"Yer supposed to be dead, lass!" Gimli looked up to Amera in absolute confusion, taking note of the few bruises that dotted her pale skin and the sheen of purple above her right eye, left by what had clearly once been a wicked black eye. Besides this, she looked the same as ever, flashing that strange, feral grin she occasionally revealed. She knelt and returned his hug warmly, laughing as she replied, "I am quite sorry to disappoint you, master dwarf, but by the grace of the Valar, I've still yet live on."
"You need to stop doin' that, ya know, getting yourself into those sorts of situations," He nodded firmly to her, "Your luck is bound to run out soon."
Her eyes flashed with mischief, "I assure you I shall do my very best, Gimli."
Gimli then watched as she rose, placing a hand over her heart and inclining her head towards Legolas as she muttered something he couldn't understand and truly had no interest in. Legolas returned the motion, a faint smile appearing as he calmly replied in the common tongue, "You must tell me further of your meeting with the forest lord, for great has been my desire to one day gaze upon such." She smiled politely and nodded once more, then grinned widely as she strolled towards Aragorn.
"My king."
He held her tightly, closing his eyes in what Gimli decided to be relief as he whispered something to her, pressing his lips affectionately against her dark curls as he released her. There was some sort of silent agreement that passed between them as their eyes met for a moment, but Gimli broke his gaze from them as approached Boromir, who silently watched the proceedings with a sort of tentative shyness. A faint smile crossed his strong features as he tilted his head towards Gimli, murmuring, "Well met, friend."
Gimli snorted at this, shaking his head as he gave him a firm embrace of the masculine sort, he decided. Such reunions warmed his heart, for the dwarf knew that such happiness, simple as it was, steadily grew rarer in times of war and strife. But yet, he decided with a distant smile, it was in such darkness that even the simplest light gleamed with a renewed beauty.
Gandalf then stepped forward and held a hand up for silence, a faint light emanating from him even in the afternoon light. They all grew silent as they turned to watch him as he slowly faced the widespread plains of Rohan that lay before them. Gimli looked out over them as well, almost uneasy as his eyes scanned the seemingly endless land that spread as far as one could see, golden grass rippling as the breeze swayed its sheathes. Such land was strange to him, the distance between earth and sky far too distant to ever be familiar to a dwarf, for his roof was marble and stone, not the pale blue sky filled with lazy, pale clouds that shimmered above the snowy peaks of distant mountains.
He blinked in surprise as Gandalf suddenly issued a high whistle that seemed to echo across the plains, rippling gently as it was carried by the breeze. Amera was silent beside him, he saw, her eyes distant as she too gazed out at the foreign lands that lay before them. Gimli stood silently, shifting as nothing happened. He peeked a glance at the wizard from the corner of his eye and slowly perked a brow, waiting for some sort of result.
And lo and behold, there appeared a great white stallion, its luminescence stark against the copper fields as it galloped freely across the plains. Gimli gasped quietly and lowering his head in respect as the magnificent steed approached, for though he was no horse lord, he nonetheless knew that the creature before him was as noble as any king and as wise as any wizard in its majesty. It slowed to a trot and reached its nose out to gentle rub against Gandalf's outstretched; a greeting between old friends. "One of the Mearas…" Legolas whispered from beside him, his voice as soft with reverence as his eyes were wide. Gimli hadn't any sort of idea what that was, but he decided he rather liked the sound of his as he looked over the beautiful steed, which whinnying a gentle greeting as Gandalf slowly stroked its mane.
He murmured, more to himself than his companions, "Shadowfax has ever been a steadfast companion to me," He smiled affectionately, "And an honor it is to have him by my side."
Gimli then realized something, coughing as delicately as any dwarf could to gather the attention of his companions, and spoke up, "Perhaps I've been the only one thinkin' ahead, but unless I'm somehow missing something, there's six of us and only three horses."
Gandalf looked over his shoulder and issued a small smile that lingered with mischief. "I should think that not a problem.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Put your hands around my waist, Gimli. Both of us will fall if you keep grasping my robes." Aragorn held back a grin as Amera sighed once more, clearly losing her patience as the dwarf seemed incredibly uncomfortable as behind her. It did make for a rather comical picture, a stout dwarf sharing a mount with a slender young lady, and both he and Boromir had difficulty keeping their laughter down as Gimli shifted repeatedly, staring at Amera's back warily.
While no one save Legolas, whose normally placid features seemed almost giddy at the prospect of riding with Gandalf and Shadowfax, was terribly thrilled with the current situation, Gimli had appeared nothing short of horrified when told he should ride with Amera. Both Aragorn and Boromir had been forced to turn away, lest they reveal their great amusement, as Gimli attempted to share the saddle with Amera yet still refrain from brushing up against her in any way, shape or form. She, however, had been less than entertained and began gnawing on her lip as she struggled to control her rising frustration. However, Aragorn noted they finally had seemed to settle themselves, though he was certain he detected a blush behind the dwarf's beard as he clutched Amera's waist tightly.
"Have you been to Meduseld, Aragorn?" Boromir quietly spoke up from behind him as he readied the reins in his hands. Aragorn briefly glanced over his shoulder and offered a small nod, his eyes growing distant as they looked over the rough, untamed land that stretched before him like an ocean. "Yes, once….long ago."
"We have not had dealings with Rohan for years." Boromir stated absently as he shifted in the saddle, adjusting himself before their travel would begin. "My people," He paused then, then gently restated, "Our people have been too preoccupied with the stirrings of Mordor to fear the shadow of Isengard."
Our people. Aragorn did not reply to this as he gently nudged the mount's flanks with his heels as he urged it forward, rolling the word around in his mind as Gandalf turned to them. His hands were free, placed gently on the sides of Shadowfax's neck, for the lord of the Mearas would not take reins for it was by his free will that he carried the wizard and elf, Aragorn knew. Amera patted her own horse gently and leaned to brush her lips against its neck, while Gimli flinched nervously at the unexpected movement.
"Ride swiftly, for know that Saruman tightens the noose around these lands with each passing minute." Gandalf solemnly stated, turning his gaze to the path before them, "We must delay."
And so it was that a wizard, an elven prince, a lost king, a water spirit, a dwarf lord and a captain of Gondor rode forth across the plains of Rohan.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Was it Nienna, Gandalf?" Amera quietly murmured as she moved to stand beside him, treading silently across the rocky ground so as not to wake the rest of her companions. She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she sat beside him, breathing in the earthy, sweet scent of his pipe as he looked out over the endless dark of Rohan.
"Hm?" He perked a brow and turned to face her as she made herself comfortable beside him, curling her slender legs beneath her as her pale eyes flickered in the firelight.
"Was by Nienna's grace that you return to us, Gandalf?"
He smiled faintly, his eyes distant as his voice lowered to but a whisper that floated upon the cool, night air, "She, and others, pleaded for me, if that is what you ask, Amera."
Amera gave a small nod, biting in the corner of her lip for a moment as she looked out into the night. The pale light of the stars and moon shone down upon the ragged peaks in the distance, their snowy caps glistening against the harsh stone of their bases. Soft waves rippled across the fields, dotted with rocky outcrops that sprung up without rhyme or reason. It was beautiful and foreign to her, for Evendim was crested with hills and valleys, lakes and streams twisting their ways beneath the fragrant pines and willows that now were at one with the ruins of the once prosperous kingdom.
She looked back to him then and whispered, "What was it like?" He tilted his head to her, drawing deeply from his pipe as she softly elaborated, looking to her feet. "What was it like to die?"
He slowly raised a brow, watching her from the corner of his eye, "Do you fear death, Amera?"
An immediate response. "No." She then shifted slightly, pulling her cloak up to her chin as she quietly stated, "I just want to know what happens to me if I die," Amera looked to him, her great age revealed briefly in her eyes, "I am not of flesh and blood, Mithrandir, nor are you, though we have both chosen to cloak ourselves beneath such"
He puffed contentedly in agreement and she looked away, back to the land before her as she whispered, "What is my ending to be, then? Do I return from whence I came? To swirl thoughtlessly and eternally through the blue of Evendim?"
"Why such heavy questions as these, Amera?"
She sighed, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand and Gandalf could see the exhaustion in her face as she let slip her mask, murmuring, "Galadriel said that if we should," She paused, "If we should fail in our quest, that I will never find peace, that my spirit will forever be tortured until the ending of the world."
"And yet she told me you rejected her offer to escape this potential fate."
"I...I would not abandon the Free Peoples are all these years."
"You have always had a choice, you know."
"A choice of what?" She tilted her head to him in curiosity.
He turned to her and she recognized the familiar glimmer of wisdom in his blue eyes, though his form had so greatly changed. "Just as Saruman, you could have chosen to side with that which thirsts for power, for control and domination. And this path would certainly have been easier, make no mistake of that. And even now, my dear Amera, that choice lies before you. But," He then let out a small smoke ring, smiling to her as he watched it disappear into the night, "You have instead allied yourself with the weak and the fearful, to bring hope instead of sorrow, though you have suffered for it."
She looked down at her hands and ran her thumbs over her fingers, as if staring at some invisible stain as she whispered, "I was born of mercy and sorrow, old friend, of tears and of hope." She looked to him. "Is it not fitting that my life has reflected such?"
Gandalf grew silent then, drawing deeply from his pipe as the breeze stirred his silver hair around his shoulders as he too looked up at the glittering stars and pale clouds that would briefly cloak them, only to be pulled away by the cool breeze a breath later. "It was dark, so very dark," Amera was silent as she watched him, his eyes growing distant as he slowly recalled, "And I was burnt with both fire and ice, my body crying out for relief from such pain as the body of my empty lay beneath me on the icy peak of Zirak-zigil. I collapsed and was granted this leave, this brief escape from such pain that I thought myself unable to endure."
He closed his eyes then, a faint smile appearing on his lips and Amera reached out without thinking, placing her slender hand over his as he murmured, "The ages of the world passed before me in but a moment as the very light of the stars pierced my soul, illuminating all that which has been or shall come to be. It was an eternity and a blink of the eye, a heartbeat and a slumber from which I did not think I should wake." He sighed then in what was almost ecstasy, looking so utterly and profoundly peaceful that Amera wished her friend to never stir as to break the spell cast over him by such recollections. "And then, all at once, life flowed through me, burning and chilling me with its force as I regained that which I had lost. I knew then, without a doubt," He opened his eyes to smile at her, wrinkles appearing in the corners of his wide eyes, "That my time on this Middle-earth had not yet come to a close, for my work is not yet completed."
"I…I don't understand, Gandalf." Amera whispered to him.
"Sometimes, Amera, good can intervene." He nodded warmly to her, his eyes affectionate. "Sometimes what should be bends its will to what is right." He squeezed her hand gently and she closed her eyes, gasping slightly as she felt a current of energy, of light suddenly rush through her tired body, just as once Nienna had healed her broken spirit in that dark place.
She opened her eyes, now filled with tears at that beauty of that which she had just seen, had experienced and felt at the core of her spirit. Gandalf looked knowingly at her and her heart swelled with affection for him, for this hope that had been restored by the grace of the Valar, sent to Middle-earth in its time of utmost need.
Amera slowly rose as Gandalf returned to puffing on his pipe, blinking once as the wizard murmured, "Boromir looks rather cold, Amera, perhaps you might share your cloak with him?" She raised both brows in surprise, blushing as he responded with a wink so brief she fancied that she had imagined it. She smiled faintly and murmured, "Are you not even surprised, Gandalf?"
"At what? That a headstrong, fiery young woman with an absolute disrespect for authority and an infuriatingly proud, stubborn captain of Gondor unequalled in his bravery should find themselves drawn to each other in times such as these?"
"Well, that rather answered my question." She retreated from beside him and curled up beside the strong body of Boromir, closing her eyes as he shifted sleepily and draped an arm over her shoulders. And so it was that Amera was lulled to sleep by the quiet chuckles of Gandalf the White and the steady breath of the one whom she loved.
