Chapter 8: The Plans
"Absolutely not!"
Elrond was emphatic about the 'plan' that Elrohir and Aragorn were preparing for Jeren. "She has been through enough at present. You cannot do this to her. I will not be a party to this thing."
Aragorn and a contingent of rangers from the stronghold had come to Imladris for the rites in honor of Anardil's death. Today he would be buried in Rivendell's cemetery, where Dunedain, who had no other family or were otherwise significant to Elrond were buried. Elrond had had Jennah's remains moved here several years ago. The family cabin, where Jeren's mother had been buried, held nothing but ill memories for the girl. Elrond and the twins had known Jennah, and they could not in good conscience leave her body there, unattended and alone. Now Anardil would join his wife in Imladris.
"But Father," Elrohir said, "we are doing nothing to her. If anything, we will give her what she wants most—to experience what being a ranger truly means. You know that she is hard headed to a fault, and it is going to get her in much trouble at some point. She's been lucky so far. Who's to say when her luck will run out? She has lessons to learn that we can teach her, but that to merely tell her of will do no good. She must learn on her own, if the message is to hold any meaning to her. And if all goes to plan, she will give up the idea of joining the rangers of her own accord."
"But now, Elrohir?" Elrond wanted to know. "She's just lost her father. It has been a tremendous blow to her. She's not at her best at present, and to take advantage of that is not honorable. Again, I cannot be a party to this plan."
"Perhaps the timing might have been better, but if not now, when? She's wanted this for years, Father. You know it is true."
Elrond paced the room, going to the window and gazing out over the valley, but not really seeing it at all. Turning back to his sons he said, "Do not come to me when she aces your tests and challenges, and you have no recourse than to welcome her as a ranger. I do not share the opinion that she will give up on the idea, as you say. This plan of yours will fail—and it is the two of you who will be taught a lesson."
"It will not come to that," Aragorn said. "She will go only with the understanding that this is an invitation to visit and get to know her kin. There is no chance she will become a ranger, and I will tell her exactly that."
"Then why would she agree to go at all?" Elrond asked. "I know she is willful, but she is not stupid!"
"She is much like Anardil—perhaps even more stubborn than he. She may believe that being among the rangers might give her the edge she needs to be accepted. We know that it is not the case, but to Jeren, it is still possible, if only she works hard enough. Yet if she refuses my invitation, then it will be up to you and Glorfindel to see to it that she is educated in following orders, and not just doing as she will. She is putting her life at risk to achieve her goals, and I cannot be a party to that." Aragorn's gaze challenged his foster father to refute his words.
"I believed her to be educated in this," Elrond said, returning Aragorn's stare. "Glorfindel never had any difficulty with getting her to do as ordered. Perhaps it is just men that she has problems understanding."
Aragorn's temper threatened to flair, but in deference to Elrond, he held it in check. His jaw worked as he silently clenched his teeth. Before Aragorn could speak, Elrond added, "I do not want her doing battle with Orcs any more than the two of you do. What prompts this—this—plan?"
"She joined in one of our battles—with us unaware of it—a few days ago," Aragorn said. "This was sheer lunacy. It could have gone very ill for her—as it did for all but one of the rangers involved in that debacle. I believe it to be an attempt on her part to exhibit for us—for me—that she is fully capable of handling herself in battle. Yet all it shows me is that she is a rebel and will do as she will, no matter the consequences."
"And just this one show of fortitude has you both up in arms?" Elrond asked. "There has to be more to it. What else has she done that has you so alarmed—that convinces you that she does not know how to follow orders?"
Elrohir had hoped his father would accept what they'd told him thus far. He truly did not want to tell Elrond that he'd been taken by Orcs, much less that Jeren had come after him—and freed him—alone. Yet that was exactly what he was going to have to do.
As soon as the story was out, Elrond exploded. "And how did you manage to get yourself taken by Orcs, Elrohir? I am finding this tale of yours—and this plan—to be rife with deception. There must be more to the original story than you are letting on."
Aragorn took over the tale. "A mistake was made by a first year ranger which committed them to battling a forty-plus force of Orcs—the ranger strength was but twelve."
Elrond closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from shouting again. Before he had a chance to say anything, Aragorn explained the rest of the battle, including Jeren's part in it. "As soon as the remainder of the Orc force—a dozen strong—went south, taking Elrohir with them, Jeren emerged and took Anardil, Rhyse and Elladan to the place she'd been camping while watching the rangers for days. As if joining in the battle wasn't enough, she defied not only Anardil, but Elladan as well, and went after Elrohir alone to free him. Luckily, the twelve Orcs had split up, leaving her only five to deal with."
"Well," Elrond said, when he was calm enough to speak without raising his voice, "I can see what has you so troubled. I will speak to her. You do not have to resort to your 'plan'.
"Do you truly believe that merely speaking to her will make a difference, Father?" Aragorn asked. "I spoke to her several days before this mishap and you see what it got me—nothing but trouble. She came to the stronghold seeking to ask me if she could join with the rangers. I assume you knew that she had set out to do this?"
At Elrond's abrupt nod, Aragorn continued, "I told her that it was impossible. That it could not be. She argued and when I would not be moved she left—alone. Elrohir went after her to no gain. Then she turned up at the battle site."
Now Aragorn paced the room. "If she were a man, I would gladly welcome her as a ranger. From what Elrohir says about her shooting, I am a fool to not want her in our ranks as she is. However, I am only one man in this concern, and even were I to wish her to join us, it is impossible. The men would not stand for it. They would forever consider her a woman, someone to be protected at all costs. And that cost could be valuable lives in a battle. Perhaps even her own, if she keeps up with this notion she has of becoming a ranger."
Elrond's shoulders slumped just the slightest bit, but to his sons, he seemed smaller of a sudden. That he cared for this girl they discussed was a huge understatement, and it was becoming so much clearer in their eyes than it had been before.
"You will have to let her go sooner or later," Elrohir said quietly. "She will not stand to be held by you or anyone. I would rather that you watched over her than us, but honestly, I do not think she will permit anyone to watch over her at all. And that may be her downfall, finally." He reached out and touched Elrond's sleeve briefly, then let his hand fall. "She is going to get herself hurt again—or worse—if something is not done to rein her in."
"Given everything you've told me," Elrond acknowledged, "you are right about that. But to trick her—I cannot do it. Do not ask it of me."
"All will be told," Aragorn said. "I have no intention of using any trickery."
"Yet you understand her and how she will react. You must see that you are setting a trap for her, just as one would set a snare for a rabbit. You know she will seize your enticement."
"Yes, knowing Jeren as I have come to, I know she will demand more than a mere visit. She will want to participate. Yet the only one who may stoop to deceit to gain her objectives may be Jeren, herself."
Elrond heaved a deep sigh. "Very well. 'Tis not with my blessing. You both know I want her here."
"Even were she to stay here, Father," Elrohir said, "what would she do? What work would you give her? She'll not be content to be idle. Would you have her join with Glorfindel and Imladris' force?"
"Of course I would not," Elrond said as if he were speaking to someone dense. He paused, and then in a much softer voice, said, "T'was a mistake, I suppose, to allow her training at all; yet we could not have kept her defenseless after the attack she endured. I let it go on for far too long. I'd hoped I could dissuade her over time, but her growing talent with weapons just fed her need to do battle. I had not the heart to take it from her at that point."
"What is it about this girl that makes you go soft, Father?" Elrohir brashly asked. "You have never been this easy on any of your children. 'Your will or no will' was what we often said behind your back! We still do, if you want the truth of it."
The look the Elf lord gave to his son could have curdled milk. Elrohir had the grace—or abashment—to look away. As his anger faded, Elrond said tiredly, "I am not her parent, though at times I wish it were so. I obviously have not the experience I need to foster this very young and very Human girl." He stepped to the window again, and said, "You are Jeren's Chieftain, Estel. I cannot stand between you. Do what you will. I want no part of it."
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The rites for Anardil were in the late afternoon, two days after his death. His coffin was a plain, yet beautiful, wooden box—not austere, merely unadorned. There was a small crowd present—Elves and Dunedain rangers—and Jeren. Her face was an expressionless mask.
Elrond himself conducted the rite, along with assists from Aragorn. Rhyse was there, as were Joem, Brid and five other rangers whom Jeren did not know. All were resplendent in their best ranger attire, complete with gray cloaks and the distinguishing star pins they wore on their breasts. Jeren thought they looked splendid.
At the end of the rite, Aragorn approached Jeren. He gave to her Anardil's gray dress cloak on which he'd pinned Anardil's star broach. She closed her eyes, willing no tears to fall. She'd made it this far without them, and was determined to keep them away.
As spades of rich, dark earth were shoveled onto Anardil's coffin, Jeren's eyes remained dry. She was glad her mother was also interred in Rivendell's cemetery. She'd often visited her mother's gravesite here, which was something she never dreamed she'd be able to do again as long as Jennah lay in the yard of their cabin. Now Jeren would visit them both—
Everything was finished in very short order and the mourners filed away—all except Jeren. She could not bear to leave her father there. It made his death too final. She felt completely alone in this world.
After awhile, she felt hands upon her shoulders, and looking up expecting it to be Elrond, was startled to see it was Rhyse. He suddenly seemed to think he'd made some mistake; he moved his hands away as if she stung him. But he did not leave. He stood there with her. Finally, he looked at her and to her shock, there were tears in his eyes, although he wasn't weeping.
"He was my sergeant for more than a year," he said in explanation. "He was a good man. He taught me much. I will miss him greatly."
She nodded her agreement, then turned and they strode together on the long walk back to the house.
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Jeren surprised them all when she turned down Aragorn's offer. Everyone was gathered in the library that night after evening meal, including the rangers. Estel tendered his invitation, and Jeren politely declined. It was apparent to all that she was despondent over the loss of Anardil.
Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. He'd not wanted her hurt by what he saw as the deception of at least two of his sons. She was taking time to mourn her father, and that could only be a good thing. Were his sons successful in luring her to the stronghold under what he considered false pretenses, she needed to be in top form. Time was definitely on her side in this.
Elrond had noticed the distinct absence of Elladan. He'd been at the rite that afternoon, but had all but vanished soon afterward. He'd not been at evening meal, nor was he here with them in the library. Estel and the other rangers would be leaving sometime tomorrow, and it was unlike this son to not enjoy the company of his Human brother. Elrond reminded himself to investigate this newest development with Elladan. For whatever reason, things were amiss within his family, and he wanted to know why.
Jeren finally pleaded exhaustion and left the group in the library. But she did not go upstairs to her room. She went to the stables to visit Two. The horse nickered softly as Jeren entered the stall, and politely accepted the apple that Jeren had brought with her. Jeren took the bridle and reins from the nail where they were always kept and slid the bit between Two's teeth as soon as the mare finished eating the fruit. Jeren didn't bother with the saddle this time; bareback made the ride even more freeing.
Riding was always a welcome respite whenever Jeren was bothered by something. And, except for her mother's death years ago, she'd not been bothered by anything as much as she was by Anardil's death. Oh yes, the Orc attack had been horrendous. But Jeren had been broken and ill for quite some time afterward—not in any condition to ride, so she couldn't use this remedy while in the throes of her deepest anguish. By the time she began riding, that inner pain was bearable, thanks to Elrond's healing power. But now, with Anardil's dying breaths still echoing in her head, Jeren needed to be away on Two.
The moon was waxing toward full, so Jeren could see as well as she needed to. She headed for the pond where she'd sat with Elrond two days ago. It wasn't far, so she had Two up to a full gallop the entire trip. Jeren felt the wind whistling past her ears, and her braid flew behind her.
As Jeren got closer to the pond, she realized she wasn't the only person who sought solace here tonight. Since she'd left Elrohir with the others in Elrond's study, this must be Elladan, sitting on the bank, skipping stones across the pond's glittering surface.
She slid off Two, leaving the horse to graze. Elladan's stallion was standing there, so Jeren skimmed her hand over his neck as she passed. He had neither bridle nor saddle on him, as Elves usually preferred to ride. Elladan looked up as she approached. He was beautiful in the moonlight, that faint Elven glow illuminating him where he sat.
"Jeren," he said in greeting. That was all—just her name.
She sat next to him, and feeling bold, leant toward him as if to kiss his cheek. He turned his face away from her. Valar, but this hurts, she thought.
"So I guess you meant it when you said we'd no longer even be friends if I left you and sought Elrohir alone. And I suppose we'll also never be lovers again, in that case, either."
She saw that she'd shocked him, with her mention of their night together. But he recovered quickly.
"That was a mistake, Jeren. I hope you will forgive me for taking advantage of you."
She smiled. "That isn't how I remember it." She looked at him sideways, out of the corners of her eyes. "I think it may have been the other way around."
He shot her a look and she wasn't sure what it meant. Could be that he'd taken offense to her description and it wasn't virile for it to be thought that a woman could take advantage of a male. But he didn't say one way or the other.
As was her way, she got directly to the point of the matter. "Elladan after what we've shared, can you still say that you do not love me?"
"I can say that," he answered immediately. A few moments later he added softly, "but I also cannot say it."
Confused, Jeren wanted to strike him. Scream at him! But she only said, "What do you mean, Elladan?"
He finally looked at her. "What I mean is that there will never be an 'us', Jeren. We will never be together. That night was a mistake for both of us, and from now on, I will keep my distance from you. I wish you to do the same." While his words seemed harsh, his voice was sad.
With that, he got up and hopped onto his horse, riding off back toward the stables and home.
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Jeren didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Funny, she felt like doing neither. It was utter confusion she felt, and that is not a laughing or crying sort of feeling at all. She sat in the moonlight thinking about what Elladan had said. It was all pretty final. This was one dream that she must consider giving up on. It was one thing to be persistent in the hopes of achieving one's goals. It was another to be stupid when there was no chance that that goal was achievable.
As she sat there, though, she realized it wouldn't be that easy. While her head was telling her to forget about Elladan, as he obviously wanted her to, her heart was breaking. She now understood that to share your body with someone made you love them more. It didn't somehow quench the thirst you had for the one you had your heart set on—it made you thirstier.
She heard hoof beats and she tensed. Her heart hoped it was Elladan again, reconsidering what he'd told her before he'd left. But her head doubted it. He'd been very direct. He'd not stuttered or faltered when he told her they would never be together.
She turned to see whom it was that had broken in on her misery. Of all people—it was Rhyse. She wondered if he'd simply been looking for quiet or if he'd purposely come to find her. There was one way to find out—she would ask him. Perhaps he'd go away if she weren't so friendly.
He called her name as he approached her on foot. She looked at him as he stood next to her, but she did not return his greeting.
"Are you lost?" she asked, a distinct edge to her voice.
He chuckled. "No, I'm not lost," he told her. "There was somewhat of a hue and cry when you were checked upon before Lord Elrond retired; I volunteered to come look for you. He's waiting for you in his study."
She did not move to get up. It would be too much effort, even though she knew it was Elrond who awaited her. She felt bad for being such a witch to Rhyse before he'd even had a chance to tell her why he'd come. So in her most contrite voice, she asked, "Would you be so kind as to go back and tell him I am sitting in the moonlight, and would very much like to continue for awhile? I will be along soon, but ask him to please, not wait for me. I am fine. I'm merely mourning. And he knows I would do that best under a night sky."
Rhyse bowed his head in farewell, but didn't offer her any more words. Relieved, she heaved a big sigh. Now where was I when I was so rudely interrupted?
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Twenty minutes later found Jeren still on the banks of the pond. She'd lain back in the grass, gazing up into the sky. Of all the sights on Middle Earth that she'd seen so far—and she admitted to herself there weren't many—the night sky was the most lovely. Rivendell was certainly a sight to behold, that was true, and sunrises and sunsets each had their places, but the moon and stars were on the top of her list of things most beautiful.
And it was into these thoughts—which weren't thoughts much at all—that hoof beats again intruded. She fervently hoped Lord Elrond had not been concerned enough about her to come out himself. She would never want to put him to so much trouble.
She rose up on her elbows and craned her neck to see who it was. Rhyse—again. She decided she'd at least hear him out this time before she got out her broom, as it were. She lay back in the grass once more.
She could hear him dismount and say something to his horse. She heard his footsteps as he approached. She listened as he stopped beside her, probably trying to decide how to approach her this time. And then he sat down.
She waited for him to speak, but he did not. So she finally asked, "Have you a message for me?"
"Not really," he answered, but said nothing more. His voice was deep, almost raspy. Somewhat like her father's had been. She wondered if he was purposely trying to make her angry. Because whether it was purposeful or not, he was succeeding.
"So—why are you here?" she asked him bluntly.
"I was told to stay with you until you came back to the house," he replied. "When the Chieftain himself gives an order, it isn't denied by a ranger."
Jeren let out a breath. Men! She'd never understand them if she had centuries to try. She was within the borders of Rivendell. What possible harm could she come to?
"No," she said testily. "Lord Elrond—what did he say?"
"He said 'very well' and nothing more."
Jeren laid her head back and closed her eyes. She supposed this man was just obtuse as a rule. She really did not know him. The first time she'd seen him was after the battle, when she'd had a short while to study him. She supposed he was handsome, if she noticed such things about men. He had thick, straight black hair and his eyes were the silver gray of the Dunedain. His brows were even, without much arch. His eyes had a downward turn at their outside corners. His nose was straight, his nostrils slightly flared. His face was oval—no square jaw or chin on him, and his skin was brown from years in the wild. Yes, she supposed he was handsome, as these things went.
It had been so quiet that Jeren was startled when Rhyse finally spoke. "You know, we—your father and I—came to Rivendell often during the past year or so that we rode together."
Jeren sat up and looked at him then. "Often? Why was I not aware of the fact, then?" She was trying not to be angry with Anardil all over again for his neglect of her. But if he'd been to Rivendell often, why had he not sought her out every time? Why had not Lord Elrond told of his visits? She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she'd seen him while she'd lived in Imladris. Not even once a year. She could feel the hurt rebuilding in her heart.
"Sometimes we had to ride immediately back with an answer to a message from Aragorn," he told her. "And sometimes you were away on a survival drill. But other times, he merely did not want to disturb your training, although we watched it from a distance. He was extremely proud of you, you know."
"Well, he certainly fooled me." She hated the petulant sound of her voice.
"He was proud of you, but he feared for you more."
"Feared for me?" she asked doubtfully. "If anything, proficiency with weapons would make one less fearful, not more."
"I suppose he was afraid you'd want to put that training to use. You were his daughter—not his son."
"What difference does that make?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "A daughter who can protect herself is much better off than one who cannot."
"T'was different in his eyes—that's all I know."
"And what about in your eyes, Rhyse? How do you feel about a daughter who can not only protect herself, but others, as well?" Rhyse was, after all, a ranger of the Dunedain. His opinion could enlighten her as to what she was up against in her fight to win a place amongst them.
"Me?" he asked. "I've not thought much about it, I suppose, since I have no daughters on which to base an opinion."
"What a smooth answer, when one doesn't wish to upset the person who is asking the question." She couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. She'd always been a person who spoke her mind, but exposure to Elrohir over the years had perfected this particular quality in her speech.
He looked at her then, and she could see his wide smile in the moonlight. She wished to slap it off his face at the moment.
But his reply caught her off guard. "Well if the one asking the question would get to the meat of the question, perhaps one might answer more directly." So he was quite capable of sarcasm too.
"What do you mean?"
"I believe there's something else you want to know. Ask directly, and I will answer the same way."
"All right, then," she conceded, "what do you think of my wanting to join with the rangers?" She could not be more direct than that.
He did not mince words. "After seeing you train I would say you'd be an asset to the company. And Elrohir has sung your praises as a bowman in my hearing. His esteem is not lightly given." Jeren started to speak, but he wasn't finished. "However, my opinion is but one. There are many, many more that have the opposite view. Much more than a mere majority. Even if Lord Aragorn would want you admitted, the system, being majority-ruled, would not permit it."
Jeren had not seen Rhyse in the hall when she'd asked Aragorn if he would consider her for a ranger, but his answer now told her that he most likely was. Either that, or the settlement had been rife with gossip after she left, for him to have answered her question so succinctly. It was apparent to her that he had been considering it.
They were both quiet for some time. Jeren sat there thinking of ways to turn the majority's opinion toward letting her in. Rhyse was thinking of something completely different.
After a lengthy silence, he spoke again. "The other day, after you left the campsite, I had occasion to ask your father something that I'd wanted to ask him since the moment I first saw you on the training field." He hesitated only slightly, then continued, "Elladan and Elrohir had worked on his wound most heinously, and the pain was great when they finished. So I tried to distract him with conversation. I asked him would he allow me to court you."
Jeren's jaw almost dropped open, so unexpected was this remark. She barked out a laugh. "And what was his answer, pray tell?—No wait! I know what it had to have been." In her best Anaradil impression, she deepened her voice and said, "If you can find a woman beneath all those weapons, son, then you have my blessin'!"
Rhyse chuckled at her and said, "That's not far from the mark. But in the end, he did give me his blessing."
Jeren could tell Rhyse was serious, and she was anything but serious when it came to having a suitor. She never even gave it any thought, as determined as she'd been about Elladan. Even after what he'd told her tonight, where her heart was concerned, she still wouldn't be thinking of courting anyone else.
She started to tell Rhyse that she had no time at present to give courting much room in her life. But she thought before she spoke. He'd already told her he'd not be against her joining the rangers, if she could somehow manage it. It would be to her good to have all the friends she could in this endeavor. If he would sing her praises to others, before long, more opinions could be swayed. And even if she weren't as serious as he was about this courting thing, it would do no harm to let him think what he would.
"As you already know, Rhyse," she said, "I am not a traditional woman. I'm not sure what your courting me would entail."
"I only wish to get to know you better, when I come calling at Rivendell. I heard you decline Aragorn's invitation to come to the stronghold. I'd wished it were a different answer. If you were there, we would see each other more."
This had Jeren thinking. Perhaps going to the stronghold might be just the diversion she needed to stop mourning her father. She desperately hated this melancholy she found herself in. She would think on it some more—mayhap she would reconsider. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
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A/N: First of all, I want to thank Frieda for her kind review. I appreciate any and all feedback.
Next, I want to let you know that I was reading through this story last night-as published on -and realized that somehow I had accidentally posted a second or third draft of Chapter 3. I hadn't posted the chapter's final draft, as I had intended it to read. There weren't a lot of changes-only in the way Jeren searched for Elrohir and also that she ditched the saddle so that they could both ride on the one horse they had to escape on. I'm a little surprised that an alert reader didn't point it out to me in chapter 4 that they suddenly didn't have a saddle any longer! Sorry for the confusion. I have a very OLD version of Microsoft Word (2000) and it sometimes glitches when I go to save on my computer that has Windows 7. It will save the old draft instead of what I've been diligently working on for hours sometimes. Very frustrating.
So I've fixed Chapter 3 and re-posted it. I will continue to read through the story as it has been published, to see if I've done that on any of the other chapters.