Chapter 9
The Room of Fire
Author's Note: It's been a while since I last updated, I know. I had wanted to get this updated in October, but as always I find the Imladris chapters as slow and frustrating as I had when I first wrote this story a long time ago. With that being said I like what I've written a lot better than the tripe I posted in the other story. Brianna and Aragorn's relationship is progressing faster than I originally planned for it, but I feel like it works better for his character anyway. I'm not complaining. If it works then it works. Enjoy!
When Frodo woke Gandalf was with him and had the gall not to make a peep about it. The only reason why Brianna discovered this but if news was due to Sam leading his friend onto the porch she, the wizard, Merry and Pippin rested on speaking of Earth. Merry and Pippin peppered her with questions about what manner of food people ate there. This required some delicacy as things like Hamburgers and Hot dogs were likely things the people of Arda could barely fathom. Gandalf was more sober about the subject and Brianna found herself speaking more about elves, dwarves, Fae and Dragons to him than anything else. Collectively they seemed more fascinated by the idea that Earth held two types of Dragons: good dragons and evil dragons. Their personalities tended to differ.
"I'm friends with the Dragon Queen," Brianna explained shortly before Frodo appeared.
Gandalf leaned forward and the putrid smell of pipe smoke puffed into her. Brianna wrinkled her nose and blinked away the water gathered along her tear ducts at the unpleasant irritant.
"You're friends with the Dragon Queen?" He asked, "What manner of creature is this Queen?"
She shrugged, "A golden scaled pain in the ass?"
"Bilbo didn't describe Smaug with golden scales."
All of them started and swung their heads to look at Frodo who walked through the door that led to the porch they converged on many hours ago for tea. Brianna smiled and felt no small amount of relief in her heart. One survived. It was hard. She'd traveled and fought hard to bring him to this point and Frodo survived. Pippin spring up from his seat.
"Hear comes our noble cousin! Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Ring!" He chirped cheerfully.
"Hush!" Gandalf grunted, "None is that here! Evil does not come into this valley, but it is best not to name it."
"Gandalf has been saying many a cheerful thing these past several days," Pippin said, "He seems to be under the impression that I need correcting. However, I feel like singing right now though I can't think of a song for such an occasion."
Brianna smiled and sang, "Healing, oh, healing The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul The ills of my body were healed by the strips of His back The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul."
Frodo chuckled, "That is certainly a related lyric. Did you compose it?"
She laughed and replied, "Not in the least. I'm a fairly poor poet."
"You sing quite well though your choice of style is far different from the elves in Arda," Gandalf remarked.
"Styles and vocal tone vary depending on the musical genre I choose to sing," she explained.
They squinted at her. Brianna chuckled and waved off the comment. Arda didn't seem to have a particularly diverse set of vocal techniques. Ballads and simple songs seemed to be the choice of expression and very few she'd heard contained more than a simple melody with occasional harmonics. It didn't surprise her. Elves used harps of various sizes for the accompanying instrumentals. Powerful voices with full range of vocal dynamics would not provide the desired effect.
Maybe I'll introduce something to Bilbo. That old Hobbit might get an itch to compose something, she thought slyly and allowed such a smile to crawl across her lips.
"I felt they were appropriate to the circumstance, Mithrandir," she said instead and used the name her people gave the wizard.
Gandalf grunted and worried the mouthpiece of his long lips with his teeth. Frodo steppes forward and grasped Brianna's hands affectionately. He smiled at her and she felt her heart melt. So much about the Hobbit was open and guileless that moments came and went where she wished she knew more people like him.
"I may feel like singing," Frodo said resolutely, "but I feel more like eating as of now."
'That will soon be cured," said Pippin. "You have shown your usual cunning in getting up just in time for a meal."
"More than a meal! A feast!" said Merry. "As soon as Gandalf reported that you were recovered, the preparations began."
He had hardly finished speaking when they were summoned to the hall by the ringing of many bells. Brianna grinned and reached out her hand to Sam who wasted little time in grabbing it.
"I, for one, am glad we can eat real food for a chance!" Brianna chirped. "Travel food is quite bland!"
She pulled them into the hall. Frodo lagged a bit and she slowed her pace to accommodate him. Gandalf trailed a step behind her with Merry and Pippin close behind speaking about food.
"A strange land you hail from, Lady Brianna of Davis," Gandalf remarked.
Frodo interjected here, "Bri says she doesn't come from a land, but a planet! What strange words she says to describe her world, are they not Gandalf?"
Brianna glanced at the wizard and saw his troubled expression. She shrugged and thought it best to remain silent. From the wizard's countenance she divined that he likely knew what Frodo meant.
"Curious," Gandalf said after a moment.
"There are these great horseless carriages that can cover leagues in a few hours! Imagine that! If we'd such a thing during our journey!" Sam breathed.
I shouldn't have told them about that, she thought, I doubt they're at a point in this world to handle that technology.
From the look Gandalf was giving her it was clear he thought the same thing. Brianna did the only thing she could think of in this situation and stuck her tongue out at him. The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side was Gandalf to sit.
Elrond stood and spread his arms at their coming and smiled a smile Brianna had to squint to see. What was it with her people neglecting to smile as much in Arda? Why were they so grim?
"Welcome, honored guests! I invite you to my table!" He said.
With that they were separated. Frodo was placed between Gandalf and a dwarf Brianna barely had time to smile at and place her right hand over her heart to bow reverently to him before she was whisked away. It was between Glorfindel and Arwen she was to sit. She turned to the high elf and smiled.
"I see you're back from wherever you went off to with Aragorn. Where, may I ask, is he?" She asked.
It was a valid question she told herself. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen and yet Glorfindel was with them. He had gone with them. For a moment Brianna felt the stabbing fear of the ranger having died on the road, but immediately brushed it away. The elf looked to be in far too good of humor to be mourning the death of a friend.
"You certainly may, Lady! Aragorn is still out with Elrohir and Elladan. They were unsure of what they found – a beast in the water – and are currently inspecting the corpse," he explained.
Brianna listened as he described the dead creature and how they killed it. Tension left her and she relaxed into her chair. Beside her Brianna noticed Arwen watching her with unmasked interest.
"I suspect you killed a Kelpie," she informed him. "They tend to wait for the unsuspecting to enter the water before attacking."
"That it did!" Glorfindel chuckled, "Estel wasn't pleased with it ambushing him and hacked the thing in half."
She smiled, "So much more pleasant than what I do to them."
Brianna didn't elaborate on that comment and uncovered the dishes before her. Soups, salads, meat pies, and breads and cheeses littered the dishes before her. There wasn't a good place to begin, so she started with the cheese and dried meats. The cheese was different than what she was used to on earth. A certain richness met her tongue and Brianna released a groan of delight without quite realizing she had until it died away. Arwen smiled at her and handed her a bit of the bread and jam.
"I didn't think cheese was such a rare commodity on Earth," she remarked.
"It isn't. This quality is," Brianna said and took a bite of the bread and jam.
Lord Elrond had selected the best from his stores, it seemed. The last few meals she ate lacked the rich quality of taste the food this night did. Arwen leaned towards her. Her eyes were eager, almost hungry, and clutched a fork tightly between fingers.
"Tell me of your journey. I must know! My father has forbade me wandering anywhere of late," she said.
Brianna breathed and launched into the tale beginning with her falling on top of Aragorn and almost becoming a dead elf at the end of his knife. Arwen looked amused by that bit of the tale; especially when she listened to Brianna's opinion about the man's body odor. The tale was long and added to by Glorfindel once she reached his part of their journey.
"I was surprised to see you. Lord Elrond and I felt the disturbances in the land and wind, but we weren't certain as to the cause. Your being here had lightened our hearts considerably," Glorfindel said after Brianna had explained the moment where she almost ambushed him with the flora and landscape.
Do they know? She wondered while she watched the elf explain the significance of what Brianna could do in regards to raw power to Arwen.
The elleth soaked up the information with considerable eagerness that Brianna didn't think was warranted. During the days of her minute magical ability (I.e. none at all) she hadn't given a moment's thought to the skill. Arwen didn't seem to have such an opinion. She leaned forward enraptured by Glorfindel's waxing eloquence with a particular shine in her eyes that made Brianna nearly groan once she interpreted the expression.
It made sense. Arwen was easily the most beautiful elf in the room and, from what she could tell, Glorfindel held a certain carriage that told of an almost kingly origin. She sighed and returned her focus to the food before her while the older elves conversed. It was highly unlikely she would gain any more conversation from them that night.
This is getting awkward. Can I move or would it be considered too rude? She wondered.
Almost as if her wish to move had been granted Lord Elrond rose to his feet. Arwen noted his movement and stood with him. Brianna pushed back her chair and rose as Elrond and Arwen began to walk out of the room. She waited for Frodo and Gandalf to move away from the table and joined them in their journey.
Lord Elrond led them through several doors all variously carved an decorated to fit whatever whim the elf lord had at the time. The adjoining halls were styled in the same way. Some were simple stone work while others had walls bedecked with paintings or tapestries detailing what Brianna could discern from her cursory glances various important events in the history of Arda. As she hadn't traversed that particular hallway before Brianna felt an itch in her fingers to inspect each painting and picture to try and interpret it in some way or another.
They passed one hall that stopped her in her tracks. Gandalf and Frodo ceased walking as well and gazed at the Great paining detailed on the wall's very stone. A broken sword. A human wearing battered silver armor. Standing above him was a great shadowed man clad in the blackest of armor lifting a mace over his head as if about to strike. Carefully painted on the hand holding the mace was the ring Frodo carried.
She swallowed.
Sauron. I wonder how long ago this was.
"Isildur's triumph over the Dark Lord," Gandalf said.
Brianna turned to him and met his kind blue eyes, "Who is Isildur?"
Lord Elrond stepped forward, "A friend I knew over two thousand years ago. We fought at the Black Gate and won by his quick thinking. He cut the ring from the Dark One and broke his power. Once it seemed he was no more the enemy's battalions fled. But Isildur's triumph also became his downfall. He took the ring instead of casting it into the fires from whence it was wrought. In the end it led to his ruin and the eventual ruin of his line."
Gandalf grimly inclined his head, "But that is a subject for another night. Now, we have a cause for celebrating! Our friend Frodo Baggins lives despite perilous odds! And we have a treat for him and his staunch protector."
With that he winked at both of them and allowed Lord Elrond to continue on. Brianna glanced down at Frodo who stared after Gandalf with a troubled look painted across his face. She patted his head.
"Best we wait to ask questions. I suspect the answers are coming," she said softly.
"I almost wish I didn't have to know them," Frodo whispered in reply as they carried on with their trek.
Brianna didn't reply. She knew. Every ounce of her being begged to learn the situation in its entirety, but there was no way to do so. They soon entered another large hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side (Fellowship of the Ring).
"What is this?" Frodo asked.
"This is the Hall of Fire, my lad, where you will hear many songs and tales. You may also find yourself dozing during such renditions. The fires keep the hall warm and wine and cheese and bread are accessible. Now, come with me. I believe there is someone you would like to see," Gandalf said and steered Frodo away from the fire and towards a particular corner.
Elrond walked forward and tapped on the shoulder of a little man whose face was covered and appeared to be asleep. The little man woke with a start and uncovered his face. Promptly Frodo moved swiftly away from her and Gandalf and raced over to the man.
"Bilbo!" Came his delighted cry.
"Hullo, Frodo my lad!" said Bilbo. "So you have got here at last. I hoped you would manage it. Well, well! So all this feasting is in your honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?"
Brianna felt a small smile spread across her face as she stepped toward them a bit. Gandalf grunted and moved away from them.
"Why weren't you there?" cried Frodo. "And why haven't I been allowed to see you before?"
Bilbo waved his hand airily and replied, "Because you were asleep. I have seen a good deal of you. I have sat by your side with Sam each day. But as for the feast, I don't go in for such things much now. And I had something else to do."
Brianna approached them at this point and took a seat beside Bilbo to watch their conversation with growing fascination. Bilbo was a lively old man. Very likable and had all the makings of a natural poet. To imagine the idea of any student she'd ever had the displeasure to teach sitting in a corner just to think! Some of her fellow professors, back when she had taught in a university, rarely sat and thought about something substantial.
"I'm stuck now, my boy! You lot finished your feast too soon and now the lines will flutter away from me. I shall have to ask Dunedin to help me," He rationalized.
Lord Elrond who was a little bit away and had heard this discourse inclined his head, "We shall find him directly."
While messengers were sent out to find Bilbo's friend the old Hobbit told Frodo all about what had become of him after they last parted. As Brianna didn't have much context of what had happened before she found herself listening to a song currently being sung by a female elf. Her voice was light and airy and echoed with little emotion. Brianna sighed and moved to sit against the wall.
No musical genius indeed! She thought. This place needs a Mozart.
"Have you got it here?" She heard Bilbo whisper.
The secrecy of the question startled her back from the song and her musings about Mozart. Brianna returned her gaze to the hobbits and noticed Frodo looking incredibly uncomfortable about something.
"I can't help feeling curious, you know, after all I've heard. I should very much like just to peep at it again," Bilbo continued.
Brianna's eyes narrowed. What was he playing at?
"Yes, I've got it," answered Frodo, feeling a strange reluctance. "It looks just the same as ever it did."
"Well, I should just like to see it for a moment," said Bilbo.
She was very much alert at that. Bilbo was all too eager to see this ring that even she hadn't laid eyes on. There was never a desire to. Frodo reaches into his shirt and drew it out. Brianna felt the great sense of absurdity at her situation hit her once again. The ring was plain good. There wasn't anything extraordinary about it. In fact it wouldn't even fit on her thumb let alone any of her other fingers.
Then she saw the pull with Bilbo and the change in expression on Frodo's face and realized why it was so dangerous. The ring played with one's heart's desire. Bilbo's was always to be left alone thus the ring became beautiful to him. Frodo's was a life of peace surrounded by comfort and beauty and the ring played with that. It whispered into their hearts and minds and told them of all the things it could make better for them. A power so subtle was dangerous.
I can make you never be elven Queen. I can help you bring them back, she heard in her mind.
Brianna's brows shot to the top of her forehead. If she'd needed any confirmation there it was.
I'd rather be skinned alive for the rest of my outrageously long life, she replied to it then promptly shut it out of her mind and heart.
She could feel its rage at having been brushed off so easily. It made her smile. It clearly didn't like being brushed off.
Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo's face and passed his hand across his eyes.
"I understand now," he said. "Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have come in for this burden; sorry about everything. Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well, it can't be helped. I wonder if it's any good trying to finish my book? But don't let's worry about it now –let's have some real News! Tell me all about the Shire!"
Frodo obliged and Brianna returned her attention to the music feeling remarkably light hearted. The ring was just as ridiculous as she thought it was.
Aragorn has returned several hours earlier and had taken a private dinner in his rooms. Shortly thereafter he took out a particularly riveting account of a the life of Earendil and amused himself in its lyrical prose. Such a reading was short lived when a knock from one of Lord Elrond's messengers interrupted his reading.
"Master Bilbo asks that you join him in the Hall of Fire. He says he has a particularly trying poem he is working on and needs the contribution of your expertise," the elf said with an amused smile.
Aragorn chuckled and told the messenger to let Lord Elrond and Bilbo know that he would be there shortly. He washed his face and changed into a green silk tunic before setting out for his requested destination. A few turns away from the hall Aragorn came upon a man in travel clothing – human – gazing in wonder at the great painting. The man reached out and traced the depiction of a broken Narsil.
"Such detail! It the very image I see when I read of it," said the traveler.
Aragorn watched him silently curious as to who this person was and why they were in Elrond's house. Was he there for the Council? The traveler glanced in his direction, blinked, then stepped away from the mural seemingly embarrassed at being caught admiring.
"Forgive me! I was merely admiring the history shown to us here. I am Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor. I have come for Lord Elrond's council on an important matter," he said.
"Lord Elrond is engaged at present," Aragorn replied, "but he will be available on the morrow. Have you been offered food and shelter?"
"Yes! One called Elrohir discovered me at the stables and helped me with accommodations. I had hoped… but I suppose it matters not. The hour is late and I have traveled far. Matters of importance should be discussed with a clear conscience," Boromir offered a smile.
Aragorn merely nodded. If Elrohir found this traveler relatively benign then he supposed it would be alright to at least let him find his room. Boromir, as Aragorn remembered he was called, inclined his head.
"Pleasant evening to you," he said and left the hall back in the direction Aragorn had come.
He stepped toward the mural and studied it frowning up, not at the broken sword, but at the likeness of his ancestor who held it. Isuildor who's folly had left them in the predicament they were in now. Now the ring was close to him and though he currently had no desire for it his heart could change later on. He was a son of Isuildor's line. The weakness was there.
"You are not Isildur," came a withered elderly voice from behind him.
Aragorn glanced over his shoulder and saw the grey form of Gandalf sitting on a wall bench opposite him smoking a pipe. The old wizard smiled gently in his direction and Aragorn returned his attention to the mural and shook his head.
"The same blood flows through my veins and the same weakness. I cannot foresee a moment when I will not snatch the ring from Frodo's grasp should he offer it to me, or if I see it simply lying there unattended," he said softly in an attempt to mask the full weight of the fear coursing through him.
Gandalf shifted behind him and Aragorn imagined him leaning forward as he blew out a smoke ring.
"May I remind you that it is not only Isildur's blood that flows through your veins, but Earendil's as well?" Gandalf admonished kindly.
Does this wizard read minds? He wondered.
Aragorn smiled ruefully and replied, "There is none like him, Mithrandir."
Gandalf chuckled, "Every man and women is one of their own kind despite similarities. You are your own person, Estel, and the strength of one's character is not reflected in one's bloodline, but in the person they allow themselves to become."
He remained silent, unwilling to reply to his friend's words. While he was certain Gandalf was right, he always was, it didn't allay the self-doubt that continued to plague him. There was no guarantee.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Aragorn blinked as if waking from a trance. Brianna said that phrase many times. He needed to ask her about the context.
"Well, my boy, I have come to tell you that dinner has ended and everyone has gathered in the Hall of Fire. There, I imagine, you will find a certain elf maiden with an affinity for hiding small knives on her person conversing with the young masters Bilbo and Frodo," there was a tone to Gandalf's voice that made Aragorn turn around and shoot him a confused look.
Gandalf merely smiled at him.
"I take it she made fast friends with Bilbo?" Aragorn asked after a moment.
"Oh, not yet. Frodo's taken most of the conversation though I suspect they will discover similar interests soon," Gandalf replied sagely.
Aragorn smiled. The things she and Bilbo could talk about! He certainly wished to be present for that conversation.
"I am certain they will," he replied.
"I'm certain she'll be happy to see you," Gandalf remarked.
Aragorn raised a brown, "What makes you believe that?"
"She was wondering where you were. Seemed a bit disappointed you weren't there, though I doubt she's the type who will openly admit to it," the wizard replied with a chuckle following shortly after.
Aragorn pursed his lips. He understood why Gandalf was attempting to speak to him about this. The matter; however appealing it may be to him, was out of the question. Brianna wasn't just an elf. She was from another world. To consider her as anything else but a friend would lead them both to ruin.
"I am glad she is well," Aragorn settled for as a reply.
Gandalf still grinned at him and Aragorn's shoulders sagged. What passed between them a few mornings ago had, indeed, been noticed.
"Mithrandir," Aragorn started then faltered.
What can I say? I don't even understand it, he thought.
"Bilbo waits," Gandalf said, "Best go an help him with his song."
With that the wizard wandered off leaving Aragorn to stare after him for a moment before turning for the Hall of Fire. The rest of the journey required one extra turn and twenty more steps before the door to the Hall was made visible. His stomach squirmed in anticipation and Aragorn has to calm himself before entering the hall.
At first he couldn't see them. There were many people in the hall and two dwarves were singing a duet together. Some of the elves in attendance seemed to be enjoying the ballad while others looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Brianna, he noticed when he finally found her with both Bilbo and Frodo, seemed to be one of those elves who thoroughly enjoyed the show. She was clapping her hands together in time with the beat and laughing at the appropriate places. Aragorn smiled at the sight. He had grown to like her when they traveled, but seeing her relaxed was another matter entirely. She was beautiful.
Bilbo looked up at this point and grinned, "Ah! Dunadan! There you are! I was wondering where you got to!"
Brianna heard this and finally saw him as he made his way to them across the hall. She seemed stunned for a moment before making as if to stand. He smiled and motioned for her to stay and watched her relax once again.
"Dunadan? Why do you call him that?" Frodo asked.
"It's a strange one," Brianna agreed, "tell us all Bilbo or I'll be forced to extract it from Aragorn, here!"
She winked at him. He flushed. Bilbo smiled at him and Aragorn didn't miss the particular look in his eyes that told him what Aragorn had wanted to hide was easily seen by those who knew him well. Frodo looked only looked confused.
"And why do you call him Dúnadan?" asked Frodo.
"The Dúnadan,' said Bilbo. 'He is often called that here. But I thought you knew enough Elvish at least to know dúnadan: Man of the West, Númenórean. But this is not the time for lessons!" He turned to Strider. "Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? Glorfindel was there and it was assumed you would be here."
"I was," Aragorn replied, "I only returned shortly before the feast began, but I needed rest. We tracked many creatures these past few days."
Brianna leaned forward, "Are they able to cross into Lord Elrond's lands?"
"No," Aragorn replied and met her eyes, "there were a few we think first appeared here, but they are no longer alive."
She smiled, "Good."
Her eyes captivated him and Aragorn felt the danger of continuing to allow himself to be drawn in by her beauty. Brianna, like most elves, was relatively unaware of how beautiful she was. In her case she shown like the joyful flames in the Hall of Fire. If he didn't exercise caution his heart would make an ill-advised decision.
Bilbo cleared his throat and interjected, "Well, my dear fellow now you've had your rest, can't you spare me a moment? I want your help in something urgent. Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!"
Strider smiled and turned away from her. Brianna laughed and nudged Frodo. She murmured something slightly below his hearing that made the young Hobbit burst into barely controlled laughter. Bilbo smiled at him and Aragorn decided it was best not to address anything Bilbo may have noticed.
"Come then!" he said. "Let me hear it!"
Brianna watched as Bilbo and Aragorn drew away from them a ways. The old hobbit took out a few sheets of paper and pointed out whatever he was having trouble with. Her smile never left her face and she turned to Frodo who looked a bit forlorn now that his uncle left to do something else.
"The music has been interesting," she said.
"Are you going to sing?" He asked.
Brianna shuddered, "By The Triune I think not! You've heard a couple songs from my world. You know they're not as beautiful as those sung here."
Frodo shrugged, "I thought yours had some life."
"A human did write it," she replied.
"Do your people not have their own music?"
Brianna paused to reflect on her answer before giving it, "We do, but we've influenced the human race in the arts. There's little they do that we haven't shown them."
Frodo leaned forward and smiled, "That sounds wonderful. Does all music on earth sound the same or is it different?"
Brianna pulled a face, "It sounds different and the same. Some of what's popular for the masses isn't particularly good."
The way Frodo stared up at her told her everything she needed to know. He wanted her to sing something. The current song had ended a minute or two earlier Brianna wasn't entirely certain and the attending elves all began looking at the two of them.
"We wait patiently for Master Bilbo to finish his song. We'd like to hear one from you, Miss Brianna," Glorfindel said.
Brianna glanced at the lot of them and felt a bit frustrated. She didn't like singing in front of people. Not after her experience in that thrice damned opera house. Vary blue and green eyes stared at her. All waited as if they held their breaths not expecting her to decline.
She sighed and stood. There was probably something she could sing. In the end she did find something. It would also be radically different from what they were used to.
Never mind the fact that it would sound better with an orchestra, she thought.
"This is a piece written about one hundred and fifty years ago by a man named Friedrich von Flotow. On earth we have musical plays called arias. This is a piece from the opera, Martha," she said as a bit of an introduction.
Then she closed her eyes, took a breath, remembered what the words to the song meant and suddenly wished she picked something else. There was no going back now. Surely the elves of Arda didn't know German?
"Zum treuen Freunde geh'.
Den Plan ihm zu entdecken,
Den mein bereuend Herz
Voll Zuversicht erdacht,
Aus dumpfer Schwermuth
Traum den Theuren zu erwecken
Mit neuem Hoffnungsstrahl
Nach trüber Kerkernacht.
Noch vernahm er nicht die Kunde,
Wie die Zukunft schön ihm tagt.
Ja! Ich heile selbst die Wunde,
Die ich schlug!
Es sei gewagt!
Den Theuren zu versöhnen
Durch wahre Reu',
Sein Dasein zu verschönen
Mit Lieb' und Treu'
Mein Loos mit ihm zu theilen,
Durch's Leben hin zu eilen,
Ach welch Glück!
Ja, nun darf ich frei ihm sagen,
Wie mein Herz, seit ich ihn sah,
Nur für ihn geschlagen, ja!
Wie sein Bild mir immer nah'.
Ah! O seliger Gedankem
O Hoofnungsschein!
Es sank die Trennungsschranke,
Mein wird er, mein, ja, mein!"
When the last echoes her voice died in the room the attendants erupted in applause. Then the questions began. Brianna had never been set upon by a more enthusiastic audience. The question most common concerned what exactly an opera was. Such a concept of singing and acting was foreign to them. In fact Brianna began to suspect that acting on a stage in front of an audience hadn't yet been invented. Others inquired after the language and the meaning of the words.
"Is this a love song?" Arwen finally asked.
Brianna wasn't sure if her face reflected her embarrassment, but she decided to refrain from even glancing toward anyone in particular.
"Of a sort…" she said.
Admitting that stirred an excitement in the room. Sensation hummed in the air and the elves wanted to know the whole plot of the opera. Who was this woman singing such a sweetly beautiful song?
The dwarves were less excited about the meaning of the song. In fact one whom Brianna remembered conversed with Frodo at the feast looked increasingly smug.
"I recognized some of the words," he announced.
The elves, in their excitement, turned to him. It took all of Brianna's self-control to refrain from groaning. Another dwarf, a younger version of the one Frodo spent the evening speaking with, walked up to her and patted her hand.
"I enjoyed it," he said, "it's nice to hear something close to our language sung by such skill. You called it German?"
Brianna sank to her knees and smiled at him, "It is. There's three favorite languages for operas: German, French, and Italian. I, personally, enjoy singing in German."
She spent about an hour discussing differences between the language the dwarf, Gimli she learned, and German. This devolved into a discussion of architecture in Germany and the many hundreds of castles built in that country. Gimli spoke of the great underground palaces and cities built by his people completely carved from the rocks of the mountains.
A voice with a remarkably pure tenor interrupted her description of Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany and the dwarf and elf ceased their conversation to listen.
"Eärendil was a mariner that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow he fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.
Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste he turned in haste,
and roving still on starless waters
far astray at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw of shining shore
nor light he sought. The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled from west to east,
and errandless, unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him, a
nd flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light,
and dauntless then with burning brow he turned his prow;
and in the night from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey and long-forsaken seas distressed:
from east to west he passed away.
Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran o'er leagues
unlit and foundered shores that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees of Valinor,
and Eldamar beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair where keen the air,
where pale as glass beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then of folk of Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed forbid to those that dwell therein.
A ship then new they built for him of mithril and of elven-glass w
ith shining prow; no shaven oar nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light and banner bright
with living flame to gleam thereon by Elbereth herself was set,
who thither came and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come behind the Sun and light of Moon.
From Evereven's lofty hills where softly silver fountains
fall his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From World's End then he turned away,
and yearned again to find afar his home through shadows journeying,
and burning as an island star on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn where grey the Norland waters run.
And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star to pass,
and tarry never more on Hither Shores where mortals are;
for ever still a herald on an errand that should never rest to bear
his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse."
Brianna and Gimli smiled at Bilbo and applauded with the rest of his listeners. Aragorn, she noted, was more than happy to duck away from all of the attention Bilbo was getting in regards to the song. She waved at him and he came. Gimli also raised his hand in greeting.
"Aragorn! It's good to see you again! Some years have passed since we last spoke. Where were you this evening?" He asked.
"Resting," Aragorn said, "I was fatigued after searching for signs the enemy."
"We must meet at the training grounds tomorrow, my friend," Gimli said and stood, "but now I must depart. Father is motioning for me and I suspect he may be fatigued."
Brianna smiled, "I hope you and your father rest well thig night."
Gimli bowed to her. She saw Aragorn raise an eyebrow. In return Brianna inclined her head.
"Many thanks for your stimulating conversation and the beautiful song, my lady," he said and left.
Aragorn sat beside her on the ground. Silence descended between them as another song drifted into the hall. Brianna noticed that Frodo and Bilbo were silently taking their leave. The younger hobbit glanced her way and she met his gaze with a smile. They listened in silence as two companions who had worked together to meet a specific goal and became friends along the way.
"Was it a romantic song?" Aragorn asked after a while.
She flushed and mumbled an affirmative. At a glance she saw the corners of his lips quirk into his version of a smile. The expression in his blue eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was amused by the choice of song.
"It's a beautiful song," she whispered, "the plot of the opera, itself, is rather silly, but the aria is beautiful."
"A song is only as beautiful as the voice that sings it," Aragorn countered and caused her flush to redden.
"You should hear the instruments that accompany the song. They add to it and are probably what would make it all the more beautiful," she said while remembering singing the piece backed by the accompanying orchestra.
Aragorn looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Did you... what sort of magic do you have?"
She blinked, "It's mostly elemental in nature with a few variations. Why do you ask?"
"I could hear an echo of music. Where you thinking of it?" He asked.
Brianna frowned. He could hear the orchestra? She had brought the instrumentals in the background of her mind with a few variations to account for her acapella rendition, but for other people to hear the orchestra? She wasn't consciously bringing it to her forethought nor was she attempting to project it into the minds of the people in the room.
Her brows furrowed. This was a strange bit of knowledge she just learned and Brianna wasn't sure how she should proceed with it. A weight settled on her hand and rough fingers curled into the palm of her hand.
"Do not think of it," he said softly, "very few understand our own magic. Your song was a blessing to us. Do not fear what the rest of us heard."
"I remember when Aragorn who was Strider did not trust my magic and went so far as to call it sorcery," she reminded him.
Their eyes met and she was lost in their blue sea.
"I changed my perception."
Oh dear... she thought, he's beautiful.
His eyes reflected the intensity of his feelings. He was awed, afraid, and enraptured by her. Brianna admired his eyes, the slant of his brow and the angle of his jaw. All of it formed the picture of a man who beheld her, saw her, not as a huntress or a queen, but as something softer.
And he... he was softer in the halls of Imladris than in the wild. Clothed in simple, but comfortable garb cleaned from the dirt and grim gathered on such trips. Once the wild was removed a man, not ugly or particularly plain, but kind and noble remained. It stole her breath away.
Shit, what am I doing?
Brianna pulled her hand away. It was like wrenching her shoulder out of its socket. The movement was a stab to her heart and she couldn't understand why. He wasn't from earth. One day she would have to leave, have to return, and have to rule her people in earnest.
"I should go," she said and stood, "Frodo and the hobbits invited me to breakfast tomorrow and then there is that council a bit later. I've been invited to attend. Lord Elrond has provided me with a week's worth of clothes and I should prepare."
Aragorn rose with her, "Would you like me to walk you to your rooms?"
"No thank you, Aragorn," she said, "its best I go alone."
Understanding passed across his face and the wall they'd crossed for only a moment fell back in place.
"Of course. Good night, Brianna. Rest well," he muttered.
"And you as well, Aragorn," she said and allowed all of her affection for him saturate her tone.
Because I do care for you more than I ever thought I would. And I can't let it get too far, she thought.
There was no denying it as she turned away from him and left the Hall of Fire to return to her quarters on the other side of Lord Elrond's house. She was attracted to Aragorn and there was a high possibility he was attracted to her. It couldn't grow beyond that. She wouldn't let it. She would speak her piece at the council, discuss with them what she suspects might be the case – as limited her knowledge on the subject of inter-world travel was – then figure out a way to not only repair and close anything her enemies may have opened, but then return to earth where she was supposed to be in the first place. There was no room for a ranger from Arda no matter how noble he was.
Brianna's a bit cold here, but from my perspective it's completely in character. She's busy, she has some evil bastards to kill! She ain't got time for some Aragorn. At least this is my thought process for the direction of her character. I figured this would be better than having both of them continuously deny their attraction to the other. If attraction is there then it's going to be there. Anyway, if you like that bit let me know in a review. If you didn't like it let me know anyway and, well, I won't change it because I'm a busy woman with National Novel Writing Month and all, but I will try to scale it back.