I'm still alive!
Here is the much awaited sixth chapter, and I really can't even begin to thank you all for how you've stuck by me and encouraged me, without pushing or demanding. You've all been incredible, telling me to take my time and get through things. Not all of you know, but a family member of mine passed away so I've been dealing with a lot of family issues and such, as well as not having a home and splitting up with my partner. This chapter was a mission and a half to complete, but it's a very long one so hopefully that will make up for my absence!
A HUGE thank you to: Bigglesworth. Kuon. Hanamaruko. Akasha Sundancer. Casper6six6. Tierney. DeLacus. Eldar0516. TheParanoidGraverobber. And a few other nameless Guests who have encouraged me on, and who are to thank for this chapter having come out at all! You guys are truly the best. If I've forgotten anyone, PLEASE let me know. It was not intentional, but as it's been over a few months my brain is kinda mushy over that.
And yes, Legolas makes his first appearance! As well as a few other much loved characters, so I do hope that I do them justice. This is just my interpretation of events and characters, not an exact rendition, so I do apologise if some may disagree. For the purpose of this work of fiction, written purely for fun, this is how I've imagined things.
Anywho, keep that in mind when reading and enjoy!
- Torrance Rose -
Elvish words used:
Meril - Rose (Flower).
Chapter Title inspired by the song 'Dark Secret' by Matthew Sweet.
Unedited, as per usual. Let me know if you find mistakes!
"A Council Meeting has been called for tomorrow morning."
"What?" Elle glanced distractedly up from her book. She was reading through historical tomes, surreptitiously trying to study up on the Wolves of Mordor. Trying being the figurative word, seeing as how she wasn't really getting anywhere.
Gandalf had finally requested her presence that afternoon, and Elle wanted to feel like she was going in somewhat prepared. But it was like digging for a pin in a haystack. There didn't seem to be much information on her supposed heritage whatsoever, at least not in the section of Annals she had access to.
Once or twice the Werewolves had been mentioned, as was a creature called Draugluin 'the Sire', but it was sporadic and barely referenced footnotes. She'd not even scratched the surface.
"A Council Meeting," Arwen repeated patiently from where she sat opposite her, "It's been called for ten o'clock tomorrow morning, they're to discuss the One Ring."
Elle blanched, "Are you serious? Why haven't I heard of this yet?"
The One Ring. The very thought sent a shiver up her spine. She had no idea how Frodo managed to wear that dreaded thing day in and day out, letting it suck the life out of him like some ugly parasite.
Arwen tilted her head curiously, "I do not jest, Elle. I'm quite serious. It's likely that my father did not wish for you to know. I myself am not permitted to be present, either."
Elle resisted the urge to snort at Arwen's otherworldly misunderstanding of the 21st Century phrase. Instead, she focused on her outrage at being left out of the loop of things, glaring across the sunlit gardens of Arwen's private courtyard.
She'd carried her own well enough these past couple of days, and proved herself more than trustworthy over the course of their journey from Bree. You'd think they'd have removed that pole of distrust from their asses by now, surrounding her involvement.
"What?! I'm not even allowed to go? That's bullshit!"
Arwen flinched, covering her mouth as she stifled a giggle into her hand, "Someone could hear you, Elle. Though, I do agree."
"I hope they hear me!" Elle grumbled, smacking a hand down on the polished marble bench they shared, "I've been in the thick of things before they even got involved! That's just not fair."
Arwen shrugged, "Of course it isn't. But you must be used to this sort of thing by now, it's not as if us women get an extraordinary amount of leeway when it comes to diplomatic decisions. Unless, of course, you are the Lady Galadriel."
Elle recognised the name, but couldn't quite put a face to it.
"Whatever, where I'm from women are equal to men." Elle replied with a sniff of disdain.
"We elleths are - to an extent - treated as equals, too. But again - to a degree - we should obey our fathers and our husbands, surely you must be familiar with that?" Arwen questioned, laying aside her book of poetry.
This time Elle couldn't contain her snort of derision, but she artfully dodged around the unwanted topic. She was not about to get into a debate on feminism and equal rights, not in a world damn near Medieval in comparison.
"Yeah, right, sure. I guess I've just been on my own so long I haven't really had anyone to answer to." She provided offhandedly, glancing back down at her book.
"Elle!" A voice hailed across the gardens, saving her from any more awkward questions she wasn't quite sure how to answer. She hastily put her book aside, just in time to brace herself for the two hobbits that came barrelling like wayward missiles into her arms.
"Oomph!" She wheezed as the wind was knocked out of her. Damn, these boys were built like sacks of potatoes.
"Sorry!" Pippin squeaked, patting her mussed hair back into place.
"It's fine," Elle rasped, "Where's your cousin?"
"Just went upstairs with Bilbo." Merry told her, plopping himself down on the last available space between the girls.
Elle had met Bilbo yesterday afternoon, to let him know that his nephew was awake and would be well enough to come and see him tomorrow. According to the boys the poor, ancient hobbit had aged dramatically in the span of a few short weeks. He'd been too frail, even, to traverse the many halls and staircases up into the hospital wing to visit Frodo.
Still, she'd had the same starstruck expression as when she'd first met Aragorn. And yeah, so she didn't remember a blasted thing about The Lord of the Rings or the fate of the Fellowship anymore, but she could still remember the tale of The Hobbit word for word. She'd actually been able to ask Bilbo Baggins himself one or two things about his adventures, and the old hobbit had been nothing but thrilled to comply. When she'd started referring to him as 'the thief', he'd practically quivered and puffed up with pride.
Smiling quietly to herself, Elle was pulled from her thoughts as she was thwacked in the back of her head with a stick and jostled from her perch onto the dewy grass.
Both hobbits stilled in shock from where they sat wrestling for the spare seat beside her; Pippin with a weathered little branch in one hand and a grip on his friend in the other, and Merry with a fistful of Pippin's auburn-brown curls and a dangerous hold on his pointed ear.
"What the hell are you two doing?!" Elle growled as she rubbed the back of her throbbing head, Arwen falling into peals of laughter beside them.
"I'm so sorry, Elle!" Pippin began, scrambling from the stone bench as he came to help her up.
"I'm really, really sorry." Merry leapt to grasp her free hand, lifting her up from the floor, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," She grumbled, dusting her dress off. She was relieved there weren't any grass stains to mar the fine, peach fabric of the gown.
Another of the elvish masterpieces, stylised to fit her perfectly. Arwen had had three of her unused gowns, including the first white one, tailored for her stay. These first two were lounging day robes, and the third meant for more formal occasions and such. She was more than a little touched when she'd found them laying crisp and clean on her bed the second night here.
"Now that you dunderheads are finished," She fixed them both with a hard glare, "I've got some reading to do. I'll be in the Annals, if anyone asks."
Snatching up her armful of books, Elle parted toward the library with a wave. She'd memorised the path there from these private gardens, and the path from the library to her room. They were pretty much the three things she was able to find on her own here, although she still hadn't figured out how to get down to the baths yet. Elle swore that there must be some sort of charm or whatever that was constantly rearranging the route. It was the only explanation. After all, she'd gotten pretty damn good at finding things with this new nose of hers.
She could tell her inability to locate the baths without the help of an elf to guide her irritated the wolf to no end, feeling somewhat incapable and invalid because of it. Which was ridiculous; she'd never understand the wolf's psyche and reasonings for these trivial things.
Her wolf didn't very much like the elves, which was funny. But for some unknown reason was almost as fond of the hobbits as she was. At one point when she'd been berating Merry for tricking Pippin into a nasty prank, the thought mischievous little pups crossed her mind, and she knew for sure that those hadn't been her words.
The wolf's mind only seemed to be cementing itself within her, intertwining to the point of no return. Elle could hardly recall what it felt like to not have the beast within, to not have that primal presence waiting in the wings for her call. And, strangely enough, she didn't want to. In spite of everything, she wanted nothing more than to stay with her wolf. They belonged together. She could feel it.
She shuddered to think what it had been like as a baby to have been ripped apart. It would be like severing her own limbs with a butter knife, and Elle could only be thankful that she did not remember the experience.
No wonder she'd been a challenging baby.
Elle received a tight smile from the elvish equivalent to a Librarian as she walked in to the Annals; a room so vast and glorious she could happily live in here forever. Not that she could understand the majority of books in here, but there were sections in what Arwen had dubbed as the 'common tongue'.
She hadn't started off on the best of terms with the Librarians, nitpicking and poking at the way they ran the place. Their organisational system was a mystery to her, with little to no records or indexing. She had no idea how they located anything, and therefore constantly needed their aid to find the type of books she'd been looking for. Elle supposed it was sufficient enough. For, you know, a cave troll.
She crinkled her nose as she took a seat at the back by a large, open window. Of course, they probably have cave trolls here so she shouldn't really joke about it.
The bay-window let in the sweetest breeze, and Elle found that the different scents wafting in greatly amused her wolf while she was busy reading. Plus, the view was spectacular and utterly charming in providing distraction.
It had been just a couple of days ago when Arwen had lent her a book to read to Frodo, that she'd become accustomed to the wolf's limited attention span and insubordinate nature.
She'd been happily reading, immersed in the story and enjoying herself, but was unbeknownst to her that the wolf had quickly grown bored of the mental exercise. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd slammed the book shut without any warning and darted up to go outside.
It was only Sam's sudden jump about a foot in the air that had her back-pedalling toward reality, and she had to actually ask herself what the heck she was doing.
One sweep through her mind had her narrowing in on the problem. The wolf wanted to get out of the stuffy room; to move, to investigate, and to top it all off it was famished. She was having fun, but her dear little wolf wasn't having any of it. It wanted to hunt, and play, and explore. Not sit inside all day, cooped up and reading.
Ugh.
So they'd compromised. In the morning Elle, as usual, would wake with the sun to carry out her daily Tai Chi ritual. She'd picked it up again now that she wasn't on the run for her life, as well as a few of her yoga routines.
That benefited both of them, and while the wolf had been confused at first it had grown to anticipate the languorous stretches and powerful movements of their body. She would then have breakfast with Arwen (except once, when the beautiful she-elf was requested to attend with her father), bathe and would visit Frodo for the day. Once dusk had fallen, the night would belong to the wolf's inquisitive, adventurous side and she'd explore a bit by following an unusual scent, jogging throughout some of the gardens or pushing her limits by stalking random elves without being caught.
Not that she let it out or anything, she wasn't stupid. And actually, she didn't even know if she could here in Rivendell. It had been no struggle at all, even after dark, to control the wolf. She decided that it must be because of the elven city and it's ethereal influence, calming and soothing her more barbaric impulses.
It hadn't even tried to break free, though on some level she could sense it's growing frustration. But it was a peaceful kind of frustration; an, 'Oh darn I wish I could run about, but I guess I'll be patient' kind of frustration.
But it was her frustration, too. She was dreaming of midnight runs through the forest, at some maddening pace that stretched their muscles and ability to the limit. Just the mere memory felt fantastically free and unrestrained, and Elle wondered daily, wistfully, what it might feel like to experience it firsthand. To just let go.
The elves pretty much thought of her as that bizarre human girl, and according to Arwen had decided it must be because she was a female. It was incredibly rare for women to visit Imladris, happening maybe once in a generation, and they never stayed for long.
So they tended to avoid her as much as possible, and at nighttime the city might as well have been deserted to her. Elle liked it that way, though at times she sensed unseen eyes watching her in the dark during her more unusual activities.
Around midday, Elle stood and stretched her back with a groan. She'd been bent over for hours, to no avail. She'd discovered no more than what Radagast had already told her of the wolves; that they were great beasts infused with evil, and created by Morgoth himself to guard his domains.
She just knew that there must be more on them somewhere, if only she could actually find it. Elle had a sneaking suspicion that they kept those darker tomes locked away, and doubted she'd be able to access them any time soon. And even if she could, she figured she'd probably need a translator to read those.
Deciding to take a walk through the stacks to get the blood back in her cramped legs, Elle laid her current book down and followed her nose.
She wandered, picking at book spines and browsing as she went, up into the furthest reaches of the Annals. The Library had four levels, but she'd hardly investigated the highest floor and thought that that would be a decent place to start.
Maybe if she poked her nose into a few places around here, she might actually find something useful. The top floor ringed around the walls similarly to each other level, with a view of the ground floor below from the balustrade. She breathed in deep, loving the musky aroma of parchment and ink. This felt like home.
Her meeting was in an hour, so time was short, but after weaving through the towering bookcases she found a door at the end of a corridor that looked particularly promising.
Shifting a look around, she made sure no one was watching as she eased the door open soundlessly and slipped through the small crack.
Elle was surprised to find herself in an office of sorts, with a large mahogany desk and burnished furniture. Countless tomes filled one wall, but rather than finding herself drawn to the books her ears picked up the sound of a conversation close by.
She walked to the archway across from her, looking out to a balcony that led down an open hallway of more concealed rooms.
"We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard!"
She recognised the stern, commanding tone of Lord Elrond, and backed up into the office just in time to watch Gandalf walk out from a room down the hall onto the balcony.
He looked drained, staring out desolately to the golden horizon. Elle watched on from the doorway, eyes wide and mouth parted in anticipation.
"Gandalf..." Lord Elrond continued solemnly and the wizard halted at his words, "The Ring cannot stay here."
She remembered this conversation, like a tidal wave of emotion that brought along the distant memory. Yes, of course, this is why they formed the Fellowship. Sauron's forces were too strong, otherwise they might've hidden the Ring here.
Gandalf sagged in defeat, running a weathered hand through the wiry length of his grey beard.
"This peril belongs to all middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it." Lord Elrond carried on determinedly, "The time of the elves is over, my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The dwarves? They hide in their mountains, seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others."
"It is in men we must place our hope." Was Gandalf's answer.
"Men? Men are weak."
Gandalf gestured for Lord Elrond to follow, moving down the balcony hallway together in Elle's direction.
Oh, shit!
She scrambled back from the door, missing what they were saying and praying that she remain unnoticed as she slipped back into the Library.
Gods, when did she become such an eavesdropper?
Elle wasted no time in scurrying behind the stacks into an alcove, peering over the top of some books as she watched the door she'd just vacated open to admit the two prolific men.
"-There's no strength left in the world of men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless." Lord Elrond was saying as they entered.
"There is one who could unite them," Gandalf murmured as he led the way with a hand running along the balustrade, "One who could reclaim the Throne of Gondor."
"He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile." Lord Elrond replied.
She let out a silent gasp, that was Aragorn. He could unite Middle-Earth? She'd forgotten that. So, wait... Why did he turn from that path? She vaguely remembered it having something to do with his family, or along the lines of that.
Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that the two men had stilled at the top of the stairs, before Gandalf's voice floated back to her.
"Elle, you may come out now."
Well, fuck.
She shuffled out from her hiding place, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she found them both watching her without surprise. She expected fury, or outrage. Instead, Elle was met with unconcealed amusement as their eyes danced merrily.
"Eavesdropping, Elle? I'd expect it from Peregrin or Meriadoc, but this is a surprise. Perhaps those boys are rubbing off on you more than I expected, hm?" Gandalf chuckled.
"Erm, sorry Sir..." She answered awkwardly, offering an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to, it just kind of... happened."
Lord Elrond laughed, "Well then, Lady Elle. Now that you are here, shall we move up the time for our meeting?"
Didn't she still have an hour left before she had to undergo this torture with them? She hadn't even hit gold yet on any history of her forebears, and was definitely undermanned.
Too afraid to argue - especially with how lenient they were being about her spying on them - she nodded sullenly.
"Wonderful!" Gandalf's blue eyes shone as he gently took her arm and led her back toward the study.
Elle took a shaky breath in, heat prickling between her shoulder blades as nerves tore anxiously at her stomach. How much did they know? What should she say?
Deciding she was sick of the lies, she went with open honesty. And an apology, of course. Lying didn't really sit well with her under any circumstances.
"I- I'm sorry, Sir." Her voice cracked, and she cleared it uncomfortably, "I- I didn't want to lie, but Radagast said I should until you got back."
Stupid, Elle scolded herself, now you sound like a taddle-tale.
Gandalf nodded his head to her words, "Indeed. I hear that I have you to thank for my rescue?"
She blushed and shook her head vigorously, "No, I just let it slip up a little early. Your moth would have told Radagast eventually."
Lord Elrond sat behind the desk as Gandalf drew her up a chair, seating himself beside her.
"One moment, dear." Gandalf said as he tapped the butt of his staff into the wooden floor, "There. Silencing charm, don't want to be overheard."
She sat down nervously, both men watching her with calculating, curious eyes. Neither seemed wary, or angry with her for that matter, but Elle knew how easily those emotions could be concealed behind a cool façade.
"Do you know why you were brought here, Elle?" Gandalf asked after a moment, tilting his chin.
"Not really, no..." She trailed off, and when neither looked to be picking up the conversation she continued, "Radagast told me that I... I was born here? But that lady, she took me away so I couldn't... hurt people. That's right, isn't it?"
"It is," Lord Elrond said, "The Valar see all, and Yavanna knew that we would need allies in this coming war."
"There was always the possibility to morph dark into light, to create an ally out of Morgoth's wrath. But it was only a potential, nothing is ever set in stone. When you were lost to your brethren, Yavanna seized the opportunity and led you into the care of our dear Radagast."
Elle's mouth was probably hanging open, but she was too glued on the conversation to notice. Answers, finally answers.
"So you do know what I am then? Like, really know?" She breathed as it was finally confirmed, "Why aren't you angry, or throwing me out of here for lying to you?"
Of course, she'd guessed that they knew. How could they not? But to have the proof in front of her right now was kind of unnerving.
Why hadn't they locked her up or killed her yet?
"Oh my dear," Gandalf admonished her in his lovely rumbling timbre, and she was immediately taken aback by his tone, "Why would we do that? We knew what you were before you did, and have sat council with Radagast many times before on the matter. Under the absence of my presence, it was only logical to hide your true nature from your companions. Aragorn, while a noble man, would not have taken to the news kindly had I not been there to abate the situation. At his most compassionate, he would have left you behind."
She knew that was true. He'd hardly allowed her company knowing she was just a woman, let alone anything more. But it still made her head whirl, knowing that they'd been planning for her arrival since before she'd even been made aware of this world.
In a way, it made her furious to have her life laid out and planned before her. She kept that to herself though, fearful that they might change their minds and have her chained up like a dog instead.
"Okay... Makes sense." She agreed, "But I still don't get why you're not taking precautions. I could have flipped the switch and gone mental by now."
"A possibility." Gandalf conceded.
"But an unlikely one. This world has flourished under Yavanna's care, and she would not be so reckless nor so under-planned. Faith, Lady Elle, has kept you bound."
"So I'm bound, then? By what?"
"Figuratively, in a way, you are bound by your own self." Gandalf nodded, "Yavanna chose you because she sensed the potential for good. That is what binds your actions, until you find the strength within yourself to merge fully and still remain untouched by darkness."
"The essence of Imladris, you may have found, has aided in dulling the nature of the wolf. All creatures find peace within these walls." Lord Elrond added as he steepled his long fingers in thought before him.
She nodded, leaning forward in her seat, "Yes, I barely notice her presence anymore, especially during the day. It's like... she's gone into hibernation, or something."
Gandalf chuckled at her choice of words, "Aye, it would very much be like that."
"But what does this mean for me?" Elle went on obliviously, "Will I ever get back home? As much as I've always dreamed of this place, it's not home."
The two men shared a weighted glance.
"Elle, to go back to your world would be unwise. A Wolf of Mordor is not made for such a place, you know this. You would be hunted down and killed." Gandalf spoke gently, like he were breaking the news of death to a loved one.
He might as well have been.
"What?" She whispered, her lips unfeeling and numb, "But I... I have to get home. I have a -" She was about to say life. Friends, family, and the like. But she didn't really. Not anything worth going back for, anyway.
But that didn't change the fact that this world was alien to her, and her idea of home certainly didn't involve orcs, elves and evil overlords.
"I understand. This world is not what you are accustomed to. Mayhap, once the war is done and the seeds sown, you may find a path back to your homeland." Lord Elrond murmured thoughtfully.
"Until then my dear, you can only fulfil what you were returned here to do." Gandalf pointed out as he leant back into his chair.
"And you guys have no idea what that is?" She asked with a hint of derision, "I'm just supposed to, what? Go with the flow?"
Gandalf chuckled as Elrond replied, "Your place in this world will come to you in time. Only you can find it."
"Oh-kay Cryptic Guy, and in the meantime I'm just going to go around transforming into a wolf at the full moon and eating people's hearts out?" She quipped, her handle on her temperamental nerves slipping.
Gandalf laughed again, "Heavens no, where did you ever hear such rubbish? You will shift at will once you are ready, and when you are ready you will be in complete control alongside the wolf. There will be no separate instinct, you will be the wolf just as much as the wolf is already you."
"However the full moon is, I've heard, an interesting time for a wolf. I am unaware of what it is to the species, though the wolves have been known to become much more in touch with their primal side during that time." Lord Elrond brought up matter-of-factly.
Well, that sounded promising. Elle could hardly wait until the next full moon... Or, not.
"Fantastic." She responded drily, "Well, at least I won't become a crazed mutt. When will I change?"
"Your shift will occur, as I said, when you are ready. It is of your own design." Gandalf said kindly, tapping his gnarled fingers against his staff.
"And will it hurt?"
He looked momentarily startled by the question, before the look was swallowed up by a calm, serene mask. "I do not know."
Lord Elrond offered no follow up comment, so Elle barrelled on with her questions and ignored the pang of unease in her gut. If it was going to hurt, there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it.
"Why is Yavayar even interested in me? Wouldn't it have been easier to just kill me from the get go, and be done with all these 'buts' and 'maybes'? I mean, what if I kill someone? What then?"
"Yavanna." Gandalf corrected, "And no, it would not have been easier. We are not mindless killers, Elle. Who are we to question the Valar? Yavanna chose to spare your life for a reason. She brought you into our care for a reason. You have a part to play in this war, a part on the side of light. It could be that that part is only symbolic, in order to show our people that there are indeed shades of grey, that there is hope. The dark does not have to stay in the dark. Or mayhap there is something more, we do not know. Only you can discover that."
He leant forward now, a reassuring hand on her arm, "And we do not believe that you could kill someone. Radagast certainly did not think you capable, not even as the wolf. Not really. The impulse is there, but so is the indecision and the moral value."
Elle breathed in deeply, calming her fraying mind as the persistent thump of a headache began in the background. This was all so much. So much to believe, let alone understand or accept.
She paused, opening her eyes to survey their reaction, "I've tried reading about my ancestral past, but it's been useless. Who is Draugluin, and what is he to me?"
They both visibly stiffened as she said the name, gazes meeting over her head.
"What? What is it?" She pushed, looking back and forth between them both.
"His name is not one we often hear anymore. I suppose, with your curiosity, it was inevitable..." Gandalf muttered off in thought.
"Draugluin was the Sire of all Werewolves. He was created by Morgoth himself, for the use of the Dark Lord Sauron. He was a guard dog, if you will. Unmatched by all on Middle-Earth bar Sauron himself." Lord Elrond supplied, his voice soft and soothing compared to the evil he spoke of.
"And I'm, what? Related to this guy?" The thought made her feel sick.
"Aye, you are. He was spawned from a purely evil spirit, the embodiment of all malevolence. He is your great-great-grandfather, and was killed many centuries ago by the powerful hound Huan of Valinor."
"Hang on a tick, I'm spawned from pure evil?" Her voice rose to an imperceptible squeak, a sensation like her heart was being squeezed curdling within her chest.
Gandalf's hand was back on hers, cool against her burning skin, "My dear, do not be alarmed. Draugluin was spawned of evil, you were merely a biproduct brought into this world to be shaped as such. You have just as much good in you as any other human being, your instincts are just a little more off. But you have already shown yourself to be innately good when you defended the hobbits against the Nine. You might have ran, they were not after a human girl. You remained, and fought on. That is not the mark of evil."
The old wizard's words were precisely what she needed to hear to calm her frantic mind, a wave of relief and mild nausea washing over her. Elle wrapped an arm around her middle, nodding with him as she exhaled heavily.
"I don't feel evil." She admitted, "I think if you're evil, you probably know it. Sometimes I... I feel like I might like to snap, like I'm stretching myself too thin, but I know deep down I'm not that person."
"Precisely. If your intentions were anything but good, you wouldn't react so harshly to the idea of being evil. You want to be good, and that will always be the deciding factor." Gandalf agreed with a warm smile.
"When I left, Gandalf... When I was brought here, there was some... Blue orb thingy, it was at my work. I don't know what it was, but it's like it compelled me into touching it. Is that what sent me back here? Was that... Yavanna?" Elle tucked a stray curl behind her ear, focussing wholly on the wizard's reply.
"...Will-o-the-Wisp. They are Fae lights, a form of Yavanna's. Said to lead the skeptic toward their fate, and the willing toward their doom." Lord Elrond spoke up, his pale blue eyes lighting up like a summer's day, "I have seen them myself, in my youth."
"Is that what took my memories away, too?" She prodded curiously, liking where the conversation was going. Everything was becoming clear, she no longer felt like she was being kept in the dark.
"Your memories?" Gandalf queried.
Lord Elrond cocked his head, appearing all the more elf-like as his eyes searched hers, "She has lost much in coming here. Memories of this world... But how?"
"Where I come from, this place... It's just a story, words on a page. It was one of my favourite stories, I knew everything that happened. But now... since I got here, it's all lost. I can't remember anything that happens anymore." She said, anxiety pulling her brows together, "I was fine a couple of days ago, but it all just slipped away."
"Interesting..." Gandalf murmured pensively.
"Such knowledge would have greatly affected the outcome of this war. It would be too dangerous, especially if Mordor caught wind of this. You would have been in too grave a peril. Clearly this is the work of the Valar." Lord Elrond answered decidedly.
"In this world you speak of, our plight was just a story?" Gandalf turned to her.
"Yeah, a really great one. It was a huge franchise, with movies and everything. I was always so drawn to this world..." She chuckled, "Maybe this is why."
"Fascinating." Gandalf said almost excitably, "It's almost as if these tales of our world eased your transition. Yes, perhaps this was Yavanna's doing. It must all feel somewhat familiar to you at least, ensuing no lasting shock or panic."
"And what of an adoptive family and friends? To leave those you love behind must be very traumatic, indeed." Elrond consoled her.
She stopped herself from flinching just in time, but that in itself didn't go unnoticed by the two pairs of overly perceptive eyes.
"I'm... I don't have a family. I was brought up in the foster system, the government put me in the care of random families until I became a legal adult. No proper friends either. Not any who'll miss me, anyway." She offered by way of explanation, her tone carefully neutral, "I guess it was just the most opportune time in my life to ease the transition, like you said."
She couldn't stand the pity. They kept their faces free of emotion, but she could sense it coming off of them in waves.
"Do..." She halted, tugging on the hem of her sleeve with shaking fingers, "Do I have... a family, out here?"
She glanced up to find Gandalf's grey eyes on hers, his expression compassionate yet somewhat guarded.
"Most of the Wolves of Mordor have been bred out into the Wargs and the White Wolves. You were an oddity, but..." Gandalf appraised her, "We believe there is a significant possibility, considering your being here, that there may still be others like you. We would not believe there to be many, if at all. Perhaps one, maybe two, others. But we do not know positively. You are the first sighted Werewolf in hundreds of years, Elle. If there are any others, they are no longer residing at Mordor."
"Okay." Elle nodded resolutely, "Well, let's hope I'm the last one then. I'm not that into family reunions."
Elle left the meeting feeling thoroughly shook up.
She had to clench her hands into tight fists just to stop the trembling, as she wandered back down through the halls aimlessly in deep thought.
By now, everyone knew what she really was.
Aragorn had been summoned toward the end of their discussion, and Gandalf had explained everything to the rightful King. He'd been angry at first, damn near murderous actually. But he'd calmed right down after both Gandalf and Lord Elrond vouched for her.
Of course, he'd seen firsthand her own devotion toward the cause. She'd risked her life just as much as he had in escorting the hobbits to Rivendell. And while he'd heard horror stories about the werewolves of the past, he'd reluctantly agreed to help assimilate her as the rest of the party were likely to react badly to the news.
He'd departed soon after with Lord Elrond, each to go and inform their respective parties of her true identity. Elrond to a select few of the elves, and Aragorn to the hobbits (they'd all agreed the less who knew, the better). She'd wanted to tell the boys herself, but Gandalf insisted it be best if she weren't present. They needed to soak in the news, not run screaming or feel obliged to react in a certain way.
Arwen found her first.
She was sitting on the edge of a large arched window, one leg dangling lazily outside as she looked out into the front courtyard. The gates were closed as usual, the very same she'd been welcomed through just days ago.
Would she still be as welcome here, now that they knew what she was to become?
Lost in her dark reverie, she didn't notice the she-elf's approach until she sat down beside her. Even with her keen hearing, elves were creepy that way.
"Are you alright?"
Elle glanced to her right in surprise, "I'm fine, just thinking. Have... Have you seen your dad yet?"
The elf shook her dark head, and Elle's stomach dropped. So, she didn't know.
"I spoke with Aragorn, though."
"Oh." Elle looked up, "He told you then?"
Arwen nodded her assent, before leaning forward to take Elle's hand, "Do not be frightened, Elle. What you must be going through... I can't imagine. I just wanted you to know that no matter what others may think, you will always be my friend."
Elle almost wanted to ask for ulterior motives, that's how startled she was by the affectionate confession. It was almost too much to hope for, that her new friend might be accepting of her position in this world.
"You don't... You're not scared of me?"
Arwen shook her head with a small smile, "Of course not. I know your heart, Elle. You wear it on your sleeve. There is no evil there."
That, after everything she'd been told in the past two hours, comforted her more than anything. Warmth infused her, and Elle couldn't fight the prick of tears from stinging her eyes.
"Th-thank you," She said, blinking back the sudden moisture, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."
"I can guess," Arwen chuckled, "Besides, I know those three. I doubt they were very empathetic on an emotional level. Probably more interested in poking and prodding with sticks, am I right?"
Elle laughed, the burst of releasing all that pent up energy already making her feel better as she replied, "Yeah, pretty much. Aragorn wasn't too happy... Did he say anything to you?"
Elle didn't miss the light pink hue that tinted her friend's pale cheeks at the mention of the Ranger's name.
"He's upset that he was deceived, but he understands why. He did not have anything bad to say about you Elle, I think he truly wishes to give you a chance. I believe he's grown fond of you, and he trusts both my father and Gandalf's judgement."
Elle exhaled in relief, "Good, I've been so worried."
"Don't be," Arwen chided, "Really, it's not as bad as you think. Unlike you we have lived in this world always, we're not all that surprised when things like this happen. Not that this is the norm, but compared to how you must feel this is child's play to us."
"You believe I'm not of this world, then?" She ventured hopefully, recalling Aragorn's own disbelief and incredulous response.
"Elle, I believe that the Valar are all powerful. I believe that my father has never once led us wrong, and I believe that you are not a natural liar. I trust my inner judgement, and after he's calmed down Aragorn will come to listen to his as well." Arwen said, knowing exactly where Elle's worries had stemmed.
"I don't know, I just... Everything has happened so fast. I can't wrap my head around it all. Half the time I don't even feel like any of this is real..." She trailed off, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill, "It's just all so surreal."
"I can't possibly understand what it must be like. I would hate to leave behind Imladris, my father, my people... You must be devastated."
It wasn't what Elle had been expecting. The words took her aback, making her feel a lot worse than they should have. Really, she should be thinking those things. That's what a normal person would be feeling right now.
"I..." Elle didn't get to finish what she'd been about to say. Hell, she wasn't even sure what she was going to say to that, but they were interrupted by a sudden horn outside of the gates that very nearly gave her a heart attack.
"What the hell is that?!" Elle demanded of no one in particular as she jolted up from the window.
"It's started." Arwen murmured in answer, her gaze drawn to the front of the courtyard as the gates began to open.
"What? What's started?"
Elle didn't have to wait long to find out what she meant.
The horn had finally stopped blowing, only to admit a procession of bannermen surrounding a brutish looking man dressed in furs and leathers atop a russet stallion.
His hair was a sandy brown, waving to his shoulders with a neatly trimmed beard accenting a strong jawline. The broad shouldered man swept off his horse, boots thudding to the stone ground as grey-blue eyes wandered appreciatively over the entrance to Rivendell.
Elle watched as he shook the hand of an approaching elf, a smirk on his lips as he slid the round shield off his back and handed it to one of his attendants.
"Who is that?" Elle asked, curious now as to who the stranger was, "And why is he here?"
The man was obviously human, as were the soldiers he'd arrived with. Elle didn't have to think hard to figure out why they were here; the presence of the One Ring concerned everyone in Middle-Earth.
"That's the son of the Steward of Gondor, Boromir: Captain of the White Tower. They're here for the Council." Arwen replied airily, watching as the new arrivals were led off toward separate quarters and their horses to the stables.
Elle racked her brain, unable to remember this Boromir at all. It looked like her memory had well and truly abandoned her.
"How many people are coming to this shindig?" Elle queried, eyes wide as yet another horn blasted from outside, this one lighter, musical and far more ethereal than the first.
"Representatives from all reaches of Middle-Earth. Oh, they're here!" Arwen shot up from her seat, every footfall dance-like as she made her way down the open hall and to the wide sweeping staircase into the front courtyard.
Elle trailed behind, her hand grazing along the windowsills as she went. Her eyes were watchful as she took in the newcomers who rode in on dazzling white steeds, pale blonde hair shining like silver under the sunlight.
Arwen swept down to meet them, honing in on one particular elf that sat tall and regal in the centre of the elven procession.
He was stunningly beautiful, gazing up at the spires of Rivendell with pride as he dismounted in one graceful leap. Elle stopped at the top of the stairs, observing as Arwen greeted the one who was clearly their leader, his face lighting up with affection and familiarity as they exchanged words.
She tilted her head to the side, soaking in the hard, alabaster planes and angles of his face, sharp and distinctly masculine, yet with an almost feminine edge of unmistakeable beauty. He was broad and taller than his companions, with an obvious strength to his lean and lithe form. Pale, white-blonde hair hung in a perfectly straight line to his chest, braided back at the temples to reveal the points of his ears.
She hadn't noticed that her breathing had quickened considerably, her heart rate spiking as she stood back uncertainly. It was as if her wolf, who had been happily dozing since they'd arrived in Rivendell, had suddenly snapped to attention with this new addition.
And then they were walking towards her. Arwen, side by side with the gorgeous blonde elf and his companions, making a beeline straight for where she stood waiting at the stairs.
Fuck, what should she do? Say hello? Or nothing, just wait until they were introduced? She had no idea, and didn't have the luxury of time to think about it.
They were almost level now, and Elle had forgotten how to breathe. Her clothes felt too tight, too constricting, and incredibly hot. Tongue-tied, she stared dumbly as he approached her...
...and then walked directly past without even a glance in her direction.
Elle turned and stared stupidly at the back of his silver head, mouth gaping in shock at the pretty obvious brush-off she'd just received. Arwen had stopped beside her, but didn't seem all that disturbed by the elf's dismissive actions.
"What the fuck..." She mumbled unintelligibly, narrowing her eyes at the departing elf as he rounded the corner purposefully and disappeared from view.
"Is there something wrong, Elle?" Arwen asked, a serene smile on her lips.
"That guy, he just completely dissed us without even saying hello. Isn't that rude, even in this world?" She asked, her tone almost snapping in her annoyance.
"I- um, which one? Did you mean Legolas? He probably didn't see you, Elle. Don't take it to heart, it's my fault. I should have introduced you, but they were adamant to speak with my father as soon as possible." Arwen explained, hooking an arm through hers as she turned them back to the gates.
Rather than closing, they stayed open as yet another group lumbered in to the shuddering beat of a drum, this time on foot. Elle forgot about the insulting blonde elf for a moment, intrigued by the unusual men who'd just shown up. They were all clearly dwarves, the tallest no higher than her ribs at most, with massive bushy beards and wild, untamed hair.
Elle's eyes zeroed in on the one at the front, his face set stern and wary as he cautiously surveyed his surroundings. This one's braided beard was a dark red, with deep-set brown eyes and ruddy cheeks. The dwarf was stocky and garbed in black and maroon hide, an exquisitely crafted battle-axe at his side. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Gimli, son of Gloin and Lord of the Glittering Caves. He is here to represent the dwarves tomorrow." Arwen filled her in, smiling genially as an elf rushed forward to greet and house their guests.
Elle could hear the dwarf grunting and growling in a loud Scottish brogue from here, clearly distrustful of the elves intentions as they steered him and his posse off into Rivendell.
"I like him already." Elle grumbled quietly, feeling a whole lot of resentment toward a particular group of obnoxiously rude elves herself.
Well, one elf in particular, but who's counting?
Sometime after the sun had set, Elle found herself sitting beside Aragorn in a secluded part of the elven city. It was dark outside, the only light being a few lone torches hanging across the stone walls.
Elle was curled up at the far end of the wicker loveseat, Aragorn with a book in his hand and his feet propped up before her.
They'd just spent the last half hour talking, reconciling, and explaining everything. Aragorn was finally starting to come around, especially after hearing the sincerity in her words. The Ranger was beginning to understand that she might truly be an asset in the years to come.
Elle was feeling happier than she had in such a long time. She hadn't realised the strain her lie had been putting on her, but now that everyone knew what she really was and nobody was persecuting her for it, she'd finally been able to relax.
She thought back to her meeting with the hobbits. She'd been so nervous, and yet all they'd done is rush around her as usual with all the exuberance of a child, asking questions and demanding answers.
"Can you kill that elf if you wanted to?"
"Can you eat a person whole?"
"Can you really breathe fire and turn into a bat, too?"
She had laughed at the ridiculousness, and it had been fun. Instead of being frightened, the boys had reacted similarly to Gandalf and Elrond. Probably because they'd followed their lead, seeing that there was nothing to fear if those wise and powerful men were fine with it.
The Ranger had taken time to convince, on the other hand, and she appreciated that. She certainly would not have been all that accepting of a monster in their midst, and she wanted someone to be watchful of her to keep her in line. It was comforting, knowing that she wasn't the only one wary of what she could do.
So here she was, sitting back comfortably as Aragorn immersed himself in an old tome, just listening to the soft sounds of Rivendell. The columns around them cast grey shadows across the walls, the quiet almost haunting. There would be a feast tonight in honour of their guests, and she could just hear the preparations for it now somewhere far off and faint.
Elle twisted the fabric of her crimson silk gown between her fingers, having changed with Arwen's insistence some time ago into the more formal attire she'd lent her. The dress was cherry red, and rather than having long sleeves like the other two this one displayed a myriad of red spaghetti straps crisscrossing her shoulders and upper back in an elegant and tasteful display of bare skin. The hem reached the floor in a slinky wave, the bodice high over her chest and to her collar bones in a similar fashion to a halter neck. It was stunning and costly, with embroidered filigree at the high neckline and waist. Her chocolate brown hair was left simple, the natural curls cascading to her waist with just the front bangs twisted back and pinned to the side.
Elle rested her head back against a column, letting her eyes drift shut. She wasn't tired, but it felt nice to just release all that pent up stress for once. She was only drawn out of her doze when a sound caught both their attention, and she looked up to find the man from earlier stride into the large room. He was still dressed in fine dark leather, accents of red and grey trimming his tunic, with a sword at his side.
His footsteps echoed through the cavernous room as he walked to appraise the intricate mural of Isildur on the wall. Elle had already been through that with Aragorn, who'd earlier shown her his ancestor in a bid to understand her. A great man who was born to be good, tempted by the dark. Why could the opposite not happen, he had asked of himself and her.
They both stayed silent as the man turned toward the grand monumental display, awe and appreciation glittering in his dark eyes.
"The shards of Narsil..." He murmured in amazement, gingerly lifting the shattered handle of the blade and testing it's weight in his hands, "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand."
With measured movements, the man ran his fingers slowly up the jagged blade, and Elle was just about to tell him he probably shouldn't do that when he flinched and nicked his finger on the tip.
"Ah, it's still sharp."
With a glance up, he finally noticed he had an audience. Elle looked between the two men, their eyes clearly locked on each other.
"No more than a broken heirloom." The man finished, haphazardly tossing the blade back to it's stand only for it to fall to the marble flooring with a ringing clang.
The human looked back, indecision flitting across his face, before deciding against stooping down to pick it up and moving swiftly on his way. Elle was mildly shocked, as the dismissal was incredibly disrespectful of such an ancient artefact.
Aragorn sighed heavily, setting his book aside as he stood and crossed to the alter. With reverence he picked up the handle and placed it gently in it's rightful place, before stepping back with a solemn hand to his chest.
Elle followed his lead, standing a few paces behind him as she too appraised the perfectly sculpted statue, until she caught movement in the corner of her eye and noticed Arwen approaching from the shadows.
The she-elf sent her a small, secretive smile and Elle nodded in understanding. These two had been sharing looks since they first arrived, and Elle was only too happy to give them some privacy.
She parted with a little wave, Aragorn not even noticing she'd left as she walked off down the same way the human had.
It didn't take her long to catch up. He'd only walked ahead by about a minute or so, and soon enough Elle was walking side by side with him.
"Hi," She greeted with a smile, "I'm Elle."
He glanced down at her, at least a head taller than she, before replying, "Elle? What a strange name. I am Boromir. Are you here with your husband, for the Council?"
She blinked rapidly at the sexist comment, "Uh, husband? Hell no, I'm here because I came with the hobbits. Are you here with your husband?"
He didn't seem to get the joke, just sputtered a few times and turned a slight shade of red.
"No! Heavens, woman, I am Captain of the White Tower and son of the Steward of Gondor!"
"Fancy. Are Captains unaware that women can go places without having a husband tagging along?" Elle kept a straight face, watching the confusion on his face with glee. He clearly had no idea what to say to her, and she couldn't keep the teasing smile back for long.
The man quirked a brow, "You are jesting with me, yes?"
She broke into a grin, "Yes. So are you going to the feast, Boromir?"
He looked utterly bemused by her, especially with the sudden change in subject.
"Of course, it would be a great insult to not attend a feast in our honour. Do you have an escort, Lady Elle?"
"What, like a hooker? Why would I need a hooker?" She asked incredulously, brows furrowing.
The man burst out laughing, "An escort, my Lady! Someone to accompany you this evening."
Her cheeks coloured in embarrassment, "Oh, right. No, I don't have an... escort."
His grin broadened boyishly, "Wonderful, then I shall escort you myself." Boromir offered her one large arm and she took it politely, chuckling to herself at her mistake.
"Where do you hail from?" Boromir inquired conversationally as he led her through the empty halls and in the direction of boisterous music and rising, rumbling voices.
"Sydney... It's, well. It's far from here." She explained, anxious now.
Boromir's eyes darkened in recognition, "Ah yes, now I remember. My father has been informed of your presence for many years now, in preparation for your arrival. The wizard, Gandalf, he explained your... unusual situation this afternoon. It's all a bit farfetched, if you ask me, but my father has insisted I aid you in any way I can. Gondor will always welcome you with open arms, my Lady. An ally such as yourself would be a significant one."
Elle felt ruffled, flabbergasted and unsure of what to say. Her, an ally? She wasn't sure how she could be of any help to anyone, really. But she went with it, preferring open arms to pitchforks and flames.
"Oh, wow. Thank you... I'll, um, remember that." She offered weakly as a response.
Boromir didn't seem to notice anything amiss, just smiled that boyish smile and secured her arm more firmly through his.
"Are all women from Sid-erney so beautiful, Lady Elle?" He asked innocently, causing her to falter momentarily in surprise.
Nobody had ever called her beautiful before. Well, except maybe Angie.
"Uhh, I don't know?" She stammered, laughing a little too high pitched in her nervousness and not bothering to correct his mispronunciation.
He leant close to her just as they rounded through a set of large, decorated wooden doors and into the great hall, long tables laid out evenly and groaning under the weight of so much food and drink.
"Such a stunning gown is truly fitting for one as stunning as you, my Lady."
She stumbled on the hem of her dress, catching herself on Boromir's arm before she fell. He laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he led her into the room.
The great hall was massive, with high, vaulted ceilings and vine-like designs carved into the walls. It was open to the elements as so much of Rivendell was, the light cast in adorned sconces. The tables were the same delicate pale grey oak, with stools that looked like perfectly carved tree stumps, though they obviously were not.
Elle noticed immediately how each race had sectioned themselves off from each other; the Rivendell elves to one long table, the dwarves to another, and Boromir's men shared with the rude silver-haired elf's group of soldiers.
Her eyes were drawn to the elf in question, where he sat amidst a group of his men and a few adoring Imladris elleths. She could tell the women were flirting with these foreign men, though the silver-haired one mostly ignored the batting of their eyes as he discussed something heatedly with an elf beside him.
Elle couldn't help her gaze from roving appreciatively over his battle-hardened form, noting the embroidered leather vest that only drew attention to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, his long and lean legs encased in fitted forest green breeches that gave way at the knee to dark boots.
She sniffed and ignored that table purposefully, turning away to scan the room for the hobbits. They sat at the back, nearest to the dwarves who were similar in height but far more stocky in build.
Elle caught Merry waving her to join them, a broad smile lighting up his face.
"Thank you, Sir," Elle said to Boromir, remembering Arwen's teachings on correct etiquette as she returned Merry's wave, "For escorting me, but my friends are over there. I'm sure I'll see you again before the night is over."
He smiled back graciously, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand as he swept into a bow, "The pleasure was all mine, Lady Elle. Enjoy your evening, and mayhap save me a dance."
He left with a charming wink, and Elle couldn't help but flush prettily as she stalked toward the hobbits' table, ignorant of the stares she was attracting in her dress.
Arwen had given it to her purely because it was not her own personal style, but had been a gift from the city of Minas Tirith some time past for their hospitality. Red was not a colour often worn by the elves, their favouring pastels and softer tones, so Arwen had never found use for it. A human woman, however, was more than accustomed to such styles in the fashionable cities of Middle-Earth, and Arwen had been right in assuming Elle would like it.
"Elle! You look smashin'!" Pippin cried out drunkenly, stumbling over his words as he stood on his stool and threw an arm over her shoulder, "This 'ere is our Lady Elle. Th'most beautiful Lady in all the land, I'd say!"
Elle grinned weakly at the surrounding dwarves at their table, as well as an amused Gandalf, as she shrugged out from beneath the drunk hobbit's arm, "Pleased to meet you all."
"Ah!" The one with the auburn hair who'd been nothing but rowdy and loud since he'd arrived at the gates addressed her, "Aye, I've heard of ye Lass. Ye the wee she-wolf, if I'm no' mistaken?"
Elle nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear as she took a seat between Merry and Sam, "That's me. And you are?"
"Gimli, son of Gloin!" He replied in a gruff voice, grinning as he tipped back his tankard and ale spilt down his beard.
"Well I'm Elle, daughter of none." She answered sweetly, to a chorus of raucous laughter from the dwarves.
"To Elle, daughter of none, the most beautiful Lady in all the Land!" They cheered as they clapped their mugs together and sloshed the contents about.
Elle shook her head with a laugh as she ladled a wooden plate full of food. The fast-paced yet serene music in the hall echoed with the sounds of intoxicated laughter and merriment, very much how she'd imagined an elven soirée would go if their guests had been dwarves and men.
It was like inviting a bunch of caterwauling street urchins to a classic party of gentry, harps and all.
Her feet tapped against the marble flooring, the laced slippers Feriel had dug up for her rapping a nice rhythm to the beat. It had taken time to find shoes that fit her, as her feet were smaller than most of the tall and willowy elves.
"How are you, Frodo?" She asked around a mouthful of crusty bread, noting the small hobbit's faraway stare. He seemed lost in space, completely zoned out and in another world.
The thought almost made her laugh, she really was in another world.
Frodo blinked and focused his eyes on the girl before him, "I-I'm fine. Just a little tired. I might retire early, I think."
Elle felt pity for the poor boy with dark rings under his eyes, "Maybe you should. You've got to give yourself some more time to heal, Frodo. Don't push yourself."
He nodded absently as he stood from the table, Sam stumbling up beside her as he did.
"Mr Frodo, are you okay?"
Frodo nodded with a smile, "Yes Sam, I'm fine. Just a little tired, I'm going to go up to bed."
"Of course, you need your rest. Do you need anything of me?" Sam asked kindly.
"No, no, it's okay. Just going to bed."
Frodo wandered off between the tables, looking sleepy and disorientated as he left. Sam's golden-brown brows furrowed in worry as he watched his best friend go.
"It's alright, Sam. He just needs time to recover." Elle assured the hobbit, rubbing a hand comfortingly on his back as Sam took a seat.
"I might just go and make sure our boy is alright," Gandalf spoke for the first time since she'd sat down, "Goodnight, my friends. Enjoy yourselves."
The wizard stood and followed in the wake of the hobbit, a twinkle in his eyes that Elle had grown all too used to.
Lord Elrond stood after they'd finished their meal and more drinks were passed around, welcoming all to his home and asking to make the most of their night for tomorrow would bring the unknown. Even the rambunctious dwarves quieted down in respect for his speech, until he'd finished and their cheers and thudding boots became deafening.
It was at this point that Pippin and Merry decided that the music was perfect for dancing, before snatching up both her hands and hauling her out into the space before the small orchestral band. Elle's cheeks fired up as all eyes were on them, but she soon forgot about it as the boys began singing some nonsense song uproariously, spinning her between them as they danced and jigged to the merry beat.
She was breathless with laughter. Her skirts bunched in her hands as she attempted to replicate their quick footwork that reminded her so much of an Irish jig. A few more men and dwarves joined in, and a couple of elves partnered up to sweep across the floor elegantly. Elle lost count of their faces as she was handed tankard after tankard, swigging down the sweet and heady spiced mead.
At one point she did end up having that dance with Boromir, who was as gentlemanly as ever as they waltzed to a slower song, making her laugh till her sides hurt with his jokes.
She was spinning a very drunk Gimli in circles some hours later, laughing with tears in her eyes with the rest of the unruly dwarven guests and with Gimli insisting in slurred tones that she, "must come and visit the Glittering Caves, as ye would be welcomed like a Princess by my people!", when she tripped over a dwarven pair of steel-capped boots and landed directly into the lap of one very surprised and very unamused silver-haired elf.
"Oh, my God. I am so sorry!" She gushed, mortified, as her cheeks flamed crimson to match her gown.
She was encased between two very strong and solid arms, impenetrable as steel, that held her up from barrelling him over completely. One slashing brow was raised sardonically, a contemptuous smirk on his thin lips that set off the distinguishing angles of his cheekbones and jawline perfectly.
"No, please, I believe you left half of my drink untouched. Why not run into that, too?"
She halted the apologies that were flying from her parted lips, astonished by his cutting remark and rejecting the twang in her belly at the smooth sound of his deep and lyrical voice. Had he just...?
"Excuse me?" She retorted, pushing against his chest and ignoring how firm and defined it was as she extracted herself from his lap, "No need to be rude, it was just an accident, buster."
For a moment she didn't think the arrogant elf would let her up, but after a split second of shoving she was released from the cage of his arms and standing before him, brushing down the fabric of her dress in an attempt to compose herself.
Her heart rate had spiked significantly again, much to her annoyance.
The elf just laughed, the sound so perfect and musical it made her want to wring his neck. What was it about this elf that had her feeling so disarmed and useless? She straightened herself to her full height, which wasn't all that much, as he stood to face her.
The elf was almost a foot taller than her, and she had to arc her neck to reach his pale blue eyes. She was sure she looked a mess, with her dark hair ruffled and her cheeks flushed from wine and dancing. He didn't have a single silver strand of hair out of place.
When had it become so hot in here? She felt dreadfully warm, her dress uncomfortable against her heated, prickling skin as his light blue eyes trailed over her.
Her breath caught as he bent to her ear, his words like mint leaves brushing over her skin as he whispered, "You know... if you wanted to sit in my lap, all you had to do was ask meril."
It took her a few minutes to register what the elf had said, his nearness all too distracting as she was engulfed by his warmth and spicy scent. By the time she caught on, the elf had passed her by and was already walking out with a few of his attendants in tow.
Elle spluttered, aghast and infuriated. How dare he?!
Why that stupid, arrogant, egotistical, uppity little pixie-boy!
She was fuming visibly, her hands clenched at her sides as she took a few deep breaths and willed her primal side to calm down. This was the closest she'd been to flipping out since arriving in Rivendell, and she certainly wasn't used to having to rein in her wolf here.
Elle groaned, raising her hand to her head as she let the humiliation wash over her. She'd never felt like such a fool in all her life, and that elf had just teased and poked fun at her in front of everyone. Not to mention, implied that she'd wanted to end up in his lap.
Of all the megalomaniacal responses. The fucking gall!
She hadn't even had time to come back with some witty remark, either. Not that her brain had been working all that well, his proximity had completely thrown her off. And she just wasn't expecting an elf to be so... so... well, impolite!
She'd wanted the stupid elf to notice her, and now she'd gotten her wish. It just so happened that by doing so she'd ended up making a complete and utter ass of herself, and was only mildly appeased by the fact that come tomorrow after the meeting she'd probably never have to deal with the likes of him ever again.
With that somewhat comforting (but mostly mortifying) thought in mind, Elle bid her good nights to the rest of the company and trundled dejectedly back to her room, all thoughts of fun and dancing ruined as she settled in to a night of abject embarrassment and self-loathing.
There it is!
Hopefully this chapter lived up to your expectations, so please do tell me if you enjoyed it and whatnot. The Reviews are honestly the only thing that pushes me to do this, especially right now with all this stress and tragedies going on. Again, I just can't thank you guys enough for the phenomenal support and love I've received. Truly blessed!
I did struggle a fair bit with the last scene and how I wanted it to play out, it was so important to time their meeting just right. And honestly, I've never pictured Legolas as a love at first sight kinda guy. I mean, he's damn old and he's not taken up a lady friend yet. So here is my interpretation! Just a bit of fun to see how it might turn out if he wasn't all that head over heels to begin with as some stories are prone to have (Also a bit of sassiness inherited through his altogether too-sexy father).
As well as, I just ADORE Boromir. Since his family is so keen to possess the Ring, I figured they'd be pretty up for having her on their side too as a secret weapon. Same goes for Gimli, though he's not obvious about it nor is he pushy. She'd just be an asset, hence their acceptance. And since these people are called to Council, I assumed their respective families would have also been informed for some time (and in doing so, got used to the idea) of something as important as the possession of one of Mordor's wolves in their midst. Not everyone knows obviously, just a need to know basis for the "important" folks.
Yeah so, tons of information crammed in especially during her meeting. I hope it wasn't too much for you guys, lemme know! And just out of curiosity, do you guys prefer long or short chapters? I'm a long chapter girl myself, but it's nice to know if I should cut it down a tad.
Anyhow enough rambling, thank you again so much everyone. Remember to Favourite/Follow/Review if you enjoyed it! All my love,
- T
xo