A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist
Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Morlyg, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).
Chapter 9- It's All in the Blood
After What I'd read about Firefrost, I head to the library to see if I can find more information. I scour through scrolls, books, and the like but find nothing. I purposefully steer clear of the shelf where the prophecy is located. I know I'm being a little childish- trying to ignore what is says won't make it less likely to happen, but I don't care. I never want to hear or see those words again.
An hour passes and after searching every shelf I've found nothing. I gather my things but before I can leave a dark haired elf blocks my path to the exit. I look up at him and he stares back, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Hello, Lindir," I say.
He nods in reply and says, "Lord Elrond has summoned you."
After the incident with the wargs, this doesn't surprise me. The elves of Imladris have begun to act strangely around me, whispering as I passed them and giving me suspicious glances. Many had assumed that I'd let the wargs in and some had even accused me of being a spy because of my Haradrim bloodline. I had ignored their glances and gossip but being a ruler, Lord Elrond had not and dutifully could not.
I follow Lindir, silently pondering whether I'll be able to join the guard if Lord Elrond distrusts me or thinks I'm lying about what happened with the wargs. What if I'm exiled? Where would I go?
I push those thoughts away; if I'm nervous when I appear before him it could lead to him thinking I'm being dihonest. And since I'm not, I have no reason to be nervous.
I've spoken with Lord Elrond twice before and I was very young, still considered a child. Our conversations had been very short and consisted only of small talk and greetings.
My Father, being one of his former guards, had known him well and said he was a kind ruler. I hoped, for my sake, that was true.
When we reach the doors of the throne room I feel unprepared. My clothes are clean but I'm not wearing a dress. I stifle a laugh, remembering what my Mother, who also disliked dresses, used to say. "The day I dress for another person, is the day I go to meet my creator."
The thought of my Mother calms me and I feel my nerves ebb away a little.
When the doors open, I follow Lindir inside. Lord Elrond is seated on his throne and I'm taken aback by Belegor standing beside him. Is this about the wargs or joining the guard?
I stop when Lindir does and watch as he bows and then moves to stand next to Belegor.
"I hear you were chased by wargs recently," Lord Elrond says. His eyes are stern and observational, taking everything in- the kind of eyes nothing can hide from.
"Yes, my Lord," I answer. I look him straight in the eye. To look away would be a sign of dishonesty.
"Why were they in Imladris?" he asks.
"I didn't let them in, if that's what you're wondering."
His eyebrows raise a little. "My guards say they never saw them enter our borders. How do you suppose they got in?"
I look down at my feet and blink hard. He doesn't believe me…and I doubt he'll believe the truth. I lie would probably sound less ridiculous.
"Answer the question," he demands.
I nod in defeat and look back up at him. "I didn't let them in but I will tell you everything I did that night."
I glance at Belegor. The thought of him finding out about my nightmares is humiliating but I'd rather suffer embarrassment than be banished from my home. I explain both of nightmares, my walk, the fog, everything. I don't mention the prophecy though. That's my information and mine only. After my nightmares it didn't seem wise to tell anyone. The less others knew, the better.
When I finish, Lord Elrond is calm but his eyes are swimming with turmoil and realization as if he's just figured something out.
"Is this the first time you've seen Sauron in your dreams?"
"Yes," I reply, surprised he isn't discrediting them.
He remains still and quiet for a long while, deep in thought.
"And you aren't allied with the Haradrim?" he asks.
"No," I answer. "I am loyal only to you, your household, and Imladris."
I may be coursing with the blood of the Haradrim but I would never be loyal to them. They were hard and as unforgiving as the desert land they dwelled in. After witnessing their harsh cruelty, my mother had left them and had only returned to show me my heritage. Luckily, she had been such a renowned warrior that they'd allowed her to return. Normally, they would have killed her. It caught up to her eventually but I know she never regretted allowing me a glimpse at our culture, our way of life.
Most have understood why she left but many have had issues understanding why she returned, taking me with her. Contrary to many beliefs, not all of us were so coarse or barbaric. Poverty had simply caused certain kindnesses to be forgotten. There was fighting between most of the tribes on everything from food to land but within each clan there was also community. We stood up for one another and when we fought, we fought together. I remember thinking of it as a wolf pack.
Imladris was different. Everything was peaceful and plentiful. There was no fighting between our race. Everyone got along with one another and only fought evil.
Lord Elrond looks at me keenly and says, "We will find where your loyalties lie soon enough."
My eyes widen. I don't have to go through some kind of test, do I?
"How do you mean?" I ask, trying to hide the nerves that are making their way back into my mind.
"I only take those loyal to Imladris to become guards," he replies.
I look at him in disbelief. He believes me? I'm not banished?
"May I speak freely?" I ask.
He nods and I say, "with all due respect, how do you believe me? I can barely believe it myself, even after its already happened."
"I know more about you than you may think," he says. "And when you've lived as long as I, it becomes easier to decipher a lie from the truth. As for becoming a guard, Belegor speaks highly of you and says you show promise."
I glance over at Belegor and he smiles sheepishly. His kindness is going to give me whiplash.
"He has explained that your archery needs improvement," Lord Elrond continues. "but if your training is successfully completed you may return and speak your oath."
"It would be an honor," I say, beaming proudly. I can't believe he's being so generous and trusting. I find it hard to believe that he knows anything about me though. How could he?
"One more thing," he says. "That piece of paper you've been avoiding in the library, its words will come to pass sooner than you think."
My mouth drops in shock. "How did you-"
"I suggest you train hard," he says sternly. "That is all."
I bow and make my way out of the room. How did he know? Did Gandalf say something? Or did he just happen to read the paper?
As I'm leaving to head to the practice field, I spot someone familiar.
"Hello, Rhovan."
"Narloth," he replies, grinning. "What brings you here?"
"Long story, I'll explain later," I say. "How about yourself?"
"I came to speak with Lord Elrond about becoming a guard."
"That's partly why I'm here," I admit. "I bet they'd love to have you!"
"I hope so," he replies.
After I've wished him luck and said goodbye I practice my archery.
"I think you're getting the hang of it," Belegor says, from behind me.
"Finally," I reply. "Thanks for getting creative with me…and for putting in a kind word for me back there."
"No problem," he says.
"When does training start?" I ask.
"Right now," he replies.
I laugh a little and he draws his sword. I set my bow and quiver against a nearby tree and unsheathe Firefrost.
The sun glints off the metal in a blinding flash of light and in that moment the blade does look magical. What powers do you possess I wonder?
We practice for hours, each minute more difficult and tiresome than the last. My arms are screaming but I ignore the burn in my muscles and continue.
When I think I can go no longer another elf joins Blegor and they're both taking swings at me. It's hardly fair, but it is realistic. Orcs wouldn't play fair.
Neither did the Haradrim I remember. One of the female elders had told me that our tribe didn't practice fairness because the world wasn't fair.
"If you expect the world to be fair with you because you are fair, you're fooling yourself. That's like expecting the lion not to eat you because you wouldn't eat him," she'd said.
Those words had woken me up and made me face reality in times when things weren't going my way and were falling apart, that I had to fight harder. Which is what I do now.
Two against one? I'd had worse. In Harad, I'd fought against four, sometimes five, in hand to hand combat. I can do this I tell myself. I'm not as strong but I'm fast and smart.
I begin concentrating solely on blocking. I need time to think of a game plan and to figure out the fighting style of the elf that just joined.
After a few swings I notice that the newest elf is incredibly fast and strong but takes a step forwards each time he's about to make a move, stepping first and then swinging. I use this knowledge to my advantage and can block each strike he brings against me. I push myself forward, charging him and like I hoped, he begins backing away. I get closer and closer to him, causing my arms to shake when I try to hold off his swings.
When I'm close enough, I reach my foot out, causing him to trip and fall backwards.
I sense Belegor behind me and spin around to block his oncoming blow. He's very close to me but has left himself vulnerable. I spin again and elbow him in the ribs. He grunts, doubling over and I drive my foot upwards, kicking him and block the assault of the other elf, who is now back on his feet.
We continue fighting for what seems like an eternity, until I'm dripping sweat and my chest is heaving for air. I'm tiring physically and even mentally from trying to keep ahead of them.
Relentlessly, they continue and something begins to click in my mind; this is a test and they'll continue until I drop. It's to see how much I can take, how long I can hold on.
'You will be pushed to the limit and sometimes past it.' Belegor's words ring in my ears. He'd warned me this would happen.
About the time I'm realizing this Belgor starts taunting me.
"You want a break?" he asks.
"Yes," I admit.
"Guess what," he says. "No breaks. I don't give breaks." There is a ruthlessness in his eyes as he continues his attacks.
"You asked if I wanted one, not if I needed one," I reply. I feel a devilish smile find its way to my face, one that I haven't worn since being in the Haradwaith.
I laugh as Belegor and the other elf's eyebrows raise in surprise. Or is it intimidation?
More hours pass and my whole body feels numb. I can't imagine how sore I'll be tomorrow.
"Come on, Narloth, everyone has a breaking point. Give up already," Belegor says.
I shake my head stubbornly and continue to fend off their advances. Giving up now would be so easy but I've worked so hard and I know that if orcs are in my future they won't stop their onslaught on my account. It's difficult and unfair but that is life, that is reality. I don't expect them to stop…but they shouldn't expect me to either.
"You first!" I yell, gritting my teeth.
When the sun starts to set we're still at it. I have no idea how I've managed to continue for so long. Perhaps my pride will not allow me to falter or quit.
I will prove myself and I will become a guard, even if it means we continue for days I think resolutely.
"That's enough," Belegor says, glancing at the horizon.
I drop to the ground, almost not on my own accord. My body is shaking from exhaustion and as I glance at my attackers I notice they're breathing hard.
All of us sit down, trying to gather our breath. I smile a little, glad I'm not the only one tired from the skirmish.
I glance at the elf that joined us and he explains that he is a fellow guard and that he's impressed by my skill and determination. I compliment him on his own skills. He had been so strong and fast. After he catches his breath he says his farewells and leaves. I forgot to ask him his name.
"Is this how training normally starts?" I ask.
"No, but you've been placed by Lord Elrond in a special division to be trained for war."
"War?" I sputter.
Belegor nods. "He never said why but told me to make sure you got the best training. Glorfindel will mentor you tomorrow in archery."
I remain silent, trying to slow my breathing and not concentrate on the fact that Lord Elrond wants me trained for battle. He knows about the prophecy and I know he can occasionally see the future. Has he seen war in mine? And why?
"I hope you realize that your training isn't going to get easier," he says, stirring me from my thoughts. "The type of training you will receive will prepare you to be far more skilled than a normal guard. It's a privilege and very few women have been chosen."
"I hope I can handle it," I admit. After today I was dancing with the thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to make it through everything they threw at me.
"After what I witnessed today, I think you can," he says. "You're going to have to bring that same determination with you everyday if you want to get through it though."
He hesitates a moment and then says, "And there will most likely be other things for you to deal with as well."
"Like what?"
"Your comrades may be wary and unkind towards you for a while," he says.
"Why?" I ask.
He looks at me like it should be obvious and then it begins to dawn on me.
"You have the blood of the Haradrim coursing through your veins and many are still under the impression that you somehow led the wargs in. I hope you understand how suspicious it sounds."
I stare at him incredulously. My race, my heritage is all anyone seems to see lately.
Belegor sighs, rubbing his head. "They trust Lord Elrond's judgment," he explains. "But many don't believe that the wargs managed to cross the border with no one noticing without someone aiding them. The fact that you were able to escape them unharmed, despite the fact that you were on foot is adding to their suspicion and now you want to join the guard. It just seems like the actions of a spy, like someone who wants to get on the inside."
"Oh," I murmur, understanding better now. I wish I knew how they'd gotten in. I'd had no nightmares since but there was a distant feeling of darkness at the edge of my mind, as if something were drawing near, getting closer. Better for Imladris to believe I'd let the wargs in instead of Sauron. I can't imagine the kind of panic that would cause.
"What did you tell Lord Elrond about me?"
He grins a little. "I told him that you were small but fierce and swift."
I laugh under my breath a little. I was certainly small but I didn't feel fierce and swift.
"Were you trained for war?" I ask, curious to know he'd went through what I was.
He nods and turns to me seriously. "You're doing well. I think you'll be sent out on duty soon."
"How soon," I question, hoping that I'll be ready.
"The duration of your training depends entirely upon you," he replies.
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"What did they say?" I ask Rhovan excitedly.
"I start training tomorrow," he says, smirking proudly.
"I am glad to hear it," I say, chuckling at his smirk. I have a feeling he won't be wearing it for long on the practice field but I'm overjoyed that we'll get to be in training together, even if it's in different divisions.
"Will you be there?" he asks.
"Yes, I get to train with Glorfindel tomorrow…that is if I'm able to walk. After practicing today I'm not sure I'll be able to move at all."
"Why are they being so hard on you?" he asks.
"Lord Elrond requested that I be trained for war," I explain.
He looks up at me in shock. "Why? Is that what you want?"
"Certainly not! That's the last thing I want to take part in. As to the why, I've been asking myself the same question."
He's silent for a moment and then he crosses his arms across his chest and dons his smirk again.
"Think I'll get to beat you on the field in front of everyone?" He asks, teasing me.
I giggle. Nothing keeps Rhovan serious for long. He has a knack for making people laugh and smile. I suspect that's partly why Erebwen likes him so much.
"Only if I let you win," I say, wearing a smirk of my own.
"I suppose it would be unwise to cross the elleth who escaped the wargs," he says, with mock trepidation.
"Mmm," I say.
Rhovan looks at me seriously with that brotherly look he gets when I'm troubled.
"Scary?" he says.
"You have no idea," I reply, shaking my head with a shudder. "I can't believe I'm alive."
"That's how most of Imladris feels too," he says. "How are you taking their whispers?"
"It's annoying," I admit. "My neighbors keep glaring at me and gossiping as if I can't hear them."
"Any one who knows you knows you'd never betray Imladris," he says adamantly.
"But they don't know me," I say with a little laugh. "Besides, I've never seen them so riled up before. It's actually kind of funny. They cluck about like a bunch of hens."
Rhovan shakes his head, grinning. "You're a disturber of the peace now," he says, smirking.
"Always have been, always will be."
"How Haradrim of you," he says.
"Yes, let's continue to blame all my flaws on my heritage," I say, chuckling.
"Flaws? Why, I didn't know you had any," he retorts sarcastically.
"Let's not go there," I say. "Have you heard from Erebwen?"
"No," he says, turning sullen and downcast.
"Give it some time. She needs to sort things out."
"I know," he says.
Happy Friday everyone. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please don't forget to review!