Chapter 7
~Snow~
Rain spilled down crystalline triangles of glass in the form of tears. The sky wept for a reason unknown to her and the others. It had been raining in mixed intervals for three days; the world was only a bleak, grey churning maelstrom that wept heavily over the world. Erestor's cat watched the long rivulets of water stream down the panes in the library like she would a mouse. Coruwen let herself smile at the cat, who had been her companion when Elladan abandoned her to seek out Lord Elrond. The cat was small, but slight of frame like a twig.
"I named her Aiwë, or little bird," Coruwen recalled Erestor telling her. Yes, Aiwë meant little bird in the tongue of the elves of Aman – she learned. The word felt familiar to her, like a mother's song. It was a faint idea, but she did not dwell on it. As if hearing her thoughts, Aiwë turned and mewed at her with peridot eyes shining at her.
Coruwen giggled, motioned for Aiwë to come to her, and turned her attention back to the book she held in her lap. She had taken up reading about the earlier ages of Arnor since her test. The book spoke of skin-changers – who she believed to be a child's story until now – and vampire bats, a serpent or two, and even the greatness calamity that struck the early ages; Ancalagon the Black. Someone had taken time to draw the great fire-drake as well.
The picture consisted of charcoal, red and orange ink and a bone white paint that she saw in the Erebor drawing as well. The dragon was tall and broad shouldered, with a form that she assumed could blot out the sun. His wings were long and thin, long stretches of white leather webbed between the bones and almost appeared nonexistent. While four mighty paws held up his frame. His face and head were angular like a horse's with great horns that arched like scimitars towards the sun. Strips of red ink cracked the delicate charcoal shading of the drawing and in the faded white of the scales around the dragon's neck. All the while there was a serpentine grin plastered on the dragon's face as he looked out into a field of rock and smoke.
If Ancalagon was as great and destructive as he was – how was one able to get so close? She wondered. It was said that Ancalagon had burst from a volcano, his maw ablaze with the fire from the earth's innermost centre clinging to him like a shroud. However striking he was, he was still a beast.
Her heart clenched in mute fear of the beast that grinned oh so wickedly at the world in his picture. What fear would have riddled someone who heard his great cry on the wind? To see his frame blot out the sun and not even blink before fire slipped from the creature's maw…
Crack!
The fire nearby spat and scared her nearly out of her skin. Aiwë watched her without so much as moving an inch.
"Tis nothing but a picture, Aiwë," She found herself muttering. Ancalagon was not real, he had been but he was no longer. Yet she seemed to have felt the fear that trailed after whispering his name. It shook her in the same regard that thunder pealed over plains and up mountains. Forcing back a shiver, she stood and straightened her skirts, picked up the book, and placed it back on the shelf she had found it from earlier.
The lithe cat preened her delicate face with a paw. Aiwë padded after her until she bade the cat to find Erestor. She would find Elladan again, but she kept Ancalagon's memory firmly locked away.
The rain clattered on the panes of the windows as she walked down the hall, skirts tugging at her heels. Coruwen found the lone son of Elrond at the end of the hall, running his fingers over the hilt of his sword. It was an elegant piece of work, the pommel was a bright jewel and the hilt was formed of auburn leather while the blade itself was reminiscent of one sided leaf. She had never seen it before.
"Elladan?" She asked quietly, touching his shoulder. He started, sword falling from his hand. It fell to the floor in a chiming clatter. Kneeling, she picked up the sword in both hands. It was heavy in her hands, almost awkward for her to shift and offer back to its master. Elladan eyed her curiously before taking it from her hand.
"You have never handled a sword, I take it?" Elladan asked and sheathed the blade. Her hands tingled with the memory of the sword's leather. She nodded, to which he grinned. Her mind never wanted blades like it had herbs and healing; it simply was never interesting to her. Her father had taught her to be an archer for the sake of protection alone, but it had taken serious control on his part. "Do you want to learn?"
Coruwen shook her head. Elladan cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "You are not disagreeing because you are a lady?"
Coruwen let out a wisp of laughter, "Swords are not topics I wish to divulge in, Elladan. My Adar only trained me to use a bow because it was wise in case Lothlórien was attacked," She said as the twin stood with his sword under his palm like a staff. "Even still, I would prefer to heal those who have taken an arrow to the shoulder rather than stick them with one."
Elladan's laughter filled the empty hall with a brightness that could have rivaled the sun. It pierced her heart like a spear and she giggled softly. When it died, his steely eyes turned to her, a smile lighting them. "What do you require of me, my lady?"
She nearly scoffed at the use of that term. The only people ever to use 'my lady' in her presence were Kain, Lindir, and when Erestor would speak with her; he would as well. A look of disbelief twisted her face for a moment and then it faded when the sounds of screaming horses tickled her hearing. Or at least she thought she heard horses….
"Coruwen?" Elladan drew her back to the world before her rather quickly. He regarded her quietly, and her gut turned abruptly. Was she hearing things? She grasped Elladan's sleeve and tugged him over to the window. Yelping at first, he finally let her lead him to the tear streaked glass. Her eyes searched the courtyard, hoping to see the brimming fur cloaks of the Dunedain. But there was nothing, only rain dripping from the eves and falling onto the stone. "There is nothing there – what are you hoping to see?"
Her thoughts flew from her mouth, "I thought I heard horses…"
"I swore I heard them as well earlier, but… It was only a faded rumble of thunder," Elladan admitted with a sigh. "I know it is quiet, Coruwen, but we will have to stand by and wait until the Old Man decides the time is right to return south."
A frown turned down the sides of her lips. Elladan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her to his side as he had done with Arwen many a time. Quietly, she slipped from under his arm to step back against the cold window. She had no need of his comfort at this moment. She…She did not seem to understand. Ignoring the biting cold of the glass, she bit the side of her hand.
"Coruwen… Stop this, please," Elladan said as he turned to face her. He took her by her shoulders with a grip that made her feel the tremors in his hands. "Kain will come back."
"It is not Kain I worry for!" Her voice came as a snap and Elladan nearly recoiled. Her inner voice was screaming at her to rein in her emotions. The snap made her throat burn, a burn never left her until her emotion coiled back into a neat fold in the pit of her stomach. "I-I apologize for that, Elladan… I never meant to yell."
Elladan watched her closely for a moment before taking a mental step forward. She lowered her gaze to the silver brooch at his throat. "Tis both of our faults. I should have not bid you to cease what comes as second nature to you and you should not have snapped." He corrected quietly. Through lowered lashes, she could see the hurt physically mar his face. Within her chest, her heart slammed against her ribs. "You are concerned for Arwen?"
"Yes," She nodded; wisps of hair freed themselves from her braid tickled her ear. "What with orcs packs running wildly about; I cannot help but feel it…" Her hand pressed against her heart as though blood wept openly from it. "She should be returning one of these days, correct?"
Elladan nodded, "Eventually."
"I hope she is safe returning… Heavens know that we have faced enough trouble these past few months," Tucking her hands into the long sleeves of her dress, she leaned against the trim of the window and hoped that all would be well, whenever that time came.
~.~.~
"How can you count that same bundle of herbs – twice?" Elladan's voice poked at the back of her mind while she carefully minded her fingers that pulled apart the stinging nettles in her hands. "What are you holding anyway?"
"Stinging nettles," She answered, and Glorfindel quietly echoed her at her back. He was coiling up a stretch of linen that would have been used on the wound at his side had it not healed. Luckily, a scar had not formed from that tiny experience and she was thankful for it.
"What do those do?" Coruwen nearly let the nettle bite her. As helpful as nettles were, they often hurt the healer more so than the patient. Silently, she hated using them. She placed the nettles back on the high shelf and then grabbed a large bit of willow bark. The shaved bits of tree bark splintered in her hand – it was old. "What is that?"
"I would not bother her, Elladan," Glorfindel chided. She barely had time to blink before the lord's golden hair flickered in her vision. She had run her fingers through a week or two prior when he had fallen to poison. It was reminiscent of her own but paler and far more intriguing to her. His fingers touched the splintering bark in her hand, "What is the matter?"
"How old is this?" She whispered and flicked her eyes up to his face. His royal blue eyes studied it closely.
"A few months or more," He swept back strands of her hair and tucked them behind her ear. "Come, I am sure we will find more just past the Bruinen's first bend."
Coruwen shadowed his steps, the tails of her travel coat hitting the backs of her knees. The tails were split to resemble a swallow's forked tail while the sleeves were thin and pointed. She could count on her hands how many times she had worn coats. This was longer than the others, and far from being threadbare. When her mind slipped away, she nearly ran into Glorfindel's back while Faenaur stood in his way like a great wall.
"Why is he standing in my way?" Her mentor asked. He was trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice, and she could not blame him. Faenaur was a nasty creature when he was provoked. The bloody horse liked to bite and rear with his iron shod feet. Thankfully, no one ever was struck by his feet. But Faenaur certainly glowered at Glorfindel as if he would kick him into the side of a mountain.
"Faenaur, shoo!" Coruwen nearly shouted and gestured for the stallion to run along. The palomino snorted, turned, and galloped off with mud kicking up in his wake. She stalked past Glorfindel and it was his turn to follow her out of Imladris, past a cluster of trees to a great, willow tree with spindly branches that graced the ground by mere inches. The tree before her had been here for years, the branches spoke all to her. The wind had to snake its way through the branches to find its way out of the labyrinth of leaves.
Coruwen wove through the branches until she found the tree's trunk. It was wider than a wooden trunk and covered with jagged, pale gold bark. Her hand flicked back to her hip, where a knife would rest but there nothing was empty space there… How could she run off without her knife? She groaned, rested her head against the tree's bole, and mutely berated herself.
"Coruwen?" A voice called after her. If Glorfindel lost her… Wait that did not sound like an ellyn she knew. Only one elleth she knew possessed such a light, sweet voice. The willow's curtain of leaves parted to reveal Arwen, a velvet cloak obscuring the tails of a white traveling coat. "Coruwen – what are you doing out here?"
It was mere moments before Coruwen felt Arwen's tight embrace nearly choke the air out of her lungs. She wound her arms around Arwen's neck to hope to release some of the tension that her friend gave her.
"I am fetching white willow bark for the stores," Coruwen said when Arwen stepped back. Arwen hummed, she returned to the tree to gently chip away at the thick bark with her nails. "The bark we had was old and splintering."
"I have a surprise for you when you return to Imladris," Coruwen almost turned at the thought, but instead a wild joy filled her heart. A smile lit her face while she worked at the bark. "And I have to ask… Did the test happen..?"
"Yes," The word was bitter on her tongue, like a sour leaf, "It was Glorfindel that the poison was aimed upon."
"I knew that Ada would aim for him… But… But how are you coping with the after effects?"
The question stabbed her in the heart. She wound the little bits of bark into a bit of cloth before she stashed it away. In truth, she was handling the after effects quite poorly. Though the poison was gone and the wound was healed, she could not help but feel on edge since then. What slight bit of anger she possessed rose from the calm wake of her mind to strike like a pit viper. When she wanted to tuck her hands away into her sleeves, she found that the sleeves weren't bell like – they were thin. Her mind felt a drift for a moment.
With a careful tongue, she spoke, "I have not faced anything as terrible as this… It certainly has not been… easy for me." Arwen's grey-blue eyes reflected the hurt that tore at her. Perhaps the pain was clear and she did not notice it? The truth fell from her mouth like the rain that had fallen a week prior. "He is my mentor, he means a great deal to me. For him to fade away and his feä to return to Namos…"
She found herself colliding with the tree's bole as tears threatened to fall. Arwen started towards her, but then stopped short when a form – silver and grey – caught her eye. She found herself staring into the eyes of her father. The space around her gulped air before her arms wound around his neck while her face buried into the crook of his shoulder and neck.
"Oh my little nightingale," Haldir whispered into her hair. His strong arms held her close as if the ground rise up and take her from him. For what felt like an age, she had been away from him. And yet, here he stood – very much alive and well. Her fingers swept through his hair; it slipped through her fingers like little bits of ribbon, only to fall onto his back in a sheet. He… He had come.
Sadness tore through her like lightning. It ripped through her calm demeanor forcing tears to slip from her eyes. She screwed them shut to keep the tears away, but still they fell. Her father leaned back and suddenly she felt… Tiny again. She was suddenly at his knee and he was towering over her like a mallorn tree. His callused hands cupped her cheeks to allow his thumbs to gently press the tears away, leaving only cold streaks in their wake. One might have thought that such callused hands would scratch rather than comfort, but whoever said such a thing was wrong. Calluses were a sign of protection, but scars told more of a story than the other. She could count the scars her father had on his person, and she had counted the ones on Glorfindel's hands as well.
"No more tears, my nightingale," Haldir whispered as she cracked open her eyes to look up at him. He was a grey, silver-blonde blur in her eyes, yet she could hear the comfort in his voice that eased the tension in her heart.
"Why did you not tell me you would be coming with Arwen?" Coruwen enquired through the knot in her throat. Over Haldir's shoulder, she saw Orophin's silver hair flicker in and out of sight, followed by what she assumed was Rumil. "I-I would have prepared myself greet you…"
Haldir chuckled lightly, "You have not changed much, my daughter." She took his offered arm and walked out of the willow's branches to the open glade before the cluster of trees. "To be honest with you, your uncles and I had no idea we would be traveling with Lady Arwen until a few days prior. Her guards ran off and were murdered by a stray pack of orcs."
Coruwen kept her tongue still for a moment when Kain's Dunedain troop surfaced in her mind. Enough of this madness, why must she let such worries perturb her? Shaking off the thoughts, she focused on keeping pace with her father's longer strides. She had walked with Glorfindel before, who was taller than her father by half a head. Yet she stumbled on her own feet like a bumbling fawn.
Her countenance slipped, revealing her inward confusion to him. "What bothers you, Coruwen?" Haldir asked at last. She glanced up at him and then bowed her head again. "Lady Arwen has told me of the ordeals you have faced in the past few months. It is no surprise to me that you are as distressed as you are."
"Ada… Your statement reminds me of a troop of Dunedain that left weeks ago for the north, they have yet to return," She answered, digging her nails into his arm. Her father cocked up an eyebrow at her words, but said nothing. "And that only adds to what goes on around me."
He plucked her nails out of his doublet like one would pluck a cat's claws out of a shirt. "Of that I have no doubt."
They walked back to the main courtyard, where Faenaur greeted them with a loud whinny and stamp of his feet. Coruwen smiled as her father stalked over to Faenaur and greeted him with a pat on the nose. When he returned to her side, her horse's snort of disapproval made her laugh quietly. But it was with a heavy heart that she bid her father farewell for the time being when they reached the top of the stairwell that led up to the council chamber. Haldir told her he would find her later in the evening.
When she returned to her chambers, she found a small box nestled into the folds of her coverlet. The box was small, and whiter than milk with a tiny letter on the top of it. Intrigue prodded her as she sat on the edge to take up the small box. It was light… She switched the box into one hand while she pried open the letter with the other.
The letters were clearly scrawled in haste, but she ignored the bits of ink that dotted the paper. Instead, she smiled at the name at the bottom. Elladan… Her heart reflected the smile on her face with ease. With tentative fingers, she undid the clasp of the box to find a tiny, crystalline vial nestled in purple velvet within. She picked up the vial and nearly hissed at how bitterly cold it was. It was a near-perfect tear in shape and within the vial, there looked to be water. Coruwen slipped the vial around her neck. Fingers of cold pinched her skin as it settled round her neck.
As the light of day faded, she slowly began to pick up various books that she needed to return to Erestor, a few spools of thread that had escaped her sewing basket thanks to Aiwë, and found her medical bag in the far corner stuffed into her old riding boots.
"Confounded cat," Coruwen hissed as she riffled through the bag to check its contents. Her needle and the bits of vinegar rinsed thread were still there, but Aiwë had run off with her herbs. Why did that not shock her?
As she started to rise with her bag, a knock came at her door. The bag fell from her grip in a thud. When she gave an answer, Arwen slid into the room with a bundled up cloak in her arms. The Lady Undomiel flashed a smile at her before dropping the bundle on her bed.
"I have something for you," Arwen laughed when Coruwen stalked closer, curiosity becoming almost unbearable. Whatever she possessed was shiny in a way, for Coruwen could see the tails of embroidered, sheer fabric sticking out of the cloak's confines. Then her friend's earlier words smacked her like a hammer in the head. A sly grin found its way onto her face. Arwen smiled foxily as well and began to unwrap the cloak to reveal a dress.
It was a beautiful shade of lilac with a bodice that climbed to the arches of her collarbone covered in a glittering, sheer fabric that had elegantly swooping lines of jasmine flowers on the hem of the slender sleeves and neckline. Arwen gently scooped it up and held it out for her to see the long train that followed after the dress with the same jasmine flowers on the edges. Her hands itched to touch it, but in a strange way she felt as though it would break if she so much as graced it.
"Arwen…" Her friend's name came out as a breath. Arwen smiled brightly through the sheer fabric. "What…? What is this?"
"This is a dress that I commissioned in Lothlórien for you," Her friend explained. Running her fingers over the fabric, she found it to be slick yet soft. "After all, your begetting day is in a week's time, is it not?"
Coruwen was struck dumb by Arwen's realization, "Y-Yes it is."
"All the more reason for you to have a new dress," Lady Undomiel placed the dress on the bed again before taking a hold of her hand. Quickly her eyes narrowed at the vial at her collarbone. "Ai, Adar gave it to you…"
Coruwen's fingers rushed to the vial, "Elladan did actually…."
Her smile softened, "It will look pretty with the dress. Or at least I think."
It never occurred to her that Arwen would have known about the vial. If Elladan had given it to her, then if meant that Elrond might have known what it did as well? It certainly seemed logical. She found herself still smiling. As she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers graced the intercut jasmine flowers on the train of her dress.
"Thank you, Arwen. This… This is wonderful," Coruwen nearly laughed. Her friend regarded her curiously when her words faded off. "What does this vial mean?"
Arwen rounded the corner of her bed and picked up the vial with gentle fingers. The water within rattled quietly while she shook it. Frowning, she said, "If I understood Ada's letter, this is an antidote for orc poisons. It should be able to cure almost anything, but I never know with antidotes, they are…"
"Fickle?" Coruwen enquired. Arwen nodded and sat beside her. In a rush, the vial suddenly weighed more than a boulder about her neck. She tightened her fist around it to alleviate the weight, but it was futile. It wound its hands around her neck and choked her. Arwen's hand took hers quietly, "I should be thankful that I did not kill him."
Arwen's hand tightened around hers. "He knew what would happen. And he placed his life in your hands."
The coil around her heart lessened a tiny bit. However, ease never came to her. Mayhaps it never would, knowing her. But hetrusted her, as she trusted him… At the thought, a smile graced her face, albeit small and genuine. "You are not wrong. The stress of the Dunedain riding north has certainly taken its toll upon me. And my test only tripled it."
"Do you have the power within yourself to be free of concern for a few days?" Her smile died on her lips. Was it truly possible? She had a nasty habit of over-thinking situations, even small things. Every idea, or task, seeped into her bones like a bite. Her father was here, her uncles as well, and soon the troop would be returning to Imladris… Coruwen nodded slowly. "A-Are you sure?"
"How hard could it be?" An airy laugh escaped her, mostly aimed at herself more than Arwen. She hid her smile underneath her palm, "I mean, why should I condemn myself?"
Her friend did not smile, "Coruwen, I am not asking you to stop being yourself… I only ask you to simply let the concerns not hinder your happiness."
The words stopped her humorless laughing short. And then silence choked out her voice to nothing more than a hiss. Another nod shook her head, this time for more true. Arwen tightened her hands around hers with a smile brimming on her lips. "Thank you," she whispered.
~.~.~
Coruwen fidgeted with the hem of her train impatiently. The moon danced on the jasmine flowers, weaving sliver-white into fabric as she appeared like a lilac crystal underneath its gaze. Her fingers pinched and tucked long strands of her hair behind her ear in a fit of nervousness. With each movement of her head, her hair flew out from behind her ear to stray into her eyes. Without a diadem or braids, her hair went every which way until she temporarily fixed the problem by twisting back a few more strands.
A pair of hands took her shoulders and she yelped. Turning, she found a set of royal blue eyes regarding her kindly. "Glorfindel," She sighed, placing her hand on his. "I-I thought…"
"That I was someone else?" He smiled at her, "I could say the same for you."
Blush warmed her ears and crept along the back of her neck underneath the shade of her hair. Her eyes fixed on the silver cloak that hung from his shoulders. She was quiet for a long moment until he broke the silence, "Walk with me?"
Coruwen's eyes flicked up to his. The sea touched the sky for a brief moment before they returned to their separate worlds. She took his offered arm, only taking a moment to swing her train behind her so that she would not trip on it.
"Your father has spoken highly of you, my dear. Or rather, at least to me he has expressed his pride," Glorfindel said. There was a deeply rooted concern in his voice that dared to bleed over into her. It threatened her, taunted her with every ribald jape it knew, but she shoved it away. She spoke quicker than he by placing her fingers on his wrist.
"What is bothering you?" He blinked owlishly at her for a brief moment. Coruwen traced a faint, silvery scar on the thin, exposed flesh of his wrist. His pulse thrummed lightly underneath her fingertips, and she swirled them up and over the heel of his hand. His hands turned in a snap and caught her hands, forcing a quiet gasp from her. She stared at their hands, long and slender but quite different in a sense. She continued to observe them in silence, but whispered, "Glorfindel, please."
"I will not allow myself to bother you-," She turned a look up at him, one that was stern yet quietly begging him to tell her. A long sigh escaped him. "Do not tell anyone this."
"Have I ever had reason to betray you?"
Her lord chuckled humorlessly, a laugh that stung her heart. "A hawk arrived yesterday with news from the Dunedain troop. Kain, Elrohir, and the Head Ranger are all that are left…We sent Mithrandir to find them. But he found an item of interest on the head scout."
A coil of pain wound itself around her heart. It wound itself tighter and tighter, and ignored her useless pining for it to cease. Her hands clutched her lord's tighter until her knuckles paled. "What…What did they find?"
"A bounty…" The words fell like a stone. "But it was in the tongue of Mordor… The Black Speech, it is called by Men."
Coruwen frowned, "Who was the bounty for?"
"A man by the name of Thorin Oakenshield," Glorfindel shut his eyes for a brief moment in thought. Coruwen could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, his frown became a near scowl, and when he opened his eyes… The dark fire of anger seethed within.
"He is the heir to the throne of Erebor. A throne that was taken captive by a dragon, or that is what Erestor told me. But that remains beside the point - Why would orcs be hunting him?"
The irritation that would have been present, faded away. "I would not know, my dear. But it bothers me to no end, even though I do not who this man is." And then all at once Glorfindel sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I should not worry you on such a night. It… It was wrong."
"Tis better to let words speak freely than bottle them up. I… I know the feeling of keeping ideas or words locked away without ever thinking that it might hinder me."
Glorfindel's smile was small and then vanished when he brushed a kiss onto her knuckles. He stayed with her when no one else sought her out, which she was thankful for by the time she left him. The dwindling thoughts of what had happened to Kain and his kin… It nagged at her, even when she tried to sleep. Despite her day being quite pleasant, her dreams were far from it.
Snow whirled around her feet, the trees whispering amongst themselves like shy children while the wind tosses their spiky tops. The world around her was dark through the trees, and the only light she could see was that of the moon that hung above. The snow kicked up under the hem of her dress … The cold avoided her but the snow clung to her skirts, lining them with a bit of hoarfrost.
Coruwen spun her skirts, the frost never dragged her down, it merely added a wintry lace to the bottom of the plain, ebon cloth. She could feel herself smiling, a bright childish smile that she had long since forgotten. Spinning again, she laughed, snow flying up in her wake. Her laugh sounded terribly alien to her ears, as if she had never heard it before.
Her laughter died when a growl made her back straighten painfully. Whirling, she faced the carnal growl with fear cutting at her heart. Stalking toward her was a black wolf, its fur dappled with large bits of icy lace. It snarled at her, white teeth flashing and black nose crinkling in disdain. Her body refused to move, as if the wolf's presence had crippled her sense of flight. It was like Leitos… The same, crippling fear ran through her. It stalked forward until she could feel its growl shake her chest.
Her feet then began to move, to run, in fact she was sprinting from this wolf. The snow crunched underfoot, but her heart casted out the sound to replace it with a reminder of her fear. Her heart beat like a horse's hooves in her ears. It beat in her ears until she swore her head would burst from the pressure. That was until the wolf caught her skirts with its teeth and the pressure pounded in her temples.
The ice and snow rose up and swallowed her with the wolf being their herald. Hot pain coursed down her back and up into her skull, sharper than a blade. Breath escaped her in puffs of steam, only rising a few inches before the wolf's breath snuffed it out like a candle with its own. It had a dark gaze, one that made her heart jump and flutter like a caged bird.
"What do you want?" She whispered as she struggled to get to her feet. Its grin lessened a bit and its eyes opened a tiny bit more. Coruwen swallowed thickly as it sat on its haunches – looking at her.
Taking a moment, she observed the wolf. It was a handsome, weathered creature. Its eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and grey, filled with a child-like curiosity. They were striking against the darkness that covered it from nose to tail. They reminded her more of the sea than her mentor's, they even possessed a swirling maelstrom of colors that could only live in the sea. Her eyes traveled to its scarred shoulders, where she found risen pink scars racing from one side to the other. The wolf cocked its head to the side in interest when she lifted a hand to touch its battle nicked ear. When it came close to its head, the wolf's ears flattened against its head and growled low in its throat.
Backing away her hand, she leaned on her elbows in the snow. All around them, the snow pranced and whirled with tiny snowflakes turning smooth circles in an infinite dance. In one movement, the wolf hopped off of her to allow her to stand. The removal of its weight was a small godsend since her legs had lost feeling in them when the wolf had sat on her knees. It stared up at her with curious eyes. If only she could touch it without it growling.
"May I touch your ear?" Coruwen asked sweetly, kneeling down to its level. Its ears perked up at her voice. She began to lift her hand with a pace that a slug could outpace with ease. The wolf never noticed… Her hand connected with the wolf's ear and it flinched. But it never snarled… It only gazed at her curiously. The wolf pressed its heavy head into her palm, groaning happily. The warmth of satisfaction curled up in her chest like a cat next to a hearth.
She moved her hand through the wolf's course, but plush fur. It never growled at her after that. It let her run her fingers through its fur until she had enough of petting it. But when she made to stand, it rumbled low in its throat. Meeting its blue gaze, a twist of heartache slapped her in the face. Did it not want her to leave? Her fingers dipped down and rubbed the bridge of its nose. It was when she tried to abandon the wolf that surprise tackled her to the floor. Its nose was pushed under her palm, cold and wet. She could feel its breath steam out of it with each breath, she could feel the ever so slight pulse there was well.
Suddenly the wolf jerked free of her hand, turned, and ran off into the thicket of shadows. Coruwen stared through the thicket after the wolf, but it never returned. Why had it left? What caused it to leave? As she turned away from the trees, one could hear the wolf begin to howl. It howled it sorrowful song to the pendant-like moon far, far above the world. The howl forced from her eyes, and made her knees buckle.
As the tears dissolved into the snow, her vision blurred but the song never died…
Coruwen sat upright with a tight chest, gasping for air. She could hear the wolf's song in her ears still, and tears continued to slip from her eyes. They soaked her bed sheets and they stung. She screwed her eyes shut until glowing spots scarred her eyes. She wanted to think of something else or someone! Too many tears had been spilt these past few days. Tears that were never meant to fall…!But when she tried to think of other images, all her mind could see was the wolf sitting in the snow with the wind in its fur…
A/N: Happy Valentines Day, everyone! :) And this is my present to you all. So, if you didn't figure it out, we're in the part of the story that was shown at the very beginning of Desolation of Smaug. I tweaked it a tiny bit to fit in with the Dunedain, but it's only a tiny change that I hope won't hinder your reading. Or, one could have thought of it as the Dunedain found Gandalf after he had dealt with the orc scouts..
Thank you all for reviewing, favoriting, and following these past few chapters - it means a lot to me!
If you want to follow me on tumblr, please look me up under this penname! And please, favorite, follow, and review if you liked this chapter.
May the stars watch over you,
-Angel
