The brilliant sunshine streamed through the green and gold canopy,
casting a misty twinkling pattern of light on the surface of the water.
Arwen stood still as a stone, gazing absently into the river on the border
of her land. She was growing sick with worry - it had been weeks since
they'd heard any news of the Fellowship. Arwen knew it was folly to think
that their quest would be an easy one, or a brief, pleasurable journey, but
still she longed for word of them.
She started suddenly as she heard swift and silent footsteps approaching from the direction of her home. She sighed and glumly looked out at the water, her peaceful trance destroyed by the oncoming intruder.
A thin, pale girl appeared from the cover of the trees. She hovered there nervously for a few moments, waiting for a signal to approach Arwen.
"Oh, come, now," Arwen said, not glancing back at the girl. "Ayarel, you mustn't be afraid to approach me. I wouldn't hurt you, dear friend." Arwen turned slightly and forced a small smile.
The familiar beaming grin of her closest friend spread across her dainty features and she glided quickly over to Arwen's side.
"Brooding again?" Ayarel asked, the merest glimmer of amusement creeping into her innocent green eyes.
"I worry," Arwen said quietly.
"About the Fellowship, I presume." It was a statement more than a question. Ayarel's face and features grew darker. She worried for Arwen. These days, Arwen was always wandering off alone, pacing the forest or brooding on a rock or hours at a time. And it seemed for the time that Ayarel and her father were the only two people were the only people that Arwen would consent to see.
Arwen's eyes were filled with sorrow when she met Ayarel's anxious stare. "I fear that their strength, while great among them, may not be enough to bring them all back safely," she said.
"They knew that their errand was hardly a simple one. You knew just as well as they that there is great danger in times like these, and doubly so for those travelers," Ayarel reasoned.
Arwen turned suddenly with none of her usual Elfish grace and uttered a dramatic sigh. "Ayarel, what if he doesn't return?" Arwen wailed, her voice full of anguish. "What if he doesn't come back from this journey and I never see him again? What do I do when Aragorn is lost to me?"
Ayarel gazed into the depths of the water. "That is up to you to decide," she said, "and you alone can make that choice. I cannot tell you if it is folly to wait for him or to ignore the last shreds of hope and come with your kin to the West. You must follow your heart, not my advice."
"But how am I to know when hope is lost?" Arwen pleaded. "You must be able to tell me that!"
Ayarel shook her head. "You will know when your heart tells you," she said. She stepped back. "I will leave you to your thoughts now. I do not wish to interfere with this choice of yours, as it is not my burden to bear."
Arwen looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her shoulders shook and she took several loud gulps of air. "Very well," she said quietly.
"Arwen," Ayarel said quietly, "you must retain your composure. I know this is difficult for you, but do not allow yourself to fall victim to the flaws of lesser mortals!"
Arwen ducked her head, looking ashamed of herself. Ayarel cared for her friend deeply, but seeing a noble lady falling to pieces was one thing that could not be pardoned. She watched Arwen struggling to maintain her dignity, and when she was satisfied that Arwen was calm, she turned and started back into the trees.
A great rustling sound and an erratic patter of hooves on the opposite shore caused her to freeze in her stride and pivot quickly to see if there was a threat. Arwen too had heard the noise and was already at the water's edge, peering off into the trees on the far bank, searching for the source of the commotion. Their answer came in the form of a giant battle horse and rider emerging from the trees at the mossy worn bank. The horse was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood that appeared to be not only his but those of others. He carried a wounded and tattered rider on his tired back.
The horse stumbled his way to the very edge of the water and he dropped with some clumsiness to its knees. He sipped at the water with greed, taking no notice when his rider slumped forward over his neck and moaned piteously.
By the time that Ayarel had registered that this man did not bear any unfriendly symbols or markings, Arwen had already picked up her skirts and was wading through the water towards the injured horse and rider. Ayarel made to follow her, but Arwen shook her head furiously.
"Run back and seek my father!" she called, reaching to support the rider as he toppled from the saddle altogether.
Ayarel turned back to the trees and fled as fast as her feet would carry her. Arwen could hear the receding footfalls in the back of her mind as she struggled to prop the wounded man up against a rock and calm him some to stop the bleeding. He had already lost a lot of blood through the great slash wounds at his sides and on his arms and legs, his split lip and bloody nose and various scrapes and scratches that all had a faintly red sheen to them. He had a nasty bruise forming just above his left eye, and was covered in mud and dirt. Arwen wondered with a sense of doom where the battle had taken place and how terrible the losses had been this time. Tearing off strips of his tattered vest and cloak, she wrapped the wounds on his arms and hands. She filled his small flash with water and put it to his lips, urging him to drink, but he slid further into unconsciousness and drank very little.
Night was beginning to descend over the woods and Arwen's mood grew darker with the sky. She had no fear of being out in the woods after dark, even with the war brewing in the East and battles waging so close her lands, but her patient would not be among the living much longer. He was fading quickly and if her father didn't arrive soon, any information the stranger could provide about the battle, or maybe even the progress of the Fellowship, would be utterly lost.
As if Lord Elrond had heard her silent pleas, he and Ayarel appeared on the shore in a small boat, followed by another with a stretcher and healer for the stranger. As dusk approached, Elrond and his apprentice rowed away with the strange man, leaving Arwen, Ayarel and the miserable horse alone on the foreign shore.
She started suddenly as she heard swift and silent footsteps approaching from the direction of her home. She sighed and glumly looked out at the water, her peaceful trance destroyed by the oncoming intruder.
A thin, pale girl appeared from the cover of the trees. She hovered there nervously for a few moments, waiting for a signal to approach Arwen.
"Oh, come, now," Arwen said, not glancing back at the girl. "Ayarel, you mustn't be afraid to approach me. I wouldn't hurt you, dear friend." Arwen turned slightly and forced a small smile.
The familiar beaming grin of her closest friend spread across her dainty features and she glided quickly over to Arwen's side.
"Brooding again?" Ayarel asked, the merest glimmer of amusement creeping into her innocent green eyes.
"I worry," Arwen said quietly.
"About the Fellowship, I presume." It was a statement more than a question. Ayarel's face and features grew darker. She worried for Arwen. These days, Arwen was always wandering off alone, pacing the forest or brooding on a rock or hours at a time. And it seemed for the time that Ayarel and her father were the only two people were the only people that Arwen would consent to see.
Arwen's eyes were filled with sorrow when she met Ayarel's anxious stare. "I fear that their strength, while great among them, may not be enough to bring them all back safely," she said.
"They knew that their errand was hardly a simple one. You knew just as well as they that there is great danger in times like these, and doubly so for those travelers," Ayarel reasoned.
Arwen turned suddenly with none of her usual Elfish grace and uttered a dramatic sigh. "Ayarel, what if he doesn't return?" Arwen wailed, her voice full of anguish. "What if he doesn't come back from this journey and I never see him again? What do I do when Aragorn is lost to me?"
Ayarel gazed into the depths of the water. "That is up to you to decide," she said, "and you alone can make that choice. I cannot tell you if it is folly to wait for him or to ignore the last shreds of hope and come with your kin to the West. You must follow your heart, not my advice."
"But how am I to know when hope is lost?" Arwen pleaded. "You must be able to tell me that!"
Ayarel shook her head. "You will know when your heart tells you," she said. She stepped back. "I will leave you to your thoughts now. I do not wish to interfere with this choice of yours, as it is not my burden to bear."
Arwen looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her shoulders shook and she took several loud gulps of air. "Very well," she said quietly.
"Arwen," Ayarel said quietly, "you must retain your composure. I know this is difficult for you, but do not allow yourself to fall victim to the flaws of lesser mortals!"
Arwen ducked her head, looking ashamed of herself. Ayarel cared for her friend deeply, but seeing a noble lady falling to pieces was one thing that could not be pardoned. She watched Arwen struggling to maintain her dignity, and when she was satisfied that Arwen was calm, she turned and started back into the trees.
A great rustling sound and an erratic patter of hooves on the opposite shore caused her to freeze in her stride and pivot quickly to see if there was a threat. Arwen too had heard the noise and was already at the water's edge, peering off into the trees on the far bank, searching for the source of the commotion. Their answer came in the form of a giant battle horse and rider emerging from the trees at the mossy worn bank. The horse was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood that appeared to be not only his but those of others. He carried a wounded and tattered rider on his tired back.
The horse stumbled his way to the very edge of the water and he dropped with some clumsiness to its knees. He sipped at the water with greed, taking no notice when his rider slumped forward over his neck and moaned piteously.
By the time that Ayarel had registered that this man did not bear any unfriendly symbols or markings, Arwen had already picked up her skirts and was wading through the water towards the injured horse and rider. Ayarel made to follow her, but Arwen shook her head furiously.
"Run back and seek my father!" she called, reaching to support the rider as he toppled from the saddle altogether.
Ayarel turned back to the trees and fled as fast as her feet would carry her. Arwen could hear the receding footfalls in the back of her mind as she struggled to prop the wounded man up against a rock and calm him some to stop the bleeding. He had already lost a lot of blood through the great slash wounds at his sides and on his arms and legs, his split lip and bloody nose and various scrapes and scratches that all had a faintly red sheen to them. He had a nasty bruise forming just above his left eye, and was covered in mud and dirt. Arwen wondered with a sense of doom where the battle had taken place and how terrible the losses had been this time. Tearing off strips of his tattered vest and cloak, she wrapped the wounds on his arms and hands. She filled his small flash with water and put it to his lips, urging him to drink, but he slid further into unconsciousness and drank very little.
Night was beginning to descend over the woods and Arwen's mood grew darker with the sky. She had no fear of being out in the woods after dark, even with the war brewing in the East and battles waging so close her lands, but her patient would not be among the living much longer. He was fading quickly and if her father didn't arrive soon, any information the stranger could provide about the battle, or maybe even the progress of the Fellowship, would be utterly lost.
As if Lord Elrond had heard her silent pleas, he and Ayarel appeared on the shore in a small boat, followed by another with a stretcher and healer for the stranger. As dusk approached, Elrond and his apprentice rowed away with the strange man, leaving Arwen, Ayarel and the miserable horse alone on the foreign shore.