Ack!! I didn't edit part four!! "Adariel looked up and opened her *mother*?" Mouth!! There's about a bazillion others, too. Goodness gracious.... Sorry 'bout that!
Oh goodness... I feel so stupid now, hehe... I've been spelling Nurardion's name wrong! It's Nurardaion! I was looking at my Elvish name sheets, checking the spelling of a character's name that will be appearing in this chapter (his name, not him) and I noticed it. You can tell I haven't looked at those in a while!
Okay, okay, laugh at me later. I'm a blond. I'll leave now. But remember to have fun! sulks away
^*^
The Dark Star
Part Five
Returns that Will Never Come
Standing at the western edge of Caras Galadhon, wearing a simple blue gray traveling gown and a Lórien cloak, Adariel pressed her back against Gil-luin, watching the unmoving trees. A faint mist hung in the air as she stared into the forest of Lothlórien. She had perfected an impassive mask, the one she used to wear during her childhood, but her eyes showed both her grief and conflict.
Surely going back was a good thing? But... if she saw her brother, she might lose control again; that couldn't happen. She had enough to deal with, she didn't need her friends and 'family' back home thinking that she'd returned to them crazy, let alone her marchwarden and border guard companions.
Then again, the girl who would be returning to them in - if things went well - a week and a half was very different from the girl who'd left. Who was to say that they wouldn't think she *was* crazy? A hint of a smile touched her lips as she remembered a comment Elrohir had once said, "Just because you're sane doesn't mean you aren't mad!"
She'd lightly hit his arm and demanded to know just who he thought he was, talking to her like that. His response was a beaming grin just before he grabbed her and tickled her until she could hardly breathe. Her current smile broadened as she remebered how Arwen had done her best to save her, but had only ended up victim to Nurardaion.
"I saw that."
She jerked her head to her right and saw Vinya watching her, a small smile on her face.
"Saw what?" she asked innocently, her smile fading ever so slightly as she returned from her memory.
"That smile," Vinya informed her, her own smile growing. "What where you thinking of?"
Adariel shook her head as if it were nothing. In fact, she said, "It was nothing. I was just, remembering a comment said by a very dear friend."
"What was that comment?" Vinya asked, genuinely interested.
"'Just because you're sane doesn't mean you aren't mad,'" she quoted with a broad smile. Vinya laughed.
"I may quote them someday! Who said it?"
"Elrohir. He is rather prone to such comments."
The girl's smile didn't fade, but her gaze did grow, to Adariel's confusion, rather amazed. "As in Elrohir of Rivendell, son of Lord Elrond?"
"Yes," Adariel replied, a confused frown creasing her brow. "Why?"
Vinya simply shook her head. "The people you know, Morelen."
If *that* wasn't confusing, Adariel didn't know what was. So she knew Elrohir, son of Elrond, what did it matter? She did tend to call Lord Elrond 'Uncle Elrond,' after all; Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel, and later Arwen, had grown up as second siblings to her, for that matter. Her second family.
Instead of replying, Adariel turned and stroked Gil-luin's neck. "Will you be coming with us, Vinya?" she asked.
The girl sighed. "No, not this time. But my cousin, who resides in Rivendell, will be giving birth within a month. I'll be there to welcome the child into the world, so perhaps I shall see you then."
Adariel smiled. "I hope so. But I *had* hoped that you'd be accompanying us; I'll have to handle so many of the male species." It had been a lasting joke between Adariel, Arwen, Aradalien, Nurar, Estel, Elrohir, and Elladan; women were completely insufferable, while men were absolutly intolerable.
But of course, Vinya did not know of this, nor was the fault her own. "I have a strange feeling that you'll handle them quite well."
"Oh, well enough," she replied absently, ducking under Gil-luin's neck to watch the approaching group of Elves. To her surpize, at the head of the group walked the Lord and Lady of the city. Another, even greater, shock was that none other than Haldir and his brothers stood at the head of the group of Lórien border guards and marchwardens. Surely he wasn't leading the escort?!
'He must have been ordered to lead,' she thought rationally. 'Why would he have anything to do with me? Quite clearly I was an inconvenience from the very beginning.'
Adariel blinked as she realized what she'd just done. Automatically, she'd assumed two things, one being that Haldir was leading in the first place, and two being the fact that he had been ordered to do so, if he *was* in the foremost position. Simply because he acted as if he didn't care for the world didn't mean that it was true; she of all people should have known that!
Vinya touched her arm then went to stand near the small group of people that had come to see off their family members and friends amongst the guard. Roughly eleven people for seven guard memebers stood in a cluster, smiling sadly at the marchwardens and border guards and shooting Adariel furtive glances when they thought that she didn't see, their thoughts incomprehensible.
Avoiding the eyes of the Lórien bystanders, Adariel watched the escort and the Lord and Lady, doing her best to remain as impassive as she had before. What others thought of her hand always mattered little to her, why should it matter more than that now? But then, she'd always had someone to turn to growing up in Rivendell; a friend or family member to support her and her convitions. In Lothlórien, however, she was alone.
'Perhaps not alone,' she realized. Vinya was clearly a friend, though perhaps not a close one, and Orophin... she was fairly sure he was a friend. Rúmil was distant, but friendly, and had the potential to be a steadfast friend and advisor to anyone, but Haldir... Haldir was a confusing thought in himself, so she simply avoided it.
No, she wasn't alone, but all the same, being amongst those she not only knew, but knew well and loved, would be a reassurance.
Adariel moved away from Gil-luin and toward the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, who stood but a few feet away from the escort, now assembled before Marchwarden Haldir. This confirmed her prior suspicions; Haldir *was* leading. Adariel wasn't sure what to think of this, so she didn't think of it at all.
She swept into a curtsy once more when she was before Galadriel and Celeborn. "My Lord, my Lady, I thank you agian for all you have done."
"You're quite welcome, Adariel," Celeborn said as he moved forward and, to her well-hidden surprise, kissed her gently on each cheek. He stepped back, and his wife moved forward and did the same. Both were smiling as they stood beside each other once more.
"Know that you are most welcome in these lands, Adariel Morelen," the Lady said. "And make no hesitation in returning to us."
She inclined her head respectivly, doing her best to hide uncomfort. She couldn't decide if she liked the Lord and Lady being so fond of her; rulers made her nervous. It never occured to her that she'd grown up practically as a daughter to people of nearly equal - if not completely equal - status to those before her. "Thank you for your gracious offer. Do not concern, for it most certainly will be seriously considered."
Both nodded silently, and it was almost as if she'd been given permission to turn around and walk back to her gelding; which was, in fact, exactly what she wanted. Adariel certainly had not wanted to simply turn around and waltz over to him, turning her back on the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim in the process.
Adariel curtsied once again, then turned and walked over to Gil-luin, who nudged her gently as if to say, 'Turn around and say good bye to the nice people so we can leave. I'm ready to go!'
She swallowed and turned around to find everyone present watching her. Some were smiling, some looked thoughtful, others looked completely impassive, but none looked scornful or scathing. Meeting Vinya's gaze, who looked sad and yet at the same time was beaming, Adariel hoped that the girl *would* travel to Rivendell - *safely* - if only to guarantee her the chance to see Vinya once again.
She nodded to everyone watching her, then turned and gathered Gil-luin's reigns. The gelding eyed her, clearly thinking that she was being silly, not mounting up, but made no protest. For which Adariel was admittedly thankful.
Unsure and uneasy, Adariel looked from Vinya, to Galadriel and Celeborn, to the escort, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do. Was she to simply leave, or was she expected to make some sort of grand speech or something of that sort?
Thankfully, the question was answered for her. Haldir turned and nodded to his men, who promptly moved forward to surround her in a loose circle. As confused as his mistress, Gil-luin moved closer to the Rivendell-Elf, who did her best to remain impassive; she simply loathed being confused, and she was as confused as she could be. But then Rúmil glanced at her, signalling with his eyes that they were to move forward then. She gave him a hardly noticable nod of relieved thanks as they began to move forward, entering the forest.
^*^
Sometime later, Adariel decided that the whole surrounding-her-at-the-edge-of- the-city part was really quite pointless. There was nothing in the Golden Wood that would harm them; it would have made more sense to just leave, and to pull up their guard when they left the safety of the Wood.
But, of course, a simple girl from Rivendell wasn't in a place to criticize the traditions of Lothlórien. Yet for some strange reason she couldn't pull her mind away from it, so she decided to consider the differences of the two Elven settlements.
One marked difference was color: Lothlórien was so... pale, while Imladris wasn't pale, but wasn't really dark, either. More of a blend of the two than either one specifically. The people in Imladris - particularly the guards and such - were friendlier too. But that may have been, perhaps, because she knew many of the Rivendell guards, several of them she knew personally. As well, Lórien was under many more attacks than Rivendell; but that didn't mean that Imladris didn't see it's fair share of attacks.
One of the attacks had occured when Adariel was out with her brother, who was on duty, and one of his friends. Roughly fifteen orcs had attempted to ambush them, but had been ambushed themselves. It had been the first time Adariel had fought in skirts, and she had done so ever since, as if proving that women *could* fight and look nice at the same time. Just because their dress and hair were both ruined in the process didn't mean it couldn't be done.
She looked down, her eyes prickling again. If she hadn't refused the escort from Rivendell, Nurardaion would, more than likely, still be alive, as would Aradalien. But she had been so terrified that if she *did* accept the guard, Dimalphion would have found a way to follow them to Lórien. Now, when she thought back, she would have rather faced Dimalphion by herself again - and a thousand times - rather than have what happened to Nurar and Aradalien.
So many things that were in her power that she should have or should not have done, all leading up to the deaths of her kin. It was more fixed in her mind than ever: She, Adariel Morelen of Imladris, was to blame for the deaths of her only remaining family.
She had half blindedly organized the travel plans, rushing through them and glazing over the small details. In her rush to leave *him,* she had overlooked more than she wished to remember, including the reports of strange orc-activity around Moria. She had brushed aside the offer of the escort, and had left nearly a week earlier than what was not only prudent, but earlier than what was wise. They had left too early, too unprepared, and too few for a pleasent - let alone successful - journey.
Her desperation to leave had been so great that she had ignored her sense of foreboding; not passing it off as nerves, but ignoring it completely. And by doing that, she had signed the final signature on her siblings' death warrants.
^*^
Half a day later; sunset
They halted on the eastern bank of the river Nimrodel as the sun began to lower in the sky. It was a landmark that Adariel was unsettled to realize that she didn't remember crossing. As the men surrouding her began to prepare camp - or whatever it was they did; Nurardaion had always told her to take care of the horses or to keep watch and let the men to the rest - she turned to her horse and took off the two packs, her bow, and her quiver.
She set her pack and weapon against a tree, out of the way, then took the other pack and moved to the center of the sort of circle that had been created. There were quiet converstations going on, but all but three would occasionlly glace at her as if they had been forbidden to speak around her. She avoided their gazes and set on her task of making supper, beginning by gather dead wood from the ground.
It was habitual: Adariel had always cooked when they were out; Nurar had been hopeless at it, and Aradalien had hardly even learned in the first place, leaving Adariel with the cooking duties. Which, she had decided long ago, she didn't mind in the least. A larger-than-normal amount of teasing and playful bantering had always taken place while supper was being prepared, served, and eaten; eveyone was always smiling.
She sighed as she began to pile with wood strategically, then started a small but very warm fire, made so due to the positions of the logs. She added a couple small logs to the fire then grabbed a pan, stood, and went to the Nimrodel to fill it with water. She was followed.
"My Lady, may I ask what you're doing?" Rúmil asked.
"Of course you may," she replied, straightening with the pan half-filled with water. "I'm making your evening meal. Someone has too, and, no offense intended, as I'm sure that you're all excellent soldiers, but I highly doubt that any of you are experts in the art of cooking."
"You needn't be an expert for an escapade such as ours," he pointed out wryly.
"No, you needn't be an expert," she agreed, "but it does make your trip a bit more pleasant."
"I do see your point," he admitted, kneeling down near the fire as she did the same. "But, are you not virtually a daughter to Lord Elrond? What drove you to learn such a skill when your family is of such rank?"
Adariel snorted, realizing that most of the others were listening. "Bordom! There were times when I was too young to help in the library or infirmary and had not yet proven myself in the archery range and was therefore unwanted. My choices were to either find *something* to do or have even more etiquette lessons forced upon me. The mother of one of my friends heard of my situation and asked if I would like to help in the kitchens. I accepted the offer."
Orophin flopped down on the ground on the other side of the fire, across from Adariel. "We all understand why you'd choose the kitchens," he said, waving his hand to indicate the whole group, "yet most women would be more likely to choose the etiquette. Why did you chose otherwise?"
She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "I'd already gone through all the levels of etiquette by then, and mastered them. I had no wish to start over."
"Understandably!" someone said, and a chuckle filtered through the group.
Adariel broke open a cloth ball and emptied the dried contents of what would soon be a soup into the water. After some consideration, she did the same with a second; let them eat all they needed, not just how much she decided to make.
"I suppose your parents didn't look kindly upon your choice?" Rúmil asked, and Adariel wondered if she was totally transparent.
"My father simply laughed and said to remember that I was to practice archery with him and my brother once daily. My mother didn't speak to me for three weeks."
She felt several stares of disbelief and stubbornly kept her eyes on the pot of soup.
"Three weeks?" someone repeated.
"Why?" another asked.
She shrugged again, forcing herself to be as transparent as steel. "She felt that it was servants' work. She was very kind, but believed solidly in her rank. She was never cruel, but she was rather... aloof." Adariel didn't mention that she had never been more than 'Morelen' to her mother, nor that - while she *had* been kind to everyone else - she had always been rather cold toward the daughter she'd titled 'Darkstar.'
While most of the disbelieved stares slowly relaxed, one gaze was still trained on her. Adariel looked up to see Haldir watching her, as unreadable as ever, and she knew that he saw straight through her.
Frowing at the thought of being so transparent, Adariel focused back on dinner, then said, "As displeased as my mother was, it worked out for the best; not only did I learn to cook, and do the task well, but I met several new people, including the girl who later became my brother's wife and the mother of my niece."
"You introduced them?" Rúmil asked.
"No, actually. My brother had come to the kitchens to tell me that I was wanted at the ranges, and Noviel happened to be there as well that particular day," she replied blinking away the stinging sensation from behind her eyes.
Adariel pulled out seven wooden bowls, as well as a spoon for each, and served each his soup as someone said, "How old is your niece?"
She looked up, squinting as she calculated and fighting the urge to collapse in tears. "I think she'll be... about eleven months old in roughly a week and a half."
'Growing up without a father.'
"And what of your sister? Did she have any children?"
"She- she had a fondness for flitation, but no," she choked out. 'She shall never have children of her own...'
Adariel jumped to her feet. "If you'll excuse me?"
She didn't wait for an answer, she simply left. She considered running, just dashing for Rivendell and not stopping until she was safely in Elrond's house, her door bolted and her curtains tied shut. But then, how would she get Nuradaion's... How would she get him back to Imladris?
She hadn't considered Celebnoviel and her daughter, Elencaran, until then. If Adariel was having such a hard time coping, how would Noviel be? Left to raise a child on her own, faced with never seeing her love again.
Adariel could only imagine what it would be like, to lose someone so dear to her. Guilt smashed into her like a tidal wave, and even more crashed down upon her when she thought of her little niece growing up never knowing her father.
Elencaran was a beautiful child, looking just like her father, with a more delicate touch to her features from her mother. Everyone had willingly accepted the beautiful kitchen girl into their family, and had been overjoyed to find that she would be having a child. Elencaran had hardly had time to see her mother once she was older than two months; Nurardaion had taken her everywhere. And when she wasn't with her father, she was with her aunt Adariel, aunt Arwen, uncle Elladan, uncle Elrohir, or uncle Elrond, and occasionally her aunt Aradalien would take her for a day. But, more often than not, Elencaran would be found in the gardens by the small stream, playing in the water with Nurar.
Nurar would occasionally take her to the archery ranges, where El, as they called her, would meet his friends from the guard, who would contradict their facades of unwavering toughness by passing her around, each man taking his turn holding her, and they soon developed a soft spot for her. When one of the men had brought his son, who was a few months older than El, all - particularly Nurar - had said that the little boy could play with El for now, but once he was five he couldn't be within ten feet of her without an escort.
Nurar had always been the overprotective sort. Any male who showed interest in his sisters had to pass through Nurardaion, son of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel first. Goodness help you if you showed interest and were, for some reason, on his bad side; which was rare, as Nurar had never truly had a 'bad side,' since he'd always been the good natured sort. But if he'd been over protective of his sisters, Valar help those of the male race who looked at his baby girl the wrong way when she was old enough to begin courting.
Aradalien wasn't married, and certainly didn't have children, but did not mean that she was not loved. She had more friends than Adariel could count, and were very close with several of them. The men had loved her, of course, but few were serious, simply infatuations; many were merely friends. Aradalien had never been able to cook, use a bow, or wield a sword, but she had the ways of courtship and socializing down to an art.
Adariel's twin had always loved beautiful things. She'd constantly worn beautiful gowns and dresses, and had amost always found the time to watch the sunrise and sunset, more often than not dragging Adariel along. It had been Aradalien to pull her from being the shy, soft spoken little girl she'd grown up as and turn her into the young woman who, most of the time, made friends with people swiftly, and could talk just as much as she could listen, when she used to do nothing but listen, letting other people burden her with their troubles. Then again, despite Aradalien's teachings, Adariel still tended to let others tell her their problems, and she still tended to carry the burdens of other people as well as her own. But Aradalien had accomplished somewhat; occasionally Adariel would finally open up and let someone else help her with her own problems.
It had been Aradalien who had helped her prepare for the midsummer banquet several years ago, at which she had caught several eyes. Aradalien had always stood up to their mother for her; when Avarlammeniel had stopped speaking to her for working in the kitchens, Aradalien had convinced the woman that it wasn't a bad thing, Adariel was simply unlike her mother.
When Adariel had gotten into a courtly mess by accusing a certain man of attacking her, Aradalien had jumped to her defense when he had accused her of lying to the council simply because he had been watching her in the gardens that day. He hadn't been found guilty, due to lack of evidence, but his reputation and crediblility had been demolished.
Most, if not all, of Imladris would be affected by all this. All that pain, cause by a single girl who had been so terrified of being forced to confront a man for a second time that she couldn't wait until it was safer, couldn't have an escort, couldn't listen to scout reports. She had failed to do everything in her power to protect them, and now and entire community would pay the price. Adariel wouldn't be surprised in the least if they threw her in the dungeons or banished her when she returned. It was more than she deserved.
"Lady Adariel."
Realizing that there were tears on her cheeks, Adariel reached up and brushed them away, turning to face whoever was behind her. Seeing who it was, she blinked in surprise. "Marchwarden Haldir."
"You shouldn't be out here alone, my Lady," he told her, taking a couple steps forward.
She looked away once more. "The forest of Lothlórien is well protected."
"A precaution," Haldir countered, "and preparation for later in our journey; you cannot simply wander away when we're out from Lórien's protection."
She made no response, and instead turned and rested her palm on the rough bark of a nearby tree. "Have you ever been face with a decision and made the wrong choice, thinking it was the right one and that it was for the best, only to find that it was the wrong choice?" She looked up at him. "Only to have it go drastically wrong and steal everything away from you?"
Haldir considered her for a moment, then said, "Yes, though the circumstances were different compared to yours."
Adariel sniffled, wiping her eyes. "What happened?"
He walked closer, then leaned against the tree, watching the leaves. "During my first week as Secondary Marchwarden, the western border was attacked during my watch. I chose to take fewer men than I should have; two of us out of eight came back."
She sniffled again, her gaze sympathetic. "I'm sorry."
Haldir shook his head. "That was years ago; I've learned from the mistake I've made, and I've done my best to help the families in anyway I can. All I can do is attempt to never make the same mistake again."
And with that he was gone. Adariel looked down and leaned against the same tree. 'I'm not the only one who has made the wrong choice,' she thought.
'But I had chances to amend things, and I did nothing,' another voice countered. Had everything depended on one mistake, it would have been different. But her circumstances involved several mistakes, all of which we had a chance to correct.
So many people were depending Nurardaion and Aradalien on returning, but would be dissappointed because Adariel had failed. There were so many people waiting for their return. Returns that would never come.
^*^
Well? What do ya think?
Oh goodness... I feel so stupid now, hehe... I've been spelling Nurardion's name wrong! It's Nurardaion! I was looking at my Elvish name sheets, checking the spelling of a character's name that will be appearing in this chapter (his name, not him) and I noticed it. You can tell I haven't looked at those in a while!
Okay, okay, laugh at me later. I'm a blond. I'll leave now. But remember to have fun! sulks away
^*^
The Dark Star
Part Five
Returns that Will Never Come
Standing at the western edge of Caras Galadhon, wearing a simple blue gray traveling gown and a Lórien cloak, Adariel pressed her back against Gil-luin, watching the unmoving trees. A faint mist hung in the air as she stared into the forest of Lothlórien. She had perfected an impassive mask, the one she used to wear during her childhood, but her eyes showed both her grief and conflict.
Surely going back was a good thing? But... if she saw her brother, she might lose control again; that couldn't happen. She had enough to deal with, she didn't need her friends and 'family' back home thinking that she'd returned to them crazy, let alone her marchwarden and border guard companions.
Then again, the girl who would be returning to them in - if things went well - a week and a half was very different from the girl who'd left. Who was to say that they wouldn't think she *was* crazy? A hint of a smile touched her lips as she remembered a comment Elrohir had once said, "Just because you're sane doesn't mean you aren't mad!"
She'd lightly hit his arm and demanded to know just who he thought he was, talking to her like that. His response was a beaming grin just before he grabbed her and tickled her until she could hardly breathe. Her current smile broadened as she remebered how Arwen had done her best to save her, but had only ended up victim to Nurardaion.
"I saw that."
She jerked her head to her right and saw Vinya watching her, a small smile on her face.
"Saw what?" she asked innocently, her smile fading ever so slightly as she returned from her memory.
"That smile," Vinya informed her, her own smile growing. "What where you thinking of?"
Adariel shook her head as if it were nothing. In fact, she said, "It was nothing. I was just, remembering a comment said by a very dear friend."
"What was that comment?" Vinya asked, genuinely interested.
"'Just because you're sane doesn't mean you aren't mad,'" she quoted with a broad smile. Vinya laughed.
"I may quote them someday! Who said it?"
"Elrohir. He is rather prone to such comments."
The girl's smile didn't fade, but her gaze did grow, to Adariel's confusion, rather amazed. "As in Elrohir of Rivendell, son of Lord Elrond?"
"Yes," Adariel replied, a confused frown creasing her brow. "Why?"
Vinya simply shook her head. "The people you know, Morelen."
If *that* wasn't confusing, Adariel didn't know what was. So she knew Elrohir, son of Elrond, what did it matter? She did tend to call Lord Elrond 'Uncle Elrond,' after all; Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel, and later Arwen, had grown up as second siblings to her, for that matter. Her second family.
Instead of replying, Adariel turned and stroked Gil-luin's neck. "Will you be coming with us, Vinya?" she asked.
The girl sighed. "No, not this time. But my cousin, who resides in Rivendell, will be giving birth within a month. I'll be there to welcome the child into the world, so perhaps I shall see you then."
Adariel smiled. "I hope so. But I *had* hoped that you'd be accompanying us; I'll have to handle so many of the male species." It had been a lasting joke between Adariel, Arwen, Aradalien, Nurar, Estel, Elrohir, and Elladan; women were completely insufferable, while men were absolutly intolerable.
But of course, Vinya did not know of this, nor was the fault her own. "I have a strange feeling that you'll handle them quite well."
"Oh, well enough," she replied absently, ducking under Gil-luin's neck to watch the approaching group of Elves. To her surpize, at the head of the group walked the Lord and Lady of the city. Another, even greater, shock was that none other than Haldir and his brothers stood at the head of the group of Lórien border guards and marchwardens. Surely he wasn't leading the escort?!
'He must have been ordered to lead,' she thought rationally. 'Why would he have anything to do with me? Quite clearly I was an inconvenience from the very beginning.'
Adariel blinked as she realized what she'd just done. Automatically, she'd assumed two things, one being that Haldir was leading in the first place, and two being the fact that he had been ordered to do so, if he *was* in the foremost position. Simply because he acted as if he didn't care for the world didn't mean that it was true; she of all people should have known that!
Vinya touched her arm then went to stand near the small group of people that had come to see off their family members and friends amongst the guard. Roughly eleven people for seven guard memebers stood in a cluster, smiling sadly at the marchwardens and border guards and shooting Adariel furtive glances when they thought that she didn't see, their thoughts incomprehensible.
Avoiding the eyes of the Lórien bystanders, Adariel watched the escort and the Lord and Lady, doing her best to remain as impassive as she had before. What others thought of her hand always mattered little to her, why should it matter more than that now? But then, she'd always had someone to turn to growing up in Rivendell; a friend or family member to support her and her convitions. In Lothlórien, however, she was alone.
'Perhaps not alone,' she realized. Vinya was clearly a friend, though perhaps not a close one, and Orophin... she was fairly sure he was a friend. Rúmil was distant, but friendly, and had the potential to be a steadfast friend and advisor to anyone, but Haldir... Haldir was a confusing thought in himself, so she simply avoided it.
No, she wasn't alone, but all the same, being amongst those she not only knew, but knew well and loved, would be a reassurance.
Adariel moved away from Gil-luin and toward the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, who stood but a few feet away from the escort, now assembled before Marchwarden Haldir. This confirmed her prior suspicions; Haldir *was* leading. Adariel wasn't sure what to think of this, so she didn't think of it at all.
She swept into a curtsy once more when she was before Galadriel and Celeborn. "My Lord, my Lady, I thank you agian for all you have done."
"You're quite welcome, Adariel," Celeborn said as he moved forward and, to her well-hidden surprise, kissed her gently on each cheek. He stepped back, and his wife moved forward and did the same. Both were smiling as they stood beside each other once more.
"Know that you are most welcome in these lands, Adariel Morelen," the Lady said. "And make no hesitation in returning to us."
She inclined her head respectivly, doing her best to hide uncomfort. She couldn't decide if she liked the Lord and Lady being so fond of her; rulers made her nervous. It never occured to her that she'd grown up practically as a daughter to people of nearly equal - if not completely equal - status to those before her. "Thank you for your gracious offer. Do not concern, for it most certainly will be seriously considered."
Both nodded silently, and it was almost as if she'd been given permission to turn around and walk back to her gelding; which was, in fact, exactly what she wanted. Adariel certainly had not wanted to simply turn around and waltz over to him, turning her back on the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim in the process.
Adariel curtsied once again, then turned and walked over to Gil-luin, who nudged her gently as if to say, 'Turn around and say good bye to the nice people so we can leave. I'm ready to go!'
She swallowed and turned around to find everyone present watching her. Some were smiling, some looked thoughtful, others looked completely impassive, but none looked scornful or scathing. Meeting Vinya's gaze, who looked sad and yet at the same time was beaming, Adariel hoped that the girl *would* travel to Rivendell - *safely* - if only to guarantee her the chance to see Vinya once again.
She nodded to everyone watching her, then turned and gathered Gil-luin's reigns. The gelding eyed her, clearly thinking that she was being silly, not mounting up, but made no protest. For which Adariel was admittedly thankful.
Unsure and uneasy, Adariel looked from Vinya, to Galadriel and Celeborn, to the escort, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do. Was she to simply leave, or was she expected to make some sort of grand speech or something of that sort?
Thankfully, the question was answered for her. Haldir turned and nodded to his men, who promptly moved forward to surround her in a loose circle. As confused as his mistress, Gil-luin moved closer to the Rivendell-Elf, who did her best to remain impassive; she simply loathed being confused, and she was as confused as she could be. But then Rúmil glanced at her, signalling with his eyes that they were to move forward then. She gave him a hardly noticable nod of relieved thanks as they began to move forward, entering the forest.
^*^
Sometime later, Adariel decided that the whole surrounding-her-at-the-edge-of- the-city part was really quite pointless. There was nothing in the Golden Wood that would harm them; it would have made more sense to just leave, and to pull up their guard when they left the safety of the Wood.
But, of course, a simple girl from Rivendell wasn't in a place to criticize the traditions of Lothlórien. Yet for some strange reason she couldn't pull her mind away from it, so she decided to consider the differences of the two Elven settlements.
One marked difference was color: Lothlórien was so... pale, while Imladris wasn't pale, but wasn't really dark, either. More of a blend of the two than either one specifically. The people in Imladris - particularly the guards and such - were friendlier too. But that may have been, perhaps, because she knew many of the Rivendell guards, several of them she knew personally. As well, Lórien was under many more attacks than Rivendell; but that didn't mean that Imladris didn't see it's fair share of attacks.
One of the attacks had occured when Adariel was out with her brother, who was on duty, and one of his friends. Roughly fifteen orcs had attempted to ambush them, but had been ambushed themselves. It had been the first time Adariel had fought in skirts, and she had done so ever since, as if proving that women *could* fight and look nice at the same time. Just because their dress and hair were both ruined in the process didn't mean it couldn't be done.
She looked down, her eyes prickling again. If she hadn't refused the escort from Rivendell, Nurardaion would, more than likely, still be alive, as would Aradalien. But she had been so terrified that if she *did* accept the guard, Dimalphion would have found a way to follow them to Lórien. Now, when she thought back, she would have rather faced Dimalphion by herself again - and a thousand times - rather than have what happened to Nurar and Aradalien.
So many things that were in her power that she should have or should not have done, all leading up to the deaths of her kin. It was more fixed in her mind than ever: She, Adariel Morelen of Imladris, was to blame for the deaths of her only remaining family.
She had half blindedly organized the travel plans, rushing through them and glazing over the small details. In her rush to leave *him,* she had overlooked more than she wished to remember, including the reports of strange orc-activity around Moria. She had brushed aside the offer of the escort, and had left nearly a week earlier than what was not only prudent, but earlier than what was wise. They had left too early, too unprepared, and too few for a pleasent - let alone successful - journey.
Her desperation to leave had been so great that she had ignored her sense of foreboding; not passing it off as nerves, but ignoring it completely. And by doing that, she had signed the final signature on her siblings' death warrants.
^*^
Half a day later; sunset
They halted on the eastern bank of the river Nimrodel as the sun began to lower in the sky. It was a landmark that Adariel was unsettled to realize that she didn't remember crossing. As the men surrouding her began to prepare camp - or whatever it was they did; Nurardaion had always told her to take care of the horses or to keep watch and let the men to the rest - she turned to her horse and took off the two packs, her bow, and her quiver.
She set her pack and weapon against a tree, out of the way, then took the other pack and moved to the center of the sort of circle that had been created. There were quiet converstations going on, but all but three would occasionlly glace at her as if they had been forbidden to speak around her. She avoided their gazes and set on her task of making supper, beginning by gather dead wood from the ground.
It was habitual: Adariel had always cooked when they were out; Nurar had been hopeless at it, and Aradalien had hardly even learned in the first place, leaving Adariel with the cooking duties. Which, she had decided long ago, she didn't mind in the least. A larger-than-normal amount of teasing and playful bantering had always taken place while supper was being prepared, served, and eaten; eveyone was always smiling.
She sighed as she began to pile with wood strategically, then started a small but very warm fire, made so due to the positions of the logs. She added a couple small logs to the fire then grabbed a pan, stood, and went to the Nimrodel to fill it with water. She was followed.
"My Lady, may I ask what you're doing?" Rúmil asked.
"Of course you may," she replied, straightening with the pan half-filled with water. "I'm making your evening meal. Someone has too, and, no offense intended, as I'm sure that you're all excellent soldiers, but I highly doubt that any of you are experts in the art of cooking."
"You needn't be an expert for an escapade such as ours," he pointed out wryly.
"No, you needn't be an expert," she agreed, "but it does make your trip a bit more pleasant."
"I do see your point," he admitted, kneeling down near the fire as she did the same. "But, are you not virtually a daughter to Lord Elrond? What drove you to learn such a skill when your family is of such rank?"
Adariel snorted, realizing that most of the others were listening. "Bordom! There were times when I was too young to help in the library or infirmary and had not yet proven myself in the archery range and was therefore unwanted. My choices were to either find *something* to do or have even more etiquette lessons forced upon me. The mother of one of my friends heard of my situation and asked if I would like to help in the kitchens. I accepted the offer."
Orophin flopped down on the ground on the other side of the fire, across from Adariel. "We all understand why you'd choose the kitchens," he said, waving his hand to indicate the whole group, "yet most women would be more likely to choose the etiquette. Why did you chose otherwise?"
She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "I'd already gone through all the levels of etiquette by then, and mastered them. I had no wish to start over."
"Understandably!" someone said, and a chuckle filtered through the group.
Adariel broke open a cloth ball and emptied the dried contents of what would soon be a soup into the water. After some consideration, she did the same with a second; let them eat all they needed, not just how much she decided to make.
"I suppose your parents didn't look kindly upon your choice?" Rúmil asked, and Adariel wondered if she was totally transparent.
"My father simply laughed and said to remember that I was to practice archery with him and my brother once daily. My mother didn't speak to me for three weeks."
She felt several stares of disbelief and stubbornly kept her eyes on the pot of soup.
"Three weeks?" someone repeated.
"Why?" another asked.
She shrugged again, forcing herself to be as transparent as steel. "She felt that it was servants' work. She was very kind, but believed solidly in her rank. She was never cruel, but she was rather... aloof." Adariel didn't mention that she had never been more than 'Morelen' to her mother, nor that - while she *had* been kind to everyone else - she had always been rather cold toward the daughter she'd titled 'Darkstar.'
While most of the disbelieved stares slowly relaxed, one gaze was still trained on her. Adariel looked up to see Haldir watching her, as unreadable as ever, and she knew that he saw straight through her.
Frowing at the thought of being so transparent, Adariel focused back on dinner, then said, "As displeased as my mother was, it worked out for the best; not only did I learn to cook, and do the task well, but I met several new people, including the girl who later became my brother's wife and the mother of my niece."
"You introduced them?" Rúmil asked.
"No, actually. My brother had come to the kitchens to tell me that I was wanted at the ranges, and Noviel happened to be there as well that particular day," she replied blinking away the stinging sensation from behind her eyes.
Adariel pulled out seven wooden bowls, as well as a spoon for each, and served each his soup as someone said, "How old is your niece?"
She looked up, squinting as she calculated and fighting the urge to collapse in tears. "I think she'll be... about eleven months old in roughly a week and a half."
'Growing up without a father.'
"And what of your sister? Did she have any children?"
"She- she had a fondness for flitation, but no," she choked out. 'She shall never have children of her own...'
Adariel jumped to her feet. "If you'll excuse me?"
She didn't wait for an answer, she simply left. She considered running, just dashing for Rivendell and not stopping until she was safely in Elrond's house, her door bolted and her curtains tied shut. But then, how would she get Nuradaion's... How would she get him back to Imladris?
She hadn't considered Celebnoviel and her daughter, Elencaran, until then. If Adariel was having such a hard time coping, how would Noviel be? Left to raise a child on her own, faced with never seeing her love again.
Adariel could only imagine what it would be like, to lose someone so dear to her. Guilt smashed into her like a tidal wave, and even more crashed down upon her when she thought of her little niece growing up never knowing her father.
Elencaran was a beautiful child, looking just like her father, with a more delicate touch to her features from her mother. Everyone had willingly accepted the beautiful kitchen girl into their family, and had been overjoyed to find that she would be having a child. Elencaran had hardly had time to see her mother once she was older than two months; Nurardaion had taken her everywhere. And when she wasn't with her father, she was with her aunt Adariel, aunt Arwen, uncle Elladan, uncle Elrohir, or uncle Elrond, and occasionally her aunt Aradalien would take her for a day. But, more often than not, Elencaran would be found in the gardens by the small stream, playing in the water with Nurar.
Nurar would occasionally take her to the archery ranges, where El, as they called her, would meet his friends from the guard, who would contradict their facades of unwavering toughness by passing her around, each man taking his turn holding her, and they soon developed a soft spot for her. When one of the men had brought his son, who was a few months older than El, all - particularly Nurar - had said that the little boy could play with El for now, but once he was five he couldn't be within ten feet of her without an escort.
Nurar had always been the overprotective sort. Any male who showed interest in his sisters had to pass through Nurardaion, son of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel first. Goodness help you if you showed interest and were, for some reason, on his bad side; which was rare, as Nurar had never truly had a 'bad side,' since he'd always been the good natured sort. But if he'd been over protective of his sisters, Valar help those of the male race who looked at his baby girl the wrong way when she was old enough to begin courting.
Aradalien wasn't married, and certainly didn't have children, but did not mean that she was not loved. She had more friends than Adariel could count, and were very close with several of them. The men had loved her, of course, but few were serious, simply infatuations; many were merely friends. Aradalien had never been able to cook, use a bow, or wield a sword, but she had the ways of courtship and socializing down to an art.
Adariel's twin had always loved beautiful things. She'd constantly worn beautiful gowns and dresses, and had amost always found the time to watch the sunrise and sunset, more often than not dragging Adariel along. It had been Aradalien to pull her from being the shy, soft spoken little girl she'd grown up as and turn her into the young woman who, most of the time, made friends with people swiftly, and could talk just as much as she could listen, when she used to do nothing but listen, letting other people burden her with their troubles. Then again, despite Aradalien's teachings, Adariel still tended to let others tell her their problems, and she still tended to carry the burdens of other people as well as her own. But Aradalien had accomplished somewhat; occasionally Adariel would finally open up and let someone else help her with her own problems.
It had been Aradalien who had helped her prepare for the midsummer banquet several years ago, at which she had caught several eyes. Aradalien had always stood up to their mother for her; when Avarlammeniel had stopped speaking to her for working in the kitchens, Aradalien had convinced the woman that it wasn't a bad thing, Adariel was simply unlike her mother.
When Adariel had gotten into a courtly mess by accusing a certain man of attacking her, Aradalien had jumped to her defense when he had accused her of lying to the council simply because he had been watching her in the gardens that day. He hadn't been found guilty, due to lack of evidence, but his reputation and crediblility had been demolished.
Most, if not all, of Imladris would be affected by all this. All that pain, cause by a single girl who had been so terrified of being forced to confront a man for a second time that she couldn't wait until it was safer, couldn't have an escort, couldn't listen to scout reports. She had failed to do everything in her power to protect them, and now and entire community would pay the price. Adariel wouldn't be surprised in the least if they threw her in the dungeons or banished her when she returned. It was more than she deserved.
"Lady Adariel."
Realizing that there were tears on her cheeks, Adariel reached up and brushed them away, turning to face whoever was behind her. Seeing who it was, she blinked in surprise. "Marchwarden Haldir."
"You shouldn't be out here alone, my Lady," he told her, taking a couple steps forward.
She looked away once more. "The forest of Lothlórien is well protected."
"A precaution," Haldir countered, "and preparation for later in our journey; you cannot simply wander away when we're out from Lórien's protection."
She made no response, and instead turned and rested her palm on the rough bark of a nearby tree. "Have you ever been face with a decision and made the wrong choice, thinking it was the right one and that it was for the best, only to find that it was the wrong choice?" She looked up at him. "Only to have it go drastically wrong and steal everything away from you?"
Haldir considered her for a moment, then said, "Yes, though the circumstances were different compared to yours."
Adariel sniffled, wiping her eyes. "What happened?"
He walked closer, then leaned against the tree, watching the leaves. "During my first week as Secondary Marchwarden, the western border was attacked during my watch. I chose to take fewer men than I should have; two of us out of eight came back."
She sniffled again, her gaze sympathetic. "I'm sorry."
Haldir shook his head. "That was years ago; I've learned from the mistake I've made, and I've done my best to help the families in anyway I can. All I can do is attempt to never make the same mistake again."
And with that he was gone. Adariel looked down and leaned against the same tree. 'I'm not the only one who has made the wrong choice,' she thought.
'But I had chances to amend things, and I did nothing,' another voice countered. Had everything depended on one mistake, it would have been different. But her circumstances involved several mistakes, all of which we had a chance to correct.
So many people were depending Nurardaion and Aradalien on returning, but would be dissappointed because Adariel had failed. There were so many people waiting for their return. Returns that would never come.
^*^
Well? What do ya think?