Chapter 12: A Different Wind

In the mists of the evening, Coran could find only one thing to do. And that was to read. In her weeks at Imladris she had learned so much: basics of sword fighting, archery, advanced healing, and the like. It was like her schooling all over again. Her peers were the hobbits, who needed the lessons as well. Aragorn, Telthedir, and the other members of the Fellowship all shared responsibility in teaching them. Elrond, additionally, spent many days and nights laboring with her over his medical tomes and patients. She was well-attended to when it came to education.

However, with this much attention to her studies, she felt drained and trapped. She wished to just relax a little bit. She couldn't roam the grounds as often as she used to and no longer did she take Suldal out riding, unless they were practicing archery or sword fighting on horseback. With her schedule, she would be so exhausted that she would go right to sleep as soon as she was dismissed and have to wake up the next day early to do it all again. Slowly, though, she was getting stronger, faster, better. She, from the beginning, had been able to overpower the hobbits, but now, very rarely, was able to disarm or outshoot one of her teachers.

But this busy schedule did do one positive thing: it kept her mind off Feredir for most of the day. Every day she thought of him, and prayed for him in front of Gilraen's memorial, hoping that the matron would influence his path to redemption and eternal life. She was happy, though, through the pain. Being so busy she was slowly accepting her life without him. The dancing and the singing in the Hall of Fire eased her heart and so did the friendships she formed.

Most mornings, before dawn, just as the dew was setting, she would kneel before Gilraen, the one the younger generation called the Mother. She would mutter prayers, asking for the Mother to lead Feredir to their everlasting home and to ask Eru Ilúvatar to pardon his sins. Coran fought hard for his soul and made a practice out of it. Often times, she would wake when no one else was and go and visit the grave of the Mother. And she habitually returned later in the day to beg for him once more.

It was no surprise to her at all when she saw Aragorn there, kneeling just as she did, praying for his mother's soul most mornings. As she descended down the path to Gilraen, her Chieftain would flee, hiding his face from her. Coran knew the toll his mother's death took on him. She knew he still called out for her in the sleepless nights, his heart broken from the loss. She was not wrenched from him by evil, but by the Curse of Men that only mortals shared. Tragically, she died well before her time.

Her chieftain, however, never knew why she went to his mother's memorial to pray. Unbeknownst to him, Gilraen had been her patient while Coran was still in training. It was then, she learned of her aunt and her story. There were only two people who loved her more than Coran and those were her husband and her son. Coran sobbed for days when the Mother died, taking with her a little piece of hope for the Dúnedain.

Gilraen had told her of how her son must be king. It had been her that urged Coran to ensure his position and push him to his fate. And it was Coran who held her hand as she slipped into Death's Embrace and promised her that she would do whatever it took to make him king.

As she read over the root remedies tome she held as she basked in the moonlight, Coran just remembered the feeling of knowing she could not help Gilraen as she slowly perished. She had screamed and begged Eru for mercy, to allow Gilraen to live a little bit longer, at least until Aragorn was able to come and stay by her side. She had broken down, collapsing at her bedside as the woman slept, knowing she could do nothing to stop her from dying. The day when she told Gilraen of her fate, the woman said "I have given the world hope. My own, you will give the world hope one day as well. My parents, blessed with the foresight, saw that one of my own would do as such. They foresaw Aragorn and so it will come true. Blessed be your path for Eru has smiled upon you. Do not forget this. Do not forget the Light of Hope. You must always bring hope, no matter what. I trust you to do this."

It hurt her so much to know that she would never be able to live up to Gilraen's expectation, regardless of her efforts. She tried to keep a smile and she tried to heal as many as she could. But for the life of her, she found that her ability to spread hope was lacking. She never felt like she had ever given hope to anyone ever. And it pained her to kneel before Gilraen each morning to confess to the woman that she had failed in both of her tasks set forth by the woman.

She hated to admit her actions to anyone, especially to herself, but she had been searching for eleven years for a cure for the cause of Gilraen's death. She had never told Aragorn of her findings, nor requested any information from him about their family's health. She felt that in Elrond's endless library that there must be an answer somewhere in some book. She did not wish to go to the Lord Elrond for his help as she was fearful he would tell Aragorn of her deviations. However, the time was growing short and she knew that she would maybe never have access to as many books at another time. So, in the quiet hours of the evening, she closed her book and began winding her way to Elrond's study.

She did not mind the lullabies being sung over the valley by the elves as much of nature began to sleep. As the night deepened, a wind blew across the valley, whistling through the trees. It brought the cold air, signaling the change into winter. Drawing her fur cloak about her, she shuddered against its cold breath, trying to shield her lantern from it as well.

From the gardens, Elrond's study was far into the main building, located on the highest floor. She had to cross paths with those coming back from the Hall of Fire to their beds, drunken and sober alike. She enjoyed the whispering company that crowded the halls as she ascended, holding onto the feeling that reminded her a lot of her home. There were times which she felt that the companionship and the feeling of belonging would never come to her again after she left her home for the Shire. Great the people of the Shire were, but they would never be able to show her the same love her own people could. So on late and chilly nights like these, where all hosts of races dined and drank and danced and sang together, she felt at home.

As she neared the top of the steps, those returning to bed dwindled, yet she could feel eyes on her. Each pair watched and waited, following her steps with gentle and agile movements. Right as she was about to knock and before she was able to begin waiting for her admittance into the Lord's study, one of the elves came to her, silent as the night. He pressed a cool blade against her neck, nicking the soft flesh there as he shifted slightly in stance. "Why have you come?" his flowing Sindarin came out warningly and dangerous.

"I must speak with the Lord Elrond," she whispered calmly, stilling her fears. She would not let this faze her, nor persuade her from her task.

"He is not in the mood to receive visitors. Leave." The knife pressed closer and she could feel his eyes narrowing.

She turned slightly in his grasp to look at the elf that held her. "This is of great importance. I must speak with him."

Upon seeing she would not give up, he nodded to another that hid in the shadows to go ask the Lord himself permission for her to enter. The blade never left her neck nor did his hands leave her body. They waited in silence for the elf to reemerge, awaiting the Lord's orders. Coran heaved a sigh of relief as the one that was sent came out and said, "He has granted permission, mortal."

Just as quickly as they were on her, they disappeared. Pushing the recent events from her mind, she took a step forward, gaining confidence with each step as she came inside the door. The Lord Elrond was staring at a fire, whispering in hushed tones to a hooded figure that sat in the closest chair to the hearth. As she came into the firelight, Elrond welcomed her with a nod before announcing her presence to the figure. "The Lady Coran, wife of Feredir, daughter of Coran the First and cousin to the true heir, has arrived."

As the figure stood and dropped its hood to its shoulders, Coran's heart dropped. She was not expecting this at all. Immediately, she dropped to her knees, kneeling before the person with her head bowed in respect.

"Rise, child." The person extended a hand to help her up before pulling her into a fierce hug.

Coran sank into the embrace, sighing and uttering a single word, "Mother."

"My lovely daughter, I trust I find you in good health." Taking the nod of affirmation from Coran, she continued. "I have come to pay my respects to Feredir and to the Lady Gilraen and also to speak with our Chieftain. There is something I must discuss with him." Wearily, she sat back in the chair by the fire. "I tire easily with travelling. Please forgive my need to sleep. Lord Elrond, would you mind my request to be dismissed?"

"No, my Lady Eryniel, you are dismissed. One of my own will escort you to your room." One of Elrond's guards took her mother away and then as the door shut, Elrond resumed conversation. "I am not unhappy that you are here, but why have you come to visit so late?" He offered her some of the tea that sat upon the end table to her right. She rejected it as she took the seat that her mother had just been resting in.

"I need to request permission." She took his silence as consent to carry on. "I have been obsessed with something for many a year, going on eleven years. As you may know, I was the bed nurse of the late Lady Gilraen. It is the illness that has plagued my mind for these years past. There is no known cure that I have found, but I figured that your library must have an answer."

Elrond sighed as he took a seat. It was not uncommon for her dedication to startle him. She kept reminding him of the unending drive that Mankind had. She was always searching for answers, in her studies and in life. It made him yearn for knowledge with a hungry heart just as he had in his early years. Seeing such youth in his house gave him a warm feeling and reminded him of his own children's early days as well as Aragorn's. As much as he would like to indulge her every whim, he knew that the night, especially this night, would be better spent asleep. "Coran, can this not be saved for tomorrow?"

As if she had never considered that to be a possibility, she thought for a second. "It just came to me. I apologize. I suppose we can talk about this in the morn. But, I stress, I need absolute privacy in this matter. Aragorn must not discover this." She drew her cloak about her as she readied to leave.

Elrond stood as well, taking her in his arms as he led her to the door. "You have my word. As you are here now, I will impart this onto you. With the arrival of your mother, we will have to limit your studies with many of your teachers, myself included. The meetings that will occur cannot be commandeered like the last one. These are truly meetings in which you do not belong, so I implore you, do not try to intervene. You will be stopped. Heed these words; this is of great import."

Before the door, she curtsied low. Rising, she looked him directly in his eyes, swearing an oath. "I understand, my lord. I will not intervene." From there, she took her leave and weaved her way back to her rooms.

Having her mother appear was troublesome. Lady Eryniel was the Matron of their clan at the moment, which meant she ruled with the other elected elders of their clan while Aragorn was away. The fact she was in Imladris at this time meant something more than paying her respects. It was something big. And although she had promised to stay away, one way or another she would find out what would be going on in those secret meetings. First, she would have to figure out who would be attending. Her own mother and Elrond would be completely tight lipped, but other members of the meeting may not be. She would just have to play her cards right.

As she went back to her rooms, she passed by a dimly lit room that she had not thought there were occupants living in it. She caught of glimpse of blonde hair and green clothing. Curious, she stood in the door frame, knocking. The wood elf turned, his stance tense. "Lady Coran."

"Prince Legolas, what has you so flustered this night?" He was clearly fretting; his pacing and facial twitches indicated that.

"It's nothing. Nothing a mortal can solve." He shook his head, probably ridding dark thoughts from it. At her frown, he cleared his throat, trying to be more sensitive to her mortal condition. "Many of us are meeting in the morn and the following days. It has to do a great deal with my people and with your people. It is about certain happenings in the Mirkwood and in the North." He did not think she would be staying long so he did not offer her a seat or any refreshments.

"Can I help with anything?" Not that she wasn't generally concerned and wished to help, but he could be her ticket to learn why her mother was here; this was purely motive.

"No, for I must face this problem alone. If you were not invited to these meetings, I cannot discuss this with you. Please," he turned his back to her, clearing dismissing her. "have a good sleep."

Scowling, she left, not bothering to try to persuade him to be in her favor. He was always estranged to her; well, to most people. He seemed to be good friends with her Chieftain, but when anyone other than Aragorn tried to carry a meaningful conversation with the elf, they were shut out. His behavior worried her in context with her mother's arrival.

Could this be about her father? Coran I was stationed in Mirkwood. Did they know something she didn't? Ever since her first day of training with Telthedir, she felt as if everyone was keeping a secret from her. In certain conversations, even the Hobbits would look away as to dismiss the conversation. She found that her only confidant, Goldor, had even been avoiding some topics. It grew tiring so more and more often she would not join in fellowship, but would go out and read or do something on her own.

As she prepared for bed, she found she could no longer hear the haunting elvish lullabies. Something stirred within her. Throwing her fur cloak over her shoulders again and pulling it tight against her, she wandered to her window edge. There she looked up to the moon, the wind blowing her hair from its binding. From her lips slipped the first verse of the Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel. It was carried on the wind, a single eerie melody.

Somewhere the harmony was picked up by another voice. It was her mother. Soon the valley was filled with the voices of Dúnedain and elves alike. She knew not that most beings were still awake that night and it was her voice they were listening to. She even dared to wonder if they knew it was her who sang. Soon, she was lost in the myriad of voices, just like she was lost to so many secrets. Long after she started the song lingered, never diming. She fell asleep to the music, exhausted by her own thoughts.