Author's Note: Hello everyone! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Finally managed to upload a chapter since my sister has discovered I have a laptop for college she keeps robbing it to go on MSN!!!! Thanks to all my reviewers you lot are the best. Hope 2008 is a great year for everyone. Now on with the story!
Ciunas;)
It was not often that she found herself wishing she was somewhere else but, unfortunately, this was one of those occasions. Despite Pippin's never-ending questioning, she felt curious gaze of many focused on her. Usually she could ignore stares but elven stares she found particularly disconcerting.
"Why do you wear such dark colours? Do you not like brighter shades?"
Indil smiled at the little being before her, who was trying to keep a watchful eye on his plate while keeping her in his sights. He was doing surprisingly well but his valiant efforts were in vain. Every so often, a sneaky hand would appear beneath his elbow and then vanish as quickly as it had surfaced.
"It's not really a question of fashion but of practicality. These colours help me to blend into the background when I am travelling and they don't gather as much dirt as brighter materials would."
She had to admire Merry's persistence as, once again, a small hand slid into view. Pippin was still considering her answer when the hand retreated, a plum secured safely within its grasp.
"I suppose but why didn't you change? You aren't travelling now or any time soon I hope?"
More than one pair of ears tuned into the conversation then. Up until now, Pippin had asked various questions over the course of the meal but none that allowed the crowd in the hall any kind of inkling as to what purpose the curious stranger in their midst might have in being present.
Conscious of the eavesdroppers Indil threw Pippin a grin from her place before returning her attention to her plate.
"No I shall not be travelling for a while Pippin."
Satisfied Pippin reached out blindly, searching his plate. She chuckled quietly as his hand frantically clutched at the plate, devoid of any spherical plum-like shapes. Spinning around Pippin faced his innocent looking cousin whose cheeks, at that moment in time, were suspiciously full.
"Merry could you stick to your own plate at least!"
Merry smiled guiltily before swallowing whatever was left of the plum whole.
"You know full well Pip that you would do the same."
Indil felt a stern tap on her left forearm. A swarthy dwarf sat squarely on the chair beside her. His small eyes were emphasised by the bushy eyebrows above them. A thick beard covered his lower face, braided on either side of his chin just below his mouth.
"Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service. Would you mind passing us some of that bread there miss?"
"Indil at your service and your family's sir." Indil returned, bowing before reaching for the bread that sat in front of Pippin.
Gimli glanced in surprise at her reply but quickly schooled his expression into one of passive indifference.
"It's not often that an elf knows the proper reply to a dwarven greeting."
Indil accepted the statement calmly while handing the basket of bread to her stout companion.
"Regrettably I cannot lay claim to that compliment in favour of the Elven race since I do not belong to it."
This did not visibly shock the dwarf but his fleeting glimpse in her direction indicated a secondary study.
"Well then I still may compliment you on your knowledge of dwarven customs no matter which race you happen to belong to."
"In that case I thank you."
Turning to the dwarves alongside him, Indil took the conversation with Gimli to be at an end. The brief exchange had resulted, thankfully, in an elf sitting across from Pippin being questioned in the same manner Indil had been subjected to.
Sweeping the hall in its entirety Indil could see why Elrond's home was known to many as the last Homely House. Though by no standards a house, the citadel of Rivendell exuded a welcoming façade bolstered by a pleasant atmosphere. There was now, however, a perceptible wariness that had once not existed but it would be considered nothing by the mortals who visited Rivendell in these times, only the elves and other immortals remembered Rivendell of old.
The Hall consisted of a long main table that rested upon a dais, at which Indil and her companions sat. It alone stretched the width of the hall and faced the main oaken entrance doors. Perpendicular to it sat four tables, two on either side of a wide path at the centre of the hall, probably used during large festivals or such. Though there were no hearths visible the air felt as if it was being heated to a comfortable degree by blazing fires.
Above, wooden beams of a dark grain lined the ceiling from one sidewall to the other. A single candelabrum hung from the centre of the hall, quite unnecessarily to Indils' mind as light poured through the windows on either side of the hall, however in the depth of winter it probably bolstered the weak evening light.
Now the hall was alive with merry greetings and happy meetings. Apart from the dwarves that sat to Indils immediate left and the Halflings to her right, Elves of renown sat in jovial companionship.
At the head of the table sat Lord Elrond, wise and venerable. His face was one of youth but his eyes held a light akin to that at the dimming of the day. Noble and dignified he presided over the meal, talking to both Gandalf and Glorfindel who sat on either side of him.
Glorfindel, the mighty Balrog-slayer, sat attentitively listening quietly to all that passed around him. Indil had seen him before on her travels and remarked upon his face that was as fair and young as it had been all those years ago. When he chanced to add something to the conversation his voice flowed with such ease and grace it could have only been described as music. He was a mighty warrior though, his power evident in his stature and movements, lest it be forgotten.
A lady, seated at the top of the table next to Lord Glorfindel, could not be mistaken for anyone else so close was she in likeness to her father. Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of her people, gracefully ate her meal in silent contemplation. When she spoke to any of her companions, Indil could see the true beauty she possessed. Her gentle manner and welcoming smile endeared her to all she encountered, even the party of dwarves found her to be pleasant and amiable.
Next to her Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, conversed with Aragorn who sat opposite. It seemed Boromir had begun to involve himself more readily in the daily rituals at Rivendell and with its occupants a week after the council according to Gandalf. Dressed in fine clothes befitting his station, he looked every bit the Lord with his well-kept beard and noble bearing. Ever courteous and friendly he gave no outwardly sign that he was worried.
Gandalf had mentioned his anxiety to begin the quest and travel southward. It was to be expected. Gondor stands on the brink of war, weakened and isolated. Osgiliath had been recently retaken if she had heard correctly, a blow to the moral of the Gondorian army no doubt. . . especially without their captain to maintain their courage and hope in these desperate times.
All too soon, the plates and dishes were being cleared and the party began to move towards a more informal environment available in the Hall of Fire. Rising with the rest of the group Indil moved behind the hobbits as they followed the party uncertainly.
"Where are we going now?"
"Where do we always go after the afternoon meal Pip?"
"The Hall of Fire again?" whispered Pippin incredulously. "Do elves ever go anywhere else after they have eaten their fill?"
Indil could not help but laugh to herself at the conversation being conducted in lowered voices between the two young hobbits. She did not have the heart to point out to them that, most likely, every elf in the party, currently walking to said destination, could hear their discussion. She was so distracted by the Halflings she did not hear the other set of steps just behind her.
"Forgive me, my lady but what is so amusing?"
Indil started slightly at the voice now beside her. Boromir looked at her questioningly but not without a gleam of laughter in his own grey eyes.
"An incident which occurred earlier this morn, my lord, which had just come to mind." Replied Indil with as serious an expression as she could muster.
Boromir laughed quietly and fell into step alongside her. He was tall, slightly more than she, and had a confident gait. This man was obviously capable of handling himself in whatever situation he happened to be confronted with, whether it be on the battlefield or in a more formal setting.
"Pardon my ill manners, my lord, I am Indil, an associate of Gandalf the Grey."
Boromir smiled easily and made a point of stopping and bowing while introducing himself.
"I am Boromir, my lady, eldest son of the Steward of Gondor and Captain of the Osgiliath Guard."
Noting the pride in his voice as he introduced himself Indil saw a means by which talking to Boromir could be easily facilitated. Conversation stopped between them for a time as they entered the Hall of Fire and their eyes adjusted to the light.
There were no tables in the Hall of Fire, seats were dotted about the floor but all were turned towards the blaze that crackled happily in the enormous hearth. The party entered slowly, filling up the hall bathed in golden firelight. The hobbits took their seats beside Bilbo, who dozed off now and again against one of the carved pillars. As Lord Elrond sat in the chair prepared for him, goblets were handed out filled with a sweet liquor that Indil recognised as dorwinion wine. Music softly filled the hall, easily working itself into the background and around the inhabitants of its domain.
"Shall we, my lady?"
Indil bowed slightly as Boromir led her to some available seats near the hobbits and with a clear view of the hearth. As she passed Indil caught Olorins gaze and smiled. After a moment he returned it, eyes twinkling, as Boromir settled beside her.
"So," began Indil. "Lord Boromir tell me of your journey to Rivendell."
Boromir regaled her with tales of encounters with orcs near the River Entwash, sleepless nights passing through the Gap of Rohan and hours of riding through Dunland and Eregion. Indil was a good listener and polite as Boromir described every land he had journeyed over, even though she herself had seen all of them before.
"So I reached my destination safely as you can see, my lady."
"Let us be thankful, lord Boromir, such perils that haunt these lands are not easily faced nor endured but, then again, you are accustomed to such things are you not being a captain in the Gondorian army?"
Indil knew only too well what affect she could have on men and sometimes it was a definite aid. Shifting ever so slightly in her seat she gazed at Boromir with a look of praise and admiration. Colouring faintly at her interest, Boromir lost no time in launching into describing, in detail, his various exploits as a captain.
He was proud of his country and fellow men, that much was clear to her as he spoke, it was also clear that Boromir was a tried and tested warrior who had faced many battles and skirmishes in his time.Perhaps my previous assumtion concerning his experience was incorrect.
Despite some slight embellishment, his stories of war and battle were modest and humble, he continually pointed at the bravery of his men and the courage of the people of Minas Tirith when explaining victories.
There was still something unsettling however when Boromir began to speak of Mordor and the evil power that rests within its depths. A gleam in his eye, the strengthened rubbing of tunic material between his fingers on his lap, an undertone in his voice gave rise to some slight alarm within Indil that she could not explain. His manner was perfectly cheerful and at the same time it was vaguely disconcerting.
As the evening wore on and the shadows danced upon the walls, the music became of a more relaxing nature compared to the livelier melodies earlier. Resting against each other, the hobbits sat side by side, enjoying the minstrels' fine lute playing. It was not terribly late, indeed they had not been there three hours in total, when Indil felt it was time to leave the warmth of the Hall and consider all that she had gleaned from the fellowship during the day. Boromir was still talking animatedly when Indil yawned, covering her mouth as manners dictated but not in a way that hid it from his view.
"I beg your pardon, my lady, I am boring you with tales of war. Please, let us talk of something else."
"Do not be troubled lord Boromir. I arrived late last night and I'm afraid I have not managed to rest fully just yet. I find your tales of Gondor most intriguing. Maybe I shall retire early and then be able for a longer discussion tomorrow after a good nights sleep?"
Indil posed the thought gently while smiling at the man before her. No matter that she would probably sleep very little tonight, he will not be aware of it.
"Let me escort you to your rooms then, my lady."
"There in no need," spoke Indil softly, standing over him. "They are not far and I shall probably walk through the gardens before I retire. Please enjoy the rest of the evening, I would not wish to be the cause of your leaving just as Lord Glorfindel is being persuaded to sing a lay of Gondolin."
Sure enough Lord Glorfindel was being accosted from various sides to sing and seemed to be, finally, giving into demand.
"I could not allow. . ."
"Lady Indil are you retiring for the evening?" interrupted Gandalf, who had moved beside the hobbits during the course of the evening.
"Why yes, I am Mithrandir. I find myself unforgivably tired when Lord Boromir has such interesting tales of the men of the South." Indil smiled at his ingenuity.
"Then may I impose on you?" requested Gandalf, coyly. "I am in need of company. My mind is not as it used to be and dorwinion wine seems to have got the better of me. Rivendell appears to grow new halls every year and I do believe your quarters are down the hall from mine?"
"Indeed they are!" smiled Indil. " Lord Boromir, would you mind if I accompanied Gandalf?"
"Not at all, my lady. It has been a pleasure. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow." Answered Boromir, bowing graciously.
"As do I my lord."
Indil moved to Gandalfs side and helped him rise from the chair he had been resting on. Moving quietly they avoided disrupting the crowd, whose attention was centred upon the fair elven lord glinting in the ochre glow.
Outside the air was noticeably colder as the pair walked away from the Hall of Fire and into the moonlit gardens. Gandalf slowed the pace of their stroll to an amble as they moved among the blooming flowers of vibrant colour.
"Well, Lord Boromir appears to be quite enamoured." Chuckled Gandalf.
Indil smiled ruefully at her friend as they progressed through the gardens.
"Perhaps I should have talked to him in a different way but it was the first one that came to mind."
"Certainly."
It wasn't until they had reached the grove Indil had used earlier while waiting on Aragorn that they had managed to stifle their laughter. It was then in the cool night air, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the sounds of the nearby stream that the discussion turned to matters in hand.