Part 2 : The Council Gathers
*Note: I took the liberty of making Glóin a bit of a scholar who knows just a little bit of the Elvish language. I had planned to use Gimli in that line, but it didn't make sense. It was one of those cases where I just needed someone to say it, to fit the story. *shrug*
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When Wren woke the next morning, she could hear from a distant part of the House the sounds of preparation. Today, the expected representatives of the Free Peoples would arrive. She rose and opened her window - immediately three or four songbirds started to flutter around outside. Laughing, she spoke to them, asking each to fly out and watch for the visitors, listen, and to bring back to her whatever they learned. The birds trilled agreement and vanished into the dawn.
Sighing happily, she shed her nightclothes and dressed in the garments she had chosen for acting out the part of a stable-hand. Where usually she would wear something in soft green, she now pulled out grey breeches and a tunic of silver-grey and pale blue. She fastened a grey cloak about her shoulders with a simple clasp, and girded her waist with a hand-tooled leather belt that had been a project of hers over the summer. Upon the belt hung a knife sheath - only by looking at her weapon could anyone know she was not the simple groom she appeared to be. The knife had been a gift passed to her from her father. Its blade, longer than her forearm, was forged of mithril and steel and crafted to imitate the flowing curves of the wind upon water. Set into the pommel was a large moonstone, and there were gems of sapphire and diamond on the hilt. It was her most prized possession.
She braided her hair back away from her face and sat quietly for a few moments, wondering how the day would play out. About an hour after waking, Wren slipped on her soft leather shoes and started across the House towards one of the courtyards on the opposite side, near the stables. She sensed Gandalf's presence there and greatly desired to speak with him ere the strangers began to arrive. She found him sitting on the edge of a footbridge pulling at his pipe and blowing smoke-rings.
Before she could speak to him, however, two songbirds converged upon her, one landing on her shoulder, the other on her outstretched hand. The first chirped harshly at the other, demanding silence, and then told Wren of a lone Man approaching from the south, only a few hours ride away from Rivendell. He was clad in raiment the like of which the little creature had never seen, though the Man spoke often to himself of "Imladris," and "the Enemy," and "the fall of Gondor." Now Gondor was a name familiar to Wren, and she thanked the bird, letting it go its own way.
The bird on her hand, a sparrow of brilliant yellow and green, older and wiser than the other, watched it leave, then began its own tale. It had come upon a small group of Elves whom it recognized as coming from the Mirkwood. There were three of them, and one was treated with deference by his fellows. They were less than half a day's easy ride from the Valley, but were traveling at a good pace. Upon finishing its report, it bobbed its head in farewell and left.
Gandalf heard the birds' commotion and had turned to watch the exchange. He now smiled at Wren as she came towards him. "Well, what news do your friends bring of the outside world, Ever-Child?"
She laughed. "Those seeking Elrond's counsel draw near, Mithrandir. Two groups are very close - one from the south, one from the east - and both shall arrive before midday." Wren smiled proudly. "The first is a lone Man who seems to come from Gondor. The second is a group of Elves from Mirkwood. One among them is of a higher authority, respected by the others. They all come in haste." A small sound off in a nearby shrub caught her attention and distracted her entirely.
"Not bad, Wren," Gandalf applauded her efforts. "You are well ahead of all save Elrond and I, and those in our confidence, of course. Have you any more spies watching for our coming guests?"
Silence answered his inquiry. The Wizard watched Wren for a moment while she stared intently at the undergrowth. "Wren?" Still no reply. Suddenly a small fox-cub came tumbling out of the shrubbery and ran headfirst into Wren's ankles. It sat back and stared up at her, head cocked to one side. She laughed, reaching down to scratch its ears.
Gandalf loudly cleared his throat.
Wren straightened and looked at him. "Yes?" she asked, having been completely diverted from the original conversation. Yet Gandalf wondered. There was no distraction in her eyes - they were clear, intent, and full of mirth and mischief. Was her short attention span and childlike innocence all an act? He sighed.
"Never mind, I suppose it does not matter."
She laughed and came and sat beside him. "Well, in that case I have a favor to ask of you, Mithrandir."
"Oh?" He did not seem surprised. "I thought there must be some reason why you sought me out. What do you need?"
Wren looked somewhat uncomfortable. "It is nothing I need." She stared off across the courtyard, feeling the rough stone of the bridge beneath her hand. After a long pause she went on. "The Dwarves will also arrive today."
"Yes, most likely. Not until later this afternoon. They will be the last to come."
"No. Elladan and Elrohir will be the last." She looked at him. "They will not return until sometime tomorrow."
That startled him. "Did your winged friends tell you this?"
"No." Wren did not explain how she knew, and Gandalf, aware that often she knew things without any understanding of how the information had come to her, did not ask. There was another long pause. Finally she continued.
"If it would not be too much trouble, I would deeply appreciate it if you could teach me enough of the Dwarf language that I might greet them in their own tongue when they arrive." The silence that met her request was deafening, and the scratching of the young fox playing on the flagstones seemed unnaturally loud.
Gandalf thought long about how best to answer her. It was an odd request, coming from an Elf. Apparently Wren had none of the natural enmity that lived between the Elves and Dwarves. She truly wished to honor them by greeting them in such a manner. Finally, he stood and started off back towards the House.
"Gandalf?" Her soft plea stopped him.
He answered her unspoken question. "I need to speak with Elrond immediately."
"Oh," Wren replied, dismayed. "I suppose it was a foolish thing to ask?"
The Wizard turned back to her. "No, Wren," he answered quietly. "It was very kind and very noble of you. However, I must discuss this matter with Elrond before I go teaching one of his people Dwarvish. Your doing them such an honor could cause problems later due to the continuing dislike between the Elves and Dwarves." He smiled at her. "You are the only Elf I know who would ever consider such a thing, Bright Bird. If Elrond does not object, I will teach you as much Dwarvish as you are willing to learn."
Wren smiled up at him, cheerful once more. "Thank you, my friend."
He nodded, and went into the House. Wren stood and made her way to Rivendell's stables.
Wren spent two hours readying the empty stalls for the guests' horses. She greatly enjoyed the work as it was so different from her usual routine and took her time about it. Once another Elf had come in and offered to help, but, wishing to use this time to think on how best to approach the strangers, she graciously declined. No sooner was she ready to sit and take a moment's rest than the little fox-cub, whom she had asked to keep watch, ran into the stable and alerted her that the first of the visitors, the Man from Gondor, had arrived.
For a moment she froze in fear. Never had she met a Man other than Aragorn since she had arrived in Rivendell, and she was not certain how he would react to a Half-Elf. Idiot! she finally told herself. You are being ridiculous. A Man cannot tell the difference between a Half-Elf who has chosen the Elven life and a full Elf! Some do not even recognize Elves as being different from Men. He is meeting me in an Elvish House - it will most likely not occur to him that I could be anything else. Resolved, Wren went out to meet him.
The Man rode beneath the arch that marked the division between the natural growth of the Wild and the gardens of Imladris and stared about in wonder. He had heard legends of this Elvish stronghold, but nothing in his imagination could have prepared him for the wonderful reality. He dismounted, unable to clearly think in his awe. Suddenly a She-Elf clad in grey and blue stepped lightly onto the path in front of him.
"Greetings and welcome, Lord of Gondor!" Wren hailed him. "Welcome to Rivendell, the House of Elrond. May you find here rest from your long journey and peace from the burdens you carry in your heart."
The Man bowed slightly, wondering at her beauty as well as her words. "Thank you, Lady," he replied politely. "I am here-"
"To speak with Master Elrond," Wren finished for him with a smile like sunlight. She pointed along up the path. "Follow this path - do not turn from it - and it will lead you to the House. My Lord Elrond is expecting you." She stepped forward and gently laid a hand on his horse's bridle. The stallion lowered his head and breathed softly into her palm. She smiled and turned back to the Man. "I will see that your steed is well taken care of."
"Thank you," he said again, his eyes wide with surprise.
Wren bowed, spoke softly to the horse, and began to lead him to the stables. However, the Man stopped her before she had gone far.
"Wait!" He strode towards her. "Can you tell me - will your Lord be able to speak with me soon?"
This was not the sort of question Wren had expected or prepared for, but she answered as truthfully as possible. He almost sounded desperate. "I know not. Master Elrond is expecting many visitors with pleas to set before him." She was thoughtful for a moment. "I believe he may ask you to wait and present your troubles at a council, along with all the rest, for many of your questions may be answered there. However the one who holds the greatest burden is currently recovering from great injury. My Lord cannot hold council until he wakes."
While the Man did seem somewhat disappointed, he was not surprised in the least. "How soon will that be?"
"I believe he should wake tomorrow, so the council will be no sooner than the day after." Wren frowned slightly. "Are you under heavy time constraints, my Lord?"
He smiled wearily and shook his head. "No, not really, I suppose. It can wait a few days more. Thank you, once again, fair Lady." With that he turned and started up the path Wren had pointed out to him.
She watched him go, then turned back to his steed. "Well now, friend, let us see what we can do for you!" As she led the stallion toward the stables she laughed. "I can see already that Men will be difficult for me to understand, even now. They were incomprehensible enough before I came to Rivendell!" The horse snorted softly. He had lived among Men all his life and did not always understand them. "That makes me feel a great deal better, my friend," she sighed.
Once the Man's horse was untacked, groomed, and settled, Wren left the stables for a short walk. A very short walk, she soon discovered. She had not been free for fifteen minutes when the fox-cub found her again - the Elves of Mirkwood had arrived.
"Well!" she told the cub indignantly. "I am certainly glad the Dwarves will not be arriving until this afternoon, Refsil. I would very much like an hour to myself!" He barked in agreement.
Wren hurried towards the entrance to the gardens and paused just before reaching the path. From here, she could see them, but they could not see her. She stared in shock at the trio riding under the archway. The figure in the lead, staring about him with the air of one returning to a much-loved place under circumstances less than fortunate, was an Elf she recognized immediately. He had come to Rivendell before. He would not, however, recognize her. Though she had watched him many times as he wandered through the gardens of Imladris, she had been very careful to stay out of sight. Lord Thranduil sends his son? she thought, incredulous. Their tidings must be bad indeed if he is willing to risk his heir!
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Wren stepped forward and greeted them. "Welcome Master Legolas! Well met, messengers of Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood!" The two Elves riding behind Legolas looked at her, and seemed startled, but he dismounted, looking towards the House, and seemed not to hear. "May the peace of this House ease the burdens on your souls."
"If peace remains anywhere in Middle-Earth," Legolas said distantly, "then surely here it can be found." He glanced at her momentarily, and then properly looked at her, his bright eyes widening slightly.
She bowed. "We do our very best to preserve that peace, my Lord." She straightened and smiled at them as the other two Elves dismounted. "Master Elrond is expecting you. I will see to your mounts."
"Thank you, Lady," said one of the others as Wren softly spoke to the stallion Legolas had ridden. The horse walked beside her as turned and went once again to the stable, and the other two followed them.
The three Silvan Elves of Mirkwood stared after her. "Forgive me," said the one who had thanked her a moment before, "but does it not seem odd that one so fair is acting as a stable-hand for Lord Elrond? She looks more like she should be a Lady of his House!"
The other agreed, and they began to make their way along the path. "She reminds me of the Lady Arwen, though light instead of dark."
Legolas said nothing and for a moment did not move, but stared along the path she had taken. As his companions passed him, he seemed to shake himself out of a daze and followed them towards the House.
Wren was so unnerved by her encounter with the Elves of Mirkwood that she was unable to bring herself to speak easily with their horses. By the time they reached the stable she was physically shaking. The stallion noticed her distress and seemed to find it highly amusing. He was in good spirits, unlike his rider, and teased Wren halfway to the stables. Finally the other two horses, a mare and her two-year-old colt, took pity on her and scolded their companion until he subsided.
It took Wren until she had untacked the mare and colt and began grooming them to get her unease under control. The stallion she left tacked until she had finished with the other two, and when he cheerfully complained she told him it was just retribution for the harassment he had given her earlier.
"No fault of mine!" he laughed at her. "You are the one who caught the Master's eye. None has done that in many a year!"
"That was hardly my intention."
The mare tossed her head. "Of course not, my dear, yet you succeeded none the less." She was by several years the eldest of the three.
Wren did not reply, but began to take a comb to the colt's tail.
The stallion was dismayed. "Oh come now! Surely I have not annoyed you that badly!" He rubbed his cheek against the stall door. "Please, Mistress, take this saddle off me. Elves may make them far better than do Men, but they are still uncomfortable."
"Oh stop whining, fool!" said the horse in the next stall. "The Lady knows what she is about." He looked over the stall door at the stallion from Mirkwood. "Though I do suppose she should not leave you tacked. It is not good for the leather..."
"Thank you," replied the stallion dryly.
Looking up, Wren laughed. "Well, since you have Asfaloth on your side, friend, I suppose I shall relent." With that, she put down the comb and removed the stallion's bridle, then the rest of his tack. He sighed contentedly as she took a brush to his coat.
"Thank you, Mistress. The past few days have been long, and we ran hard. The news Master Legolas brings to Lord Elrond is of great importance, I guess." When Wren did not reply he continued. "I am Falrahes. My companions are Gwiaen," he indicated the colt with his nose, "and Miranë. We are honored by your consideration."
Asfaloth snorted. "So under all those high spirits he actually has good manners," he muttered. Wren smiled
"I am honored to have been afforded this opportunity to meet with beasts of lands so far distant." She motioned to the bay stallion in a stall across the aisle. "Tiren there comes from the far southern land of Gondor, and Bill," she indicated the pony, "hails from the western village of Bree." Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at Falrahes. "His tale is by far the most interesting."
He gave a derisive snort, dismissing the pony, who merely chuckled in reply.
"However," she continued, "you will most likely not be under my care after today."
Miranë looked up in surprise. "Why not, Mistress?"
Asfaloth tossed his white head. "Have you not yet figured out her game, friends? Wren is a Lady of Rivendell and kin to Master Elrond. She is no mere horse-groom!"
Gwiaen turned to stare at her. "Really? So it is as our Masters suspected."
The Half-Elf blinked in surprise. "They guessed?" she gasped. "How do you know this?"
"You were too far ahead to hear, perhaps," answered Miranë, "but they were speaking amongst themselves as we left them." She proudly arched her neck. "They felt you too fair to be a stable-hand."
Without reply, Wren continued grooming Falrahes, deep in thought.
Wren stayed in the stables for quite some time, asking questions about the lands and masters of her charges. She did not permit Falrahes to speak long of Legolas - her heart raced strangely when he spoke of him. Still, she learned a great deal, and every word they spoke only made her more anxious to see the World outside Rivendell. During that time, another bird returned to her. The Dwarves were now but a few hours distant. There were four, and they hailed from the Lonely Mountain. Glóin and Gimli, Glóin's son, were the names of the two who led them. She thanked the bird and sent it on its way.
Just after midday, Gandalf found her, still sitting near the stalls.
"Well, are you still here, Little Bird?" he called. She looked towards the doorway and smiled. "I thought you would have taken this break as an opportunity to get out of the stable!" he added with a laugh.
Wren stood and greeted him. "I thought you would not come." She motioned to the horses. "They have such tales to tell, Mithrandir! I wanted to learn all they could tell me." She faltered and glanced at Falrahes.
"Almost all..." he reminded her.
"Oh, be quiet!" came her muttered reply.
Gandalf arched an eyebrow. "I see." He came forward and sat down on a stool on the other side of the aisle, clearing his throat. "Ahem. Well, I have spoken with Elrond-" He paused.
"It took long enough to gain an answer," Wren said impishly. "And?"
He gave her a long, sobering glance. "I had to speak with the guests as well, Wren. They bring here dark tidings, and though I could not spare the time to hear their full stories now, I still needed to speak with them. Elrond has asked them to await the council."
She nodded. "And?"
He blinked. "And?" he asked. "Oh! Yes. Dwarvish. Master Elrond has no objection to your learning a bit of the Dwarf language. He believes it may help bridge the gap between the two races, and I agree with him."
Wren could have cheered. Only long years of practice allowed her to keep her composure. She was quite excitable, for an Elf. Instead, she sat down quickly on her own stool and stared eagerly at him.
Realizing he would get her to talk of nothing else until he began, Gandalf carefully started to teach her. However, he would only teach enough for her to greet the Dwarves - he had no intention of making this into a long lesson. He simply did not have the time. Besides that, the Dwarves were very secretive about their language. It would be a pity if she managed to offend them while trying to honor them.
The Ever-Child held a deep love of learning the like of which Gandalf had never before seen. It did not take long for her to master the little she wished to know. Once finished, he found he still had some time before he needed to go back to take over the watch on Frodo. So, for a short time they simply sat and talked. He was especially curious as to what Wren had learned from the visitors' mounts.
"Well," she told him, "not much that would be of any great use to you, I'm afraid." She leaned back against the stall partition. "I only asked about their lands and their journeys, not about what brought their masters here."
The Wizard arched an eyebrow. "You did not ask about their riders?"
That question took Wren off guard, and she started. "Ah, well - not really, not much." Suddenly she remembered. "Although I did ask a good bit about the Man - Boromir, was his name? - but only because I know so little of Men..." She trailed off and stared at the floor.
"You did not, I take it, ask about the Elves."
Behind her, to her right, Asfaloth whickered a soft chuckle. She ignored him. "I have lived most of my life among Elves, Mithrandir, I saw no need."
"Really." Gandalf was quiet for a moment. "The Silvan Elves of Mirkwood are very different from the Elves you see each day here in Rivendell. They did, however, see a need to ask about you."
Wren's head shot up and she stared at him, eyes wide with something akin to fear. "What?" she gasped.
He laughed. "You are surprised? One thing all Elves have in common: they appreciate all forms of beauty. They did not expect to see a horse-groom so fair." Wren reddened and glared her hands, which sat clasped tightly in her lap. "Elrond had a fine time trying to think of something to tell them so as not to give your game away. But in the end, only the truth sounded like a plausible explanation."
"So they know," she sighed.
Gandalf thoughtfully stroked his mustache. "Yes. They seemed quite pleased about it, though they obviously found it amusing. Arwen was with her father when he spoke to them - she did not seem pleased that they asked."
"Of course!" Wren scoffed. "And why should she?"
It was a rhetorical question, so Gandalf did not answer. After a moment he did add, "It was rather strange, though." He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Lord Thranduil's son seemed neither pleased nor amused. Only thoughtful." He paused again. "Though his companions did not, Legolas also noticed Arwen's irritation. That seemed to leave him somewhat bemused."
Wren did not reply for a long minute, so deep was she in thought. Finally she said, "Wonderful. I should have simply kept myself out of sight, as usual."
Gandalf stood and came towards her. He put a gentle hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "It is not healthy for you to keep yourself isolated, Wren. It would be good for you to speak with them." He dropped his hand. "Especially with Legolas." His eyes clouded and grew distant as he considered his next thought. "In fact, I think it would be good for him as well."
Wren sighed. "Gandalf, I do not know if I can." His eyes focused on her once more. "I have kept myself apart from strangers for so long, I would not know what to say." She was ashamed. Never had she realized just how deeply her fear of rejection ran. "He is an Elf-Prince, old friend - how would he view a half-blood?"
Behind her, Falrahes snorted indignantly, irritated that she could think his master so petty. He reached his head over the stall door, gripped the shoulder of her tunic in his teeth, and pulled her to her feet, giving her a rough shake as he did so. Wren gave a strangled exclamation of surprise.
Had her response worried him any less, Gandalf would have laughed. He wished he had the time to help her through this transition - as it was, she would feel very alone. "I'm afraid I agree with Falrahes. I have known Legolas for long enough to be fairly certain he is not that shallow. And as for what you would say-" He paused. "Simply be your usual, impish self." She stared at him in disbelief. "I think your carefree manner would lighten his heart."
Wren gently touched the stallion's forehead and thought for a moment. She looked up into the Wizard's kind, somber eyes. "I think," she quietly replied, "perhaps, it would be a comfort to me as well, and lighten my heart."
Gandalf smiled softly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I do not think the name 'Ever-Child' will suit you much longer, dear Little Bird. You have grown in mind a great deal since last I was in Rivendell."
Her eyes were a bit too bright as she answered. "No, Mithrandir. I am simply learning to deal with the knowledge I possess."
He nodded, and with a final pat on her shoulder, he left.
For a several hours after the Wizard had left, Wren sat in silence. The horses sensed her need for it, and bothered her not at all. All of her cheerful confidence had fled, and she was left feeling incredibly alone and uncertain, even as she had as a small Elf-Child in a village of Men so long ago.
I feel like I have lived as long as Master Elrond, she thought sadly, and yet I am still young among the Elves. All these years have been so long in my heart - I have been a fool. I suppose I have always felt that, to be considered Elvish by full-blooded Elves, I needed almost to act more Elvish than they. Which is, of course, ridiculous! And this Sight does not help, this Deep Knowledge. So many horrible things it shows! Things I dare not let myself comprehend - I would go mad!
She buried her face in her arms and took a great, shuddering breath. "I cannot stay in Imladris much longer," she whispered. "Things are happening in the Wide World. Great, Dark things. I see great evil if I remain within this Valley."
Asfaloth nudged her with his soft muzzle. "Then you must chose your time of leaving carefully, Lady. Elsewise you might still miss the proper moment."
Wren looked up. "If I over-think it I will never leave."
At that moment the fox-cub came once again bounding up to her. At last the Dwarves had arrived. She stood, gathered her scattered wits, and went out to greet them.
They came riding in on shaggy ponies, looking warily out over long shaggy beards. She could have laughed at the sight of them, had she not been somewhat awed. They were not nearly as weak or cruel-looking as she had seen them depicted, and large battle-axes hung at their belts. They seemed almost ungainly, though, and somewhat squarish of build, but she sensed that they were more like coiled springs and could move with great speed and accuracy if they wished.
Wren stepped out onto the path before them and the grey-bearded Dwarf at their head reined in his mount. They stared at her with closed expressions, unreadable. She smiled warmly and bowed to them, saying in almost perfect Dwarvish: "Greetings Glóin and Gimli, son of Glóin! Well-met, Dwarves of the Misty Mountains!" She stood and nearly laughed. Their faces were not so unreadable now! "Welcome to Rivendell and the House of Elrond. May you find here rest from your journey and peace from the burdens in your hearts." The one called Gimli looked positively flummoxed. "I am Wren of Imladris," she bowed again, "at your service."
The Dwarves dismounted and bowed in turn. "At your service and your kin's!" they replied at once, in the same language. Wren was grateful Gandalf had taught her also what their reply would likely be, else she would have been lost.
Glóin came forward slightly and said, in halting Elvish, "Lady gracious, you we thank. Great honor you have done us."
Her smile widened in her own surprise, and she bowed yet again. She wondered where he had learned it. She straightened and laughed. "Come, friends!" she said in the Common Tongue. "Master Elrond is expecting you. I will see to your mounts." Wren turned to Glóin. "You were here before, years ago. I trust you know the way?"
Had her smile been any less open and honest, Glóin would have thought she teased him. As it was he took no offense. "I do indeed, Mistress Wren," he replied with a nod.
Once more Wren bowed, then took the reins of his pony. "Then farewell, until we next meet, Masters," she said, and speaking softly to the ponies, led them away.
The Dwarves were somewhat uncertain what to make of the She-Elf, but decided that perhaps Elves were not all so bad after all. Gimli, for one, never forgot her consideration, and, though in later days he met other Elves he counted greater or more fair, she was always one of the first few in his heart.
Once the ponies were made comfortable and she had asked them numerous questions about their lands, masters, and journeys, Wren finally left the stable. She returned to her rooms and bathed - she did not mind the smell of horse, but only for so long as she was actually around horses - and dressed in a simple gown of silver and blue. Over this she tied a belt of grey cord, from which hung a leather sheath, also grey, tooled in blue. Into this she placed her knife, feeling an instinctive need to wear it openly tonight. She braided her hair back with silver cord, along which tiny bells were strung that whispered softly as she moved.
Satisfied, Wren went to find some refreshment, and then to the Hall of Fire. It would spoil her earlier game, but she that no longer mattered. For the first time she was taking her rightful place as a Lady of Elrond's House.