Gandalf watched as her bloodied fingers slowly crept to the grip of her sword, different than the one he seen her wield in Moria, he noted with mild interest. However, his curiosity was short lived for he watched her whirl to her feet, her cloak swirling around her as she turned to face him, her blade ready in her hand. He caught but a brief glimpse of the anger that swirled in her pale eyes, fire against the rippling water, but she staggered back as the light blinded her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes as she gasped, struggling to look at him.
He smiled at her, though he knew she could not see it and plainly stated, "Someone had told me you were dead, my dear."
Her lip curled in contempt as she snarled in return, "Then you should be disappointed to see that they were wrong."
He grinned at this, hidden behind the shining light, as he watched her. "On the contrary, Aeliniel, I am quite pleased to see you well, though I must admit, upon our last meeting you did not greet me as such."
She withdrew her hand from her face, laughing darkly as she shook her head. Her eyes were distant for a moment, he saw, as she recalled some distant memory stored away amongst thousands. But then she spoke and her words were low, almost pained as she replied, "The girl that greeted you with open arms before the white streets of Annuminas, that stammered and bowed low before you, that knew not that pain and darkness that laid beyond the high walls of her home," She shook her head slowly, looking to meet his gaze without fear as she finished, "She died long ago."
And it was true, Gandalf sighed as he looked over her now. Once, at their first introduction, she had been almost painfully sweet, wishing for nothing more than someone to speak to as she had led them through that which she cherished. She had smiled with such profound innocence that he recalled feeling immense pity as he watched her, for he knew such could not last. Amera had been beautiful and fair and but a child as she had danced through the marbled streets, dark hair streaming over bare shoulders and a pale, loose gown. Yet, there had been a faint glimmer of strength within her, yes, something that she herself did not yet recognize. Saruman could not see it in his distrust of a creature so unaffected by the cares of the world, though she did not yet know them. But beneath the shining eyes and shy grin, Gandalf had sensed something more within Amera, something waiting to be awoken as it slumbered deep within her spirit.
But now, Gandalf felt his heart stir with both affection and pity as he looked over his old friend, who trembled as she struggled even to stand, tangles of dirty hair framing her pale face. And yes, there was the black eye he had been told of and he saw the rest of the angles of her face were splattered with dark blood, her lower lip thick as he detected a cut across it. Around her right shoulder was a crude bandage wrapped around her filthy hauberk and no circlet lay upon her fair head, but a wound crusted with dried blood that stained her dark hair. And her eyes, once filled with such light as to take his breath away, were now filled with anger and sorrow, regret and pain flickering as she looked at him with absolute loathing, the tilt of her neck noble as even now her slender hand gripped her blade. The fair, sweet Aeliniel that had watched him with wide, nervous eyes was gone, never to return and Amera Dagorwen, champion of the Free Peoples and bane of Angmar, had risen to take her place.
"And so it would seem, indeed." He watched her closely, her eyes watering as they battled the intensity of the light while he continued softly, "Why is it now that you greet me with blade in hand, as a foe instead of friend, as once you did."
Amera's eyes widened as she bared her teeth for a moment as her fury was revealed, her chest rising and falling as she snarled, "Because you turned your back on the Free Peoples you once claimed to care so greatly for, because your servants even now ravage all in their path as you strive to gain power that is not rightly yours."
Gandalf remained silent for a moment, taking in her passionate words, then plainly stated as Saruman once had to him, "As the Dark Lord rises in the East, Aeliniel, these Free Peoples cannot look beyond their own pride to recognize their common enemy. What bond of brotherhood remained between the races is long gone. What reasons have I to not side with the victor when no hope remains?"
"There is always hope!" Her cry rang through the silent forest as he watched, beaming with pride as she continued, her face shining with passion beneath the grime, "Even now alliances are remembered and renewed as men, dwarves and elves take up arms in defense of that which they cherish." He saw a small smile flicker across her bruised lips, her voice shining as she replied, "Even now a halfling goes forth to challenge your master."
So Frodo had left with the Ring, Gandalf noted, his suspicions had been correct. He took a step forward, hidden still behind the curtain of white light as Amera raised her sword in defense. "Your Fellowship is broken, Aeliniel." He saw her bite the corner of her lip at this, but continued, "For you know not what has become of the heir of Isildur, nor of his companions, the dwarf and the prince." She stared at him with cold fury in her eyes, unmoving as he looked over her. "And what has become of the two hobbits left in your care, perhaps they had met with someone they did not expect?"
She snarled at this, the feral within her rising to the surface as he watched her with great pride, moved by the care she had for Merry and Pippin. "Gandalf fell to the darkness of Khazad-Dum and yes, there was another," He watched her, more carefully than before, searching for signs of what he had long suspected. "What became of the captain of Gondor, of the Steward's son?"
Amera trembled at this, faltering for but a moment as deep, fresh grief appeared in her pale eyes. Her jaw was set as she slowly hissed, "You know well, Saruman, for surely your servants reported to you."
"You have seen hundreds of men fall in your long life, Aeliniel," Gandalf pried further to confirm his suspicions, though he pitied her greatly as he watched her crumble, what strength remaining in her battered body drowning beneath her grief. "Yet there is something different in your eyes now, some grief that did not rest upon the great men that you both cherished and counseled, save for this one. Tell me, Aeliniel, what is so different about Boromir, son of Gondor?"
She snarled at his, trembling furiously as her eyes blazed with pain and anger, "You have not the right to speak his name."
He took a firm step forward, repeating his question beneath a wide smile, though she was blind to it. "Why such great sorrow?"
"I loved him!" Her cry rang through the forest, pure in its sorrow as he watched tears spring to her eyes, her knuckles white as she gripped her sword with renewed intensity. "I have never wished for anything," She roared openly now, speaking from the depths of her soul as her free hand traveled to rest over her heart, "Save that my duty be fulfilled! I wanted nothingand I allowed myself to feel what I had thought myself incapable of, to give into that which was kept from me for so long." She paused now, swallowing hard as her voice cracked, thick with despair, "And I could not save him, not even from himself."
Gandalf smiled so very softly as her from behind the light that poured from him, his eyes gentle with affection as they gazed over Amera, who swallowed hard and raised her sword one last as she summoning the last vestiges of her strength. Her voice low was as she shook her head with disgust, pale tears flickering as they trailed down her face and washed away the dirt and blood.
"Pay now for the evil you have spread across this land, for your treason against the Free Peoples."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Amera knew she could not stand against Saruman now, perhaps not even at the height of her strength, for even now such great power emanated from him that her hair stood on end, her eyes burning with the intensity of the light that cloaked him. She could so barely make out his form, unable to see even his piercing, dark eyes behind the bright mantle that fell around him. Still, she could try, for she had always tried, had always hoped on that last, small hope that perhaps the victor was not always pre-determined.
And so it was that she rushed forward, her eyes blazing as she charged Saruman the White with sword raised and heart full, her mind swirling with the images of her lost friends as she cried out. Her sword swung through the air, graceful and deadly, but she dropped her sword with a gasp as it suddenly burned her, the familiar leather grip searing her hand as she stumbled backwards in fear and confusion as the great curtain between them was dropped and she looked upon the face of the being before her.
Amera fell to her knees, eyes wide as she beheld what her heart desperately wished to be true, but her mind could not conceive. She looked up into the calm, familiar eyes of one who had been lost to her, lost to the dark chasm and fiery whip of a Balrog as they met her own. He gazed down at her with such pure affection, such softness that it stole her breath away, for she wished to believe that he had somehow returned, that her mind had been deceived in the dark of Moria, but her spirit could not take yet another loss, should Gandalf prove to be but a creation of her exhausted mind. He smiled at her, the familiar wrinkles between his bushy eyebrows creasing as she felt tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over as he reached out a hand to her.
He was somehow different though, as she looked up at his form, blurred by the presence of hot, stinging tears. Gone were the bushy grey beard and tangled hair that was so familiar to her, the humble robes and twisted, earthen staff replaced. He was clad now in shining white, his beard as straight and neat as the luminous hair that fell over his shoulders like a silken waterfall. He outstretched a hand to her, his eyes tender as they met her own.
"Mithrandir…?" She whispered hoarsely, trembling furiously. She knew at once that he had somehow grown in power since their last meeting as his hand brushed her fingertips, sending a wave of energy through her. "You…you fell."
"And thus I have returned, Amera, to fulfill my duty." He murmured to her as he slowly helped her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her as she swayed. She could not take her eyes from him, still afraid that any moment he might disappear and leave her alone in the depths of the forest.
She whispered suddenly as she remembered her friends, her voice cracking slightly, "What of Merry and Pippin? Have you seen them?"
He smiled softly at his and his familiar chuckle reassured her that it was indeed Gandalf that stood before her, though perhaps a different from of the wizard she had once known so well. "They are safe, Amera, you need not worry. They are in the care of an old friend of mine, in fact, one that I should think would like to meet you when given the chance."
A thousand questions burned her tongue as she stammered to pick just one as they flooded her mind, a plethora of things that need to be addressed and discussed all at once. Finally, she coughed out, "Frodo has gone to Mordor, Gandalf. Merry and Pippin told me they saw him escape."
Gandalf nodded at this, a strange look appearing in his eyes as the shadow of a smile appeared. "So I had guessed, though my heart grows lighter to know it for certain."
"Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had been following the Uruk-Hai, I think, though I know not what has become of them since the Rohirrim charged our camp."
"I should think we will find them soon enough, Amera." He gave a supportive nod of his head and she watched him glance over her, concern appearing in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
She gave a faint smile and brushed her filthy hair back behind an ear, shrugging slightly as she tentatively retrieved her sword and upon the distinct lack of burning, resheathed it. "I have been better, though I am slowly but surely healing." He looked unconvinced and she widened her smile slightly, "I'll be fine, Gandalf. Nothing a bit of food and a quick scrub cannot fix."
"Merry and Pippin were absolutely wrought with worry about you, in case you wished to know, when I came upon them." Gandalf smiled at her, "As was another."
"And both are well, you said? Safe? Unharmed?"
"Indeed. I should think they are now safer than many in these lands."
She sighed with relief, closing her eyes in calm, but opened them a moment later as she looked to him once more. Her words were soft, almost cautious, as she inquired with but a whisper, "How is this possible, Gandalf?"
He strode forward and gently rested a hand against her shoulder, looking deep into her wide eyes as he whispered, "Once I told you that you had received a second chance, my dear Amera, to help sway the course of this world towards the light. And," He smiled comfortingly, "just as you, this is my second chance."
Amera bit her lip for a moment as she stared up at him for a moment, taking in the new form of her old friend, then gave into her emotions and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He blinked for a moment, freezing in surprise as she pressed her head against his chest and began to quietly sob with utter joy, but then chuckled and held her close as he kissed the top of her forehead warmly. Whispering to her, he continued, "I have missed you very much, Amera."
"She was your mentor, wasn't she, Gandalf?" Amera looked up, smiling as pure tears cleansed her filthy face. He perked a brow, so she continued, "Nienna. She…she spoke to me."
Gandalf smiled, his eyes distant for a moment as he nodded and quietly responded, "Yes, I walked with her long ago and took heed of what lessons she bestowed upon me."
"She created me."
"I know."
Amera blinked, tilting her head slightly. "You knew all along, didn't you?"
Gandalf smiled at her in that way only he was capable of, revealing nothing and so much all at once as he calmly stated, "The past is best discovered through ourselves, Amera, it was not my place to speak to you of such."
She nodded slowly, recognizing the wisdom in his words, but as she went to ask more was silenced as he held a hand, his eyes glittering mischievously as he laughed, "We will have time to discuss things further, but much has yet to be done." Amera nodded and fell silent as he continued, pointing towards the depths of the forest, "To the east lies a small glade, where you will find water with which to cleanse and refresh yourself. Wait for me there, Amera."
Amera wanted to question him further, but instead nodded and brushed off her hauberk , her fingers weaving through her knotted hair as she pulled it over her ears. She turned to go, but looked over her shoulder as he smiled at her, resisting a wide grin as he stated mysteriously, "There waits for you someone I should think you'd be glad to see."
She blinked in confusion and tried to ask further, but Gandalf had already retreated into the shadow of the woods. She sighed and shrugged, her eyes growing heavy as the promise of water encouraged her tired feet to carry her onwards into the forest. The moonlight guided her path as she walked, no longer afraid of the twisted trees that rose so high above her, of the stale air and resounding silence, for Gandalf had somehow returned to them. Somehow, hope had been restored.
And so it was that a few minutes she came unto the small glade, her eyes widening with joy as she did indeed spy what appeared to be a sort of miniature lake, fed by a tiny waterfall and stream. The glistening cool of the water look so inviting, so refreshing that the thought of a bath threatened to overthrow all other thoughts, but she carefully glanced around as she remembered Gandalf's words. Narrowing her eyes, she perked a brow as she was unable to make out anything but shadows and starlight.
Amera paused as she noticed something, blinking as her eyes strained to make out a form that she spied beneath one of the great trees. She carefully rested her hand on the grip of her blade as she cautiously stepped forward, refocusing her vision slowly as she struggled to identity whatever it was. It was so dark she was unable to make out anything but its outline, its features hidden from her as she tentatively approached. However, the moon then passed from behind a cloud and its light gently fell through the thick leaves above her head, making its way past the gnarled branches to illuminate the figure resting so gently amongst the ancient roots.
She gasped, her eyes wide as her mouth fell open and choked sob escaped her lips as she fell to her knees. Her sword slipped from her hand and bounced against the soft earth just once before falling still. She stared ahead in utter disbelief, for it could not be. It could not be. Her chest rose and fell as tears began to stream down her face, her mind utterly blank save for one name while her hands shook by her sides as the moonlight revealed what had been lost to her.
For there, sleeping peacefully in the pale light, was Boromir.
