgrim. You're a wizard!" Calen said excitedly.
Gandalf nodded. "You've grown much. The last time I saw you was in Lothlorien. How old are you now?"
"Twenty years old on October 27. Now tell me how you know my name," demanded Calen.
The wizard chuckled. "You still do not easily place your trust in people, do you?"
"I never have and I never will," said Calen warily. "Are you going to tell me ho-"
"I knew you when you were just a little girl, Calen," Gandalf interrupted. "Now would you like to hear more or will you insist on biting my head off?"
His tone was dangerously pleasant.
Calen bit her lip. She had always wanted to know more about her oh-so-vague past...
"What can you tell me?" she ventured.
"Everything. Anything you could possibly want to know about your childhood. And more..." he added thoughtfully.
Tapping her foot, she thought a moment more and answered.
"Tell me."
"Not here," Gandalf insisted. "It's too open, and besides, this may take a while. I'll need to sit."
"I have all day," muttered Calen.
"Good," he replied, mounting a chestnut horse that Calen didn't recognize. She mounted Rauko and waited for him to tell her where they were going.
"Follow me," was all he said.
