From the winding forest path emerged a narrow bridge that led into the valley of Imladris, Aeardis extended her arms in glee towards the house of Elrond, "Alas!" She cried in mockery of all that had transpired during their long journey from Gondor, "I was beginning to think we'd never make it."
Her travel companion huffed and continued onward, shifting the weight of his shield and her small pack of books and other trinkets that had not run away with the horses, "Was it really necessary to bring these?" he scrutinized.
"Yes!" Aeardis exclaimed, her few book had proven useful on their journey and he knew that to be true, "I was not the one who lost the horses," she lambasted, "nor was I the one who mistook the Angren for the Gwathló." Boromir glowered though she found his sour expression particularly amusing.
They only stopped bickering when a dark-haired elf strode forward, extending his hand in greeting. "Welcome to Rivendell," his voice had a calming, melodic factor about it that reminded her of her late father. Boromir straightened his back and Aeardis clasped her hands together as if the gesture could make up for her travel-weary appearance. "Rooms have been readied for your arrival," the elf added as two more elves strode forth, one male, the other female. Each of them led Boromir and Aeardis in separate directions, not giving them time to protest.
In haste to keep up with the long strides of the elleth in front of her, Aeardis hardly glanced around at the splendor that was Rivendell, though she did take note of certain rooms and statues that lined the halls. Finally, the elf woman came to a stop and gestured toward the guest room. She immediately stepped over the threshold and was delighted to see a featherbed and bath. Aeardis turned to thank her guide but she had already gone.
The room was bathed in a golden hue from the light of the setting sun. It seemed that over many years, the halls of had been hewn from stone and the furniture sung from trees. It also appeared to Aeardis that the elves had a keen distaste for chamber doors that rivaled that of Minas Tirith. Openness and fresh air seemed to be of utmost importance in the rooms that privacy was nearly lost, especially within the bathing chambers.
A few moment's passed before a stream of elven women came through her door bearing large pitchers of warm water to fill the stone tub. Another, younger looking elf, brought a simple dress and laid out a loose fitting robe to be worn while her clothes were mended and cleaned.
She bit back her small whine of satisfaction upon seeing the assortment of sweet oils and soaps that had been laid out too. When the water grew cold, Aeardis stood with a great amount of relief, it had been many weeks since she had the luxury of a bath. Her skin had been rid of the dirt and grime, her hair once again was soft and clean though she had not worked out the tangles yet.
Cool autumn air nipped at her skin as she reached for the shapeless robe, it was unlike any garment she had ever worn, even more finely crafted than her ceremonial dresses. It was a made of green silk, so thin it grew close to transparent when it touched her still damp body.
"Aeardis?" In the mirror's reflection, she saw that Boromir was peering into her room with a cautious air, unsure as to whether he would be interrupting her bath or catching her in an inopportune state of undress. "Yes?" She called back, looking over her shoulder. He stuck out her small pack that had still been strung across his back when they parted ways. "Your things?"
"Will you place it on the bed, please? I'm a bit busy at the moment." Frustrated would have been a better word as she picked at a matted nest of hair at the back of her neck. Boromir chuckled to himself as he entered her rooms, catching sight of her sitting at a vanity with a pearl comb half stuck in a matted mass of hair.
It made him think of the time when she had braided Faramir's hair when they were younger. She had offered to do the same to his hair but he had told her that only women wore braids, that was when she told him of the elves and dwarves for both genders wore braids without shame, even their fierce and legendary warriors. He never mocked her again for such things. Those childhood memories were gone the instant he saw the figure that lay beneath the limpid robe, almost unhidden from his gaze. He swallowed hard and left as quickly as he had come.
The moon had fully risen by the time Aeardis finished braiding her hair, having given up on working out the smallest knots. Now, however, she had a thirst for exploring even though her body longed for sleep and protested her each move. A simple brown dress nearly the same color as her hair had been the other garment provided. It was far too long for her and had to be belted with a golden rope to keep the excess material from wrapping around her ankles.
Sconces held torches along the hall, casting warm, but long shadows that battled with the silvery light of the full moon. She let her feet go where they wished and it came as no surprise where she ended up first. Aeardis found the library of Lord Elrond as if she had been born knowing the way. She skimmed the titles and scrolls, ghosting her fingertips across the leather spines and delicate parchment. Out of the hundreds, she gathered up only three small leather bound books, for now, each of them on a different time in Middle Earth's history.
A man sat in the shadows, reading by the light of the moon and when she passed by him, he lifted his gaze from the book to her. "Le suilon," Aeardis said in the common tongue of the elves. The stranger lowered his head. "Suilad," he murmured in return, but then he returned his attention to the book within his hands.
She looked at the stranger again, startled by his familiarity, yet she determined that they had never crossed paths before. He was tall, no doubt, and lean, much like Faramir, but with dark hair and the unkempt beginnings of a beard that was the same dark color. "You are no elf," Aeardis exclaimed, suddenly, and her outburst caused her cheeks to redden.
The stranger looked up from his book again with a quirked brow, "Nor are you." She could have corrected him in regards to her heritage but thought against it. "I am Aeadris of Tol Eressëa," she said, and that garnered a slightly surprised expression from the man, "but I come here on behalf of Gondor for the council."
"Then we share a common purpose," he said. Aeardis did not disturb the stranger again, she tucked the three books beneath her arm and retraced her steps back to her chambers.
Her room was dark save for the soft silvery glow of moonlight and she could not focus long enough to read a full sentence out of one of the borrowed books, nor did she wish to sleep. Instead, she stood from the featherbed and adjusted the diaphanous material of her gown but still pulled the blanket off the bed around her shoulders to protect her modesty. Aeardis peered around the corner and into the room across the hall. It too was dark, the fire in the hearth had long been extinguished. She stood in the doorway, "Boromir?" He stirred at the soft call of his name and sat up, squinting to see who had come to him at such an hour in the night.
"Aeardis," he murmured, recognizing her soft form in the moonlight. She sat next to him on the bed and wrung her hands together, anxious to know what would become of the realm she now called home. She did not conceal her worry as well as he did.
Boromir sat up and drew her into his arms. Slowly, she relaxed in his embrace and it was enough to take her mind off the great evil that strengthened with every passing second if only for the moment.
"I've never been so far from the sea," she admitted in a small, childlike voice that did not suit the woman he had come to know. Even if Minas Tirith was almost a hundred leagues from the sea it was still closer than Rivendell. She yearned to feel the sting of the salt water on her cheeks, to hear the waves breaking against the rocky shoreline beneath her seaside castle.
"When this is all over we'll go to the sea and visit Tol Eressëa," sleep clouded his voice. She could not deny the joy hearing such words brought to her, yet for her deep longing to look upon her home once more she could not tell him that it was an island of Valinor or that the ban of the Valar still persisted past the Enchanted Isles. He would not be able to pass into the realm of the Undying Lands.
Aeardis turned in his arms. "I do not peg you for a seaman," she whispered and his arms tightened around her, a comfort she could easily grow too accustomed too.
Boromir laughed into the crown of her dark hair and left a lingering kiss against her temple, "Hush now, my sea bride, it is time for sleep not talk." She remained tucked against his chest, unable to care about propriety or decency because it felt like she was home.
The sun broke through the clouds and filtered through the sheer curtains that hung around the open windows. Aeardis woke alone. She looked around the room but did not find Boromir's shield or sword, though in their place was a small stack of books. What startled her even more so than waking alone was the woman who stood over her with a scrutinizing expression, "Man agorer anlen?"
Aeardis felt her face turn red, surely she could not have looked that horrendous. The elleth pointed toward the seat at the vanity, "Come and sit. I shall tend to your hair." Reluctant but compliant, she pulled herself from the bed and went willingly. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the pair of silver shears that laid on the wooden surface and unease rose in her stomach. She was not a vain person by any means, but her hair was something she took pride in.
"Gwaedhel will return with a dress. This council business is important and you should not look so rugged." The elf was right, despite having scrubbed the dirt from her skin and hair she still had a rugged look about her that hid the softness of some of her features. So with gentle ease and no small amount of patience, every last knot had been worked free. With a steady, confident hand, the woman snipped at the ends of her hair until it was even and flowing. Then, without comment, she pulled Aeardis's dark hair back and began braiding at the crown of her head.
When she was dressed in the borrowed dress, and her hair had been finished, both Gwaedhel and the elf whose name she had learned to be, Malfimbes, looked over her with approving nods before mentioning that breakfast was to be served in the main hall on the hour. Aeardis thanked them both and left to take in the sights of Rivendell as the sun would have it.
"Boromir?" His gaze landed on her and for a moment he stood with his mouth agape as he took in her delicate form. The black gown was simple, only a silver belt adorned her waist, yet it was undeniable fitting for her. The ends of her hair had been trimmed, even the smallest of knots had been brushed out, and was now twisted into an intricate braid. Wisps of dark hair framed her freckled face. Boromir had rarely been the type to be rendered speechless, as he was now. "What? Is there something on my face?" Aeardis laughed but it sounded nervous and unnatural.
He shook his head and quickly righted himself. "It's only that I have not seen you in a dress for quite some time," he explained, hoping it was a decent excuse for his unabashed gawking.
She smiled, unsure if she could hide the flush of color that had overtaken her cheeks. "I'm glad to see that you have cleaned yourself up as well," Aeardis mused aloud, looking up at him for a quick second. His locks were shorn about his shoulders again, the scruff that had overtaken his jaw and neck had been trimmed back, and now, without the heavy weight of mail and shield, he almost had a relaxed air about him.
Boromir offered her the crook of his arm, she took it with a soft smile and the two of them wandered the halls of Rivendell in a comfortable silence.
Translations:
Le suilon - I greet you.
Suilad - Greetings.
Man agorer anlen? - What happened to you?