I greatly appreciate all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! Thank you so much! I hope you have a wonderful day.
Disclaimer: I do not claim or own any of the characters of the world of The Lord of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Rodaìn opened her eyes to the beckoning calls of birds. Her room was dark in the early dawn. Her body felt refreshed with a dreamless rest. She closed her eyes again and enjoyed the stillness, her mind floating peacefully in the quiet morning hours.
Sometime later, a woman preceded by a soft knock entered the room. Sensing Rodaìn's current tranquility, the woman changed her bandages and looked after Rodaìn's health without exchanging words. Silence was not to be shattered by petty conversations. The woman-a nursemaid-left a lamp burning in Rodaìn's room and exited as noiselessly as she entered.
With no reading materials and little else to keep her occupied, Rodaìn's eyes proceeded to watch the flame of the lamp. It flickered in a way that told its own story: up and down, side to side, eating oxygen to stay alive. The birds provided the music to the scene-setting the stage with a light and playful chorus.
The performance of the flame shifted suddenly to the left as a gust of wind blew through the room as the door was opened. A young girl set a small breakfast on the bedside table. Rodaìn blushed in thanks. The girl left silently.
Mesmerized by the flame again, Rodaìn now nibbled on a piece of bread. However, her stomach quickly realized it was near-empty. Rodaìn hastily consumed the bread and the remaining nourishment on the plate and quenched her thirst with the provided water.
Despite the few interruptions, Rodaìn's placid mien was largely undisturbed and she closed her eyes once more, relaxed.
As the sun climbed to its peak in the sky, Rodaìn began to grow restless. Luckily, a knock on the door sounded. Rodaìn cleared her throat, and called for those outside to enter. Aragorn was first. He looked slightly more at ease than usual with a tender-hearted smile on his face. He had undertaken many responsibilities within the fellowship, which added stress to the already grueling circumstances. She was glad that he was able to take some respite here. Rodaìn had expected Gimli and Legolas to be trailing Aragorn, but neither proceeded into the room.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, Aragorn greeted her with a kind "Good afternoon."
"Thank you. And to you as well," Rodaìn managed with a smile.
"How are you fairing?" Aragorn's eyes instinctively scanned her figure in the bed. He sensed that her healing was progressing well. His hand reached out to clasp one of Rodaìn's in both a gesture of comfort, and to discretely skim his fingers over the self-inflicted wounds she had incurred during her panic attack the previous day. Aragorn felt no scabbing, meaning the wounds had not drawn blood, to which he was grateful. "Are you resting well?" he asked.
"I feel a lot less pain, so I think the healing is progressing smoothly. Thank you for asking, my lord. The sounds of Rohan are calming," Rodaìn replied, glancing out the window. Though Aragorn noticed she had evaded his second question, he allowed it to be ignored for the moment.
"That is good to hear," his smile widened. "There is much news that you have yet to hear, Lady Rodaìn. Do you feel able enough to listen? It is not all good news, I fear," Aragorn warned.
Eager to be provided with a task, Rodaìn nodded her head. Nevertheless, the forewarning of negative news ripped apart the blanket of calm that had settled over her. Anxiety began slithering its way up her body like a snake. Rodaìn readjusted herself in the bed, attempting to loosen the snake's grip.
"Very well. Though the journey through Fangorn Forest to Rohan was filled with blackness for you, we happened upon a shock of whiteness. Not a full day after you had lost consciousness, we came upon Gandalf, one of our former traveling companions whom we thought had passed on, in the forest. However, we did not initially recognize him; for, he is no longer Gandalf the Gray, but Gandalf the White. He has graciously informed us that the hobbits Merry and Pippin are both safe with the ents." Rodaìn sighed in relief. She had hoped that the bad news did not pertain to her two hobbit friends. Seeing the alleviation on her face, Aragorn felt joy for her. He pressed on to the sour portion of what he had to tell. "Unfortunately, not all is well. After you and the hobbits were taken by the orcs at Amon Hen, our beloved companion Boromir was struck by three arrows and fell. Rodaìn gasped. Boromir had died fighting to protect them? Her mind was overwhelmed with grief. Hold it back, now is not the time for weakness and worry.
Rodaìn swallowed her sorrows and stated, "He-he was a brave man."
"Indeed. That he was. Very much so," Aragorn solemnly agreed.
The atmosphere was tense with mourning and loss. Aragorn's next words did nothing to lighten the atmosphere.
"Lady Rodaìn, would you...like to talk about last night?" Aragorn asked, referencing her panic attack spurred by the seregon flowers presented by Legolas.
Rodaìn's eyes widened. She quickly shook her head and averted his gaze, not trusting any words that may escape her mouth or wanting him to see the fear in her eyes.
Aragorn sighed. "I understand you may be uncomfortable talking about it. Never hesitate to converse with any of the fellowship though, milady. We are all here for you and care for you." Aragorn was not surprised that Rodaìn did not desire to open up, but he simply wanted to learn more about her. Perhaps, through knowing more, he could trust her more. Still, he was growing to care for her. He, as well as the others, felt the need to at least look out for her well being, just as all the members of the fellowship constantly did for each other. "I apologize milday, but would you be opposed to Legolas entering the room and speaking to you? I can stay here if you like."
Rodaìn was intrigued by his question, wondering if Aragorn was implementing some sort of sly tactic, and her distrust was raised slightly. Although the logical portion of her mind told her that Legolas likely knew nothing of the negative association she had with seregon, Rodaìn could not deny that the innocent elf's actions had spurred fear of his character. She surveyed Aragorn's expression. Believing his honesty yet still not wholly at ease, Rodaìn acquiesced.
"I am glad," Aragorn smilled assuringly. "Legolas, the lady has given you permission to enter," Aragorn called to the hallway.
Legolas floated through the door like a ghost. It was a wise decision Rodaìn had not confided anything personal in Aragorn, as Legolas, with his heightened senses, would have undoubtedly listened in. She felt she could say nothing in confidence while the elf was around. The reasons to hold suspicion against this fellowship never seemed to lessen. At Legolas' entrance, Rodaìn shuttered minutely, fighting to harness her fear. Not him, not the same place. I am in Rohan now. With Legolas. He did not know. He was not aware.
Legolas, knowing he had frightened and potentially offended the lady the previous night, kept his muscles relaxed and his facade soft. He wished to comfort her and convince her that he meant no harm, especially to the extent she seemed to expect. Still keeping his distance so as not to overwhelm her, Legolas spoke, "Lady Rodaìn, I offer my deepest and most sincere apologies for frightening and upsetting you the other day. I assure you, I had no intention to do so, and would take back my actions if I could. I was simply attempting to brighten your day, but I see that I have instead destroyed it. I plead your forgiveness for my actions."
Rodaìn was touched by his apology. Legolas had no inkling that the gesture of presenting a bouquet of flowers would send her into a state like that of a frightened animal. It was simply a kind gesture. Rodaìn understood that. She had mulled it over that morning. Her mind was finally convinced that he had not intended harm and that he knew nothing of her association with seregon; his apology only solidified that. Rodaìn was embarrassed that he saw her reaction as his fault; she knew that it was all her own. Stupid girl. You always ruin others. They must think you are so weak. Eager to appease Legolas' uneasiness, Rodaìn replied, "My lord, I accept your apology. Thank you for your sincerity. However, my reaction was not your fault." She did not voice that she blamed herself, as she did for many things. "I know you had no ill intent, and meant it only as a kind offering," she added in reassurance.
Upon hearing this, Legolas relaxed slightly, smiled, and gave his thanks. Aragorn, too, was relieved that Rodaìn had so favorably received Legolas' apology.
"I feel we have brought enough weight on you today, Lady Rodaìn," Aragorn frowned. He knew she was strong of both mind and body, but even the strong could falter under excess burdens. "Perhaps it is time to let you rest in hope of rapid healing."
"Indeed. I wish you a pleasant rest, my lady," Legolas addressed her.
She smiled and nodded her head at both of them, grateful for their care.
"Rest well," Aragorn instructed her, softly shutting the door behind Legolas and himself, leaving Rodaìn in the dark once more to heal.
Healing, however, did not come easy to Rodaìn. At least in the matter of mental healing. Sitting in bed for copious hours alone prompted her mood to steadily sink. She felt caged. She despised the birds she admired the other day. Why couldn't she be free, running again, with no cares and only comfort, support, and love? Her fingers roamed over the grooves her nails had carved into her palms last night. Why couldn't she control her fear and anxiety? Why was she always so weak? A screw-up. Tears began to leak from her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks, and dropped onto her nightgown like scattered paint-drops. No one comforted her while she was crying. No one had since she was a child. Rodaìn missed her mother's encompassing arms. She wondered how many others felt like her-alone and drowning. Her thoughts collided around the recesses of her mind, sinking into deeper and darker territory.
A knock on the door paused Rodaìn's dark thoughts. She rapidly wiped the tears from her eyes before calling for the one outside her door to enter.
"Good evening, my lady. I apologize. Am I disturbing you?" the man said, sticking his torso through the partially opened door.
Had he noticed her dried tears or her red-splotched cheeks? Had he seen her depressed eyes? She hoped against these thoughts. Such appearances did not culminate in a favorable first impression in her view. She could handle herself. Rodaìn replied politely, "No, my lord, please come in."
"Are you sure? I can return at a later time, 'tis no trouble."
"I assure you that you are most welcome at this time, my lord," Rodaìn said, surprised but appreciative of his courtesy. She sat up straighter and pushed her dark thoughts back, deep into her mind once more. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
"Thank you, Lady Rodaìn. Excuse me, I beg your pardon for not introducing myself," the man relayed, approaching Rodaìn's bedside. "I am Lord Deviran of Gondor, a blacksmith, son of Onoreth. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady," the gentleman stated with a bow.
"And you as well, Lord Deviran," Rodaìn replied. Her intrigued eyes hovered on the sac that was propped carefully over his shoulder.
"I see you keep your eyes on the prize, my lady," Deviran chuckled, noticing her gaze.
Rodaìn blushed. "I am sorry, my lord. I get few visitors, so everything new interests me," she said, turning her gaze downward in embarrassment. Nevertheless, her curiosity was still piqued.
Deviran titled his head back, his shoulder-length chestnut hair falling back as his eyes gleamed in joy. "No need to ask for my pardon, my lady. I am only jesting with you. I figured you may be in need of a bit of lightness. From what I have gathered, you will be restricted to this bed for a time."
Rodaìn smiled, more at ease. Her mood was lifted by this young stranger. Rodaìn was slightly disconcerted at the amount of information he knew about her, but she assumed it was easily attainable and likely already a strand in the rope of gossip that wove its way around Rohan. "That is correct, I am afraid."
"I still see I am holding you in great suspense though," Deviran winked at her, gesturing to the package resting on his back. "It is now time to reveal what I carry in this bag, I suppose." He hefted the bag from his shoulder theatrically and set it gently on a nearby table. With his back to Rodaìn, Deviran unwound the string and gently slid the item out of the sac.
Though excited, Rodaìn was also nervous, but she hoped this vibrant man would not harm her. She was relieved that he had left the door slightly ajar.
"Here we are, my lady," Deviran said in a loud voice, spinning around dramatically. The object in his hands elicited a gasp from Rodaìn. A new bow! Rodaìn was stunned. She had lost hers at Amon Hen. She carefully extended her hands to feel the bow. It was beautiful. Crafted from sleek wood, it felt sturdy and light, and was of significantly higher quality than her former bow. Rodaìn's hands could not stop roaming over the magnificent weapon, already seeking to gain the feeling of all of its workings. Surely this bow could not be for her, not a product of such high of quality?
Deviran watched Rodaìn interact with the bow. Her appreciation was quickly apparent. Grinning down at her, he took pride in his work and the joy it brought. Though a craftsman, he primarily worked with swords as a blacksmith, and had little experience with bows, especially one suitable for a woman. Yet, it appeared his efforts had been well worth the toil, as the lady before him could barely contain her excitement. Deviran believed that if she was not bedridden, she would likely have sprinted for the training grounds, eager as a child who receives a new doll. Regardless, Deviran could not help himself, asking, "What do you think of it, my lady?"
"It is gorgeous! I have never felt a bow so taut and sturdy. Who is it for?" Rodaìn asked, careful not to assume.
Deviran laughed yet again. "Why, it is for you, my lady! Of course! I am glad you enjoy it. I was careful in the crafting of it."
Rodaìn was stunned. It was for her? This gentleman made it? How did this all come about? She had not spoken to anyone about her missing bow. She was nearly too astonished to speak. "My-my lord, thank you so much. I will cherish it always. I cannot w-wait to use it. Thank you," Rodaìn stuttered, looking at him in amazed.
"Of course, Lady Rodaìn. Anything for a lovely lady like yourself." At this, Rodaìn blushed fiercely. She had so many questions, but Deviran gathered the now-empty sack and headed back toward the door in a flash of activity. "I do hope you find light in your coming days, my lady. I hope to see you again," he said, his brown eyes connecting with hers.
Rodaìn merely nodded, still rendered speechless. With that, the door shut, and Rodaìn was alone once more. This time, though, with a new gift and a new friend.