Chapter Eighteen

A lot of first impressions were flooding through everyone's minds.

The silence was louder than Manwë's thunder.

It spoke volumes of a number of things unsaid, as many as the drops in the ocean, yet was as empty as before the creation of Eä, and through it all the High King of the Noldor stared at the woman whose presence had haunted his dreams, excited his fantasies, tagged at his nerves and caused him to be less than himself, even before battle.

Somehow, he felt as if every puzzle-piece that made up his life were now moving into place.

Estela felt her breath hitch. The ellon with the sapphire-blue eyes and the midnight hair, she thought.

No, it couldn't be.

It was obvious he was of the highest authority with his regal, admittedly magnificent bearing, his natural presence and powerful charisma. Astride his horse, he stood straight and tall, and he wore armour, immaculately-forged though not gaudy and flamboyant. The golden metal-covered blue layers, were of the finest make, and she noticed the emblem, emblazoned upon his cuirass.

No…

Gil-Galad, the High King of the elves and of the Noldor.

Though he stood straight, strong and powerful, Ereinion moved forwards as if in a dream, not once taking his eyes off the maiden- Estela, as if he went to her drawn by some powerful force that belonged elsewhere than from Arda. Perhaps it was the Valar or Ilúvatar Himself.

But he brought himself right in front of her. His horse whickered by her mount and hers snorted in alarm at the close proximity they were in, but everything else was so silent, it was as if the time before the Music of the Ainur.

They stared at each other and everyone else did the same, until Estela recovered her wits and bowed her head in reverence and respect.

"Ereinion Ñoldóran," Estela murmured. Ereinion, King of the Noldor. It was the title he inherited from Finwë, their forefather.

Ereinion heard her voice, like nothing he had heard before and felt it stroke him, soothe and sweeten his temperament, so frayed before, and it washed over him, like warm, powerful waves, gentle, stroking him. He had heard the wind whispering through the leaves. He had heard the rushing waters of streams and the waves rocking him to sleep during his stay at the Havens. He heard the sound of birds laughing, singing above. But he hadn't heard her voice before now.

They were connected; even a fool would not doubt that. So Ereinion managed to bow his head in return.

"The Shieldmaiden?" he asked, not breaking his gaze.

Estela broke it however, and he saw uncertainty and maybe even fear- the maiden that was said never to fear anything- flicker through her emerald eyes.

Estela fought not to shiver and shake. Her hands were trembling though. He knows, she thought. He knows me.

He acted like he knew her, with his look.

He looked as if he knew everything about her, or at least wanted to. Or if she had something that was hers and hers alone, and that he wanted more than anything; that he was dying to possess.

Estela realised how frighteningly quiet it was, how the only noise, apart from those sentences were the horses. Possibly a bird. She didn't like the silence.

"King Ereinion Gil-Galad," she said. He nodded. "Yes, I am the shieldmaiden. And I have come to offer aid and assistance, should you need more allies in the coming battle. Although," she added. "You seem to have a fair share already."

The leader of the Elendili met her gaze. He saluted. The Éothéod lords bowed their heads in respect.

Thranduil son of Oropher looked up. His icy blue eyes widened. Would they now get the answers he longed for? Who was this maiden? What were the meaning of the words she spoke to him when they last met?

Most importantly-could they trust her?

He quickly calculated his options. Firstly, if she wanted to harm them, she already would have. Why waste so much time, especially when one was well-versed in operating in stealth and moving speedily, gaining everyone's trust before stabbing them in the back? It took too much energy and went on for two long.

Secondly, what had she to gain with the victory of the King's Men? She was an elf, like any of them. They would not spare her.

Thirdly, she had nothing to gain from them. She asked for nothing, and it would not be likely that they would give her anything in return. Not because they were ungrateful, but because if she required gold, gems and so forth, any kind of metal-work, even weaponry, it would be the duty of the Noldor, as the master smiths and craftsmen to obtain them. But although she was not decked out in jewels and fine silks he did not fail to notice that the craftsmanship on her armour were the best he had ever seen, even among the Noldor. Not even Gil-Galad's armour could compare, it seemed dim next to hers and crudely made. He had never seen anyone so well-outfitted for battle or any other occasion.

Fourthly, she had everything to lose, and she was committing not only herself, but her followers to fighting off the King's Men, just as she had already done. She was risking her life, going into the middle of an encampment of an alliance between Men and Elves, so if she wanted to turn on them, the chances were she would die. But then again, considering her fighting skills… Yet she was also vulnerable to whatever plan the King's Men and their thrice-damned king had for Middle-Earth. So whoever she was, the elven prince, grudgingly admitted to himself, for once, he could actually trust strangers.

Even aid them in return.

Thranduil glanced at his father. Oropher caught his son's gaze at the corner of his eye, and saw Thranduil's tense pose (unnoticeable to the human eye, and even most elves) relax slightly and a twitch at the corners of his mouth. He beckoned his head slightly towards the shieldmaiden, his expression warmer. Well that was unexpected. After all, Thranduil barely trusted anybody, save for those he had known for most of his life, and even then trust was a difficult issue. Oropher moved forwards on his horse as well, followed closely by his son and members of their guard.

Celeborn glanced at Elrond. His gaze was of alarm. There really was no turning back now. Did she know what she was doing? Galadriel remained expressionless and calm, but her blue eyes burned and they fixed with an intensity on the scene before her.

Fate, she knew, was taking a different road than it previously had done. Whether this would mean that

Amdir, King of Lothlórien, not to be outdone, went as well.

Elrond decided to go, to provide support (secretly for Estela) but the look he directed at Celeborn and Galadriel warned them they should stay behind. It would arouse suspicion. The king's herald was enough. They knew enough.

Galadriel sensed the fear and the dread welling up inside Estela. Have courage, she told her in her mind. All will be well.

She felt Estela relax. But everything would change.

Estela met the gaze of the High King again. Sapphire in its shade, but it would shame them as well. His eye colour were Indis the Fair's, second wife of Finwë, the forefather they shared. His father could really have been Findekáno, judging by the colour of his hair, Artaresto was gold as a Vanya and his wife was silvery in colour. But Findekáno's wife was sapphire-eyed as Indis had been. She was Vanyarin, after all. So naturally Estela for the first time in her life, could not help but ponder the High King's heritage. The fact that Turukáno was his brother's direct successor. And Artaresto was never the High King seemed to boost this idea.

But now was not the time, she reprimanded herself harshly. This may not be something to pry about (she certainly could not ask Gil-Galad) but there was no time to waste.

The High King (whoever's son he was) went forwards and cleared his throat. "Why are you here, my lady?" he asked. "I was under the impression that you did not wish to form an alliance."

Estela expelled the breath she didn't know she was holding. What was she going to say? Some old woman, probably a Maia in disguise, came up to me and told me to find you? Warned me that one of Morgoth's pawns is back?

She simply sighed and said. "Things have happened in a way I did not expect, I must do what I can to protect Middle-Earth." She looked resigned but at the same time determined.

That look reminded Oropher of his feelings on the matter. He would never have sought out the alliance of other elves unless necessary, preferring very much to stay in his Woodland home. She preferred to stay in isolation and secrecy. Whoever she was, they had something in common. He smiled ruefully.

Oropher was reminded on the question of her identity. Now that he had seen the mysterious elleth, he saw himself saw what others- including his own son- had said was true: the maiden did indeed have the most vivid copper hair colour shot with gold and silver, it seemed. It wasn't the colour of rust, orange-red, or autumn leaves. It was pure burnished, copper. And once again suspicion arose within him as to her identity.

Ereinion met her with a level gaze. He felt much calmer, like he had regained his regal, calm and confident sense of self. Secretly, he was relieved he was no longer feeling, or acting, like some ellon barely into maturity. And now he was gazing at her feeling some sort of power and strength rushing through his veins. He did not break his gaze and felt taller, straighter than before.

His sapphire-blue eyes burned into her and Estela fought not to flinch. She simply stood straighter. If he did not think her intentions were true, perhaps he should examine every reason, every aspect of the situation.

Why should she flinch? Had she not faced worse before? Had she not lost everything then committed herself to rebuilding and putting everything back together? It was that thought that prompted her to realise that even if her identity were exposed and she was rejected by them, then it was their loss. They knew they needed her help. They were hopelessly outnumbered, not merely for this coming battle, but for the invasion of the Númenórean fleet, and any more attacks. So she stared him down. Emerald into sapphire.

It was a piercing gaze and sent the rush through his veins again. Ereinion smiled, without realising what he was doing. "Welcome, my lady," his eyes still burned into hers. "My lord," she acknowledged.

He turned towards the audience assembled. Many of the men were sitting on their horses or standing there with their mouths hanging open. The elves were wide-eyed, and the elven leaders looked expectant, hopeful even. Oropher clutched his reins tighter.

"She has come to aid us," Ereinion announced to all assembled. Relief and grins broke out. They were dreading the battle, and knew they had little chance of surviving, until she came along. She nodded formally. The two of them rode side by side to their company. Estela sat straight and tall. This was a different poise to those ladies Ereinion had seen in his life. She wasn't merely raising her head and pulling her shoulders higher like he had seen other women do. She had a power and regality that radiated throughout her entire being and outwards, reaching beyond her and awing those that saw her. She did not need to strike a pose.

Oropher felt like he had had sharp slap to the face. She was royalty. No mere shieldmaiden, no matter how proud, strong, courageous and accomplished, had that. It was a power and charisma that went beyond that of many great leaders, male or female, of any race. She was obviously from a line of great kings.

It cannot be.

The greatest line of kings of the Eldar, had been the House of Finwë. But Fëanor had no grandchildren, Erestor had said that.

But there were very sparse records of the sons of Fëanor and their father. Next to nothing on their personal lives either, so….

Oropher forced a smile as Gil-Galad came over with the shieldmaiden. He acknowledged her presence with a smile and a nod. Estela did not miss the look in his eyes when she came over. He was scrutinizing her, examining every inch, every aspect. Analysing, trying to figure something out.

There was no time for fear.

"So you have come to aid us," the High King's voice was powerful, charismatic and strong. It wasn't too loud, and it wasn't brassy, deep and rich but not too much. Goodness, was she impressed by the High King?

No, she can't be.

"Yes," she answered simply and calmly, not betraying anything.

"May I ask what made you change your mind? After all, we have all heard of your skill and courage in battle-" (and your looks, he thought silently to himself) "-but never had you come forwards so openly to aid us."

"Necessities change," Estela said simply. "I would be blind not to see it."

"Indeed," Ereinion said softly. He was not thinking about the danger and the decision she had to make, but of himself and of her.

Suddenly, Estela remembered something.

She did not immerse herself as deeply as she did before, due to the importance of being in the present moment. But she did remember…

"Estela!" her mother called.

Estela got up and toddled to where her Amil and Atar stood. Outside, she could glimpse a couple leaving. There had been laughter, she had heard, from where she had been playing. She didn't know which couple it was; probably her parents' friends, possibly Findekáno and his wife.

"Atto, Ammë?" she sang in her lilting voice.

Her father looked magnificent and majestic but she didn't care even if he looked scruffy and was shorter than anyone else. He grinned at her.

"There is someone we want you to meet Little One," her mother murmured.

"This is-" she turned sharply. "Where is he?!"

Her father spun around. There was no one in the doorway, no sign that just moments before, a young boy, roughly the same age as Estela, had stood there. Estela's confusion was mirrored in her parents' faces. Just who did they want her to meet?

However, when they went searching out in the front garden, she could have sworn she had spied a pair of sapphire-blue eyes, peering out from the hedges, spying at her, gazing and their stare without breaking.

But many people had blue eyes, she thought as she greeted Oropher, King of Greenwood, formally, head bowed, placing a delicate hand over her heart.

She avoided looking at Elrond's and Celeborn's faces. Fëapoldon hovered closely and protectively near her.

"Welcome, my lady," Oropher said. His eyes were unreadable but had something there alright. "We are honoured by your presence."

Ereinion could have cursed himself for not saying the proper courteous words. He had forgotten.

"And I will be honoured if you will accept my help." She looked at Oropher, Amdir and Gil-Galad when she said it.

"Your help would be as welcome as though the Ainur have sent you themselves," Ereinion said earnestly.

"Indeed," Amdir chimed in.

Oropher said nothing but his gaze was fixed onto Estela's.

"Then I shall strive to do the best I can," Estela said.

"May I enquire as to your name, my lady?" Ereinion said. "We have only ever heard of you as the shieldmaiden."

Estela paused. "My name is Estela," she said after a while. She would follow the instructions of the old woman, apparently an Ainu.

"Hope," Thranduil smiled. "How very fitting."

"Estela," Ereinion said slowly.

Estela Nelyafinwiel gazed at the horizon. Ereinion stared at her behind the bushes. Her hair was rich and more beautiful, he decided, than the Mingling of the Lights, or the sea she was gazing at. Her skin was creamy and pale in contrast.

Beside her Cousin Itarillë stood next to her, as did another girl, with a strong Vanyarin blood, by the looks of her, like him.

"See the horizon," she breathed. "Out there, they say that on Tol Eressëa, you can glimpse the Outer Lands. Not that I'm interested," she said offhandedly.

"Why not?" The third girl asked. "I'd want to go- to see what lies beyond."

"Why?" Itarillë asked. "So we can get eaten by orcs?"

"Or kidnapped?" Estela asked mischievously. "Or frozen to death? Or crushed by rocks? Starve? Get scared?"

She mimicked a growl she had heard from Huan, her uncle's hound, no doubt about that, and then jumped up roaring.

"Estela!" Itarillë shrieked. The two girls squealed and jumped shrieking with laughter, as the copper-haired one chased them around. After a while, they started to chase her as well, the two gold-haired ones. But she was too fast for them, always dancing out of their reaches, and laughing joyfully to herself.

Ereinion watched entranced as the girls played, laughing and crying with joy and excitement at their game. Estela laughed the loudest, her copper hair rippling and waving behind her, the gold, red and silver catching in the light, making the gold light of Laurelin flash back and Telperion's silver seem to bounce. She danced, spinning more gracefully than the ladies of the court. Her hair reflected the light of the Trees and she closed her eyes, sweet serenity seeping into every feature as she danced, swaying with imaginary music, her arms waving gently. Her face had a dreamlike quality and a joy as well as serenity which he had never seen before. She was more like a grown maiden than a child, especially as she moved, swaying like a willow in the breeze. Her rosy lips turned up into a smile as she danced. He couldn't breathe.

She spun, and the two gold-haired girls had started dancing with her. Yet Ereinion paid them no heed, instead fixing his eyes with a burning intensity on the copper-haired daughter of Nelyafinwë.

He gazed at her dancing there and wished that she would never stop.

Ereinion smiled at her. There was something in his eyes now, as he looked upon her. The times have not changed in that regard, he thought slyly.

After bringing her entourage into the camp, Estela consulted with Maltariel and Fëapoldon as well as Vorondo. The latter did not look pleased at all. Far from it. Fëapoldon looked apprehensive. But Maltariel, who had been there with Estela and Itarillë or Idril, the day the future High King Ereinion saw them dancing, was positive, and resolute. She was doing the right thing.

"My lady," Vorondo was struggling to keep his temper in check. "We have just exposed ourselves to the awareness of not only the elves of Lindon, but the Woodland realms. Not only them, but their leaders. The Elendili were one thing, but the other elves? The Northmen? Was it really necessary? How are we to operate in secret now like we had done for so long?"

Estela raised an eyebrow. "We've fought in open battles before."

Vorondo tsked. "Yes, but this is different!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" Estela went up to him. She cupped his cheek. He nearly started. "I am not afraid. Not anymore. If you fear for yourselves, I swear that I will do whatever it takes, never to expose you. Any of you. What are you so afraid of?"

Vorondo opened his mouth but words escaped him and he was unable to reply.

"I have been given a sign," Estela breathed. "Hopefully it is the Ainur."

"Hopefully?!" Vorondo cried.

"Keep your voice down," Fëapoldon hissed.

Vorondo glared at him. Estela sighed. "Vorondo, what is it?" her eyes sharpened. "Something's not right, what's wrong?"

Vorondo couldn't reply.

Estela pursed her lips. She saw that Vorondo for some reason, couldn't tell her, but seemed upset- afraid- of something. Something other than the battle. In fact it was something other than being exposed.

After she had left the tent assigned to her, Vorondo stood there staring, helplessly, his mouth slightly open but no sound coming out. Emotion gleamed in his eyes.

Maltariel stared at him.

"You're in love with her aren't you?"

Vorondo couldn't disagree.

"For how long?" she asked.

Vorondo took a deep, shuddering breath. "Ever since I saw her, pulling me out, and tending to me, when I was weak from the fires of my home."

Maltariel couldn't speak.

"What is wrong?" she asked him, finally managing to regain her voice.

There was silence. Then:

"The High King," Vorondo rasped. "I saw him- the way he was looking at her. I-" he swallowed. "I couldn't…" there were no words to describe.

Maltariel had seen it too. She wondered how Estela could have missed it. The maiden had sharp eyes even for an elf, but was apparently blind to what the look High King directed towards her obviously meant.

Whether it was Gil-Galad or Vorondo, however, she did not even know. She did not know if her friend would accept the High King's advances, should he approach her, after spending so long isolated and concentrating on doing the 'greater good'. Estela, she believed, had long since forgotten how to love properly, in an intimate relationship such as family- despite her closeness to her comrades and their loyalty. As for romantic relationships… Maltariel was certain she had never thought about it, even before she left Valinor. After that she was the daughter, niece and granddaughter of kinslayers as far as the world was concerned. The chances of settling down and having a normal life, even without Morgoth and his minions hunting them, was thin as a string. She was not trusting enough to reveal her identity to the world, let alone any ellon. And bringing a child into the world to share her 'cursed' life and burdens… She had never known how to love. Never had been courted by an ellon. And had never even thought of it. Her family were more concerned on keeping her alive than with advising her on her future husband, and encouraging her.

As for Vorondo…. Maltariel winced. She knew her friend would never give up so easily. If he had followed and fought for her for centuries, without complaint, as one of the fiercest followers, there was no doubt he would never give her up. The question is, would she accept him, even if she knew how to love? She was completely different from the delightful little elfling that thought the best presents were to receive a hug from her Atar or Amil. That little girl spilled out her heart and opened her arms to any newcomer. Not this Estela.

This was far from good.

Sorry for taking so long and for the amount of inner thoughts here- not that much action I'm afraid! Ugh, I'll do better the next chapter- it's the Battle of Perlargir after all. These are first impressions for many after all. Artaresto is Orodreth, Itarillë is Idril, Findekáno is Fingon and Turukáno, Turgon. Ñoldóran means 'King of the Noldor'. So Gil-Galad secretly has a rival, and there is also the question of what Estela feels. Even she isn't sure. So what to do? Be warned, it's going to get juicier soon enough!