The Morning Star of Rivendell: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings! If I did, things would be different and probably not as depressing. Boromir wouldn't die, Frodo wouldn't be too scarred by the journey to destroy the ring, all that stuff. Then again, what would I know? I'm not a producer or a professional author. Who knows how the story could've turned out *shudders*. Also, the song in sindarin mention in this fanfic doesn't belong to me.
Okay, I have anticipated for this day for a while now ^^ I was working on this fanfic for, okay I don't know how long but it was long. This is my second fanfic just as a random fact :P Oh yeah, also some of the Sindarin that will be in here I don't know, so it's sadly going to be a mix of Sindarin and italics. I'm going to use these icons (') for thoughts since they will also be in italics.
Heads-up, I'm going to make the first few chapters a mix of the movies and book(s).
Normal POV
Monstrous squeals and cries filled the air, a horrid stench quickly rising soon after. The sickening sound of blood being spilled abruptly cut through the stilled silence.
"Ugh, I forgot how much goblins stunk," a voice groaned.
Afternoon sunlight hit the somewhat grassy ground. A tall, magnificent white horse trotted his way through, his flowing mane a snow-white mixed with golden cream. His muzzle and hooves were a dark-grey. The horse's broad haunches rippled with thick muscle, proving he was well-built and powerful.
His rider was similar.
It was a young woman whose age was undefinable, with nicely toned arms, torso, and legs. Her deep chocolate-brown hair which would normally frame her face was twisted back to tie into the rest of her free hair cascading down her back in ringlets.
The woman's skin glowed despite the tiny flecks of blood dotting it. Her eyes were a startling color of silvery grey and swirling azure blue, popping against her dark-colored hair.
An elf's beauty, of course, for her ears were subtly pointed at the tips.
However, this particular she-elf did not care for the same things most elves did, evident by what she was wearing and how many backpacks and sacks were strapped on her back and hanging off the sides of her horse's saddle.
Her attire consisted of a short leather jerkin, a blue tunic, knee-high boots, archery braces, and a sable cloak. On her person was a belt wrapped tightly just below her waist, also attaching a sheath to her right hip where the sword in her hand
would normally be contained.
It was coated with the blackened blood of goblins, glistening in the sunlight. As the she-elf cleaned the blade in some nearby grass, engravings of curling vines and elvish writing grew visible.
The woman had a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of white-feathered arrows. In front, also near her hips were two deadly looking daggers with some form of runes running down the blades. She sheathed her sword, turning to her loyal steed.
"Come along Thangannas, we only have a few more days to go," the elf smiled as her horse whinnied in protest.
Her gaze grew stern. "Than, we have rested enough already, and look where that brought us! I was unaware goblins still lived near the mountains..."
Thangannas was obviously unnerved by the mention of the fiendish humanoids, shaking his head followed by a snort.
"Now let us take our leave before any more come blundering along."
She swung her long legs over and onto either side of the saddles, picking up the reins and lightly squeezing Than's sides to have him trudge on forward.
A Few Days Later
The scenery had changed drastically from now-distant mountains to rolling hills of lush green grass and rich, dense forests. The air became sweeter and crisp, emanating a tranquil atmosphere.
A horse came into view as Thangannas, who was currently nickering at his rider.
She began mumbling a tune, one which sounded very relaxing and seemed to keep her horse content as well, who calmed at last.
The language in which she sang was unfamiliar to most, but could still put nearly anyone at ease.
"A Falas athan Gaer 'Wahtui!
A Dor ias Edhil dhorthar hi!
A Círbann-bar guren velui!
In felf na-falas dringar hi,
I mŷl 'lain horthar; Orn lothui..."
Her enormous horse whinnied quietly, relishing in the soothing and beautiful language of the Elves. The she-elf's singing died down when her heightened hearing picked up the crushing of vegetation up ahead and the creaking and groaning of old wooden wheels on a wagon.
A smile lit up her features, bringing out her high cheekbones further as she waved, drawing her horse closer to the wagon.
"Gandalf!" she called out after spotting the grey wizard's hat poking out from the front.
She lightly kicked her horse's sides, speeding him up over to the wagon right beside him with a beaming face.
"Gandalf!"
The old wizard turned his head, growing a smile when he noticed the elf. His long, white beard was still as wild as ever and his gnarled wizard staff forever present in his grasp.
"Ah! My dear Yáviën! Manen le?" (how are you?) the wizard's voice boomed.
Despite being aged, he did not have a frail sound to his tone. It was deep, slightly scratchy and gruff, the kind that felt he could easily motivate hundreds of soldiers just by uttering a few words.
Yáviën edged a smile. "Im maer, manen le?" (I'm fine, how are you?)
Gandalf chuckled. "Im maer. Have you traveled here to congratulate Bilbo and Frodo?"
Yáviën beamed once more. "Yes. Apologies for not meeting you sooner; I planned to rendezvous with you once I caught word of your journey to Bilbo's birthday party. Unfortunately, I was busy traveling and had no time to bring anything particularly special. Though I come bearing no extravagant gifts... I did manage to make this along the way."
She pulled out a small wooden carving of Bilbo.
It was stunningly crafted; taking in every wrinkle, freckle, hair and even capturing the eyes to make them seem like they glistened. The paint coloring the carving was highly accurate as if Yáviën had Bilbo's every detail etched into her mind, unable to
be forgotten. To the side was also a golden necklace accompanying the carving.
Gandalf admired her handiwork.
"He will be sure to appreciate such a lovely gift," the elderly wizard grinned, causing the crevices of multiple wrinkles to deepen.
"I do hope he will, it consumed days of my time," Yáviën chuckled.
"But I must ask: where did you find the time to collect the paints and whittling tools to make this?" Gandalf queried.
Yáviën smirked. "I bought them on my travels. It took longer than I originally intended, but I am satisfied with my results."
She then pulled out a leather-bound journal, eager to show Gandalf her other present. "And I made this for Frodo, even though I resorted to the aid of a few colleagues of mine. It is his coming-of-age birthday, after all."
Gandalf examined the journal, smiling when he read the title: "The Basics of Sindarin: Learning the Language of the Elves"
"Frodo will be delighted to finally learn some of your native tongue. He's been pestering Bilbo to teach him at least a few words these past few years."
A smile spread across Yáviën's lips. "Has he? I caught no word of it. But he has been requesting I teach him as well in previous years, though I am not an adequate teacher, hence the aid in writing this guide. I can only hope he will appreciate it as
much as you claim."
As they rode down the path surrounded by the rich nature and green, Yáviën hopped off her horse, tied the reins to the back of the wagon and jumped into the front next to Gandalf while it was still moving.
Somewhat surprised, Gandalf looked at her for a moment before grinning. "I see you wish to repose for a while."
Yáviën smiled back. "As a matter of fact, yes. Living as I do is often very stressful."
"I am still surprised your father lets you do the things you do, my dear," Gandalf sighed, apparently not pleased by some of the things she did.
"I can be incredibly persuasive. And I do not need his permission anyway. Nothing he'd say could prevent me from doing what I set my mind to," the elf shrugged with a slight smirk.
She soon found herself humming a tune with Gandalf, and then singing it.
"Down from the door where it began.
And I must follow, if I can,
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can."
An excited grin remained glued to Yáviën's cerise lips. She was so eager to see Bilbo and Frodo again.
"You're late."
Yáviën turned to see Frodo gazing down at Gandalf with a stern expression.
Gandalf gave a moment before slowly turning to the hobbit. Frodo's large, leathery hard feet were planted firmly on the small cliff overlooking the path and his thick, dark curly hair clung slightly to his neck.
"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."
They stared seriously at each other for a few more seconds until Yáviën started to smile, as did Frodo and Gandalf, who had tried their hardest to keep their smiles hidden, though they'd already been quivering.
The three then broke out into laughs, no longer able to remain serious. Yáviën's loud, chiming laughter made the display almost harmonious.
"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!" Frodo exclaimed, leaping into the wagon and into Gandalf's arms.
The old wizard was taken off-guard but broke out into more chuckles, joyfully hugging the endearing hobbit back.
Frodo then moved along and enveloped the elleth beside him into a tight embrace. "Yáviën!"
"Ai!" she exclaimed, hugging the boy back with equal joviality.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Yávi!" Frodo told her happily while using the truncated version of her name he affectionately used.
"I'm glad, too!" Yáviën replied.
Gandalf grew a grin. "You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?"
"I know I would not miss it for the world," Yáviën beamed.
The three continued into the Shire as Gandalf spoke to Frodo.
"So, how is the old rascal? I hear it's going to be a party of special significance," the old wizard mentioned as he smoked his pipe, the dirtied fog escaping through his lips when he talked.
Yáviën wrinkled her nose in disgust. She never did like smoking. It always smelled so strange. She tried it once and it burned terribly in her lungs. How people such as Gandalf came to like the feeling was beyond her.
Frodo sent him a lopsided smile. "You know Bilbo, he's got the whole place in an uproar."
Gandalf chuckled merrily. "Well, that should please him."
"Half the Shire's been invited. And the rest of them are turning up anyways!" Frodo stated and once again the trio burst into laughter.
Finally entering the town, some hobbits looked up to see the wagon and waved. Yáviën had pulled up her hood before but now brushed it down. Despite revealing her pointed ears, she didn't want to come off as shady and suspicious.
Once they crossed a bridge, they neared Bag-End and the hobbit hole where Bilbo lives.
"To tell you the truth, Bilbo's been a bit odd lately," Frodo admitted suddenly. Yáviën's finely shaped dark eyebrows furrowed together.
"I mean, more than usual. He's taken to locking himself up in his study, he spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking," the young hobbit spoke, evidently perturbed by the odd behavior of his uncle.
Yáviën glanced over at Gandalf, who returned her gaze full of concern and worry.
With Bilbo
Placing away an old, somewhat wrinkled map, Bilbo started to push his hands into his waistcoat pockets.
When he felt nothing, panic spread over his face as the elderly hobbit feverishly searched his pockets again.
"Where is it? Where has it gone?" his rhetorical questions were accompanied by a desperate tone.
Bilbo started digging through everywhere in his home, rummaging throughout underneath trunks, in old books, in his coat hanging up on his coat rack, but with every place he searched came up with nothing.
Finally, he brought his hands up to his maroon vest pockets, stuck his hand into the right one and found what he was looking for, drawing it back to bring the item to his lips, relief washing over him.
Back with Yáviën
"He's up to something," Frodo said with a puzzled and concerned look.
He glanced at Gandalf, then at Yáviën who both only looked at him for a brief few seconds, staring ahead without speaking.
Frodo smirked. "All right, keep your secrets. But I know you two have something to do with it."
Yáviën's eyes widened as if it was her first time hearing this.
Gandalf looked at him incredulously. "Good gracious me!"
The elf beside him held up her hands with wide, sparkling eyes. "I am innocent!"
"Before you two came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of."
"Indeed," Gandalf pretended to agree.
"Really?" Yáviën smiled in amusement.
"Never had any adventures or anything unexpected."
Gandalf shifted slightly, appearing defensive. "If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door."
"I was hardly involved as well if you must know. Gandalf was the one who summoned me in the first place." She smiled, pinning the blame to the elder wizard.
"Whatever you two did, you've been officially labeled disturbers of the peace," Frodo smiled amusingly while Gandalf turned away, his pipe once again in his mouth as he grumbled lightly in a mocking fashion.
Yáviën merely giggled. Looking over past her form, a hobbit made eye contact with Gandalf, only sending him a scorned look. The wizard looked away with a slight huff.
"Hey! It's Gandalf!"
"Gandalf!"
"Gandalf!"
Little children exclaimed as they came to swarm behind the wagon, chasing after the wizard.
"Gandalf, fireworks!"
"Fireworks, Gandalf!"
Pretending not to hear them, Gandalf did not turn or stop. Yáviën cocked an eyebrow, ready to chastise him if he didn't do anything soon for the poor children's sake.
Just as the children started to become disappointed, spinning balls of bright colors suddenly leaped out of the cart, popping and sparkling over the heads of the delighted children, who eagerly chased them in cries of delight and wonder.
Frodo and Yáviën smiled as Gandalf let out a few chuckles, pleased with his little performance.
The old man who had partly glared at Gandalf earlier laughed at the sight of the happy children as his wife came to stand next to him with a scowl, obviously thinking differently on the display. Her scorning glare effectively made him go silent.
Frodo stood from his spot on the wagon, looking at the wizard and she-elf between him.
"Gandalf? Yáviën?"
They both looked at him with questioning eyes.
He grinned. "I'm glad you're both back."
Yáviën sent him a smile of her own, wrapping her long arms around his much smaller frame. "As am I! I'll see you later, yes?"
The boy nodded in response.
"So am I, dear boy," Gandalf replied.
Frodo leaped off the wagon to the soft grass below, waving goodbye as the wagon carried on.
"So am I," the elderly wizard murmured.
Yáviën's heightened hearing picked up his soft-spoken words. She looked at him with a worried expression.
"What do you think Bilbo is scheming? Looking over old maps, isolating himself from everyone, acting secretive... it does not fit him at all."
Gandalf locked eyes with her. "That it doesn't! I'd have not the slightest hint about what is going on in that head of his, for there are too many thoughts to count."
A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking. "This is so boring!" Right? But no, wait until I go further please! I know not much happened in this chapter, but action in Lord of the Rings doesn't happen until later on, so it's not like I can just skip to all of the really exciting parts, right? Sorry if this bored you, but please review so I can learn how to make this better ^^