-THE GAMES OF THE GODS-
-Disclaimer:-
CS: I don't own any of the characters or places except Rachel and Kari.
Kari: Ooo, you do remember me!
CS: 'Course I remember you. Just because I haven't mentioned you in a few chapters, and you haven't been in even more chapters, doesn't mean I've forgotten about you. What makes you think I would forget about you?
Kari: You forget what you had for breakfast by supertime the same day. Why should I NOT assume that not mentioning me for a few chapters would cause you to forget me?
CS: ...
Kari: *smirk*
-18: Trouble-
After that visit, during which Gandalf stayed only a few days, and spoke to me no more, Gandalf became a regular at the Prancing Pony. I had decided once again to bank on close proximity with the Dúnedain to allow me to stay somewhat longer in Bree, so I spent 50 years there, and Gandalf and I came to be friends of a sort, though it was based on the understanding that he not probe into my past. I think it frustrated him, actually, to for once not know the entire story behind someone, and was the reason that when I informed him I was leaving Bree, he actually asked me to stay, or perhaps accompany him on his travels. I refused both requests, though I told him to look for me in the south if he ever wanted to find me again. His reply was a curt 'the south is a very big place', and that was the last time we spoke for many years.
I was very much aware, of course, that the War of the Ring was drawing near, and it was about time I figure out where I wanted to be when it happened. I had long ago determined that I was NOT going to live through the War of the Ring without seeing the Fellowship at least once, and preferably Boromir before he set out for his doomed trip to Rivendell, as well. So as I rode on my horse - bought from the Liltalen Ranch with money no one in Bree had thought I had (I'd collected a rather large sum of money over the years) - I considered where to go. I knew that where I decided to be for the War of the Ring, I would go to another kingdom entirely for one lifetime or so before finding my way to where I wanted to be and settling in. There was still 209 years until the forming of the Fellowship, after all.
Eventually, I decided that since, sooner or later, EVERY major player in the War of the Ring passed through Minas Tirith, I would park myself there for the War of the Ring. It would also give me the opportunity to at least see Imrahil of Dol Amroth - someone I'd always been curious about - along with Thorongil - aka, Aragorn. And I would get to speak with Gandalf again.
This decision that I would head to Rohan for a hundred years or so. Rifling around in my memory, I decided that I would leave Rohan and head for Gondor the same year Bilbo was born - 2890. Which left me 81 years to do as I wished in Rohan.
Once my destination was decided, I reached Rohan quite quickly, and - surprisingly - without any trouble from Orcs. I had a feeling that damn Mary-Sue Factor, which had been quiet for far too long, was acting up again. After all, what use was there in me being attacked by Orcs if there was no hero around to rescue me? Unless it wanted to create the in-the-past Orc-rape plot twist. Eurgh. I shuddered at the idea.
I set myself up quite easily in a small town on the borders of Rohan, pretending to be a humble refugee from the north, and set about having a cheerful life back with the people I found so easy to like and relate to. After 40 years, though, I left the town on the pretense of trying to return to the north and find my family, and I made for Meduseld. Once again, I somehow managed to get work in the stables, much to my amusement. It was quite interesting to be poking around the stables and see all the changes, much as it had been interesting to poke around Bree after my 550-some year absence.
Eventually, however, the year 2890 rolled around, and I respectfully informed the Stablemaster that I had received word from family in Bree that I was needed. With a gift of one of the better horses from the stables, I then skedaddled my way west to Minas Tirith. I set my horse free upon arriving in Minas Tirith, not wanting to be recognized from my horse - entirely possible, since Rohan and Gondor still had a fairly close relationship at this point, and I was well-known among those of the Rohirrim inclined to travels. Bad side effect of working in stables.
In Minas Tirith once again, I decided this time to start at the lowest ring of the city, and then go up as high as I could for the War of the Ring. So I got a job in a tavern of the 7th ring of the city - though I really didn't need a job now, with all the money I'd collected over close to 800 years. It's really amazing how much money you can hoard when you don't have to stop working at a certain age or spend the money on taking care of a family. Anyways. I stayed in the 7th ring for 38 years, and then moved up to the 4th ring.
Around this time, things were starting to get nasty in Middle-Earth, the war with Sauron was really picking up. I heard bits and pieces of the news as I worked in a small herb shop, but most of my knowledge of the goings-on of the world came from what I remembered from the Lord of the Rings appendixes, which now seemed such a long ways in my past - though remarkably clear.
I threw a little party for myself on Aragorn's birthday - March 1st, 2931 - and a larger party for most of the people I knew on New Years of 2941/2942, the years Bilbo had his adventure. It made people think I was slightly touched in the head, since I couldn't tell them why I was throwing the parties, but hey, it was fun to do.
It was, however, eventually time for me to go on again, and I knew that my next little change of identity would be the last before the War of the Ring. People were getting too suspicious of strangers, and I was getting too impatient. So, in summer of the same year Frodo was born - 2968 - I 'left' for Dol Amroth and the supposed safety that was there. I left most of my belongings behind, so I had no extra baggage, and then I headed up through the circles of the city, until at last, the guards to the 2nd ring of the city denied me entrance.
I wandered through the streets until I found a dress makers, bought myself a newer, shinier, more expensive dress, chucked my old dress, chucked my headscarf/bandana altogether and did my hair in a way that hid my ear tips, and made for the gates once more. I was admitted without question, all the way up to the palace, where I was able to find a job as Asira, a little-known lady from the north of Gondor, and now lady-in-waiting to some court lady or another. Really, the security in Minas Tirith was horrid - any woman with a pretty face could go just about anywhere as long as they looked the part. It was a good thing Sauron and Saruman never thought of using women as spies or soldiers, because if they had, the War of the Ring would have ended rather quickly in the favour of the bad guys.
Anyways. I settled in as a lady-in-waiting, and though I was horridly bored, I did get news. I also managed to meet 'Thorongil' once or twice, and though I couldn't have any sort of serious conversation with him without giving myself away, I decided that from what I'd seen he was definitely a cool guy, and would make an excellent king. My lady found Gandalf scary, however, so I was unable to speak with him the few times he came to the City. Imrahil was also absent, but as he'd only been born 13 years before I came into my ladies service, it was no surprise that he didn't visit.
As a lady-in-waiting, I also learned how to talk prim and proper, much to my chagrin. I was quite enjoying myself, though, despite all the embroidery and frippery that went on. At least, I enjoyed myself until suddenly, eight years after I came to the palace and became a lady-in-waiting, the lady I was the lady-in-waiting TO (confusing, isn't it?) got sick and died. I was still in shock somewhat from that when I received word that I was to become a lady-in-waiting to the Lady Finduilas, recently arrived from Dol Amroth...and new wife to Denethor, the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor.
The night after I found out about my new mistress, I was no where to be found in the palace. Indeed, I was down in the 6th ring of the city, in the trashiest clothes I could find, getting rip-roaring drunk. I was cursing worst than most of the men in the 7th ring, and I'm pretty sure I got kicked out of at least 4 taverns for rowdy behavior. I was drowning my anger at the Mary-Sue Factor, of course. I knew, without a doubt, that the Mary-Sue Factor was responsible for the timely death of my old mistress, and my new assignment. Whether the Mary-Sue Factor had caused my mistress to actually die, or just stuck me with a lady that was doomed to die, I didn't know - and didn't care.
I was back in the palace the next day, however, calm and cool, showing no signs of my night of drinking due to my Elvish constitution. I was still angry, however, and for the better part of the year, I bonded with none of the members of the new circle of ladies-in-waiting that I found myself in. I think Finduilas was just starting to become worried about me when I suddenly woke up one day and decided that this was shit, and let my anger at the Mary-Sue Factor go. It was just one of those moments when you realize that something you've been worrying about really just isn't worth it. I could do nothing about the Mary-Sue Factor - or at least, didn't want to at this point - so I decided to just ignore it.
I did, however, swear to myself that all admiration (at least in the body aspect) of males recognizable from the 'Lord of the Rings' books would be internal only - in other words, I effectively swore of all the hot men of Middle-Earth. That made me depressed in an entirely different way, but I knew it would effectively keep the Mary-Sue Factor in check.
My recovery was well timed, anyways, as not long afterwards, it was discovered that Finduilas was pregnant. I smiled when I heard the news, realizing that I would more than get my wish to see Boromir before he went to Rivendell and ended out becoming a water-logged pin cushion.
Before I go any further, I should say that I've never wanted children. They've always seemed to annoy the heck out of me, not to mention that I don't feel particularly inclined to put myself through the pain and trouble of pregnancy and labour. But for some reason, when a kid isn't yours, and you watch them from birth, through their childhood, until they grow up, they don't seem so annoying.
I don't know, maybe Boromir - and later, Faramir - just tried particularly hard not to piss me off. I was, by far, the loosest and least prim and proper of all of Finduilas' ladies-in-waiting, and Boromir and Faramir seemed to sense that, gravitating towards me like flies to honey. It might have also had something to do with the fact that I was the youngest looking of all the ladies-in-waiting, but somehow I doubt it.
So, since Boromir and Faramir were already gravitating towards me, I took the opportunity to try and smooth things over between the brothers, especially once Denethor started playing favorites and spoiling Boromir. I also pounded into Boromir's head every chance I got that shields were important. I knew better then to actually get involved and change the future, but I would try to do what I could, dammit. After all, if Boromir carried his shield when he went after Frodo, he'd have it when he was trying to save Merry and Pippin, and shields are really very handy in blocking arrows.
Yes, it was a feeble excuse, but there are some opportunities I can't let slip past. Heck, if I had been in Rivendell around the time Celebrían was going to come back from Lothlorien and get attacked by Orcs, I probably would have tried to change that. Anyways.
Imrahil finally made his first appearance in Minas Tirith (Denethor and Finduilas' wedding had been in Dol Amroth, and my lady unable to attend) in 2980, when he was 25 - and still an eligible bachelor. Finduilas was immediately swarmed with all sorts of new 'friends', trying to get to her brother through her. Disgusted over this behavior, I requested - and was granted - permission to watch over 2-year-old Boromir for the duration of Imrahil's visit.
This led to me being one of the lucky few who actually got to meet and talk to Imrahil when he wasn't sporting his 'court face', as Finduilas called it. The Prince of Dol Amroth was actually a rather funny guy - and damn attractive. If I hadn't sworn off book recognizable males...well, I suppose it's a good thing I had, because Finduilas commented after my first meeting with Imrahil (she'd brought him to see Boromir) that she was glad I hadn't showed an interest in him. She needed a partner. And so I found myself one half of a duo that spent its time helping Imrahil get away from court ladies.
Imrahil and I actually became rather good friends during that visit, especially after I helped him sneak out of the Citadel one night to a tavern in the sixth ring of the city. As many of Imrahil's escort also frequented this same tavern, this earned me the Swan Knight Stamp of Approval. I was almost as sad to see Imrahil leave as Finduilas, in the end, and was right there on the palace steps waiting for him when he returned for a visit shortly after Faramir was born.
After Finduilas died, however, Imrahil did not visit Minas Tirith again. Faramir and Boromir were free to visit him in Dol Amroth, as was I, but I was forced to politely refuse all invitations and remain in Minas Tirith. I didn't know, and wasn't sure I wanted to find out, what effect the sea would have on me now that I was an elf.
Gandalf had, of course, shown up in Minas Tirith during this time, but our old understanding about him not nosing into my past was gone, and I soon took to avoiding him. This, in turn, put me in Denethor's good books, as he liked Saruman more than Gandalf.
Anyways, moving on - Finduilas died in 2988, when Faramir was 5, and Boromir 10. Denethor and I between us comforted the two boys, but it soon turned into me comforting all three males of that family, as Denethor succumbed to his own grief after trying to hold it in for too long. The ladies-in-waiting, no surprise, were no help to me, as they found it absolutely scandalous that I would comfort the Steward. They seemed to have this strange idea that the two boys and their father needed to get past this on their own, otherwise they wouldn't be or become men. Which was complete shit. They needed to work through it themselves, yes, and I couldn't help them with that. But I could be there as a soothing presence when their tears broke loose.
In the end, I'm pretty sure it was my willingness to comfort the Steward and his sons that inevitably led to my staying in the palace, just as much as it led to the strange tend of the ladies in the palace to not want me to be their lady-in-waiting. I probably wouldn't have wanted to work for any of them, anyways. Whatever the reason, I soon found myself as the ONLY female in the personal employ of Denethor and sons.
I think my official title was tutor, but I can't remember ever teaching either Boromir or Faramir anything, other than how to get out of lessons and act innocent. I overheard a Lady commenting once that I was like a surrogate mother to the boys, but I heartily disagree - I had none of the responsibility or concern of a mother. If anything, I was the sister that they didn't have, and that couldn't get in trouble.
Whatever I was to the boys, I enjoyed my time in Minas Tirith with them a great deal. I'm afraid I doted somewhat on Boromir during the last few years before the War of the Ring, but I rationalized it with the fact that he wouldn't be around much longer. It could also have been due to the Mary-Sue Factor, since the events it spawned took me right where I didn't want to go, and where, I realized later, the Mary-Sue Factor was always trying to get me back to.
I was wandering through some of the deserted upper corridors of Minas Tirith in late June of 3018, trying to remember some of the more precise dates about the War of the Ring, when the events began. Boromir had recently returned from Osgiliath, and had seemed somewhat troubled, so I really wasn't all that surprised when he suddenly appeared beside me, falling into step and just walking with me for awhile, his expression thoughtful. As we walked, I mused about what his reaction would be if he knew he was walking beside someone who was trying to remember the dates for when the coming War would turn out as it did. Just as I decided it would probably be shock, followed by curiosity, and then righteous anger when I refused to tell him what would happen, Boromir finally spoke up.
"Asira, do you remember how you once told me that dreams were not always simple images the sleeping mind creates, but messages, either from your own mind, or a higher power?" he asked. I smiled softly. Ah yes, I remembered that piece of advice...I'd given it a good 20 years ago, when Boromir had complained about having strange dreams involving armies of Oliphants and blood-red sunrises. Shortly after, the first Oliphants had been spotted traveling from the south, into Mordor, effectively proving my point.
"Yes, I remember." I said.
"Did...do you, perhaps, know how to tell the difference between the meaningless dreams, and the ones that are telling you something?" Boromir asked with a light frown. I arched an eyebrow and looked at him, suddenly recalling why Boromir had shown up in Rivendell in time for the Council, and knowing where this line of questioning was going.
"Me? No, not really. Usually you should just be able to tell yourself. Dreams that mean something - or are just severely disturbing - will just stick with you." I replied vaguely.
"What about...recurring dreams?" Boromir asked.
"Recurring dreams? I wouldn't say that if you have a dream more than once it necessarily means anything. I once had a dream repeat itself for a week, and it was about the forks and spoons rebelling and taking over Gondor." I replied dryly, and then grinned with amusement as I recalled the dream. That had to have been one of the few times I'd woken up laughing. Boromir just shot me a strange look, though.
"The forks and spoons rebelled and took over Gondor?" he asked.
"Yes, and their leader was a spork." I replied with a nod. There was a pause.
"What is a spork?" I grinned at the expected question.
"A small spoon with fork-like tongs on the end. A combination of a fork and a spoon. Thus, the name 'spork'." I explained. I idly wondered how I could have gone 40 years without telling Boromir about sporks.
"Ah." Boromir said, and then frowned again.
"Why are you asking all this, anyways?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"Uh..." Boromir paused, and then apparently decided to go for broke. "Faramir has been having this dream recently, and it's been repeating itself. It's strange, and he says he can't seem to put it out of his mind. He said he was just going to ignore it, but then I had the same dream, and we both remembered what you said about dreams sometimes meaning something."
"So you got voted to be the one to come ask me about it?" I asked with a grin. Boromir looked back sheepishly.
"Faramir is far my superior in hand-to-hand combat." he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Boys will be boys. What is this dream about?" I asked. Boromir paused, then closed his eyes and stopped walking as he remembered.
"It starts with a wide view of the lands of Gondor, and then the eastern sky grows dark, and there is growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingers. Out of the light I hear a voice, sounding distant, yet clear all the same, crying out to me." he said.
"And what does it say?" I asked softly.
"Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand." Boromir quoted softly. I looked at him for a moment.
"I think we had best speak to your father about this." I said finally. Boromir looked at me in surprise.
"Father? Why?" he asked.
"Because he is wise in the lore of Gondor, and while those words just tickle my memory, reminding me of some lesson long forgotten, he might be able to decipher them." I replied. "Come, I believe he is lunching alone today, we can speak with him while we eat." So Boromir and I set off for Denethor's rooms. Along the way, we ran into Faramir, who decided to come along. So Denethor's 'private' lunch ended out being not so private after all, though I don't think he minded - at first.
Boromir and Faramir, between them, told their father of the dream they'd both had. I could tell that Denethor would have dismissed it quickly, if not for the words that they heard, and the fact that they both had the same dream. He understood little of it, of course - he did decipher that Imladris was Rivendell, though. Surprisingly enough. Gondor seemed to be incredibly ignorant about it's own past...of course, part of the little prophecy was dealing with something that happened over 3000 years ago, so I guess they had an excuse. Mortals forget so easily. Eurgh, I sound so Elvish.
"Perhaps in this Rivendell we might find answers to what the dream means." Faramir suggested thoughtfully after Denethor had told them what he knew. I was practically biting my tongue off to keep from speaking up at this point - I never knew how hard it was to just let things go by as they would.
"It is a long journey, by all tales, and most of the roads there are forgotten." Denethor said with a frown. "I could not spare you two for such a journey."
"Father, this dream means something. I know it!" Boromir protested. "And it speaks words of dire warning. If there is someone who can decipher it, then let us seek them out!" I resisted the urge to smirk at the fact that I knew what it meant, and they were contemplating going halfway across Middle-Earth to find out from somebody else.
"No, Boromir, I can not spare either of you!" Denethor said sternly.
"Perhaps this is a case where it would be best to ere on the side of caution, m'Lord." I said softly, simply because I couldn't resist saying something. All three heads turned towards me.
"What do you mean, Asira?" Denethor asked slowly after a moment.
"We do not know if this dream means anything. Perhaps it means nothing. Or perhaps it could change the fate of Middle-Earth. Is it not best to at least try to find out?" I asked. All three men were silent. Then, Faramir and Boromir turned to Denethor with triumphant looks on their faces.
"Very well, we shall send a messenger." Denethor said in annoyance, and Boromir and Faramir's faces fell.
"A messenger would not make it. The north has become a dangerous place. Only a skilled warrior can now survive the journey." I replied flatly.
"And how would you, a Lady who has never left Gondor, know of the dangers of the roads in the north?" Denethor asked, looking even more annoyed.
"I listen." I replied with a serene smile. Boromir and Faramir were looking triumphant again. Denethor thought for a moment, and then snarled in annoyance.
"You are right, as usual, Asira." he said. "But only one of my sons shall go. I will not send both on a fool's errand."
"I shall go." Boromir offered at the same instant as Faramir.
"You choose which one shall go, Asira." Denethor said.
"Me?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up.
"Yes, you should have the opportunity to choose your own traveling partner." Denethor replied calmly. I choked.
"My WHAT?!" I exclaimed.
"Traveling partner. Since you are so set on one of my sons leaving Gondor, you can accompany whichever one goes on the journey." Denethor said with a slight smirk. While I gaped at him, Boromir and Faramir got righteously indignant on my behalf.
"Father! She is not a warrior! She can not even fight! How is she supposed to survive the journey?" Boromir protested.
"There is no need for her to go." Faramir said.
"She shall go with one of you two, or no one shall go." Denethor said firmly.
"No." I said angrily. "No bloody way. Boromir will bloody well go alone, Denethor." All three men at the table stared at me. My use of swear words - which I used very sparingly - leant meaning to my words. Denethor, however, seemed to only harden his resolve at my protest.
"You shall go, Lady Asira, with Boromir if you so wish. But you shall go." he said icily.
"I shall not." I said stiffly.
"Then you shall be banished." Denethor said calmly. Once more, I gaped while Boromir and Faramir got angry on my behalf.
"Father, you're being unreasonable!" Faramir said.
"Don't bother, Faramir." I said icily, standing abruptly. "I would accept that condition readily, m'Lord Denethor, if I thought that you would still allow Boromir to go. But I have a feeling the only way someone from Gondor shall reach Rivendell with news of your sons dream is if I go with them. So I shall go."
"Asira, you do not have to come." Boromir said soothingly.
"Yes, she does have to go, Boromir." Denethor snapped. It hit me suddenly, that Denethor must have begun looking into the palantír, and his fey mood had begun. I growled slightly as my face darkened.
"I will go, Boromir." I said pointedly, then muttered, unaware that all three men could here me, as I turned and left, "I would rather go back to Rivendell then stay around you and your fey mood, anyways."
----To be continued...with angry!Glorfindel!----
(Not to mention other glowy elves...)
-Author's Note:-
I wrote the last sentence of this story today. I haven't written the chapters inbetween here and that sentence, but I wrote the last sentence all the same...Does anyone besides me find that slightly odd? I've never had a story that I KNEW where it was going to go so strongly that i could do that. Is very very odd.
And to my reviewers, I say that y'all rock! And since this chapter boasts the return to Rivendell, y'all get random Rivendell Elves. Unfortunately, since Elrond seems to have found and remembered how to use his sword from the Last Alliance, random Rivendell Elves does NOT include any of the main characters from the book...though Elladan and Glorfindel DID offer to be included in the random Rivendell Elves despite that. Unfortunately, Elrond forbid Elladan to do so, and Rachel sat (and is still sitting) on Glorfindel, thereby voiding his offer...
So for everybody else who hasn't reviewed, remember - you can get random elves if you review! And only you can prevent forest fires! Unless you're a flamer. Then only you can cause story fires. Heh, I feel so clever...(it's the little things in life that amuse me)
~Crimson Starlight
-Revision's Author's Note:-
It's been bugging me how little I mentioned Gandalf and all the other inhabitants of Minas Tirith and Gondor in general in this chapter, so I added a whole bunch of stuff about Imrahil, Gandalf and Thorongil in the middle, and a bit at the beginning. This lead to a slight revision of Chapter 23, where I had to delete a mention of rachel's encounters with Gandalf that my revisions to this chapter have no longer made accurate. Also, I re-wrote the last paragraph of this chapter, because it was annoying me.
~CS
-Disclaimer:-
CS: I don't own any of the characters or places except Rachel and Kari.
Kari: Ooo, you do remember me!
CS: 'Course I remember you. Just because I haven't mentioned you in a few chapters, and you haven't been in even more chapters, doesn't mean I've forgotten about you. What makes you think I would forget about you?
Kari: You forget what you had for breakfast by supertime the same day. Why should I NOT assume that not mentioning me for a few chapters would cause you to forget me?
CS: ...
Kari: *smirk*
-18: Trouble-
After that visit, during which Gandalf stayed only a few days, and spoke to me no more, Gandalf became a regular at the Prancing Pony. I had decided once again to bank on close proximity with the Dúnedain to allow me to stay somewhat longer in Bree, so I spent 50 years there, and Gandalf and I came to be friends of a sort, though it was based on the understanding that he not probe into my past. I think it frustrated him, actually, to for once not know the entire story behind someone, and was the reason that when I informed him I was leaving Bree, he actually asked me to stay, or perhaps accompany him on his travels. I refused both requests, though I told him to look for me in the south if he ever wanted to find me again. His reply was a curt 'the south is a very big place', and that was the last time we spoke for many years.
I was very much aware, of course, that the War of the Ring was drawing near, and it was about time I figure out where I wanted to be when it happened. I had long ago determined that I was NOT going to live through the War of the Ring without seeing the Fellowship at least once, and preferably Boromir before he set out for his doomed trip to Rivendell, as well. So as I rode on my horse - bought from the Liltalen Ranch with money no one in Bree had thought I had (I'd collected a rather large sum of money over the years) - I considered where to go. I knew that where I decided to be for the War of the Ring, I would go to another kingdom entirely for one lifetime or so before finding my way to where I wanted to be and settling in. There was still 209 years until the forming of the Fellowship, after all.
Eventually, I decided that since, sooner or later, EVERY major player in the War of the Ring passed through Minas Tirith, I would park myself there for the War of the Ring. It would also give me the opportunity to at least see Imrahil of Dol Amroth - someone I'd always been curious about - along with Thorongil - aka, Aragorn. And I would get to speak with Gandalf again.
This decision that I would head to Rohan for a hundred years or so. Rifling around in my memory, I decided that I would leave Rohan and head for Gondor the same year Bilbo was born - 2890. Which left me 81 years to do as I wished in Rohan.
Once my destination was decided, I reached Rohan quite quickly, and - surprisingly - without any trouble from Orcs. I had a feeling that damn Mary-Sue Factor, which had been quiet for far too long, was acting up again. After all, what use was there in me being attacked by Orcs if there was no hero around to rescue me? Unless it wanted to create the in-the-past Orc-rape plot twist. Eurgh. I shuddered at the idea.
I set myself up quite easily in a small town on the borders of Rohan, pretending to be a humble refugee from the north, and set about having a cheerful life back with the people I found so easy to like and relate to. After 40 years, though, I left the town on the pretense of trying to return to the north and find my family, and I made for Meduseld. Once again, I somehow managed to get work in the stables, much to my amusement. It was quite interesting to be poking around the stables and see all the changes, much as it had been interesting to poke around Bree after my 550-some year absence.
Eventually, however, the year 2890 rolled around, and I respectfully informed the Stablemaster that I had received word from family in Bree that I was needed. With a gift of one of the better horses from the stables, I then skedaddled my way west to Minas Tirith. I set my horse free upon arriving in Minas Tirith, not wanting to be recognized from my horse - entirely possible, since Rohan and Gondor still had a fairly close relationship at this point, and I was well-known among those of the Rohirrim inclined to travels. Bad side effect of working in stables.
In Minas Tirith once again, I decided this time to start at the lowest ring of the city, and then go up as high as I could for the War of the Ring. So I got a job in a tavern of the 7th ring of the city - though I really didn't need a job now, with all the money I'd collected over close to 800 years. It's really amazing how much money you can hoard when you don't have to stop working at a certain age or spend the money on taking care of a family. Anyways. I stayed in the 7th ring for 38 years, and then moved up to the 4th ring.
Around this time, things were starting to get nasty in Middle-Earth, the war with Sauron was really picking up. I heard bits and pieces of the news as I worked in a small herb shop, but most of my knowledge of the goings-on of the world came from what I remembered from the Lord of the Rings appendixes, which now seemed such a long ways in my past - though remarkably clear.
I threw a little party for myself on Aragorn's birthday - March 1st, 2931 - and a larger party for most of the people I knew on New Years of 2941/2942, the years Bilbo had his adventure. It made people think I was slightly touched in the head, since I couldn't tell them why I was throwing the parties, but hey, it was fun to do.
It was, however, eventually time for me to go on again, and I knew that my next little change of identity would be the last before the War of the Ring. People were getting too suspicious of strangers, and I was getting too impatient. So, in summer of the same year Frodo was born - 2968 - I 'left' for Dol Amroth and the supposed safety that was there. I left most of my belongings behind, so I had no extra baggage, and then I headed up through the circles of the city, until at last, the guards to the 2nd ring of the city denied me entrance.
I wandered through the streets until I found a dress makers, bought myself a newer, shinier, more expensive dress, chucked my old dress, chucked my headscarf/bandana altogether and did my hair in a way that hid my ear tips, and made for the gates once more. I was admitted without question, all the way up to the palace, where I was able to find a job as Asira, a little-known lady from the north of Gondor, and now lady-in-waiting to some court lady or another. Really, the security in Minas Tirith was horrid - any woman with a pretty face could go just about anywhere as long as they looked the part. It was a good thing Sauron and Saruman never thought of using women as spies or soldiers, because if they had, the War of the Ring would have ended rather quickly in the favour of the bad guys.
Anyways. I settled in as a lady-in-waiting, and though I was horridly bored, I did get news. I also managed to meet 'Thorongil' once or twice, and though I couldn't have any sort of serious conversation with him without giving myself away, I decided that from what I'd seen he was definitely a cool guy, and would make an excellent king. My lady found Gandalf scary, however, so I was unable to speak with him the few times he came to the City. Imrahil was also absent, but as he'd only been born 13 years before I came into my ladies service, it was no surprise that he didn't visit.
As a lady-in-waiting, I also learned how to talk prim and proper, much to my chagrin. I was quite enjoying myself, though, despite all the embroidery and frippery that went on. At least, I enjoyed myself until suddenly, eight years after I came to the palace and became a lady-in-waiting, the lady I was the lady-in-waiting TO (confusing, isn't it?) got sick and died. I was still in shock somewhat from that when I received word that I was to become a lady-in-waiting to the Lady Finduilas, recently arrived from Dol Amroth...and new wife to Denethor, the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor.
The night after I found out about my new mistress, I was no where to be found in the palace. Indeed, I was down in the 6th ring of the city, in the trashiest clothes I could find, getting rip-roaring drunk. I was cursing worst than most of the men in the 7th ring, and I'm pretty sure I got kicked out of at least 4 taverns for rowdy behavior. I was drowning my anger at the Mary-Sue Factor, of course. I knew, without a doubt, that the Mary-Sue Factor was responsible for the timely death of my old mistress, and my new assignment. Whether the Mary-Sue Factor had caused my mistress to actually die, or just stuck me with a lady that was doomed to die, I didn't know - and didn't care.
I was back in the palace the next day, however, calm and cool, showing no signs of my night of drinking due to my Elvish constitution. I was still angry, however, and for the better part of the year, I bonded with none of the members of the new circle of ladies-in-waiting that I found myself in. I think Finduilas was just starting to become worried about me when I suddenly woke up one day and decided that this was shit, and let my anger at the Mary-Sue Factor go. It was just one of those moments when you realize that something you've been worrying about really just isn't worth it. I could do nothing about the Mary-Sue Factor - or at least, didn't want to at this point - so I decided to just ignore it.
I did, however, swear to myself that all admiration (at least in the body aspect) of males recognizable from the 'Lord of the Rings' books would be internal only - in other words, I effectively swore of all the hot men of Middle-Earth. That made me depressed in an entirely different way, but I knew it would effectively keep the Mary-Sue Factor in check.
My recovery was well timed, anyways, as not long afterwards, it was discovered that Finduilas was pregnant. I smiled when I heard the news, realizing that I would more than get my wish to see Boromir before he went to Rivendell and ended out becoming a water-logged pin cushion.
Before I go any further, I should say that I've never wanted children. They've always seemed to annoy the heck out of me, not to mention that I don't feel particularly inclined to put myself through the pain and trouble of pregnancy and labour. But for some reason, when a kid isn't yours, and you watch them from birth, through their childhood, until they grow up, they don't seem so annoying.
I don't know, maybe Boromir - and later, Faramir - just tried particularly hard not to piss me off. I was, by far, the loosest and least prim and proper of all of Finduilas' ladies-in-waiting, and Boromir and Faramir seemed to sense that, gravitating towards me like flies to honey. It might have also had something to do with the fact that I was the youngest looking of all the ladies-in-waiting, but somehow I doubt it.
So, since Boromir and Faramir were already gravitating towards me, I took the opportunity to try and smooth things over between the brothers, especially once Denethor started playing favorites and spoiling Boromir. I also pounded into Boromir's head every chance I got that shields were important. I knew better then to actually get involved and change the future, but I would try to do what I could, dammit. After all, if Boromir carried his shield when he went after Frodo, he'd have it when he was trying to save Merry and Pippin, and shields are really very handy in blocking arrows.
Yes, it was a feeble excuse, but there are some opportunities I can't let slip past. Heck, if I had been in Rivendell around the time Celebrían was going to come back from Lothlorien and get attacked by Orcs, I probably would have tried to change that. Anyways.
Imrahil finally made his first appearance in Minas Tirith (Denethor and Finduilas' wedding had been in Dol Amroth, and my lady unable to attend) in 2980, when he was 25 - and still an eligible bachelor. Finduilas was immediately swarmed with all sorts of new 'friends', trying to get to her brother through her. Disgusted over this behavior, I requested - and was granted - permission to watch over 2-year-old Boromir for the duration of Imrahil's visit.
This led to me being one of the lucky few who actually got to meet and talk to Imrahil when he wasn't sporting his 'court face', as Finduilas called it. The Prince of Dol Amroth was actually a rather funny guy - and damn attractive. If I hadn't sworn off book recognizable males...well, I suppose it's a good thing I had, because Finduilas commented after my first meeting with Imrahil (she'd brought him to see Boromir) that she was glad I hadn't showed an interest in him. She needed a partner. And so I found myself one half of a duo that spent its time helping Imrahil get away from court ladies.
Imrahil and I actually became rather good friends during that visit, especially after I helped him sneak out of the Citadel one night to a tavern in the sixth ring of the city. As many of Imrahil's escort also frequented this same tavern, this earned me the Swan Knight Stamp of Approval. I was almost as sad to see Imrahil leave as Finduilas, in the end, and was right there on the palace steps waiting for him when he returned for a visit shortly after Faramir was born.
After Finduilas died, however, Imrahil did not visit Minas Tirith again. Faramir and Boromir were free to visit him in Dol Amroth, as was I, but I was forced to politely refuse all invitations and remain in Minas Tirith. I didn't know, and wasn't sure I wanted to find out, what effect the sea would have on me now that I was an elf.
Gandalf had, of course, shown up in Minas Tirith during this time, but our old understanding about him not nosing into my past was gone, and I soon took to avoiding him. This, in turn, put me in Denethor's good books, as he liked Saruman more than Gandalf.
Anyways, moving on - Finduilas died in 2988, when Faramir was 5, and Boromir 10. Denethor and I between us comforted the two boys, but it soon turned into me comforting all three males of that family, as Denethor succumbed to his own grief after trying to hold it in for too long. The ladies-in-waiting, no surprise, were no help to me, as they found it absolutely scandalous that I would comfort the Steward. They seemed to have this strange idea that the two boys and their father needed to get past this on their own, otherwise they wouldn't be or become men. Which was complete shit. They needed to work through it themselves, yes, and I couldn't help them with that. But I could be there as a soothing presence when their tears broke loose.
In the end, I'm pretty sure it was my willingness to comfort the Steward and his sons that inevitably led to my staying in the palace, just as much as it led to the strange tend of the ladies in the palace to not want me to be their lady-in-waiting. I probably wouldn't have wanted to work for any of them, anyways. Whatever the reason, I soon found myself as the ONLY female in the personal employ of Denethor and sons.
I think my official title was tutor, but I can't remember ever teaching either Boromir or Faramir anything, other than how to get out of lessons and act innocent. I overheard a Lady commenting once that I was like a surrogate mother to the boys, but I heartily disagree - I had none of the responsibility or concern of a mother. If anything, I was the sister that they didn't have, and that couldn't get in trouble.
Whatever I was to the boys, I enjoyed my time in Minas Tirith with them a great deal. I'm afraid I doted somewhat on Boromir during the last few years before the War of the Ring, but I rationalized it with the fact that he wouldn't be around much longer. It could also have been due to the Mary-Sue Factor, since the events it spawned took me right where I didn't want to go, and where, I realized later, the Mary-Sue Factor was always trying to get me back to.
I was wandering through some of the deserted upper corridors of Minas Tirith in late June of 3018, trying to remember some of the more precise dates about the War of the Ring, when the events began. Boromir had recently returned from Osgiliath, and had seemed somewhat troubled, so I really wasn't all that surprised when he suddenly appeared beside me, falling into step and just walking with me for awhile, his expression thoughtful. As we walked, I mused about what his reaction would be if he knew he was walking beside someone who was trying to remember the dates for when the coming War would turn out as it did. Just as I decided it would probably be shock, followed by curiosity, and then righteous anger when I refused to tell him what would happen, Boromir finally spoke up.
"Asira, do you remember how you once told me that dreams were not always simple images the sleeping mind creates, but messages, either from your own mind, or a higher power?" he asked. I smiled softly. Ah yes, I remembered that piece of advice...I'd given it a good 20 years ago, when Boromir had complained about having strange dreams involving armies of Oliphants and blood-red sunrises. Shortly after, the first Oliphants had been spotted traveling from the south, into Mordor, effectively proving my point.
"Yes, I remember." I said.
"Did...do you, perhaps, know how to tell the difference between the meaningless dreams, and the ones that are telling you something?" Boromir asked with a light frown. I arched an eyebrow and looked at him, suddenly recalling why Boromir had shown up in Rivendell in time for the Council, and knowing where this line of questioning was going.
"Me? No, not really. Usually you should just be able to tell yourself. Dreams that mean something - or are just severely disturbing - will just stick with you." I replied vaguely.
"What about...recurring dreams?" Boromir asked.
"Recurring dreams? I wouldn't say that if you have a dream more than once it necessarily means anything. I once had a dream repeat itself for a week, and it was about the forks and spoons rebelling and taking over Gondor." I replied dryly, and then grinned with amusement as I recalled the dream. That had to have been one of the few times I'd woken up laughing. Boromir just shot me a strange look, though.
"The forks and spoons rebelled and took over Gondor?" he asked.
"Yes, and their leader was a spork." I replied with a nod. There was a pause.
"What is a spork?" I grinned at the expected question.
"A small spoon with fork-like tongs on the end. A combination of a fork and a spoon. Thus, the name 'spork'." I explained. I idly wondered how I could have gone 40 years without telling Boromir about sporks.
"Ah." Boromir said, and then frowned again.
"Why are you asking all this, anyways?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"Uh..." Boromir paused, and then apparently decided to go for broke. "Faramir has been having this dream recently, and it's been repeating itself. It's strange, and he says he can't seem to put it out of his mind. He said he was just going to ignore it, but then I had the same dream, and we both remembered what you said about dreams sometimes meaning something."
"So you got voted to be the one to come ask me about it?" I asked with a grin. Boromir looked back sheepishly.
"Faramir is far my superior in hand-to-hand combat." he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Boys will be boys. What is this dream about?" I asked. Boromir paused, then closed his eyes and stopped walking as he remembered.
"It starts with a wide view of the lands of Gondor, and then the eastern sky grows dark, and there is growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingers. Out of the light I hear a voice, sounding distant, yet clear all the same, crying out to me." he said.
"And what does it say?" I asked softly.
"Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand." Boromir quoted softly. I looked at him for a moment.
"I think we had best speak to your father about this." I said finally. Boromir looked at me in surprise.
"Father? Why?" he asked.
"Because he is wise in the lore of Gondor, and while those words just tickle my memory, reminding me of some lesson long forgotten, he might be able to decipher them." I replied. "Come, I believe he is lunching alone today, we can speak with him while we eat." So Boromir and I set off for Denethor's rooms. Along the way, we ran into Faramir, who decided to come along. So Denethor's 'private' lunch ended out being not so private after all, though I don't think he minded - at first.
Boromir and Faramir, between them, told their father of the dream they'd both had. I could tell that Denethor would have dismissed it quickly, if not for the words that they heard, and the fact that they both had the same dream. He understood little of it, of course - he did decipher that Imladris was Rivendell, though. Surprisingly enough. Gondor seemed to be incredibly ignorant about it's own past...of course, part of the little prophecy was dealing with something that happened over 3000 years ago, so I guess they had an excuse. Mortals forget so easily. Eurgh, I sound so Elvish.
"Perhaps in this Rivendell we might find answers to what the dream means." Faramir suggested thoughtfully after Denethor had told them what he knew. I was practically biting my tongue off to keep from speaking up at this point - I never knew how hard it was to just let things go by as they would.
"It is a long journey, by all tales, and most of the roads there are forgotten." Denethor said with a frown. "I could not spare you two for such a journey."
"Father, this dream means something. I know it!" Boromir protested. "And it speaks words of dire warning. If there is someone who can decipher it, then let us seek them out!" I resisted the urge to smirk at the fact that I knew what it meant, and they were contemplating going halfway across Middle-Earth to find out from somebody else.
"No, Boromir, I can not spare either of you!" Denethor said sternly.
"Perhaps this is a case where it would be best to ere on the side of caution, m'Lord." I said softly, simply because I couldn't resist saying something. All three heads turned towards me.
"What do you mean, Asira?" Denethor asked slowly after a moment.
"We do not know if this dream means anything. Perhaps it means nothing. Or perhaps it could change the fate of Middle-Earth. Is it not best to at least try to find out?" I asked. All three men were silent. Then, Faramir and Boromir turned to Denethor with triumphant looks on their faces.
"Very well, we shall send a messenger." Denethor said in annoyance, and Boromir and Faramir's faces fell.
"A messenger would not make it. The north has become a dangerous place. Only a skilled warrior can now survive the journey." I replied flatly.
"And how would you, a Lady who has never left Gondor, know of the dangers of the roads in the north?" Denethor asked, looking even more annoyed.
"I listen." I replied with a serene smile. Boromir and Faramir were looking triumphant again. Denethor thought for a moment, and then snarled in annoyance.
"You are right, as usual, Asira." he said. "But only one of my sons shall go. I will not send both on a fool's errand."
"I shall go." Boromir offered at the same instant as Faramir.
"You choose which one shall go, Asira." Denethor said.
"Me?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up.
"Yes, you should have the opportunity to choose your own traveling partner." Denethor replied calmly. I choked.
"My WHAT?!" I exclaimed.
"Traveling partner. Since you are so set on one of my sons leaving Gondor, you can accompany whichever one goes on the journey." Denethor said with a slight smirk. While I gaped at him, Boromir and Faramir got righteously indignant on my behalf.
"Father! She is not a warrior! She can not even fight! How is she supposed to survive the journey?" Boromir protested.
"There is no need for her to go." Faramir said.
"She shall go with one of you two, or no one shall go." Denethor said firmly.
"No." I said angrily. "No bloody way. Boromir will bloody well go alone, Denethor." All three men at the table stared at me. My use of swear words - which I used very sparingly - leant meaning to my words. Denethor, however, seemed to only harden his resolve at my protest.
"You shall go, Lady Asira, with Boromir if you so wish. But you shall go." he said icily.
"I shall not." I said stiffly.
"Then you shall be banished." Denethor said calmly. Once more, I gaped while Boromir and Faramir got angry on my behalf.
"Father, you're being unreasonable!" Faramir said.
"Don't bother, Faramir." I said icily, standing abruptly. "I would accept that condition readily, m'Lord Denethor, if I thought that you would still allow Boromir to go. But I have a feeling the only way someone from Gondor shall reach Rivendell with news of your sons dream is if I go with them. So I shall go."
"Asira, you do not have to come." Boromir said soothingly.
"Yes, she does have to go, Boromir." Denethor snapped. It hit me suddenly, that Denethor must have begun looking into the palantír, and his fey mood had begun. I growled slightly as my face darkened.
"I will go, Boromir." I said pointedly, then muttered, unaware that all three men could here me, as I turned and left, "I would rather go back to Rivendell then stay around you and your fey mood, anyways."
----To be continued...with angry!Glorfindel!----
(Not to mention other glowy elves...)
-Author's Note:-
I wrote the last sentence of this story today. I haven't written the chapters inbetween here and that sentence, but I wrote the last sentence all the same...Does anyone besides me find that slightly odd? I've never had a story that I KNEW where it was going to go so strongly that i could do that. Is very very odd.
And to my reviewers, I say that y'all rock! And since this chapter boasts the return to Rivendell, y'all get random Rivendell Elves. Unfortunately, since Elrond seems to have found and remembered how to use his sword from the Last Alliance, random Rivendell Elves does NOT include any of the main characters from the book...though Elladan and Glorfindel DID offer to be included in the random Rivendell Elves despite that. Unfortunately, Elrond forbid Elladan to do so, and Rachel sat (and is still sitting) on Glorfindel, thereby voiding his offer...
So for everybody else who hasn't reviewed, remember - you can get random elves if you review! And only you can prevent forest fires! Unless you're a flamer. Then only you can cause story fires. Heh, I feel so clever...(it's the little things in life that amuse me)
~Crimson Starlight
-Revision's Author's Note:-
It's been bugging me how little I mentioned Gandalf and all the other inhabitants of Minas Tirith and Gondor in general in this chapter, so I added a whole bunch of stuff about Imrahil, Gandalf and Thorongil in the middle, and a bit at the beginning. This lead to a slight revision of Chapter 23, where I had to delete a mention of rachel's encounters with Gandalf that my revisions to this chapter have no longer made accurate. Also, I re-wrote the last paragraph of this chapter, because it was annoying me.
~CS