Chapter Four: The Feast and The Journey Begins

After the Council was dismissed, Whisper headed toward her room, intent on packing her things and sharpening her weapons. She was halfway down the corridor when Elrond called her back.

"Walk with me, my child," he told her, and together they began down the steps, heading to the garden paths.

"Is there anything on your mind, My Lord?" she asked, her hands folded respectfully in front of her.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "How are your travels?" He didn't look at her, only stared at the magnificent floral around them.

"Fine, My Lord," she replied. They walked in silence for a long while. Whisper was becoming suspicious. "What is it that you wanted, Lord Elrond?"

He glanced at her as if he was annoyed at her question. He sighed. "There is no deceiving you, is there, Iliana?" he asked, using her given name. It made her even more warry. "I have a question that requires the utmost secrecy from you. Do I have your word?" His eyes pierced hers, demanding an answer.

"Yes, My Lord," she said, halting in her tracks.

There was a long pause as Elrond stared at the leaves in their path. Iliana was afraid he wouldn't answer, when he finally spoke. "Do you have any feelings toward Aragorn?"

She took a step back, thoroughly shocked. She stared at him incredulously. "Feelings for Aragorn?" she repeated. "Only that of a sister for an older brother, a student for a mentor, and that of a beloved, and loyal, friend." Her emerald eyes narrowed, trying to read his expression as he sighed once again.

"Very well," he said as he began walking again, leaving Iliana standing there.

"What…on Earth…?" she thought, moving back along the path that she and Elrond had just walked. "Why would he ask me something like that?" She brushed her hair out of her face, lost in deep thought, letting her feet carry her back to her own room.

It was just past duck when Iliana made her way to the dining hall, now in a gown made of crushed gold velvet. It complemented her hair, which was done in bouncing curls held back with a gold satin ribbon.

Many Elves passed her as she made her way, occasionally greeting her, "Suilaid, Iliana." She gave them small smiles, which was more than they expected. As she walked into the hall. She stopped. Her seat was beside that arrogant Gondorian. A dull anger bubbled inside her as she sat beside him, thoroughly intent on ignoring him.

Lord Elrond then stood, his arms open, his blue-gray velvet robes spreading wide. "Elen sila lumen omentielvo," he said, his eyes travelling to everyone…but Iliana. When he continued speaking, he reverted to the Common Language. "Welcome to my home, distant friends." A few Men and Dwarves clapped, the Elves only nodding their elegant heads. "Let us enjoy the feast, but first, I shall introduce you to the Fellowship which shall destroy the Ring."

He turned to his left (for his daughter, Arwen, sat on his right). "Gandalf, wizard and advisor." The old wizard stood, his old, gray robes completely out of coordination with the others' attire. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He, too, stood as Gandalf sat back down. He was wearing robes of deep crimson trimmed in gold and black. He returned to his seat, his blue-gray eyes finding Arwen's. "Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood." The fair-haired Elf stood lightly, his customary smile shining as his light cobalt eyes darted to a few individuals before he returned to his seat. "Gimli, son of Gloin, of Erebor." The stocky Dwarf stood as his kinsmen applauded him. He grinned beneath his bushy beard and plopped back in his seat. "Boromir, son of Denethor, of Gondor." The Man next to Iliana stood, nodding, and sat back down. "Iliana of Rivendell," Elrond said, shocking her. She never knew he considered her to belong here in Rivendell. She stood, giving a weak grin, and sat down, staring in her lap. "Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire." The two Hobbits stood, barely reaching the height of a sitting Man. "Samwise Gamgee, also of the Shire." Sam stood, his round face crimson from the attention. "And finally, our Ring Bearer, Frodo Baggins of the Shire." As Frodo stood, the entire room erupted in applause, startling the Hobbit.

"And now that introductions are taken care of," Elrond said once the clapping has subsided, "let us enjoy dinner."

With that, he sat down, and hundreds of trays were brought out, piled high with food. Very few trays held meats since the Elves didn't eat it. The others were heaped with fruits, cheeses, breads, edible flowers. Goblets were filled with fine Elven wine and spiced Meade. Conversation flowed easily, as if nothing evil could possibly happen.

Iliana ate quietly, marveling at how much the Hobbits could consume, despite their size. Iliana dipped a corner of a luscious strawberry into some sweetened cream and popped the fruit into her mouth, savoring the sweet tang of the juice and cream. She laughed as Merry and Pippin's antics became ever more exaggerated with each goblet of wine they drained.

"My lady?"

Shocked, Iliana turned to her right to face Boromir, the arrogant Gondorian. His glue-gray eyes stared into her emerald ones as he slowly spoke. "I wish to…apologize for my behavior at the council," he said, leaning forward as to not be overheard.

Iliana relaxed slightly, beginning to forgive him.

"I was out of line with what I said about you," Boromir continued, picking up his goblet. "Had I known you were a representative of Elrond and Rivendell, I would have never spoken to you in such a manner."

Iliana's mouth fell slightly. He was apologizing, not for his insults toward her and Aragorn for being Rangers, but for assuming she was nothing more than a mere woman who had gained Elrond's favor. Her eyes suddenly blazed with fire as she gave him a glare. "And what of Aragorn?" she demanded quietly so not to cause alarm. "Have you apologized to him?"

Boromir nervously sucked at a small cut on his finger, choosing his words. "Why should I apologize to a Ranger of a long-dead House?" he asked, taking a long draught of his Meade.

Iliana bit her lip to hold back the spiteful retort that she ached to shout at him. "Dol lost lin," she muttered, glowering at him. "He is the son of Arathorn, and therefore is the rightful king of Gondor! Just because he is a Ranger means nothing." She shook her head, intent on ending the conversation there.

"He has no claim to my father's throne," Boromir snapped at her. "He has abandoned his title and our people!"

Iliana's head whipped back around, and she noticed both Arwen and Elrond glancing down at them, despite that their conversation was quiet. "You know nothing of his life, you stupid Man!" she growled. He started to say something when she stood. Standing on the other side of her chair, she bent down and looked Boromir dead in the face. "Ti tallbe Orck." She hissed before she whipped around, her hair flying, and left the hall.

Once she had left the occupied corridors, she broke into a run, her hair and skirts flying behind her. Tears of anger were streaming from her eyes as she descended the stairs and darted toward the massive trees. "Why am I crying?" she thought, slowing to a walk. She brushed her tears off one cheek furiously, ashamed that she let a Man like Boromir reduce her to weeping. "It's because I'm angry," she told herself as she sat beneath her tree, the great oak she had dedicated to her family almost twenty years ago, shortly after she arrived in Rivendell. She always visited it, especially when she was upset; it was her special place.

She rested the side of her head against the tree's soft bark, pulling her knees to her chest. She turned her thoughts from Boromir to her family. She couldn't remember her mother or her father, but she could just barely recall her older brother, Illanir. He was three years older than Iliana and was her best friend. She could recall that all her family, even her mother's and father's family, all had dark hair and eyes, whereas she had golden-red hair and emerald eyes.

But that's all she could remember. Hot tears burned the back of her throat as she gazed toward the treetops. "Why can't I remember?" she whispered, hitting her knee in frustration. "Why can't I see their faces?"

She folded her arms across her knees and buried her face weeping softly. Her shoulders trembled with her sobs, and the treetops shifted with the sudden wind. Raindrops started falling as Iliana began to sing, her voice low.

"Dancing bears, painting wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December…"

As her song continued, the rain fell heavier, blanketing the area with miniscule rivers.

"My lady?" asked a low voice, and Iliana looked up and saw Boromir peering around a tree, a worried expression on his face, his hair soaking wet; it was obvious he had been there for a while.

"What do you want?" Iliana demanded as lightning flashed. She stood, her gown soaked and heavy.

"To apologize," he said, bowing his head. "Again."

"For what?" she asked, moving past him.

"Making you weep," he said, catching hold of her arm.

She looked at his hand on her arm, her emerald almost glowing. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, they locked onto his. She jerked her arm away from his grasp as lightning struck overhead. "Once again, you ignorant Man," she spat out, furiously, "you know nothing! Why would I weep because of you?!" He backed up a few steps as she advanced towards him. "Assuming things only makes you a bigger fool that you already are, Gondorian."

With that, she turned and raced back to her room, both her gown and hair still sopping wet, leaving a trail of water drops behind her.

The next evening, the Fellowship was preparing to depart. The Hobbits, except for Frodo, were shifting nervously on their over-large feet. Legolas gazed at the trees and the darkening sky. Gimli was busy grumbling as he adjusted his many axes. Gandalf, Aragorn, and Boromir were in a deep conversation with Lord Elrond. Boromir occasionally glanced at Iliana, who completely ignored him as she tightened the laces on her vest.

She withheld the yawn that tore at her throat; she had gotten very little sleep the night before. She had been plagued with nightmares from her childhood, dreams she had thought she'd buried. Stifling another yawn, she began to adjust the bracers on her wrists, comforted by the quiver of arrows and bow on her back, the twin long-knives strapped to her calves, and the sword at her hip; they were her familiar friends. Never had they failed her.

So, lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Gandalf moving to stand beside Frodo, the little Hobbit looking up at the tall wizard.

"It is time," Gandalf said in a somber voice.

Iliana glanced back at the castle of Rivendell, and her heart ached for some reason. She saw Arwen give Aragorn a long look, a soft smile on her beautiful face. She turned away, letting them have their last private moment for a long time to come. As she turned, Boromir caught her eye, his gray eyes seeking her own. His brow was furrowed as he stared, as if he was frustrated or confused.

Slowly, the party began their long journey, not knowing what lies ahead.

Author's Note:

Happy Friday, everyone! Another chapter, and the beginning of the journey! I hope you enjoy this one. Please leave a review and let me know any comments you have. Thank you for sticking with me!

"Suilaid" means "Greetings"

"Elen sila lumen omentielvo" means "A star shines on the hour of our meeting"

"Dol lost lin" means "Your head is empty"

"Ti tallbe Orck" means "Go kiss an Orc"