So yes, I have changed my username, it was well due for a change. Also, I just created a Pinterest board for this fic and my Hobbit one. I love looking through pictures (you should have seen me back in middle-school on Photobucket) and I spent at least 4 hours looking at pictures last night. Yes, I am addicted. If you want to check that out, I have the sight on my profile page. You'll have to type it yourself though.
~~**III**~~
Storm Front
The Last Homely House came into view, perfectly settled in between two craggy cliffs; the suns of autumn making the trees yellow, orange, and red encasing the greens, golds, and whites that colored the House. Elaniel heard Frodo gasp in wonder as they crossed the white cobble-stoned bridge and into the pavilion. There stood Gandalf and Elrond up the stairs under the grand archway with Lindir waiting at the bottom to help Frodo and Elaniel off the horse. Gandalf had come bounding down the stairs to take Frodo in his arms. The hobbit smiled weakly at the wizard who took the stairs two at a time with a speed that Elaniel nearly marveled at. Elrond was quick to lead him into the House and bring him to a bed for tending. Elaniel followed suit, though at a slower pace. She knew that Frodo was in good hands.
Elaniel waited outside as Frodo was being tended to and was joined by Gandalf soon after. "He will recover," the wizard said, "and the Ring is safe."
She let out a long, tired sigh. "I was too late to protect him. He'd already been stabbed when I got there. I feared the worst."
Gandalf placed a hand to her shoulder. "Not to worry, my dear. You came in time and managed to bring him here safely. He'll be fine once he's healed and gets some rest."
"What kept you from Bree, Gandalf?" she asked the wizard. "I waited for your message and that never came either."
Gandalf took a moment to answer. "I was delayed. I am sorry, my dear."
Delayed? How? "You told me you went to see Saruman." Elaniel continued. "Is he here?" Gandalf let out a deep sigh and he looked...tired. "What happened?"
"Saruman has sided with the enemy," Gandalf answered.
Her breath caught in her throat. Saruman betrayed them? Why? How? When?
"I know not why or how long he has courted his views," Gandalf answered her unvoiced questions, "only that he has now shown them to all."
Why would Saruman, the most powerful of the five Istari, betray them all? "Does Lord Elrond know?"
"Of course," Gandalf replied.
"What are we going to do?" Elaniel asked.
"Right now, nothing," Gandalf answered. "There is nothing we can do about him."
"But he knows the Ring is here," Elaniel exclaimed. How could he be so calm? What was stopping Saruman from coming here to take the Ring for his own?
"He won't risk coming here," Gandalf told her. "Even as powerful as he is, he would be outmatched." But that didn't comfort her. "Come, my dear," he continued, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "you're exhausted. Go and get some rest. The others will be here in a couple days."
Yes, as Elaniel had crossed over the Ford, she'd been met with Glorfindel and Elrond's sons. They would bring the others back safely.
As the waves began to calm, Elaniel couldn't help but wonder at what brought on the mighty waters. It was just after Frodo had gained his strength and defense, but the hobbit had no power to call upon the Ford of Bruinen. Neither did she. Then who?
As if for an answer, there was the noise of hooves behind her and Elaniel turned her head to see the golden haired elf riding upon his white and grey steed. Glorfindel and Asfaloth strode purposefully toward Eviera, coming to a stop next to her. Elladan and Elrohir rode up behind him.
"You came in good time," the mighty elf said. His stern, yet good-natured face looked at the woman and hobbit upon the horse. "The Nazgûl never dare to cross the borders of the Ford, but it seems the Ring would make them desperate for any measure. It is good fortune that Lord Elrond and Mithrandir now know you are here."
So it was they who called upon the flood, Elaniel thought. Of course with the gallop of the horses she should have guessed. Her eyes closed and she let out a sigh in relief. She was safe. The Ring was safe. Frodo was safe. But the relief did not last forever. "Strider and three more hobbits are still on the other side of the Ford," she told them.
"Then we will fetch them," Elrohir said. "Take him to father, he does not look well." With that, they all rode onward Asfaloth would surely be able to carry two hobbits.
Elaniel did not tarry. She turned Eviera around and urged her onward.
That reminded Elaniel of something. "Gandalf, who is he exactly? Strider?" She only had mere minutes to get a good look at him. But that had been enough for her. Despite the distress of Frodo's injury, she still kept her eyes open. "He wears the Ring of Barahir."
Gandalf paused before answering. "That you will have to ask yourself. His name belongs to him alone. His story is his to tell."
Elaniel shook her head. What was it about a simple ranger that Gandalf had to be so vague about? "You've never played me for a fool, Gandalf. Don't start now."
"I am not playing you," Gandalf insisted. "You must find out who he is from the man himself."
For now, she let it go. One man's identity was the least of her worries. Gandalf was right and she was exhausted.
Elaniel slept through the rest of the day and into the night. She woke sometime before dawn. Still in her grimy traveling clothes, she felt quite dirty underneath the silky elven sheets. She had a bath drawn and scrubbed away two weeks worth of dirt and grim. She hadn't the chance to clean herself while on the road and the water grew more dirty than she liked.
She returned to her chamber dressed in a comfortable tunic-dress that fell to her knees and soft dark leggings, and was quite surprised at who was waiting there for her.
"My Lord Elrond," Elaniel hastily greeted with a light bow. "You are the last person I would ever expect to bring me breakfast."
The elven lord gave a light smile as he sat at the table where a good tray of food waited for Elaniel. He gestured for her to sit. Elaniel wasted no time in grabbing one of the scones and taking a bite. She was hungry and surely Lord Elrond would not mind.
In her youth, Elaniel had frequented Rivendell in the company of her mother. Her father had come at times as well when his duties allowed him to do so. Elrond had been a friend of Elaniel's mother and Elaniel was always welcomed to visit even after her mother died. So she had continued to return to Rivendell throughout the years whenever she had the time.
"You seemed troubled yesterday."
Elaniel paused in her eating. She swallowed the last of her scone before speaking. "My friend had been stabbed with a Morgul Blade and we spent a day and a half outriding Ringwraiths," she replied, "you would be troubled as well, I think."
She looked at Elrond's knowing expression and sighed. "You know too much," she told him. With the gift of foresight and his great wisdom, there was little that passed under Elrond's gaze that remained unseen.
"And yet there are things that still surprise me," he replied in kind.
Elaniel half-smiled. "None can be expected to know it all. How is Frodo, by the way?"
"He is resting," Elrond answered. "He should be awake in a few days." His grey eyes bore into hers and he spoke again. "What troubled you so? You had the courage to outride the Nine, but you entered here near pale as death."
She shouldn't have felt so ashamed, and her fear was completely logical. The Nazgûl had the power to strike fear in the hardiest of warriors. Elrond knew she had courage, heartfelt and foolhardy, but he also knew what things had the power to deeply upset her. And there was something about the words that drove fear into her very core.
"One of them spoke to me," Elaniel murmured. She didn't have to use specifics with Lord Elrond. "He said that I was born to darkness." She shook her head meekly. "It could have easily been something to unhinge me, but...they are not ones to go for petty threats. I don't know why, but it worries me."
Elrond rose from his chair and strode slowly across the room. He came to the window and looked out, resting his hands on the sill. "How has everything been at Naurgail's borders?" he asked.
"It's been quiet for the last ten months," Elaniel answered him. It was a bit odd to her as well. Not much had gone on around the borders of her home. The occasional trolls, orcs, goblins, and wildmen. Being so close to the Ettenmoors and the mountains of what remained of Angmar, Naurgail's troubles were plenty. Attacks had been few and far between as of late though.
"From the Moragar as well?" he added.
"Yes," Elaniel answered. Moragar were what the mages called the blood-traitors. They had begun practicing black magic in want for more power. They turned on other mages, capturing them and draining their blood for spells and power. By inscribing runes written in the blood of a mage, the Moragar gains the magic the mage held in life. But they didn't only hunt mages, they turned on the elves as well and gain a small measure of immortality by the runes written in elvish blood. Moragar were known for looking like living death, but without the decay, black runes sticking out from the white of their skin. They were the shame and the burden of the mages.
In the last few decades, the Moragar had come back from their exile in the far north. In the past ten years, Elaniel had hunted down her fair share of them. Lost plenty of her kin to them as well.
When the Moragar began to take the elves, some had looked in reproach to the mages. Those of the Woodland Realm no longer wished to associate with the mages, though now they hardly did even with their own kin. But the elves were hardly ones to look down on the kinslaying in such a way. Nearly every race had done some form of it at one time or another. Men especially, as they continued it still. But it was hardly favorable and not taken lightly. Some chose to be offended by it, while others like Lord Elrond took it as an obstacle to overcome.
"And your people fare well?" Elrond inquired.
"No more raids have happened in five years if that's what you ask," Elaniel told him. The Moragar still liked to prey upon the mage's blood whenever they could get it and sometimes raided the outer villages of Naurgail. She thought of what happened to her captured kin and surpressed a shudder.
"I have called for representatives of Men and Elves as well as Dwarves to my council," Elrond told her, moving the conversation in a different direction. "Messengers were sent a week ago and within the next weeks, our guests will begin to arrive."
Elaniel looked back to her plate and stabbed her fork into a cut piece of plum. Of course some sweet sugar powder was sprinkled on top. Elven food was never plain. She shoved the fruit in her mouth and swallowed before answering. "Should I be worried?" She turned to Elrond, whose gaze was now on her.
"You need not worry over any of them," he told her. "You are in my house, under my protection. I will have no violence in my home."
"Is that before or after the Elves of Mirkwood spill my blood on the stones?" Elaniel said dryly. She didn't doubt for a second that they would be one of the many guests. Even if they didn't mingle with others, this concerned the Woodland Realm as well. And the Woodland Elves hated mages the most.
Elrond gave her bemused look. "Before," he deadpanned. "And you will be fine so long as you don't make the first strike. Then you are at their mercy."
Of course he had to say that, and of course Elladan and Elrohir had to tell him too. Well, they hardly moved to stop her...and they never needed to travel into Bree anyway. "So then you'll make them clean up my blood, and 'Dan and 'Roh will give me my funeral rights."
Elrond shook his head and even gave a light chuckle that time. He made his way back over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "No harm will come to you." With that, he left.
Evening had fallen of the next day when Glorfindel and Elrond's sons returned with the three hobbits and Strider. The hobbits looked exhausted and Sam wary as they rode upon horses. Sam sat behind Elrohir and Merry and Pippin were both on Asfaloth. Elladan led a pony burdened with several bags and Sam's cooking pots on it.
Elaniel had felt so uneasy about the three hobbits out in the wild. Frodo had been stabbed by a Morgul Blade, what could have happened to the others? Merry and Pippin were always looking for trouble and may be just a matter of time before trouble went looking for them in return. And Sam, he was always such a sweet and innocent fellow. He had deep respect and caring for those close to him and a warm heart. Such things were preyed upon in the big world.
But they were safe now. No harm came to them and Frodo would be mending. Elaniel went over to Asfaloth and pulled Pippin down from the horse, enveloping him in her arms before setting him on his feet. They were safe.
"How's Frodo?" Sam asked as Strider helped him down from the horse.
"He is with Lord Elrond, getting the healing he needs," Elaniel answered.
The three hobbits crowded around her, bursting with inquiries, but they deemed to ask one at a time. She was the most familiar one and they wanted answers from her since she was the one who'd delivered Frodo here.
She knelt down in front of them, grasping Sam and Pippin's shoulders, looking around to them with Merry in the middle. "Frodo will get all the help he can. Now we only keep him in our thoughts and wish for a swift recovery." The three hobbits nodded vigorously, and Merry and Pippin became more relaxed in their expressions. Sam was still on edge. Elaniel was going to have to change that. "Now, come, it is late. Time for us to get some sleep. You are in the House of Elrond. I can show you around in the morning."
Even Sam smiled at that. Elaniel rose, taking Pippin's hand and leading the three hobbits into the elven city. First they would go to the kitchens where they could get food in their bellies and next would be a nice soft, warm bed to sleep in. That was more than deserved for their long and weary travels.
~~*.*~~
The next morning, they all went to see Frodo. Elrond sat with him, muttering in elvish as he dabbed a warm cloth on Frodo's shoulder. The hobbit was unconscious and his skin looked wan and pale. There was some tension in his brow, which was wiped off every couple minutes.
Sam insisted on helping any way he could. He took over wiping at Frodo's brow and pouring a bit of water past his lips. He insisted on staying at Frodo's side while Merry, Pippin, and Elaniel lingered only for a short while, not wanting to overcrowd the room.
Then, Elaniel guided the two hobbits through Rivendell, taking in all that there was to see and meeting many of the elves. Some of them were fierce and mighty like Glorfindel and others had a light scholarly appearance to them like Erestor. And there were plenty who were merry in manner and stopped to greet the hobbits warmly. The two were humbled and in awe of the elves and sometimes stumbled in their greetings, either intimidated or very flattered by such beings.
But elves weren't the only beings to be found in Rivendell. The hobbits also found Bilbo. He'd been in the Homely House for the last four months. Elaniel had been surprised on returning to Naurgail and finding Bilbo welcomed there. She'd told her kin plenty of stories about him and the name Baggins would have been immediately recognized. He'd even stayed in Elaniel's rooms while she was away. He insisted that the first place he wanted to travel to was her home as he'd heard so much of it from her and yet never set foot in it himself. When Elaniel returned, the old hobbit had stayed for three months, long enough to witness one of the mages' famous Fire Festivals. Then Elaniel escorted him to Rivendell.
And Bilbo wasn't alone, the daughter of Elrond sat with him. Elaniel nearly laughed at the stunned expressions on the hobbits' faces as they gazed upon the elven maiden. Known for her great beauty even among the elves, Arwen was undoubtedly one of the fairest sights Merry and Pippin would ever see. Elaniel herself had been enchanted when she first gazed upon Arwen when she was but a girl.
Elaniel introduced the still stunned hobbits to Arwen. The two managed to regain their wits and made respectful bows as well as complimenting words.
"Well met, Meriadoc and Peregrin," Arwen greeted. "Master Bilbo has been here reading his poetry to me."
Bilbo smiled and greeted the three of them. He'd gone to see Frodo the afternoon before, giving his nephew all the silent support he could give. But now that was Sam's doing and the only thing they could do was wait.
It wasn't until three days later that Frodo did awake. Elaniel was returning to the room with Sam after coaxing him away to get a short rest and breakfast. Gandalf took over sitting with him and they'd been talking when the two entered again.
Upon seeing Frodo awake, Sam rushed over to the bedside, taking Frodo's left hand. "Bless you, you're awake. And your hand's not so cold either."
Gandalf chuckled at Sam's exploding relief. "Sam has hardly left your side, Frodo," he told the hobbit.
"We were worried sick, weren't we Mister Gandalf, Miss Ella?" Sam looked at the two of them.
Frodo looked to Elaniel as well. "Thank you for bringing me here," he told her.
Elaniel moved to stand behind Sam. "It's the least I could do for a friend," she answered.
Frodo gazed back at Sam and his face lit up as he remembered something. "While we were traveling, Ella showed me the stone trolls that Uncle used to tell us about. We even stayed in their old hoard for a while. I think I saw some of their treasure there still."
Sam was pleased to hear Frodo's tale, as was Gandalf, and it warmed Elaniel's heart to see her friend well on the mend.
Elaniel strolled through the halls of Rivendell. For once she was allowed to do this on her own. The hobbits now knew the place well enough to make their way around. Frodo had been up and walking around for the last four days. He spent most of his time with Bilbo who finally showed him what he had done in his book for far. The book wasn't only of writing from what Elaniel had seen. There had been pictures of Bilbo's old blade as well as the one Thorin received, which was named Orcrist, and Gandalf's blade, Glamdring. Before putting it in the book, Bilbo spent plenty of sheets getting the drawings just right.
What a story he has to tell. Elaniel thought as she walked. She had no destination in mind, but she knew where she was headed. The hall was still open and light by the fading afternoon sun, white pillars passed her by on one side with white walls on the other. But the pillars paused to make room for a statue bearing the shards of Narsil. Even after three thousand years, they still stood here in Rivendell, broken, yet not rusted. Across from it stood a painting of Isildur brandishing the broken sword against the Dark Lord Sauron.
The battle had been won...but the war still remained. Isildur kept the Ring of Power for himself instead of destroying it and it had been lost thousands of years after his death. Now because of him, evil would still endure, but Elaniel was hardly one to hold something such as that against him.
She heard footsteps down the hall and turned to see Strider walking down the hallway opposite of where she came from. "I haven't seen you around often." With her days spent entertaining the hobbits, Elaniel had only seen him a couple times in the last few days. "And our first meeting was in such haste that I did not properly introduce myself. I am Elaniel."
Strider nodded his greeting. "The hobbits have been keeping you busy," he said, stopping in front of her and turning to gaze at the painting on the wall.
Elaniel nodded, glancing at the painting again. "As a ranger from the north, you must be able to tell Isildur's story like it was your own," she said.
"I know the tale," Strider murmured, "and the legacy it left behind." His eyes cast downward and he seemed to grow troubled.
"We still sing praises to Elendil in Naurgail," Elaniel said. "We honor the day he gifted the mages our lands. It is when we have our Fire Festival each year."
"You still hold him in such regard?" Strider asked.
"Of course," she answered. "He was loved by all who knew him, elf and man alike. It was said that the first time my ancestors looked upon him, they would be willing to follow him anywhere."
"Even to the fires of Mordor," Strider mused. "And would they do that again now? Even as his son allowed the Ring to survive?"
Elaniel glanced at the man. Even at her tall height, he was about half a head taller than her. It wasn't hard to figure out that he was one of the Dúnedain, from the blood of Númenor. "My people have had their downfall as well. I would hardly be one to condemn your people for something their ancestors had done in the past."
"But how do you not let such a thing claw at your judgments?" Strider inquired. He was looking at her now. Again, she remembered he wore the Ring of Barahir. She didn't need to look down at his finger to see it. His name belongs to him alone, Gandalf had said. Just who was this Strider?
"Because even if they are my kin, and the same blood flows through my veins, I remember that they are not me," Elaniel answered. "We each have our own choices to make. I don't live my life fighting against that fate. I make the choices of my heart and remember what I stand for."
"Those are strong words," Strider mused.
"And perhaps you will take them to heart?" she commented with a smile.
He didn't answer, but turned around to the broken blade of Narsil. Who is he? Elaniel opened her mouth to speak, but then she noticed someone else in the hallway.
The glare he gave her momentarily stopped her stone still. His cold blue eyes bored into hers. So it seemed the elves of Mirkwood had arrived. Elrond must have spoken to him first, seeing as the elf had yet to draw a weapon, but his stare was weapon enough. Strider soon took notice of the elf as well and turned back to the stare down between the mage and elf.
Elaniel turned to Strider and gave him a curt nod before walking off in the direction she came.
Legolas led his horse through the cobblestone path into Imladris, Tauriel and Thomben behind him. They'd spent the last six days traveling from Mirkwood to Elrond's House and they made it without incident.
The Lord Elrond met them at the gate with Lindir at his side. Legolas dismounted his horse and placed a hand on its neck, murmuring in elvish. It had ridden long and hard the past few days. He noticed Tauriel lean slightly on her horse from the side of his vision. The last few decades have been hard on her. As much as he didn't want to coddle his closest friend, Legolas couldn't help but worry over her. He turned to greet the elven lord.
"I take it your journey went without incident," Lord Elrond said.
"Yes," Legolas answered. "But there is some news I must tell you."
"Then come and let us speak," Elrond replied. "But first, I must tell the three of you that there is a guest here. A Naurgail mage."
Even Tauriel hardened at that. "You allow a witch into your home?"
Elrond gave her a stern look. "You may have your quarrel with them, but here we do not. She means you no harm and I will have none fall upon her." His tone was stern, but not cold. "I want no conflict here in my home. I hope you will respect my wishes should any of you meet."
They were not about to fight with him, so they all nodded and Legolas continued on to speak with Lord Elrond.
Legolas spoke privately with Elrond, giving the message of Gollum's escape. If it weren't for the fact that the pitiful creature was just that, pitiful, he would have raged at foolishness of Gollum's escape. They tried being kind to the creature, taking him out of his cell and allowing him to climb through the trees supervised. But what they didn't know was it was lying in wait. Waiting for the orcs to surprise them so it could make its escape. He and Aragorn had spent months tracking him down, and even then, the enemy had gotten to him first.
Elrond wasn't too concerned about Gollum's escape. The enemy already had what they needed from him. Legolas was then updated on the news of the Ring and that it was here.
Though the witch was here as well. Legolas didn't understand how Lord Elrond could be so trusting. He didn't want to disrespect one more wise and experienced than he, but still. The witches weren't to be trusted.
It was only more concerning when he saw Aragorn talking with one. Lord Elrond never said there would be many, so this woman must be the one. She caught his stare and stilled. Legolas would do as Elrond requested and not strike her, but if she were to pose a threat toward any here, then he would not hesitate. It seemed the witch took the message without any words and quickly walked away. Aragorn watched her leave.
"I did not expect you to be so comfortable around a witch," Legolas said in elvish. The young ranger shouldn't be so. He knew exactly who he was, and the enemy would stop at nothing to spill his blood.
Aragorn let out a short breath and replied, "She means no ill will. She is close to Gandalf."
"Then that is his mistake," Legolas snapped.
"Do not look for a threat in every turn, my friend," Aragorn told him.
"You know of what the witches do," Legolas argued. "You of all people shouldn't be so quick to let your guard slip." He knew all too well of what the witches were capable of and what they did. This one was no different.
Aragorn sighed. "Let us speak of more pleasant things."
Legolas wanted to snap at him, but thought better of it. "Very well," he replied evenly.
"You cannot tell me that you have never loved, Elaniel," Arwen said.
Elaniel now walked down the halls arm-in-arm with Lady Arwen. She'd found the elven lady shortly after her cold encounter with the Wood-Elf. Are you so afraid of them? Arwen had asked. Afraid wasn't quite the right word. Worried over her neck was a bit more appropriate. It was only under Lord Elrond's word that she was still alive.
Okay, fine. Inside, she was afraid. And taken off-guard, but she was hardly going to admit that aloud.
Elaniel strayed from that topic immediately as they strolled through the hallways. Somehow they'd gotten on the topic of love, and that was something that also made her uncomfortable.
"I have not. At least not in the way you think," Elaniel lied. It wasn't something she ever wished to share with others. Not when the bitterness still haunted her. There were plenty of people she loved, but being in love was something else entirely.
"What of Glorfindel? You seemed quite taken with him," Arwen said with a knowing smile.
Elaniel blanched. "That was years ago, and nothing but the swooning of a child."
"But you weren't a child."
"To whose standards? Mine or yours?" Elaniel balked.
"Yours, of course," Arwen answered with a tinkling laugh. Elaniel had been twenty-three years of age at the time when Glorfindel had spent some time to train her.
"That was infatuation without reason," Elaniel answered. "But then, love must be the loss of all logic."
"Love is the loss of logic and the gaining of clarity at one moment," Arwen said, more to herself than Elaniel. "Infatuation has no clarity."
"Don't start teasing me," Elaniel chuckled ruefully. "I get that enough from your brothers."
The two both shared a light chuckle, but Elaniel stopped short as she noticed another woodland elf walking past the two of then in the hall, female this time. She paused as she saw Arwen but also turned a hard gaze to Elaniel.
"Well met, Tauriel," Arwen greeted in the elvish tongue with a smile.
The ellith, Tauriel, gave a respectful nod and continued on while pointedly looking away from Elaniel.
"Are you so terrified of them?" Arwen inquired as she noted the look on Elaniel's face.
"Again, I would not say terrified," Elaniel remarked. She would rather not admit that aloud, but terrified was not the right word. "But it is only under your father's good graces that I am still alive after that encounter and the one before."
"Perhaps if they knew who you were," Arwen offered.
Elaniel shook her head. "I doubt that would matter." She let out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes I wish I was different, or life stances were different."
"Do not think of yourself in such a way," Arwen soothed. "You are just who you were always meant to be. I am sorry for such cold greetings and I do wish that your people could gain more warmth from the world."
"I fear this is something that will always remain," Elaniel murmured.
"Some things are very certain," Arwen told her. "And there are things that constantly change. Do not give up hope for your people. One day it may come."
If only, Elaniel thought.
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