Disclaimers: I don't own any characters or settings from Lord of the Rings.

Act V

Chapter 32: Arien

As the night storm subsided, revealing a sky filled with swirling cosmic lights, the remnants of battle lay before them, both eerie and serene. The sky, dark and vast, seemed closer, almost within reach, as though one could grasp a handful of stars. The battlefield, now silent, echoed the recent chaos with the stillness of fallen warriors and shattered weapons.

Elenion, or rather Arien, stepped out from the shelter of Helm's Deep. The horn had sounded, signaling their victory, yet the war was far from over. Arien moved cautiously, her heart heavy with the weight of their temporary triumph. Haldir's recovery had been troubling, as even in his injured state, his sharp eyes had not missed her presence.

Haldir, propped against the cold stone wall, gestured for Arien to come closer. The cloak she wore, a gift of necessity from Legolas, fluttered around her slender frame, a stark contrast to the battlefield's grim reality. Haldir's eyes, wise with centuries of experience, scrutinized her with a mix of concern and understanding.

"Come closer, Arien," he said, his voice steady despite his injuries. His gaze softened as he continued, "It matters not the name or form you choose. Reality has a way of finding us all. The price to be paid or the reward to be received remains the same, regardless."

Arien, standing beside the Marchwarden, felt a swell of emotions. The elf she saw today was far removed from the disoriented maiden who first returned to her Elven body in Lothlórien. Gone was the reckless Elenion, who had rushed into danger without fully grasping the gravity of their situation. Instead, before Haldir stood an elf more attuned to the harsh truths of their world, yet burdened by them.

"I see now," Haldir continued, his voice carrying the weight of his wisdom. "You have faced many battles within and without. Yet, the true battle lies in finding peace with who you are, irrespective of the guise you wear."

Arien remained silent, her thoughts a tempest of confusion and clarity. She was relieved that Haldir had survived the battle, hoping that with time and care, he would return to his duties as the steadfast Marchwarden of Lothlórien. The toll of war was evident, and Haldir had lost many of his kin, a reality as stark and painful as the blood-soaked ground they stood upon.

Her mind drifted, attempting to escape the spiraling thoughts. The sense of belonging to her body was undeniable, yet the disconnect with her surroundings lingered, a paradox she could not resolve. For centuries, she had wandered, feeling like an outcast, despite the physical form that felt inherently right.

The turning point came when she decided to take action, becoming Elenion and joining the Rangers. The act of stepping into the fray had grounded her, linking her to the world in a way she had not anticipated. The reality of war had a way of stripping away pretense, leaving only the core of one's being.

"I was foolish, reckless," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I understand now. It does not matter what name I bear or the form I take. The truth is constant, and I must face it."

Haldir nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "You have grown, Arien. The journey ahead is long. We all bear our burdens, and we all must find our path."

Arien looked out over the landscape, the faint light illuminating the faces of those who had fought beside her. She felt a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet resolve to continue fighting, not just for Middle Earth, but for the acceptance of her own identity within it.

Arien stepped out of the keep into the bright morning sun, but the scene before her was disorienting and filled with sorrow. Death surrounded them—men and elves lay fallen, their bodies being dragged away for burial, while the Uruks were piled to be burned. The stench of sweat, blood, and mud permeated the air, a stark reminder of the heavy cost of their victory. Despite winning the battle, the price paid weighed heavily on her heart.

Walking slowly, she clutched Legolas' cloak around her, hiding her torn clothes. Her hair, now loose and tangled, hung in waves, and her attire was stained with mud and blood, though none of it was her own. As she descended the staircase, she found herself face to face with Aragorn.

His eyes were filled with worry and frustration. He embraced her briefly, ensuring she was unharmed, before stepping back and beginning to scold her, his voice a mix of relief and reprimand. "What were you thinking, Arien? To walk into such a serious battle so recklessly! What if you had been injured or worse? How could I ever face Elrond or Arwen again?"

Arien wished he would scold her for the right reasons—for dressing as a male, for risking everyone's safety by masquerading as Elenion. But Aragorn's concern was genuine, stemming from his deep worry for her well-being. She looked into his eyes, her own filled with determination.

"I am sorry, Aragorn," she said firmly. "But I cannot hide while you all are here fighting. You have every reason to scold me, but not for this."

A few steps away, Gandalf was deep in conversation with King Théoden. Arien hesitated to approach, not wanting to face another round of explanations or reprimands. Instead, she made her way towards her horse, grateful that none of the horses had been harmed. She ran her fingers through the horse's mane, feeling a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As she checked her belongings, she felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her. The connection she longed for with nature, with the world around her, seemed distant and elusive. Elves were supposed to have an innate understanding of nature and other beings, but she felt disconnected. The battles she had fought, the risks she had taken, all felt like a blur. She longed for a sense of belonging, a clarity that seemed just out of reach.

The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. As she stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of conflict, she resolved to continue fighting, not just against the darkness that threatened Middle Earth, but against the inner turmoil that plagued her soul. The journey ahead was uncertain, but Arien knew she could not turn back. She would face whatever came next with the same resolve and courage that had brought her this far.

Arien's heart pounded as she sensed a burning gaze from afar. Turning sharply, her eyes met Legolas's. He had been speaking with Gimli across the battlefield, but now his piercing eyes were fixed on her. His words from earlier echoed in her mind: "Cover up." He knew. She wasn't certain how much he knew, but he had realized she was not an ellon.

Panic welled up inside her. How would she face Legolas? What would she say to him, or to Gimli, who seemed blissfully unaware? As Legolas approached, his expression unreadable, she took a hesitant step back. The weight of his questions bore down on her, even though he had yet to voice them.

Legolas's mind churned with confusion and suspicion. Who was she? Was she even who she claimed to be? He recalled her odd behaviors, and her hesitant speech, and now, with the adrenaline of battle waning, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Aragorn and the twins seemed complicit, their awareness of her true identity evident in hindsight. Legolas struggled to reconcile his feelings—whether to be angry, perplexed, or compassionate.

When Legolas was close enough, Arien's courage faltered. She managed to compose herself just enough to bypass him without a word. Legolas didn't stop her. He would never force someone to divulge their secrets, but he felt she owed him an explanation.

Behind them, Aragorn watched with a mixture of concern and understanding. He knew this confrontation was inevitable, yet hoped it wouldn't come to blows. Gimli, sensing the tension, observed the exchange with growing curiosity. As Arien passed by him, he fell in step beside her, his sturdy presence a silent support.

"What's going on, Elenion?" Gimli's gruff voice broke the silence, his eyes searching her face for answers. "You've been acting strange, even for you."

Arien sighed, feeling the weight of Gimli's honest concern. "Gimli, there are things about me... about my past, that I've kept hidden. Not because I wanted to deceive, but because I needed time to understand them myself."

Gimli furrowed his brow, his loyalty unwavering. "We all have our secrets, lad. But we're in this together. If there's something we need to know, now's the time to tell it."

Gimli guided her a little further, letting her take a seat on a weathered stone, away from the bustling aftermath of battle. His gruff but gentle presence offered a rare comfort. "Why don't you try and tell me what's wrong? Perhaps it's not as awful as you think. Lad, we're all friends here. Whatever you think you did, we should face it together."

Arien took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched Legolas' cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes, filled with uncertainty, met Gimli's earnest gaze. "I lied to you from the beginning..." she managed to say, her voice wavering.

Gimli leaned in, his brow furrowing with curiosity and concern. "You lied?" he repeated a touch of confusion in his tone. He never thought that Elenion was capable of deceit, but he wanted to understand. "Sometimes, we all tell a white lie here and there. Tell me, lad, what was your lie?"

"I am afraid that after telling you, we will no longer be friends, Gimli," Arien confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Elenion," Gimli began, intending to reassure her, but she interrupted.

"Arien," she corrected, causing Gimli to glance around, momentarily thinking there was someone else nearby.

"Who's Arien?" Gimli asked, his confusion deepening.

"There are many things I haven't told you, Gimli," Arien said, struggling to find the right words. "But I don't have the energy to explain everything right now. The most important thing is... my name is Arien, not Elenion, and I am not an ellon. I never was."

Gimli stared at her, processing her words. At first, he thought she might be playing a trick on him. "You mean like, another race? Or...?" he trailed off, trying to make sense of it.

"I am a girl, Gimli!" Arien admitted, and for the first time, it felt right to acknowledge her true self. "I am a girl, a normal girl, whose name is Arien. I posed as a boy so I could go on adventures. That's all—or at least the most important part."

Gimli's eyes widened, and then a hearty laugh escaped him. "A girl, like a female elf," he mused. "Ah, that explains why you were shorter than the rest, though not prettier."

Arien's breath caught in her throat, but Gimli's reaction was unexpected. He wasn't angry. He was... amused. Relieved.

"You're not angry with me?" she asked, still clutching the cloak close to her.

"Angry? No way," Gimli smirked. "You managed to fool us all. I'm just surprised the others didn't find out sooner. Elves and their keen senses, and they couldn't tell the difference between you and a he-elf."

"Well, the twins and Aragorn knew already," Arien revealed. "I've traveled with them for so long, and they're family. Thranduil figured it out at once when he saw me—perhaps he was the only one. And Haldir, because he knew me as Arien, so he recognized me."

Gimli rubbed his beard, a little annoyed. "The Elvenking seems to know it all. Wait—Legolas didn't know?"

Arien shook her head. "He didn't. Remember, he was avoiding me all the time, so it seemed to work out best."

"Didn't?" Gimli asked, curious.

"He found out at the end of the battle. My tunic got cut, and he saw," Arien admitted, feeling a pang of anxiety.

"Ah, that's why he's been acting so odd," Gimli understood now why Legolas suddenly stopped talking to him and kept staring at her. "Don't worry, lass. I'll speak to him."

"It's fine. He has the right to be angry. Though, Gimli, you seem oddly fine with it?" Arien asked, still confused.

"Arien, right?" Arien nodded and Gimli continued, "It doesn't matter, lass, boy or girl, elf or not. You are our friend. I trust you. I don't need any excuses because I've seen you fight alongside us, with us. I would have preferred if you could open up sooner, but if you say you have your reasons, I respect those. When the time is right, and we rest and the war is over, we'll have all the time to talk. You can tell me anything you wish or nothing at all. Because nothing changes—you are my friend. And I hope I still am yours."

Arien smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. She felt worse for not opening up to Gimli earlier. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. "Of course, you are my friend, Gimli. I will tell you everything in time. I still have many explanations to give and an annoyed Legolas to deal with, but I will."

"That's the spirit, lass," Gimli tapped her on the shoulders. "So, Elenion or Arien, how should I call you?"

"Arien," she said, for the first time, sure of her name. "It would be nice to call me by my real name."

Legolas had reached Aragorn, both watching Arien conversing with Gimli in the distance. Legolas stood next to Aragorn in silence, his gaze fixed on them. After some time, he spoke, his voice tinged with curiosity and confusion. "You knew about that," Legolas asked.

"I did," Aragorn admitted, his tone measured. "But it was not my story to tell."

"That much I have figured out," Legolas said, his brow furrowing in thought. "What is she, or he?"

Aragorn turned to look at Legolas, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "An Elven maiden, Legolas, dressed as an Ellon. That much I can say to ease your confusion. The rest, you should ask her."

Legolas nodded, his thoughts churning as he slowly began to recall their odd moments together. If he had known she was a maiden, many of those moments would not have seemed so strange. Yet, he still did not know what to make of this revelation.

For now, Gandalf called them. They had much to deal with: injuries to heal, a return to Edoras, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Everyone had to cope with the aftermath of the battle. The time would come for Legolas to face her and seek the answers he needed.

((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - Three))

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