...
~ Rivendell ~
It was a long arduous fortnight from the Ettenmoor Hills down to Rivendell, and Elraen often straggled far behind the wizard most of the way, and he only allowed them to stop to sleep a few hours a day. The weather was bleak and dreary, and her grief and confusion began to weigh heavily again on her spirit, and she grew very weary. After many days at last they reached the valley of the Last Homely House around midday, descending upon it from the north. After introductions Gandalf straight away busied about meeting in private with Lord Elrond while Elraen was shown to a guest room. She washed up and was asleep almost as soon as she lay down, and she slept long.
The following morning she woke feeling refreshed, cheered by the warmth and beauty of the valley and the merry singing of the elves. She put on the fair blue dress she brought from the Havens, for her travel wear had already been taken for cleaning. Gandalf went with her to Elrond's chambers. Again she told her story just as she had told it to Gandalf, saying only that she was the daughter of one of the princes of the Southern Kingdom and her foster father feared for her acceptance there. She handed Elrond the sword in its sheath.
He held it, looking at it long, as though the sight of it stirred some ancient memories.
"Do you know it, Master Elrond?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "I do know this sword. For it was wrought here in Rivendell."
Elraen was speechless, looking at him astonished. Even Gandalf was surprised.
"It was a gift to Elendil in honor of the Last Alliance. When Elendil fell Isildur received Narsil, and he gave this to Anarion's heir Meneldil. The southern kings were afterward buried with their long swords, but this became an heirloom passed down the line of Anarion as a memorial token of the Alliance. As the kings always preferred their long swords it would often remain rather forgotten in the royal treasury, or so I last heard many years ago when the northern kingdom still flourished. But some would take both to the field or let a princeling son wear it. Earnur the last king I remember had desired to carry both to battle here in the north and complained of his discovery that his father had hidden it from him."
"Well then, Lady Elraen," said Elrond, handing back the sword. "While there are none now left to attest to your story, I have no doubt that you are who you say, if only by the good word of Master Cirdan borne here recently by Lord Galdor. More than that, pending a look at the books of ancestry of the Kingdoms in Exile, it seems plain that you are indeed one of the last remaining heirs of the Royal House. What is it then that you ask of me?"
Elraen thought for a long moment. She was never sure what to expect once she completed the journey, and stammered a little to get out the words. "Well, I cannot quite say, Master Elrond. I never knew my mother and father, or anyone of Gondor, other than Lord Artamir. I barely knew anyone in Rohan. With his dying breath he gave me this sword and counseled that I seek the wise among the Elves. I had no ideas of what I thought might come of it. But I found myself at a loss, with no country, no family, and nowhere else to go. So now, I am here."
The wise lore master was not unmoved, and took pity on the girl. "Fear not, child. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. And you do indeed have kin here still in the north of great worth whom you might like to meet. But soon other tales will be told and questions asked and decisions made. You may then find the guidance you seek."
*.*.*
Later that day she was approached by little Bilbo at Gandalf's request. He showed her around, going on almost breathlessly, making introductions and going over histories of the north of Middle-Earth including in-depth lessons on the Shire. Old Bilbo also went through all he knew of the Northern Dunadan Aragorn's family history and personal story.
'Isildur the elder,' Elraen thought to herself, 'So there is another heir after all, of an unbroken line at that. Betrothed as well, to hear Bilbo tell it.' Whatever reason she ended up here, it was not about the throne of Gondor, as regnant nor consort. For her part she was actually rather relieved, but now what? She felt more lost than ever.
Early the following evening there arose quite a commotion through the great house, with bells sounding and echoing about the hills. Elraen was walking again with Bilbo, wearing now a dark green dress gifted from the elves of Rivendell, preparing to head for supper. All of a sudden Elrond came rushing through, his path then met by Gandalf. From another direction came Erestor. Elraen and Bilbo walked up to the urgent meeting. "They approach!" said Erestor. "And the Nine are close at hand!"
"I shall go out with your lords to help the guard," said Gandalf. Elrond nodded in agreement.
"I can help you!" Elraen jumped in.
"No!" Gandalf snapped anxiously as he was turning to go. "It is beyond you to stop them."
"It isn't!" she protested.
The wizard then paused and looked at her in surprise, as did Elrond, for they found it a very strange response. Both of the wise old men knew well that the girl had recently faced four of them alone on Weathertop Hill. It could not simply be the foolhardiness of youth and inexperience that would explain such a lack of fear.
There was no time to argue. "There will be no need," said Gandalf. "They will not cross the Ford!" And with that he dashed away.
"Lady Elraen," said Elrond, starting to wonder if her foster-father had been right indeed about the return of Westernesse, now not just in one heir but two. This one of the broken line of Elendil's second-born of a kingdom with a more complicated history of rule, but another heir nonetheless. She clearly must have some role to play, if he could not see it. Or she could simply be foolishly over-bold like the last king of Gondor. "I will go up to the high balcony. You may come with me to watch if you like."
"Go on, then!" said Bilbo. "We shall meet again later. I am no longer a match for those stairs."
Off she followed him to the far south end of the great house, where they passed through a door tucked away at the end of a dim quiet hall cut into a hillside. This led to a tunnel which eventually reached a set of spiraling stairs. Up they climbed several flights until at last they found themselves out on a small balcony. Set into a steep face of rocky hillside facing west from the valley's outer hills it was not very high, but from it you could still see south and west for many miles. It was cut rather cleverly, so an onlooker could not easily spot it from below. Elrond stood with his hands resting on the low stone balcony wall. And down along the river a ways off to the southwest in the distance Elraen saw the deadly game unfolding, the elf lords of Rivendell rushing toward the river ford. Moments later there came the great rushing flood. She let out a sigh in relief as they watched the rapids bear the enemies away on the river floods. Elrond felt a curious wave of calm rush over him that he could not explain, and almost thought a warm glow swelled up behind him. But he looked over at the young mortal and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The next day the leaders among them were all very busy in treating and tending to Frodo. Not sure what else to do while they were all waiting, Elraen took her sword to Elrond's library to find what she could of the patterns, markings, and names on the scabbard, and go over the histories of the northern kingdoms. She still felt in her heart there was a reason she was here, something she was meant to do, and dug through the lore books hunting for an answer.
Before she left, there in the library she came across a very large tapestry, its embroidery wrought into a beautiful scene of lush plains amid which was a great hill, where stood a pair of enormous trees with pale pools at their feet. The sight struck her, and Elraen felt a twinge of sorrow come over her, and she stood staring at it a long time.
When the afternoon waned she wandered out onto one of the patios and gazed at the waterfalls a long while, the sword in its sheath slung over her shoulder. She pulled out the wand from the pouch strapped to her arm under her sleeve and held it in her hands. She stood, thinking of Lord Artamir, and her strange journey, and Lord Cirdan, wondering for what reason fate might have led her here. The skies grew overcast, and a faint misty drizzle fell upon the valley.
"Miss Elraen?" came a voice from behind.
Bilbo. "A pleasure to see you again, my friend," she said, slipping the little silver rod discreetly into the deep pocket of her dress. "How fares your nephew?" she said quietly as she turned around. Her surprise was caught by the sight of a tall man standing by him.
"Master Elrond reports he is out of danger now, though still resting," replied the little old hobbit. "Thank you for asking. I have brought someone I thought you would like to meet."
"Lord Aragorn, I assume," she said softly, bowing her head with a small curtsy. She knew who it was, for he was just as Bilbo had described, tall and scruff from many hard years in the wild but with a kind and kingly expression that inspired admiration from all who met him, and a sad and years-worn longing behind patient eyes.
The Ranger saw before him a fair young girl just come of age, who bore much the same solemn and statuesque manner as did his people, yet there seemed to be something else he could not quite describe. There was a lofty and rather Elvish air he sensed about her that was difficult to read. Behind her melancholy façade he sensed it, and he felt it lift his spirits a bit. In this way she rather reminded him of Gandalf.
"It seems Bilbo has told you of me," the Ranger said kindly with a bow of his head. "He has told me of you also. As has Master Elrond and Lord Galdor. The honor is mine."
"Forgive me, my lass, I have already told him much of your story," added Bilbo. "He is quite interested to see your sword."
"You are forgiven," said Elraen as she handed it over, "for I am weary of telling it."
"Remarkable!" said the Ranger quietly as he unsheathed the fine weapon and looked it over. "Tell me, young lady," he went on, "did your foster-father send you here because he believed you to be the heir to the throne of Gondor?"
His tone was not aggressive but gentle and inquisitive. She looked at him in wonder for a moment, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, and cast down her gaze.
Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. "My dear lord Aragorn," he began to protest, but Elraen interrupted. "It's alright, Bilbo," she said.
She lifted her head and sighed. "I suppose that part was not hard to guess," she replied. "Yes, he said as much, if no heir of Isildur appeared from the north. Yet, here you are."
"Here I am," he said with a smile. "And what is it that you want?" he asked, watching her face carefully.
She looked at him for a long moment, as if searching herself for an answer to the question. "Well, lord, I don't quite know really," she started haltingly, and looked down, fidgeting a bit, and paused in thought for a moment. She sensed the roots of humility and service with which he led, and felt the loyalty and inspiration that most all felt thereupon meeting him, and then an urge to follow him into whatever darkness and danger his road might lead. Then she stood now more resolute and said, "I want to help you. I do not yet know how, but I think it will not be from here."
He smiled warmly. "There are some left of the royal house in the world, Lady, but not very many. If your foster-father feared for your welcome in the south, be assured you are welcome here." The Ranger pondered the odd girl, whose words and manner belied her young face, but he knew the child had already been through much grief and toil for her short years. "You should think of a name for this," he said, handing the sword back to her.
The next morning the Chief of the Dunedain awoke in wonder at memories of fair and bewildering dreams of walking the gardens of a grand palace, and seeing a lone mountain peak with the cone flattened just near the top when he looked westward. Wandering through the palace, he could see a fair city sprawling out on the hillsides beyond, and looking eastward he saw a harbor town by the sea in the distance, and knew he could not be any other place than Armenolos, the chief city of the downfallen West. In his dream, as he walked joyous and spellbound by the sight, he remembered stopping to notice the wind singing sweetly through its lush gardens of great trees, and the cheer it brought to his heart.
*.*.*
At the feast that night Elraen wore some of the fine gifts from her stay at the Havens, and was seated among the other dwarves and hobbits (whom she had by now gotten to know fairly well), by where Bilbo was expected to be, although he was not there. But during the evening singing in the hall of fire she found the elves of the Havens, to her delight as she knew few familiar faces in the great house of Elrond. They were happy to see her again, being still quite fascinated by all they had seen and heard from their friends among the sailors, and not the least because of Master Cirdan's interest in her. They even persuaded her to contribute for the crowd the song of the Western Mariners to the Lady of the Seas. Amidst her grief she was cheered by their friendliness, and obliged them, singing the song in full to the surprise and delight of the crowd. She was so well received they asked for more, and so borrowing a lute in which she had some learning in playing, she sang a song of the Rohirrim to Lord Bema.
During the merrymaking in the great hall the Elves of the Havens in the meanwhile assured her that at Cirdan's request they would not mention the full story about her until he indicated otherwise.
"I could not say why he insists on such secrecy, especially in such dark and urgent times as these," said Galdor.
"Nor I," replied Elraen. "But I will trust in Master Cirdan's wisdom."
"Indeed," he replied. "I suspect the answer may be far beyond any of our expectations."