Chapter 14

20th December, 3018 (Third Age)

… and Peter Jackson got the Elves entirely wrong. I mean, the movies were wonderful—but even Hugo Weaving somehow falls short of Elrond's real majesty. I suppose you can't expect humans to live up to the task of portraying Elves, for they've got a kind of magic of their own. There is not one who is not slim and agile and athletic, and yet they have all the joy of children. I never knew how funny it would be to play chess with Erestor; I just assumed he'd be a complete Marvin, and no fun at all.

I can't really make a judgement call about the humans here yet, because the only two I have seen are Aragorn and Boromir. Aragorn's had a hard life—his father dead, his mother dead, and years spent wandering in the wild with little food and no bath. Three weeks of that was enough for me!

Boromir's hardly less grim than Aragorn, though. I wonder how early on the Ring starts to affect him… Far out, I still haven't figured out a way to fix that situation… Maybe I should tip Glorfindel off, so Boromir doesn't do an actual Sean Bean…

Speaking of problems, there's a serious one with Sam. I'm completely lost for what to do. I haven't managed to speak to him at all yet, because every time I'm with Merry and Pippin he avoids us. I think the hobbits must be quartered at the other end of the house, because I rarely bump into them on a day-to-day basis, except at mealtimes (Merry and Pippin never miss mealtimes). Bilbo's a dear too; he's constantly wrapped up in his writing and reciting, and it's rather fun to sit and listen to him some evenings, even if his poems go on forever. But yes, I have two problems to solve now, Boromir and Sam, and I've no idea how to fix either of them.

Elanor paused, letting the quill hover above her parchment. The blotted page was scarcely coherent, and yet she had discovered it relieved her a great deal to verbalise the thoughts which flew rashly around her brain.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the soreness in her arms and back. The previous day, Legolas had undertaken to teach her a style of knife fighting which resulted in the tender pain she had awoken to this morning. She was eager to learn as much as possible from him in the time that remained to them, for the idea of seeking a new sparring partner after Christmas didn't appeal to her much.

That said, she found the prospect of resolving her conflict with Sam equally distasteful.

Elanor could not rationalise the hobbit's hatred for her, save that he mourned Frodo deeply and she was a convenient target for his misery. Sighing, she dropped the quill upon the desk. It splattered ink across the parchment, though it was already so sullied it did not concern her. She could not think of anything else to write, and her hand ached from the unfamiliar task of using a quill.

Glancing about her bedroom, Elanor rose from her desk; two months of occupation had altered the chamber considerably. It was less sparsely furnished than before, and the bedlinen had been changed according to her taste. Pictures and maps had been added to the walls, and several armchairs and the desk at which she sat were positioned to provide her with pleasant views over the gardens. The small stove which heated her bathwater was kept lit day and night, and she was grateful for the cosy warmth it emitted.

Gently pressing the parchment to check the ink was dry, Elanor deposited it within her desk drawer.

No good having Indilwen reading that one while I'm out…

Slowly, Elanor moved to the window. Her fingers brushed the icy glass. It was barely mid-morning, and she felt overwhelmingly listless. Imladris had undergone a flurry of activity following the meeting two days before; Elf, Man, Dwarf and Hobbit were all readying themselves for the foray into the wild. Rivendell was chilly enough after her Australian upbringing, but Elanor knew that outside the borders of Elrond's influence the weather would be far less temperate. She had preferred to retreat to her chambers rather than observe the preparations that took place. Legolas still possessed a measure of free time, but both Elrond and Glorfindel were consumed by the task at hand. Gandalf had disappeared entirely, though Elanor thought she had caught a glimpse of him buried amidst a formidable pile of maps the previous evening, and few were not engaged in some form of scheme to aid the Fellowship.

As pleasant as her bedroom was, Elanor loathed the idea of remaining there throughout the day. She had been given quarters in a quiet wing of the house, which housed close friends or family come to stay; she had located Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's room not far from her own, though it was—like most of the wing at that time—empty. However, the short-term guest quarters were far removed from her rooms, as were the chambers occupied by Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen, and the twins Elladan and Elrohir. Few Elves dwelt nearby, and none save Indilwen ever entered. Elanor was so often to be found within Lord Elrond's study that it had become customary for everyone to seek her out there. With her usual haunt closed to her—occupied by councils of the wise—Elanor was left mostly alone. Indilwen was a friendly face, but despite her growing mastery of Sindarin Elanor struggled to engage with the Elf. She spent a great deal of time pouring over Elvish texts, and thus her ability to read and write increased more swiftly than her powers of conversation.

Returning to her desk, Elanor flicked idly through the volumes which formed a neat stack upon it. She had begun to devour Elrond's library, wholly entranced by the new realm of history which opened beneath her feet. She had exhausted the four books in her possession, however. Shrugging to herself, Elanor collected them, slipped a shawl over her shoulders, and made for the library in search of new entertainment.

The library of Imladris was a vaulted chamber, lined by towering shelves. Beautiful paintings stretched across and up the walls until they covered the ceiling, reminding Elanor of the Sistine Chapel. It was cooler than her room, with it's mosaic-tiled floors and soaring arched windows, and she was glad for her wrap as she gently pushed open the door.

In the absence of its usual visitors, the library was enveloped in an air of clinging silence. Elanor padded cautiously across the floor, feeling as if she were an intruder and fervently wishing to hear the musical sound of Elvish laughter or Merry and Pippin's high voices.

Crossing the open entranceway, Elanor returned the books under her arm to their places and began an aimless wandering amidst the rows of shelves. It was easy to become lost in Elrond's library, or to take up residence in one of the cosy nooks and lose all awareness of time. On many occasions, Elanor had spent hours in one such alcove, attempting to pull together pieces of Middle Earth's history or laughing hysterically at Merry and Pippin's tales of the Shire.

The present silence unnerved her a little.

Moving slowly, Elanor scanned briefly the titles upon the spines of the books. Most were simple retellings of the events in The Silmarillion, though she had stumbled upon much more detailed recounts in her perusal of the genuine Elvish texts. However, she occasionally spied a work which greatly interested her; histories of Elvish medicine were always fascinating, she had discovered very quickly. The Elves appeared to have grasped a number of concepts that Elanor recognised from her own world.

Good to know that they've figured out how to prevent infection!

Rounding a corner, Elanor stumbled upon a small figure bent over a desk.

"Bilbo!" she cried, pleased to find someone in the crypt-like silence.

The hobbit glanced up before breaking into a smile. He was propped up on several cushions, and before him was spread a great leather-bound book.

"Lady Elanor; this is a most pleasant surprise!" Placing his quill down carefully, he scrambled to his feet and held out his hands in greeting. "Forgive me for not seeking you out earlier; I have just been recording the last details that Master Samwise has given me of their journey to Rivendell."

Elanor smiled back at him. "That is well, for you shall have plenty more to add when he comes home!"

Bilbo surveyed her for a moment. His face was weathered and lined, and yet there was an irrepressible sparkle in his brown eyes, evidence of the life and fëa the elderly hobbit still possessed.

"I believe you are correct, Lady," he said at last. "Come, though," he grasped her hand and drew her forward, "join me, for I have been at work for many hours and would enjoy some company."

Feeling heartfelt thanks towards the kindly hobbit, Elanor obliged, taking a second chair beside the desk. Bilbo flipped casually through several other pages, attempting to organise his scattered thoughts.

"I have similarly devoted some time to the writing of songs, with the aid of the Dúnadan," he informed her. Seeing Elanor's confusion at the strange title, he clarified, "The Dúnadan is a name I gave Strider—that is, Lord Aragorn—some time ago. Have you spent aught time with him, my lady?" he asked glancing up from his work.

Elanor shook her head. "Scarcely any, I'm afraid. He was absent with the scouting parties for many weeks, and is at present much occupied with Lord Elrond and his family."

"Ah," Bilbo smiled knowingly, "the Undómiel. I should advise you to speak with him, however, ere too long, for his tale is a most interesting one. Lord Elrond himself fostered him here in Rivendell until he had grown to manhood, just as has done with yourself."

Aragorn was Elrond's foster-son?

Wait, does that mean that Aragorn and I are foster-siblings?

"Really?" Elanor asked, unable to contain her surprise.

"Aye," the hobbit sighed, still happily shuffling amongst his prolific works. "He grew alongside the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, as a son of Elrond; Estel, he was named, though he forsook that title not long after his true heritage as Chieftain of the Dúnedain and Isildur's Heir were revealed to him."

"I did not know that Lord Elrond and Lord Aragorn were as close as that," Elanor said slowly; she had seen the Elf speak with courtesy and kindness to the man before him, but they did not behave as father and son.

Yet another thing I missed while reading the Silmarillion...

Bilbo sighed a little here, gently pressing the pages before him into piles. "Alas, for Estel of old endured many hardships; Lord Elrond would not be parted with his daughter save to the King of Gondor and Arnor, and not long after he became Aragorn did the Dúnadan depart Imladris. He has scarcely returned here since, and whilst Lord Elrond has welcomed him, they are not the father and son they were in the days of Aragorn's boyhood."

Goodness, no wonder Elrond's had such a rough time—and Aragorn looks so stern and silent!

"That is an interesting tale—thank you for sharing it with me, Bilbo," Elanor said softly, feeling her heart go out to the pair. Elrond must have loved Aragorn deeply; she had not realised that there was so much complexity to the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen.

"The telling of tales—that is all I am fit for these days," the hobbit chuckled. "I should very much like to hear some stories of your own, Lady Elanor."

Elanor smiled slightly. "Perhaps you shall, after the bustle has died down and the Fellowship has departed." Her good humour faded as she again contemplated her dilemmas.

How on earth do I fix things with Sam…

Bilbo turned to her and seemed to read her expression. "What concerns you, my lady?"

She sighed. "Have you noticed that Master Samwise seems set to avoid me, Bilbo?"

"Ah." The hobbit smiled a little and patted her hand in a grandfatherly fashion. "Do not be troubled by that, Lady Elanor. Samwise is slower than most to forget the loss of his master. In time, he shall not be so fierce."

"But it wasn't as if it were my fault," Elanor reminded him, feeling somewhat irked that Sam could blame her.

"I never said it was. But Master Samwise cannot forget that you were brought to Rivendell not long before Frodo passed, and cannot contemplate how Lord Elrond was able to restore your health and not his beloved friend's," the hobbit told her, kindly. His own face showed lingering sadness, and Elanor was profoundly grateful he had not also turned his heart against her.

So that's it. I survived, and Frodo didn't. Wow, I wasn't that sick, was I?

"But I was merely tired. Frodo had been—" Elanor broke off, unable to speak the horrifying words.

Bilbo's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I quite understand, Lady Elanor, and yet when Lord Elrond rushed to your bedside, Samwise merely saw the abandonment of Frodo for the sake of a strange woman. We are simple Shirefolk, not healers or teachers or wise counsellors."

Nodding slowly, Elanor watched as the hobbit began to gather his belongings into his arms. She was glad to know Sam's reasoning, but was no less baffled by the prospect of remedying the situation.

"I am afraid I must depart, however. There are several things I must attend to, foremost amongst these the conduct of several cheeky young hobbits," Bilbo said, rising. He favoured her with a friendly smile. "I am sure you shall do what is best, Lady Elanor."

Elanor bit her lip to prevent tears as she stood to her feet. "Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for telling me about Aragorn; I wish I knew more of him."

"It is my pleasure," Bilbo bowed. With that, he smiled once more and hurried away on his short legs.

"Come in."

Lord Elrond glanced up from his parchment at a sharp rap on his study door. Half a moment later, it opened to reveal the dark-haired form of Erestor, his seneschal.

"You summoned me, lord?" he asked in Sindarin, moving into the room and pausing.

"Yes," Elrond replied, returning his quill to parchment briefly before placing it on its stand. "Would you be so kind as to take this missive to Lord Glorfindel, and summon Lady Elanor for me?" While he spoke, Elrond deftly folded the parchment.

Erestor nodded as his master imprinted his seal upon the letter. "Certainly. Do you have any notion of Lady Elanor's whereabouts?"

"None whatsoever. I have had little opportunity to speak with her these past days, and desire to now."

Erestor received the letter with a small bow. "I shall be swift." Turning, he departed the study.

Elrond rubbed his temples slowly. As much as both he and Gandalf deemed it necessary, the loss of Glorfindel from his household would be blatantly apparent. The golden-haired Noldorin lord was an invaluable advisor and staunch friend, serving Elrond with the same loyalty he had demonstrated towards King Turgon and his daughter, Princess Idril. As such, Elrond found there were many ends which must be secured prior to Glorfindel's departure.

I must ask Erestor about filling Glorfindel's duties... someone shall have to take responsibility for the patrols... perhaps I shall ask the twins, for I believe they shall not be hastening off anytime soon... yes, the twins...

He was startled out of his musings by a gentle knocking.

"Come in," he called once more.

Elanor peeped in cautiously, appearing somewhat bemused by the summons.

"Yes, adar?"

Elrond smiled at her address, which sounded foreign from her tongue. "Come, sit. I merely wished to see you, muin." Elanor relaxed at this, and moved to take a chair near his desk.

Elrond studied his foster-daughter as she sat gracefully, noting the still-slender form and glinting golden curls.

Elanor's arrival those months ago had caused a significant stir within Imladris; rumours had swiftly circulated that a strange noblewoman had arrived from the South, and Elrond had not quenched such speculation. He was, admittedly, still somewhat unsure of Elanor's precise standing within her own world, which appeared to function in an entirely foreign manner to Arda. Nonetheless, the people of Imladris had displayed toward her a certain degree of deference. She spoke intelligently, and was often closeted with either himself, Lord Glorfindel or Prince Legolas. Many believed her to be a noblewoman from the Riddermark, or of Prince Imrahil's household far south in Dol Amroth. Elrond's adoption of her as his foster-daughter had merely confirmed the suspicions of his household. Truly she was now Lady Elanor, and Elrond found her puzzlement about her title rather endearing.

Realising that she was waiting for him to speak, Elrond relaxed in his chair and smiled at her.

"Forgive me for not seeing more of you earlier, iell," he began. "There shall be more time for learning and for speech when the Company has departed, though it grieves me that you lack company in this troubling time."

"I understand, ada," Elanor nodded.

She appears tense; as soon as the Fellowship leaves, I really ought to speak with her more about her knowledge of events. She must be deeply troubled by such dilemmas.

"How have you occupied yourself today?" he asked instead, attempting to keep the conversation light.

She shrugged a little, giving a fairly muted account of her activities.

She is lonely too, and little wonder—her closest companions shall soon depart. She should speak more with Arwen; it would do them both good.

Elrond nodded to himself, pleased with the solution.

"Your sister is also in need of company," he remarked.

"My sister?" Elanor frowned, and Elrond noted the pain which flickered in her eyes at the thought of the one she called Georgia.

"Nay, iell—Arwen."

It took a moment for Elanor to respond to this, and she gave a small laugh. "I'm sorry, ada, I forgot that I had become part of the whole family."

Elrond chuckled. "It is to be expected. The twins also desire your closer acquaintance." The pair had been quite taken with the golden-haired woman, finding her intriguing and witty. Elrond knew that they oft missed the company of their first edain foster-sibling, for Aragorn son of Arathorn had long since ceased to have time for lighthearted games.

"I would love to see more of them," Elanor admitted. Her expression grew brighter as Elrond spoke with her, for which she was glad.

You have an unfortunate habit of collecting mortal foster-children, Elrond Eärendil's son.

The thought pressed upon his tender heart, accentuating the ever-present pain caused by the knowledge that one of his own flesh-and-blood children would be parted from him ere long.

And yet I should not undo what I have done.

Having satisfied himself that she was well, and intending to devote more time to her later, Elrond shuffled forward in his seat. "I wish I could spare longer, melda, but alas! There is much to be done, and I must speak with Mithrandir this afternoon," he said, rising from his chair. Elanor nodded in understanding.

"That's alright. Legolas has promised to spar with me this afternoon anyway."

Elrond smiled. "Good. It is rare for the members of Royal House of Mirkwood to stir abroad, but I am gladdened by your friendship. Lord Aragorn also found companionship amongst the sons of Thranduil."

"Legolas is like the brother I never had," the girl admitted, with a blithe smile.

It is easy to forget how young she is, for at first glance she might be of the Vanyar.

"That is well." Elrond drew his new daughter into a warm embrace, her head scarcely reaching his shoulder. "Enjoy your afternoon, muin."

Moving to the door, Elanor smiled softly over her shoulder. "And you, adar."

21st December 3018 (Third Age)

It took Elanor until the following day to muster up enough courage to approach Arwen Undómiel, Lady of Rivendell. She swiftly realised the wisdom in Elrond's suggestion that she spend more time with Arwen, for the Elf woman appeared as unoccupied as herself. However, actually approaching the most beautiful Elf in Middle Earth was an entirely different matter.

She had eaten lunch on the terrace with Legolas; Elrond's other statement about the royalty of Mirkwood had stirred her interest, and she decided to quiz her friend on his homeland. As it turned out, the Mirkwood Elves were mostly Sindar or Silvan, unlike the Noldorin and Vanyarin members of Elrond's household. Mirkwood possessed closer ties with Lothlórien than with Imladris, as Lord Celeborn and King Thranduil were both of Sindarin descent and hailed from the ancient kingdom of Doriath. Elanor had been initially overwhelmed by the complexity of the Elvish factions, but believed she was beginning to grasp the political alliances. Whilst Thranduil was not openly hostile, he had no great love for the Noldor, and only his esteem for Aragorn and Celeborn had persuaded him to send his younger son as an emissary to Rivendell.

Despite the depth of the conversation, Elanor greatly enjoyed the company of the Prince. At times she half-wondered how the son of an Elven king had come to be her friend, but decided not to question it overmuch. She had precious little time to enjoy Legolas' presence.

When the Elf had reluctantly departed, Elanor managed to convince herself that she would take Lord Elrond's advice and locate Lady Arwen. She returned to her rooms first, however, to dress in a becoming jasmine-coloured gown and check her face and hair. Feeling as if she would always appear woefully inadequate next to the Evenstar's beauty, Elanor set out before she could change her mind.

She had a vague understanding of the location of Elrond's family's rooms, and angled herself in that direction. After wandering the less-familiar corridors hopelessly for a quarter of an hour, she was relieved to encounter Erestor.

"Gi suilon, Elanor. Man i theled i oduleg hí?"

Elanor hesitated a little, hoping she had understood his words correctly.

"I am looking for Lady Arwen," she said, unable to contemplate the Sindarin equivalent fast enough.

"Boe gin eliad?"

"Ma, le athae," Elanor smiled, breathing a sigh of relief.

Erestor merely gave a slight bow, before falling into step beside her and indicating the direction they should go.

"Your Sindarin improves," he remarked, with a half-smile.

Elanor laughed in her turn. "Glorfindel is an excellent teacher."

"His Quenya is faultless also, and he knows more of that tongue than any save Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel."

"I shall keep that in mind if I decide to learn another language," Elanor said, feeling somewhat overburdened at the prospect of attempting to absorb more strange tongues. Sindarin was challenging enough.

Erestor merely smiled. It did not take long for them to reach one of the upper corridors, and he paused before a door.

"Here is Lady Arwen's sitting room, where she is to be found most often these days."

"Gi hannon," Elanor nodded, exceedingly grateful.

"I 'ell nîn." With that, Erestor departed.

Elanor stood for half a minute outside Arwen's rooms, wondering how one approached the daughter of an Elven lord. Somehow, Arwen seemed more lofty and regal than any of the other Elves, despite the fact that Glorfindel was friends with a king and Legolas was a Prince in his own right.

Eventually, she settled on the obvious solution—knocking.

"Come in."

Taking a deep breath, Elanor opened the door.

Arwen's chambers were quite as beautiful as the elleth herself. Lying at the very top of Imladris, the ceiling was vaulted and contained many skylights, through which filtered the cool light of the winter's day. Every article within the sitting room bespoke the Evenstar's elegance and beauty.

Elanor swallowed hard.

"Lady Arwen," she managed, bowing her head respectfully.

"I believe that I am to call you nethig," came the light reply. Arwen's voice was rich and smooth, with the same warm tone as her father's.

Elanor glanced up, taking stock of the Elf before her. Arwen was seated upon a lounge, a book in hand an a smile of soft amusement upon her face.

Nethig… nethig… does that mean…

"Little sister," Arwen supplied, placing her book down and rising.

Oh gee she's gorgeous.

"Thankyou, my lady," Elanor stammered, as Arwen drew near and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. She looked intently into her face, but Elanor's eyes fell to the floor.

"Elanor."

Her green eyes struggled to meet the grey ones.

"We are kin," the Elf-woman said simply, "and I am glad to see you."

…well…

"Thankyou," came Elanor's soft response.

"Will you sit with me?" Arwen asked, removing one hand and gesturing to the lounge. Elanor nodded mutely and allowed herself to be led to a seat. If she had believed Indilwen to be graceful, Arwen far surpassed the word. Every movement was like watching a dance. A smile played ever at the Elf's, and her grey eyes were not as stern as Elanor had previously imagined.

The last time you saw her, in Elrond's study, she'd just been talking with her father about becoming mortal. How do you think you'd behave if you were trying to convince your dad to let you give up your immortality for a grizzled guy of eighty-seven?

Realising that Arwen was studying her, Elanor flushed slightly pink and toyed nervously with a golden curl. She had ceased to disregard Legolas' theory of her hair growth several days ago, for now it fell to just below her shoulder blades, fully a foot longer than when she had arrived.

"Ada mentioned you might come to see me," Arwen said, settling herself comfortably on the couch with an inordinate amount of elegance.

Elanor swallowed again. "Yes, he did suggest I should seek your company."

"I'm glad you have come, for the days are long and I have little to occupy me at present."

"I am much the same."

Silence fell for a moment before Arwen spoke again: "I generally walk in the garden in the morning, if you should care to join me tomorrow."

Pause.

"I would like that," Elanor admitted truthfully.

The conversation continued for another quarter of an hour. Whilst Elanor continued to feel distinctly uncomfortable, she discovered Arwen was an engaging and friendly companion. She made no comment at her foster-sister's lack of speech, but continued with gentle kindness and tact.

At last, Elanor professed that she should allow Arwen to continue her reading and rose to go. The latter made no protest, standing as well. She escorted Elanor to the door, before moving so they stood face-to-face.

Elanor shifted uncomfortably, though this time she was able to match Arwen stare-for-stare.

She certainly is beautiful… her skin is so smooth, and her eyes have perfect lashes…

And she has the manner of her father.

It was true, and Elanor could not deny it. She would enjoy becoming closer acquainted with anyone who resembled Lord Elrond, in thought and deed.

"I enjoyed speaking with you," she said, hoping to ease her own awkwardness and present an olive branch of friendship to her new sister.

Arwen laughed merrily. "As did I. We shall speak again on the morrow."

"That—sounds good," Elanor finished lamely, feeling suddenly tired and struggling to keep up the manner of the Elves. She had worked long and hard to adapt her speech to Middle Earth, rephrasing her sentences until they flowed smoothly. Now, however, her pleasantries had run dry.

Arwen squeezed her arm gently and smiled. "Lord Glorfindel was correct about you, nethig."

Elanor's eyes widened in alarm. "What did he say?" she asked, feeling suddenly concerned about the tales her friend might have relayed. Glorfindel was kind, but he possessed a great sense of mischief which had always amused her-until now.

Arwen merely twinkled at her. "That you make a fine edhel."

On Sindarin conversations: I am afraid that at present I don't have the exact translations for Erestor and Elanor's conversation written down. However, it is not difficult to find if you google the phrases.

I have used more Sindarin words in this chapter; "iell" (daughter), "nethig" (sister), "ada" (father), etc. These are also fairly easy to locate, and I am planning in later chapters to incorporate a translated list of the words/phrases I use for you all so you don't have to go hunting. Not tonight, however, for I have managed to get my second chapter up in one day. :D

Elanor is beginning to take on a life of her own, so if you have suggestions I can certainly bring them to her. I cannot guarantee them, however, for she is strong-willed and has settled into Elrond's household, even if she misses her own.

I wanted to begin addressing Elanor and Sam's estrangement, and also incorporate more of Arwen. It felt odd to have so much Elanor-Elrond involvement and yet not have her friendly with Arwen and the Twins. Expect more Elladan-Elrohir-Arwen in the fic as it progresses!

Also, SPOILER, but, the real Fellowship adventures begin in Chapter 15, the next instalment. It may take a day or two to construct (I have an essay to compose tomorrow morning) but after that I shall devote myself to you over the weekend. :3

Feel free to leave reviews/follow/favourite! ^_^

Finwe x