Now we move to Lórien for the first time and Ariel makes a friend.
Disclaiemr: I still don't own the characters or anything else, really.
TW: mentioning of violence in the latter part of the chapter
Viryóre
Indeed, life changes, everyone becomes more watchful and the world, while still beautiful, becomes darker. There is no more ranging for her other than short day trips, which puts her in the other elves' way more often than not. Arwen has to train now, too, at least to know enough to protect herself. She hates violence too much to be truly good at it, but in time she will be a decent protector, Ariel has to grudgingly admit. Besides, while she doesn't like her sister, she doesn't want her dead either, so she supposes the training is alright.
The power of the humans meanwhile dwindles more and more until they finally have to go into hiding after the battle of Fornost. Over the years, Ariel has found that despite her pretended nonchalance, she has always listened up when people talked about humans, that she cared about their destiny. Maybe it's because she's nominally half-human as well, she ponders. Or maybe simply because she knows what being human is like.
So, it seems there is no Northern Kingdom anymore, only a scattered amount of scared Númenorians without a leader, truly more Wildlings now than any kind of unified people. It should be degrading, pathetic, a joke. And yet, through visitors who come to Imladris, she finds they keep their traditions alive, their lore and stories, remember their heirs, even though they have nothing to rule. Heirs of nothing, she thinks. They are for the most part hard people and become even harder as the years go by, used to attacks and struggle, but also truthful and loyal. Númenorians in their soul, beggars in their clothes.
She never befriends them, not like her brothers, who always chase after the rangers for stories and news but doesn't oppose them either.
"Órenya," her mother starts one evening as they stroll through the vale, "I believe you should visit Lórien with your sister."
Ariel looks at her, surprised.
"Why now?"
She doesn't like the feeling that she is being sent away, but maybe she should have expected it. She is almost a lady now, or at least what Westerosi would have considered to be old enough to join another household. And the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel are family, after all. But still.
"Your father and I were talking about it, and it feels like the right time."
Ah, yes, Eldar and their feelings.
"We have entered a time of peace again," her mother continues, „we need to be watchful, and yet, it is a good time to wander. You have become old enough for such a trip, too. Don't worry, Órenya, you can come back any time you want."
Her mother kisses the top of her head.
"I'll be here. Or maybe I'll even visit you. You will love it there, I know. You strife to see more."
She is right. And Lothlórien sounds exciting.
"But do we have to go together?"
Her mother only looks amused by the whining.
"Yes. Arwen will come, too. One day you will understand. But for now - she is your sister, and while she is rather prolific with a sword now, you have become swift like eagle wings. I need you to protect her, can you do that for me?"
Well, if she asks like that - of course, Ariel will say yes, more for her sake than for Arwen's though.
They leave with a little party a couple of months later, and for once she changes out of red clothing and into greens and browns, mostly for security. (Of course she packs a red cloak, duh, she will make a fashion statement in Lórien as well). Arwen is now wearing the same green and brown travel gear, and suddenly they look more alike, their hair colour the only grave distinction. It's a long trip, it reminds her painfully of the time they went North from King's Landing to Winterfell before all of that mess in Westeros began. But this time, she is not squeezed into a tight, suffocating wheelhouse. This time, she rides herself, looks around, notices every tree, and hind, and squirrel. This time there is more. But there is also a painful lack of Tommen and Myrcella and Jaime and even Joffrey, though she truly doesn't miss his sneering if she is honest. Maybe it's the fact that she is bodily younger than he was back then and therefore feels still more like a child and less than a mother here, but she can understand all of her smothering affection a lot less now. It doesn't seem to make sense.
Arwen is usually riding next to her, and the silence slowly morphs from cold to comfortable. Not much to say, but also nothing to complain.
When they reach the borders of Lórien, they are not only welcomed by golden trees but also by the powerful hum of magic, more present than anything Ariel has ever heard. It's bright and everywhere and the leaves are shining and beautiful and impressive. For all Imladris has become her home, grudgingly she has to admit that this makes her heart sing. A couple of elves appear, it seems out of nowhere, swift like shadows. The Marchwardens, she assumes.
They are friendly enough, but Ariel can imagine they will attack and neutralize any attacker before they even know what is happening. Other than most of Rivendell elves who prefer swords, these all carry only or at least additional bows and arrows and somehow, she doesn't think they are used to missing their aims. It's intriguing. The Wardens escort their little party to Caras Galadhon, and while they look rather haughty in the beginning, they get more and more chatty the closer they get. It probably has to do with a feeling of security, even though Arwen and her remain mostly excluded from the conversation. It doesn't bother Ariel much, instead, she uses the time to observe. Most Galadhrim seem to be silver-haired like her mother, Sindar elves, probably, and she dryly thinks that Rhaegar wouldn't feel so special here. There is an obvious twang in their pronunciation, almost like an accent, but it's not too distracting.
She is positively surprised about the city, it reminds her more of Imladris than she has expected. There is a little fountain, and walls and even houses, though she has the feeling most elves live outside somewhere. A lot of the architecture is connected to trees which have been changed into homes as well, high and big and beautiful. She can see Arwen is just as enchanted, her eyes are shining, and she smiles this secret happy smile her sister has gotten to know well.
The grandparents are gracious and scary at the same time - but while Lord Celeborn looks all the leader with his silvery hair, a man of pure authority, earnest and rather stern, it is his wife who almost makes her flinch. But Ariel has been prepared, and she has stared down Lord Tywin and icy Ned Stark and many many others, so she holds these incredible blue eyes in an eternally beautiful face. The Lady Galadriel seems ageless and perfect, nothing is out of place. The white of her dress reinforces the shine that seems to surround her and sets off the shining waves of her hair that tumble down in an unbroken stream. It's a bit curly like Ariel's, and while it is a little more silver, it too has an obvious golden shine. Then the lady smiles and it is as glowing as her hair.
"Welcome to Lothlórien. We hope you will love our woods as much as we do."
Yes, Ariel loves them, and the almost otherworldly beauty of the golden trees. But she also doesn't quite know what or who to be here - in Rivendell, she is the beautiful dangerous oddity that nobody crosses but hardly anyone is truly afraid of either. Sometimes she forgets she still looks about 12 or 13. Even so - Joffrey was about 14 when that stupid boy started a war, Robb Stark only a bit older when he actually won battles. But alas, the elves don't seem to think that will happen any time soon. So, in Imladris, she is left in peace. What will it be here? How will she fit in? Is this another King's Landing? With a churning in her stomach, she remembers young Sansa Stark, only just a girl then and thrown in her, Cersei's, claws, ready to be devoured. A girl who lived through more than any child should.
But this is not King's Landing.
Her grandmother meets her a couple of nights later, well, rather at dawn, because that's the time Ariel truly enjoys. She has climbed up into the highest flett to look out over the golden trees, sparkling in the first thoughts of light, when a presence behind her alerts her. The Golden Lady smiles, it's indulgent.
"You like the dawn?"
Ariel nods.
"I do."
"Most Eldar rather mourn the loss of the stars. They say the sun is for humans."
Well, that explains stuff, Ariel thinks. She shrugs.
"I'm a half-elf. And the stars are still here, aren't they?" she points up at where Earendil is still visible. "So, I think it makes sense I like the dawn. Arwen prefers the dusk."
Galadriel chuckles.
"Of course. What do you like about the dawn?"
The question, curious and yet kind takes her aback.
"It's -" she stops. No, she won't say.
In the end, it doesn't matter, because Galadriel is mighty, and Ariel is apparently an open book to her.
"Because it means the night is over, and you have had enough night to last a million lifetimes?" she asks, "and because a part of you is human. Differently human from Arwen."
Ariel nods, because, yes. Maybe her night wasn't a night like the ones in the North, but a different one, but still night all the same.
"Dawn means new beginnings."
"Indeed. You have been sent, my girl, and I don't know why, not yet. But it is clear there will be a path for you."
"I don't see it. I don't know what I am doing here."
"You will, in time."
She looks at the younger elleth gravely.
"I can feel you have lived through half a lifetime and yet now you are so much older than you ever were. That you could never be a child and still don't know how to be one. There is still a hole in your chest, full of grief for souls that are missing. And there is guilt, and ambition, so much ambition. You are proud and fierce, and you will burn this world if you don't take care."
"Get out of my head!" Ariel hisses, panicking.
Galadriel only smirks a little.
"I don't need to. It is in the way you hold yourself, the way you look at your surroundings." Then her smile turns a bit wry. "You also remind me a lot of myself when I was younger."
She steps towards her and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I wanted to be free and to have space and power. I clashed with my brothers, and I left. You also are a confrontational one, it seems."
"That too, probably."
Ariel knows she's bratty, but what is that lady getting at? Everyone can see she's different - and difficult. But she doesn't seem to mind, and they only watch as the sun slowly sends the first true rays over the woods.
"I still sometimes think it is strange living in the trees," her grandmother comments, "we didn't always, you know? But the richness of this place is in the trees themselves, and there wasn't much space anyway. And still, that isn't the whole reason. There were the fletts, at first, just as outposts, like for us right now. But with the creeping darkness, it became more secure to live up here."
"I like it."
"I am glad."
Ariel finds she actually likes Lórien quite a bit, especially when her grandparents take one long look at her and have her train with the young Galadhrim. Just like the Marchwardens who escorted them most won't really talk to her, and she soon realizes it's not because they don't like her but because they want to be polite. She is a lady in their eyes and while she revels in the status, it makes her miss out on the easy companionship the others seem to share.
There is one ellon, though, who doesn't seem to care about her lineage. He seems to be a little older than her, maybe more like 15 or so and the middle one of three brothers, though they all look quite the same in age. His name is Haldir, he is rather common, not of high birth, and he is a pain in Ariel's butt.
The thing is, she has always practised with a sword, and while she is pretty good with that now, Glorfindel and her have just started with a bow a couple of decades ago. This means she is quite good, obviously, with an Imladris bow, but truly no match for these Woodelves. They use different weapons, longer bows made from stronger wood which takes much more effort to bend. These bows also make the arrows soar a lot farther, but as for now, Ariel can't even pull the string back far enough to use it decently. Even with her Imladris one, she is still much slower - it always takes her a moment to adjust is almost second nature to the other youths. while the others have practised with it all of their lives. They don't seem to think, they just shoot shoot shoot.
Haldir knows it and teases her relentlessly, especially after she knocks him over once during training. At first, she wants to complain. How dare he disrespect her like that? But it is so different from how everybody else treats her that she simply hits back harder.
Over the years, they become each other's preferred sparring partners, companions in training with swords and bows. While Haldir is still the better shot, Ariel can usually best him in single combat. Usually. Like right now, when he slowly gets off the ground and picks up his sword again. He groans, even though the mossy ground has covered most of his fall - he's just such a drama queen sometimes. Ariel leans against a tree, catching her breath.
"You know, Haldir, you are getting predictable."
Haldir only smiles while he leans on his sword in a gesture that would have Glorfindel whack her over the head.
It's a weapon, not a crutch!
she can hear his voice in her mind.
"Predictable, am I?!" the ellon counters, "and yet, if I remember correctly, it was you who ended up on the ground during our last spar."
"That was a tactical retreat! I was merely testing your reflexes."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Is that what you call falling now? Interesting tactic, my lady."
She steps a little closer.
"It takes skill to make a fall look convincing. Perhaps next time I should let you in on the secret."
"I'd rather you keep your secrets. It makes our matches far more entertaining."
Ariel tilts her head curiously.
"And what about you? Any secrets you'd care to share?"
Suddenly he shifts and leans closer.
"If I told you my secrets, Ariel, they would no longer be secrets. And where's the fun in that?"
She likes the way he says her name and she is confused by the way it makes her feel. There is something familiar about it, and something warm. She pokes his chest with a finger.
"I'll hold you to that. One day, I'll uncover all your secrets."
"I look forward to seeing you try. But until then, perhaps you should work on not falling during our spars."
"Don't be a sore loser," she tells him dryly.
In fact, she would be quite interested in his secrets, she thinks. He is loyal, and she can see he is a leader, but he doesn't know that yet about himself. Even though he can be very witty, he isn't loud, his confidence doesn't need many words and damn if that isn't attractive. He won't let her run all over him, not even now with about 2100 years of age and all the splendid beauty of a young maiden. She is aware he has always been handsome - but even so, now he seems to truly grow into his body. While she has always searched for similarities between Jaime and Glorfindel, she can't really see them in Haldir. Maybe that is one thing that endears him to her, that he seems so - singular.
Most of all, he confuses her. There is something between the two, even though it is always laced with competition. She also sometimes considers whether this is Elvish attraction and what would it mean, but then dismisses the thought, because it makes her brain hurt. Nominally, he is older than her and also older than Cersei ever was, though regarding development, he's not. She is - she doesn't know. She is a girl and a woman at the same time, she thinks. And besides, she is the daughter of the Lord of Imladris, and he is not even a Marchwarden yet. Even if she wanted any kind of romantic relationship, which would not be possible, even in this different world.
Questions like these keep her up, often bring her to the highest flett to watch the night until it turns into dawn. Sometimes Arwen joins her and sometimes they talk - well, Arwen does. She reports about her own studies, while she can't deal with bows for the life of her, she gets skilled with herbs. If she were just a little bit more ruthless, she would be good at poisons as well, Ariel thinks, but for now, she sticks to antidotes. Nevertheless, Ariel's regard for her grows. Sometimes, when her sister gets tired, she passes out with her head in the blonde's lap and it's strange to be the object of such affection. She knows she can be charming, or rather, could be, that much is still left of Cersei, but she hasn't tried that kind of manipulation in so long it seems like an odd idea. She has become Ariel so firmly, a furious, ambitious, but at least truthfully unruly chit. But somehow, Arwen seems to trust in this strange person she seems to be now.
Haldir seems to like it, too, and she finds that more and more people do, once she "tries to be nice" as Arwen puts it. It comes easy to her sister but it's something she has to practice.
They both gain other names, not quite titles but also not quite, and they are so obvious she has to snort. Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar, though it literally refers to the twilight. No wonder, since she apparently looks more and more like a young version of Lúthien Tinúviel.
They give her the same name and yet not, Ariel Minuial, the Morrowdim. It stands for the dawn, the twilight while the stars fade. In a way, it's maybe the less affectionate name (of course), but she finds it suits her. It suits them, and for the first time, she finds she doesn't mind being called Arwen's Other.
Her epesse also matches the red clothes she still wears when she is not on patrol with the others (and even then, sometimes). Why she still holds on to the Lannister heritage she doesn't really know, probably because the importance has been drilled into her mind for so long that she can't get rid of it. However, it certainly feels less significant now, here where nobody has ever heard of the name. Now, it's almost like a private joke.
~ 0 ~
It takes her about a hundred years more to finally come to terms with the fact that Haldir might be her friend and that she loves him, as the term mellon supposes. Her grandmother isn't surprised though, neither at the revelation, at Ariel's panicky confession, nor at how long it took her to figure it out.
She just chuckles and kisses the top of her head and tells her that love comes in more forms than Ariel can ever imagine.
Well yes, she truly can't imagine. It's scary.
Ariel wouldn't be Ariel though if she didn't do anything about her revelation, even though she is not quite certain how to go about it.
In the end, it happens one evening as Haldir and herself are on patrol, for once only the two of them since they are not meant to go far from Caras Galadhon. To be truthful, the whole patrol tonight is a joke, otherwise, they wouldn't have left two elves barely grown (even though they can be counted amongst the most accomplished fighters) run off alone. The air is filled with the sounds of nature, it is peaceful, for once. After a couple of miles in a circle around the city, they rest near a stream while the last of the golden light filters through the leaves, casting a warm glow on them.
Ariel gazes at the stream.
"Are we friends?"
Haldir looks at her, totally aghast.
"Of course we are. I thought that was clear. I love you, meldis nín. That's why I put up with you."
He tells her all of that, so plainly, without all the fuss Ariel's brain makes, as if it is obvious, as if this is something she should already know. She blushes slightly, then becomes serious.
"I am not ... good with these ... feelings," she slowly admits.
Haldir bumps his shoulder against hers.
"I know. But I didn't think you were that bad."
He ducks and laughs as she throws an acorn at him, then takes her hand. Ariel can feel the callouses, both from his sword and from pulling back the string on his bow. Hers must feel similar, she thinks.
"We have been bound, somehow, though I cannot by the Valar understand why."
She's not quite certain whether that is an insult or not, so she lets it slide. She doesn't know either anyway. He squeezes her hand.
"No matter what comes, meldis nín."
Ariel slowly leans her head on his shoulder.
"Hannon le."
"For what?"
She shrugs, a bit helplessly, but he seems to understand and only rests his own head against hers.
~ o ~
She doesn't know how long she would have stayed if nothing had happened, probably until she had come of age, but a messenger rips her out of her routine. He brings dark news that makes her drop to her knees, then she's shaking and for a moment she can only cling to Arwen who is holding onto her in turn: Their mother, on the way to visit them, has been caught by orcs, and by the time the Rivendell Elves were able to free her she had been deeply injured. There is no question, the two girls return as quickly as possible with a small but highly trained escort.
"Promise you'll take care," she asks of Haldir before she leaves.
He's just reckless enough to get himself killed while she is away.
"Bring me back such a pretty red cloak as you have," he answers.
She knows it's his demand for her to take care, and to come back to Lórien. Still, if she ever does, she will bring him such a cloak anyway.
It's a hard trip and they push their horses to the limit where they can actually use them. Out here the destruction is much more visible and for the first time, Ariel understands what her parents wanted to shelter them from. It only strikes her now how much they truly want to keep their children safe.
Imladris seems sad somehow, darkened and paled, maybe it's a reflection of its leader who also seems tired and desperate. In the meantime, he has been able to heal Celebrían, but Ariel knows there are more traces, traces they cannot see and that he can't erase. Still, their mother smiles when she sees the girls and for a moment it's as beautiful and bright as it has always been.
But she will leave to go into the West, Ariel knows somehow even before she says it. She can't stay here, where everything is a reminder, she needs to escape the constant pain that lingers. It's like losing Joanna all over again, only this time, there is no imp to blame. This time it's orcs, and she can see the same fury in her brothers, while Arwen just seems sad.
It is decided they will all travel to the Grey Havens together where the ships to Valinor leave, a last journey for the family. An odd thing, sad and still cheerful at the same time. Ariel would have never thought her life would come to this, but she will go with her nana for as long as she can.
One night, when the end of their travels comes nearer and nearer, Celebrían takes her to the side. She is crying and Ariel doesn't know why, but her heart tells her that she needs to make her stop crying right now!
"What can I do?" she asks.
"Keep watch over your sister," her mother tells her, "she will need you most of all. You belong together, despite the opposites, Undómiel and Minuial."
Ariel nods, she can take care, even if she doesn't understand Arwen. If it helps her mother, she will.
"I will miss you, Órenya," she tells her, "I will miss you and your sister forevermore."
Ariel frowns.
"But we can meet again. In the West, where you will be."
Part of her mind might still be human, but Ariel has realized that much about being Elvish. Truly, she doesn't see any necessity for choosing a mortal life. Been there, done that.
Celebrían only smiles and pulls her into a hug.
"I am so proud of you, and everything you have become."
Ariel's lip starts to wobble and she kind of hates it, but she also needed to hear that.
"You never gave me a name, though."
It's a statement, but it sounds a bit accusing. Celebrían laughs.
"Of course I did! I gave it to you..." she pretends to think for a moment, "about 2200 years ago, just when you were born."
"You never said."
"You weren't ready."
Ariel looks up at her mother.
"What is it?"
She kisses the top of her head, just like her grandmother, even though she is only a little bit taller than Ariel anymore.
"Viryórë."
A little bit of lore-dump:
In Elvish customs, a person would have 3 to 4 names.
The father name (given by the father, obviously): The most formal one, usually derived from the parents' names. I consider Arwen and Ariel to be the father names, since one of their grandmother's name is Artanis and Ariel at least includes the -el, which could stand for star if taken individually. ;)
Funfact: Both Ariel and Arwen are both Sindarin and Quenya names.
Her mother name (given by Celebrían) is obviously Viryórë (Quenya), made out of virya- (change) and óre (heart, conscience, but also caution, and rising/Sunrise/East). Mother names are often prophetic or matched to the character, and this is ... both.
- Celebrían probably would have been more familiar with Sindarin than Quenya, BUT the literal Sindarin translation of the name would probably be Gwistgûr which just doesn't sound so nice, in my opinion.
Celebrían also calls her Órenya, which simply means "my heart", kind of as a diminutive and nickname and a nudge towards the name.
Meanwhile, her epessë, which is something like a title, is Minuial (S.) / Amaurëa (Q.) (dawn, morrowdim, twilight).
So the full name is either Ariel Minuial in Sindarin or Viryórë Amaurëa OR Ariel Amaurëa in Quenya,
Then, there is also the name people might give themselves, reserved for friends, but that will come up later.