Title: Faril Nin [My Huntress]
Author: Codi Lyn { iluvobiwan91
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 – R (for descriptive battle scene/wounds)
Pairing: Orophin/OFC [Gwaeron]
Timeline: Begins before the Fellowship enters Lorien in Third Age 3018… concludes during Fourth Age 250
Chapter: 6/13
Chapter Summary: Orophin could make out the shadows that remembered past horrors. Glimpses of battle, of flight without hope for escape, of death, of love lost… and he knew. "I will go."
Author's Note: I don't know quite what season it is when the Fellowship are in Lorien, and so there are a few changes in time-flow versus how things played out in the movies. Follows movie-verse, but I make a few references to things that happened in the books. But little things like these I have the license to play with, as the author. J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson have rights to the important stuff, this story is written purely for pleasure.
Chapter SixGwaeron felt life returning to her bones enough in the next month that she devoted all her time away from Véredhiel to the running, riding, and training that gave her back the look of ranger. The woman's appetite returned, to Anauriel's relief, and soon restored the healthy curves to her waist and legs and a hearty blush to her cheeks. The visions ceased in the night and one could enter the talan at evening's noon to find mortal mother and immortal child curled up in linens belonging to Orophin, both soothed and brought to peace with his scent foreshadowing his presence. Filled with hope and conviction, Gwaeron now eagerly waited for her beloved's return, determined to heal the wounds she had inflicted upon him and repent of the wrongs that had scourged them both.
It was early, just after the sun had begun to peer through Lórien's canopy, that the lady ranger walked quietly past her sleeping daughter and into the kitchen where Anauriel was already brewing tea for them. Gwaeron's hands were occupied with the task of trying to weave her curls into the submission of a braid as she sat at the table across from her friend, sharing a 'good morning' smile. After taking a drink of steaming serenity Ana inquired of the woman. "You're dressed in your warrior's garb, where are you off to?"
"Meldiriel and some others asked me to join their sparring this morning." Her answer was given as she tied off the knot at the nape of her neck and then reached for the sword called for her care as she rested it in her lap. "Véredhiel may be another hour or so asleep before needing her bottle, will you be all right to stay with her until I return?"
Smiling, the elleth nodded. "Of course. Perhaps after a while I will bring her down to the fields so that we can both watch you train." Gwaeron could not hide the mirth in her eyes as she glanced to her friend. The look brought a mock-indignant expression to Ana's face, but a blush all the same. "If Rúmil happens to be training as well, then I cannot help the galadhrim my eyes choose to follow." Both ladies giggled softly at the pitiful attempt at justification and sipped at their breakfast until Gwaeron had finished tending her weapons and laced up her boots to depart.
Sweat dripped heavily from her brow to eventually land in the kicked dust of a sparring court. Gwaeron's breathing was ragged after a mere twenty minutes in the ring with a quite agile elf, and she couldn't help but feel rather age the way this centuries-old lad was besting her. His name was Daugion, 'of the army,' and it took little time to understand why the title fit. He drilled the ranger with moves and combinations that she had either grown lax in practicing, or that were entirely new, and it took all her speed to move out of his long reach. The unfortunate fact was that their spar had put her entirely on the defensive, and often necessitated her retreat.
"Come now, ranger. I've seen you fight before, should I not be learning from you?" Her galadhrim opponent goaded, fueling the frustration Gwaeron turned at herself and sparking the fire that beckoned her to attack. Lunging with a thrust, she watched him twist easily out of the way and adjusted her steps accordingly, narrowly missing his waist with her blade. Daugion arched an eyebrow at the change in her and then began to change his own tactics, not wishing her anticipate what he would do next.
Throwing herself into each move, Gwaeron blocked and cut aggressively, earning a nick here and a bruise there which she took pride in knowing had been a struggle for him to make. The weight of his strikes hardened to match hers and when their swords clashed together it shook her stance with the vibrations of singing metal. With arms twisting in a swift and complicated maneuver, Gwaeron suddenly had the elf's sword trapped flat between her hilt and chest and kicked out forcefully, landing him on his back without a weapon. Daugion made to throw his weight and regain fighting stance when she quickly cast his sword aside and leapt to tackle him back down, her knees pinning his shoulders to the dirt below and the shaft of her sword laying coolly against his throat.
"Surely you realize there's not enough weight in you to keep me down…" His hands grasped her thighs, ready to throw her off until another blade was pulled from behind her and aimed atop his heart.
"The weight of my blade is not enough for you, then?" The dagger poised at his chest pricked its tip through his tunic and threatened the firm muscle beneath. "Is this not where you yield?" A hard look and silence were all she received in answer. Letting the amusement in her eyes absorb his disgruntlement, Gwaeron sheathed the knife and stood to remove herself from him, putting away also her sword before inspecting the few tears he'd left in her clothing.
"Well done, lass! Daugion does not get enough challenge from us, sometimes." Meldiriel trotted up to her with a smirk and playful push on her arm.
"I think the challenge was given more to me. But I need this sort of exercise, it's been long enough now, I've gotten soft."
"It's just good to see you with us, again, Gwaeron. We couldn't help but worry when… Things changed." The elleth was uncertain how to mention the woman's former grief, but soon reassured.
"Thank you, it's good to feel myself again. Seeing my brother helped many things, and I'm sorry if I kept Legolas from you while they were here…"
A pleasant blush spread over the lady galadhrim's face. "No, I am glad he was able to bring you comfort. He did not leave me wanting for affection." They shared a knowing smile before the ranger's attention was drawn to Tar's barking and the sound of her daughter's playful voice. Anauriel stood close with Rúmil as he encouraged the great hound to jump up with paws on his shoulders and scratched on his coat, enthralling the elfling who looked on safe in Ana's arms. It was a sweet setting they made, and Gwaeron longed for the moments she and Orophin could make such a picture.
Turning back to Meldiriel, she raised her brows puckishly and tilted her head. "When shall the Prince of Greenwood make an offer for your hand, do you think? He has courted you long enough for elven years."
The elleth's smile was tight, seeking to display mirth, but not quite reaching it. "When my Greenleaf agrees to live among the gold leaves of Lothlorien." Her words gave Gwaeron pause and looked at her silently in question. "I cannot leave my home, nor my Lady, Gwaeron. It is where I was born, where I have always been. Thranduil's halls stifle me, though they house his son whom I love, and the forests there have grown dark and men do rightly name it Mirkwood now."
"Legolas would never keep you where you do not feel your heart to belong…"
"I know, and he has told me as much. I do love him, and one day we will be bound, if it is the will of the Valar. The sea does not yet call to him, and has not called to me… perhaps we will remain in Arda together."
Talk of the elves' future tasted bittersweet in her mouth, but the ranger touched Meldiriel with meaning and smiled encouragingly. "If it is so, then our children will play together in the woods and fields of these lands while we watch on and laugh." Brightening at such a thought the galadhrim nodded, grinning in all her radiance.
"Will you join our hunting party tomorrow, lady ranger?" Approached by a humble Daugion, Gwaeron glanced over to her daughter before making answer to his offer.
"Don't worry about the little one, Gwaeron! Ana and I can watch over her for you." Rúmil happily supplied from where he stood with the elleth and babe a few paces away. Laughing, her answer was given and she mingled amongst the galadhrim naturally as they discussed setting their departure before dawn on the next day.
Orophin sat perched high in a tree on the western border of the realm, invisible to man and elf behind long branches and boughs fleshed with leaves to cover him. Across a distance, he could spy another of his galadhrim and heard his subtle call to confirm there were no disturbances at the edge of Lórien. He tried to calm his mind, to let the sounds of his forest speak to him through the rustling of morning birds and gentle blowing through trees as old as he was, but the face of one woman gave no rest to his thoughts.
With ears still trained on his watch, it was only a moment before Orophin recognized the foreign sound of approaching hooves in contrast to the woodland's typical silence. Shifting his focus back to the task at hand, the elf descried the familiar sight of a pure white steed galloping through the trees directly toward the city and murmured with a smirk. "Imladris." Signaling for his counterpart to remain up-tree, Orophin climbed and leapt down effortlessly from his roost and stood directly in the on-comer's path, appearing as though a looming sprite or shadow of the forest in his galadhrim panoply.
Sitting back to steady his spirited horse, the rider held a hand up in greeting and dismounted the elegant creature when it calmed its prancing. "Well met, Orophin." The lord that approached him held the same resonance in his voice as the Lady of Lórien, their eyes related in their witnessing the ages of old.
"My lord Glorfindel, your journey was swift. What word do you bring from the House of Peredhil?" The warden's welcome was to the point, shorter than what they had been accustomed to over past centuries, but the noble elf seemed to echo his abruptness with a tone of exigency.
"I bring urgent tidings from lord Elrond that must be brought to your lord and lady at once."
"Then come. Give your steed half a rest while we fetch my own horse, and I shall bring you to them." Leading the warrior elf down one of the invisible paths of the galadhrim, Orophin glanced back to see Glorfindel gathering the reins and following closely with his animal at a walk. "Messages from Imladris are not often your duty to bear. What news is it that must come from your lips and not the correspondence your lord holds with my lady?" There were no qualms felt for probing such details. Orophin learned long ago and fully understood he ranked high enough among the guard of his liege to hear such reports from the source.
Glorfindel knew this, but was at an age of wisdom, also, that did not concern him to judge critically with whom he spoke when his words were truth. "It will be known soon enough to the whole of the galadhrim." Though bright in form, the countenance of the aged warrior darkened with the words he prepared to speak. "The Istari… Saruman the White." The title was nearly spat out in contempt. "Holds no longer the honor of ally among the free peoples. That wizard has been drawn into service of the Dark Lord and has bred an army from Isengard that now makes its way to where Theoden king seeks to protect his people at Helm's Deep. It is my task to advise lord Celeborn that he send a number of your elves to aid these Second Born." Gravity pulled his speech to a momentary pause, and the two elves shared a look that reflected it. "Without aid, Orophin, those people will fall to slaughter. It will affect the future Men should Rohan be taken."
The meaning of such statements were made all the more significant by the weight of experience in Glorfindel's gaze. Through it, Orophin could make out the shadows that remembered past horrors. Glimpses of battle, of flight without hope for escape, of death, of love lost… and he knew. "I will go."
Such conviction was not hidden from his mistress when Orophin stood among the consulting lords and lady. While her husband discussed details with Glorfindel and Haldir, Galadriel glanced subtly to her silent galadhrim warden at the entrance of the natural room and knew, with no need of her especial senses, what Orophin would do. Unable to protect Gwaeron from the intangible foe that he believed assailed her, he would go to fight the enemy that assailed these people, at whatever cost. It was this fact that worried the queen of Lórien.
With orders to muster the galadhrim by the sun's setting and make ready for the journey to battle, the Marchwarden and his brother exited the chamber and set out to do as their liege instructed. A soft call in his thoughts beckoned the younger elf to halt his determined stride and turn to see his Lady standing up the stairs with her eyes upon him. "A moment, Orophin." The graceful wisdom in her voice brought him to stand obediently before her, waiting for whatever task or words she had to give him.
"My lady, should I not be preparing…" His obedience was not, however, without its query.
Galadriel smiled indulgently, but shook her head to answer him. "Have you seen your huntress of late?" She could feel how his countenance fell at the mention of their endearment.
With eyes dropped to his feet, anywhere but his Lady's gaze, Orophin answered. "No, my lady. I have been defending your borders and unable to inquire after her since my return this morning." The silence he received after his vague response evoked a fuller response and, breathing deeply as if in pain, he spoke again. "Last I saw her, she was curled weakly in Aragorn's arms. It was at my talan… she would not look at me." The last words made his heart clench within him and the warden turned away as if to prevent his Lady from seeing the organ falter in his chest.
"Do not misinterpret this woman, Orophin. Gwaeron is young and full of love, two reasons that have encouraged this confusion tangled inside her. She was caught in an ocean's wave, seeking the shore but swimming away in the tumult."
Orophin pinched his brow as he listened patiently to her, then a key turned to unlock something she had said and he turned his head quickly. "Was?" Facing her fully now, the strength seemed to return to his posture and he prompted. "Tell me." When his queen said nothing Orophin took the few strides to close the distance between them, drawing near enough to reveal the fragile hope building in his care-worn eyes. "Tell me."
A hoarse breath begged her in the guise of her warden's voice and Galadriel lifted her warm hand to his cheek with a gentle smile. "Gwaeron has cleared the salt from her eyes to find her sky is up, her earth down, and her heart most assuredly with you." With each word Orophin's heart swelled and his hopeful prayers were answered, returning amidst tears the vibrant blue that his eyes had once been. Taking his lady's hand to kiss the knuckles devotedly, the elf bowed his thanks and with one more look of gratitude fled down the stairway.
Long legs filled with renewed energy carried him at a sprint down the mallorn and through Caras Galadhon toward his talan. She was back. It was his Gwaeron again. The locked-away desire to take her in his arms had now been given freedom and allowed permission, and his body sprang to life for it. "Gwaeron!" Without realizing it, or caring, his voice called out for her in the gloom of a clouded midday. No longer did that veil over the sun mirror the dark clouds over his hope.
He flew up the steps of his home and burst through the open entry, the name of his huntress on his lips and his eyes darting through every room to find her. Halting suddenly in the bedroom, he found Anauriel sitting to play with a well-pleased Véredhiel in her lap. The elleth started at his arrival, but soon smiled when surprise faded away. "Orophin! You're back…"
"Where is Gwaeron?" Quickly, but without bite, he cut her off in his need.
"She has gone hunting with some of the galadhrim who spar with her, they left before dawn."
His face fell a little, then further when he remembered his departure for Rohan that night. "Where have they gone?"
The elleth was apologetic for her ignorance, telling him she had only trusted to their return and not thought of the particulars of direction or distance. Some of the weight returned to Orophin's chest, though not as heavy as before, and his gaze came to rest upon the babe sitting upright in his friend's lap. Véredhiel. Warmth spread easily through him at the sight of the growing child and he stepped toward her. With matching blue eyes, she watched him draw close and smiled a toothless infant's smile as she reached up to be held. "Véredhiel." He murmured softly as the elfling fit perfectly in his arms, laying her head for a few moments on his chest before finding his braids to tempting for little fingers to resist. The elf pressed his lips to her temple and whispered sweet elvish words the child could not yet understand. How strong he felt, holding his daughter again like this.
Reluctant to interrupt such a moment, Anauriel could not keep herself from asking just what was going on. "Why have you returned, Orophin? Your coming was not looked for or else Gwaeron…" The galadhrim turned to her expectantly. "She would have been here to meet you, had she known."
With a nod, Orophin's eyes unfocused and he smiled gently, remembering his joyful revelation. "I know." Seeing her eyebrows gain height in surprise, he affirmed it again. "I know. I came to see her, to speak with her before I depart."
The elleth's face fell. "Depart?"
Grimly nodding once more, he explained the situation and why they were to muster arms and galadhrim to the call. "The people of Rohan are in desperate need, we cannot linger beyond dawn."
Anauriel tensed at the mention of soon-coming battle, remembering with panic the description Rúmil had given of Gwaeron's dreams. Orophin could not die in battle, not now that his beloved's heart was returned to him, not when things were poised to restore their happiness together. Standing, she put an urgent hand on the elf's arm and entreated him. "Orophin you must come to her. Tonight. Before you depart, you must. Please don't leave until you have spoken with her."
Surprised by such a reaction in the elleth, Orophin assured her with a slight nod and turned his eyes away in thought, holding the child closer and pressing his lips to her small fingers. "I will come." A grim resolve set in his movements, he almost painfully relinquished Véredhiel back to Ana's arms and touched her once more before leaving the flat.
With a soft whine, Véredhiel reached for the retreating form of her father and put a fuss until Anauriel gently bounced the baby on her hip. "Hush now, Véredhiel… You will see him again."