CHAPTER 2
THE TIME HAS COME
In the farthest confines of Arda, beyond Angmar and the iced peaks of Carn Dûm, past the barren plains of Forodwaith, and well into the frozen lands of the Northern Waste; where neither man nor elf dared to wander; where the nights were perpetual and the winter unyielding; from the entrance of a cave carved into the eternal ice came out a very tall elf, followed closely by a young man, similar to the elf in his prominent height and angular features.
The elf lifted his dark gray eyes to the constantly black sky, the stormy orbs focusing covetously upon the extraordinarily bright stars that formed the belt of the Swordsman of the Sky.
"Your time has come," he said to the young one standing unmoved beside him. "Prepare for journey, my child. We travel down to meet the life of Arda... and your fate."
The young man nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He pulled the hood of his cloak behind his head, revealing his dark hair, fair skin, and his immensely beautiful yet stern face shining with the poignant gray of his eyes.
"My lord, you promised to give me a name as soon as you were sure, as soon as the time came," spoke the young man, his warm breath freezing as soon as it was met with the winds of the Northern Waste.
The elf smiled, mostly to himself, and it was not a warm smile, but one filled with malice. He too pulled back his hood, showing fully, and for the first time in many years, his face under the sky. Grim he was, dark and grim; and old, though his face revealed no real sign of age; only his eyes, filled with a piercing light, overwhelmed by an ancient resentment, an ever- growing anger of many winters.
The elf turned his imposing height to look at the inquiring young one, and his prying eyes lingered upon the small but evident birthmark upon the man's upper lip. It looked like a scar, but it had been there ever since he was born; he could tell, for his very hands had brought him into the world.
"Are you sure of me now, my lord?" insisted the man.
"Ever since you were able to speak you have asked me to name you," answered the dark elf. "Now I have seen the signs and I am sure; therefore, I shall give you a name."
The elf gave little thought, as if remembering something deep within the shadows of a long gone past. "From now and on, you shall be called Neithan, the wronged one."
"Neithan...." repeated the young man slowly, pleased with his new name.
The dark elf let out a quiet sneer. "Do not grow too fond of your name, for you shall be called with many names, far greater and glorious than the one you now hold, and before the sound of all of them our enemies shall stumble and cower back in fear."
Not really understanding the words, Neithan nodded his gratitude to his lord and went back inside the cave to prepare the announced journey. Though the way he had been raised was against all useless emotion, he could not help to feel somewhat eager, for he had never seen beyond the barren ice of the Northern Waste, and he longed to see the world.
Still outside the cave, the dark elf looked up to Menelmakar once more, the corners of his mouth curving in the same malicious smile. "Soon, my child, you shall walk among those who wronged us, the earth will tremble beneath your feet, and you will deliver the wrath of our revenge. My doubts about you are gone, and now I am sure the prophecy I have guarded with my life has come to be."
..................................
The radiant light of the morning sun collided against the fair walls of Minas Tirith, the majesty of the city boasting in a display of brightness that repeated itself every morning since the restoration of the glory of the old days. Fast the city had flourished under the wise scepter of Elessar King, only three years into the fourth age, and five after the War of the Ring, and the city held peace and wealth not seen since the days of the Numenorean first rulers.
The Queen of Gondor and Arnor, Arwen, daughter of Elrond Peredhil, Evenstar of the firstborn, gazed upon the teeming life gathering on the streets of the White City below her chamber's window. The residents incorporated into their daily occupations without concern, feeling safe inside the powerful walls, protected under the ever-watching eyes of the Army of the White Tree.
She would have liked to feel so safe, so unworried about the future. But a threat grew in her mind with every day that passed, like the shadow of an unseen predator that haunted every waking hour of her life. Only when the strong arms of her husband surrounded her lithe frame could she feel safe and oblivious to the cares of fate, only the sooth of his voice whispering into her ear could chase away the ghouls of her fret. And those times alone with him were cherished beyond anything else, for he was her shelter, the rock she could cling to and rely on in the midst of a world where she did not belong, a world filled with uncertainty.
But lately she had been deprived of many of those moments, as rumors of confrontation started rising in the southern borders, and the King's time was mostly dedicated to the peaceful solution of the conflict.
She had overheard some details, while walking near the site of a meeting. The Easterlings were venturing into the territories of Khand and Harad, arising litigation against the Southrons, and claiming the lands as theirs. Being the land in dispute so near to the borders of Gondor and Arnor, the Nobles of Minas Tirith grew worried, and deliberated on a way to secure their own land.
The deep blue of her eyes lingered upon the pearly white of the Tower of Ecthelion and the well-guarded walls. Her mind told her to be at peace, and that nothing would disturb her life with Aragorn; but her heart told her otherwise. Being the daughter of Elrond Peredhil, she had some of his gift of foreseeing the turns of the future, and Arwen remembered how the Easterlings had allied to Sauron in the War of the Ring, and heard of their greed and covetousness for power.
Even when the spring morning sun reached inside the window where she stood, a shiver forced it's way up her spine and to her neck, and she enfolded her shoulders with her arms, feeling weak once again.
She tried to regain composure as she heard light steps approaching her from behind, and breathing in deeply, she straightened her back and rose her chin, for she could not afford to be seen in such falter of her spirit. Her visitor approached slowly and without revealing his identity, but as he was close to her, Arwen could sense the unmistakable scent of her beloved husband.
Before she could turn to greet him, he hurried to envelope her with his arms, bringing her close to him, and planting a kiss upon the back of her neck. Arwen reached back to caress his rough face, leaning on him contentedly, relishing in the sense of homeliness that only his broad chest gave her, and that she so desperately needed.
"Good morning, my Queen," he said, burying his nose into the fragrance of her long, dark tresses and breathing in deeply, feeling like he had been deep into the dark and troubled waters of life as a king, and could just until now come back to a sunny surface and breathe again.
"Good morning," she answered, trying to appear jovial. She did not want to worry him with her cares, for his own were great enough, and she believed that any time spent with him was not about concerns but about joy.
Aragorn stepped forward to stand by her side, putting his arm around her shoulder almost possessively while Arwen continued to stare at the city coming to life beneath them. His eyes, however, belonged only to her perfect face, for being so close to her, nothing else mattered, and his duties as king were promptly forgotten.
"You seem deep in contemplation," he said, scrutinizing her face. "Is there anything bothering you?"
Arwen flinched inwardly, fearing he could see past her façade. "No, my lord," she hurried to answer, and tearing her eyes from the city below, she turned to look at him with a bright smile.
The King was no fool, and he raised an eyebrow, trying to interpret her behavior, but all analysis was soon forgotten as her petal-soft lips pressed against his mouth in a warm kiss that grew in time and depth.
Arwen parted from him, and much to his enjoyment, she glanced briefly but suggestively towards the ample royal bed, the soft, luxurious bedclothes appearing more inviting than ever. Long it had been, too long.
Then, Aragorn seemed to have been hit by some sort of realization, and he groaned in sheer disappointment. "Oh Valar!" he practically whined, while pulling away from Arwen's needful embrace. "I forgot that I came to give you news."
Arwen sighed with resignation. "News?"
"Aye," said Aragorn, a coy smile upon his angular face. "And for some reason, as I was coming to tell you they seemed like wonderful news, but now.... not so much."
Arwen let out a small laughter, seeing the boyish shyness in the otherwise solemn face of her husband; she felt glad he could still manage to amuse her. "Well, are you going to tell me the news or are you planning to stand there and stare forever?"
Aragorn cleared his throat. "Visitors have been announced," he said, the dignity of his position returning to his voice. "Very welcomed and cherished visitors from the west."
Arwen's heart skipped a beat. For a time that had seemed endless she had waited to hear from very special visitors from the west, but the party she so longed for never came. Resignation took the place of anxiety, for she suddenly remembered the exact day and hour when she, from afar, felt their presence fade from Arda, with no last embrace, no last goodbye. Whoever these visitors from the west were, she was sure it was not her father, nor her brothers.
A shadow of sorrow fell over her, but she was gracious enough to ask. "And who could these visitors be?"
Aragorn, on the other hand, seemed rather enthusiastic. "Come with me, and see for yourself," he said, taking her hand and urging her to follow.
Arwen let show her reluctance to tend guests, feeling her current mood wasn't exactly the best to entertain. "I was hoping to spend some time on my own. if you don't mind," she said, as carefully as she could, hoping not to raise too many questions from the King.
"I am afraid I cannot comply to you in this occasion, love, for their deeds and position, our guests must be highly honored, and they specifically asked to see us both, specially you, since they bring you word," Aragorn said, the authority in his words leaving no space for contestation.
Arwen then, had no choice but to follow; yet deep inside she was intrigued to know what word could these visitors bring for her.
.......................................
Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took stood in the middle of a splendidly illuminated assembly room in Minas Tirith. Brought in by Royal Guards, they awaited for the arrival of their old friend Strider and the fairest of all, Lady Arwen.
Pippin turned around slowly, his head raised and his mouth half open in awe while contemplating the magnificence of Gondor's architecture, while Merry paced around and entertained himself with a good puff of pipe weed.
"What is taking them so long?" Merry said impatiently, snapping Pippin out of his wonderment.
"What?" Pippin managed to articulate, while his mind transited from wondering about the size and brilliance of the room to his constant and everlasting concern. "Maybe they are having breakfast, and decided not to share it with us."
Merry was tempted to give his cousin a good whack in the head, but then again, he was a hobbit, too. "Maybe you are right. I mean, here we are, exhausted and starved from an endless journey, and nobody in this enormous city has even cared to offer us something to ease our famine."
"You are right!" added Pippin. "That would never happen inside a hobbit hole, I tell you, never!"
All their thoughts and growling stomachs were at once forgotten as the King and Queen of Gondor entered the hall, the same striking brilliance of the room reflecting from their very beings. Once again, Pippin found his mouth half open from the awe of seeing them together, but this time, his wonderment was joined by Merry's own admiration.
As soon as she entered the room, Arwen's eyes found the two tallest, most daring and cheerful hobbits ever to exist; and she was glad to admit that the mere sight of them brought great delight to her heart.
The two hobbits lowered their heads and kneeled before the royal couple, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the mere presence of their splendor; for even when they had seen them together before, in the glorious day of their blessed wedding, it seemed to them that the majesty of the King and Queen of Gondor heightened even more as time passed.
Arwen let out a small cry, and hurried herself towards them. "No, Master Peregrin, Master Meriadoc! Please rise. Rise, my dear friends, and let me see your faces."
Aragorn too had hurried to stand before them, and as he reached them, he dropped to his knees and brought the two little heroes to his chest in a tight embrace. Then, he pulled back and, keeping them on arm's reach, he studied their faces.
"It is most joyous to see you again, Peregrin, Thain of the Shire; and Meriadoc, Master of Buckland," the King whispered softly, his words filled with emotion and his head bowed in respect.
At loss for words, the two hobbits managed only to nod, while Aragorn's strong arms aided them to stand on their feet again.
Arwen then came forward, and regarding them with fond eyes she spoke. "Allow me to greet as you well deserve, my lords." And bowing down, she planted a kiss upon each of their brows.
Then she straightened, and a smile graced her already stunning face, an honest, heartfelt smile. "Forgive us for keeping you waiting so long; I am to be blamed for that. But for my defense, I did not know it was you who had come," she said, glaring at an innocent-looking Aragorn.
Merry and Pippin felt their faces grow red from awkwardness, and it was Pippin who came forward and took the Lady's hand between his own small ones. "Please! Think nothing of it, dear lady."
Then, as the young hobbit raised his face to look at her, Arwen saw a shade of seriousness she had never seen in Pippin's joyous eyes.
"My lady," he said softly and solemnly. "The main reason why we are here is to bring you word from your father, Lord Elrond."
Arwen would have fallen to her knees if it weren't for Aragorn's opportune intervention; slipping an arm around her waist, he kept her from faltering.
Merry finally found his words as well. "We would have come much sooner," he said, his words as sober as Pippin's. "We would have come as soon as Lord Elrond requested it from us upon his parting from the Grey Havens; but the Shire takes its amount of care, and much was to be done before we could leave; and the journey was long, so long."
Aragorn felt Arwen's body beginning to tremble, and saw as her face paled unnaturally. The mention of her father was affecting her deeply, and he feared she was to faint or to break down in weep imminently.
"Let us not talk about this here," he said, trying to lift the heavy air from around them. "Let us go to the city gardens to enjoy a fine breakfast, then you can tell us all about it over a fine meal." He saw the hobbits' faces brightening upon the mention of a meal. "I am sure you both must be starving after such a long journey."
"Oh, do not worry, my dear Strider," Merry said with a wide smile. "We just had our first breakfast; just outside the city walls."
Aragorn's brow furrowed. "Master Merry, Master Pippin.... do you not want to join us for breakfast then?"
Pippin opened his mouth to state his opinion on the matter, but was quickly cut by his cousin's stare, and decided to keep silence.
Merry then slapped Aragorn's back cordially, starting once again to feel familiar with him. "But of course we will join you. We would not even think about rejecting an invitation from the King of Gondor. Right, Pippin?"
"Oh no! We could never be so rude Merry, never!"
Aragorn could not suppress a knowing smile. "This way, gentlemen," he said showing them the exit to the gardens. And while the two hobbits walked out, chattering obliviously, he gathered Arwen tightly in his arms. "Are you well?" he whispered, concerned.
Arwen took a deep breath to steady herself before parting from his arms. "I will be," she said, making haste towards the gardens, anxious to hear the words her father had for her. After years of silence, pain and uncertainty, she was finally going to know why her father had left her without a last goodbye.
.......................................
Author Notes:
I am finding very hard to stick to the books' timeline and events, I think I am going to be forced to put AU in this very soon. Too bad! I so wanted to stick to Tolkien. Darn my mind that travels so far!
Visual Help: I don't know if this helps, but besides the known LotR characters (which would look just like in the movies) I have a visual idea of actors who would represent the characters not portrayed in the movies. So in this chapter, this is the "Casting":
The Dark Elf : Jason Isaacs (from "The Patriot"), long, dark hair, gray eyes.
Neithan: Joaquin Phoenix (Everybody knows him), only much taller.
Let me know what you think about this Visual Help thing, if you like it, I will keep on doing it with any further major character that appears in the fic.
Thank you.
Elwe.
THE TIME HAS COME
In the farthest confines of Arda, beyond Angmar and the iced peaks of Carn Dûm, past the barren plains of Forodwaith, and well into the frozen lands of the Northern Waste; where neither man nor elf dared to wander; where the nights were perpetual and the winter unyielding; from the entrance of a cave carved into the eternal ice came out a very tall elf, followed closely by a young man, similar to the elf in his prominent height and angular features.
The elf lifted his dark gray eyes to the constantly black sky, the stormy orbs focusing covetously upon the extraordinarily bright stars that formed the belt of the Swordsman of the Sky.
"Your time has come," he said to the young one standing unmoved beside him. "Prepare for journey, my child. We travel down to meet the life of Arda... and your fate."
The young man nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He pulled the hood of his cloak behind his head, revealing his dark hair, fair skin, and his immensely beautiful yet stern face shining with the poignant gray of his eyes.
"My lord, you promised to give me a name as soon as you were sure, as soon as the time came," spoke the young man, his warm breath freezing as soon as it was met with the winds of the Northern Waste.
The elf smiled, mostly to himself, and it was not a warm smile, but one filled with malice. He too pulled back his hood, showing fully, and for the first time in many years, his face under the sky. Grim he was, dark and grim; and old, though his face revealed no real sign of age; only his eyes, filled with a piercing light, overwhelmed by an ancient resentment, an ever- growing anger of many winters.
The elf turned his imposing height to look at the inquiring young one, and his prying eyes lingered upon the small but evident birthmark upon the man's upper lip. It looked like a scar, but it had been there ever since he was born; he could tell, for his very hands had brought him into the world.
"Are you sure of me now, my lord?" insisted the man.
"Ever since you were able to speak you have asked me to name you," answered the dark elf. "Now I have seen the signs and I am sure; therefore, I shall give you a name."
The elf gave little thought, as if remembering something deep within the shadows of a long gone past. "From now and on, you shall be called Neithan, the wronged one."
"Neithan...." repeated the young man slowly, pleased with his new name.
The dark elf let out a quiet sneer. "Do not grow too fond of your name, for you shall be called with many names, far greater and glorious than the one you now hold, and before the sound of all of them our enemies shall stumble and cower back in fear."
Not really understanding the words, Neithan nodded his gratitude to his lord and went back inside the cave to prepare the announced journey. Though the way he had been raised was against all useless emotion, he could not help to feel somewhat eager, for he had never seen beyond the barren ice of the Northern Waste, and he longed to see the world.
Still outside the cave, the dark elf looked up to Menelmakar once more, the corners of his mouth curving in the same malicious smile. "Soon, my child, you shall walk among those who wronged us, the earth will tremble beneath your feet, and you will deliver the wrath of our revenge. My doubts about you are gone, and now I am sure the prophecy I have guarded with my life has come to be."
..................................
The radiant light of the morning sun collided against the fair walls of Minas Tirith, the majesty of the city boasting in a display of brightness that repeated itself every morning since the restoration of the glory of the old days. Fast the city had flourished under the wise scepter of Elessar King, only three years into the fourth age, and five after the War of the Ring, and the city held peace and wealth not seen since the days of the Numenorean first rulers.
The Queen of Gondor and Arnor, Arwen, daughter of Elrond Peredhil, Evenstar of the firstborn, gazed upon the teeming life gathering on the streets of the White City below her chamber's window. The residents incorporated into their daily occupations without concern, feeling safe inside the powerful walls, protected under the ever-watching eyes of the Army of the White Tree.
She would have liked to feel so safe, so unworried about the future. But a threat grew in her mind with every day that passed, like the shadow of an unseen predator that haunted every waking hour of her life. Only when the strong arms of her husband surrounded her lithe frame could she feel safe and oblivious to the cares of fate, only the sooth of his voice whispering into her ear could chase away the ghouls of her fret. And those times alone with him were cherished beyond anything else, for he was her shelter, the rock she could cling to and rely on in the midst of a world where she did not belong, a world filled with uncertainty.
But lately she had been deprived of many of those moments, as rumors of confrontation started rising in the southern borders, and the King's time was mostly dedicated to the peaceful solution of the conflict.
She had overheard some details, while walking near the site of a meeting. The Easterlings were venturing into the territories of Khand and Harad, arising litigation against the Southrons, and claiming the lands as theirs. Being the land in dispute so near to the borders of Gondor and Arnor, the Nobles of Minas Tirith grew worried, and deliberated on a way to secure their own land.
The deep blue of her eyes lingered upon the pearly white of the Tower of Ecthelion and the well-guarded walls. Her mind told her to be at peace, and that nothing would disturb her life with Aragorn; but her heart told her otherwise. Being the daughter of Elrond Peredhil, she had some of his gift of foreseeing the turns of the future, and Arwen remembered how the Easterlings had allied to Sauron in the War of the Ring, and heard of their greed and covetousness for power.
Even when the spring morning sun reached inside the window where she stood, a shiver forced it's way up her spine and to her neck, and she enfolded her shoulders with her arms, feeling weak once again.
She tried to regain composure as she heard light steps approaching her from behind, and breathing in deeply, she straightened her back and rose her chin, for she could not afford to be seen in such falter of her spirit. Her visitor approached slowly and without revealing his identity, but as he was close to her, Arwen could sense the unmistakable scent of her beloved husband.
Before she could turn to greet him, he hurried to envelope her with his arms, bringing her close to him, and planting a kiss upon the back of her neck. Arwen reached back to caress his rough face, leaning on him contentedly, relishing in the sense of homeliness that only his broad chest gave her, and that she so desperately needed.
"Good morning, my Queen," he said, burying his nose into the fragrance of her long, dark tresses and breathing in deeply, feeling like he had been deep into the dark and troubled waters of life as a king, and could just until now come back to a sunny surface and breathe again.
"Good morning," she answered, trying to appear jovial. She did not want to worry him with her cares, for his own were great enough, and she believed that any time spent with him was not about concerns but about joy.
Aragorn stepped forward to stand by her side, putting his arm around her shoulder almost possessively while Arwen continued to stare at the city coming to life beneath them. His eyes, however, belonged only to her perfect face, for being so close to her, nothing else mattered, and his duties as king were promptly forgotten.
"You seem deep in contemplation," he said, scrutinizing her face. "Is there anything bothering you?"
Arwen flinched inwardly, fearing he could see past her façade. "No, my lord," she hurried to answer, and tearing her eyes from the city below, she turned to look at him with a bright smile.
The King was no fool, and he raised an eyebrow, trying to interpret her behavior, but all analysis was soon forgotten as her petal-soft lips pressed against his mouth in a warm kiss that grew in time and depth.
Arwen parted from him, and much to his enjoyment, she glanced briefly but suggestively towards the ample royal bed, the soft, luxurious bedclothes appearing more inviting than ever. Long it had been, too long.
Then, Aragorn seemed to have been hit by some sort of realization, and he groaned in sheer disappointment. "Oh Valar!" he practically whined, while pulling away from Arwen's needful embrace. "I forgot that I came to give you news."
Arwen sighed with resignation. "News?"
"Aye," said Aragorn, a coy smile upon his angular face. "And for some reason, as I was coming to tell you they seemed like wonderful news, but now.... not so much."
Arwen let out a small laughter, seeing the boyish shyness in the otherwise solemn face of her husband; she felt glad he could still manage to amuse her. "Well, are you going to tell me the news or are you planning to stand there and stare forever?"
Aragorn cleared his throat. "Visitors have been announced," he said, the dignity of his position returning to his voice. "Very welcomed and cherished visitors from the west."
Arwen's heart skipped a beat. For a time that had seemed endless she had waited to hear from very special visitors from the west, but the party she so longed for never came. Resignation took the place of anxiety, for she suddenly remembered the exact day and hour when she, from afar, felt their presence fade from Arda, with no last embrace, no last goodbye. Whoever these visitors from the west were, she was sure it was not her father, nor her brothers.
A shadow of sorrow fell over her, but she was gracious enough to ask. "And who could these visitors be?"
Aragorn, on the other hand, seemed rather enthusiastic. "Come with me, and see for yourself," he said, taking her hand and urging her to follow.
Arwen let show her reluctance to tend guests, feeling her current mood wasn't exactly the best to entertain. "I was hoping to spend some time on my own. if you don't mind," she said, as carefully as she could, hoping not to raise too many questions from the King.
"I am afraid I cannot comply to you in this occasion, love, for their deeds and position, our guests must be highly honored, and they specifically asked to see us both, specially you, since they bring you word," Aragorn said, the authority in his words leaving no space for contestation.
Arwen then, had no choice but to follow; yet deep inside she was intrigued to know what word could these visitors bring for her.
.......................................
Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took stood in the middle of a splendidly illuminated assembly room in Minas Tirith. Brought in by Royal Guards, they awaited for the arrival of their old friend Strider and the fairest of all, Lady Arwen.
Pippin turned around slowly, his head raised and his mouth half open in awe while contemplating the magnificence of Gondor's architecture, while Merry paced around and entertained himself with a good puff of pipe weed.
"What is taking them so long?" Merry said impatiently, snapping Pippin out of his wonderment.
"What?" Pippin managed to articulate, while his mind transited from wondering about the size and brilliance of the room to his constant and everlasting concern. "Maybe they are having breakfast, and decided not to share it with us."
Merry was tempted to give his cousin a good whack in the head, but then again, he was a hobbit, too. "Maybe you are right. I mean, here we are, exhausted and starved from an endless journey, and nobody in this enormous city has even cared to offer us something to ease our famine."
"You are right!" added Pippin. "That would never happen inside a hobbit hole, I tell you, never!"
All their thoughts and growling stomachs were at once forgotten as the King and Queen of Gondor entered the hall, the same striking brilliance of the room reflecting from their very beings. Once again, Pippin found his mouth half open from the awe of seeing them together, but this time, his wonderment was joined by Merry's own admiration.
As soon as she entered the room, Arwen's eyes found the two tallest, most daring and cheerful hobbits ever to exist; and she was glad to admit that the mere sight of them brought great delight to her heart.
The two hobbits lowered their heads and kneeled before the royal couple, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the mere presence of their splendor; for even when they had seen them together before, in the glorious day of their blessed wedding, it seemed to them that the majesty of the King and Queen of Gondor heightened even more as time passed.
Arwen let out a small cry, and hurried herself towards them. "No, Master Peregrin, Master Meriadoc! Please rise. Rise, my dear friends, and let me see your faces."
Aragorn too had hurried to stand before them, and as he reached them, he dropped to his knees and brought the two little heroes to his chest in a tight embrace. Then, he pulled back and, keeping them on arm's reach, he studied their faces.
"It is most joyous to see you again, Peregrin, Thain of the Shire; and Meriadoc, Master of Buckland," the King whispered softly, his words filled with emotion and his head bowed in respect.
At loss for words, the two hobbits managed only to nod, while Aragorn's strong arms aided them to stand on their feet again.
Arwen then came forward, and regarding them with fond eyes she spoke. "Allow me to greet as you well deserve, my lords." And bowing down, she planted a kiss upon each of their brows.
Then she straightened, and a smile graced her already stunning face, an honest, heartfelt smile. "Forgive us for keeping you waiting so long; I am to be blamed for that. But for my defense, I did not know it was you who had come," she said, glaring at an innocent-looking Aragorn.
Merry and Pippin felt their faces grow red from awkwardness, and it was Pippin who came forward and took the Lady's hand between his own small ones. "Please! Think nothing of it, dear lady."
Then, as the young hobbit raised his face to look at her, Arwen saw a shade of seriousness she had never seen in Pippin's joyous eyes.
"My lady," he said softly and solemnly. "The main reason why we are here is to bring you word from your father, Lord Elrond."
Arwen would have fallen to her knees if it weren't for Aragorn's opportune intervention; slipping an arm around her waist, he kept her from faltering.
Merry finally found his words as well. "We would have come much sooner," he said, his words as sober as Pippin's. "We would have come as soon as Lord Elrond requested it from us upon his parting from the Grey Havens; but the Shire takes its amount of care, and much was to be done before we could leave; and the journey was long, so long."
Aragorn felt Arwen's body beginning to tremble, and saw as her face paled unnaturally. The mention of her father was affecting her deeply, and he feared she was to faint or to break down in weep imminently.
"Let us not talk about this here," he said, trying to lift the heavy air from around them. "Let us go to the city gardens to enjoy a fine breakfast, then you can tell us all about it over a fine meal." He saw the hobbits' faces brightening upon the mention of a meal. "I am sure you both must be starving after such a long journey."
"Oh, do not worry, my dear Strider," Merry said with a wide smile. "We just had our first breakfast; just outside the city walls."
Aragorn's brow furrowed. "Master Merry, Master Pippin.... do you not want to join us for breakfast then?"
Pippin opened his mouth to state his opinion on the matter, but was quickly cut by his cousin's stare, and decided to keep silence.
Merry then slapped Aragorn's back cordially, starting once again to feel familiar with him. "But of course we will join you. We would not even think about rejecting an invitation from the King of Gondor. Right, Pippin?"
"Oh no! We could never be so rude Merry, never!"
Aragorn could not suppress a knowing smile. "This way, gentlemen," he said showing them the exit to the gardens. And while the two hobbits walked out, chattering obliviously, he gathered Arwen tightly in his arms. "Are you well?" he whispered, concerned.
Arwen took a deep breath to steady herself before parting from his arms. "I will be," she said, making haste towards the gardens, anxious to hear the words her father had for her. After years of silence, pain and uncertainty, she was finally going to know why her father had left her without a last goodbye.
.......................................
Author Notes:
I am finding very hard to stick to the books' timeline and events, I think I am going to be forced to put AU in this very soon. Too bad! I so wanted to stick to Tolkien. Darn my mind that travels so far!
Visual Help: I don't know if this helps, but besides the known LotR characters (which would look just like in the movies) I have a visual idea of actors who would represent the characters not portrayed in the movies. So in this chapter, this is the "Casting":
The Dark Elf : Jason Isaacs (from "The Patriot"), long, dark hair, gray eyes.
Neithan: Joaquin Phoenix (Everybody knows him), only much taller.
Let me know what you think about this Visual Help thing, if you like it, I will keep on doing it with any further major character that appears in the fic.
Thank you.
Elwe.