The months had passed slowly for Amariel in Rivendell. After the newness of her arrival had waned, she found her relatives had moved back into their daily routines, leaving her to find her own entertainment.
Elladin and Elrohir spent many weeks at a time away from Rivendell, hunting orcs with the elven soldiers. Elrond had explained after his wife had been tortured by the creatures, causing her to sail for the Undying Lands, his sons had taken it upon themselves to hunt down every last orc. As such, the weeks they were gone were much less lively.
Arwen, being a lady of Rivendell, spent her time among the other elves. Occasionally Amariel joined her, but found Arwen's activities to be uncomfortable for her. She was an outsider. Although she felt nothing but welcomed, her Lorien upbringing had made her distinctly different from the elves of Rivendell.
The most interesting pastime she had discovered was spending time with Elrond and the other healers in the house of healing. Their healing processes were different from those of Lorien. The herbs they used, the methods the applied, even Elrond's own gifts of healing; she found herself immersed in learning all she could from their skilled hands.
Autumn, with its warm colors of reds and golds and oranges, slowly faded into winter. Anxious to avoid the cold air Amariel spent the majority of those winter months inside the Hall of Fire near the great hearth and its continuous roaring fire. Winter in Rivendell was much colder to her than she was used to.
Spring began stirring, slowly bringing her back outside where the budding trees had began brightening. Rivendell was green again, bright shiny greens turning into deeper shades as the leaves grew. Flowers began poking through the ground, blooming trees began perfuming the air. The sun grew warmer as summer began to make its appearance and Amariel found herself hard pressed to go back inside.
It was on one such summer day that Amariel was found by a hobbit.
"It's a rather delightful spot, is it not?"
Amariel was startled by the voice. Despite her excellent hearing her mind had wandered so far that all of her senses had taken leave. Turning towards the voice, she saw a curiously small figure standing at the balcony entrance. He carried a large red leather-bound book and a worn leather satchel. He leaned his head to one side and smiled warmly at her. She found herself returning his smile.
"I have enjoyed it these past few evenings," she replied. She straightened on the small chaise lounge. The small figure placed his book and satchel on a nearby table before turning back to her.
"Then I am very glad you have discovered my secret hiding spot," he said with a chuckle. Amariel's smile strengthened.
"Are you Bilbo Baggins?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. The hobbit nodded.
"That I am, my lady. And you are Amariel of Lorien," he said. His eyes twinkled merrily. "Quite the pleasure to meet you."
"Mine as well," she said. "My cousin has told me about you. I have never met a hobbit before and have wanted to meet you."
"That does put a lot of pressure on one's self," Bilbo said, laughing again. "I hope I give you a good impression of us hobbits."
"So far I think they are quite lovely," she said.
"You are too kind." Bilbo climbed upon one of the nearby chairs, his legs sticking outwards like that of a child. Patting his legs lightly, he continued. "Tell me, Amariel of Lorien, have you found what you are looking for in Rivendell?"
"What I'm looking for?" Amariel was caught off guard by the hobbit's question.
"Yes," laughed Bilbo. "What did Elrond call it? An 'alliance?' Silliest thing I've heard of in all my years."
"What makes it silly?"
"My dear, what you are looking for is a marriage," Bilbo said. "I myself have never been married, but I think I have learned enough about the world to know that anyone who refers to a marriage as an 'alliance' perhaps is not really wanting to be married."
Amariel was silent for several long minutes, pondering what Bilbo had said. She felt herself go limp. Laughter bubbled forth from her lips.
"You are astonishingly correct," she said, shaking her head. "I am not certain it is 'want' that drives me to marry, but rather need."
"I am not certain any one needs to marry," scoffed the hobbit. "However, life does seem present us with both the things we want and need, so there is some hope for you yet."
"Thank you, my new friend," Amariel said, smiling.
"That is not to say," he continued, frowning at her. "That the thing we want is the thing we need, nor is the thing we need the thing we want. Often one can get them confused, thinking what we need is what we want and what we want is what we need."
"You have spoken in circles, Master Baggins," Amariel said. The hobbit chuckled.
"Indeed I have." He pulled the small table to sit in front of him and opened the red book. "Perhaps you would like to hear my latest work? I am composing something for a friend of mine."
The Woodland Realm's dungeons had not had such a visitor in nearly a century. Gollum sat in his cell, singing nonsensical tunes morning and night. The guards had finally learned to tune out the songs. It was when he stopped singing that the prison felt ominous, the silence becoming nearly unbearable.
His time in the dungeon had made him grow sadder. The songs he sang became increasingly maudlin. Guards who stood watch left their shifts feeling lethargic and depressed. It was then that Gollum became a subject of their pity. They began to allow him small freedoms: stepping outside his cell once a week, fully chained but able to walk about; allowing him time unchained while he jumped along the stone walkways; letting him visit with the guards for hours at a time.
Eventually they grew to trust him enough to let him outside, to linger in the sunlight and run amongst the trees. It was not often he was allowed to do this, as there had to be many guards on hand, but when he was allowed it livened up his heart so much that the guards were given a reprieve from his sad tunes.
Gollum's favorite activity was climbing a particularly high tree, sitting amongst its tall branches, letting the wind blow coolly on his face. The guards allowed him this, often delighting in his laughter and joyful singing from up high.
"Is that creature out again?" Legolas asked with a laugh.
The captain of the guard turned, straightening to a salute as the prince of Mirkwood entered into the clearing. Legolas carried a bow, a quiver filled with arrows strapped to his back. Gone were his regal clothing, replaced with a simple homespun style.
"His time has been over, my lord, but we cannot get him to come back down today," the captain explained with a frown. "King Thranduil has said if he will not come down then he can simply stay up there."
"My father has grown soft," Legolas muttered. "I have never seen a prisoner have so many freedoms as this one."
The captain chuckled before opening his mouth to speak. Legolas held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. He walked to the base of the tree, nodding at the guard position at its base. Staring upwards, he saw the creature swinging in the branches.
"I believe the guards have told you it is time to come down," Legolas called up. Gollum stopped, glancing down at the elf before returning to his swinging.
"No, no, no, little princeling," he sang back. "Gollum is happy, happy up here!"
Before he could respond, a shrill horn blared in the distance. The guards in the clearing immediately sprang into action. Legolas could hear a low thundering of creatures running.
"Orcs!" cried a guard, running towards them.
"Guard the prisoner!" the captain shouted. He drew his long sword, preparing for the forthcoming fight.
Legolas lifted his bow and nocked an arrow, drawing it back as he quickly took aim. The first orc came into sight and he released. The arrow embedded into the orc's eye, felling him. Before he had even hit the ground Legolas had another arrow drawn back, releasing again as more orcs came into the clearing.
The clang of swords resounded, the screams of orcs being killed deafening. Legolas heard the cry of one of the guards, but did not pause in his own fighting to see who had fallen.
"Free!" He heard a shrill voice cry. Spinning around he saw Gollum scampering from the fray. "Stupid elves! Orcs has freed Smeogol!"
"The prisoner!" Legolas yelled. But nothing could be done. Gollum had escaped.
When the last orc was beaten and the wounded elves taken to the healing rooms, Legolas sat. He was not tired but felt wholly defeated. Gandalf and Aragorn had trusted the elves of the Woodland Realm with Gollum. He knew the creature had been dangerous, a threat to his home. Gollum's knowledge of the ring…
Legolas scowled. The odds of a group of orcs attacking in such a manner were slim. Attacking at the precise moment a dangerous prisoner would be out of his cell was even more unlikely. Yet it had happened.
"This was planned," he said. The captain of the guard turned to him, a confused look on his face.
"My lord?"
"The orcs' attack. It was planned," Legolas said. He rose quickly. "I must find my father."
Autumn had come again. It was early in the day, the sun having just peeked over the turning trees, when Amariel discovered mounted guards preparing to leave. Among them was a particularly beautiful Elf, his long golden hair flowing down his back. He was more handsome than anyone she had ever seen. Whispers of his heroic actions had been whispered during the late evening meals, and more than once Elrohir had hinted that he would make an excellent match for her. He had mounted his horse, looking as though he was born to ride. Seeing her, his face lit up and he held up a hand in greeting.
"Good morning!" he called.
"Good morning, Glorfindel," she replied. She crossed the courtyard, patting his horse as she approached. "You are off early."
Glorfindel's face turned grave.
"We are seeking someone. Lord Elrond has dispatched us to bring him here," he explained. Amariel waited for him to explain more, but he remained silent.
"I can assume you are not permitted to tell me who you seek."
"Alas," he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "Our errand is secret. Lord Elrond would be heartily displeased if you should know any more than I have already told you."
Amariel laughed. She knew her cousin would not be opposed to her knowing who Glorfindel sought. She would ask Elrond later.
"Can you tell me where you seek this stranger?"
Glorfindel's face pinched slightly. She thought it only made him more handsome. A smile threatened to appear on her lips. With a small sigh, he spoke.
"We are to travel in all directions, each of us a different route. I am to go by the Road, in hopes that I will intercept him before others do."
"What others?"
"You are in a very questioning mood this morning, my lady," Glorfindel said with a laugh.
"I suppose I do not like not knowing," she said.
"In time you will know what is coming." Elrond's voice caught her by surprise, his tone serious. "For now, I ask that you remain in ignorance until our visitor is returned safely."
"Is everything okay?" she asked, frowning in concern. Elrond gave a small shake of her head.
"I cannot yet say. We will all know soon enough."
Weeks passed and no word came from Glorfindel or the other riders. Amariel could feel the growing tension and worry from Elrond as well as in herself. He had refused to explain who they were seeking and why they were seeking him. She was uneasy, unable to go about her day as others did without desiring to demand an explanation from Elrond.
She had nearly reached her limit when an old friend arrived.
"Mithrandir!" Arwen exclaimed.
She and Amariel had been walking, the former trying to keep busy so as to not dwell on the absence of Aragorn; the latter trying not to dwell on her growing unrest. The wizened old wizard had appeared almost out of nowhere, walking at a weary stride, his grey robes dusty from travels. He wore a blue felt pointed hat and walked with a staff. Despite his grey beard and hair, Amariel could see the youthful keenness in his eyes.
"My lady," he said, nodding at Arwen. He smiled, though Amariel could tell it did not reach his eyes.
"We have not seen you in ages!" Arwen said. "What has brought you here?"
"I am afraid it is nothing pleasant," he said gravely. "I must speak with your father. Where is he?"
"He was in his chambers earlier. Come, I'll walk with you," Arwen said. The wizard waved his hand.
"No," he said. "Please do not let an old wizard darken your morning. I remember the way."
He turned from them, walking towards the house, when he called over his shoulder, "I look forward to speaking with you soon, Daughter of Finrod."
When he was out of their sight, Arwen looped her arm through Amariel's, tugging her to follow.
"Let us go after him," Arwen said, all levity gone from her voice. "His grave news could be of Aragorn."
"Or it could not be," Amariel argued. She planted her feet, causing Arwen to jerk to a stop. "I know you are afraid for him, but there is something stirring. Something changing."
Arwen's expression darkened.
"Do you think I do not know that? I see my father grow more worried each day. I see my brothers' return each time seeming defeated. I hear the whispers, the murmurs," she said. Amariel could hear a slight hitch in her voice, as though she were close to tears. "Forgive me if I cannot put those worries ahead of those for my love."
"Arwen," Amariel began, reaching her hand towards her. She moved just out of Amariel's reach.
"I will see you at dinner," Arwen said. Without another word, she turned, Amariel wordlessly watching her cousin leave.
The days passed by with no explanation from Elrond nor did Amariel see Mithrandir. Wherever he was staying she was not privy to that information, much to her dismay. It had been a long time since she had last seen the grey wizard. Her family held him in the highest regard and she longed to speak with him. But as the days melded into into nights, which melded into dawns, she came to believe a conversation with the wizard was not in the close future.
She had apologized to Arwen, seeking her forgiveness for her harsh words. Her cousin had easily accepted her amends. Rivendell was tense and its inhabitants tenser. Amariel quickly discovered grace must be given for short tempers and fiery words, as she found herself emitting both more easily than she ever did.
"I demand to know what is going on," she announced one evening. She stood in the doorway of Elrond's chambers. He sat in one of his chairs, pulled close to the fire, his fingers resting at his temple. When he heard her words he looked up, startled.
"You must give me an explanation," she continued, entering the chamber. "Who is Glorfindel seeking? Why has Mithrandir arrived with grave news? Where is he now?"
"Amariel," Elrond said, a slight warning in his voice. He motioned to the chair across from him. "Please sit."
When she had sat, Elrond stood, pouring her a glass of dark red wine from a nearby side table. After handing it to her, he clasped his hands behind his back, turning to stare into the empty hearth. Silence filled the room. With a tiny sigh, Amariel took a sip of the wine, its sharp flavor hitting her tongue. Elrond returned to his seat, his posture not as rigid as it had been when she had first arrived.
"I have been purposely obtuse the weeks," he began. Amariel raised her brows in a silent acknowledgement, but said nothing. "Perhaps it is my own way of protecting you as I would my daughter. I have been told, however, that it is unnecessary to protect you as I would her."
"Told by who?" Amariel asked. Elrond gave her a small smile.
"Mithrandir has known you for quite some time," he replied. "He also knew my wife. Upon reflection and him pointing out that you were both cut from the same cloth, I have realized keeping you in the dark has been my own folly. Please allow me to apologize and I ask that you forgive me. I am sorry for not explaining our situation to you earlier and would like to do so now.
"To answer your first question, Glorfindel is seeking one who carries a heavy burden; the Ring-bearer." Amariel's eyes shot to the heavy ring that sat on Elrond's finger. He noticed her movement and curled his fist, lifting it to inspect the ring. "You understand, then, the power this Ring-bearer holds. The Nazgul seek him, which is why I sent riders to find him. He must not be found.
"Mithrandir is still here, to answer your last question. He has been resting these days, having had a long journey here. You may wonder why I skipped your second question; not out of avoidance but rather out of hesitancy. The news he brought to us is unfavorable, and I am still pondering on the impact it may have. Please indulge me a little more time to understand it before I share."
Amariel nodded. Elrond's explanations, short as they were, did little to ease her worries. Yet she found herself comforted by his words comparing her to Celebrian. She knew Mithrandir had thought very highly of her cousin, so his words were high praise indeed.
"Mithrandir had said he wished to speak with me," she said. It was Elrond's time to nod.
"He did. He does," he amended. "He said he had word from your aunt, as well as some insight into your sought after arrangement."
Amariel frowned. She did not wish to discuss that particular subject with the wizard.
"This displeases you?" Elrond chuckled softly at her deepened frown. "I suppose it-"
Elrond was cut off as a guard burst into the chamber.
"My lord," the guard said. "He has come, but is in danger. You are needed."