And here's the second chapter to give you a bigger taster of the story. Just so you know, I'll be using the movie world as the main base for this story; but I am going to integrate certain parts of the book in as well.
Again, I welcome any feedback.
Enjoy the second chapter.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything to do with Lord of the Rings.
For three days Baramaethor explained things further to Maethoriel, and she listened while training with her brother, to make sure her fighting skills had not left her.
Now she floated in the Startravel room, looking towards Middle Earth. This room was where Emberlings came to begin their journey to a World, and was as dark as the Starposts. Behind her floated her brother, Bregolien, who had come in their father's place, as Stars could not enter the Startravel room, despite the name. "Remember, father will be watching over you," Bregolien said.
"I know," replied Maethoriel, her determination to make her father proud burning in the depths of her heart.
"Good luck, little sister, and be safe."
"Farewell, Bregolien. May we meet again." She moved forwards into the darkness, and was suddenly thrust outwards at an immense speed. Burning heat surrounded her, but did not touch her, as she tore through the Night Sky towards Middle Earth.
Lord Elrond stood at the side of Gandalf the Grey as they looked out into the evening life of Rivendell from a balcony high up. Early that afternoon, Frodo Baggins, the Ring-Bearer, had finally awoken. Lord Elrond had decided that he deserved a day to relax, speak with his companions, reunite with his uncle, and explore Rivendell before the Council, which was to be held in the morning.
Many had arrived that day: Dwarves, Men, and Elves from other regions. Most noteworthy were Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm, Gloin and his son Gimli, and Boromir son of Denethor, from Gondor. Elrond hoped that for once the different species - the Elves and Dwarves particularly - would be able to get on well enough that arguments would not break out; but he knew it would most likely happen anyway.
Behind them, Gandalf and Elrond heard the faint swishing sound of Elvish clothing, and then a majestic voice spoke, with a strange edge to it. "Pardon me, Lord Elrond, for interrupting; but there is something you and Gandalf must see." The Elf had a slightly flustered appearance, which was unusual and unsettling.
Elrond wondered if a quarrel between Dwarves and Elves had been started already. "What is it?" he asked curiously.
"A Star," the Elf replied. "A Star is falling!"
Elrond's eyebrows rose in surprise, for it had been many an age since a Star wandered Middle Earth. The corner of Gandalf's mouth twitched and he said as if to himself: "This will certainly make things more interesting."
Elrond swept off the balcony after the Elf, with Gandalf following behind, moving swiftly through Rivendell towards the courtyard. In it was stood a few of Rivendell's inhabitants, and most of those staying for the Coucil. Elrond and Gandalf moved between the crowd to stand at the front, all necks craned backwards to watch the bright white light hurtle towards the ground.
After a few minutes, the light was close. It was a radiant glow that cast its light around the land for miles, with tendrils of smoke following behind it like a white shadow. It became apparent that there was a high chance of the Star landing on them, so the crowd moved back until there were two rows of onlookers lined up against the perimeter of the courtyard. Then, finally, the Star landed.
It hit the ground with a sound like a strong wind, and the light and smoke circled up and around to form a tall, narrow wall of white. In the midst of the smoke they could make out a blindingly light figure, tall and slender and radiating a white glow. The smoke then seemed to be drawn towards the figure, and as it was absorbed, the light died down. The white figure gained features: pitch black hair and beautiful emerald eyes; a slim, curvy, and lean body; strong cheekbones and a smooth jawline; lightly tanned skin, unblemished and flawless, with an underlying faint glow; plump pink lips; and the pointed ears of an Elf. The Star wore black leggings tucked into dark brown boots that hugged her calves up to her knees, made of supple leather, and a deep grey tunic over a dulled silver shirt. She had a brown leather belt secured around her waist, from which hung a tomahawk on her right side and a short, curved dagger on her left. On her forearms were leather bracers lined with metal edges, and on her shoulders sat a cloak of Earth-brown colour. Over one shoulder the tip of a bow could be seen, while over the other there were the feathers of arrows. The Star was overall incredibly beautiful and delicate; but she seemed also fierce and warrior-like at the same time. It was a few moments before anyone found their voice.
"A Star," the voice breathed in awe. It was Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's loyal gardner. He blushed instantly, realising he had spoken aloud.
The Star smiled and parted her lips to speak; and when she did, the courtyard felt as though they had never heard something so soft and yet so powerful. The elves finally discovered what the mortals felt like when they saw and heard an elf, and the men, dwarves, hobbits and wizard felt more affected than ever before.
Maethoriel smiled at the Hobbit, remembering his name from when her father explained the situation more to her. "I am afraid that I am not a Star, Samwise Gamgee; but, rather, an Emberling - the child of a Star." The crowd around her seemed to become even more quiet - if that was possible - while she spoke, as if they were afraid that even the tiniest of sounds would overlap her voice and prevent them from hearing it. The thought flattered her; but she was not used to that kind of reaction, and suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. She looked to Lord Elrond and found him standing next to Gandalf. Then, bowing her head respectfully, she said: "I am Maethoriel, daughter of Baramaethor the Warrior. I come to seek a place in your Council, if you will have me, Lord Elrond."
He smiled warmly and opened his arms. "Your presence is most welcome, Maethoriel daughter of Baramaethor. You may stay here as long as you wish, for you have truly brightened the world with your arrival."
Maethoriel smiled again, and bowed her head in thanks. Her emerald gaze took in her surroundings, the flickering orange glow from the torches and candles around and within the buildings creating a warm and cosy atmosphere. She felt a light breeze tickle her skin and lift her black hair as the smell of nature and good food met her nose. Her sensitive Elf ears picked up merry singing and laughter on the other side of Rivendell, and she felt content. "Your home is certainly more beautiful down here than from my father's position in the Night Sky," she told Elrond honestly. "It gives me great pleasure to be here, for it has been a wish of mine for many a year."
"And it had been a wish of mine to gaze upon a Star standing before me ever since I learned it was possible; but never did I expect my wish to be granted," he replied.
"Technically your wish has not been granted," she reminded him, smiling. She would be patient with the Creatures of Land on the matter of Emberlings, because she knew that it had not been something they had created nor suspected, even.
"Yes, I suppose you are right," Elrond smiled back. "But enough with technicalities - are you hungry? Thristy? In need of a good sleep, perhaps?"
"Sleep is something I shall need to grow accustomed to," she said. "And so is food and drink. For now, I shall be content enough to speak and listen with the Elves of Rivendell and the guests of Lord Elrond, thank you."
"If you do not mind, Maethoriel daughter of Baramaethor, I have some questions for you," Gandalf spoke up, stepping forward.
Maethoriel smiled. "Of course, Gandalf. It would be my pleasure."
The crowd moved back into Elrond's hall - the Hall of Fire more specifically - and gathered every chair they could find. Many pulled their seat closer towards the fire, where Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Maethoriel sat. "We had better start with your questions, Gandalf," she said, leaning back in her seat with her hands on the armrests in a comfortable fashion. Her ankles were crossed underneath her knees and her long black hair was split into two sections over her shoulders. The glow of the fire could be seen reflected in her emerald eyes.
Gandalf nodded and brought out a long pipe. He lit it and took in a breath, letting the smoke come spilling gracefully from his lips before he spoke. "First, what brings a Star -or, rather, an Emberling, I believe - to Middle Earth?" He asked, his tone polite and curious, his expression and gaze friendly.
Maethoriel nodded approvingly at his choice of question. "Middle Earth is the source of great interest for myself and my father. Usually Stars and Emberlings alike do not interfere with the doings of worlds, for it is not our place; but it has been long since an event of this scale has occured. We know that there are many great battles to come, and they will be dangerous and may turn out poorly for the good people; but my father felt that he could not sit idle and watch this time, without giving any aid. So he asked me to come here and offer what help I could, so I have, and now I am offering my help - which I will give whether it is welcome or not."
"I am afraid we need all the help we can get," Gandalf replied, "But your assistance would be welcomed warmly even if we had enough to defeat the Enemy overnight." Maethoriel smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. "But enough with talk of war and battle, there will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. My second question is this: why is it that you appear to be an Elf?"
"When Emberlings travel to a world - for only they can, Stars are unable to leave their post - we must take on a form. It can be any being specific to that world, and more often than not, we choose the being best suited for our purpose. In my case, an Elf is what would suit me best, and so I have become one."
"Fascinating," he commented, smiling in wonder. "You are saying that, if you wished, you could have taken the form of, say... a hobbit? Or an orc?"
"Or even a wizard," Maethoriel added, nodding.
"Why did you not choose a wizard?" Elrond asked.
Maethoriel contemplated how to word her answer. "I came here to help; but not to be one of the most important figures in Middle Earth's history. I do not want to alter the course that this world would have taken had I not interfered, so I chose a form that seemed... explainable. There are many Elves in Middle Earth still, and it would not have been ridiculous for another to join the upcoming war. But for another wizard to suddenly appear - it just seemed too outlandish."
"So are you saying you will only help us as much as your Elf form can allow?"
She knew what he meant. "I know things that could help you; but if you are to come out victorious, in the end, it must be genuine - as if an Emberling had not been there to help; but rather another Elf."
There were a few quiet murmurs and whispers exchanged between those in the crowd, while Gandalf and Elrond watched her thoughtfully. Then Gandalf spoke. "I am sure, had I been in your place, I would have taken the same approach, Maethoriel. In my opinion, whether the others share it or not, the mere thought that a Star enjoys watching Middle Earth so much that he has sent down his own child to ensure its survival is enough." Elrond nodded in agreement, as did several in the crowd. Gandalf smiled warmly. "I have no more questions, for now. Do you have any of your own you wish to ask of any of us?"
"Only that I may be excused to explore more of Rivendell - I have a sudden desire to do so, if I may?" Maethoriel smiled.
"Of course," Elrond consented. "Go where you please. When you are finished, return here. If we have retired for the night I will see to it that an elf waits to show you to a room."
"My thanks, Lord Elrond," Maethoriel said sincerely as she stood. She walked around the edge of the crowd and caught the gaze of one member in particular. He was sat next to the hobbits he had been leading; but he appeared less rugged and rough. She sent the hobbits a smile before bowing her head respectfully to Aragorn, holding his gaze meaningfully. She then left the hall and stood in the middle of the courtyard outside, staring up at her father.
"Your father must treasure our world if he has sent his own child down, Maethoriel daughter of Baramaethor," he said as he came to stand next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. He too looked up at her father.
"Very much so," she replied. "For many reasons. One of these reasons is a man. My father respects him very much, so much that he asked me to ensure his survival."
Aragorn lifted his chin and took in a deep breath. "And who might this man be?" There was something in his voice that told Maethoriel he had already guessed the answer.
She smiled as she glanced to him. "It is you, Aragorn son of Arathorn. My father has watched over you since you were born. He admires your bravery and courage and loyalty - he claims he hasn't seen a soul like yours in many a long year."
"It is an honour to be thought of as such by one so wise and eternal. Surely there are others elsewhere more worthy of his attention."
Maethoriel studied his face for a moment, seeing the doubt in his eyes. "My father would have respected you even if you were not who you are," she claimed. "Your title means little in terms of his admiration; but he does wish to see your fate fulfilled." She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. "Whenever you doubt yourself, look up at where my father lies and remember the words I have spoken. You do not give yourself enough credit, I think."
He opened his mouth to reply; but someone beat him to it. "I don't mean to interrupt - and I apologise deeply if I have - but I was wondering if I might be able to speak with Maethoriel?" The two turned to find none other than Bilbo Baggins standing behind them. Maethoriel smiled kindly and Aragorn smiled fondly. "You see, I'm writing a book, and I would like to have something substantial about one so rare and important in it."
Maethoriel looked to Aragorn, and he grinned. "Of course, my friend. I am needed elsewhere, anyway."
A knowing glint sparked in Bilbo's eyes; but he said nothing more than: "You have my thanks, Dúnadan."
Aragorn walked off down a secluded path and Bilbo approached Maethoriel, smiling in wonder. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo Baggins," she said honestly. "Have you anything in particular you wish to speak with me about?"
And so, for the next few hours as the sun dipped below the horizon, Maethoriel walked the many paths of Rivendell with Bilbo, listening to him recount his adventures, both old and new; and she spoke of her kingdom and all the different Stars they could see. She enjoyed the old hobbit's company, and found herself quickly growing fond of him.
When they finally returned to the hall, she bid Bilbo farewell until the next morning, and followed an elf towards the room she had been allocated. It was a beautiful room, with smooth wooden furniture and a large bed with soft covers and plush cushions. An empty archway led out onto a large balcony which gave her a good view of a large section of Rivendell and the valley that surrounded it.
She looked up at the Night Sky and smiled towards her father. "Tomorrow I shall make sure I chose the correct path," she said quietly, knowing that he was probably watching her. "And I shall follow it until whatever end."