Author's Note: This isn't going to have much in it, which is why it's shorter, it's pretty much just a lead in to the next. So, I made a little date error in the last chapter, just pretend that it was in early October instead of late September, otherwise the actual timeline won't work. In case you're wondering, the inspiration for Dreya's dream is the song Oceanus by David Arkenstone.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.
18 October 3018 – the Third Age
Four cloaked figures rode deep into the Misty Mountains, following a trail that was swiftly growing cold. They had been traveling for nearly five days, barely stopping for rest and food so urgent was their mission. And then the trail finally ended.
Aerawyn removed the cobalt-hood from her head, peering about the area they had come to. The lonely place was unnaturally still, as though holding its breath. No warmth from the sun invaded the chilling shadows, no birds twittered in the forlorn branches.
A faint glimmer caught her sharp eyes and she dismounted, Kilana following while the other two remained where they were, keeping watch on the way they had come.
Aerawyn knelt near the underbrush and pulled the dully shining object out from the tangled bushes, her heart plummeting. It was one of her sister's short swords, or what was left of it. The once beautifully crafted mithril bade was blackened and twisted, as though it had been left in a furnace and mutilated before being carelessly cooled. Its mate lay farther back, though it was untouched and retained its splendor.
She felt her friend lay a hand on her shoulder in comfort. There was no sign of her sister, not a scrap of cloth or pool of blood.
The two Faeries searched the small cliff for clues to the whereabouts of the missing girl, but aside from scuffmarks in the gravel and the short swords, there was nothing to say that Adraestia had been there at all.
Their horses' heads suddenly shot up, as though hearing something, and the two girls on the ground drew their swords, while the mounted faeries readied their bows, prepared for danger. Twigs snapped and dead leaves crackled as something moved in the little grouping of trees that hugged the face of the cliff.
But instead of a Ringwraith, or horde of orcs, a Fae horse stepped from the sparse trees, its eyes wide and nostrils flared.
"Whoa there, lovely." Kilana whispered, slowly approaching the frightened horse, her hand outstretched.
The nervous creature perked its ears and walked toward her, reaching out its nose to sniff the offered appendage.
"This must be the horse Dreya took." Aerawyn mused, the worried expression never leaving her face. "But what is it doing here? Our horses never leave their riders, whether they be injured or dead, unless another faerie has use of them."
"Perhaps she is here then. Where is our friend? Can you show us?"
The horse snorted and pushed the two faeries to the edge of the cliff. They looked down, scanning the river, trying to see if Dreya could be on the rocks far below.
"Wyn!" Kilana suddenly exclaimed, pointing down the cliff face.
The plain hilt of a dagger protruded from the rock and dirt, it was Adraestia's.
"She must have fallen," Aerawyn growled while standing. "Which means we'll have to search every inch of the river to find her. Let's go."
And with that the company of four left the forlorn ridge, the fifth horse in tow, down to the river and off in the direction of Rivendell.
It was a strange feeling, dreaming. Most of the time Faeries didn't dream, their sleep deep and restful. But she was dreaming, most likely because of the damage sustained by her body and the extended period of unconsciousness. She felt as though she were floating listlessly in the Sea of Myrindös, the current caressing her body, the echo of the waves soothing her mind. It had been decades since she had seen the ocean, been to the underwater caverns of Muireann. The caverns were strange tunnels with air pockets, allowing one to walk beneath the depths, to gaze up into the turquoise waters of the sea. Glittering shells were encrusted in the walls, and fish and other creatures swam by the bubble windows, the concave openings distorting their appearance so that they seemed to shimmer across. It was an utterly peaceful experience, where one could lay on the sandy floor for hours watching the water swirl overhead and creatures swimming leisurely past.
That was how she felt as she lay deep within her mind, dreaming of nothing, merely existing.
"Has she wakened yet?"
Elrond was worried, Fae or not, any injured person brought to Imladris was to be treated equally. The Faerie had been lying still for five days now, her long dark hair fanned out beneath her, her skin pallid, her eyes moving beneath their closed lids. A sprig of Athelas was always sitting beside her, its healing aroma wafting through the room. Her bandages were changed twice a day, and a broth spoon-fed to her every few hours to ensure she was sustained. But still she would not wake, her body unmoving. She appeared pale and fragile, a mere child in the Elf Lord's eyes.
Gandalf had reached Imladris only that morning, and upon hearing news of the stranger Elrond's sons had arrived with, had immediately asked to see her.
"Nay, she has not moved at all these past days."
The wizard sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, Adraestia, why must you always get yourself into such trouble?"
The Elf Lord looked at him sharply. "You know her?"
Gandalf grumbled. "Know her? I practically taught her everything she knows, aside from how to make mischief, she was born with that unfortunate ability."
"Who is she, Mithrandir? And what is a Faerie doing a days ride from Imladris?"
"Adraestia is a Fae Lady, one of the ten who serve directly under the Queen, and the Commander of the armies of her province."
"A Commander? But Mithrandir, how could such a young looking girl be the commander of an entire army?"
"Do not forget, Lord Elrond, she is as immortal as you and your kin. She, and her sister Aerawyn, govern the province of Illyon. Where normally one Lady would have both the political and tactical responsibilities, relying on a Sub-Commander, the duties are split between them. Aerawyn playing the diplomat, and Adraestia the warrior, an equal balance. As to why she is so far north, I wouldn't put it past her to have been chasing after the Wraith who struck her down. She's far to rash, doesn't think things through."
"So why has she not woken? Her ribs are healing, as is the wound from the Wraith's blade. An Elf would have been awake by this time."
"She could be in a healing sleep, her mind shutting down to allow her body to heal itself. Or perhaps she is merely asleep and will wake when she can sleep no more."
"But her eyes are closed, does that not mean she is still severely injured?"
"Nay, all Faeries sleep with their eyes closed, one of the distinguishing differences between your races."
"And what of wings? The old tales all make reference to wings sprouting from the backs of the Fae, and yet there are none."
At this the wizard chuckled. "Faeries only get wings when they have bonded with another, it is a way of showing that they are claimed."
"Ah."
"Yes, now let us go see if we can have some water or something of the sort brought for her."
The two left the room, and as soon as the door shut behind them, the Faerie's eyes opened slowly. She had been stirred awake by the familiar voice of Gandalf, and that of a stranger, talking near her. Not wanting to face the wizard's wrath at her irrational behavior, Adraestia had remained in her guise of sleep until they had taken their leave.
She slowly began to sit up, but the pain of her broken ribs halted the attempt and she fell back on the soft bed with a gasp, her eyes smarting. She refused to cry, she had not done so for many centuries, not since her mother and father had passed into the Halls of Mandos.
The ceiling above her was plan, a light, creamy color with splays of sunlight shining across it, leaking in from the window at the far side of the small room. The coverlet on the bed was soft and warm, and she was undeniably comfortable, but still she wished to get up from her confines and walk about. She was far too restless to be bed-ridden, Aerawyn had often scolded her when she was found polishing her weapons when she was supposed to be resting from some injury. It never suited her to stay in one place very long. Of course, she could remain motionless for as long as needed, particularly on a scouting mission, but then their was the adrenaline and the risk, here in the safety of what had to be the Elf-Haven, Rivendell, she was dangerously bored.
Soft footsteps approaching, and the creaking of the door opening prompted her to resume her position and shut her eyes, feigning sleep as some Elf entered the room and place a tray on the small table beside the bed.
She peaked an eye open as the door shut once more. A bowl of broth and goblet of water rested on the tray.
Adraestia tried to stave off the temptation of the food, but the gnawing hunger in her belly and the enticing scent of the broth soon had her carefully sitting up and dipping the wooden ladle into the bowl. She hesitantly sniffed at the thick liquid and took sip, the strong flavors of meat, carrots, tomatoes, and an assortment of other vegetables assaulting her tongue. She hastily ate the rest of the broth, a feeling of disappointment overwhelming when the ladle came up empty, the bowl wiped clean.
Next she turned to the water, her mouth a bit thick from the broth, quickly taking a long sip before freezing, suddenly catching an unfamiliar taste in the clear liquid. She didn't have time to curse the crafty old wizard before the sleeping draught took over her senses and she collapsed back onto the bed, the goblet falling to the floor with a dull clatter.
No sooner had the goblet settled, the door to the room swung open once more, the wizard, along with Elrond and his curious sons, entered cautiously, wary of the apparently asleep Faerie.
"I see you were right, old friend." Elrond said with a heavy sigh as he carefully shifted the girl so she lay flat on her back and wouldn't damage her healing ribs. "But did you really have to drug her? I'm sure she would be much more cooperative if she were not forced into unconsciousness."
"No, Elrond, this is one case where you must trust my judgement. Adraestia is probably the worst invalid you will ever meet, she will not stay in bed no matter how extensive her injuries, and she wreaks the worst havoc imaginable when bored." He frowned at Elladan and Elrohir's matching expressions. "And no, you will not be allowed to test that theory under any circumstances."
Another two days had passed, filled with back tracking and false appearances, and still there was no sign of the missing princess.
Aerawyn bore a grim expression on her lovely face as they continued their fruitless search. She was not one to admit defeat, yet their quest seemed hopeless, and she knew they would soon have to turn in the direction of Rivendell, for finding the House of Elrond could prove difficult, it being careful hidden in the gullies. She knew her sister was still alive, she could feel it, deep within her heart, the bond with her twin fueling her hope and strength. She just hoped Adreya would be able to hold on long enough for them to find her.
They had reached the place where the Loudwater ran into the Hoarwell, and Aerawyn had chosen to follow the Hoarwell fork instead of the other river, feeling that it was the path to Adraestia.
Not an hour later Kilana spotted something glimmering faintly in the distance, and they pushed their tired horses to reach whatever it was the golden Faerie had spotted.
Aerawyn's heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach when she recognized the metal pieces a long way off, there was no mistaking the armor, even at that distance, for she wore the same design herself.
They slowed their horses and Aerawyn and Kilana once more dismounted, edging near the abandoned armor carefully, watchful for any suspicious alterations to the area. The shining metal had been carefully hidden in the underbrush, but there were no footprints and no sign of Adraestia.
"Where is she?" Aerawyn asked, her voice breaking as she ran her fingers lightly over her sister's armor.
"I'm sure we'll find her, Wyn, I'm sure she's fine."
"My lady!" Lyander's sudden exclamation drawing the princesses' attention to where he was, kneeling by the ground. "Look, my lady, hoof prints."
Aerawyn quickly approached him, Kilana following in her wake.
The two knelt beside him and examined the faint hoof prints in the dirt.
"Horses, two of them, several days ago, maybe a week." Aerawyn muttered, carefully examining the prints.
"We're lucky it didn't rain. Look, Wyn, they're unshod, which means they have to be elves, no dwarf or man would ride an unshod horse, and certainly not two of them."
Aerawyn set her jaw and followed the fading trail of prints with her eyes. "This means Dreya must be at Rivendell, which is where we must go."
Kilana nodded in affirmation.
The two carefully packed Adraestia's armor into some spare bags and secured them to the fifth horse, where her swords also rested, before setting off again, following the trail of prints until they ended and left the small group of Faeries to traverse the cliffs and gullies unguided in search of the hidden city of Rivendell.
She was dreaming again, this time of Gaenor from when she was much younger. She was lying out in the snow, some ways from Nyiesle, the sparkling capital of the ice-land. A frozen stream was ahead of her, its glistening surface sparkling in the light of the sun. Thick snowflakes fell softly from the sky adding to the already deep layer that covered the land in white. She lay on a hide rug, staring out at the stream and the trees, listening to the silence, wondering if this was what life would be like when she was finally called to the halls of her forefathers. This ethereal peace, this wonderful loneliness. It was enchanting, just lying there, strange perhaps, but it felt as she were in some other world, a peaceful world all of her own, a place where she could hide away.
The stillness was broken by the crunch of moccasins on the crystal snow, the melodious voice of her mother asking her why she was off by her lonesome, the warm embrace of her mother's arms. When she turned around her mother stood before her, bundled in soft fur against the cold, her golden hair falling in waves down her back, the mithril crown of Illyon resting gracefully on her forehead, its deep blue stone twinkling in the soft glare of the sun. Laughing grey eyes glimmered at her daughter, and she pulled the small girl into her arms, smiling when the youngling curled against her, suddenly chilled from the cold.
They had walked back to the palace where her strong, dark-haired father sat in their room, in front of the cheerful fire, Aerawyn sitting happily on his lap as he enthralled her with tales of battles and romances from long before.
It was one of the last times they had been together, a wonderful, happy family. A cherished memory given back to her in her dreams.
Author's Note: A bit faster than I expected, but I've been sick so I had a bit more time. I needed a leeway chapter into the next one, so here it is, I've been waiting to write this next one for a while now, so I'm wondering how it will turn out. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!