Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's ideas, characters, etc…
They were only over the hill, Rilarien assured herself, forcing her chubby legs to go faster. Darkness clouded the sky, menacing bolts of lightning flashed in the distance. A wind had begun to pick up. The various grasses stirred, moving like a gossamer gown delicately draped around a dancing figure. A spark of longing ignited in the little girl. Deep in her mind she imagined the spray of salty water and crashing waves, but the imagery was shattered as she fell hard on her hands and knees.
On all fours she crawled up the remainder of the hill, tentatively peeking over, expecting to see her mother and father wrapped in a fond embrace while ambling toward their daughter. But the horror that meet her young eyes was something she did not expect to see.
The dancing blades of grass waved their scarlet stained tips at the girl, trying to paint the sky above them with the atrocious vividness. Cries filled with anguish, wrenched deep from the very nadir of their beings, caressed Rilarien's tender ears with stinging cruelty. Like hot tongues of fire, the very noise flicked in and out of her, carving the hellish din deep into her memory. The little girl's eyes widened as she took in the contrast of once placid green against startling red. As if by motherly instinct, Tindómëwen looked up, locking eyes with her child. Rilarien was shocked to see their usual calm depths tortured and tumultuous.
The blue eyes blinked and grew wide. A long slow shudder vibrated through the elf as the last blow was given, then the eyes suddenly stopped their frantic searching, growing misty and cold.
"Atara *mother*." The little elf whispered.
An orc raised his eyes to the slight disturbance.
"Atar*father*!" Rilarien screamed as the creature started toward her, but she receive no answer.
***
Rilarien groaned and reached up to touch the back of her head. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she strained to open her eyes.
"Feeling better?" A quiet voice asked her, and the sickening memories came back. Her eyes snapped open, and she glared at Boromir. Pushing him away, Rilarien tried to stand. As gently as he could, he set her down on her feet. She hadn't been heavy; not a burden for the solid man, but Boromir could feel the void she left in his arms. Rilarien staggered away from him, slightly disorientated, and searched her waist for her sword. "You lost it back there. Pity, it was a beautiful piece of weaponry." She looked up at him, taken aback by his presence.
"You brought those orcs to Lorien." The icy conviction was out of Rilarien's mouth before she could stop it. Her cheeks paled. Never before had she dared to accuse someone of an awful deed.
Boromir chuckled and reached out to steady her as she stumbled backwards away from him. "On the contrary, my lady, I had nothing to do with those creatures. I am bound for Rivendell and stopped only to refresh myself at the stream that you and your friend also occupied."
Rilarien jerked away from his touch, but she did her best to conceal the pain that was traveling through her body. Sticking her chin defiantly in the air, Rien stood her ground, "Convenient resting place for a questionable character. Imladris is many leagues from here."
Boromir erupted with laughter, "'Questionable character' you say? Well, my lady, I am the least of your worries if you believe that. Apparently you have not ventured past the borders of your safe haven to have experience the real 'questionable characters' that roam this land. And yes, I know that Rivendell is far from here, and I will risk venturing through the mountains to obtain my destination, but this side journey, if you must know, was unavoidable. I was pursued to these borders, and was very grateful the refreshment of the waters."
Rilarien opened her mouth the protest, but a voice from behind her cut her off: "Rilarien! Tula sinome *come here*!"
Turning, Rilarien scanned the forest, searching, until she spotted him. "Erndil!" She called back, waving her arm up in the air. A broad smile claimed her face, and she rushed forward to meet him.
The light-haired elf pulled her into a fast embrace. A confused look flitted across her face as she felt his arms tighten securely, almost possessively, around her. He held her close, relieved that he found her, before holding her out at arms length, "Rilarien, en amin. Mani marte? *Look at me. What happened?*" His light blue eyes were clouded with concern. Rilarien smiled at him, touched at the emotion that flitted across his face.
"She's fine. Just a slight fall and a small bump on the head. Your lady elf is very much alive and well." Boromir interjected. He was surrounded by several elves, and his hands were raised partially in the air. The rest of the group continued to the edge of the forest.
Erndil's face turned to stone as he eyed the intruder. The stranger was tall with a face that was both fair and noble. Dark hair was shorn about his shoulders, the gray eyes placid, but he was proud and unyielding in the way he observed the surrounding territory. His clothing was noble, but stained with the weathering of travel. Placing himself between Rilarien and the trespasser, Erndil sized up the stranger, and found himself smirking, "By your dress and nature you must be from the south."
"Gondor. My name is Boromir, son of Steward Denethor." Boromir noted Rilarien peeking over Erndil's shoulder, her eyes wide with curiosity overshadowed by caution. But there was something else there. He watched as she also evaluated his appearance. Inwardly he sneered. Boromir was not a dense man. He saw how Erndil had situated himself between the girl and him, and how she discreetly peered around the tall barrier, still curious in nature.
The blonde elf spoke, his face stoic. He hated the words that passed his lips, but the Lady of the Wood had given specific instructions, "I'm sure your journey has been a long and difficult ride. Please consider the trees of Lorien a temporary resting place for the night. The trees of Calas Galadhon will offer you sanctuary and solitude."
Boromir was surprised by the generous offer and was greatly amused by the astonished look that passed over Rilarien's face. "I am in debt to your generosity, but I must insure the safety of my mount." Feeling in a mischievous mood, Boromir decided to press his fortune, "My lady," he bowed, "Would you do me the honor of escorting me back to Calas Galadhon after I have fetched my horse from wandering in the plains land?"
Bright red splotches broke out on her cheeks, like that of a full-blown rose. She tried to reply, but Erndil quickly cut her off. "I am afraid that she must accompany me back to Lorien. Her family awaits news of her, and any detour would only increase their concern with the passing time. However, Nurrantion here would be more than willing to help you maneuver your way back to the trees of Lorien." Boromir thanked Erndil, and a silent escort clad in muted tones and armed with a bow stepped forward. Boromir watched with curiosity as Erndil took Rilarien's arm and led her back to Lorien. She submissively followed, much like a trained dog on a leash, but she cast a glance back at him, giving him a timid, but cautious smile.
***
Once they were out of sight of the intruder, Erndil stopped, motioning to his companions to proceed forward. With raised eyebrows, they did so.
Still holding Rilarien's arm, Erndil leaned forward, peering down into her face. He knew her. They had grown up together. Something was stirring behind the innocent façade of her drawn face. There was a flicker, a slight movement like a gentle swell on the ocean, in her gray eyes.
Recoiling slightly from the intense inspection, Rilarien forced the breath from her lungs. "What?" she questioned. The grip on her arm was growing tighter with each passing moment. Erndil did not realize his actions until Rilarien's face contoured with pain.
"You have changed." He growled. His once laughing lips were drawn into a thin line, his blue eyes were hard and cold, and he drew himself up to tower over Rilarien.
"I have not." The denial was quick and sharp. She returned his glare for but a moment before shoving him and taking off laughing through the woods. Her feet were light, but Erndil was faster. As she looked over her shoulder to see if he was in pursuit, but the woods were void behind her. Slightly baffled she ran forward, only to be caught by Erndil. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground in a swirl of skirts and peals of laughter, and for a moment a light smile curled his lips upward, but it quickly faded. The stoic face confronted her as he backed her against a tree.
Even his voice had grown hard, "You're hiding something."
"And if I am?" Rilarien teased, but her friend remained quiet.
He leaned down, she could feel his breath on her face, it was warm like the summer breeze, "I will find it out." He hesitated. Rilarien's blood ran cold. He was not the elf she knew him to be. With smooth deliberate movements, Erndil gently kissed Rilarien's forehead before turning and beckoning her to follow him to Calas Galadhon.
Shaken, she followed at a distance, pondering the happenings.
***
Lómpalan was the first to grab hold of Rilarien and not let go. The younger girl shook with silent sobs, but her pretty dark eyes were dry when she pulled away. "What happened Rien?" she questioned, but Rilarien could only shrug. She couldn't remember, or if she did, she couldn't find the words to describe what went on.
By the coming of evening, all the trees in Lorien bore drooping leaves. No wind dared to stir them, and even when Rilarien wandered once again among them they remained the same. The brightness of day had passed, and the trees began to moan and creak at the close of day. Rilarien pressed her palm against rough bark, but the tingling feeling she had receive that afternoon didn't return. Silent tears fell down her cheeks, blotching the burgundy of her dress as she sat at the foot of her favorite tree. A chill settled in the land. In a way she was ready to leave for Imladris.
Imladris, the place of her birth and the resting place of her mother and father. Daedhel was kind to take in his only niece after the sudden passing of his sister and brother-in-law. He had given Rilarien the very same treatment as his own daughter, and she was grateful for his kindness. She wasn't raised with the foreboding feeling that she was an outcast in her own home, but with the ever-present reality that she was accepted as part of the family. Nonetheless, Rilarien felt set apart from her cousin, different from the elves of Lorien. Lómpalan was please to have Rilarien as a cousin, and a surrogate sister, and Lorien proved to be a place of endless wanderings and timeless memories. Childhood hadn't been easy for the orphaned elf, but it hadn't been hard either. Mischief usually flowed freely with Rilarien, and she spent most of her childhood dragging her cousin on endless adventures, battling imaginary enemies and running free. And now she was returning to Imladris to be inducted into the ranks of adulthood. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the tree as her uncle's words came pouring back into her mind.
Daedhel was quick to corner his niece after Lómpalan left her alone. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. Instead of bowing, Rilarien dropped into a quick curtsy. She could see the anger, impatience, and worry in his eyes. "Niece," Daedhel began. His voice trembled a little when he started, but quickly grew into the steady, powerful voice Rilarien was used to. "For many years you have been dodging direct commands and seeking out trouble. Your obedience is shaky at best. And I for one am upset at the fact that you had to bring your cousin along for this little trip into the forest. I know you are fascinated with the world beyond the boundaries of Lorien." A remembering smile claimed his face, "Your mother also had the same fascination, and she also pushed the limits of the boundaries given to her. But unlike your mother, you have no control over your actions Rien." He turned to face her, surprised to find her standing quietly, head bowed, hands clasped before her. "You scared me today, Rilarien." She looked up at him as tears rimmed her eyes. Daedhel found himself taken aback. She was the mirror image of his sister. Tindómëwen had been more than a simple sibling for Daedhel; she had been a friend, a silent support in times of trouble, but a barrier of strong resistance when crossed. He found himself regretting the words that had been exchanged on their last meeting. Here before him was his sister's daughter, and she possessed the same characteristic; he knew he had to tread carefully. Daedhel continued, "I thought I was going to loose the last physical link to my beloved sister, your mother. I am upset that you would deliberately disobey me, but I was also concerned about your safety."
Her chin quivered but rose as she confronted her uncle, "I understand your worry. I did not mean to place myself, and especially not Lómpalan, in any sort of danger. We were…we were having fun, uncle." She paused to find the courage to go on, "These past few years, I have never disobeyed you or any member of the council. I have lived my life like you instructed me, and every day I found myself closer and closer to being bound by your words. I respect you uncle. I am thankful that you found it in your heart to take in an orphan. I love you and Lómpalan like my own father and sister." The tears continued to fall, but Rilarien's voice grew stronger, "But you cannot, uncle…you cannot tell me how to live. You have placed me in a box, and I am not content to reside there for the rest of my life."
"But you must!" Daedhel cut in. His voice rose slightly, but dropped back to its normal soothing volume, "When we travel to Imladris, and you and your cousin recite the coming-of-age rite you will have to live under the boundaries that Lord Elrond will give to you. You will be a lady in his court. Galadriel and Celeborn have been lenient, to say the least, with you. Rilarien, I see you as my daughter, and I'm worried about you."
Nodding her head slightly Rilarien interrupted, "I know that I have been…trying at times, but I have gotten better. I will fit into that box, the one that our society has carved for me, but now is not that time. I have a few more days of freedom before I have to fully become an adult, and by that time I will be ready to take on my responsibilities in Lord Elrond's court, uncle. I have never disappointed you to that extent, and I never intend to."
The muscles in Daedhel's jaw were working furiously. Pointing his finger at her then at himself he said curtly, "You live the life I tell you, and that means now Rilarien. Enough of the childishness, I expect you to be the lady your mother always wanted you to be." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Anger flashed in Rien's eyes as she eased her door shut. Leaning her head back against the solidness of the wood she spoke to the empty room, "I will not be told how to live my life."
The memory hung like a darkened shadow over her head as Rilarien pondered the coming of age ceremony, and inwardly questioned her abilities. She didn't understand why it was necessary that they return to Rivendell, but she knew better than to question the ways of the council or her uncle. The walk back to Lorien was lingering. She knew even without being told that she would not be returning with her uncle and cousin. Imladris was the place of her birth, the resting place of her parents, and a member of the court would take her in until she was married or otherwise taken care of. It was not a pleasant thought but she took comfort in knowing that the journey would take several days, and in that time period she would still be able to frolic, but this time under the watchful eyes of her uncle and several others that would be accompanying them.
Her mind was occupied with other things, and Rilarien jumped slightly when Boromir tapped her on the shoulder. He bowed slightly and presented her sword, the blade held tenderly in his gloved hands and the jeweled hilt thrust towards her. She accepted the item, and placed it back in its sheath. He noted that she was still clad in the same garments, but was more composed and quiet. An aura of sadness encased her, and her gray eyes were paler then before.
"I would have given it to you earlier," Boromir began, "But it seemed that your body guard wouldn't let me within several feet of you."
Rilarien tilted her head in question, but smiled when she realized that he was talking about Erndil. "That's just Erndil. We have been friends since my childhood. He is a bit over protective, but a solid friend in times of trouble."
"He seemed more than a friend to me."
The elf politely stepped back from Boromir, her face stoic. "If you'll excuse me sir, my family awaits."
Boromir stepped in her path as she tried to pass him, "Ah yes, the same family that would have died waiting if you would have accompanied me back to the edge of the forest. My lady, if you do not mind me say so, but you do not seem like one who is compliant by nature. Why did you pick that moment to follow Lord Erndil?"
"I, sir…" Rilarien started.
"Boromir."
"Son of Steward Denethor. Yes I know. You're also Captain of the armies of Gondor. You are known, sir, and I do not have to answer to you. I answer to my uncle at this time, and when I travel to Imladris, I will answer to whom ever I am assigned to." Her expression was sad. Boromir started to speak, but Rilarien raised her hand to cut him off, "You live in a land that has different customs, rituals, than that of the elves, and you could not fully understand the inner happenings of my people. There are times that I act by conscience, that I do things by my own accord, but I still must respect my elders, and, despite the fact that he is my friend, Erndil is my elder. He took me out of a situation that he believed to be harmful, and who was I to argue with one who possesses more wisdom than myself? I thank you for the return of my sword. Tis… tis special to me." A small smile teased the corners of her mouth as her fingers caressed the silver hilt, but disappeared as she looked up at him. "But by all means, this does not mean I am in your debt. If you'll excuse me…" She brushed past him, but he caught her arm.
Boromir wasn't one to remain silent, "I saved your life, Lady. You owe me more than you know."
Rilarien stared at Boromir for a long second, searching his face for a chink in his armor. Not finding a strain of compassion, she gently wrenched her arm from his grasp, and walked silently away. He watched her melt quietly into the night, before he cast his eyes up to the stars, which were partially hidden by the foliage. The branches seemed to bend down towards him as if they were reaching out. A chill crept up his spine, and Boromir hurried back to the safety of Lorien's mellyrn.
___________
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