AN: May 2021 – I have edited all preceding chapters. The story so far should now be a bit neater. A few important parts have changed slightly, so I recommend rereading to prevent confusion. Any plot holes, spelling mistakes, blatant incorrectness etc, let me know.
Lady of Wolves/Chapter 23
Arya yawned. When Galadriel had said that the Fellowship would set out early, she had thought that they would at least get breakfast first.
Nymeria whined lowly and stuck her head back under a paw. The direwolf was understandably displeased with the early hour at which they had been woken, and was now moping on the wooden pier.
Well, Arya had been not been entirely wrong. Galadriel was supervising some elves who were stocking up the little silver boats with the elven bread Lembas, water, and various other provisions. Technically, that counted as providing breakfast.
Still, eating the first meal of the day while on the move, although a more efficient use of their time, was slightly inconvenient.
"I'm hungry," Pippin grumbled behind her, in unknown agreement.
Sighing, Arya turned away from watching the dawn light dancing on the river Alduin's surface. "I'm sure you'll be able to eat as soon as we're in the boats. It shouldn't take too long."
The other Hobbits were all huddled around Aragorn, who appeared to be explaining something to them, Morry lying down beside him. Legolas was examining one of the little silver boats, running his hand admiringly over the carved woodwork.
Slightly away from the pier, on dry land, Gimli and Boromir were leaning against one of the mallorn trees, eyes closed and arms folded. Every now and then, Gimli let out a rumbling snore. Boromir just mumbled something in response and went back to catching up on lost sleep.
Various elves were milling about, some preparing the boats, others waiting on the edge of the forest, watching the Fellowship's coming departure with keen eyes. Beyond them, if Arya looked up, she could just make out glints of the buildings of Lorien, half-hidden high in the branches.
Haldir himself was there with them, keeping watch with a keen eye, one hand always on his bow.
"I do believe that is everything." Galadriel smiled. The elves gave the boats one last check and bowed, heading back to join the onlookers in the shadows of the trees. "Members of the Fellowship, please come forward."
The Hobbits rushed over quickly, eager to please. Aragorn and Legolas came more sedately, though the latter cast a longing look at the boat he had been inspecting. With a groan, Boromir stretched and nudged Gimli awake. Both stumbled into line blearily.
Arya herself trudged over reluctantly. Galadriel was far too awake for such an early hour. Still, at least they would have more time to travel, and that meant less chances for anything to go wrong.
Nymeria stayed right where she was, rolling over onto her side with a low purr. Morry trotted over to her and flopped down beside her.
Once the Fellowship, sans direwolf and Warg, were all lined up, Galadriel looked at them and beamed.
"I am glad that we have been able to provide you with hospitality and sanctuary for at least part of your journey." Galadriel beckoned to her attendants. "Please accept these gifts. May they serve you well on your perilous journey." Prompted by the simple gesture from the elven lady, some young elves came forward, all bearing various items aloft.
Boromir, Merry and Pippin all received ornate belts, beautiful works of elven craft. Frodo gained an intricate crystal phial, in which a soft white light shimmered.
"That is the light of the star Earendil," Galadriel murmured softly as she gave the phial. "Let it guide you when the hour seems darkest."
When Sam's turn came, he received a length of elven rope and a simple grey box. Sam opened the box, and his eyes grew wide. "A seed from a mallorn tree?"
Galdriel laughed, high and fluting. "I see you are an astute gardener. Guard this treasure well."
Arya peered into the box. There was a single shining seed there, as silver as Alduin's surface, nestled in a bed of rich earth.
Well. Personally, Arya thought this a highly impractical gift. Rare tree or not, there was only a small number of ways in which this would help defeat Sauron. But in the end, the gift did make Sam happy, as his broad grin clearly showed. In any case, increasing the Hobbit's motivation to succeed in the mission was surely a benefit. Arya sighed, and let it go.
"I will keep it safe and well," Sam promised devotedly.
"I know you will," Galadriel returned kindly. She then turned to Legolas.
Legolas stepped forward, head held high, although he seemed slightly nervous. "Lady Galadriel."
Galadriel smiled, somewhat sharp. "I gift you a bow of the Galadhrim, and this quiver, from which a never-ending supply of arrows shall grow. All I ask is that you pour some water into the quiver now and then, to keep the wood alive and well." She stepped closer. "In return, you will also use these gifts to help you succeed in this journey. I shall be very displeased if I have to break my granddaughter's heart by informing her of your unfortunate demise."
Legolas blushed. "I swear that I shall not bring Arwen grief. It is my greatest wish and intention to return to her."
"Very good, Legolas," Galadriel remarked pointedly. "See to it that you do."
The elf mumbled something unintelligible, face red as he accepted the gifts.
Aragorn patted Legolas' shoulder goodnaturedly. "I'll make sure he keeps that oath, my lady. Arwen would be greatly displeased with me if I let anything happen to him."
Galadriel looked pleased at his words.
Aragorn himself received a new sheath for his sword and a brilliant green gem hung on a silver chain.
"The Elessar? The Elfstone?" he marvelled, carefully tracing one of the jewel's edges.
"Indeed. Wear it, and remember that you will always be part of our family. Let this gift aid you in being recognised as the true king of Gondor." Galadriel looped the necklace around Aragorn's neck, and he bowed in acceptance.
"Thank you, my lady," he said reverently.
Arya shuffled nervously as Galadriel came to her. Apparently it was her turn.
"I don't need a gift," she blurted out quickly. "The knowledge I received from you is enough." The circumstances of Jon's birth were enough to put Arya off from sticking her head in any more magic fountains.
Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "I do not have a gift for you. I would have given you the crown we crafted to symbolise your title and heritage, but it went missing just this morning. Very unfortunately."
"Oh no," Arya deadpanned. "What a pity." The weight of the crown almost seemed to burn through the fabric of her bag. She smiled widely, innocently. Was it her fault that no one was guarding the room? Honestly, these elves.
With a light huff of amusement, Galadriel merely shook her head and moved on to Gimli.
The dwarf also eyed the elven lady nervously.
Looking down at him, Galadriel waved a hand expressively. "Dwarves do not often come to Lorien. I have been at a loss for what to gift you. Ask then for what you wish, and if the request is reasonable, I shall grant it."
Gimli went red. "I do not need anything of elven make, fair lady. All I ask is for three golden hairs from your head, by which I may remember your hospitality and beauty." He mumbled something into his beard that sounded suspiciously like 'please'.
Arya threw him an incredulous glance. Galadriel had offered anything within reason, and Gimli asked for three hairs? What a perfectly good waste of a request. Arya was even more surprised when Galadriel humoured him and plucked out three golden strands, handing them over with a benevolent smile.
"Won't Nymeria receive anything?" Arya asked grouchily, seeing Gimli carefully tuck the hair away. "And Morry?"
Galadriel beckoned. "Haldir?"
The named elf stepped forward. "The direwolf and Warg may, from this day to their last, run within the forests of Lorien as they please. No harm will come to them from us. However, should they attack one of our people, we will defend ourselves."
Nymeria and Morry growled lowly in tandem. Nymeria very pointedly shuffled in place until only her back was facing Haldir. Morry whined, nuzzled Nymeria and yawned.
"Thank you, Haldir," Aragorn replied, barely hiding a smile. "I'm sure our companions are pleased with that."
Arya snorted.
By now, more than half of the sun had risen above the horizon.
"Farewell to you, the Fellowship of the Ring," Galadriel said, voice now loud and regal. "You carry the hopes of us all."
"We will not disappoint you," Frodo promised, eyes bright. He had placed the crystal phial on its chain around his neck. The light twinkled gently, half-hidden in his clothes.
They all made their farewells and turned to the boats, the elves looking on.
Aragorn took a boat with Morry and Frodo. Gimli went with Merry and Pippin, Legolas invited Sam to his boat, and Arya found herself sharing with Boromir.
Nymeria got up and shook herself. She was too big to fit into the boats, but was quick enough and had enough stamina to be able to run at their pace in the woods alongside.
In almost no time at all, they set off.
Arya sat near the prow, watching as Aragorn's boat took the lead, followed by Legolas and Gimli together, with her boat coming last. She offered to help Boromir either row or stir the boat, but he declined rather more politely than usual.
As soon as they had turned a bend and the pier with the elves disappeared from view, the Hobbits immediately tore into the packs, exclaiming with delight once they had found the food.
"Finally!" Pippin exclaimed, holding up a piece of Lembas. "I've been starving for hours!"
"We have only been awake for a short time," Gimli stated grumpily, carefully taking the piece that Merry offered in one hand while the other rested on the rudder.
"You forget, my dear dwarf, that our Hobbits can sense hunger even while asleep," Legolas pointed out wisely. "I would not doubt them on matters of food."
"Hear, hear," Sam agreed, the several pieces of Lembas stuffed in his mouth muffling his words. Frodo was also digging in.
Arya copied the Hobbits, and rooted around in the bags stacked neatly beside her until she found the provisions. She handed some dried meat and bread to Boromir, who wolfed it down in a manner not entirely unlike Nymeria.
Boat-sharing companionship duties fulfilled, Arya ate her own share, then lay back in the boat. There was just enough space for her to not be worried about Boromir accidentally kicking her in the head.
Their pace was quick. The river Alduin flowed fast and the light little boats were displaced easily by the current. Every so often, one of the Hobbits would exclaim upon spotting flashes of Nymeria's grey fur within the trees on the near bank. Morry added little howls of his own to their excited voices.
The sun rose higher in the sky. The shadows faded little by little, until there was no shade for them in the middle of the river.
Lulled by the midday heat and the cheerful rippling of the waves around the boat, Arya began to doze. High in the air, just before she closed her eyes, she saw a hawk circling. Lazily, she cast out her mind.
~o0o~
The river sparkles sapphire below her, waves glinting like liquid light, only four little dark specks hiding within its brilliance. The emerald canopy of the forest stretches out like a dappled quilt over the bones of the world.
On a day such as this, there is almost no wind. She flaps her wings harder, lets out a piercing cry. Angling against the sun, she dives lower, then lower still, until she passes under the branches of the trees and skims merely a few paces above the river's surface.
She lands on the prow of the last boat. The beings all turn to look at her and the hatchlings are delighted, giving out excited little calls. She gives a screech of greeting in return, then turns to preen her feathers.
Her human body is merely lying there, seemingly asleep.
The dark-haired man in her boat looks down at her body, appears worried. He nudges her quickly, is surprised to have no response. He calls out, panicked, to the others.
She stops preening, gives an indignant squawk.
The other dark-haired man, the one in the leading vessel whose eyes are blue-grey, replies. She hears her name in the words, sees him point to her as she perches there.
With a little screech, she hops over to the dark-haired man in her boat, nips his hand gently with her beak.
He gives a little hiss of pain, flaps a hand at her to shoo.
Indignant, she lifts into the air and flies over to the elf's vessel, landing on the elf's arm, being careful about her talons. The elf seems surprised, but keeps his arm motionless. With another piercing cry, she demands food.
The hatchling there holds out a small piece of dried meat. Swallowing it quickly, she flies away again, gives a screeching cry of farewell and rises high into the air.
High above everything, she can see the world for leagues around. In the west, the ridges of the mountains rise like giants into the sky. To the south-east, a dark shimmer hovers above the horizon, vague flickers of red flashing within.
Even as a hawk, she knows that evil lies there.
The river twinkles below. Swooping slightly lower, she follows it forward, flying fast. Soon enough, the little boats are left behind. A direwolf's howl echoes lowly behind her.
Through the trees, she can see deer, hares, other animals. Nothing unnatural, no traps, no challenges just yet. She flies on.
The river continues at its sedate pace. For perhaps an hour she flies above the water, scouting the route they are to take, until she sees the river join to another, smaller, channel of water.
The hawk is hungry now, energy low.
Giving in to instinct, she circles low, waits patiently, and strikes. The mouse is dead before it realises she is there.
She feeds, then retraces the path of her flight. Perhaps another hour, less, and she comes to the boats upon the river again. Although now, they have been drawn up to the bank, the beings and hatchlings sitting under the shade of the trees and eating, a direwolf and Warg lying beside.
Her body has been brought onto land, and is lying in the shade. With barely a thought, she slips out of the hawk and returns to herself.
~o0o~
Her body ached. Arya mumbled a soft curse under her breath as she hoisted herself up, bones creaking.
The next time she did that, she would put at least a blanket underneath herself first. Preferably a dozen.
Sam was the first to notice that she was awake.
"Miss Arya!" He rushed to her side. "Are you well?"
"My back hurts," Arya answered grouchily. "I thank whoever brought me out of the sun."
"You're welcome," Boromir huffed. "However, your gratitude is a meagre substitute for an apology. You bit me."
"It didn't hurt!" she defended herself, taking the water that Sam offered with a nod. "I didn't even draw blood. I was as gentle as I could be!"
"You still bit me,"Boromir groused, looking gloomily at his food. He looked even more like Eddard Stark in that moment, that same pensive, frowning look.
Arya's heart twisted a bit. "I'm sorry, then. I'll not do it again. Next time I'll bite Aragorn."
Boromir did not laugh, but his mouth curved slightly. "I look forward to it."
Legolas spoke up next. "That is a fascinating gift, Arya. How does it work? Can it be done at will?"
She shrugged. "As long as my will is stronger than that of the being or creature which I warg into, or skinchange with, then yes. If not, then I risk my own self being destroyed by the other, original one. Animals are easier, but I should be able to do it with anyone if my control is good enough."
Above them, the hawk let out a high-pitched screech, and flew away.
Gimli let out a low whistle of approval. "Aye, such a gift may come in handy, I should think."
"Did you see anything?" Merry wanted to know. Pippin and Frodo were just watching her with fascination.
"There are no obstacles in the river's path, all the way up to the confluence with another river," Arya explained. "Nothing unnatural, either, only normal animals." She shivered. "Even from a distance, though, I could sense the evil within Mordor. We are far enough yet that no harm should come to us easily, but even so, I shall continue to scout the path ahead where possible."
"That is a good thing," Aragorn observed. "It would be far too easy to be taken by surprise. A warning in advance could very well save our lives."
Boromir hummed in thought. "This is a curious gift, indeed. How far does it go? Do you completely take over another creature's body, or are some of their instincts retained? What happens to the original self?"
Arya looked at him assessingly. "Astute questions. I don't know the answers to all of them. Control over the body and thoughts to a certain degree are mine, although some instincts and urges may be integral to the creature and so remain. I can only assume the original self becomes asleep, in a sense, when my will takes precedence."
"What would happen if you were to… to warg, with one of us? We may have more self-awareness than a hawk or another animal." There was no denying the light of curiosity and fascination gleaming in Boromir's eyes.
"It would be skinchanging," Arya corrected thoughtfully. "Warging only happens with wolves or dogs, or other such canine species. Skinchanging is the term for all the others." She judged him, taking in the rapt attention with which he listened. "I can try to skinchange with you, if you allow it. I shall attempt to remain a neutral presence, but you can let me know what happens and what it feels like."
Boromir swallowed heavily, but nodded. "I should like to keep my dignity intact, if you please."
Aragorn broke in quickly. "Arya, are you sure this is wise? What if the worst happens, and your own self is destroyed?"
"Then that's too bad." She shuffled up onto her haunches, fixed Boromir with a look. "Besides, when else will I get such a willing victim? I'm curious now, too."
Reluctantly, Aragorn accepted this. The others, including him, shuffled into a seated circle around the two of them, watching expectantly.
Arya looked into Boromir's grey eyes, and slipped into his mind.
~o0o~
The world turns, shifts.
She sees her body slump to the side, where Aragorn is waiting to catch her. The colours of day seem faded, muted. Human eyes are not as strong as hawk or elf ones.
Her knee hurts where she sits, an old ache from an injury sustained in an encounter with orcs, from a long time ago.
Carefully not taking too much control, she searches inwards, gently brushing her will against the original self.
There are thoughts there, swirling, far stronger a presence than the mind of a wolf or hawk. There is an equal sense of control to that of Nymeria, that same awareness of self. She touches the presence, prods it thoughtfully, but gently.
Quick thoughts skitter past, old memories, mixed with current feelings and emotions and hopes and longings.
Testing her control, she rises to her feet. The original self pushes at her half-heartedly, puts up a token resistance, but nevertheless she walks in a circle around those who are seated.
The direwolf huffs at her, and an age-old instinct pushes her to growl back moodily. She stomps back to her place and sits again.
She has seen enough. She is about to withdraw, casting a final look around the Fellowship, but then something dark skitters across the original self when her eyes fall on Frodo.
Frowning, she nudges at the residue left by the dark thing. The thoughts are sticky, slimy where they have been touched. She follows the trail, hackles rising with each step closer, until she can see an ugly, writhing thing hidden deep within the original self's presence.
She snarls. This thing is black in colour, radiating evil. Without a thought, she attacks it.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she can feel her body twisting, screaming, the others getting up in panic, but she ignores it. Her fight with the ugly thing, which is almost like a small black ball of wriggling shadows, takes precedence. Drawing her claws and teeth, she scrapes at it, scratches, bites.
The thing resists. It has lodged well into the original self, has cast it roots deep, shrieks promises of destruction and death.
She, however, is stronger.
With a final flash of teeth, she digs her claws in tight and tears.
The thing is slowly ripped free from the original self, ugly tentacles flailing around in vain. With a howl of victory, she flings herself at it, rips it to insignificant shreds and casts the destroyed remnants into nothingness.
Almost immediately, the original self, now free of the thing's taint, slams into her. She is thrown out, tumbling over herself as the other's will forces her away.
~o0o~
With a pained gasp, Arya came back to herself. Her head was pounding, black spots appearing in her vision, breath coming short and laboured.
Somewhere, deep inside, part of her burned.
Nymeria came bounding over to her quickly, growling worriedly.
Arya looked into her direwolf's golden eyes, and slowly, as she grasped their bond tightly, the burning inside her eased, gentling. The blinding headache, however, remained.
Aragorn was holding her tightly, asking questions helplessly. "Arya, are you alright? Speak to me! What happened?"
"Boromir?" she managed to croak out. The light of the sun was agony to her eyes.
"Legolas and Sam are looking to him," Aragorn informed her curtly, face drawn and worried. "You both seemed fine, but after you – he – both of you sat down, something changed. There was screaming, and his body kept convulsing, and he seemed to be in a lot of pain. And now, you're back in your own body, but Boromir has lost consciousness. What did you do?"
"There was something inside him," Arya managed, hoisting herself up on weak arms. "A dark thing, presence, I don't know. Whatever it was, it was unnatural, tainted. I attacked and destroyed it. It is gone now, but I don't know what the effect on Boromir will be."
Just then, Merry and Pippin let out a shout. "Boromir's awake!"
Arya struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on Aragorn, and hobbled over.
True to the Hobbit's word, Boromir had opened his eyes, and was looking around frantically. He looked paler than normal, but not as if he were in pain.
"What happened?" Boromir asked weakly. He rubbed at his forehead, closed his eyes for a moment. "Arya, you did something. What was it?"
"How do you feel?" Sam checked gently, before Arya could answer. He held a flask of water to Boromir. "Drink this, it might help."
Boromir drank quickly, then pushed the flask away impatiently. "I don't feel too different. A terrible headache, though." He grimaced, looked around the Fellowship. "Old bones, too. I thought we had agreed that I would keep my dignity, Arya." His eyes landed on Frodo, and suddenly he went still.
Seeing an opening, slowly and haltingly, Arya explained what she had experienced.
The Fellowship listened attentively, all but Boromir, whose eyes were fixed strongly on Frodo, only appearing to listen with one ear.
"I know what has happened," Boromir interrupted suddenly. He pushed himself to his feet, stumbled across to Frodo, eyes bright and alive. Only Legolas catching his elbow stopped him from falling back to the ground, but still he continued. He crouched down in front of the Hobbit.
Frodo shuffled a bit back, disconcerted.
Arya hissed at Boromir in warning, but he ignored her, passing a hand just above Frodo's chest.
"I don't feel it," Boromir marvelled, wonderingly. "Every time I looked at you, Frodo, I was seized with the desire to possess the Ring, to take it from you by any means. But now..." He laughed, stood suddenly, opened his arms and turned to face the sky. "I don't feel that desire, that longing for the Ring. Not anymore!"
The Fellowship only watched him in stunned silence.
Boromir stumbled back over to Arya, face alive with joy. "Arya Stark, I am in your debt. I had never thought I would be free of the Ring. I owe you."
She looked at him, blinked, and said, "What."
Nymeria whined, and nudged Arya's side.
"That is quite enough, I think," Aragorn said, looking a bit unnerved himself. "It is past time we returned to the boats. Boromir, you shall share with me so that I can be assured that you are on your way to recovery. Legolas, take Arya and Frodo. Gimli, you're with Sam. Merry and Pippin, I am trusting you to not capsize your own boat."
"We would never!" The two protested at once, grinning cheekily.
Aragorn hummed lowly, raising an eyebrow. "Morry will be there to keep an eye on you."
Merry and Pippin grumbled goodnaturedly, but began packing.
Soon enough, they were on their way again, Nymeria bounding on the riverbank alongside.
Arya leant against the side of the little boat. She could see Boromir smiling brightly on his seat, such a strange contrast to his sullen mood on the journey prior. Every so often, Boromir turned to face Frodo and beamed at him. The Hobbit could only return a half-panicked, unnaturally wide smile. Boromir did not appear to pick up the force behind the expression, wrapped up in his joy as he was.
Her head still hurt slightly. Shifting a bit against the wood, Arya turned her face to the side and fell asleep.