Chapter Three
Six days after Gandalf arrived at Imladris, a figure shrouded in a dark purple, velvet cloak rode into the elven city in the afternoon. She went unnoticed as she brought her trusty chocolate brown stallion into the stables. She continued her inconspicuous entrance by walking unhurriedly to the library. The second she walked in, she saw the very two people she was looking for up on the second level beside a set of windows.
Silently, she walked up the stairs before walking towards them in the shadows. They would not notice her here. Just as she got close enough to hear the conversation, the closer one turned and said, "Anariel! You're here!"
Anariel nodded, though she kept her hood up, shielding her from view. Only now did she step into the light and take long strides to the waiting people.
"Mae govannen, Elrond," she said, nodding to the farther figure. He wore a robe of lavender. She turned her head to the figure robed in grey. "Olorin," she said simply.
"The meeting is tomorrow," Gandalf said, looking pointedly at her.
"You want me to go, but what do you expect of me if I do?" she asked perceptively.
"You won't have to share your side this time. Merely your presence will suffice," he assured her.
"What do you want to know about the First War?" she asked. Her face and especially her eyes were quite hard as she asked this, though that was all hidden by the hood.
Before answering, Mithrandir paused for a second to decide how to phrase his response. This was, after all, quite the delicate topic. "I…" he began, "…I…Did he ever…begin melechant?"
"No," she said in a blank voice.
Mithrandir held out his hand for her. She took it with absolutely no hesitance, for they had overcome that obstacle many, many years ago. He squeezed her hand once before asking the crucial question. "Did he ever ask you about your powers?"
"No," she said. Her voice held more strength than last time. It seemed as though she was intent upon finishing this questioning. That seemed to be her only objective currently.
"Thank the Valar for that," he said, putting his other hand on hers.
Anariel inclined her head and asked, "Is that all you wanted to know?"
"I wanted to know if you would help us," Gandalf said.
"Help you? Help Middle Earth. The last time I did that, he nearly killed me. Why would I help again?" she said venomously.
"You cannot escape to the sea now, Anariel, until this business is finished. Why not help and ensure that he does not regain control?" Gandalf asked.
"You know very well what could happen. You know what he would do to me," she said.
"Yes, but how long will it take before he tries to cross the sea?" Gandalf asked.
Anariel was silent at this. After several seconds, she turned away from both of them and began to walk away. As she did that, she said loudly enough that they could hear her, "I will think on it."
oooooooooooooo
Aragorn sat reading late into the evening. Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He looked up to see one of the men from Gondor studying a painting of Isildur fighting against Sauron. Seconds later, he turned and saw Aragorn.
"You are no elf," the man said in surprise.
"The men of the South are welcome here," Aragorn said simply.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I am a friend to Gandalf the Grey," Aragorn said simply.
"Then we are here on a common purpose…" the man said in recognition. Hesitantly, he added in companionship while smiling, "Friend." The man frowned for a second, but smiled again hoping to be welcoming to Aragorn.
The man turned to the other side and saw a shrine. There was a statue of a woman and in her hands rested the shards of Narsil, Isildur's father's sword. He picked up the haft and tested its weight while studying the blade. "The shards of Narsil! The blade that cut the ring from Sauron's hand!" he exclaimed in awe. He ran his finger along the edge, thinking it was dull. He jerked his finger away in surprise when the edge cut him, drawing blood. "It's still sharp!" he exclaimed in amazement.
He turned to look at Aragorn only to find the ranger watching him closely. "But no more than a broken heirloom!" he said in disdain. He very nearly tossed the sword back to its place. It missed the shelf and clattered loudly to the ground.
The man hesitated before walking away, for he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He looked over to the level below theirs. There was a person walking there, enshrouded in a dark cloak. "What elf wears a cloak in Rivendell?" he asked.
Aragorn looked down at the figure. As he watched, she turned and looked straight up at him. He looked away guiltily. He then looked up at the man and said, "She is not an elf."
The man frowned and looked back down, but she was gone. He swallowed uneasily and hurried away to his room.