*Notes* We're up and running again everyone! I've caught the story by its tail and held on long enough to get a general idea of where it's going. Unfortunately, the part I really want to be writing isn't until much later… but it WILL get there! Just stick with me. There may be long breaks between chapters, but the story will be worth it. (I hope so, anyway!) Well, needless to say, Wren was severely irritated with me for leaving her hanging for so long, and made writing that last chapter… Well…terrible. Consequently, I've thought of torturing her by keeping her in Rivendell longer than necessary, but that would drive me nuts, too, and completely defeat her purpose in Middle-Earth… Anyway…enough preamble! On with our Tale!
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Part 6 – FellowshipsWren's half-Elven mind chose that moment to act human, refusing to let her comprehend the words Elrond's daughter had just spoken. "What?"
For a long moment Arwen said nothing, seeming to ponder of the wisdom of whatever she was deciding. "May I join you?" she asked at last, motion to the bench. Wren nodded, but when Arwen moved to sit, Refsil half stood, and this time did not try to hide his growl. The Lady froze.
"Refsil!" Wren scolded. She plucked him from her lap and dropped him to the ground, where he landed with a yip of surprise. Then she stood. "Perhaps we should walk," she told the younger Elf, and started along the path away from the House. Arwen fell in step beside her easily. A painful twinge of nostalgia surprised Wren as she recalled the days when they had often walked through the gardens thus, years ago, when no anger had lain between them.
For a time they were silent, as Arwen carefully weighed what needed to be said. Wren had suffered a great deal from their rift, however; and was stubbornly unwilling to make this easy on her.
At last the Lady sighed, and spoke. "I am sorry, Wren. The grievance between us was of my making, and was unjustly made, also. I have regretted it often." There was a flash of white at the corner of Wren's vision as Arwen tugged a strand of raven hair behind her ear. It was an unconscious, nervous gesture, and had she not been so anxious, Wren would have laughed. The last time she had seen Arwen do that was just after the Lady had met Aragorn…
Wren pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the moment at hand. Though she wanted things to be as they once were, she knew that, in some ways, this was an impossible wish. Consequently, she was willing to risk straining things further by baring her pain in entirety. Her pride had never let her do so before, but Arwen had come to her seeking to mend their differences. The time had come to let the Lady know just how terrible that period after their severance had been.
"Regretted it?" she scoffed. "Indeed. Regretted it enough to turn a blind eye when most of Rivendell turned against me for "betraying" you. Regretted it enough to while away days of bliss and nights in the Hall of Fire surrounded by your people while I wandered the gardens alone, lost in a haze of pain and misery." Her voice had slowly risen through her tirade, and by this point the normally calm and quiet Elf-maid was quite agitated. She was not shouting, but Arwen was glad they had moved away from the house. "Regretted it enough, that I came upon Elrohir one evening, weeping as though his entire world had fallen into Darkness, because he, and for a time he alone, kept his faith in me, for which you attacked him, naming him a traitor to his own kin! Her blue-grey eyes flashed angrily as she remembered that night – a spark of lightning on a stormy field. "Oh yes, Arwen, you truly regretted it!"
Arwen swallowed an angry retort as Wren reminded her of the incident with Elrohir. While Wren stood like small pillar of raging wind and fire, Arwen wiped her misting eyes, set aside her pride, and began to work at winning back this one who had been the closest sister of her heart.
"Yes," she whispered. "I did regret it. Even when I though I hated you, I still lamented what I had lost. Every time my brothers took me out of the valley to teach me to hunt and fight, I mourned that you were not there as well to make those lessons bearable to one unsuited to them." The half-Elf snorted, and Arwen realized belatedly that perhaps mentioning her own advantages to their friendship was not the best place to begin. "When one of my ladies would come from helping you stitch a gown, or repair some tattered embroidery, I would look on her with envy, wishing it had been I who helped you. How many hours had we spent helping each other thus?" She stopped and took Wren by the elbow, forcing her estranged sister to look at her. "So many of your strengths are as one with my weaknesses, Wren, and mine, yours. We lost a great deal when we lost each other."
Wren did not reply immediately. She wanted to say all was forgiven, and take Arwen back into her heart as the close friend she had once been, but if she did so now, the rift would not e truly healed. Arwen was a noble Lady of high blood, whereas Wren, though her own blood was scarcely less, had not been raised as such. The Lady was used to relations of a more diplomatic nature, where simple placation was often enough to rebuild ties – this would not be so easily healed. For nearly a decade Wren had lived in the bitterest exile: unable to leave this place where they both lived, yet forced by pain and betrayal to flee the company of the one who knew her best. She found herself, for neither the first, nor the last, time, in the position of Arwen's teacher, showing her that not all life was the easy diplomacy of the recent Elven Lords.
"Regret does not change truth, Lady," she replied at last, disengaging from Arwen's grasp and moving a short space away. "I was branded a traitor to, and by, my dearest friend. Branded so because of curiosity and the hope that someday your father will let me out of this cage." The shadows in Rivendell's gardens were slowly deepening as the sun set behind the hills. Soon, an irrelevant part of Wren's mind reminded her, the council would be over, if it was not already, and she would have to waylay Gandalf or Glorfindel…someone…and beg for news… She pulled her mind back to the subject at hand. "Most of your people turned against me, attacked my presence here. When I was finally beginning to learn to cope with these visions, I lost every bulwark I had, save one." Her frown darkened. "And your needling comments every time I managed to gain any stability did not help!"
"I was hurt and angry – please, Wren–"
"So?" Wren shook her golden head. "My earliest memories are of my mother telling me about the kind understanding of the Elves. Even though that was nearly three thousand years ago, I still felt…worse than betrayed when your people turned on me so readily. It nearly killed me, Arwen! I almost gave up entirely…"
"They are your people, Wren."
This was not what Wren had expected. "What?"
"They are your people, as well as mine. You may have been born to a human mother, Wren, but you were still half of Elven blood." Arwen regarded her steadily, as if daring her to turn the subject back to her own pain. "The Peredhil are fortunate – we are given the opportunity to Choose our people. From the day you decided to live an Elven life, they – we – became your people."
Wren frowned, looking away. Something brushed at her ankle, and she glanced down, to see Refsil watching her with concern. He lightly set a paw on her foot, whimpering, drawing from his lady a slight, sad smile. "I never…" A lump was forming in her throat, and she swallowed to clear it. "I have always felt…that I was akin to none. To my mother only did I feel any real affinity." Bending, she picked up the distressed fox and cradled him close. "I was grateful, though, to your father, for allowing me to live here."
Arwen gently reached out, scratching Refsil behind the ear, and this time, he did not growl. "Can you forgive my prideful foolishness, my friend? I do not ask you to take me back into your heart as the sister I was. I only ask that we may not avoid each other."
Looking up at her, Wren saw at last that she could not bear to fight this battle any longer. "Life is hard, Lady," she murmured, feeling her eyes well with tears, "and it is harder with no friend to help bear it. Elrohir was-"
"My brother was not the only one to stand by you, Wren," Arwen interrupted. "Though he could not speak openly against my actions, my father was more sympathetic to you than to me. He has always loved you as his own," she added, smiling.
Wren laughed, but there was a trace of bitterness in it. "Elrond is the only father I know. Galdenë…I did not know him as more than a legend. A hero in my mother's eyes." She turned, and in the growing darkness they started walking again. "And Celebrían… She could never replace my own mother, but…"
"That is part of what I want to speak with you about."
The two stepped into an open grove, silvering as the moon began to rise. Arwen sat gracefully on a low tree-branch, and Wren upon the grass. "About Celebrían?"
The younger Elven lady's eyes grew distant. "You will leave, someday, Wren. It is I who shall be caged."
Wren had often spoken of her desire to flee the valley, but she could not see why Arwen should be forced to remain now, when she had often left before. "I don't understand."
Their roles seemed to have reversed. "Someday, you will yearn for the Havens and pass out of this world into Valinor. I will never leave Middle-Earth." She smiled down at the elder Elf. "You made your Choice so long ago, little bird. And I have made mine… But I cannot help but think, that I will never see my mother again." Despite the smile, there was a sadness in her voice that cut Wren's heart.
"Oh, Arwen, we all seem to forget that, don't we?" Wren leaned against the tree-trunk. "We know that you have Chosen for the love of Aragorn, but you lose everything in doing so."
"The gain outweighs the loss, I think."
"It is hard for me to understand, I guess. Lacking my own family, I cannot see why you would so willingly part with your own."
With a bitter laugh Arwen said, "You think I am so eager to leave them? Father will cross the sea, and Mother will meet him. But will she meet only he?" Wren looked up, sharply. "As you said, my mother could not replace yours in your heart…even so, you shall not be able to replace me in my mother's. Still, I would that you both would look to each other for what you no longer have."
"So, you want me to stand as Celebrían's daughter, once I come to Valinor?"
Arwen nodded.
"And what of her sons? Have both of the brothers Chosen?" she asked in dismay.
"Elladan is fairly sure what his Choice will be," Arwen replied, shaking her head, "for he is of like mind with our father's brother. "Star Man" – he was aptly named."
"And Elrohir?"
"He is more like our father, yet he does not wish to be parted from his twin. We know not how he shall Choose." Thoughtfully, she looked down at Wren. "Would you have him Choose the Elven life?"
For a while, the elder Elf made no reply. The stars were bright overhead when she finally answered: "I would have him make whatever Choice shall bring him happiness. Though I would miss him, if he came never to Valinor." She stood and smiled at the Evenstar, pleased that their differences were at least in part resolved. "Thank you." She turned then, and went back toward the House.
* * *
Refsil trotted gaily at Wren's heels as she walked into Elrond's House – she ignored him, permitting him to follow. The halls of Imladris were empty and silent, and what few clusters of Elves she passed were deep in subdued conversation. They paid her no mind as she walked by, though a few looked askance at the young fox. For a while she found no one whom she could question about the council, until she came to a secluded, rarely used wing of the House. Here, in a quiet study, she happened upon Elrond, sitting with a large tome open before him, deep in thought. The only light in the room came from two small candles – one on the table illuminating his book, the other on a shelf on the far wall. For a moment she stood silently, watching him, but Refsil padded over to him and sat beside his foot. He leaned against the Lord's ankles, whimpering slightly.
Elrond blinked at the cub in surprise. "Well now, little one, how did you come to be here?" he asked, lifting the fox up into his lap. Refsil licked the Elf's chin, and he smiled.
"My Lord?" Wren stepped tentatively into the room. "Have you a moment?"
He started at her voice, for he had been so deep in his own thoughts that he had not realized she was there. "Of course, Little Bird." Smiling, he added, "For you I will always spare a moment." He motioned to a cushioned seat on the other side of the table at which he sat, and she came in and seated herself. "I'd wondered where this little fellow had come from."
"He followed me in. I'm sorry – I did not think to leave him outside."
"Well," Elrond considered, rubbing the fox's ears, "I suppose it is alright, this time." Neither spoke for a long while. Finally, he closed his book and turned his attention to her. "So, Ever Child, why have you sought me out, as if I could not guess?"
Wren shifted uncomfortably. "Will you tell me how the council turned out, Master Elrond?" The candle guttered as a breath of air ghosted through the room, and the light flickered across her face. She looked so young… "Did everything go as you had hoped?"
Though he had expected this, the Elven Lord still regarded her steadily, and was careful with the words he chose. "Some did, yes. Others…" He sighed. "Glorfindel told me about your vision, Wren. Eight companions were chosen to follow the Ring-Bearer into Mordor."
"Frodo will continue to carry the ring?" she questioned, shuddering at the name of the Dark Land.
"Yes. It is a heavy burden for one so small, but Gandalf's faith in him does not waver."
"And his companions – who will travel with him?"
"Gandalf will go, of course, and Aragorn; for they are the best guardians he could have, and this quest concerns them closely. Samwise will go, as well – he refuses to be separated from his master. The other five are representatives from each of the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth: Elves, Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits."
"The Hobbits are Merry and Pippin, of course," Wren said, smiling sadly. "I cannot see either suffering himself to be left behind. It is a shame; they are both very young."
"Yes, but Gandalf seems to think that friendship and loyalty will be worth more than strength in this battle, so they are wise choices."
"And the others?"
"The Man is Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor. Most of his route home will follow the same path as those going to the Dark Land, so his presence in the fellowship is convenient. Furthermore, he will have a greater understanding of what they will be fighting against, and can rally his people accordingly." He leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. Refsil had curled into a ball on his lap and ceased to beg for scratching. "Gimli son of Glóin will represent the Dwarves. I had hoped to send his father, for he is generous and wise, for a Dwarf. However, Gimli has the youthful stamina Glóin now lacks. I only hope he has also learned some of his father's wisdom." Elrond paused.
"That is seven. Who is the Elf?"
"The Elven representative will be Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."
Wren stared at him in shock. "Legolas?! But…why?"
"Gandalf and I have had high hopes for him for many centuries," Elrond replied with a frown, misreading her reaction. "He is still young among our people, but has tasted war before. I could have chosen one older and more powerful, like Glorfindel – though he has seen too much war and would not go even if asked, I think – or more well known and respected, like my sons…"
"Their part will come later," Wren interjected vaguely.
He stared at her. "Yes… But Legolas is not so ill a choice. As I said, in this company, power will not play a key role. His skill with the bow surpasses even my sons', true, but he is also more open-minded than most, despite being Thranduil's son. As a Dwarf is traveling with them, that will be essential."
"I do not think he is a bad choice, my Lord, I am merely…surprised." She shook her head, trying to clear a space to think. "He came here only to deliver a message and seek aid – surely he did not expect to be sent to…to Mordor of all places!"
"None who came here expected this, save perhaps Aragorn and Gandalf," he said, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. "Yet it must be done. I wish I could say otherwise."
Wren did not reply. She knew not how to explain her unwillingness to see Legolas travel with the company – not without sounding like a silly child – so she held her tongue on the matter. "When will they depart?"
Elrond sensed what was coming and watched her warily. "Before the turn of the year, they will start south."
"They will have to fight winter."
"It is unfortunate, but yes."
Unable to be still any longer, Wren stood and began to pace around the room, gazing a the contents of the shelves as she tried to contain her anxiety – books, wrought figures, glass phials, and other small treasures. An ornate circlet forged of mithril caught her eye, and she picked it up, turning it in restless hands. "There is one more thing I must ask of you, my Lord."
"You know how I will answer, Little Bird." His voice was weary.
"Still, I must ask."
"Ask then."
She drew a deep breath. "Let me go with the fellowship, if only as far as Lothlórien and Caras Galadhon."
"I cannot let you do that," Elrond said patiently, as if speaking to a little child. "You would not be safe outside of Rivendell."
"Don't patronize me!" she snapped. A little wildly, she gestured in the direction of the rest of the house. "Nor will they! No one is entirely safe outside of the Elven kingdoms in these times." She realized she was clutching the circlet rather desperately, and slowly uncurled her fingers, one by one, and set it back on the shelf.
"None of the others are fighting visions. I have seen you in the wake of your Sight – you are as helpless as a hatchling! Nor are any of them torn within their own minds."
"If I stay here, their quest will fail." Her voice was blunt, and she stared at her foster father, daring him to challenge what she knew.
Yet challenge her he did. "That is very presumptuous, Wren."
"Perhaps, but have you ever been given a reason to doubt what I know?" Pacing across the room, she leaned on the back of her chair. "You have Seen how it will end if they fail, Elrond. So have I."
The Elf was taken aback. "Why did you say nothing of this before?"
She came around the chair and sat down again, breathing a deep sigh. "A few months ago, I began to realize how much of what I have Seen my mind was unconsciously repressing, and I started trying to unlock my memory. It is not pretty."
"No." He shuddered, and Refsil, who had lain quietly until then, sat up and whined, questioning. "Peace, little brother." Gently, he set the cub back down on the floor. "What will happen to your visions if you go with them? We never See our own futures clearly, but traveling together, that which affects them will affect you. You would not See it."
"I have already Seen enough to know that without help, they will fail."
"But do you know when to provide that help? If you stay here, away from them, you will still be able to See their fate, and help can be sent." He wanted to weep for her. He knew what it was like to foresee such pain and suffering, and still be completely helpless to prevent it.
Frustrated, Wren shook her head. "There would not be time! I would already be there – do you think I would not recognize in reality what I have Seen?"
" I know you would," he answered, rising.
"Then why –"
Elrond moved to stand behind her chair and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. "You have grown to understand a great deal about your gift, Child, but you have yet to face the hardest lesson it can teach."
"How can it be any worse?" Wren moaned, looking up at him. Refsil sensed her distress and leaped up into her lap. She pulled him close, petting him fiercely.
"We cannot always change what we See, my dear, but perhaps the most puzzling aspect of such gifts, is that what you See will not always happen as you See it." He came around and crouched beside the chair, looking up at her. "What you See today may be affected by the events of tomorrow and may never occur at all, or not how you expect. Sometimes, the harder we try to change what we See, the more likely things are to turn out badly."
"How was I to learn this?" she asked, resentful. "I have never had the opportunity to try to change things. You never let me leave this valley!" Wren did not want to be angry with him – she truly didn't – but it was so frustrating…
The Elven lord stood and walked over to a tall window. "Soon we will all leave Imladris," he said, staring up at the darkened sky. When she heard the regret in his voice, all anger drained out of her. Looking back at her, he added, "When this is over…"
"The Havens. But…I cannot leave Middle-Earth without seeing it, Elrond."
For a long while he said nothing, and the candles, by now, were burning low. "You truly have no desire to pass West, to see the Undying Lands?"
"I think…" She considered her answer carefully. "Eventually I will want to go, and Arwen…" She swallowed, sorry she had mentioned his daughter, who would never see Valinor. "She wants me to…to seek out Celebrían, and… Oh! Elrond, you and she are the only parents I have had for so long!" A single tear slid down a silken cheek, and she dashed it away.
Turning back to the room, Elrond remembered the circlet Wren had picked up earlier. He gently took it into his hands, and came back toward the table. "When Galdenë told me he was going to bring you here, I was glad. With no children of our own as yet, it seemed an opportunity for Celebrían and I to learn…but then he went back for Lyrah, and they were ambushed…" He set the mithril circlet gently on her head. "And suddenly, it was no longer a time to learn. Though not ours by birth, we had a daughter. As you had been raised among Men, we were at a bit of a loss what to do with you, at first." He smiled wryly. "Erestor proved to be more than a counselor, in those days. You would get so frustrated with him! But without him…we would have been lost, raising a child who did not understand Elves."
Wren raised a hand to the circlet, bewildered. "He could be so dull, sometimes, in his teaching, but… I feared him, I suppose – and not him alone! Oh, no! Never have I met a people more innocently curious than the Elves, and I did not understand why they should find me so fascinating. It was terrifying – I was only seventeen, thrown into the midst of those for whom two thousand is considered young." Again she touched the metal on her brow. "Wha-"
Elrond stopped her question with a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I have wondered often what you are to me, Child, for while you are not mine, yet often have I seen you as a daughter. Better, perhaps, to call you a beloved niece. Though, sometimes, you are more of a little sister to my heart!" He gently took her shoulders in his hands, holding her eyes with his own. "Even as Galdenë's daughter, you are still distantly of my blood, and the blood of Númenor is in you, also. You are a Lady of this House, Wren. As you are no longer hiding from Elves or Men, it is time and past they recognized you as such."
Entirely taken aback, Wren could not think of what to say. "Th-thank you," she managed at last. "But, I still-"
"When this is over, if Aragorn lives, Arwen will travel to Gondor. You will be in the company that goes with her, if you wish. You will see some of Middle-Earth before the ships depart for Valinor."
"I cannot repay you, my Lord," she demurred, bowing her head.
The Elven lord smiled. "You already have, Little Bird. Many times over. Now, I must go, and find some rest. These past days…" He shook his head. "I trust you will heed what I said before, about your visions." Wren set the fox cub back on the floor and stood as he started towards the door. "I know it is hard for you, but…"
"Go and rest, Master Elrond," she replied. "Do not trouble yourself about me."
He nodded, and quit the study, heading for the sanctuary of his own rooms. Wren remained motionless until she could no longer hear his footprints, then reached up and removed the mithril circlet from her head. Refsil watched her curiously. "Forgive me, my Lord, but I cannot yet accept this gift in full. Someday I will stand as a Lady among the Elves – but not within the walls of this valley. Not until I have done what I must do." She sighed. "Maybe I cannot help the fellowship if I travel with them, but I can still do something. It was never my wish to defy you. Alas! For now I have no choice…" Wren took the circlet with her when she at last sought out her rooms, knowing full well that she would have to accept it, for now, so as not to arouse the suspicion that she had not yet abandoned all hope.