Chapter 5: Hail to the Warrior
Toven was in the courtyard of Rivendell when the first horses arrived.
He'd been sitting on one of the balconies, staring at the green and orange trees on the other side of the valley. In the few days he'd been in Rivendell, he'd learned that there wasn't much to do. He'd taken his meals with the hobbits and Aragorn, but he'd spent a lot of time watching the entrance of the valley, waiting for Quinn to rejoin them.
The Nazgûl had pursued Arwen to the Bruinen, just outside of Rivendell, where a flood had swept them away. But there had been no sign of Quinn, and Toven wasn't sure what had delayed her.
He straightened when he saw movement on the valley path, but the newcomers were mounted, and he could tell even from a distance that neither was Quinn. He watched the pair of riders draw closer, then stood with a grin.
He was waiting in the courtyard by the entrance by the time the two dwarves rode in on their ponies. He raised a hand in greeting. "Shamukh!"
The red-haired dwarf in front squinted at him. "Toven! Is that you, lad?"
"None other."
With a booming laugh, Gimli dismounted his pony and enveloped him in a crushing embrace. "Why, look at you! You've grown into a young man!"
"Indeed, I have." Toven suppressed a wince. Gimli had certainly inherited his father's strength.
Glóin dismounted from his own pony and gave Toven a slap on the back that, according to Quinn, could "break the sound barrier." "Good to see you, lad."
"I did not expect to see either of you here," Toven said once Gimli released him.
"Well, I'm certainly not eager to be back," Glóin muttered.
"We're here on business, laddie," Gimli said. "Erebor received ill news a while back."
Toven frowned. "What about?"
"We'll talk once I've had something to wet my tongue." Glóin slung his cloak over his arm. "It's been a long ride here. The High Pass, if you can believe it, has become even less welcoming to travelers. I'd rather another goblin-cave than those whistling winds."
Gimli chuckled and took his pony by the reins. "How about a drink, then? You're old enough now, aye?"
"I am." Toven rolled his eyes. "I'll join you in a little. I'm waiting for Quinn. You haven't seen her, have you?"
"Not at all," Gimli said.
"And she's hard to miss," Glóin added.
"She'll turn up sooner or later," Gimli said. "With a tale to tell, like as not."
Toven half-smiled. Normally he would have shared their lack of concern, but the way she'd talked about the wraiths lingered in the back of his mind. If she feared them, that meant there was the chance they could do her real harm. He thought back to the Morgul blade, tucked away in the corner of his room, and wished she'd told him what she planned on doing with it.
"Thorin and Bilbo are here," he said. "I'm sure they'll be glad to see you."
"Aye, just the people we wanted to see," Glóin said. He scratched his chin and began leading his pony out of the courtyard. Gimli nodded goodbye and followed his father.
Toven went to sit on the stone rim just outside the entrance to the courtyard. He'd been through he High Pass only once in his life, and he'd been too young to remember any of it. But Quinn had told him how they'd been attacked by bandits on the road, how he'd come close to being hurt. It was one of the only times he'd seen something of a shadow pass over her face.
Years later, they'd gone hunting orcs together—a "mother-son bonding field trip," she'd called it. When a group of orcs ambushed them, she'd taken the worst of it, and with an orcish axe partially embedded in her side, had fretted over the cut on his arm. It seemed to him that there would always be a part of her that saw him as that vulnerable child on the mountainside—yet she still saw no reason for him to have any concern for her in return.
An hour later, another rider appeared on the path, this one on a dark brown horse. Toven watched him as he drew closer. His clothing was fine, though dusty from travel, and his bracers bore the White Tree of Gondor.
The man slowed his horse as he reached the gate. He looked down at Toven. "You are no elf."
No shit. He cleared his throat. "I am a Ranger. My name is Toven."
The man considered him for another moment, then dismounted. "Well met. I am Boromir of Gondor."
Toven stood and stepped forward to shake the man's hand. "What brings you to Rivendell, Master Boromir?"
"Seeking counsel. And you?"
"A friend of mine was injured, and he was brought here to recover. And I am waiting for…" He paused as a glint of metal caught his eye. "Ah, here she comes."
Quinn's armor was easy to recognize, even from a distance. The gray metal glinted purple in the sunlight, something he'd never seen in any other set of armor. Compared to the dark green of his clothing, it wasn't ideal for stealth, but she'd never gotten the hang of that anyway.
Boromir was watching her as well. "I've heard tales from the Rangers of Ithilien," he said, "of a Wraith Knight, a dead warrior in strange-colored armor who walks among the living."
"That is certainly one way to describe her," Toven said.
As Quinn drew closer, he realized she was soaking wet, though he was relieved to see she looked unharmed otherwise. She stopped running once she reached the gate, and droplets of water splattered onto the stone.
"Hey." She grinned at Toven. "You're okay."
"And you look like you swam here."
"I did, kinda." She pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face. "Arwen one-shotted all the Nazgûl with this crazy river magic, but I wanted to just double check that they were dead or vanquished or whatever, so I followed them down the river so I could, like, confiscate their evil swords or maybe just hold them underwater if they weren't dead yet, but I couldn't find anything and I got stuck in the river a couple times, so eventually I decided to just come back." She turned to Boromir, who was staring at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye. "Hi."
Trying not to laugh, Toven said, "Boromir, this is…my mother, Quinn. Quinn, this is Boromir of Gondor."
"Cool."
Boromir blinked and recovered. "I will take my leave." He grabbed the reins of his horse. He gave Quinn a wary glance, nodded to Toven, and walked into the courtyard.
Quinn watched him leave, then turned back to Toven. "Sorry, were you trying to make friends with him?"
"I was, and now you've ruined any chance of good will between the Rangers of the North and our cousins in Gondor."
"You'll get over it." She squeezed some water out of her hair. "How's Frodo? Did he make it?"
"He's healing. Lord Elrond was able to treat his wound, and he's been out of bed for a few days."
Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh, thank god. I was so worried. And everyone else is alright?"
Toven nodded and took her by the arm. "Let's get you dried off. Lord Elrond's gonna be mad if you get his upholstery wet."
"Oh, he gets mad when I show up dry." They walked into the courtyard. "Speaking of immortal beings who can't stand me, have you seen Gandalf?"
"Dude, next time you're late, I'm taking points off."
Gandalf partially turned to face her, looking unimpressed. "You say this having arrived earlier today."
Quinn pointedly looked around the balcony where they were standing. "Well, there's no Nazgûl attacking here, are there? Whatever. It's over and done with now." She waved a hand, making her loose sleeve flap to the side. She'd needed a change of clothes, so the elves had given her a spare set of robes, which kind of made her look like a wizard NPC.
"As for the reason why I was late," Gandalf said, "I was delayed. Saruman the White has betrayed our cause."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, so you know already."
His eyes narrowed. "Know what?"
"That, uh…Saruman the White has betrayed our cause."
Gandalf fully turned to her. "And how is it that you came by this information?"
Quinn puffed out her cheeks. "Well, I kinda struck a deal with the guy. This was way back, just after that big fight at Dol Guldur. I agreed to help him search for the One Ring so that we would be able to destroy the thing." She held her hands up. "If it makes you any less mad at me, it was Belekur's idea."
"Then that gives us an advantage."
"Wait, what?"
Gandalf turned to the flowering gardens just beneath the balcony, clearly lost in thought. "I have suspected that Saruman desires the Ring of Power for himself. He is mustering a great force to launch an assault on Middle-earth." He turned back to Quinn. "But you say you have his trust."
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I think he might be onto me. I wanted to ask you how to kill a wizard so I could head back there and…" She drew a finger across her neck.
He let out a puff of air that might have been a laugh. "You would not survive a confrontation with Saruman, that I can guarantee."
"I couldn't just, I don't know, pick him up and throw him off the tower? No offense, but he looks kinda old."
"There is no time to deal with Saruman at the moment." Gandalf's expression darkened. "Our focus must be on the Ring. It was nearly taken by the Nazgûl during Frodo's journey here. It must be kept from the enemy's hands for as long as possible."
Quinn rested an elbow on the railing. "Couldn't we just destroy the thing and be done with it?"
"It is not that simple." He shot her a glare. "And I doubt you have thought of a solution that has not already occurred to one of us."
She held up her hands in surrender. "Okay. I got it." Gandalf usually had a fuse when dealing with her that averaged at two minutes, and she knew when to back off. "Well, if you're needing any help, you know where to find me."
She walked away, and Gandalf muttered something that probably wasn't a heartfelt expression of gratitude.
Quinn sighed and prodded the hole in her boot. She'd worn out more pairs than she could count over the years, and she would have to get these fixed soon before the hole widened and her whole sole fell off.
But that was a task for another time. She'd spent about an hour pacing after her conversation with Gandalf, trying to decide what to do next. She knew Saruman had other allies besides her, and Gandalf had said that he was gathering some great force. She didn't know exactly where he'd been hiding all that, but now she was beginning to kick herself for not looking into those gnarly pits outside Isengard.
Regardless of the details, Saruman was probably still spying on her, which meant he knew how to hurt the people she cared about. She had to find a way to deal with the wizard before something bad happened.
With a sigh, Quinn pushed herself up and started walking. She needed to find someone to talk it over with. Thinking alone had never been her strong suit.
But when she spotted a head of curly dark hair sitting on one of the benches outside, all thoughts of Saruman left her head.
"Frodo!" She ran forward and almost lifted him up, but remembered his wound at the last second. "How ya doing, buddy?"
"I'm all right," he said. She sat down, and he gave her a one-armed hug. "I'm glad you made it to Rivendell. I was worried when no one had heard from you."
"Aw, you know you don't have to worry about me." She searched his face—she hadn't missed how stiffly he'd been moving his right side. "How's the shoulder?"
"It…still hurts," he said, his smile fading slightly. "But not as much as before."
"Does it feel cold?"
He looked up at her, eyes widening slightly, and nodded.
Quinn rolled up her sleeve, revealing the white scar on her forearm. "Mine's cold, too. And it hurts, like, every year around the time that I got it."
Frodo reached out and ran his fingers along the scar. "You were cut with a Morgul blade?"
"A long time ago. Obviously, I got better. But it sucked—I literally got kicked out of my body. I'm just glad that didn't happen to you."
"So am I." Frodo lowered his hand. "And thank you for trying to protect us, back there."
Quinn shrugged and looked away. "I mean, you got stabbed, so obviously I didn't do that great of a job."
"Yes, but Sam and Merry and Pippin—they all made it here unharmed. It might not have been that way if we'd been alone."
"I guess." She rested her palms on her knees.
"Hopefully we won't have as much trouble on the way back."
She looked up. "You're going back to the Shire?"
"Yes. I might stay here a little longer, but Sam and I have talked it over. We did what we set out to do—brought the Ring to Rivendell. I'm hoping we can put all of this behind us soon."
"Makes sense." She nodded. "I mean, you've done more than enough already."
They both looked up as two people rounded the corner. Quinn raised a hand in greeting as Bilbo and Thorin came towards them, arm in arm.
"Hey, guys. Surprise family reunion, huh?"
"Yes, we were both happy to see Frodo here," Bilbo said as the two of them sat down on the bench on Frodo's other side. "Though we wish we could have received him under better circumstances."
"How is your shoulder?" Thorin asked.
"Still healing." Frodo reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm feeling all right, I promise." From his slightly exasperated smile, Quinn guessed this wasn't the first time he'd had to answer that question.
She turned her attention to Bilbo. He looked a lot older than the last time she'd seen him—the gray in his hair had been entirely replaced with white, and his movements were slower, less steady. He and Thorin had always been an affectionate couple, but she wondered now if he hadn't been holding onto the dwarf for support.
"Uncle." Frodo pointed to the book tucked under Bilbo's arm. "You should show Quinn what you've written."
"Oh, yes." He handed her the book, which was bound in a nice brown leather. "Take a look. I think you might recognize most of it."
Quinn opened the book to the first page. "There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins." Her mouth fell open, and she turned to him. "You wrote a book?"
"Yes. I've mentioned it to you several times, Quinn."
"Yeah, but I thought you were just, you know," she held up her fingers into a quotation marks, "writing a book."
The three of them stared at her, nonplussed, so she went back to the book.
"Wow, you have really nice handwriting." She turned the book so she could look at a detailed map of the Shire. "What happens if you make a mistake?"
"Well, you simply don't make mistakes."
"And you're fortunate enough to have a steady hand." Thorin patted Bilbo's knee.
Quinn flipped the page. "'The foolish warrior.' Wow, I wonder who that could be." She looked up. "I really want to read all of this, but I haven't read anything that's longer than a page in, like, decades and I think my concentration is shot. But this is really good work. You should be proud of it." She handed the book back to him.
"I'm glad to have your approval." Bilbo accepted the book and placed it in his lap.
"I'm assuming you've already seen Glóin and Gimli." Quinn leaned back on her hands. "There's been a lot of new arrivals today. There was that Boromir guy…and I heard Legolas got here yesterday, so I'm gonna go harass him in a little."
"Aye, Glóin brought dark tidings from Erebor," Thorin said. "An emissary came to the mountain a few months ago, asking for information about a hobbit bearing a ring. Fíli sent the man away, and bade Glóin and Gimli travel here to warn us." He grasped Bilbo's hand protectively.
"Shit." Quinn frowned. It seemed Sauron and Saruman were sending people to every corner of Middle-earth looking for the Ring, and the Nazgûl had already found Frodo three times since he'd left the Shire. It probably wasn't safe for him to go back.
"A council has been called to decide what to do about the Ring, and the increased threats from Mordor," Thorin continued. "This is something that concerns all the peoples of Middle-earth. And none can stand idly by while we decide what to do."
"Yeah." Her hand tightened into a fist. "Yeah, someone's gonna have to answer for this."
Her friends were in danger. Frodo had already been almost killed. Whatever was about to happen, they were getting close to the center of it.
And Quinn was not going to stand by and let anyone else get hurt.
Just turning this into an endnotes section because I have a lot of thoughts about this chapter:
1. I get why Tolkien called this section Many Meetings, Jesus Christ. I feel like everyone's getting at least five introductions/reunions in the next few chapters.
2. I've been kind of playing around with Toven's dialogue; he speaks like a regular man of Middle-earth, but I like to think he's picked up a couple phrases from Quinn. I hope it's not too jarring for you guys.
3. I know Boromir also makes the "You are no elf" comment to Aragorn, my crackhead self gets amused by the thought of Boromir walking around Rivendell perpetually surprised by the sudden racial diversity.
4. I find it kind of funny how for a lot of OCs Gandalf usually acts as a mentor, calls them all "my dear," etc, and with Quinn he's like "If you were on fire and I had a bucket of water I would drink it."
5. Kinda realized Thorin is really just here to be the trophy husband, he has no bearing on the plot and I feel a little bad for not giving him a bigger role in this series…but basically all my other fics revolve around him so it's fine.