This chapter contains a character from my other Middle Earth fanfic, Words Like Wind (centered around Thorin Oakenshield and the course of the Hobbit) but for those of you who have not read it, I promise everything will still make sense overall, you can think of Arethusa like a literal fairy godmother.
In the afternoon hours, a small band of dwarves from Erebor arrived. The lot of them were disgruntled by the elves, the rivalry between their races had diminished little over the years. Among the traveling party was a portly dwarf with a walking axe. His beard was white as snow and tumbled over a large belly, parted in two sections that were tied off at the end with a small braid.
Over dinner, he was announced to be Glóin, son of Gróin, and Aeardis excitedly nudged Boromir at the revelation. As a child, she had grown up hearing the tales of how Smaug the Dragon was slain and of how the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed in the words of her father. It seemed her curiosity and fascination would finally be sated. After the meal had finished, Boromir stuck her side with his elbow, a gentle push that spurred her past nervousness to go and speak with the dwarves.
When she first approached the old dwarf, the two others at his side, one with hair the color of pitch, the other with fiery auburn hair, stood at attention as they took her for an elf. But her ears weren't so pointed and despite the elfin way she presented herself, they saw that she was not someone to trade insults with, still they did not entirely trust her intentions. Aeardis lowered her head, "It is an honor to meet you, Glóin, long have I heard tales about the company of Thorin Oakenshield."
A twinkle appeared in the elderly dwarf's dark eyes, followed by a bout of mirthful laughter, "Aye, you've got a silvertongue, lass, no doubt." She smiled and it must have been a contagious thing for all three returned the kindly gesture. Glóin motioned to the young dwarf on his left, "this here is my son, Gimli," he had the look no doubt. He now motioned to his right, "and his cousin, Veryn." Veryn gave her little half bow as was courtesy among the Longbeards.
"I am Aeardis of Gondor," she said. The short and nostalgic conversation between her and the dwarves did not last for a long as she wished, for when she looked over her shoulder toward where Boromir sat, she saw that his relaxed manner was gone. Now he was engaged in a heated conversation between two different elves. Aeardis quickly excused herself, thanking Glóin and his kin for their time before retreating to the empty seat to the Steward-Prince's left.
"Only the waning might of Gondor stands now between him and a march in power along the coasts into the North; and if he comes, assailing the White Towers and the Havens. The elves may have no escape from the lengthening shadows of Middle-earth," Tauron said, the tips of his ears had gone red in anger. He had come from the Woodland Realm.
Aeardis opened her mouth to protest, but Boromir's own pride spoke before she ever could. "Long yet will that march be delayed," he said. "Gondor wanes, you say. But Gondor stands, and even the end of its strength is still very strong."
It was then that another elf intervened. He had long silver hair with a pointed face and piercing blue eyes, there was a haughtiness to him that finally made Aeardis understand while it was that the people of Gondor did not take kindly to the Firstborns. "And yet its vigilance can no longer keep back the Nine," said Galdor of the Grey Havens, "and other roads he may find that Gondor does not guard."
"Mayhap this would not be a current issue had the great and valiant warriors of the Eldar answered the call to aid Gondor when this evil first began to grow in the dark of Mordor," Aeardis snapped and the table, in turn, fell silent. "Do not presume to judge Gondor and her faults when you have stood for over a thousand years watching and done nothing."
It was with those bitter words that she left the great hall, seeking solitude within the gardens as night began its descent on the world. She found refuge beneath one of the belvederes and watched as the clouds disintegrated to reveal a near starless sky. Surely that was a bad omen. For the first time in many years, Aeardis found that she was longing for her father's presence. He would know what to do and say in this delicate situation. She looked down at her left palm and found the pale splotch that resembled a strange flower, Ohtar had borne the same mark of roughly the same size on his own left hand.
"I have heard word that you hail from an Isle of Valinor." Aeardis glanced up from her careful inspection of her hands to see a small, frail looking woman with silver hair and violet eyes staring back at her. She was smaller than even a dwarf, but not childlike for many years of experience were written over her features. "Tol Eressëa," Aeardis replied.
"A noble land. I, myself, once called Númenórë home." After that statement, it took less than a second for her to realize who this stranger was. Aeardis didn't know if she should sink down into a curtsy or continue standing with her mouth agape in shock, however, she did neither of those things. Instead, Aeardis crossed her right arm over her chest and lowered her head in a short display of genuflection that was common of the elves, "Arethusa," she properly greeted the fairy this time and sought to apologize for her own initial ignorance, "Forgive me, I did not think to meet a Fairy Queen today."
Arethusa waved her hand in dismissal, it was quite refreshing to be treated not as a queen every waking second, "There is nothing to forgive." The fairy motioned toward an unoccupied bench in the gardens, the two sat and suddenly it felt as though they were old friends. "I spoke with your compeer earlier."
"Boromir," Aeardis said with a smile that she tried to hide, but the fairy saw and knew already what such a smile meant. It was the same type that Arwen wore whenever Aragorn was mentioned and one that over many lifetimes she had seen countless times. Arethusa nodded, her violet eyes flicking down to a leather thong around her neck where an iron key and silver ring hung. "Indeed," said the fairy in return, "he reminds me of my beloved, proud and stubborn."
Aeardis laughed and her previous woes were forgotten, "Then you already know him well." After a while, Arethusa stood with a soft sigh, "The hour grows late and I promised both Elladan and Elrohir that I would join them on their hunt." They were Lord Elrond's twin sons, whom Aeardis had met only a few hours ago.
She stood as well and bowed her head, "after hearing tales from my father, it was truly an honor to meet you." Sincerity could be found in every word. Arethusa nodded and in return said, "as it was to make your acquaintance, Aeardis, I believe we shall see each other once again." With that the fairy seemed to vanish and once more she was left in solitude that lasted for all of a few more moments before the thudding of bare feet could be heard on the cobblestone.
Curious, she left her seat and took a handful of steps. "Pippin!" Aeardis turned at the shout. Two small figures dashed across the garden and nearly into her as they weren't looking ahead, but at each other. "Children?" She questioned as they stumbled back, fearing the wrath of one of the elves should they be caught running about causing trouble again. Luckily, it had only been her the two had run into. Children, however, didn't quite seem to be the right term to describe the two small creatures.
"No, my lady, were hobbits," one of them corrected. "Halflings from the Shire," the other one added in haste. "Merry," said the one with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes, "and Pippin, at your service." Pippin appeared to be younger, with his near golden hair and soft green eyes that had wandered back down to his injured hand.
"Come, let me see your hand, Master Pippin," the hobbit in question held out his bloodied hand. Aeardis could only hope to guess what had caused their state of dishevelment. Without much thought, she tore two pieces of fabric from the hem of her cloak, soaking one in the cool waters of the garden's fountain.
"Are you an elf?" Merry asked. Aeardis turned to him and smiled rather mischievously. "What makes you think that?" The hobbit flushed and quickly looked down at his feet and neither of them heard the few words she had spoken under her breath in elvish. It was a simple charm that she had used more times than she cared to count of Boromir's nicks and scrapes. Though it could not mend a wound completely, it could, at least, take away a minute amount of pain.
Pleased with her work, Aeardis shooed the two of them off, "now run along and by the looks of it, you should both stay out of trouble." Like excited children, they raced back through the garden in the direction they had both come.
"Those two can be quite meddlesome," spoke the stranger she had met in the library upon her arrival.
"So it seems," already there was a fondness in her voice for the two young hobbits, they reminded her of Boromir and Faramir, and perhaps even herself when they were younger. Aeardis glanced over to the stranger and saw that in a rugged way, he was very comely. "I never did get your name, good sir."
He looked down at her, contemplating something, but then he spoke, "Aragorn is the name given to me by my mother." The name sounded familiar and for good reason as Aeardis now realized he was Chieftain of the Dúnedain.
"I must bid you good night, Aragorn, it is quite late," she said, suddenly. Aragorn inclined his head, "And to you as well, Aeardis of Tol Eressëa."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming river-bed. Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land. It was almost unsettling to know that many leagues away, Gondor knew no such peace. The forces of the Dark Lord were constantly seeking to bring about the downfall of the ancient realm.
Elrond had announced that the great meeting was to begin on the hour as all the envoys of men, dwarves, and elves alike had arrived and rested. The elves present had gathered amongst themselves, only one dwarf from Ered Luin had taken a seat for the council thus far, but already had most of the representatives of the race of men taken up their places.
Aeardis fell into step at Boromir's side, he had said little since waking and she could not discern his thoughts from the straight expression he wore. The elves didn't pay them any mind, but the men did, their heated and scornful eyes fell upon Aeardis with contempt. The two of them took an empty pair of seats.
"What business does a woman have at this council?" It was a man with dark hair and dark eyes that made the proclamation. He was young, foolishly so, and for that, she did not take offense to his careless words. Boromir, on the other hand, was quick to jump on his feet and protect Aeardis's honor and position, even before she had a chance to say anything for herself.
"She is my father's most trusted advisor, her place is here. Belittle her once more," before he could finish the ill-issued threat Aeardis laid her hand on his arm and the anger dissipated. "Boromir. That is enough," she chided, choosing to simply ignore the man who had spoken against her. It had not been the first time and she was certain it would be far from the last.
"He should not have spoken in such a way," Boromir growled as he returned to his seat in the courtyard and Aeardis seized one of his hands, holding it with both of hers. "Not all the establishments of men allow women positions of power," she told him, yet the concept seemed foreign for even the people of Rohan would allow women to serve and rule. A brief smile flashed across her features, "Nor are they as accustomed to me as Gondor."
Soon after, Elrond, Mithrandir, Aragorn, and a halfling by the name of Frodo Baggins strode forth and took the remaining seats. "Strangers from distant lands," Lord Elrond began in a clear and ringing voice, "friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite," his gaze landed upon the men present and then he continued in a grave tone, "...or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate. This one doom." And so it was that the Free-Peoples of Middle Earth decided their fate.