Strange encounters and answered questions
Gandalf and Elrond walked through the massive doors, and into the throne room of King Hrothgar. The Dwarf King had a gold crown, set with rubies, upon his head. He wore a fur-lined cloak, and mail. In his right hand was a large hammer. His eyes were like flint, and his face was grim; it bore the weathering of the centuries. They observed on either side of them great statues, undoubtedly of formers kings, of which they counted forty one. At last, they came before the throne. Gandalf raised his staff.
"Hail, Hrothgar, King under the Mountain," he said. The words stung a little, at the memory of another such King.
Elrond, for his part, smiled, and bowed. "Hail, King Hrothgar. It is an honour to meet you."
The dwarven king stirred. "Indeed. And it is an honour to meet you, Elrond of Rivendell, and Gandalf the Grey. I have yet to meet so fair an Elf, and so powerful, should the reports be true, a wizard." His voice was gravely, and reminded Elrond and Gandalf of older Dwarf kings.
They were silent for a time, and Hrothgar it seemed tried to see through them, and pierce the veils. But at last he gave up.
"Ajihad tells me you claim both to be from another realm," he said at last. "Why do you claim that? How can you be from another world?"
Gandalf and Elrond thought of how to answer this. At length Gandalf spoke.
"To tell you the full story would take far too long, and I do not remember much of it, I'm afraid. But my memory is long, as is Lord Elrond's. All I say is that there are other worlds, or at least one other. Arda it is named, or Middle-Earth. Lord Elrond and I come from Middle-Earth. How we came to be here is a question I have not yet any answer to."
"And there is one key difference," said Elrond when Gandalf was finished, "Which sets Alagaësia apart from Arda."
Hrothgar raised a rather bushy eyebrow. "Oh? And what is that?"
"In all of its history, recent and distant, never have there ever been what one might call a good dragon. Nay, all dragons of Middle-Earth are of a disposition towards evil, for that is their nature, since birth." Elrond's voice was grave, and there was a hint of sorrow, which Hrothgar, who was now silent, did not detect.
Hrothgar was silent for a time, thinking hard. Then he spoke, "And what is Middle-Earth like, Gandalf? Lord Elrond? What part do you two play in it?"
Gandalf turned to Elrond. The Elf-lord gathered his thoughts, before speaking.
"Middle-Earth is many things," he began. "It fair, yet for most of my kind it is dying. Rich is its history, full of terrors unnameable, and regrets unforgettable. Elves there are, and Dwarves also, and Men. It is lesser than what it once was, in more ways than one. I am the master of Rivendell, or Imladris. It is homely place, and many of my kin come by there, as they travel to the west, to the Undying Lands."
"And you, Gandalf?" Hrothgar turned to the old wizard.
Gandalf sighed. "It is a long and difficult tale, but I will try to keep it brief. In Arda, there is an evil known as Sauron. He is the greatest threat of the Second and Third Ages. I was sent thither from the Undying Lands, from Valinor, in order to aid the free peoples of Middle-Earth, offering guidance and counsel wherever I may. I cannot say much more than that."
Hrothgar again thought this over. These names and lands meant nothing to him. He was no lore master, but he knew his history well enough, and the lands of Alagaësia. He did not show his confusion. "And what are the relationships between Dwarves and Elves?"
Elrond frowned. "Alas, there is little love lost between Khazad and the Eldar. Once we were great friends, in particular the Noldor, and the world was better then. But a rift was formed, and much blood was spilled needlessly. Yet, for a time, new friendships were formed, and long there was a great enrichment between our two peoples. Alas, that was long ago, and we have not remade friendships since, though I have recently aided a company of dwarves to reclaim their home, so perhaps in time new friendships will be formed."
Gandalf spoke up again. "The Dwarves of Middle-Earth were ever the greatest miners and crafters and shapers of metal. Few amongst the Elves could match them, as they were taught by the Valar Aulë, the Smith."
At that, the three were silent. Hrothgar thought this over. His face, just as Gandalf and Elrond's, was unreadable.
At length, Hrothgar spoke again. "I know not the importance of that name. But that matters little right now. Now that you are here, what do you wish? In the western lands you will find the Elves of Alagaësia, though they are not quite as you are, lord Elrond. Do you wish to join them? And what of you, Gandalf?"
Elrond and Gandalf shared a look. Then Elrond spoke up.
"For now, Gandalf tells me it would be wise to stay in waiting here, in Farthen Dûr. And indeed, I would deem it wise as well, if only to learn what I can in these great halls, of crafting, of languages, and of history. For much is here that I do not have knowledge of, and I feel much as I did in the First Age of Middle-Earth, even if my joy is tainted by fears of what may happen in Middle-Earth without my presence, much as my joy in learning was tainted by my unfortunate circumstances then. And Gandalf has seldom been wrong.
"But do not think I would stay here and only take in knowledge. For I have spoken at length with one of the dwarves, Orik, who has been pleasant company on the way hither, and we have learnt that there is much I know of crafting and metalwork that the Dwarves of Alagaësia do not, and I would be fain to share it, and much else that your people might ask."
Hrothgar smiled at this. But it was brief, and vanished. He turned his gaze to Gandalf. "And what of you, Gandalf? Why do say it is wise to stay?"
"As Lord Elrond, I too would be glad to learn and to teach here," Gandalf answered. He stepped forth. "For there is much I have not seen before, and much I do not know. Yet that is not my chief reason. I would council you, King Hrothgar, to ready your kingdom for battle. Send out your scouts."
"And why do you council this, Gandalf the Grey?" asked Hrothgar, surprised at the sudden turn of conversation, though he kept it hidden. "None have ever breached Farthen Dûr before. Few know where it lies. Do you perhaps have knowledge of Galbatorix's mind?"
"No. But I have long strived against evil," began Gandalf, "and after many long years, I know well the minds of Men. And your enemy has had many years to determine where to send his armies, and now he knows all the better." Gandalf strode forth again. "King Hrothgar, Galbatorix sent out Kull and Urgals to fight the Dwarves and the Varden. But they were almost certainly but a small force compared to what they are mustering now. When they do not report to their lord, he will know for certain he has hit near his mark. I cannot say for certain how much time we have, ere Galbatorix's army invades. So, I beg of thee, send out scouts. Search in all the lesser travelled places of the mountain. Prepare for a battle."
Hrothgar considered this for a moment. "You speak with much certainty. How do you know what you claim to know?"
"King Hrothgar," interrupted Elrond, stepping forth, "once before have I ignored the councils of Gandalf the Grey. It has possibly put all of Middle-Earth at risk. Throughout all the long millennia he has ever been wise. He has ever given council to the kingdoms of Middle-Earth, and in all his long years saved them from destruction."
Hrothgar was silent for a long time, thinking things through. He was given pause at the word millennia. Whoever these beings were, they were wise, and truthful. When he spoke again, it was as one confused but determined. "Very well, Gandalf the Grey, and Lord Elrond of Rivendell. I shall heed your advice. You may stay here, and while you are here you shall teach, and you shall learn. Go now, and do so, and if what you have told me is true, you shall be named Dwarf-friends, the first Elf in many centuries, and the first Man in many more."
At that, Gandalf and Elrond bowed, and left. Outside of the halls, they came across Eragon, Saphira, and Orik, who had just arrived.
"Ah, Saphira, Eragon, and Orik!" said Gandalf. "It is good to see you this fine morning. When you have finished, perhaps you would join us in the Library for a talk. No doubt there is much to discuss." With that, Gandalf left, not letting them reply.
Elrond smirked. "I must agree with Gandalf. We have not yet finished our conversation regarding the proper way to "enchant" a jewel, friend Orik."
Orik grinned. "Aye, I've yet to teach you how it's properly done. I'll meet you in the Library, friend Elrond."
The two laughed, and Elrond left to join Gandalf.
Catching up to Gandalf, Elrond asked, "Well Gandalf, what do you propose we do now?"
"Now, all we can do is wait, and learn, and teach," answered Gandalf.
After a long walk, they arrived at the Library. They spent a long while reading about history, and trying as they could to know more of the Dwarven language. Elrond also read on plants and their effects.
They did not do much of either before they were interrupted. Gandalf was replacing a book in its place, when in the corner of his eye he saw two quite unwelcome figures. The twins had come again. He stuffed the book back in its place, and turned to face the pair.
"Well, what is it you want? Speak quickly," he commanded. The twins started, and the one that examined Gandalf flinched the worst. The quickly gathered themselves. Gandalf's eyes pierced them.
"It seems we got off to a bad start," began the sound twin. "I must apologize."
"Indeed, we must make amends," agreed the other, seemingly healed completely, though he still leaned on the walking-stick.
"Is that so? And how do you intend to do so?" asked Gandalf, not forgetting for a moment the twin's manners at their meeting.
The sound twin spoke. "We understand you wish to know of the Ancient Language. We know much of the Ancient Language."
"And what is the price? Knowledge from me?" asked Gandalf.
The twins looked to each other, somewhat surprised that Gandalf was so perceptive.
"If you would be inclined to share some small knowledge of your world, we would be most obliged," said the sound twin.
Gandalf boomed, drawing himself upright, perceiving their intent. "Bald fools! Do you think yourselves subtle? I have uncovered the lies and machinations of far subtler beings than you. Do not think I have forgotten your actions at the waterfall, Egraz Carn? Begone, ere I feel inclined to turn you both into toads!"
In anger and indignation, the twins drew themselves up.
"Very well," the sound one hissed. "But when you require aid and information, do not look to us." They spun around, and stalked off. Elrond passed them on his way to Gandalf.
"What happened here, my old friend?" he asked.
"Some pitiful fools thinking they can worm their way into my knowledge like some common apple."
Elrond smiled, knowingly. "I imagine there is a story behind your anger, my friend."
"There is," Gandalf said simply, and did not elaborate. He picked out another book from the shelf, which seemed to be in regard to spirits. Elrond simply smiled. If Gandalf did not want to elaborate, he would not.
A long while they read after, until at last they saw Eragon and Orik come near. Elrond welcomed them to their table.
"Ah, Elrond, Gandalf," greeted Orik, glad to see Elrond again. "We must now finish our conversation."
"Indeed, I have yet to prove myself right," agreed Elrond. He and Orik chuckled.
Gandalf and Eragon chuckled quietly to themselves. Gandalf invited Eragon over.
"Come, my boy," he said, taking out a pipe. Elrond and Orik were talking about the enchanting of jewels. "We should visit Murtagh today, I think."
"Yes! I've almost forgotten about him," exclaimed Eragon.
"It is to be expected," said Gandalf, beginning to smoke. "Nevertheless, we should visit him." He was silent then, and peered at Eragon. "You seem troubled. Why?"
Eragon shifted. "I… I did something yesterday that I'm unsure of." His gaze did not meet Gandalf's, who was staring at him intently from underneath the brim of his hat.
"Yes?" pressed Gandalf.
"An old lady came up to me today," began Eragon slowly, "and asked me to bless her child. I didn't know what to do, but a thought came into my mind to put a particular spell on the child. A spell of protection. And I am certain I've done the right thing but… I just have this strange feeling. I talked to Saphira, and she says I've done the right thing. She even gave the child a mark like my gedwëy ignasia. And yet..."
"Hmm," Gandalf murmured, thinking of what to say. The gedwëy ignasia must be the silver scar on his hand. He had been rather curious about it, as it lingered in the wizards eye whenever the boy was around, though he had not yet an opportunity to ask about it. He decided to ask later.
"You did what you believed to be best, did you not?" he asked, and Eragon nodded. "And acted with the best of your knowledge, no?" Eragon nodded once again, looking up. "Then until we know more, dispel these doubts from your mind. They will not avail you. Maybe this will return to haunt you, and it may be that you have done a very good thing. Who could tell, until we know more? Many are the strange chances of the world, and all one can say for certain is that this will most likely return, for good or for ill. Even the very wise can see only so far, without more knowledge."
Eragon nodded, and it seemed to him that his fears and doubts burned away, and a kindly flame was lit in his heart, and he felt better than he had in quite some time.
"Thank you, Gandalf," he said, earnestly.
"Any time, my boy, any time," said Gandalf, cheerfully. Then his voice dropped low. "Also, a word of warning. The twins: we should be very careful about them. They seem to have ill-intent for all. Why the Varden permitted them entrance alone is a mystery to me. I suspect they will come to talk to you like they did me, and they will seek to make amends and teach you about the Ancient Language. But they will attempt to take knowledge from you as well. Do not let them!"
Eragon nodded, his eyes fierce. "I understand."
With that, Gandalf sat back in his chair, and opened up his book. "Well, find a book. There is much knowledge here. I suggest starting with the Dwarven alphabet. Most books and scrolls here are in the language, or rather a branch of that language, since they seem to keep their language quite secret. There are a few small books on the subject, but that is all. It seems there are many similarities between the Dwarves of Middle-Earth and Alagaësia."
Eragon nodded at this, and went off to find a book. Soon he returned, but as he did, the twins did too. Annoyance and ill-will in their eyes, they stopped by the table.
"Ajihad would have you tested tomorrow, Eragon, and you too Gandalf and Elrond," they said, venom in their last voice. "And we have a proposition to offer you."
Gandalf stiffened, but did not speak up. He would have to let Eragon decide for himself. Elrond narrowed his eyes, a cold light in them, but he was also silent.
"Okay," said Eragon, anger ever-so-slightly visible on his face. "And what is your proposition?"
The undamaged one spoke. "Firstly, an apology, Eragon. We acted rashly." Eragon's eyes narrowed, but he did not speak. "We wish to teach you some of what we know, in order to apologise properly. This brings into our second proposition. There is a group of magicians and wizards in the Varden known as the Du Vrangr Gata."
The hobbled one spoke up. "But we are pitifully few, and our knowledge limited in some areas, and the addition of a Dragon Rider would be an immense addition to our forces."
Eragon could take no more, and revealed his true anger. "Do you take me for a fool? You want nothing more than to take from me what knowledge Brom gave me. It must've angered you when you couldn't steal it from my mind. You shan't have it!"
The twins narrowed their eyes, and thinned their lips. "You should be more careful of how you speak to us," hissed the one with the cane. "We shall be the ones who test you tomorrow. And that can be most unpleasant."
The sound one spoke, with no less venom in his voice than his twin. "We shall let you think it over. Tomorrow, we shall test you. Make sure you choose rightly." With that, they turned and left. Eragon was reminded eerily of the Ra'zac.
A while later, and Orik and Eragon had left for the Dragon hold. A while after their leaving, Elrond rose, and told Gandalf he was off to see how Arya faired. Gandalf bid him farewell, and stayed a while longer.
While he was reading a particularly interesting book on Dwarf traditions, a young seeming lady came up to him, and sat on the chair just next to him. She was short, with brown curly hair, and had an air of secrecy about her. She had a short sword on her hip. Her eyes were keen, and excitement twinkled in them.
"I was wondering where you were," she said.
"Indeed? And why is that?" asked Gandalf, cautiously. There was a strange power about her, akin to and yet very much unlike his own, if only very slightly lesser.
"Well, I heard there were a couple strangers from another world, and one of them basically left one of the twins braindead, and I just had to see them for myself," said the lady. She leaned in closer. "So, what's your name?"
"I have many names," Gandalf replied. "Gandalf, I am known to most. Mithrandir, to the Elves of my land, and Olórin in the furthest west. Incánus in the south, and to the Dwarves of my land Tharkûn. I look forward to what names I earn here. And what is yours? You seem a most interesting person. I did not know word spread so quickly."
"Oh, word spreads quickly when you know who to listen to," she said flippantly.
"Indeed, they do," mused Gandalf. The young lady paused, only for a moment, and her keen eyes gleamed ever brighter.
"As for my names," she continued, "for now, you can call me Angela. The Elves here call me by a title, and not an actual name, but the Urgals called me Uluthrek."
"Do they? You've walked amongst them, then, the Urgals?" he asked, ever more intrigued. This revelation added a new depth to the mystery.
"Yes, and you should know," she leaned in closer, and her voice grew colder and her eyes shone with a new light. Her façade lowered, only a bit, "that this isn't normal. Something is amiss with Urgals. They're a war loving race, yes, but that term is misused. Battle loving, perhaps, skirmish loving, rather. But wars? And a great host of Kull running across the entire Hadarac desert? Something's off. Very off. I don't know what it is yet."
This was a new development. Angela, whoever she might be, seemed certain of this fact. And if they could get to the source of whatever was wrong with the Urgals, then perhaps they could stop a great deal of bloodshed. But Gandalf was curious about her knowledge of this matter.
"You know this? How?" he asked, not unkindly, though not in a manner that brooked much argument.
"Like you said," she began answering, "I've walked amongst them. Good friends, if a bit violent, but hardy and honourable. Don't try the alcohol, though. It's possible that Galbatorix offered them something. Land, a steady supply of people to kill, who knows? But what I've heard? All this travelling around, pillaging, wiping out entire villages? Something's off. Far beyond simple agreements."
"And why come to tell me?" asked Gandalf, quietly. Their voices had become but a whisper.
"Because you're the only one around here that would listen, save Elrond perhaps. You're the only one who isn't completely biased against them already," explained Angela. "And because you seem to be very wise."
Gandalf muttered quietly, drawing himself back. Then he wondered something.
"Do you think there is enough time to find out what is happening with the Urgals and stop it?"
Angela sighed. "I don't know. Which is a surprising problem for me. But in all honesty, I think you should stay here, even if there was time, it'll be extremely difficult. The Varden will need your wisdom before the war."
"Then you believe war is coming soon?" asked Gandalf.
"Definitely," answered Angela. "There's a Dragon Rider about. You of all people should know how these things are."
"I do indeed. And what is your role in all of this?" asked Gandalf, curious.
Angela laughed. "Oh, I like to be where the action is. There hasn't been much of that in a long while, so when Eragon came by in Teirm—"
"You know Eragon?" interjected Gandalf.
"Yes, I showed him his fortune," answered Angela, continuing quickly. "Anyway, I knew that something was afoot, and the Dwarves and the Varden would be the best place to be. So, I closed up shop and came here, quickly as I could."
Gandalf smiled. "And what is it you did?"
"I'm a witch," she said, causing Gandalf to start.
"A witch?" asked Gandalf, confused, and concerned. How could she be a witch? "I take it the title of 'witch' means something far different to what it means in my lands."
"I don't know. What does it mean there? What is there called, by the way, I haven't heard."
"Oh, yes, it's called Middle-Earth," said Gandalf. "And over there, witches are beings of great and terrible power; they are chiefly servants of Sauron, though there are some that are self-serving. What are witches here?"
This stunned Angela, ever so slightly, though she did not show it. She smiled. "Witches here are nothing so impressive," she said. "All we do is mix herbs with magic, to varying results, though some of the more skilled can cast a small spell or two without herbs or plants. I myself sold a few potions."
She spoke with a voice that veiled her true nature, but in the way that let one know she was concealing it, which Gandalf picked up on.
"You should speak with Lord Elrond," he said. "He has many skills in regard to herbs and plants, particularly in the art of healing."
"Indeed?" murmured Angela. "I'll have to find him."
There was a silence, for a while. Then Angela stood up, somewhat suddenly.
"Well, I've got to go," she said. "I've got some shopping to do, and I want to make certain I don't run into those miserable twins."
"You have difficulty with them too?" asked Gandalf, chuckling.
"Yes, they keep asking me to join their pathetic little club," she snarled. Gandalf chuckled quietly at that. "I must say though, I quite like the way you dealt with one of them. I should like to give them the same treatment, but they already fear what would happen to them."
Gandalf and Angela shared a grim laugh. "Well, fair well, dear Angela," he said. "I am glad to have made your acquaintance."
Angela smiled. "And you, Gandalf," she replied. "I look forward to talking to you another time. Maybe I'll tell you about a particular tale of mad rabbits."
Gandalf's eyebrows raised. "I'd be most delighted to hear it." And with that, she left, and Gandalf stayed to read a bit, thinking to go later to Murtagh.
Sometime earlier, Elrond had left to the healers' chambers, to accompany the Egg-Courier Arya. He reached them, after some directions from a man, who stumbled over his words a bit at seeing Elrond.
However, upon arriving there, the healer that had greeted him yesterday told him, with only a little less stumbling herself, that Arya had left in search of him only a few moments earlier, and uncertain of his whereabouts, went to the training fields. Elrond asked directions, and left hastily in search of her.
He walked with a speed that, upon noticing, confused him. He suspected it was because he was reminded of his daughter in this Arya, and his fatherly nature had taken over. She seemed young, at least by the standards of elves in Middle-Earth. He had no idea what constituted as young or old in this new world.
Another thing prompted him, and that was that he had promised to talk to her about Middle-Earth. There was much that they could talk about, and it was impolite to break such a promise, even though it was not particularly binding.
Some moments later, and Elrond found Arya. It was easy, the moment he went by people who had seen her. Hushed whispers from Men about an elf passing by grew into frantic whispers, wondering who this elf was, so fair and majestic. Elrond ignored them, save to use as directions.
He caught up to her, as she looked around the fields, searching. He called out her.
"Lady Arya," he called. She spun around to face him, before walking towards him. "I am fortunate I managed to find you. You wished to know of my home, I believe."
"That is correct, lord Elrond," she said, moving to bow. He raised a hand to stop her.
"Please, do not bow. I am not truly a lord in my own realm, and certainly not here."
She rose, uncertainly. "There is an empty plain further down," she said, pointing to an empty patch.
They walked in silence to the plain. Soon they were beyond the ears of mortal beings.
"If I may ask, lady Arya," began Elrond, as soon as they came upon the patch, "how old are you? If it is not too personal, or too difficult."
"Of course, lord Elrond," said Arya, her voice rather musical. "I am one hundred and two years."
"I see," said Elrond, his suspicions confirmed. One hundred years! That was very young indeed. Elves in Middle-Earth would have come of age only fifty-two years ago. "You are very young, then?"
"Yes, lord Elrond," answered Arya. There was a silence, before she asked, "If I may, how old are you?"
"The Eldar of Arda have do not count the years as the race of Men do, for time to us flows both fast and slow, and blends together. But the closest estimate, I suppose, is some six thousand years, give or take some years."
"Six thousand!" gasped Arya. That was older than any elf alive, possibly in history. Rhunön alone was older than the Dragon Riders, and not even she was that old!
"Roughly," said Elrond, confused at her surprise, as he was not the oldest Elf in Middle-Earth, and much less the oldest elf in all of Arda.
"Forgive me, lord Elrond," said Arya, regaining her composure. "I am afraid I was caught off guard. None of the Eldar here have lived to such an age. It seems we have not yet earned that title. Indeed, the eldest of the elves of Alagaësia has lived for roughly two and half thousand years old."
Elrond's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The elves here were young by his standards. The youngest eves he knew, prince Legolas, Thranduil's son, and his own daughter Arwen were roughly that age, if he was correct. The thought of the oldest elf being only a little older than one of the youngest elves he knew was a startling thought.
"If I may, lady Arya, how come the Eldar of Alagaësia to be so young?" he asked. "I fear I have had little time to read of the history of this world, and there is none of the history of the elves in the Dwarven halls."
"Over two millennia ago, dragons and elves lived separately," began Arya. "The elves thought the dragons to be little more than beasts. In those days, we were no more immortal than humans. We were much akin to humans. One of the elves killed a dragon. In retaliation, the dragons waged war upon the elves. The elves fought in defence, first, but soon were forced to attack. Those who were there said it rained blood.
"It came to pass that a young elf, Eragon the first, came across a dragon egg. He hid it, and raised it, and they formed a bond. He became the first Shur'tugal, the first Dragon Rider. They forged a peace between the two races, and created a magical pact. The dragons would give two or three eggs, and they would bond with an elf. They would be trained and become the Shur'tugal, and would keep the peace. They became scholars, philosophers, keepers of the peace, and more. The elves gave the dragons language, and the dragons gave the elves immortality and magic. This is the reason we are so young, though we have never thought ourselves young."
"I see. You have a most interesting history," said Elrond. There was a pause, before he spoke again. "I apologise. I have promised to tell you of my world, but have made you speak of your own. What do you wish to know? Middle-Earth has a complex history, and I fear the day would pass into the night before we finished even half of it."
Arya paused for a while. She had not really given it much thought. Then she had a thought.
"What is Rivendell like?" she asked.
Elrond smiled. "Rivendell, or Imladris, is the Last Homely House, East of the Sea. It is a place of resting, and of knowledge, and many pass through it, for learning and for peace, though not all know of where it lies, especially amongst the race of Man. For many of the Elves, it is a place of resting, before they leave at last for Valinor."
Arya turned to him. "What is Valinor?"
Elrond smiled wistfully. "Valinor is the home of the Elves. In the first age of the world, the Eldar were brought to Valinor, the Undying Lands, alongside the Valar and Maiar, the Powers of Arda. Once, the Elves lived there in peace. But mistrust and doubt were sown in their minds. I was not yet born, but I have heard of its beauty in song, and have read of it, and I have seen paintings, which older Elves have done in memory.
"The Noldor, of who I am a part of, left Valinor, and were led by Fëanor. They committed a horrifying crime. They took part in the first kin-slaying, and were banished. I count myself blessed that I was not born then, and rather nearer to the end of the First Age."
Elrond was silent for a time, and they walked quietly. At last, Arya asked another question.
"Who are the Valar and Maiar?" she inquired.
Elrond thought for a while. "The Valar and Maiar are race of beings known as the Ainur. Though my knowledge of them is limited, as I was not born during the days of the Two Trees, when the Eldar walked amongst them, I learnt of them in song. They were born before time, from the thoughts of Eru Ilúvatar, the One, and they created the world.
"The Maiar are of a lesser order than the Valar, of whom there are fourteen. Once there were fifteen, Morgoth, but he is no longer counted amongst them. There is Manwë, who is mightiest and closest to Eru. He is the lord of the wind and sky, and all things that have wings belong to him. His spouse is Varda, who made the stars. It is she the Elves love and revere the most, as when they awoke, they saw first the stars. There is Ulmo, who is said to live in every river and every ocean…"
Elrond spoke then for a while, listing off the Valar and Valier, and what they did. Arya found it interesting, because she believed this to be merely a creation myth, and the Elves here had no belief in Gods or any such deities. She wondered why the Elves in Arda did.
At last, Elrond ended his answer, speaking of Nessa, the Dancer. Arya was immensely fascinated by his answer, and commented on it.
"This is most intriguing… Elrond," she said, having some difficulty with the informality. "The Elves here have no myths about creation."
"Myth?" asked Elrond, turning suddenly. "It is hardly a myth, Arya. The Ainur are quite real. I have seen the Valar, at the end of the First Age of the world, and in the Second Age I fought in a war against a Maiar who was corrupted in the beginning, in the Timeless Halls. Even now, though we had victory then, we are hard pressed to keep his forces at bay, for we have learnt that he has awoken, and returned. Sauron, his name is."
Arya was silent for a moment, and could not so easily fathom what she heard. This was far to bizarre, and she had seen many bizarre things in her, admittedly short, life. Gods and angels? Primordial entities from timeless halls? It was, in short, impossible. And yet…
"Forgive me, but I confess I do not believe you," she said, respectfully. "The Elves of Alagaësia have oft tried and failed to find any evidence of any beings one might call a god or deity."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I see."
"And I hope I do not seem rude," continued Arya, going to great lengths to contain her nervousness. "But, can you perhaps tell me of some of the evidence?" When Elrond raised his eyebrow again, she stuttered, and began to blush, bashful under the stern gaze. "I… I'm just… I merely—"
Elrond smiled, and his eyes softened. "I understand your plight, lady Arya. I would be fain to share my knowledge. But Mithrandir, Gandalf, may be able to offer you better answers to your questions."
"Indeed?" wondered Arya. Elrond nodded. Then Arya thought of an idea. "My lord, I am unsure of how it is in your home world, but here, it is possible to read and share memories."
"Indeed? It is same where I am from, or at least similar," said Elrond. "If you wish, I can share some memories from my world."
"I would be honoured, my- Elrond," said Arya. Elrond turned to him, his face an indecipherable mask. For a moment, Arya wondered if he would really share his memories.
Then he asked, "How do you initiate it?" His face became softer, and Arya inwardly breathed a sigh of relieve.
"I shall initiate it," said Arya, nervous, despite being adept at it.
"I should warn you, they will not be very pleasant memories. Indeed, they shall be of fear and terror," cautioned Elrond.
"Regardless, master Elrond, I should like to know," replied Arya. They stood still, and Arya sent out her mind.
The very moment Arya's mind contacted Elrond's, she nearly recoiled at the immense weight and sheer depth of the strange Elves mind. It was indeed millennia deeper than any mind she had ever encountered. Elrond's song felt as deep as the ocean, and as complex as history itself. If she did not take care, she, an Elf! could lose herself.
As Arya struggled to grasp the enormity of the alien mind, the mind became clear, and it seemed that, like she was in an ocean, Arya breached the surface, and she could breathe. She struggled to stay afloat, and if she stopped struggling, she felt that she would drown. But in the struggling, she caught glimpses. A lineage; the names Melian, and Luthien. Flashes of beings of great power, and impossible beauty, and unmatched terror. Beings of primordial, ancient, ethereal wisdom. Beings of shadow and flame and cruel intelligence. And later, a being of terrible cunning, and a lust for power. Names rang in her mind. Sauron. Gorthaur. Lord of Wolves. Deceiver. They were the same person, or being, she realised. And then… a poem? Softly, quietly, at first, but growing, louder, and deeper. Darker.
Three rings for the Elven Kings, under the sky
Seven for the Dwarf-lords, in their halls of stone
Nine for mortal men, doomed to die.
One for the Dark Lord, on his dark throne.
In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them
Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,
One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul
In the land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie.
At that last moment, she threw her mind backwards, recoiling back into the safety and sanity of herself. When she returned, she became aware of herself, finding she was sweating profusely, and breathing heavily. She stumbled, and saw an outstretched hand, which she grabbed a hold of. It held her steady, as she breathed deeply.
Arya looked up, steadying herself, standing upright. She saw that Elrond had not suffered as she had, and remained composed and regal. She saw a great deal of concern in his eyes, however.
"Are you alright, lady Arya?" he asked. She nodded, for some reason not trusting herself to speak. "I apologise. I have not yet needed to share memories, so I fear I may have done something incorrect. All other times I had merely spoken with the other person. So, I apologise for any trouble I have caused you."
Arya shook her head. "No, it is no fault of your own. I am unaccustomed to a mind such as yours. It seemed to be as vast as an ocean." She breathed deeply, stabilising herself some more, and taking the moment to choose her words. "But I certainly believe you, now."
The two Elves were silent then, for a while, and they stood there whilst the wind blew. At last, Elrond broke the silence.
"It would be wise for you to go and rest," he said. "I suspect that this has been a taxing experience. And no doubt you have duties to attend to come the morn. I shall come tomorrow to make certain you are fit enough."
"Of course, lord Elrond," said Arya, bowing in a strange fashion, which Elrond suspected was a tradition. He bowed in turn, and they bid each other fair well. Elrond headed back to the library, for he wished to know more regarding history, and clear his mind.