Aravir rested on the ground of Dunland with his hands behind his head. The stars reflected off of his big, stormy blue eyes as he stared up into the night sky. Oh, how peaceful it was to hear the sounds of nature, rather than the ruckus coming from Mordor. He heard owls hooting and crickets chirping instead of thunder cracking and volcanoes erupting. Rather than the cries of evil creatures, Aravir heard the softness of the wind caressing the branches of nearby trees and touching ever blade of soft grass around him. It was perhaps the calmest of nights the boy had ever lived. And yet, Aravir felt more distraught, homesick, uneasy and impatient than ever before. He looked at the moon and thought of his mother and how terribly he missed her. His heart ached so painfully that it tempted him to turn around, abandoning Lord Elrond and going back home. Rivendell was barely a month away; Minas Tirith was at least three and yet it sounded much better. Aravir found himself growing angry – angry that he still had weeks to travel before reaching Rivendell. With a sigh, he looked over to where his stead stood, chewing on a bite of hay in a nearly humorously gawky fashion.
"After months of riding on your back, I feel as though the coming days will be twice as long – making one week as long as two, and the rest of this journey equally as long as what we have covered already." He paused and chuckled. "Poor you. You've been galloping for so long; I cannot imagine how you're feeling. Agitated with time? Well ready for this to be over?"
The horse opened its mouth, revealing its large teeth, and made a strange noise. To Aravir (who laughed out loud in response), it sounded like an Orc with a belly ache. Once his laughter ceased, Aravir's brow furrowed at his steed. "No horse should make that sound – it certainly won't impress the mares of the stable. I suppose you're not worrying about that. We should first find a stable, yes?"
Its snout was already turned away – its attention directed elsewhere. Aravir rolled over onto his side and tucked his arms underneath his head. He was restless in spirit, but his body was exhausted, and so he forced himself to fall into slumber, dreading the long day ahead.
Four months and five days after leaving Minas Tirith, Aravir rode through the gates of Rivendell. It was early in the morning, but still the foliage glowed in brilliant shades of orange and gold. Even the leaves on the stone ground were just as beautiful as those which were still hanging on the trees. The air was crisp and refreshing, and the scent of honey and rich spices flowed freely in the wind. Mouth agape, Aravir dismounted and stepped forward. All was silent with the exception of the leaves and branches moving in the breeze. Aravir could hear his own boots tapping on the stone below, which made him feel as though his presence was a disturbance to the blissful peace.
Yet in Rivendell's entire perfection-like demeanor, one thing was wrong . . .
There was no one in sight.
Aravir was so excited to see the Elves – the beings he had heard so many great and intriguing stories about as a child, that he was almost angered to see none. "Hello?" he called. But his own voice echoed back to him, much to his dismay. He walked slowly ahead until the gate was out of view and still there was not an Elf in sight. Or any person of any race for that matter. Had everyone gone off? Were the Elves hiding? Aravir wondered. "Hello?" he called out again. There was more silence . . . for a moment.
"HALT!" a voice screamed.
From behind the walls, shrubs, and every place there was to hind behind came an Elf warrior with their sharp eyes and arrows fixed on him. Aravir felt his heart skip a beat, and before he knew it his arms were bent upward at the elbows with hands wide open in a gesture of surrender.
"When the days were good," one of the Elves began, taking a step closer to the boy "visitors were welcome here in Rivendell as long as they were friendly and came in peace."
"But I do come in p-"
"Our gates do not receive as freely anymore. If you are uninvited, you are unwelcome."
"You need not worry, Master Elf." Aravir replied, holding his position but giving his head a slow nod. "My name is Aravir son of Araval, and I am from Gondor's capitol city of Minas Tirith. I am here as requested by Lord Elrond. For what business, I am unsure."
"Not easily will believe you. Speakers of truth are rare to come by in this age, but liars, spies, and harm doers are an everyday occurrence." The Elf pulled back on the string of his bow.
"Only Lord Elrond can prove that I am not lying and that I am not a spy." Aravir said, raising his voice a little. "But answer me this: would any harm doer come alone? If I wished to ambush your city and your citizens, surely I would have brought many men with me, yet I am alone with just a sword and a horse. Look around you. Do you see any snipers positioned on your rooftops? Do you hear swords being pulled from their scabbards? No, because-"
"I see and hear neither of these things you mentioned." a third voice interrupted. It was much deeper and more vibrant than the others.
An Elf dressed in fine clothes, finer than those which the Elven soldiers wore, and a crown upon his head walked down a small flight of stairs and passed his soldiers, meeting Aravir face to face. His face was long as was his hair, and his dark eyes stern, but a small smile had formed on his thin lips.
"Lord Elrond?" Aravir asked.
In response, he simply nodded his head. Aravir immediately bowed his head and went down on one knee, honored and awe-struck to be in the presence of an Elf lord. Suddenly (and for the first time since leaving his home city), Aravir felt that the journey was worth it.
"Your father never bowed down to me, and I don't require you to either. Rise, Aravir, son of my late friend, Araval. Walk with me."
The two walked together, but didn't utter a single word. Aravir's wide, childlike eyes scanned all of his surroundings, taking in every new sight they possibly could. Lord Elrond watched; a small smirk ever-present. Eighteen years he waited to lay eyes on the boy again, and here he was – tall, strong, and able-bodied, almost a smitten image of his father with the exception of a neatly kept beard. Elrond led him to a house and a room which looked to be nothing more than a study. On the west wall there was a table. On the table were different types of bread, crackers, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and a jug of wine and another of water. There was also a variety of what looked to be spices, but Aravir was not certain, having never seen anything like them before. He could not even tell if they were edible.
"Refreshments?" Lord Elrond asked as he poured water into a silver cup. To his surprise, Aravir was silent. "What is it, my boy?"
"I don't mean to offend," Aravir began, his throat feeling dry with a sudden onset of nervousness. "but the hospitality here in Rivendell has me quite bewildered. First you welcome me with sharp arrows and feisty warriors, only to invite me into your home and offer me food and drink?"
Elrond chuckled. "You are our friend."
"And if I were a foe . . .?"
"Then you would be dead." Elrond replied, his smile fading. "Friends receive good treatment, as we must treat our friends with goodness if we hope to keep them in these dark times. However, our enemies receive death. They die before catching so much as a glimpse of a single loved one in their minds."
Aravir's stormy blue eyes grew wide, and his jaw hung open a little. He knew the Elves were tough creatures, who only the foolish even dared to oppose, but Elrond's voice and his way of wording it helped the message to hit home. The Elf offered the silver cup to Aravir and smiled again. "Refreshments?"
Aravir then took the cup from Lord Elrond and took a sip of the ice cold water. He was amazed. Even the beverages in Rivendell were more satisfying than any other he ever had, and just with one sip.
"I imagine after four months of journeying you are eager to sit down and savor a good meal. Make yourself a plate – don't be stingy, fill it to the very edges if you wish, and then come meet me in the next room. I will gladly explain my reason for summoning you."