Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.
My eyes scan the faces of the members present at the meeting. Their faces range from fear to outrage, thinking me to be an undisciplined lesser-elf of Rivendell. My eyes study the little silhouettes of the halflings, passing over the aged Bilbo and focusing on his nephew Frodo. He looks pale, but that is to be expected of anyone who manages to survive a wound from the Nazgûl. His blue eyes are clear of any milky sickness, but a thin sheen of sweat is visible to the careful watcher, stringing his brown hair flat against his forehead.
"Lyraniel?" Aragorn's questioning voice draws me from my reverie, and I focus on the authoritative face in the room: Lord Elrond. I rise to my feet and bow deeply, waist-first to his stoic visage.
When my eyes meet his, my hand reaches for Arwen, who sits at his side. She holds my hand and faces her father. Using her mouth to speak, since my own can no longer serve me with speech, I say in the Common Tongue, "I ask for your forgiveness, my Lord. I...was not myself."
Elrond is silent for a moment, contemplating the situation, I suspect. I see some of the council members' faces morph into surprise, not expecting Arwen to speak in my place. I also spy suspicion on some of their faces, but I am not prepared for Gandalf the Grey's thoughtful gaze. My stomach turns a little, expecting trouble.
"Lady Lyraniel," Elrond begins. My eyebrow twitches. He does not often speak of me in public, for fear that Sauron will discover my location. "My lady, you need not apologize. We," he gestures around to the council members, "were about to request your presence."
I am silent, considering his words. I channel some more power into Arwen to speak, "Lord Elrond, I find it unsafe to hold a meeting of import in such a...compromised...area." I pause, wanting to convey my concern without undermining the elf lord's authority. "Might I suggest moving to -"
"Now wait just a moment!" A bellow sounds from one of the dwarves. "Forgive me for speaking out, Master Elrond, but might I remind you that this is a private meeting? No common elf should have the right to interfere."
"Master Gimli -" Elrond goes to placate the dwarf, but another voice enters the fray.
"Master Elrond, I did not know that your house elves were so disrespectful. Are the elves growing stupid as well as slothful? Your staff should be better informed to the happenings in their house."
And another voice questions. "I dare not say this is an elf, brothers. Though obviously she is not deaf, one must wonder if she is dumb, that Lady Arwen must subject herself to be a simple mouthpiece for such an undeserving personage."
Soon, another argument is taking place among the council. I watch in indifference, scanning the place for a gap to escape to the safety of isolation. Arwen stands quiet at my side, her eyes focused on her father. Elrond's glare shoots around the room, looking for the best way to intervene while Aragorn actively tries to quench rising tempers. Gandalf the Grey, to my surprise, breaks the storm.
"SILENCE!" he bellows uncharacteristically. He looks at me pointedly, eyes softening, and bows his head in respect. He turns to the others and musters in anger, "I understand that most of you do not know this esteemed figure, because her presence here has been kept secret. But as leaders of your races attending a war council that may decide the fate of Middle Earth, I expected you to have a certain degree of dignity! Not the childishness I have seen demonstrated today!"
He sighs, and says to Elrond, "Master Elrond, I believe there was something you wished to say?" There is silence.
Elrond moves to speak, "Thank you Master Gandalf." Gathering himself and his words, "As I was trying to say before, this woman is no ordinary woman. She is not an Elf and not of the race of Man. Indeed, she is not of this earth." Murmurs of speculation sound, but before a question can be asked, Elrond speaks again, "Master Gandalf. I know you have been wanting an audience with her. Perhaps you can introduce her?"
My eyes swerve to watch Gandalf. He takes no notice of my scrutiny and raises himself a little. He meets my eyes, and says unflinchingly, "Lady Lyraniel is a Skyling, a child of the Sky."
I nod slightly. I let go of Arwen's hand and straighten my posture, unwilling to look weak in front of these males. Gandalf, having my permission, breaks eye contact and goes to say to the listeners, "Since the beginning of time, the lady has been coming to this land to teach language. She is the mistress of sound, and tasked with learning and spreading the spoken tongues."
Aragorn gently takes my hand and leads me to his seat. The crowd parts to let me through, sensing a fragility I fail to hide. Gandalf continues, "But thousands of years ago, when she came to this earth again, she was accosted, tricked, and assaulted by the Enemy." I hear slow intakes of breath as Gandalf turns towards me again. "And since that day, she has been unable to return to her home. She is trapped here, her power being eaten away by the darkness prevalent on this land."
Respectful silence pervades the atmosphere. I look away from Gandalf's gaze at the marble floor, wishing I had never entered this room in the first place. A strong and belligerent voice asks Gandalf a question, "I mean no disrespect," the voice begins and we all turn towards it, "but why can't she return home? Why hide here, and hide her presence? Why...HOW is she even still alive?"
"Good questions," Gandalf says. "Master Elrond is more informed of this than myself, him having collected her in the first place and having seen far more than I."
"I would not make such assertations on age, Gandalf," Elrond warns. "But you are right, I am more informed when it comes to Lyraniel's situation." He turns to the questioner. "Master Boromir, she cannot return home because the gates to her home have been shut. They have been shut since her Fall, when Sauron broke her and stole a part of her. Her kinsmen, fearing the Enemy may attempt to take their kingdom, shut their doors and she may not enter until she is whole."
The Man named Boromir looks at me with curious eyes, wondering what Sauron must have taken to have trapped me on this plane. Elrond continues speaking to him, "She hides here for the same reason we are concealing the Masters Baggins' identities from Sauron: she is of great import to his rise to power, and will be instrumental in his fall. She is living with us for the day that she can finally take back what is rightfully hers and be restored to her former glory, bringing the Dark Lord's downfall. Lyraniel lives like us, suppressing her abilities and saving her power, biding her time for the opportune moment to strike." I must admit, Elrond finishes on a rather impressive note, shocking the council into speechlessness.
"What exactly...did Sauron steal...from Lady Lyraniel, that helped him ascend?" Gimli the Dwarf asks tentatively, unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.
We all look at Elrond. His serious face darkens a little. "Her tongue."
