Now that I know what AU is and thanks to Julia, why I get to screw up timelines and not feel guilty, I keep second guessing myself. My 'inspiration' thing has all these characters and they all magically have to be in Bree no matter how stupid the reasoning (think Eowyn and Faramir having to meet each other there.) And there's a lot of melodrama- like technically Nazgul should have attacked and such. I was going to write this chapter like we role played it, but I do not like Frodo enough to do so. Maybe if Mark Wahlberg had been cast as a hobbit. So now I have to be brave and do my own plot, which is kind of half assedly formed in my mind right now. Don't hate me. Actually, you'd hate me if I stuck to the original one.
Julia -- Nope, haven't seen Entertainment Weekly yet, but I do have an excuse to go to Barnes and Noble to get Sparknotes for A Tale of Two Cities (wonder if they have one for Silmarillion- it's good but man I am so lost), so maybe I can pick it up there.
rs-- you're too kind :) Thanks for the good review.
Oh, and while I'm in the running for longest A/N yet, how does/did everyone find this fic? Is it some unwritten rule that I'm not allowed to search for myself? I can't find it anywhere, unless it shows up on the 'just in' section or gasp- someone liked me enough to put it as a favorite.
Wait- I'M GOING TO KEEP UPDATING! Don't worry! It makes me laugh... I am not going to quit like I did with my AF fic. I swear. On the precious.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwen let her fork fall back to the plate before her, and set her elbows on the table, interweaving her fingers and resting her chin on them. The other three in the room- those being her father and brothers- were speaking idly of the route back and other superfluous topics.
Raised voices not far away caught all four's attentions- but Arwen was the only one that leaned back in her seat, acknowledging it. They were taking breakfast in a private room that was slightly removed from the common area. A flimsy folding shade was the only partition that divided them for the rest, and even that didn't stretched far enough to hide them fully. Arwen was just able to see into the other room.
The voices seemed to be the result of an argument over a bill and nothing more, but yet Arwen continued to stare, finding anything more interesting that what her father spoke of. A few of the stablehands had come into the bar, their morning chores finished, but were set to work inside immediately. Some of the other help were cleaning the tables and sweeping, and the paying customers were very few at this hour of the morning.
Abruptly, Elrond stood, and beckoned them to follow. Though second to stand, Arwen was the last to exit, pausing a moment to smooth the skirt she wore. It was loose and hunter green, but her tunic was more fitted and of the color of a faded golden leaf... her hair was worn in a bun at the nape of her neck, without any of the customary adornments.
Elrond led the way to the stables, but was distracted ere he reached the doorway. Just as Arwen caught up to her family, Elrond looked to the man who was in the courtyard with his horse, adjusting the saddle with his back to them.
"Nae saian luume', Estel." It has been too long, Aragorn
Aragorn started and then turned around, looking quite surprised, not only that he had been recognized, but also that he himself had not heard them approach. "Mae govannen, heruamin." Well met, my lord
"Good morning," Elrond replied. Elladan and Elrohir were grinning as they greeted the man that they had spent so much time with when they were younger...
"I did not look to find you here," Aragorn said, smiling lightly. The first thought that entered Elrond's mind was that he had not hoped to see Aragorn here, and that the white city of Gondor would be much more suiting, but he refrained. "Only by necessity did we stay here... it's far from desirable conditions"
Aragorn didn't miss that very subtle hint of disapproval. "It pales in comparison to Imladris."
Arwen shifted her weight from foot to foot, shifting her gaze between her father and Estel. Suddenly Estel caught her eye and nodded his head, smiling softly, in a respected greeting, far more tasteful than the last night's encounter. She mimicked him.
Elrond did not miss it, but instead spoke up again to break the silence they had lapsed into. "You ride to where?" He inquired, looking to his foster son's horse.
"Towards Rohan," Aragorn replied, all too quickly to be believable.
"I see. When you return, do remember that Rivendell would not shun you." There was a shade of disappointment in Elrond's eyes.
Aragorn nodded. "I will." He turned to his horse and mounted swiftly. "Tenna' san', namaarie... heruamin, Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen en amin." Until then, farewell... my lord, Elrohir, Elladan, my lady.
He nudged the dark bay beneath him into a walk, exiting the courtyard and straying out of their sight.
Having the gate of Bree shut behind him, Aragorn loosed a sigh, settling in his saddle. His relaxed appearance did no justice to his active mind.
His first encounter with the lady Arwen had been long ago, but still vivid in his mind. He had been just a boy, a newcomer in Rivendell with his mother, Gilraen.
His mother was seated on a bench, gazing out at the scenery wistfully. He was completely engrossed in a book that had been left in their room, laying on the stone tile. It was written entirely in Elvish, but nevertheless he stared at it, determined to make some sense of the markings.
Gilraen's voice shook him out of his concentration. "Arwen is leaving," she said, a tone of sadness in her voice. Aragorn looked up, his attention held briefly by the scene of elves standing about the master's daughter.
"Oh," he replied vaguely.
"Let me see your book," Gilraen said, holding out a hand. Aragorn stood and sat next to her, looking over her shoulder. "This is the Lay of Luthien," she said, another sad smile coming to her face. "She fell in love with a mortal man, Beren."
Aragorn nodded, having heard the names before, but not the story. A rustling behind him made him turn around. A group of horses was passing the low ledge where they sat, with Arwen among them. He stared down over the railing, suddenly curious.
To his absolute embarrassment, the lady suddenly looked up. Her facial expression softened, and as she passed, she spoke only one word for his ears. "Namaarie..." With that, the group picked up a canter, fading from Aragorn's view before he knew it. Farewell
He abruptly turned and sat back down, his face reddening slightly at his mother's expression. "What did she say?" He asked urgently.
Gilraen handed the book back, smiling knowingly. "It would not be a bad thing for you to learn the elven tongue."
She then stood, leaving him speechless and a bit frustrated, but determined. Within two years he had the language mastered.
By midday, the small group had reached Rivendell, but were stayed when they noticed another rider farther up the path. He had dismounted and was looking worriedly at his mount's foreleg. When he heard the leaves crunch underneath more hooves, he glanced up, appearing slightly relieved.
"My lord Elrond?" He called, draping the reins over the bay horse's neck and walking towards them, clutching a letter.
"Yes"
"I have a letter from Galadriel," the blonde haired elf said as he held it up.
Elrond accepted it and opened it there, reading its contents quickly. He sighed, which was surely an ill omen.
"Your horse is hurt?" He began.
"Yes, my lord, he strained his foreleg in the mire we passed through"
"Then you can't possibly ride out again today"
"Not on this horse"
"No matter," Elrond replied, pausing for a long time to think. He had few options, as it were...
A/N: I PROMISE I will update. You don't need to beg me too :-p This letter idea is giving me a headache, I kept changing my mind about it...
A/N: I PROMISE I will update. You don't need to beg me too :-p This letter idea is giving me a headache, I kept changing my mind about it... This actually was a long chapter for me. I think my regular fiction chapters are longer, but yeah. I'm not very descriptive... does anyone have any actual critiques for me? Like writing style wise? My 9th grade english teacher like hated me for no reason... he wasn't very helpful at all.