Then the real excitement came. Emerald had taken to entertaining herself on the balcony with the youngest two of her brothers, the three of them sitting lazily on benches, all three feeling the pains of being unable to leave their confines, for Gildas had grown even stricter about Emerald staying put. It was there that Lord Elrond found her, his hands clasped regally before his body so that his sleeves hid his hands and cascaded down in a curtain in front of him.
She looked up at him with surprise that he should come find her, though this quickly changed to anxiety when he asked, "Lady Emerald, might you walk with me?" She didn't bother asking leave of Tegryn and Hergest, just slipped her arm through his and sent her brothers a confused look.
Once they had strolled some distance away where the curving walkways and trees gave a safe area for shared confidences, Lord Elrond mentioned vaguely, "Lady Emerald, we have new guests come to Imladris."
"Oh? What sort of guests?"
"Glorfindel returned this morning, and with him arrives a ranger and four halflings who–"
"Frodo!" Emerald gasped and turned her wide eyes to Lord Elrond. "He's made it, then, safe and sound."
"So it would seem, though it is taking all my skills as a healer to heal him from a wound he received from a morgul blade some days ago."
"Ai! Is he healing, though?" Emerald gasped, concern instantly flooding her voice. If Elrond felt himself taxed to heal such a wound, it must be terrible.
Lord Elrond replied, "Yes, though I do not know that he shall ever entirely heal. He will carry the scar from that wound for the rest of his days, I fear." Emerald wanted to dismiss that as anything horrible –she had plenty of scars, and that didn't matter. Elrond's tone, however, clued her in that it was much more serious when it came from a morgul blade. "The reason, however, that I have asked you to come with me is that the halfling Frodo carries with him an item–"
"The ring!" Emerald gasped again. She had been right! Here it was, just like she had insisted it would be, and here too were guests to Lord Elrond's house, and so everything was playing out just as she had said it would.
Lord Elrond nodded his strong head and explained, "Yes. I wonder if you might come with me and identify it as the item in your dream or not."
"I don't think there's much question about it," Emerald insisted, but when Elrond pressed the matter she agreed to, if it was really that important to him. Through their speech, they had crossed to the far side of the House, and here Elrond led her to a room in which, tucked into a bed made for someone quite a bit larger than himself was a small creature that looked no older than a boy in size and yet had a wearisome about him on his ashen face and taught lips that Emerald wanted to associate with age. He indeed looked ill, and Emerald frowned at his clammy skin, the sweat on his brow, the way he lay still and yet seemed to wander in dreams through some dark place. She sat down on the edge of the bed and lay her dainty hand on his forehead, and instantly his arms and legs relaxed, as though through her a calming peace had washed over him. She smiled, then noticed the silver chain around his neck, and tugging on this brought a golden band out from beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. There was nothing exceptional about the ring except that it seemed so familiar to Emerald, for she had seen it many times before in her dreams, and yet only now for the first time with her own eyes.
She gasped and let go of the ring as the memory of that flaming red eye, the eye of Sauron, stirred in her mind as real as the bed she sat on. Her hand immediately pulled back from the chain so that the ring slipped back under his shirt and her fingers reached for her own ring, strung on a similar chain around her own neck. The one ring, such a simple piece of jewelry, seemed suddenly so heavy and dangerous that Emerald felt the urgent need to put as much space between herself and it as possible.
"It is the same," she nodded, rising gently from the bed and turning to Lord Elrond. "And yet in person it feels so much darker."
"Do you have the desire to put it on?" Elrond asked cooly, regarding her face closely.
Emerald shook her head, "No, I don't want to touch it. I want to keep as far from it as possible."
"Yet in the dream you put it on–"
"No, I did not know then what it was. Now I do and I fear it. I would not put this ring on now; it is not for me to wear."
The comment seemed so strange coming from a girl who had thus far shown always boldness and curiosity and a head-strong will of her own that Elrond looked at her even more closely and inquired, "What would you have done with it, then?"
"I would have it destroyed," Emerald quickly answered, stepping further from the bed as Frodo stirred in his sleep, afraid her voice would awaken him. "I don't know how, but as long as it exists, it'll continue to haunt Middle Earth."
"Very well. Come away, then; that is all I ask of you for the moment, though I believe the time for questions is just beginning. If you desire, I am sure Frodo's travel companions would be pleased to meet you."
Emerald nodded, but it was not to find out the other three hobbits that she went. Instead she spent the rest of the afternoon pouring over books in the library to learn as much as she could about morgul blades and the wounds they left. There wasn't much, though. Morgul blades were the weapon of choice of the nazgul, which she supposed couldn't mean anything good to begin with. The only other reference to "morgul" that she could find was referring to Minas Morgul, an old watchtower of Gondor that had been taken over by the nazgul, though it was built many years before that by Elendil and his sons, then called Minas Ithil. She did a little research on the nazgul while she was at it, hoping to find names, though she wasn't sure what knowing their names (or rather the names of the men they used to be) would do, but she found only one: Khamûl, also called the Black Easterling, or even Sauron's lieutenant. From there, she looked for anything about the Easterlings, but all that the library of Imladris held on them stated that they were dark men from the East who constantly attacked Gondor and had forever proved an enemy to Middle-Earth, and then several watered-down histories of rulers and battles and such that didn't provide anything important. Emerald wondered why they kept attacking –was it land? cultural differences? kingdom strife?
Only in the most untouched, insignificant corner of the library did she find any other mention of the Easterlings and their frequent allies, the Haradrim from the South: a book with cracked pages and water marks on many of the pages mentioned that the Easterlings and the Haradrim had been in confidence with Morgoth, Sauron's predecessor and mentor of sorts who served as the resident dark lord back in the First Age. Likewise, many of both groups of men had served Sauron last time, and that caught Emerald's attention. That was definitely worth mentioning, because if they served him last time, they were likely to serve him again, weren't they? Which meant that should things escalate to a war as she feared they would were the ring not destroyed as she hoped, there would be battles of men versus men, or Elves versus men, or whatever. For some reason, men seemed a much more formidable opponent than orcs, though she had nothing on which to base that opinion.
With any of this, she worried most for Gondor, for it stood blocked in one three sides by the enemy –near at hand were the lands of the Easterlings and the Haradrim, and just next door was Mordor where Sauron had called home last time and most likely did now as well.
Emerald's studies were interrupted by a call to supper, and though her intention had been to return and continue, maybe see if she hadn't missed something in a book shoved into a cranny that she hadn't checked, she found herself instead thrust into the company of two small hobbits, that of Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. It was explained to her that the third of their party, Samwise Gamgee, had taken to sitting by Frodo's side, where he was at the moment, and "Pippin" and "Merry", as they asked to be called, seemed worried as well about their friend's health. Emerald took it upon herself, then, to cheer them up a little, and by the time she retired to her room late that night, more than a couple laughs had sounded from the balcony on which she had lounged with her two new acquaintances plus Tegryn, and Hergest.
The next morning, Emerald awoke from a dream of which she remembered nothing but the word or name, whichever it was, "Ivorwen." She didn't think much on it, and was able to forget it for the time being as she hurried off to meet Merry and Pippin as she had promised to do so. On the way to them, she passed Gloin and his son who quickly thundered away from her to prevent a meeting, and then Lady Arwen talking to Beven, and then Legolas, who did not notice her as he gazed out from a balcony with his back to her, and then Galdor with whom she chatted for several minutes before begging his pardon and hurrying off. It gave her a strange sense of excitement to be in this foreign house that had become so familiar to her with these foreign people that, likewise, had become tangible figures after all the dreams and signs and whatnot. Now that Frodo was here, things could proceed... and yet she still felt as though a person or two was missing. It wasn't time just yet.
The morning was pleasant enough with the company of Pippin and Merry who gained esteem in Emerald's eyes as two creatures of highly amusing capabilities. She sat next to Arwen to eat lunch, then took to wandering around the grounds for a while before suddenly recalling the word that had hung over into her waking hours from the night. Ivorwen. The best place, she decided, to begin looking was in the library, though the task seemed so daunting since she wasn't sure in the least whether Ivorwen was a person or a place or a thing, and any of the above would direct her search in a far different direction. That in mind, she decided the best course of action was to seek Lord Elrond out and run the word past him first to see if he had any ideas.
It was as she was seeking the Elf lord that she came across two other figures, both familiar to Rivendell, seated approximately two feet apart on a bench in the gardens though the awkward atmosphere between them seemed to take up much more space than two feet. Emerald paused to smile at Arwen and ask if she knew where her father might possibly be, but then she took note of her company, a man dressed in silver and black with dark hair framing a rugged face and the sharpest blue eyes Emerald could remember...and she did remember them!
Just as she opened her mouth to address Arwen, she gasped and cried, "You!"
Arwen and the man both gave her baffled looks and the latter asked, "Is there something–"
"Ah, but you don't remember me!" Emerald laughed at herself, shaking her head at his confused look.
"King Orwig's fairy daughter," he filled in, looking at Emerald with amused eyes.. "I would not have recognized you, I don't think, had not Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen and my friend Legolas told me much about you, though you are not so different, though many years older. But you are an Elf, after all, and have not aged as I have."
"Come now. You aren't so old yet," Emerald insisted, smiling impishly. "Not bad for a watered-down Elf!"
Arwen gave an amused smile and after her lilting laughter repeated questioningly, "A watered-down Elf?"
"I'm quite sure he is descended from Elves through many, many, many generations. Don't you agree there's just something awfully regal about him? In a sort of wild, rugged way, of course," Emerald teased. And suddenly his name came to her as though it had never slipped her mind, and she wondered why it had for so long. "Aragorn... it means 'valiant king' or something along those lines anyways, doesn't it?"
Aragorn grinned, "You know better than I, Princess."
"As long as we all understand this," she laughed. "And I hope I was given a fair description by all three of your informants."
"Nothing I didn't expect from the same person who set fire to the throne room, flooded the kitchens, and turned a wolf lose at a banquet for myself and several other rangers, all within a week's time..." Aragorn mused, and this only made Emerald laugh again as she assured him, "You are right; I haven't changed so much at all. However, this time I haven't come to bother you for a story or anything of that sort. I'm in search of Lord Elrond. Might either of you know where he is?" The serious look Aragorn gave her made Emerald wonder just what Elrond had told him about her, just how much he knew about her involvement.
Arwen was the one to shake her head gracefully and reply, "No, I have not seen him since this morning. Is everything all right?"
"Well, nothing's the matter," Emerald answered. "I just remember this single word from a dream I had last night, and I was hoping that he might be able to point me in the right direction of figuring out what it means."
"What is the word?" Aragorn asked, then added, "Not that I will know, but perhaps either of us will recognize it." Emerald decided right then that though Lord Elrond probably hadn't told him everything –at least she hoped he hadn't, for she was getting the impression that the fewer people that knew anything, the better– he had definitely shared something.
"Ivorwen," Emerald answered, not caring if they knew at least that much. "I'm not sure if it's a person or a place or what."
Aragorn nodded and waited until she finished her sentence, then answered, "Fortunate for you, then, that I can clear your confusion, though but a little. Ivorwen is a person, the wife of Dírhael of the Dúnedain and my mother's mother."
"Oh?" Emerald was obviously surprised by this and instantly a dozen and more questions began running through her mind as to why she was suddenly having dreams concerning Aragorn's grandmother. "Well that is much help!"
"I'm glad, though I'm sorry I can't tell you more, for I did not grow up among my mother's people–"
"No, that's quite all right," Emerald assured him. "I can take it from there. Maybe I'll even remember my dream... that would be most helpful... But anyways, I won't take up any more of your time, though I might trouble you later for more tales of your adventures."
"I'm sure you will, and I'm sure I'll indulge you," he returned with a laugh. "For I've yet to find anyone who can resist the Princess of Arathilian." Emerald admitted that his might be true, then kissed Arwen on the cheek, and hurried off feeling very proud of herself that the atmosphere she left Arwen and Aragorn in was no longer awkward at all.
She ventured to the library and there found Beven, nose buried in a book though he looked up at her entrance and greeted, "Emmy. What are you getting into at the moment?"
"Nothing bad," Emerald promised. "Actually, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for information about an Ivorwen, wife of Dírhael of the Dúnedain and grandmother of Aragorn who, by the way, is the ranger that tells good stories."
Beven laughed hard at that and, shaking his head, insisted, "At least he has a name now. Well, and what's so important about his grandmother?"
"I'm not sure. It's all I remember from a dream I had last night."
"Well, if there's one thing I've learned, it's to follow your hunches wherever they might lead, so let's look..." Which is what they did for the remained of the afternoon, and what they found impressed both of them and intrigued Emerald to further action. Aragorn was actually Aragorn II, son of Arathorn and Gilraen, the latter of which was the daughter of Ivorwen and the former of which, and thus himself, was through many generations the descendent of Isildur.
"That means... that means Aragorn is the rightful king of Gondor!" Emerald gasped, looking up at Beven in awe. "What's he doing as a ranger if he's a king?"
Beven corrected, "Just because that's his ancestry doesn't mean that's what he knows, or what he's chosen, or what he's meant for. Gondor has been ruled by stewards for almost a thousand years now."
"All right, I'll accept that. But either way, Aragorn is entirely wrapped up in this whether he wants to be or not, I think. The ring is called 'Isildur's Bane', after all."
"So that means Aragorn has to be involved? Just because his ancestor was? I thought we were beyond children paying for the mistakes of their fathers."
"Descendents always pay for the mistakes of their ancestors. It's an unwritten rule," Emerald argued. "But we can think about that later. For now, what's the importance of Ivorwen?"
"These books say next to nothing about her that you don't already know. I would ask Lord Elrond."
Emerald sighed with frustration, but the more dead ends she found, the more determined she was, so she went off once again in search of Lord Elrond and this time found him leaving Frodo's room. When he saw her, he answered her first question, "He is recovering well, as well as I dared to hope. You have a question for me?"
"Yes. What can you tell me about Aragorn's grandmother Ivorwen? I just came from the library, so I already know all about how he's the King of the Gondor and all that," she rattled off with such casualness that it brought an amused smile to Elrond's face. "But I had a dream last night, and all I remember is the name Ivorwen."
"What is it you are asking of me, then?"
"Was there anything... you know, special about her, that would tie her to everything that's going on? You met her, I'm sure, right?"
Elrond nodded, "Yes, I did, though I was not closely acquainted with her. Do you know the story of Aragorn's parents?"
"Yes. That Arathorn wanted to marry Gilraen, but her father said she was too young, so Ivorwen convinced him to let them marry."
"That is correct. When Aragorn was only a small child, Arathorn was killed by orcs, and Gilraen brought him here, begging me to care for him, as I have done since then."
"What happened to Gilraen?"
"She was not of the Noble blood of the Dunedain and died while Aragorn was still a child. Her grave is here in Rivendell, if you're curious to see it."
"And what about Ivorwen? Why did she convince her husband to let Arathorn and Gilraen marry?"
Elrond replied, "That is anyone's guess. It is said that Ivorwen had the gift of foresight, so perhaps he bent to her will for a greater good."
"And whatever happened to Ivorwen?"
"I'm afraid I cannot answer that. I do not believe she, either, was of the noble blood, though I suppose it is possible..." he trailed off, as if he hadn't thought it for many years. "However, after her husband was killed, I heard no more of her, and believe she is dead, though I could not prove that to you. If she were still alive, she would be well into her hundreds at present, and that is an old age even for those of the noble blood. Which, did she possess it, was not passed onto her daughter, and therefor is unlikely to have been present in Ivorwen."
"But she might still be alive!" Emerald cried, her eyes lighting up. "You haven't ever thought, or Aragorn hasn't, of finding his grandmother if she's still alive?"
"As I told you, I was not a close acquaintance of Ivorwen's, and Aragorn... Aragorn is not ready to recognize his ancestry. Ivorwen has never sought him out, though, and Gilraen did not look to her mother for help when Arathorn was killed, which is why I believe she is dead. I do not, however, know everything," he admitted to Emerald, and that made her laugh.
"No, I think you do, Lord Elrond," she teased. "However, for my own heart, I think I shall hope that Ivorwen is still alive and that she might see Aragorn. He's an awfully nice man."
"Yes, he is," Elrond agreed.
"Well thank you Lord Elrond. That's all," Emerald smiled, then turned and hurried off, thinking to herself that people didn't just disappear. Even if she had died, there should be a note of it somewhere, and Emerald felt the need to find either such a note or Ivorwen herself, though she couldn't pinpoint just why she felt the need to do so.