Disclaimer: From here on out, this story and its following ones except its single unique character of my own originality belongs to J.R.R Tolkein and other important parties.
Author's Note: Yes, this is another retelling of the movie. Yes, it is a romance. No, it is not a Mary-Sue. No, it will not be a girl-falls-into-middle-earth sort of story. No, it will not be wrought with fluff. Yes, this is a very. Long. First. Chapter.
Now that the boring straightforward stuff is out of the way, I'll offer you a small introduction. This is my story, with my character that I am finally given into publishing. I was but an adolescent in middle school when I last posted something. A gap of time of growth and roller-coasters of self doubt lies between then and now. I strongly dislike all former stories of mine, I wouldn't advise anyone to read it for the world and I only keep them on FanFiction as a reminder of my ability to actually finish I story.
This will be a slowly developed story with my own character thrown into the adventure providing her own perspective of what transpires in the Hobbit movies. The story will continue on into the Lord of the Rings series as well. This is a romance, but it is a very painstakingly developed romance that is more concerned with the main character's inner conflict. And there will be nothing M-rated in here, aside from potential innuendos and curse words. So after a week of obsessive writing, I can finally say, "On with the story!"
The perpetual strife that lay between dwarves and elves was one that was clearly not without cause, but it was a narrow-minded perspective taught to be recognized from birth without formulating perceptions of our own. The origins of our hostilities began long before it could be accounted for. Some say the fault of such rifts was caused by the Valar and Aulë, when the dwarves were created in the image of our kind, but flawed in appearance and deportment. Such jealousies of imperfection were said to have been the downfall of any chance of amiable conduct between the two races.
Yet no theory was sufficient to be ample cause for our enmity. We elves believe ourselves to be too open-minded to feel that the hatred lies with us, and the was hostility was provoked entirely on the dwarves' part. We would seek peace where the dwarves seek enemies, was our claim. For that we learned never to trust them, for their rapacious hearts were clouded by their lust for riches.
For the few years I had trekked the earth, I too believed ourselves righteous and innocent in the eternal discord between us and the dwarves. We were too wise, too pure to associate with dissent without need. But what is conviction without one's own experiences and beliefs to endorse it? It is easy to follow suit in the manner we viewed our unchanging relationships with dwarvenkind when its justification comes from a single perspective without view of the other. When one has no personal outlook on the matter firsthand.
Elves, seeking the perfection and balance in all things—most importantly, in ourselves—believe all hate is without justice. There was no need for resentment when harmony was in the reach of all. But hatred I came to find was on rare occasion justified.
Chapter 1
Que Sera, Sera
(Whatever Will Be, Will Be)
Silence filled the gaps between the trees. Not the whisper of the wind, the rustle of branches, nor the song of a Warbler disrupted the stillness of this small clearing.
My steps were cautious and deliberate, unwilling to neglect my stealth in fear that I would make a noise, sending my quarry far beyond the range of my senses. Eying the ground, I watched for the jagged, two-pronged sets of footprints, set apart inches from one another. I followed them deeper into the wood, watchfully avoiding dried leaves and loose branches.
Sun beams that filtered through the shroud of pines cast its faint light onto something shimmering in the distance. I halted in my tracks, narrowing my eyes to distinguish the reflective object. It rose tall, revealing a head, slender branches extending from its crown.
A stag, I realized, excitement surging through me. It was a full grown buck, its unblemished fur shone like silver in this dimmed light. A very rare occasion it was for one to drift so deep into the Moors as they tended to dwell in the lowlands of the wild, thus I could not let the opportunity slip through my fingers. Again.
Quantity, not quality was the basic principle to these hunts, but since the endeavors were never an absolute necessity, I allowed time to indulge in a competition on the type of game I managed to find with myself and occasionally with hunting companions. Looking at the string of the few brown hares that dangled from my hand, I saw myself in poor rank in today's hunt, in both number and quality.
Quick and quiet, I reminded myself. No sudden moves.
Gently lowering the line that bound my brown hares onto the ground, I raised the bow off my shoulders, bringing it below my waist. I reached over my shoulder, fingers brushing against the delicate feathers of the slender object I sought. Never letting my eyes stray from the unaware buck, I brought the two objects together positioning it in front of my body. Fingers deftly curling around the taut string, I found my invisible path through the air, straight to the point between his shoulders where a steady heart pulsated. A quick, passive death it would make, without a pursuit to follow.
My breath was warm against my partially gloved hand as it lingered near my lip. I heard only the rhythm of my heartbeat, and felt only the engravings of the bow in one hand and the circulation being cut off by the string in the other. My vision centered completely on the target, disregarding my surroundings.
The string slid from my uncurled fingers, the arrow surging toward its intended target. There was only a whimper and a rustle of leaves, as the buck collapsed behind the bush.
Gotcha, I smiled triumphantly.
I ran forward, finding the buck motionless and grateful the kill had been quick and clean. It lay flat on its side, its mouth slightly agape from its final cry of pain. I looked at my handiwork and saw that the arrow had penetrated the envisioned mark perfectly. A familiar twinge of regret tugged at my heart as I knelt down to my fallen game, staring into its glassy, lifeless eyes and admiring the silver luster of its fur. "Diolle, mellon nin. Sinta lle afiste illuva nae e lahoa i ta tolka poldora en gwaith amin. " (Thank you, my friend. Know that your sacrifice will not be in vain as it fuels the strength of my people.)
When I went to cut the usable parts from the deer, my ears caught a subtle noise, my body stiffening. There was a second presence, I discerned, approaching from behind. Its steps were but a whisper of a sound, but ever distinguishable amidst the silence. Its gradual, quiet advances indicated the possibility that it be a prowling, ravenous animal. In my many years of hunting in these parts I had never come across a predatory creature that drew so close the Valley, but my vigilance left me always ready to encounter one.
My fingers twitched in anticipation, slowly dislodging the entrenched arrow from the deer's heart, as drawing an arrow from my quiver would have been too risky. Drops of blood stained my fingers as I twisted my wrist freeing the fine metal point. My fingers became white as the digits latched themselves in a tight grip to the elegantly carved wood.
I swung around, caught glimpse the unnatural figure that shadowed me, and let loose of the stained arrow, not willing to question what it was or its intent. I saw the figure move, hastily lowering its body closer to the ground, managing to dodge the arrow completely. As it stood erect once again, my survival instinct disappeared, recognizing the eyes of the new company.
"Lindir, mellon nin!" I sighed in relief, lowering my bow arm. "Come to join me in a bit of target practice, have you?" (my friend)
The male elf glanced sideways at the trunk where the arrow had pierced. "Not by my own choice or preference, no," he said, swallowing in apprehension of the near fatality. "You ought to be more careful."
"Gaheno nin," I offered through a laugh, bringing the bow over my head and positioning it in its resting position across my body as I went back to collect my fallen quarry. "Next time, I shall be sure to warn you when I plan to aim for your head," I promised in mock sincerity, bringing my hand over my heart. (My apologies.)
He rolled his eyes at the frivolity, but did not permit aggravation to remain between us for long as he graciously took the string of hares from my hands. "Ill-fortuned in the hunt today, Aihini?"
My mouth twitched in annoyance at his words, taking account of the three rabbits and the stag and reaching the conclusion that it had not been much, though the stag had been a small victory for myself. "The quarry was regretfully scarce this day. I was fortunate to have found the buck," I grumbled, not over the little avail I garnered in the hunt today, but at the impertinent appellation he loved to address me with.
"Aihini,"little child, normally a word of endearment to a youth, but far from it when spoken to me. Not only did I possess far fewer years than Lindir—which he never failed to remind me of when we would be at a stalemate in comparing our wits and wisdom—he never ceased to tease me about my abnormal height. Among my people I was considered unnaturally short in my frame. Foreign visitors to Rivendell frequently would mistake me for an obscenely emaciated dwarf, the worst kind of term I could be associated with. I brushed off the exasperating name, knowing that whining about it would only provide him satisfaction, giving him more reason to use it. "What brings you out to the hunting grounds?" I inquired, drawing my knife from my belt as I began to take my salvage of the fallen stag.
His uneasiness over the sight highly palpable, I carved slowly with skill into the stag, managing to catch a glimpse of Lindir's jaw moving uneasily as he took in the disgusting, bloody sight. Such a strong stomach, I remarked in jovial sarcasm, sympathizing only slightly with him for having tolerated the sight. The meat had to be cut quickly before it would become rancid, so I had but little choice to do it in front of him.
"And why would I have a reason to come out here other than to help my friend in her rather unconventional target practice?" he countered, the queasiness making his voice falter a little. It was rare that Lindir ever allowed himself to indulge in witty banter. He was over a century my senior and more concerned with his texts, ancient Middle Earth artifacts than childish prattle and on the occasion tending to Elrond, but in spite of the times that he did and his compassion, I considered him to be one of my closest friends.
"You scarcely leave the library let alone the comforts of Rivendell, unless it be of the utmost importance," I pointed out, eying him most curiously. "The wilds are not your sort of element and I know you don't hold my archery practice and hunting routines in high priority."
"Uma," he agreed, "you have caught me, aihini. Vanlle yassen amin?" He extended his hand in the direction that led out of the wild grounds from whence he came. (Indeed~Little child~Walk with me?)
Acquiescingly, I nodded, abandoning my afternoon hunting endeavor, with little disappointment. The Valar did not grant me the game I usually came home with on this day. But as I looked down at my stores of the meet and pelt I collected, I was slightly content. Hopefully, I didn't run into any of my occasional hunting companions upon my return. I couldn't put up with Elladan and Elrohir's ridicule at the moment, though the stag would be something to boast about to them.
As we walked past it, I yanked the arrow that missed Lindir by mere inches from the bark it punctured deeply, cleaning it with my mudded robes and returning it to my quiver. We walked abreast, treading cautiously over the awkward footing of the High Moors until we found ourselves back on the trail that descended back to Rivendell.
"So, why is it that you cut my hunting activity short today?" I inquired.
"The Lord Elrond desires to speak to you," he answered flatly, his gaze focused on the path ahead.
"Doesn't he always? Nothing good, I suppose," I commented. As if a day could go by without him lecturing me about someting, I thought with an inward smirk. "What does he wish to speak to me about? Is this to do with swathing Elrohir's horse in oil?" I suggested, stifling my laugh at the memory of Elrohir's saddle sliding underneath his mare. "Well, I cannot honestly say he suffered the embarrassment undeservedly. He cheated me out of a silver buck the other day, denying that he had seen me approach it and ultimately took the credit for it. You know I don't let such an injustice be overlooked," I proclaimed, dramatically up in arms over the trivial ordeal and huffing exasperatedly. "Ai, he suffered only from the burning of his cheeks and the teases of his brother for an entire week, but his pride remained intact. Still wouldn't admit that he deprived me of my prize—" (Alas)
"Aihini—"
"All he had to say was that I ought to spend less time keeping my skirts off the ground and not let my prey stray so far from me, the rat…" I grumbled, kicking a loose stone in my path. Though I can now hold it over his head that one of the infamous sons of Elrond Half-Elven doesn't know how to properly ride a horse, I reminded myself, a triumphant grin twitching on one side of my lips, placating my frustrations.
"Avarnette." I realized that Lindir was a few paces behind me having halted in his tracks without notice, forcing me to stop in mine. His shimmering eyes beseeched for my sincerity, my full attention, calling me by my forename to stress how grave the matter actually was. "This does not concern a silly, juvenile trick. I plead for your thoughtfulness on this matter. Lord Elrond explicated that I should advise it of you."
Worry plastered on my face, I backtracked over to Lindir. "What matter of gravity are you referring to, mellon nin?" I whispered, a strange uneasiness underlining my tone. "What is going on?" (my friend)
Lindir lacked the ability to provide a proper response, his mouth parted readily, words resting on his lips, but ultimately withheld them. He did not speak at all and simply urged me forward down the path. I complied wordlessly, too lost in my ponderings, wondering the nature of these faceless, pressing matters and how I factored into them.
The light of day was drifting under a darker veil when we had reached the high halls of the Last Homely House. Our descent from the Moors had been a silent one. Questions were poised and ready to be spoken, but I discerned that Lindir did not have the answers to them, or was not sanctioned to give them. All the same, I found myself resenting him for it, though I knew it to be unfairly so. I had a deep aversion to being in the dark over anything. Quite simply, I wasn't built to endure suspense or wait for explanations from anyone whether I had any association with it or not. Some might have found this meddlesome and inconsiderate, but the fact of the matter was among elves no one was entitled to withhold the truth, especially at the expense of others.
Light glazed the freefalling water, magnifying the golden glow onto the burgundy rooftops below. All of Rivendell seemed to fall into a slumber of its own as the sounds of life gradually died, the people retreating into their homes as the birds and wildlife had, leaving only the sound of untamed rushing water to fill the air between the high hills.
As Lindir escorted me through the halls, I heard hushed chatter coming from around the corner, and a slight panic filled me at the recognition of the voices. Oh, no…
A couple of armed, dark-haired figures appeared, walking in synchronization beside one another. Their armor was criss-crossed and layered in crimson and gold lining, the plating that distinguished the Rivendell nobility. Two pairs of grey eyes found mine, the hint of mischief behind their silver color. "Aihini!" called one, his blissful tone hiding his ultimate intentions of embarrassment and torment. (Little child)
"The little hunter returns," said the other, his mouth twitching up in a smirk that I wanted so badly to wipe off with my bare hands.
I returned the greeting with a smile that did not hide my smugness, marching over with long—as long as I could physically manage—determined and proud strides. What with the unknown yet worrying circumstances that awaited me, I wanted to get this humiliation over with. "Aw, the terrible troublesome twosome returns," I remarked, stretching up on the tips of my toes—a humiliating inconvenience I had to deal with day by day—to engulf the brothers in an embrace.
"'Terrible' and 'troublesome,' you say? That is most ironic coming from her, wouldn't you say so, Elladan?"
"Indeed, toror', when we be in the presence of the Lady Mischief herself," replied Elladan, evaluating my short frame. (Brother)
"You flatter me, Elladan, truly," I countered in mock graciousness, my words as slow and sweet as honey. "But lest we forget, Elrohir, that some acts of mischief are not always without cause. And sometimes they serve as recompense for other actions in the most cumbersome and humbling ways, yes?"
As though the laughable event had occurred all over again, Elrohir's cheeks reddened fiercely, so apparent against his fair skin, lips twitching in one corner. Elladan and I shared in our laugh from both the horrifyingly comical sight before us and the recollection of the event when Elrohir's saddle slipped, Elrohir landing in an awkward dishevelment of robes and gear head first.
"How was the hunt today?" Elrohir inquired, unable to handle any more of this endless humiliation.
My laughter died along with my triumphant haughtiness as I glanced down at the string of rabbits in Lindir's hands and the salvage and hide of deer in my pack. "Um," I started, as the brother's followed my line of vision. "My trip was cut short," I hurriedly explained, my eyes desperately flicking to Lindir. My friend remained quiet, unwilling to partake in this childish exchange.
"Aihini," Elrohir tsked at me, shaking in head in mock disappointment. He laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder, puckering his lips, "You need not always create excuses for a poor outcome. Though I see you did manage to finally track down and catch a strike a silver buck of your own." (Little child)
I snarled at him, violently brushing his hand off my shoulders, eliciting derisive laughter from the brothers. Looking over my shoulder my cheeks flushed at seeing Lindir biting back a laugh of his own. I cursed them and all of their gender, holding all men responsible for this infuriating humiliation.
"If you will forgive me, my lords," Lindir spoke, reining in his amusement, "Lord Elrond is expecting us in the relic chambers.
"We shall accompany you," Elrohir informed and gestured his hand toward the open hall. We walked in stride, Elrohir at my right, and Elladan and Lindir following close behind. "We were seeking him ourselves, actually. We have to discuss our trek to the Woodland realm tomorrow."
"You're leaving? But you have just returned from your exploits in Gondor!" I protested, wincing shortly after the words escaped of their own accord. Curse this thoughtless tongue!
The companion to my right was taken aback at my sudden remark displeasure, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do I detect that our dear friend and sister had missed us?" Elrohir exchanged a playful glance behind with his brother.
"Ha!" I scoffed, quickly attempting to recover from my reckless comment. "You mistake my delight for dismay, Elrohir."
"Indeed brother," Elladan nodded ignoring my objection. Perhaps we should reconsider our leaving and stay a little longer."
"You presume much, brothers. I will be glad to be rid of your teasing remarks once again!" I declared, my head held high in defiance to his regretfully accurate claims. "In fact, I won't care if you do not return at all."
"As you say, Aihini," Elrohir granted, though a knowing look lingered on his upturned lips. (Little Child)
Ignoring his conceited mug, I deliberately steered the conversation away from the current topic as we ventured through the halls toward our destination. "What purpose do you have beyond the Ettenmoors?"
"Dealings in Mirkwood, negotiations," Elrohir shrugged indifferently.
"Anything important?" I inquired out of instinctive courtesy, a novel thing coming from me.
"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Aihini," Elladan piped up
I scoffed in irritation, though I did not press the matter. I cared little for the affairs of state. Fifty-two years of being Elrond's ward, being exposed to the art of politics was routine. I had come to find it tedious. Though they were bound by the responsibility to delve in it often, Elrohir and Elladan shared my same views of politics, giving us more incentive to indulge in our hunting activities, escaping into the unruly forests.
Lindir excused himself, taking my pack and my weapons along with my fallen quarry and disappearing down the stairs at the far end of the corridor as we stepped into the entrance hall to the gallery. But we did not enter for a heated conversation took place on the other side.
"The powers of foresight are not set in stone," I heard an exasperated male voice I recognized to be Elrond's from behind the door. "The future can be molded to our will if we see it so."
"You choose to deny what you have seen, what I have seen?" replied an unhurried and unfamiliar even voice. "This path is meant for her. It is not your place to withhold it from her."
"She is not yet ready, she is but a child!" Elrond's exasperated voice came.
"She is of two and fifty years," the feminine voice reminded him evenly, "hardly a child by any means, elf or not." There was a tense pause in which my breath hitched as it dawned on me who they were referring to.
Why were they discussing me, my future, in privacy without my presence or consent? Elrond had a right as my guardian, but not this…stranger. I exchanged glances with my two male companions, seeking answers, but they bore expressions of befuddlement that matched my own. "You have foreseen it yourself. You know what is to come, yet you would not voice this to her."
"Gorgmin anhe," I heard Elrond mutter grimly "He sinta kai tar ndorin. I fear she might be blinded by her yearning for adventure and her recklessness to realize the true dangers that await her." (I fear for her~She knows nothing beyond these lands.)
"If her heart and her skills are as strong as you say, she will grow to acclimate to those changes and learn how to overcome the challenges the path will beset her with. We must all accept transformations of the world around us with time, now more than ever. You must realize this as she will. Lle uum tampahe alaa. Lle lavehe detholar ." (You cannot keep her from growing. Let her heart decide for itself.)
There were no more words. The twin brothers and I jumped back in alarm when the door suddenly swung open, Lord Elrond stepped, with a tight line wedged between his brows. We could not find words of greeting or explanation as his violent dark eyes found each of our faces. Closing the door behind him, he looked to me.
"You may go in," he said, making a sharp gesture with his head at the door. He took a step toward the exit into the courtyards. "And, please, do make an effort to show some deference for once," he advised crossly. The look of impatience and exasperation unfading, he looked at his bemused sons. "Tulya," he uttered curtly to them, before marching out of the vestibule with uncharacteristically heavy steps (Come.)
Elladan, Elrohir, and I stared after Elrond's brusque exit in bewilderment. The younger elven lords looked back to me, conflicted looks forming on their identical faces. Though—unlike me—Elladan and Elrohir never dared to question or disobey their father, they were hesitant to leave my side after hearing the exchange that went behind the doors. I masked the swelling trepidation with feigned confidence with a small smile, "Kelllie, min nauva tereva," I said, gesturing my dismal. (Go, I'll be fine.)
They nodded slowly. Elrohir left, Elladan stepped backward toward the arch, stating, "We shall see your face at dinner, Aihini." (Little child)
Rolling my eyes at him as he departed, I stared at the empty archway, pondering on what had provoked such bitterness in Elrond. For certain I was highly accustomed to hearing Elrond address me in cautionary or scolding manner as a father would a child—as was the duty he was charged with as my guardian, though I made it most difficult for him. But never would he stalk off in such a hostile manner. Love, compassion, and concern would subtly color his words of warning and chastisement without fail. This time I could only detect frustration. What had pushed him to the brink of anger?
A more pressing question plagued my thoughts: what had he meant by "she is not yet ready?"
I turned my head to the entry that sealed an assortment of relics of Middle Earth, racked with a mixture of fret and curiosity at what awaited behind its wooden doors. Steeling myself for whatever was to come, I slipped through them.
The high ceilinged room was empty and barely lit, only memories of victory and loss occupying it, eerie shadows cast against their distinguished walls and weathered statues. I did not often find myself drifting into this room, harboring little to no interest in ancient history, but I could see that with its ghostly appearance I was glad to have avoided it.
Painted along the walls was the Siege of Barad-dûr, Isildur raising the broken hilt of Narsil toward the Dark Lord in a final desperate defense. Even in oil, Sauron's faceless appearance was ever sinister as he loomed over the terrorized young Gondor prince. I was near convinced that the painting was a looming specter of his departed existence, residing within.
"A time of deep sorrow, it was, even in victory."
Startled, I swiveled around to face the owner of the voice. My senses had not recognized a new presence in the room, as I saw only the relics and shadows, I realized the voice—feminine yet deep with age—did not ring in my ears but came from within as if it were a thought, but not one of my own will or making.
Around the stone statue that carried the broken bits of the legendary blade of Narsil, a figure bright in both color and presence stepped into view, an elleth in gleaming white with skin as flawless and fair as her garb (Elf maiden). Her eyes were sharp—without menace, but ever intimidating—as they narrowed onto mine. Her hands interlaced in front of her, unmoving. White blonde tresses cascaded in watertight, spiraling strands down her front and back. Every step she took was soundless, deliberate, and above all graceful as though she were hovering above the ground, her elaborate, shimmering white gown trailed in her wake as she approached me.
I sensed no ill will from her, but with every leisurely step she took toward me, my apprehension and guardedness grew.
The fair elleth smiled reassuringly, sensing my discomfort, "Antlle maure kai tuulo'amin, telella." (You need fear nothing from me, young one.) She stood in front of me fully, her frame a full head and a half higher than mine. Her hands fell to her sides, and she tilted her head slightly as she studied me. "Caellle atarlle elie en ataralle vanim, Heri Avarnette Deleånara," she observed, her words slick and deep, yet laced with sorrows that I could not help but recognize. (You have your father's eyes and your mother's beauty, Lady Avarnette Deleånara.)
"What do you know of my parents?" I inquired.
The elf lady spread a genuine smile, soft and reassuring to put my, instinctively apprehensive mind at ease. "Your father once served under me in the Lórien Guard, long before the legendary battles these walls speak of," she replied, making a vague gesture with her eyes at the paintings. "He was a passionate adanedhel with the finest skills of a warrior I had ever come to know. We were great friends for many centuries," she smiled in the retrospect, walking aimlessly and unseeingly toward the triumphant scene of Isildur wielding Narsil (Man). "His loyalty to my house was unparalleled among anyone in Lothlórien, so profound—" her gaze turned away from the masterpiece and back to me with a reminiscing smile "—he devoted his life to protect my daughter upon joining the Lord Elrond and marriage." (man)
Intently listening to every word, I came to the conclusion that I was in the presence of Lady Galadriel. Yet even with a face to match a name, I felt the discomfort and intimidation had grown further still.
Though the elf lady was entitled to evoke such ancient memories, some of which I had been familiar with myself, I felt a part of me envying and resenting her for it. Blessed she was to possess the millennia of friendship with my father, whereas I had none to speak of, no fond or fulfilling memories to share in.
"Your mother I had the pleasure of meeting once before she died. She was among the few humans I know in this world who held our beliefs in such high esteem, yet possessed a spirit most would consider to be reckless, one I believe you yourself have inherited," she smiled, mischief playing at the corners of her mouth, but the ounce of delight over the memory faded into sorrow soon after. "I grieved upon the word of their passing. You have my commiseration."
I shifted uneasily at her words but managed to bow my head slightly toward the elder elleth."Diolle, heri amin Galadriel." I could not bear to say any more, for my heart had grown weary at the absence and the many would-have-been years that were left to my imaginations had fate been kinder. (elf lady~Thank you, my Lady Galadriel.)
"Lord Elrond tells me you have followed in your father's footsteps in becoming a cuar and bear the skill of one who has spent hundreds of years refining it," Galadriel remarked, sensing my trepidation over the talk of my parents. (Archer.) "Quite remarkable for such a young elleth." (lady elf)
I chuckled softly at the flattery, wondering how Elrond managed to impart such esteem talk of my skills with a bow, when he only spoke of my recklessness, audaciousness, and impudence in my presence. "You must be mistaken then," I stated. "Lord Elrond isn't very generous when it comes to offering compliments of any kind, especially about me."
The Lady Galadriel offered asoft hum of a chuckle. "Yes, he did mention some criticisms of your audacity and fire as well as your incomparable aptitude for causing trivial distress. 'A force to be reckoned with' was my conclusion from the whole depiction."
"That, I am afraid, would be an overly generous assumption, Lady Galadriel," I said. Never had I imagined the Lady of Lórien to be in possession of even the slightest sense of humor, believing it would be beneath her to share in some. Even in all her renowned wisdom, she had the confidence that gave evidence to a carefree disposition, unlike Elrond who couldn't handle an innocent jest without a lecture to follow.
She exhaled a whisper of a laugh before her face fell grave again. "I do not assume, for it is that fortitude that makes the road ahead for you so fitting."
All amusement left my face, puzzlement now contorting it. "My lady, I fear I do not follow your meaning."
Galadriel, turned on her heel soundlessly, beginning to circle the room again, peering at the mural with a sober gaze. "What do you know of the great wizards of Middle Earth, Avarnette?"
I continued to stare at the Lady in bafflement. "Very little, I am afraid. I know a few of their names, but little else beyond that. Why?"
Galadriel peered at me out of the corner of her eye, her face blank. "The Grey Pilgrim travels west of Rhudaur into the rolling hills of the Arthedain," she explained solemnly. "His altruism has set him on a perilous path as he has taken on a great burden."
I tried not to let more of my perplexity surface on my countenance. I was well aware of the Lady of Lórien's supreme expertise in insight. And foresight. But I could not gather where this conversation was leading, or how any of it was relevant to me.
"I dread Gandalf is oblivious to the real dangers to this journey, and he will have neither the support nor the power required to overcome them," she informed me, sheer concern for the wizard clouding her eyes. "Middle Earth can neither suffer his loss nor the failure of this quest. Aid must be sent, before the greater and darker forces intervene."
"Then why not send a company of elves to his side?" I suggested, not knowing why she confided such bizarre matters to me in the first place. Did she not have the wisdom or the advisors for them?
Galadriel's expression fell slightly in dismay. "I fear the solution is not that simple," she admitted sadly, her gaze drifting unseeingly into the cracked and age marble floors. "The task at hand is not for elven soldiers and fighters, but for only one." I bit my lip in anticipation, uneasy about what next she had to speak of. "One who has as much to gain as she does to offer."
I took a guarded step back, tripping over your tongue, "S-She, my lady?"
"By the foresight the Valar has graced upon me, I have concluded that one person who be called to aid is you."
My eyes rounded wide, staring at the Lady Galadriel in disbelief. Nearly I had convinced myself that I had misunderstood her words, but the acuteness in the Lady of Lórien's told otherwise. "My Lady…I-I don't quite…understand—" Horror and bewilderment left me numb and near speechless.
"You are a capable archer, telella. Your years are few, yet from what Lord Elrond tells me you have the strength of one who is battle worthy." the elder lady reminded me, her tone resolute, yet reassuring. "Mithrandirwould be well protected with you at his side in the times ahead for him." (young one~Grey Pilgrim)
"Th-that's just it, you haven't informed me of what exactly it is I will be facing. What sort of burden would a prominently powerful wizard require additional protection?"
Galadriel smiled knowingly, "This quest requires more than power and years of experience. It necessitates no small amount of courage and heart, both of which are your more distinct and prevailing qualities."
"Why are you evading my question?" I queried suspiciously, losing some of my former deference, though it wasn't unjust. She was suggesting that I would leave my home, offer my skills and my life to some random stranger without some clue as to what I would be encountering. The nerve! Even for a noble, elderly elf lady.
"I cannot offer you more than I have said. Gandalf himself tries to keep the shaping of his plans concealed, for fear of other eyes with ill intent discovering them."
"But you know what it is he intends," I discerned, raising a brow at her. "Surely, you would not send someone into the reaches of hazard without some foreknowledge of what was to come. You are known for your prescience, are you not?"
"I have my suspicions," Galadriel allowed. "But I cannot say more than that. It is best that you discover the truth for yourself."
My arms folded in front of my chest indignantly. "Why should offer my aid when I know not what it will be used for? Tell me my lady, where is the sense in that?"
Galadriel, patient and kind ignored my impudence. "Gandalf has lived through every age of this ever changing world, and his prudence is one to be heeded. He would not risk his own life for a cause if he did not see it as just or noble. Does that not comfort you?"
"Perhaps," I grumbled. I hated this. I hated not having a clue as to what I would be doing. "Elrond knows what is to come and he does not agree to this willingly from what I have heard."
"You are his ward," she reminded me. "You are a daughter to him by every meaning of the word other than in blood. He would keep you here to give him the insurance of your safety." A warm feeling mixed with joy and sadness swelled in my heart at her words. "But he does not desire to admit that you are a grown elleth (elf lady). That you are entitled to make choices for yourself now. He would not send you anywhere from his sights by his will."
I bit my lip contemplatively. Though there were many indefinite and strange factors to the opportunity being presented to me, I couldn't deny I felt a slight inclination to utter a "yes" out of spontaneous desire. But fear kept the word at bay.
Sensing my conflict, Galadriel pressed the matter. "You recall that your mother was of noble blood?" she inquired, receiving a silent nod from me, disinterested in hearing more tales of my mother that would only augment my bitter mood. "Born in Rohan, a demure woman, willing to let the world shape her as it pleased. But when her family was slaughtered in an orc raid, she had changed. She was no longer the modest and submissive woman she was raised to be. Retribution called her out to the world, a long dormant need for adventure had awoken in her. She was never the same. She found her place among the Rangers."
"Yes, I know the story," I said more curtly than I had intended.
Galadriel was not daunted by my shortness and maintained that deep and even tone. "Does that same spirit not stir within you?"
I paused at her words, unable to deny them. Elrond had spoken—well bitterly grumbled, more specifically—several times how I was the spitting image in both appearance and nature of my mother. In those moments he would recall how her home was never in one place. Always he found her being carried off in the wind with the whispers and promises of adventure luring her away from this sanctuary.
In the High Moors when I could gaze over the hills and mountains that enveloped Rivendell, I saw the untamed stretch of forest. I pictured myself travelling their uncultivated roads, to walk in the shadows of foreign trees, to see the sunset in from different heights. I never dared set foot into the wild, for fear of the unknown creatures and unkind nature of the world. But my curiosity and desire for exploration never subsided. And now an adventure called, a chance to sate my wonderment and years of imagination of the world that waited beyond.
"When?" I muttered to Galadriel.
"You will depart Rivendell before the break of day, use your hunting expertise to trace the wizard among the green hills, and offer your assistance to whatever end he may require."
I hesitated at the brevity of time between now and my departure, having so little time to prepare to leave my homeland, to bid farewell to loved ones. "And what if he refuses?" I pointed out, now having reached the point where I would have exploited any excuse I could conceive. "What if he turns me away?"
Galadriel hummed her deep, almost inaudible chuckle, "Gandalf will certainly have reservations about an elleth accompanying him, I do not doubt that. He would not dare rebuff support so long as he knew the Lady of Lórien sent it his way."
"I know of nothing beyond the Rhudaur," I admitted sadly, my trepidation as plain as my reluctance.
Galadriel stepped forward, reaching out for one of my hands, and rested it between hers. Her gaze was sincere yet heartening. "Talella, for the fifty-two years you have breathed the fickle air of this ever-changing world, you have sought contentment, you have sought purpose, to make whole of the void that weighs heavily on your heart." She gave a tender squeeze to my hand. "Your spirit is a force not meant to be contained within these hills, within all that it knows. It yearns to seek out truths and exploration, to form its own perception of the world beyond. Why do you recoil and deny your heart that chance?" (young one)
Pursing my lips firmly in attempt to fight back the sorrow wrenched in my core, her words rang true. "Gaheno nin, my lady," I whispered woefully, unable to look at her. "I doubt neither your wisdom nor your ability. The doubt, I am afraid, resides in myself. The unknown overwhelms me. If you'll forgive me I do not fancy leaving anything to fate or the words and promises of others" (Forgive me.)
"You fear this journey, that is to be expected, but it should not hinder you from doing as your heart wills. The road ahead be wrought with perils and strange notions, but it will have purpose, and it will no doubt change you," Galadriel added with a despondent tone. "This path however is yours to walk, and none other's."
Deliberating over Galadriel's words, I stepped away, not desiring to feel the strain under her stare. My heart both jumped and twisted at the thought of leaving Rivendell behind, to venture beyond its cascades of water, the great rooms, the ever colorful and varying trees, its serenity…But I could not deny there had always been a force just beyond the horizon that beckoned to me, to risk a glimpse of what lay beyond the eerie Misty Mountains, to see the world my father and mother had traveled.
Galadriel was right. Though my heart would always find a permanent place of solace and belonging in Rivendell, my spirit was not passive one, not meant to be contained, but freely roaming. Indeed, the thought of offering my bow and my life on a mission that had yet to be disclosed to me was a frightening one, but at the same time I felt myself admitting that one was not meant to walk the path of life only dealing in absolutes, but occasionally chancing at delving in the mysteries of life.
My eyes trailed back to the wall mural, noting the well expressed look of terror in the son of the king. Even in sorrow, even in fear, a single act by a single person had changed the course of the future forever. A single person. A single drop of rain can raise the waters of the ocean. Perhaps my role in this mysterious quest could be of the very same nature.
I sighed in defeat, coming to my decision and returned my attention to the Lady Galadriel. I was half-surprised to find that she was smiling, having already been aware of my choice. "And so you shall go, talella," she tilted her head in a subtle bow of respect (young one). "I must advise that you gather what bare necessities you wish to take with you and offer your farewells hastily, you must leave at the first sign of light in the East come morning."
"Of course," I nodded in understanding. "I can only pray that your foresight of my purpose does not eventually lead you astray, Lady Galadriel," I said solemnly.
She smiled in amusement. "As you said: you should not doubt me."
Descending the stairs mechanically, I restrung my vambraces for the umpteenth time, ridiculously worried that they would somehow come loose. Without cease I was constantly checking my garb, my breast plate, my weapon stores, and every inch of me in case I had neglected to forget something or correct the slightest imperfection. Trembling hands attempted to crisscross strings along my forearm, unstable from fatigue and apprehension. My heart pounded in my chest as I left my quarters in the high structures of Rivendell, though I found no sufficient amount of comfort to sleep. My mouth felt uncharacteristically dry as though I had not tasted water for a week. My legs were unusually numb, operating of their own accord, but subject to collapse at any moment from my weariness.
At the foot of the stairs was the courtyard, the Bridge of Rivendell that would carry me from my home to the strange world beyond branching from it over the waters of Imladrus. The dappled gray horse Elrond provided for me waited at the far end of the patio, tail swishing at the pesky flies lingering along its spotted flank. Waiting at the foot of the stairs I was surprised, albeit pleased to find two elves waiting for me.
"Arwen! Elrond!" I called in the most cheerful tone I could manage at the time. "Come to see me off have you? No doubt you're eager to be rid of me."
"Not of you," Lord Elrond admitted in an even tone., "just some of the qualities I could very much do without."
"Oh, but would your life be nearly as interesting without my obstinacy and my clever wit?" I jested, my mouth twisted up in a smirk.
Not dignifying the question with a reply, Elrond sighed in disapproval stepping away from his daughter and I and moving toward the horse with his hands interlinked behind his back. Arwen and I exchanged amused glances, though often she warned me of getting on her father's nerves, she couldn't deny that she got some small amount of hilarity out of the interactions.
I followed Elrond over to the horse. The robust stallion pricked his ears at me in recognition, a emitting a throaty whicker as I extended my hand to him. "Aaye, Aegnor," I whispered as his velvet nose pressed into my palm, inhaling my familiar scent, the tassels on his bridle swishing in front of his gentle almond eyes in the quiet breeze (Hello).
"I thought an old friend would give you some amount of solace along the journey," Elrond explained, running a hand over the silvery crest of the horse's neck. Appreciatively, I nodded at him, tightening and readjusting Aegnor's tack as I saw fit. Elrond reached beneath his silver robes, pulling out a rolled paper, wrapped in string. "Since you are unfamiliar with the Arthedain, I suggest you heed the charts beyond Amon Sûl. I don't want you losing your way."
"Aw, your concern is most touching Elrond," I teased, a mock pout pursed on my lips.
The elder lord said noting, but emitted a soft groan of annoyance. I could not help my sarcasm. It was a norm for me and I wanted to take in as much of it as I could before I departed, for I was certain to go through withdrawals in my daily goal of making my guardian's life a living hell. I took the map from him, unraveling it. It was finely detailed, accounting for most of the region between the Misty Mountains and the Ered Luin. "Diolle, heru amin," I tilted my head to the side in a slight bow. (Thank you, my lord.)
"The Lady of Lórien believes Gandalf rides along the Great Eastern Road. Do not travel on open paths, however," he cautioned. "Stay in the shelters of the trees as much as you are able."
My brows knitted together, about to question why concealment of myself suddenly became essential, but he did not allow the chance as he went on imparting his instructions to me. Only to add to the mystery of this whole escapade, I thought to myself, exasperated.
"The wizard makes for the Shire. If you ride through the night with haste you will likely happen upon him before he reaches the village of Bree."
"How will I know if I see him?" I inquired, rerolling the map and securing on my person.
Elrond, most uncharacteristically let out a soft chuckle. "Gandalf is not one for subtlety in appearance," he explained, a reminiscing smile crept upon his lips. "I doubt that many carry bulky wooden staffs wearing pointed grey hats in those parts."
"Ah," I nodded, struggling to picture the wizard in my head by Elrond's description.
Elrond glanced over his shoulder to the East and frowned. "Dawn is upon us," Elrond observed, accounting for the fade of stars. "The Lady Galadriel urged me to not to let you delay your journey."
I turned away from him, rubbing soothing yet tremulous circles along Aegnor's flank. My lips pursed contemplatively, the lightheartedness of our conversation had abruptly departed altogether, washing me of my confidence and filling me with the dread that I awakened with on this day.
The warmth of Elrond's hand covered my own, hamper obstructing its course along the fur. "This burden does not have to be yours," Elrond reminded me, his heavy aged eyes seeking to look deep within me, to see if my mind was truly up to the task and pleading for my reconsideration.
My heart boasted at his genuine concern. Behind all his seriousness and criticism, he reserved his natural affection and care for me, one that after the half a century of being subjected to his ranting lectures was never so apparent or indisputable until now. "I know you had seen it yourself, Lord Elrond. This is a path the Valar has granted me, revealed through the gifts of the Lady of Lórien and yourself." I paused, shifting my weight on feet, biting my lip. "It would be foolish to disregard these signs. Who am I to dispute this?"
Elrond's raised a single skeptical brow. "Since when does the independent and strong willed young Avarnette heed the will of her superiors?" Elrond questioned, his tone hinting at an atypical lightheartedness.
Sharing in the blissful moment, I offered him a humorless yet saddened look. "Since I felt that I cannot deny that my heart is being drawn to this opportunity," I admitted in earnest. "You once said that my mother was a restless spirit and that I very much bear that same erratic nature. I've always known that I sought a reason to venture beyond this refuge and I cannot yield now when my resolve is at its greatest."
A smile that mixed both sadness and pride crept on Lord Elrond's face. "Then I shall not attempt to sway you further," he conceded, sighing as though he had hoped I would submit. His eyes flickered unnaturally as they bore into mine a moment longer. I couldn't admit to myself that the Lord Elrond was capable of shedding tears, but as he drew me into an embrace, I sensed the melancholy overwhelming him and that my resolve was nothing more than a bravado to appease him, keeping him discouraging my already precarious confidence.
I felt my heart breaking all over again. As Rivendell was the only home I had known, Elrond—with his high standards and his incessant chastising—and his sons and daughter were the only souls I had learned to call family. More than ever I was becoming aware that I was not simply venturing into the unknown, I was relinquishing—temporarily or permanently—all that I had ever known. The thought frightened me, a chilling sensation rushing through my blood. If Elrond continued to hold me in the tender grip as he did, my illusion of valor would crumble in his arms.
As if the Valar had willed it to relieve my heart, Elrond's grip loosened, but not releasing me until he whispered, "Your home and loved ones will await your return, hin amin." He stepped away planting a tender kiss upon my forehead as he did. "Do not let your confidence compromise your safety," he advised lightheartedly, stepping backwards. (my child)
"My confidence is not ailment," I assured him, flashing a mischievous grin, "'tis aid."
He eyed me with disapproval at my unfailing conceit before turning on his heel, exchanging a glance with his daughter as he departed up the same stone stairs I had descended earlier. My eyes trailed him, a whole gaping in my heart as the sight of him disappeared altogether. I sighed deeply, almost regretting the insincerity of my last words to him.
My eyes fell to Arwen, a generous smile poised on her full red lips. Her crimson and ivory dress billowed in the gentle breeze. Her hair swept around her face, framing her ever delicate, pleasing features. I never envied Arwen's beauty, for it was an outward display of the passive and thoughtful heart the Valar had blessed her with, not the kind of temperament I could find myself ever living up to, nor did I desire to.
"Elladan and Elrohir departed this morning," she informed me. "Adar would not permit them to delay their departure to see you off, though I believe it was more to your benefit to spare you of further sadness." (father)
I nodded in agreement, recalling their vacant stares as the silence hung over us at the dining table last night. "It was probably for the best. Though I could have used their wit and encouragement to alleviate these anxieties," I added.
"Though they do not know what it is you will face, they have every confidence in you and your abilities, and said as much before departing."
"Elladan and Elrohir said that?" I questioned. "That I do not believe."
"Their egos may be too inflated to ever say it to your face, but I speak the truth. They believe the Valar has put you on the path of your calling," Arwen remarked, walking over to me.
I breathed a short laugh, "I would not deem it a calling when I know not what it is I will be doing or where I will go. For all I know I might be keeping an elderly wizard from breaking his back, cook his meals or trim his beard."
Arwen laughed, letting herself have this brief moment of levity before our parting. She was never one to dwell in sorrows. She had an unequaled talent for carrying and spreading hope that would constantly counter my pessimism. "The clarity will grow with time, rest assured," Arwen promised. "The Lady of Lothlórien is scarcely wrong in her wisdom and foresight. Do not doubt her."
"I don't," I said, shaking my head. "It's just…I hate being unaware."
Arwen's bright smile spread further. "Indeed. But you should remember not to doubt yourself either, Avarnette. You have the blood of both man and elf. That alone will be enough as you face what is to come," she said, reaching for my hand. "Your heart is true and your spirit is strong. No matter what lies beyond this refuge, you will overcome it. Caelamin-dur enlle." (I have every faith in you.)
"Sut kelamin avaene lle dur en amin? " (How can I go on without your reassurance?)
"Despite your youth, you carry the confidence of one-hundred men. It will be strength enough. Remember that," she assured me, offering my hand another squeeze. "May the Valar watch over you, seler'." (Sister.)
We shared in a tight embrace, my eyes beginning to sting as I suppressed bitter tears. Arwen stepped away, watching as I mounted Aegnor. We shared a final poignant gaze before she trekked up the stairs in her father's wake.
I encouraged myself not to linger, for allowing my dwelling in the separation would further deter me. I reorganized the braided reins in my fingers and offered a few words of reassurance to the gray stallion shifting restlessly beneath me, though I felt the words were more for my own comfort.
"May the road ahead be a safe one, talella. Do not let yourself be blinded by notions of hate." (young one)
Though I knew she was not present, my eyes wept the courtyard to see if I was truly alone. A part of me thought the voice was a figment of imagination, but deep inside, I felt Galadriel's words of caution ring of palpable concern, though I didn't have a single clue as to what they meant. For now I did not ponder on them, for the golden light of sun stretched from the eastern Misty Mountains into the sky, hastening my departure.
"Autalaya, Aegnor," I whispered. (Forward.) Aegnor, stubbornly tested the bit jerking his head a few times in the air, awkwardly stepping backwards until he finally submitted into my hands, arched his neck and leapt forward into a steady canter, progressing toward the hills with long strides.
I allowed him to stretch his legs as we ascended the ridge along the hillside, leaning forward as he leapt over small runs of water that slid down the mountainside, and thoughtfully keeping his attention on me, restraining his willfulness that challenged my own. Reaching the top of the ridge, I sat deep in my seat, slowing the horse into a halt.
Mindlessly playing with my bow string that crossed over my chest, I allowed some of my sorrows to manifest in the form of tears as I took in my home. I cast a long gaze at the province nestled between the mountains, its hills, the grand houses, the rivers and foliage that altogether gave Rivendell its tranquil charm. The rush of water, the sound of breeze cutting through the abundance of trees, the dancing of stray leaves in every color, the finely carved stone, the music of the festivals, the twittering of life. Every sound, sight, and sensation that I suddenly found myself evoking would be gone, nothing more than a memory.
It might not be the last time, I tried to reassure myself, though pessimistic nature beat back the overwhelming swell of hope within me. But it was a possibility, just not one I could count on.
Golden light rolled over the life of Rivendell, glazing the silver top of Aegnor's mane, and seeping to my eyes harshly, forcing them away from the province as though the it was urging me to get on with my leaving
The gaping wound that grew from my core felt stretched to its fullest as I forced my hands to direct Aegnor away from Rivendell, a conflict raging within as to whether or not I should discount the chance that it might be the last time I would gaze at its majesty.