Chapter Eleven

Strictly Business

A/N: Yay for updates!

That day ended beautifully: shortly after re-acquainting Isis with an elderly Bilbo, Gandalf informed them that Frodo was awake at last, and quite revitalised. Ember introduced her sister properly to the hobbits, who stared up at her as though in the presence of a fallen star, and they all spent the evening peacefully enjoying the birdsong in Rivendell's gardens, along with some sweet wine.

The following day, absolutely everything changed. Ember was well aware Elrond had sent for allied representatives to join an emergency meeting of his council, but she hadn't realised they would all show up within hours of each other. She, Isis, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin watched from a high balcony close to the front gates, curious to see who would arrive, as soon as a flourish of Elven trumpets sounded in time with cantering horse hooves.

'Look Mister Frodo,' said Sam excitedly, 'Dwarves!'

Ember missed a breath. For one extraordinarily irrational moment she expected to see Kili, Fili, and Thorin all riding in on ponies. There were four Dwarves, but none familiar to her. Isis did however sense her sister's piqued alertness.

'Are any of them from the company?'

'I honestly cannot tell.' She stepped back from the balcony.

'Something wrong, Ember?' asked Frodo.

'Do not be afraid to be seen,' said Isis, a hand on her sister's arm. 'If you're to attend a Council with them, you may as well introduce yourself now.'

'Introduce myself?' said Ember. 'Precisely what makes me so uneasy is the thought that they'll already know who I am.'

'They will know the legend,' said Isis, 'But not the woman.'

'Is that another Rivendell Elf riding through?' said Merry, peering over the balcony, 'Or does he hail from-'

'Legolas!' Isis waved swiftly and gracefully at the blonde Elf who descended from his horse, both wearing green crests. He - and some of the dwarves - looked their way and gave a brief, polite smile. Isis beamed even as she had to drag Ember out of the shade. 'Come now Ember, you cannot very well represent yourself from behind a pillar.'

The hobbits stayed where they were - 'it's nice to have the higher view for a change,' said Pippin. Isis hurried down the corridors with a reluctant Ember behind her, until they were at the top of the courtyard stairs in the sun, quite without anywhere to hide. Ember half-entertained a wish for the sun to camouflage her white skin and clothes (Kili's blue cloak was folded on her bed), but when those present in the courtyard fixed their stares, she resigned herself to visibility and followed Isis down the steps.

Her sister rushed over to Legolas, but stopped short of embracing him. Instead, they exchanged smiles and he lightly kissed her hand. Elves were not known for their outward displays of affection, but even this was more like a greeting between two members of court than a future husband and wife. They exchanged some polite words. It was surreal to hear Isis, still in Ember's mind a Westbrook girl of farm and woodland, speaking perfect Elvish, but she'd evidently had plenty of time to learn. Isis must have said something about Ember, because Legolas looked up at her, back to his fiancée, and back again. She swallowed her apprehension and walked up to him.

'Suilad, Legolas, son of Thranduil,' she said, using the Elvish word for "hello" she'd heard used around Rivendell. 'The last time I recall seeing you was amongst slain spiders in Mirkwood, although I suppose you saw me several times thereafter…in a manner of speaking.'

He nodded back at her, unable to collect enough words for a response. She held his gaze but conveyed no expectation for him to speak right away. The last time Legolas saw Ember she would have been, as the artists had it, hovering in the air above Erebor, the Arkenstone flowing in her veins instead of blood. And before that, he would have seen Ember as a host for Cauna's dark misdeeds. She knew he fast had to see her in a different light.

'Ember…' he said at last. 'They claimed you faded from the world.'

'I did. And now, by designed or accidental cosmic coincidence, I am returned.'

'Then allow me to bid you three tokens,' said Legolas, his eyes soft. 'First, my welcome at your return.'

'Thank you.'

'Second,' he said, 'My condolences. It was clear you loved him dearly.' This unexpected sympathy brushed against Ember's heart like heavy drapes. She didn't have to turn around to know that Kili was shadowing her at that very moment. 'Third and finally,' said Legolas, dropping into a full bow at the knee, 'My gratitude. Many lives, my father's included, were spared because of your intervention.'

My quite accidental intervention, Ember added privately. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

'Think nothing of it,' she said, as Legolas rose. 'Really. Please don't. People need to stop doing that.'

'Still, most extraordinary,' he said, 'To see you here, entirely untouched by time.'

'She was extraordinary e'en before that,' came a slow, distantly familiar voice from behind. Ember turned to find one of the dwarves, the eldest by far, grinning warmly up at her.

Ember frowned, before her senses reached out to pair this face with one from the past.

'Are you…Gloin?'

'She remembers me,' he said, puffed with pride, to a much younger dwarf on his left. 'Ember, dear lass, to think you might re-appear on this earth after all these long years! Wherever have y'been?'

'The blink of an eye away,' she said. 'But dear me, how have you been? And the others -'

'Well, that's in part why we are here,' wheezed Gloin. His flaming red braids had frizzled grey. 'There have been some suspicious things afoot as of late which need discussing with his Lordship. But…actually,' his tone became hopeful, 'Ember, I don't suppose you've, ahem, seen anything concerning the whereabouts of Balin, Oin or Ori, have ye?'

Ember felt immediately worried by this question.

'I'm sorry Gloin, but I haven't. And whatever…state I happen to be in, particular intents of foresight are not something that can be summoned at will. If by any chance I do see something, I'll of course inform you.'

'Much appreciated, lass,' sighed Gloin, before brightening a little. 'By the way, this is my son, Gimli.'

As Gloin's deep rust-haired son bowed with his axe, Ember tried to figure out where she'd heard that name before.

In Mirkwood, whispered Kili over her shoulder. She shivered at his imaginary breath. Remember? When the Elves rifled through all our belongings?

'Ah yes,' said Ember, 'Gimli. Your father spoke of you during our quest.'

'M'lady,' said the Dwarf gruffly, ''Tis a fine honour. Though my father insisted I was too young to join the expedition, I grew up on all the tales that came afterward: the Mirkwood spiders, riding barrels down the river, Lake-town and Smaug, and of course, the Living Silmaril.'

'…That's what I'm known as?' said Ember, blinking slowly. 'Goodness. My apologies in advance for falling somewhat short of any high expectations built in my absence.'

Legolas and Gloin were (grimly) acquainted, and from his manners, Gimli seemed to have been raised with the same disdain of Elves as his father. Having said that, he was perfectly courteous when Ember introduced him to Isis. The dwarves and their two advisors then made their way to Elrond for discussions of business. Isis took Legolas to be re-acquainted with Bilbo, and to introduce him to the hobbits. Ember, meanwhile, waited in the gardens just below the courtyard, letting the sun and breeze clear her mind of disorder.

Mid-afternoon, she heard hooves again. Ember opened her eyes and turned on the bench she'd been using for meditation for the last two hours, listening for the voices of the new arrivals.

'Welcome, friends.'

Elrond himself had come to greet them, and in Westron. Footsteps clacked on the polished stone above. Ember stood from the bench but did not ascend the stairs.

'Lord Elrond,' came a man's voice. 'I come representing the people of Gondor in Denethor's stead from Minas Tirith.'

'And are these your advisors?'

'I am the leading advisor, yes.'

Ember was intrigued to hear a mature woman's voice. How far Middle Earth had come in sixty years for a woman to be appointed a leading advisor in a court of men! She crept halfway up the stairs, taking care not to be seen.

'And I the scribe.' Another woman, with a voice as clear as glass. Ember strained her ears.

'Of course, most excellent,' said Elrond. 'Your gift for languages is known well beyond the city. I presume you are content to act as scribe during the Council?'

'My very reason for being here,' said the woman cheerfully, as if this were a holiday.

'We will gather tomorrow. For now I invite you all to rest and enjoy the hospitality Rivendell has to offer.'

'Many thanks, Lord Elrond,' said the man. When their footsteps moved up the courtyard stairs, Ember moved her own feet in parallel. She reached the top in time to see the back of the visitors' heads - five in total. Two silvery-blonde men, one redheaded man, a grey-haired woman, and…

Ember's legs carried her forward before her brain had time to make any detailed plan.

'Surely not,' she whispered as she leapt silently to the top step. The men were being led one way by Elrond, the women another by Arwen. 'Excuse me.'

The two women, and Arwen, stopped in the hallway and turned. The one nearest to Ember froze up, before breaking into a smile that was knowing, sad, and overjoyed all at once.

'It's you,' said Ember. 'You found the last scrolls of Isildur at Minas Tirith.'

'That's right,' said the little librarian. 'And more.'

Ember stared into the woman's face, recognizing almost nothing except those bright, inquisitive eyes. Her mouth fell open, but sound didn't come out for a good few seconds.

'…Quill?'

'You found me.'

The little woman threw her arms around her big sister and held on tight. Ember felt her chest gently rise like a kite on high breezes. Though she shed no tears, her eyes were warm.

'It can't be,' she whispered, 'And yet...I suppose it must.'

'Sixty years is a long time, Ember,' said Quill, stroking her sister's hair. 'Oh Eru…I thought you were a ghost, but I can feel the life in you. You're alive.'

'Yes Quill, I am,' said Ember, opening her eyes. 'I am alive, I am here, I…' She lost the rest of her words. The other grey-haired woman, robed in black, was staring hard at her as if into a mirror. Indeed, they were each other's reflection, of past and future. Ember slowly let go of Quill. 'Astra.'

The woman remained silent, but it was her. Ember felt this truth intensify as she ran to embrace her twin. Suddenly the fortnight in which they had been separated crashed onto her shoulders, and it made emerging from the rubble that much more wonderful. Ember was careful not to squeeze too tight, but Astra made a strange rasping sound as if she'd had the air knocked from her lungs. Her arms eventually hugged back, but lightly. Ember pulled away.

'You have no idea how glad I am to see you…Are you glad to see me?'

She asked because Astra's expression had barely changed. After sixty years, she would be eighty-two. For a witch, that was approaching old, but not so old as to forget the face of one's own twin sister.

'…How are you here.'

'Even I fail to fully understand how,' said Ember. 'But I'm here now, real. Living.'

'Sixty years,' said Astra. Her eyes were cold and hostile. 'Do you know how long that feels to a mortal.'

None of her questions were delivered as questions. It was like time had worn her voice down to monotone.

'I-I'm sorry, Astra,' said Ember, her hands falling away. 'But you must understand I never meant for this - for any of this - to happen.'

'Of course you didn't,' said Astra, as if humouring her. 'But it happened. You pleaded, begged to fade away, and fade you did. Besides…' She stepped back from Ember, casting her eyes up and down in offence. 'Whether in blinding white or darkest black, all I can see in you is…her.'

'Astra!' gasped Quill. Ember felt powerless to say anything in response.

'Because of Cauna, I lost everything,' said Astra, bitterness tainting the monotone. 'My magic. My first and only love. You.'

'But you didn't lose me,' said Ember, her chest tightening. 'I am sorry as anyone else that I landed here so very late, but I am here now.'

'Now is too late. I have had oceans of time to learn how to live without you.'

Arwen ducked her head away, looking as though she wanted to be anywhere on Middle Earth but in that corridor. Quill took tentative steps towards the twins. Ember closed her mouth and swallowed.

'…Are you aware Isis is here too?'

Something in Astra's eyes changed at this news - there was a flash of anger.

'No.'

'Are you aware she's -'

'Yes.' Ember didn't know why she had bothered to ask. She put the next question softly to both Astra and Quill: 'And Mum? Does this mean she's alone at home? Or is she somewhere else?'

Quill's shoulders sank. Astra's eyes lost their anger but remained just as stony.

'Isolda has been dead for ten years,' she said. 'This winter.'

Ember stayed very still. Were it possible, her face would have gone even whiter.

'I am so sorry you have to hear this now,' said Quill, a hand on Ember's back. Astra broke out of her statuesque posture to look at the floor.

'It is old news to us,' she said neutrally. 'Like everything else. I don't know what sort of reception you were expecting, Ember, but I almost refuse to believe you really are standing here, as you were six decades ago. You changed so quickly, so frighteningly, in a matter of days. Excuse me for doing the same over a lifetime.'

She turned to continue walking down the hall. Arwen gave a start, but quickly remembered herself and led Astra through a set of doors. She looked back at Ember and Quill.

'We will speak later,' said Quill gently, a wrinkled hand on her sister's face before going into her own guest room. Arwen stood at the end of the corridor, deliberating about whether to go to Ember or leave her be. She went through a different set of doors.

Ember slowly, mechanically, hugged her arms and turned away. That was when she saw Gandalf at the other end of the corridor, apparently having just emerged from one of the meeting rooms. She wondered how long he'd been standing there.

'My dear,' said Gandalf, stepping fully out from behind a pillar. His eyes were like her father's as she remembered them. Ember walked to him, her eyes shining and burning, but again, only from a lack of blinking. She looked up at the wizard and knew it was perfectly acceptable to be frank.

'I hate this,' she said calmly. 'Everything about this. And I hate the fact that while trying to express hatred, I can't even feel it.'

'To live as powerfully as we do,' said Gandalf, 'We are shielded from our own emotions. You have seen yourself what I am like when those shields are punctured.' Ember recalled how dark Bilbo's living room had gone when Gandalf did nothing but raise his voice. She nodded. 'Think instead on tomorrow,' he said, steering her back to her room. 'For that, I have learnt, is how to numb the pain that comes from, well, the pain being numbed. Live one day at a time, one step at a time.'

She found herself only able to respond in nods. That night, thinking ahead to the council, there was a cauldron of…not pure emotions, but their shadows. Like Kili on the bed next to her, they were present without presence, real without reality: anticipation, anxiety, fear, bitterness, loneliness, grief.

This last taking up the most room in her metaphorical cauldron, Ember imagined packing the shadow grief into a tiny box and putting a lock on its lid. She turned her head to Kili, supine beside her, and handed it to him.

Keep this safe for me?

Of course

She spent the night in a doze, hand reaching for his in the middle of the bedspread.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! If you did (or hey, even if you didn't), you know what to do: get some R&R, if you'll excuse the pun! ↓