AUTHOR'S NOTE: The last chap. up (ch. 17) happens to be one of my faves and I am glad you all enjoyed it so much. It is rather exciting to be writing about the War of the Ring from different perspectives :). Special thanks to Valia-Elf, lindahoyland, and Natulcien who have all been wonderfully supportive of the story!!! You guys rock!! Enjoy ch. 18!
The sun rose in a flash of colour. Golden light cascaded down from the heavens to light upon the Elven-city of Imladris where the Elves yet dwell. Gold clashed with emerald and sapphire in the lands nearby where sunlight met against foliage and water. The flowing river sparkled like shimmering diamonds running along the valley beneath the eaves of the colour-changing trees. Autumn had come at last.
Arwen Undómiel sat with her feet tucked beneath her, slender hands latched on to a book, long shadowy hair cascading down her back and over her shoulder, and back against a tree by the stream. The shade of the tree covered her, yet plenty of light was had for reading. Her hair shimmered as it caught the light of the sun reflecting off the rushing waters to the side as did her palely brilliant skin. But what was truly resplendent was her face, stunningly so. There was none more beautiful that lived or had in the Third Age of Middle-earth. Arwen's sharp grey eyes shifted to silver or shining starlight when she turned her head while full mouth turned up in a warm smile ever so often.
The book she read held an amazing collection of lays written over the ages since the beginning of time. Some came from Eldamar when the Noldorin left the white shores to return to Middle-earth in search of the Silmarils while others were of the Silvan Elves who never left the land of Endorenna. None were written by the race of Men.
Her smile slowly departed from that lovely face once she came to the Lay of Lúthien. The grief joined with joy reached out to her heart as soon as she began. So many times before she had thought of the tale telling of the Mortal Man Beren coming upon the beautiful Elf-maiden Lúthien of Doriath and his love for her. She in turn came to love him as well, so they met in secret in the wooded land beyond the Elven-home. Her beauty was so great that no Elf or Man could help but love her, yet Beren loved her more than any. There was so much pain, so much grief in their lives.
Arwen flipped through the pages without finishing it. In the end Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel were wed at last when he retrieved a shining Silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. Thingol Singollo, her father, had made it a price for her—for he loved her more than anything else in all of Middle-earth—thinking it impossible.
"Impossible," she murmured. "Sometimes that is how it seems." She looked to the North and sighed.
Glorfindel had left only days ago to search for Aragorn and the hobbits he was guiding. Gandalf had arrived in Rivendell, yet he was worried for them. They had been ahead of him in their journeying until then. Elrond asked the golden-haired Glorfindel to go out into the land to find the small band. Frodo Baggins was a part of this group, the one who carried the Ring with him. Gandalf said the Nine were following them and they might have already had an encounter since he himself had had to ward them off on Amon Sûl.
I do hope not. If Aragorn is there he will keep them safe, but...what will happen to him? The Nazgûl are the most feared of Sauron for a reason, and if all nine are present...he may not be able to do much for the hobbits. Ilúvatar keep him safe from the Enemy!
Arwen hoped against hope that was not the reason for their slow coming. Although, something in her heart told her there was nothing to fear for she would know if Aragorn was slain; or even harmed.
I should speak with Mithrandir, she thought before closing the book gently and standing to her feet in one fluid movement. Her unshod feet moved across the grass without a noise, sinking into the soft earth but without leaving a trace. The air was still, the wind did not blow. Branches of the trees did not move at all. It was as if all was waiting along with her for those who bore the fate of Middle-earth to return.
She passed many Elves on her way and each one stared as she passed. The Elves had heard of her presence there in Rivendell, yet few caught a glimpse of the renowned Elf for she remained solitary or with those of her own blood. Some Elves smiled warmly to her in swift greeting. When they did she returned it with one of her own which seemed to surprise them. It did not take Arwen long to reach the halls where Gandalf was staying for the time. She trod them hoping to see him, but no sight of the Istari did she see.
When Gandalf had spoken to Elrond and her, his voice had taken on a sense of urgency and worry which usually never occurred with the wizard. He truly felt anxious for Frodo and the others. Father had sent Glorfindel, but that may not have made a difference in any case. How will the Elf find them? Arwen bit her lip in concern sending up a prayer for her beloved and the dear hobbits. She knew they would be stricken after their journey through such terrible peril if they reached Imladris.
Bilbo Baggins inquired of Gandalf everything he would let out of his young cousin and how he fared. Bilbo had been wringing his hands and muttering to himself lately. Gandalf said something under his breath about it being good it was Frodo Bilbo was thinking of and not the Ring that was drawing ever closer. Arwen felt a shudder run down her back when she thought of the One Ring coming to Imladris so soon where she dwelt. The things she had heard of it were appalling and dreadful knowing so much evil rested in so small a thing.
Arwen stood with Glorfindel speaking urgently with him. Aragorn, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Glorfindel had all arrived the night of the 20 of October. It was now the 22. Frodo was being tended by Elrond, for weeks before he had been stabbed by a Morgul blade in the hands of the Witch-king, the Black Captain of Minas Morgul, who led the Ringwraiths. Four had finally caught up to the small company on Weathertop after leaving Bree and attacked the camp. Aragorn defended them as best he could, yet Frodo had slipped the Ring on his finger in desperation, jolting himself into the shadow-world where the Ringwraiths dwelt forever more.
Glorfindel struggled to stifle a smile. "Aragorn was not harmed in the flight to the Ford." Then his face grew more solemn. "He did much for the Periannath. I wonder at his endurance and valiant heart facing the Nazgûl since there are not many who can even stand in their presence; particularly in the kindred of Men for they were once Men themselves." He no longer had to struggle to conceal a smile at the mention of the Nazgûl.
"Glorfindel, I thank you for being willing to share your knowledge with me" Arwen paused, "...and other things," she added with a raise of her eyebrow. "Elrond would not say much in my presence."
"Really? Now I have told you everything there is to know, and he will have my hide for it." He sighed. "Ai."
Arwen smiled as she stared out into the valley filled with golden light.
"Frodo will wake soon," said Glorfindel quietly, "and there shall be feasting indeed. I did not believe hobbits could be so resilient to the power of the Dark Lord when even some Elves might not have lasted so long with a wound such as that. It is remarkable."
"Indeed. If he is anything alike his older cousin Bilbo he shall rise to what no Halfling has ever come near before. There is much in store for the young hobbit. He shall bear a burden very few could carry."
"You are entangled in his fate somehow, Undómiel," said Glorfindel looking towards her with shining eyes. "I do not know how, yet you are a part of this immense and grand tale. You and Aragorn both."
They were suddenly approached by another Elf who stood at Glorfindel's exact height. He greeted them warmly.
"Master Elrond says to impart to you that we have many guests walking abroad. Greet them as if they were your own kindred for there are Elves of both Mirkwood and the Grey Havens, Dwarves of Erebor, and others who arrive even this day. He said to also tell you of Frodo Baggins for he knows of your interest. The Perian is being healed and shall awaken soon after he is rested completely. The splinter of blade has finally been removed."
"Ai! That is good," said Glorfindel. "Thank you."
The tall Elf nodded his head to them, not without wonder after glancing at Arwen, as he glided across the stone floor away from them. Glorfindel watched him until he could be seen rounding a corner.
"Fair tidings in dark times. I must see Erestor and speak with him briefly, Arwen. Till we meet again." He gave a bend of his long torso and left with a faint smile on his lips. Arwen stared at his receding back. She turned away at last to look out again on the fair valley of Imladris for a moment. She began to walk through the halls.
While she was strolling through the rooms and corridors a tall figure came towards her from the shadows. She looked up quickly to find Legolas Greenleaf standing before her with a warm smile.
He bowed. "Arwen, I did not expect to find you here."
"Legolas! I must say the same for you as well. Why is it you are here in Rivendell? Truly it is a pleasure to see you again though," she said.
He laughed, the sound like calm waves of the sea. "That is good." His face became grave. "The reason I have come is to be seen in time, my friend. Not even Elrond knows of it yet."
Arwen's eyes glinted. "That is rather surprising. He knows everything before anyone else can even know of its existence...till now I guess. Have you spoken with him at all?" Legolas shook his head. "Something is about to happen that will change much in these dark days."
"Yes, I can feel it also; and it all revolves around one thing. The Ring."
Arwen looked around quickly to see if anyone could hear. She hushed him. "That is not something I would speak of so openly, Legolas. Not everyone in Rivendell knows this...thing of the Dark One is here. Some do not even know of the Nazgûl leaving Minas Morgul and riding into the North lands. Elves—though to Men it may seem odd—can worry as well. Their calm, collected shell can be very deceiving as I have figured over the many years of my life."
Legolas laughed lightly once more. "Strange to think of is it not?"
"Yes," Arwen smiled.
Another Elf stepped lightly down the hall. His deep golden hair glinted in the fading sun. Arwen grasped Legolas' arm. "Let us go down this way, my friend." Legolas glanced over at her strangely wondering what was wrong. He asked quietly. "The Elf approaching is called Cemendur of Lothlórien. Trust in me; he is not one you wish to meet with when I am around."
"Does he disfavour you, Arwen? I do not see how that could be," said Legolas watching Cemendur's slow-moving form. He had his eyes lowered to the ground, but his back was as straight as it would go.
Arwen shook her head, dark strands of hair falling about her face. Two small braids amid the rest were tied at the back while all else was let down. She whispered, "Cemendur has taken a strong liking towards me, yet I cannot return his love for I love another. It has broken him to know this; especially when the man I love is a mortal. Do not continue on this way, if you please, or I shall have to leave you. I do not wish to meet with him again after what has occurred." She began to drop behind, but Legolas took her arm in his and pulled her forward.
"Undómiel, you must face your fears," he said with a wide grin. "This Cemendur shall not dare do anything while I am with you. By the look on your face I guess that Aragorn has felt his wrath."
Arwen nodded. "Cemendur hates him. In turn I must scorn Cemendur for it pains me to think of that hate. Hating Aragorn brings my wrath upon him. If he begins to speak to me I might wound him with my sharp tongue; that is what I fear, not him. Legolas...I do not know why you are doing this!"
He continued grinning as they came close enough to Cemendur that he noticed them. Cemendur's bright eyes seemed dim to the light within Legolas' blue depths when he looked up slowly. They widened considerably once he did.
Legolas nodded his head to him. "Cemendur. How fare you?"
Cemendur opened his mouth to speak, yet it closed again after meeting Arwen's keen grey gaze. Legolas watched them carefully. They held that gaze for what seemed a lifetime until Cemendur sighed deeply.
"Arwen Evenstar, I must tell you something important. Your...friend...would excuse us?"
"His name is Legolas of Mirkwood, and he is able to hear anything you must say to me. He is very trustworthy."
Cemendur eyed Legolas warily before speaking anything further. "I have realised something: my heart may be with you, yet yours is not with mine. Because of this I became angry, disconcerted, and...outright furious against the mortal Aragorn. Lately my heart has been speaking to me desperately. Whatever I have done please forgive me for it since I, at length, stopped myself to see what was happening inside, finding the cauldron of terrible feelings and changed this. I may still love you; however, I know you love another still. May you both come together and live long even if death does come to you." He bowed low, his golden hair falling forward over his shoulders.
"Cemendur," Arwen said reaching out a hand to him, "I have always thought you kind, a wonderful Elf. You are still a friend to me if you wish it."
The corners of his mouth turned up with a slight smile, and he took her hand and bowed over it. He straightened once more saying, "Many thanks to you, Evenstar of the Elves. Starlight shines in you and on to me. May the blessings of the Valar go with you."
Arwen thanked him as well when he walked away with a burden lifted from his slim shoulders. His step appeared lighter.
"Legolas...that was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed in all my lifetime."
Legolas chuckled quietly as they continued walking down the enchanting hallways of Rivendell.