A/N: Greetings readers! I have recently updated all of the chapters present, as I have learned more about the Elvish language since originally uploading the chapters. I've gone through the whole story and replaced all of the flawed Elvish with what it should be, and given handy translations at the ends of sentences. As always, I own nothing you recognize from either book or film, despite wishing heartily that I did. Basically anything familiar belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and his estate. Not many original characters abound, save for our leading lady, Luthiel. I hope you enjoy the edits, and leave reviews!
It is said some lives are linked across time, connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages…
Prologue~ Descendant
(August 1, 3000 III)
The sky throughout the Shire had just begun to be painted with the colors of dusk when a single horse and rider was spotted flying across the plains. The horse rode as swiftly as an eagle flies, and the rider faltered not once as the pair neared Buckland. On the borders of Buckland, the Dúnedain were well aware of the pair that hastened towards them. Halbarad, the second in command of the Dúnedain, ordered for a perimeter.
When the rider was half a league from the entrance of the forest, Halbarad ordered his riders out to surround him. The rider didn't slow his pace as the twelve Dúnedain surrounded him on their horses, but he kept riding with all haste until he reached the entrance to the forest, where Halbarad stood with twenty other men, wielding bows notched with arrows, ready to fire.
"Halt! I am Halbarad, Captain of these lands! State your purpose quickly or find an arrow in your chest."
"Surely it has not been so long that you do not recognize a friend," the rider said, drawing back his hood. There, before all of the Rangers present, was Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain. Those standing took a knee, bowing to their Chieftain, while those on horseback bowed their heads.
"Forgive me Chieftain, I did not think to look for you. Please, break your journey for but a few words." Halbarad said to his friend and leader. Aragorn shook his head, dismounting.
"I am afraid I cannot, old friend. I stop but for one thing," Aragorn said, moving his riding cloak so that those around him could see what he carried. There, lying contently in his arms, was a small bundle of fine silk. Halbarad drew closer and watched as Aragorn removed some of the silk, revealing an infant with slightly tipped ears.
"M-my Lord?" Halbarad asked, confused and nervous.
"Halbarad, I have a task for you."
"Yes my Lord?"
"I ask you to raise this child. Will you keep her secret, keep her safe? Will you be able to lie to this child?"
"M-my Lord…I do not think I understand?"
"Halbarad," Aragorn said seriously, his grey eyes locking onto those of his lieutenant, "Take my daughter, and see to it that she knows nothing of her origins." he said darkly. Halbarad's eyes widened and he shook his head.
"M-my Lord…y-your what? Surely…but the lady Arwen…" he muttered.
"Halbarad!" Aragorn thundered. Halbarad was drawn from his musings by his Chieftain's bark and the sound of the child starting to wail. He turned to Aragorn and met his eyes. The Chieftain's eyes were bleary with unshed tears, and there was such a look of pleading, of begging in the green depths that Halbarad was startled.
"Please…" Aragorn rasped. "Please my friend…she cannot know. She must never know. The days are dark of late. This is…for her own good." he said, looking away from Halbarad's eyes and away from his fretting child. He began to whisper to the girl and rock her gently, trying to quell her tears. Halbarad reached forward and Aragorn hesitantly placed the babe into his arms.
"If by my life or death I must carry out your order, my Chieftain…I will." he said, tenderly wrapping the girl back in her silken bundle. It was no blanket she was swaddled in, but a fine Elvish cloak.
"T-thank you…thank you, Halbarad." Aragorn choked out. He looked to the child once more and touched the bundle with the utmost love and care. Halbarad looked down at the baby and couldn't imagine the pain the Chieftain was experiencing at having to give up his child.
"Lúthiel," Aragorn said.
"Chieftain?" Halbarad asked softly.
"Lúthiel…her name is Lúthiel, for her ancestor who gave her immortality for the mortal man she loved." Aragorn looked up at the sky in sorrow. Never had he imagined such a pain. She was only three months old, and the thought of loving someone so much after so little time bewildered him.
"Yes, Chieftain…I know the story. I shall guard her with my life, and treat her as though she were my own. But—with all due respect my Lord—you truly wish for her to know nothing of you, of her mother?"
"Nothing, Halbarad. She can know nothing of where she comes from. If the enemy…I can't even think what would happen should the enemy find not one heir of Numenor, but two. No Halbarad, she must grow in ignorance of her origins."
"Yes, my Lord. Will you never come to see her then?"
"No, Halbarad, I shall come see her. I shall be her Chieftain as I am yours, nothing more. Nothing more…" Aragorn said, pain painted on his features as he turned from his child.
"I must go now, before—I must go." he said gruffly, climbing atop his steed. As he saluted his Dúnedain, he looked down at Halbarad.
"See that she is loved, Halbarad. That is all I ask. Loved and protected."
"Yes, Chieftain, I won't fail you, or Lady Arwen." With that, Halbarad bowed and Aragorn was off. As he watched his Chieftain ride off, Halbarad held the infant girl in his arms and wondered about the future of the girl.
Lúthiel…
(May 1, 3007 III)
"Hab?" the young Lúthiel asked from where she was perched in the saddle in front of Halbarad. He smiled at the nickname she had called him all her life and nodded.
"Yes Lúthiel?"
"Where are we going?"
"We are going to Imladris, the realm of the Elves."
"Why are we going to the Elves?" Lúthiel asked, though not without a small amount of elation and joy. Long had she been fascinated by the stories of Elves and eagles, of dragons and of dwarves in their caves. Halbarad had read to her since the first night he had her, not knowing what else to do with an infant.
"The Chieftain's mother, Lady Gilraen…she has died."
"The Chieftain has a mother?" she asked incredulously. She had never met the Chieftain but she had heard all the stories that Halbarad could tell her of him. The riders around them chuckled lightly.
"Yes little one, he did."
"Is he sad, Hab?"
"I expect so, but that does not mean you must be sad. When we think of death, we should think of peace, little one." For a time, Lúthiel was silent and Halbarad was at peace as well. Then, she began to stir and fidget on the horse.
"Hab?"
"Yes Lúthiel?" Halbarad sighed good-naturedly.
"Was Lady Gilraen an Elf? I thought Elves don't die?"
"No, Lady Gilraen was not an Elf. And yes, Elves can die. They are immortal, Lúthiel, which means they will live forever should nothing mortally harm them. Elves do not die of old age."
"I would like to be an Elf I think." Lúthiel said, and resituated herself in the saddle. "Living so long…I bet I'd have some wonderful adventures."
"Aye, I supposed you would." Halbarad answered, subdued.
Lúthiel began to fiddle with the skirt of the dress Halbarad had forced her into after much arguing. He had argued long and hard to get her into a pair of slippers or boots, but had lost that battle. The child was forever running around bare of foot. Halbarad closed his eyes tightly for a moment and then shook his head just slightly.
"Captain," Halbarad looked up from his musings to find a host of Elves standing to greet them before the gates of Imladris.
"Mae govannen, mellyn nín. [Welcome, my friends.]" said a tall Elf with dark hair.
"Who is he, Hab?" Lúthiel whispered, clutching at Halbarad's arms for safety amidst these strangers.
"I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Please, allow us to accompany you into the city so your horses might be tended to." the Elf said cordially. He kept looking at Lúthiel though, with a strange blankness that made her feel self-conscious.
"Come Lúthiel, let us go see the Chieftain and the Elves." Halbarad said, offering her his arms so that she might slide from the saddle instead of jump. She gladly took his offer and he continued to hold her hand as they walked into the city lead by the Elves.
"Chieftain," Halbarad and the other Dúnedain said as the Chieftain came into view. They all took a knee before the tall man, and Lúthiel followed suit, or did the best she could in a dress.
"My friends, please stand." Aragorn spoke gently. He had barely noticed who all had come, for his eyes had gone straight to the girl beside Halbarad. When she stood from kneeling, he saw her full height. She was tall for her age, long-limbed and awkward, as he had been at that age. Her hair was long and midnight-black, falling to her shoulder blades in twisted curls and waves. He noticed she was barefoot, which made him want to smile. She had neat, straight dark eyebrows that raised inquisitively at him, and her eyes…her eyes were the same grey as his own.
"My Lord, may I present my charge, Lúthiel Lómelindi. Lúthiel, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain." Halbarad said, standing and placing a hand on Lúthiel's shoulder. Again, she knelt in respect, but stood again to look up into her father's face.
"I know your face." she said, dark brows knitting in confusion.
"And how is that, little one?" Aragorn asked, kneeling himself so that she was his equal in height.
"In my dreams. I have seen you with a white tree, a green stone, and a sword once broken." Lúthiel said, staring into the grey-green depths of her father's eyes. Aragorn stood, unable to be so close to her without touching her.
"Well, I have seen you in my dreams as well little one. You are just as beautiful now that I see you, as you were in those dreams." Lúthiel smiled at Aragorn and she slid her hand into his.
"I'm sorry your mother died, Lord Chieftain. I don't have a mother either." she said.
"I…" Aragorn was stunned at the young girl's empathy. It pained him more than his own mother's death to think that his daughter didn't know her mother. It pained him more still to be so close to her, touching her, and not being able to tell her everything.
"Thank you, little flower. Halbarad, will you walk with me for a bit?"
"Who will watch over Lúthiel?"
"I shall, if you wish." a voice said. Aragorn and Halbarad turned to see a tall, handsome Elf with golden hair, all clad in the colors of the forest.
"Legolas, your presence brings me joy. Hannon lle, mellon nín. [Thank you, my friend.]" Aragorn said, clasping the Elf's forearm with his hand. Legolas greeted him the same way and bent his head to him.
"I am sorry for your loss, mellon nín."
"Halbarad, this is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, an old friend of mine. Legolas, this is Halbarad, Captain of the Dúnedain." Halbarad bowed to the Prince, and Lúthiel watched the tall blonde Elf in awe. He bowed to Halbarad in turn, even though he was a Prince.
"Your hair is golden, not dark like the other Elves here. Why?" Lúthiel asked with one brow slightly raised. Legolas smiled and knelt down to be of equal height with Lúthiel.
"You must be Lúthiel."
"Yes, my Lord." she said, and bowed her head. When she looked up Legolas was smiling even wider.
"Well, are you going to tell me?"
"Yes little one, I shall. Would you like to walk with me while Aragorn and Halbarad speak of serious matters?"
"May I, Halbarad?" Lúthiel asked anxiously, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.
"Yes, but be nice." Halbarad intoned, giving her a significant look.
"I am always nice. Now come along, Prince." Lúthiel said, grabbing Legolas's hand and dragging him on a walk. Legolas tried not to laugh as he was dragged off by the little half-Elf. He slowly began to lead her towards the eternally autumnal gardens of Imladris.
"Now, my little friend, what would you have me tell you of the Elves?" Legolas asked as he lifted Lúthiel onto the edge of a fountain and she began to walk around it, their hands still entwined.
"You are not like the Elves here in…Imladris, are you?"
"No, I am from the Woodland Realm; Mirkwood it is called now, but once it was known as Greenwood the Great or Eryn Galen in the Sindarin. My father is King there."
"How many different kinds of Elves are there?"
"Well, that is a very long story to tell, one that starts far away from Middle Earth."
"I know the story of how the Elves came to Middle Earth. Halbarad tells me many stories of the Elves. He says my mother was an Elf."
"Yes, your mother i—was an Elf. Which makes you a Peredhil—a half Elf."
"I see things sometimes, in my dreams…" Lúthiel said softly, looking down into the cool waters of the fountain.
"What kind of things, little one?" Legolas asked, intrigued. He knew the story of Lúthiel's origins, who her parents were, and what a burden it was for them to not be with her. Arwen would not even come to Imladris for the burial ceremony of Gilraen, for she did not want to see her daughter and have to part with her again.
"I see a woman, I think she is my mother. She's very beautiful, and she looks like me. And I see the Chieftain. He knew my mother I think, and I think he cares for me deeply because of it."
"Yes, he does indeed. Many people care for you, Lúthiel. You should never feel alone, for there are many in this Middle Earth and beyond whose thoughts are filled with your face."
Lúthiel looked up at Legolas and smiled.
"You are going to be my friend someday, Legolas." Legolas smiled in return and nodded.
"If you would have my friendship, it is yours now and forever." He turned, having heard Aragorn somewhere far off saying that it was time to start the ceremony, and then looked back to Lúthiel. "I believe it is time to go pay our respects to the Lady Gilraen. Come, we can go past the great falls if you'd like."
"Oh yes please!" Lúthiel said as she jumped gracefully from the fountain and took the Elf Prince's hand again.
Lúthiel stood between Halbarad and Legolas and listened in bewildered sorrow as the Elves sang a beautiful lament for Gilraen. She felt tears slide down her cheeks, but could not reason why she felt such sorrow for a woman she did not know.
"What are they singing?" Lúthiel whispered up to Legolas. Legolas, though he had been standing stoically before in respect for the mourners and the Lady Gilraen, knelt down and began to translate the lament.
"I saw a star rise high in the evening sky. It hung like a jewel, softly shining. I saw a star fade in the evening sky. The dark was too deep and so light died, softly pining. For what might have been, for what never was, for a life long lived, for a love half given. You are not bound to loss and silence. For you are not bound to the circles of this world. All things must pass away, all life is doomed to fade. Sorrowing you must go, and yet you are not without hope." he whispered softly.
Lúthiel felt more hot tears seer her cheeks, and sobs were burning the back of her throat, but Legolas's words soothed her sorrow some, and she looked to the Chieftain, to Aragorn son of Arathorn, and son of Lady Gilraen.
"Come, it is time to offer a blessing to Aragorn," Halbarad told her, placing his strong, warm hand on her back. Lúthiel needed little more encouragement than his words, for she surged forth to Aragorn and knelt at his feet.
"M-my Lord, I am s-sorry for your l-loss," she said softly, sobs breaking her speech, "M-may Lady G-Gilraen walk t-the halls of Mandos i-in peace." Lúthiel started when she felt a hand lifting her chin, and looked up into the bleary eyes of her Chieftain. He took her hands in his and kissed them gently, then looked at her again from where he was kneeling.
"Would that she had known you, little flower. Would that she could have seen how lovely and how kind your heart is, for one you did not even know." he said softly. Lúthiel felt the urge to hug him, and so she let her arms come up and she stood so that she could hug him fully even as he knelt. Aragorn wrapped his arms around his small daughter and closed his eyes, imagining what life could have been with her.
"Hannon lle, tithener. [Thank you, little one.]" he whispered, holding her tightly, but gently in his arms. He let go swiftly and stood though, knowing that if he held on any longer, he would not let go again.
"I thank you, little one, for your kind words." he said, and then turned to Halbarad. Lúthiel felt lost for a moment, not being able to speak to or to touch Aragorn anymore, but she felt a soft hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Legolas there with an approving—if not slightly sad—smile on his thin lips.
"Well spoken, little one." he said softly, wiping her cheek for her, then turning to Aragorn as well. He kept his hand open though, and Lúthiel slid hers into it as they stood together in comfortable silence. When Halbarad finally turned about, he found Lúthiel staring up at Legolas with admiration and a soft smile.
"Lúthiel, shall we go see to our stomachs?" Halbarad asked, sweeping her up into his arms. Lúthiel nodded and laid her head against his chest. As the two walked off towards the Great Hall, Aragorn and Legolas looked after them.
"Hen bain, mellon nín. [She is beautiful, my friend.]"
"Thand. She looks like her mother. [True/Yes.]"
"She looks like you." Legolas said, placing his hand on Aragorn's shoulder.
"I miss her, even though I never had her…"
"That is not hard to believe. She is your child, Aragorn."
"She is Halbarad's…"
"She is yours, Aragorn. And I think she may know it, or suspect it." Aragorn turned to Legolas and furrowed his brows.
"She spoke to me of strange dreams she has. She has seen Arwen in those dreams, and knows or suspects she is her mother. Your painted life will wash away should the two ever meet."
"I do not think that will happen. Arwen…could not bear seeing her today. I do not think she will ever see her…"
"She will, mellon nín. And one day, you will not need to fear for her."
"Let us hope that day comes sooner, rather than later." Aragorn said, patting his friend's shoulder.
Lúthiel sat sleepily in the saddle, waiting for Halbarad to mount behind her and for them to ride back to Buckland. She blinked sleep from her eyes and hid a yawn in her cloak.
"Goodbye, little one. May our paths meet again." Legolas' voice said from her right. Lúthiel turned and smiled. Legolas took her hand and kissed it, then bowed to her. At this, she laughed and shook her head.
"Goodbye, Legolas. And don't fret, we shall see each other again." Lúthiel said, sure of her words. Legolas smiled and walked to say farewell to Halbarad. It was then that Lúthiel saw Aragorn approaching her slowly with a soft look on his face.
"My Lord," Lúthiel said, bowing her head.
"There's no need for the formalities, little one. I've come to say farewell, and," he pulled a small parcel from a pocket somewhere in his over-tunic, "to give you this. In the swarm of mourners I forgot to wish you a very happy birthday, Lúthiel."
"How…how did you know?"
"I know all there is to know," Aragorn said secretively and with a smirk. "About all of my Rangers. Here, this is for you." he said, placing the small wrapped parcel in her hand.
"Open it when you are alone, and keep it close Lúthiel."
"Yes, my L—yes, Aragorn." Lúthiel said with a smile. Aragorn leaned up and kissed her cheeks, then wished her a final farewell and turned to do the same for his other Dúnedain.
Lúthiel crept from her bed in the softly growing light of the dawn, and she pulled her cloak on, leaving her feet bare as always. She had never worn a pair of shoes, for she could feel the earth's breath better without them. Lúthiel made no noise as she languidly slid from the small home she shared with Halbarad, and when she reached her destination—the small stable the Captain kept his horse in—she slowed and crawled inside an empty stall.
There, Lúthiel lit a candle and placed it on the ground. She pulled the parcel Aragorn had given her out and read the writing on the wrapping again.
For a little flower, may many birthdays follow this. You are always in my thoughts. –Aragorn.
Lúthiel gingerly slid her finger underneath the seam of the wrapping and peeled it open. Beneath the wrapping was a plain wooden box, which she took the top off of. What lay inside made her breath catch loudly, and she covered her mouth. There, on a pillow of blue velvet, lay a small silver knife—no longer than her forearm—hilted in black leather with the insignia of a tree on the pommel.
Inside was a small card which read, "Keep this with you always, and learn its uses well."
Lúthiel took the weight of the knife in her hand and turned it over and again. She ran her finger over the hilt and traced the tree there, feeling a sense of calm come over her as she did so. Beneath the pillow was a black sheath which was also decorated with the same tree. Lúthiel slid the knife into the sheath, and strapped it to her calf where it rested comfortably.
Lúthiel blew out the candle, crept carefully back to the little house she shared with Halbarad, back into her little room, and to her little bed; her little head was filled with grand things. She was being protected by the Chieftain of the Dúnedain. She had made a new Elven friend. She had seen Imladris, the city of the Elves.
She had had a grand birthday…
(October 18, 3018 III)
Lúthiel urged her mount on in great haste behind Glorfindel, the Elf who was leading her to the Halflings, and the Chieftain.
"I can hear them up ahead. No more than three leagues from here, little one." Glorfindel said over his shoulder to her. Lúthiel nodded, though inwardly she was seething for the fact that she could not hear them. She was a Peredhil, one of the half-Elven, she should have been able to.
"Lúthiel, you will stay with Aragorn and the other Halflings, understood? Lord Elrond does not want you travelling alone through the forest with the Baggins."
"Lord Elrond may jump off a cliff for all that I care, the old goat. He holds no power over me." Lúthiel said agitatedly. She urged her mount forward and attempted to overtake Glorfindel, but the Elf was faster. This bothered Lúthiel to no end, as she had to use a saddle and the Elf did not. It was the tradition of the Elves to use no saddle or bridle, but Lúthiel had yet to assimilate in this aspect. Glorfindel laughed, tossing back his golden hair, and Lúthiel growled angrily.
"Damn Elf!" she called as he surged on before her.
They reached the encampment where the injured hobbit, his companions, and the Chieftain were, and dismounted. Glorfindel called out to Aragorn, "Ai na vedui, Dúnadan! Mae govannen! [Oh, at last Westman! Thou art well met!]"
Lúthiel dismounted and rushed to the Chieftain, kneeling at his feet, then jumping to her feet and hugging him tightly around the neck.
"Aragorn, are you well? Is anyone injured? Are you injured?" she asked, assessing him carefully. He chuckled lightly and shook his head, waving her off.
"It is not I who was injured, Lúthiel. Young Frodo here, was caught by a Nazgul's blade," he said, glancing from Frodo—the hobbit—to Glorfindel with meaning. Briefly, Aragorn began to tell them of the attack on their camp under Weathertop, and of the deadly knife with which Frodo was stricken. He drew out the hilt of the knife, which he had kept with him to show the Elves.
"There are evil things written on this hilt," he said, "though maybe your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till we reach the house of Elrond. But be wary, and handle it as little as you may. Alas, the wounds of this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can—but all the more do I urge you now to go on without rest."
Glorfindel knelt and searched the wound on Frodo's shoulder with his fingers. His face grew graver as he searched, as though what he learned disquieted him, but Frodo's face seemed to lighten and break through the painful fog, as though the mere touch of the Elf helped to soothe the pain.
"I shall take Frodo to Lord Elrond. Lúthiel will lead you on at a ruthless pace, understand? Lúthiel, do not let them rest more than they must, or eat more than they need. I am away." Glorfindel said and lifted Frodo onto his horse.
"May Eru speed your way." Lúthiel said as she relinquished his reigns to him. As she watched Glorfindel ride off with Frodo, Lúthiel felt a hand on her arm. She turned to find Aragorn there with a soft smile on his face. She returned it and hugged him tightly.
"Lúthiel…" he said as though it were a sigh.
"Aragorn, it's been too long." Lúthiel answered, clasping his arm with hers. Aragorn did the same and smiled.
"Well, we should be heading towards Rivendell, and hastily. Lord Elrond—the old beast—has some very important meeting in a few days." Lúthiel said, placing her hands on her hips and turning to the hobbits.
"Well hello, you must be the other halflings. I am Lúthiel, and I'm to lead you to Rivendell."
"I'm Peregrin Took, but you can call me Pippin. This here is my good friend and relation Merry."
"Meriadoc Brandybuck at your service, my lady."
"Merry and Pippin…and you would be…"
"Samwise Gamgee, uh…Sam, my lady." said the last one with a little bow. Lúthiel smiled and shook her head.
"You need not bow to me, Mister Sam, I am no lady. I am a ranger, like Aragorn here."
"Strider, Lúthiel. They know me as Strider."
"Aragorn?" Pippin asked.
"I have many names." Aragorn said simply. Lúthiel began packing things onto the pony and her own horse, Galad.
"We must travel quickly, for there are four riders unaccounted for. Come, ready yourselves for a grueling pace my new friends." Lúthiel said. She stepped away from the hobbits and gripped Aragorn's arm for a moment.
"Hûn nín liria na cen lle, mellon nín. [My heart sings to see thee, my friend.]" she said with a small smile, placing her hand over her heart. Aragorn cupped her cheek lightly and nodded.
"Gwenwin in enninath. [Long years have passed.]" he answered, letting his hand drop to her shoulder. He gripped her shoulder with a tight smile, and then turned to help pack.
The last time Aragorn had seen his daughter, she had been sixteen years old. After his first real meeting with her, on the day of his mother's burial, he made a point to visit her as often as possible. He loved her from first sight, but hated himself more and more. He watched as she blossomed into a young woman, who blossomed into a warrior. She was a Dúnedain, a descendant of Numenor, and she fought as well—if not better—than all of his rangers.
Aragorn glanced at her for a moment and noticed her clothing. Despite living in Rivendell for a year now, she still wore the ragged leathers of the Dúnedain. Her tunic was richer, the deep blue color only the Elves could extract from dyes, but her jerkin and breeches were the same old worn leather, weathered from long days in the sun and long nights in the rain and mud. What was odd however, was the fact that she wore boots. He'd never once seen her in shoes, in all her years she had despised them, going so far as to claim that they impeded her tracking abilities. He assumed it had something to do with her now living in Rivendell.
On her hip hung a curved Elvish sword, and strapped to her back were two long silver knives. He knew not what other weapons were hidden in the folds of her cloak or tunic, but suspected more than the eye could see. She was fond of blades, and deadly with them, but her use of bow and arrow was not to be scoffed at either. She was an amazing warrior, even as young as she was.
"Hurry now, it is my task to get you all to Rivendell safely." Lúthiel said as she tossed a pack over her shoulder.
They set off for Rivendell at a grueling pace, and reached the Ford of Bruinen on the 22nd. Once they passed into Rivendell, Lúthiel felt as though she were home again, which was strange to her after calling Buckland her home for nearly sixteen years.
After seeing to the hobbits and reporting back to Lord Elrond, Lúthiel went to her room and found a hot bath drawn up for her in the back foyer. She closed the curtain separating the back from the front of the room and stripped free of her clothing. She slid into the bathwater and sighed, letting all the aches from the long journey dissolve into the hot, lavender-scented water.