Wow, it has been forever and a day since I last submitted something on here, hopefully those of you who have been reading this story have not lost interest. I apologize for that long, long long hiatus I took but real life does tend to invade valuable hours of fanfic writing. I struggled a lot with how to continue this storyline and not get mired in things. I figured the best way to do that is to return to the characters and story Tolkien created for a time and work from there. Hopefully this new direction is the one I should take. PLease read and Review, I have been out of fanfic practice for a while and fear I may have gotten rusty.
Rain fell in hard torrents upon the roof as thunder rolled in the distance; these midsummer storms often came with great surprise from the Misty Mountains. Even so there was much to do and many places to go in the city of Imladris; the Lord and Lady's building plan had turned the small refuge into a city, which now out spanned Caras Galadhon, and taking guidance of the annual monsoon season that caused the waters of the Brunien to flow to three times its usual height, they connected the many larger centers and markets by a simple system of arched stone and wood covered bridges. As Arwen looked out at the city her father had built she could not help but wonder what the new seasons would bring, the wet and torrentous rainy season, the warm coming of autumn's stillness, and the bitter cold of winter's chill. The seasons blended into paintings in the hidden valley and the elves lost count of time and no longer counted the passing of the years, preferring rather to stem the passage of time, subconsciously disregarding it so as to not give it power over their lives.
She however was different. The years meant everything to her, the rising and setting of the sun and moon she counted as a tavern keeper counted the coins at the end of the night, when the customers had gone home. The seasons and years brought with them subtle changes in the world around and while most elves neglected the passage of cruel time, which destroyed and altered the world they had come to think of as theirs, Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, counted them as though counting the moments till there was some finality in her daily actions. She knew in the depths of her mind that there was something akin to an ending in her life. Yet no matter how long and hard she looked into the mists of time and space, she could not fathom the future before her, for all was shadows and empty sounds.
"How long has it rained? It feels like forever!"
She removed her eyes from the curtain of water outside of the window and turned them to her anxious brother who slouched in his seat, dropping the knife he had sharpened to a flawless degree of cutting ability.
"It has only been a few days, Elladan, it will let up, it always will."
His twin, seated across the way bit into a leather strap and tightened the knot he had tied on his travelling pack. Arwen put down her book running her fingers over the silver embossed Cirth runes written on the green leather jacket; they read in the ancient almost defunct Doriathic Sindarin, "Accounts of the Founding of Doriath and the Hinterlands of Beleriand, of Thingol's Realm". She looked up at both of her brothers and said matter-of-factly,
"It has been four weeks…Elladan is right it does feel like forever."
Her eyes grew tired from her reading and she placed her book upon the cushion she had curled up on. She stood and stretched her shapely form raising her hands to the sky like a sapling after the spring defrost. She almost was as tall as her brothers, then again they were always rather short by most elves' standards, having inherited their height from their father rather than their mother's side.
"It can't have been four weeks!"
"The rains came in on 45 Lairë, according to the count of days it is already the 14th of Yávië, the cooks are already preparing the autumnal squash soup."
Her brothers looked at her quixotically, and Elrohir, smiling mischievously quipped,
"With someone whose nose is in books all the time you do have a rather adept grasp of time."
Arwen smiled shyly as she placed her book softly upon the sofa and stood; her bones and muscles ached to move and run and dance. Usually at this time of year she was in her grandparents' home in Lothlorien, rejoicing in the dry weather of Southern Greenwood- riding Arato, her white mare, beside her Grandfather, along the ridges and defensive walls of her Grandparents' and Uncle's realm. Her brothers felt the same, they were used to riding and walking in the wild world outside Imladris; being cooped up inside made them stir crazy and they were often found playing pranks on their father's ministers and advisors like they used to when they were children and young ellyn.
A sudden creaking of a door caught the three elves' attention as their mother entered the study where they lounged; Celebrian glided into the room followed by her main attendants and ladies in waiting. They were rather loud as they called her attention to matters of state and marketplace disputes which she was in charge of while her husband was away in Mithlond. At the end of the large group a golden-haired elf of indeterminate age sidled into the room with two cloaked individuals. Celebrian looked more stressed than usual but handled each complaint one by one. She sat at her husband's desk and opened his ledger in which her scribe wrote down appointments with the head of the Inglorion clan and with the merchant's association for the next day. She sighed heavily as in the din she ordered her main lady-in-waiting to escort everyone one out and send in Anamereth, the head cook. Her head attendant awkwardly escorted the other attendants out of the door from which they came and left Celebrian slouching in her husband's chair oblivious to the presence of her children. As she scanned the room she saw the three pairs of eyes looking at her and she twitched from being startled.
"What are you doing here?"
She said at first, not expecting them to be there, but then she regained her composure and smiled at her daughter who began to approach.
"How long have they been at it?"
She said referring to the barrage of complaints and voices that had just left the room.
"Since 6 this morning, they didn't even wait for me to bathe. Honestly it is as though they cannot run things for themselves when your father leaves."
"I doubt it is that bad, they probably think that you will give in to their demands more easily than father would. More so if they badger you."
,said Arwen as she readjusted her mother's coronet which had been braided into her silver-white tresses
Celebrian looked at her daughter with a smirk on her lips and an upturned eyebrow.
"A shrewd answer my Daughter. And you are probably right…poor fools if they think they can bully me. I am the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn for Varda's sake; I could run a city by the time I was in my tweens."
The elf-lady chuckled as she winked at her sons who smiled in response. She scanned the study again and was surprised to see three more figures standing by the bookcase by the entrance to Elrond's study. The golden haired elf approached and bowed in a gesture of respect, Celebrian stood and patted down the wrinkles in her crushed purple velvet gown,
"Glorfindel, it is very improper to eavesdrop on a family conversation, no matter how dear a friend you are to us…"
"I meant no offense Lady of Imladris, I would have left with the rest, if my companions did not demand that we stay put."
Celebrian looked at the two other figures, one cloaked in muddy grey and holding a gnarled wooden staff, the other covered in a near flawless white and holding a black staff. Celebrian sighed and waved the three over, smiling as a frumpy elder elf-lady entered into the room, wearing a white apron and covered in flour and smelling of cinnamon.
"Ah Anamereth, if you would oblige, food for seven to be eaten in my husband's study. I know it is long past the luncheon hour and don't want to put you out..."
The Elf-lady, Anamareth waved off the apology and said proudly,
"For the house of Celebrian, my lady, the kitchen is always open, I will have my daughter prepare something sweet as well for you and your children."
"No need to make Melethnil work harder…she is already preparing for the feast of Elrond's return."
But by the time Celebrian said this, Anamereth had already exited the study. The elf-lady sighed and smiled, shrugging her shoulders,
"She is the best cook in all of Elvendom, yet she is incredibly pushy; I myself have gained several pounds since she has been employed in Imladris."
Glorfindel smirked as he looked at the twins,
"The Lady of Imladris is beauteous in both wisdom and form, I am sure it is a trick of the mirrors my Lady…Besides you cannot fault her Sindar hospitality. "
"You are a brilliant warrior, Glorfindel, but a horrible liar."
Her attention turned toward the two Istari who sat smiling and bemused but who still wore worry upon their brow. She placed her folded hands firmly upon the desk and looked at them in an unbroken gaze, her piercing blue eyes shining like sapphires upon her alabaster skin. Saruman began, he being the firmer of voice and confidence, his face seemed less weathered in the short time the Istari had been living and laboring in Middle Earth on whatever errand they had been sent on. Yet before he could speak Celebrian calculatingly said.
"And what brings Mithrandir and Saruman to my husband's study?…For it is said even now among the elven lords that when Istari come to your door, they rarely seek tea and shelter. Could it be that they seek a contingent of spear-men from Imladris to aid King Ciryaher of Gondor in his bid to seek revenge upon the Southern Lands? "
Saruman, clearly surprised by Celebrian's knowledge of southern affairs, sat mouth agape and looked quixotically at his traveling companion; at this Mithrandir smiled like an old grandfather and spoke,
"Much has already passed by your door and your ears Lady of Imladris, but as to our purpose it falls short. We know Elrond Peredhil has great influence in the courts of Arthedain and Rhudaur, it is to them that the Gondorians seek aid and reinforcements. Ciryaher does not desire to remove the citizens of Arnor from Middle Earth, yet only desires men to take up the guard of Mordor and defend Osgiliath until his mission is complete."
"And what mission is that, vengeance? Such a thing is no just reason to go to war or to command an army of young men to sacrifice their lives."
Arwen's voice came out clear from behind her book, Glorfindel looked at her and said,
"Gondor lost its king to the Haradhrim, young lady Arwen, such a loss is a terrible blow to the might of Gondor and cannot go unpunished. "
Mithrandir spoke at this,
"While I agree with Arwen concerning vengeance I doubt any tactic of diplomacy would work in negotiations with the Haradhrim. They are ruled, some say, from afar by Khamul the Shadow of the East, Lieutenant of Sauron's armies in the Great War. Diplomacy works only when the two parties have an interest in keeping peace. The Harad have no such interest, nor do the Eastern peoples who long ago allied with the Deceiver. War seems to be the only option."
Arwen grew silent at this and returned to listening, still contemplating the events of the wide world around. Celebrian sighed and said to the three before her,
"Elrond is not here, and I do not doubt that what you ask for will not go unanswered by him when he returns. Tomorrow we shall meet him upon the road to Arthedain and make a detour to the courts of the three kings. Perhaps their minds will be turned toward the plight and grievances of their southern kin. Until then please take up lodgings beside the river and rest your weary bones. Imladris is open to you at all times Mithrandir."
At this a bell rang and servants entered the study bearing trays of fruit and cheeses, which were laid out upon a stone table in the center of the study. The wine was poured as the Istari and Glorfindel stood to take some of the fruit and cheeses, not having eaten a proper meal since they began their journey three days ago. Arwen stood from her place and went to the window; she knew in her heart of hearts that King Ciryaher's cause to go to war was unjust, but at the same time the Harad had long been enemies of the Numenoreans and their descendents. Was this just one more battle in a war that began many centuries before?
She often wondered if this type of infighting among the Second-born was common, as it apparently was in the First age of the world. Even so, who was she, an elleth born of Sindar and Noldor lineages to question what drove people to turn against one another? Had not her people committed atrocities upon one another for what seemed like unjust causes to? Ciryaher was waging war to avenge his father's death, Feanor waged war to recapture a handful of jewels. She wrapped her arms around the book in her hands and watched as the storm clouds broke and revealed a bright noontime sun peaking over the Misty Mountains, causing the white churning water of the Bruinen to glimmer pale and silver. The rains had ended, and war had begun.