°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

━━━━ »•» act two. age of shadow

26. this heart of mine «•« ━━━━

* ✧                             .°

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 lothlórien; caras galadhon

*.                          ✦                           °.

SOFT VOICES FILLED WITH SORROW HAUNTED THE NIGHT SKY OF LOTHLÓRIEN. With somber tunes the Elves lamented Gandalf's fall and tragic passing. The mere sound was enough to tear her heart to shreds, as though she was watching it happen all over again. No matter how badly she wanted to, Elgarain could not ignore their grieving song. She picked up her pace down the stairs leading from the healing room. As if she could somehow outrun the haunting tune but she couldn't. The words were like knives cutting into her, until the pain finally forced her to a halt.

She took a trembling breath, failing to keep her tears from falling. Impatiently she wiped them away but her grief was as persistent as the bleeding of an unstitched wound. She had ignored the pain of losing the Grey Wizard for far too long and now it could no longer be pushed aside.

Leaning against the silver wood of a Mallorn tree, Elgarain closed her eyes and let the words of the song pierce her heart. The sting of loss was so foreign and yet she was instantly remembered of the pain she felt when losing her father. Of course, she hadn't expected all of them would come out of this battle unscathed. Yet losing Gandalf was something she never imagined to be possible. The Wizard had seemed a constant, a surety. She never could have begun to prepare herself to have him taken so suddenly. And if she felt his loss this heavily, she couldn't even begin to think of the grief the Hobbits must've been feeling...

It was the thought of the Halflings that got her moving again. They, along with the others, would be waiting desperately for news about Gyda's condition. She couldn't let them wait a moment longer, not while they were already mourning the loss of another friend.

Elgarain swallowed her remaining tears and picked up her pace. Though once she'd reached the bottom of the stairs, her step faltered. She'd seen Haldir lead the Fellowship onto the path to her right but he was charged with bringing them before Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Either they were still there, or they had been brought to a place to rest. Taking a breath, she decided to follow the path. She was bound to run into someone who would be able to tell her where she could find her friends.

As she followed the road of silver stones, the song of the Elves still echoed from all around her. Her grief wasn't burning as much anymore though, as if the words were a salve to dull the aching. Now it felt more like a bruise; sore and very much present but bearable.

She wandered for a while through the woods without seeing a soul. Strangely enough, she was comforted by the solitude. She hadn't been truly alone since they set out from Rivendell. It wasn't until now Elgarain realized she'd missed it, walking in peace with her thoughts her only company. Despite wishing to return to her companions as soon as possible, she slowed her pace enough to allow herself to enjoy her walk.

Lórien was a peaceful harbor, much like Imladris. Though the house of Lord Elrond felt less secluded and much more friendly to outsiders. But as one of the Eldar, Elgarain did not fear the ancient magic that lingered within the forest. It filled her bones with strength and her heart with courage. Everything she would need to eventually continue on their journey...

Her stomach twisted at the thought of leaving. She'd barely spend two days here and already she dreaded their departure. Being amongst her people again comforted her in ways she never would've dreamed of as a young Elleth. All she used to want was to be free, to run and feel the wind caressing her cheeks. Now, all she wished for was the comfort of home.

The thought of her kingdom flared inside her lungs with a burning ferocity. She admired the golden woods but they paled in comparison to the cliff sides and roaring sea of Lindon. The sight of the dawn turning the sea to gold and the havens into shades of soft pink would be forever branded into her very heart. She was a queen away from her kingdom, adrift in strange lands.

Since setting out from Rivendell they'd been constantly on the move. They had to be vigilant, careful, every moment of every day, which left little room for reminiscing about home. Finally, Lothlórien had granted her the gift to do so, and it made her heart ignite with yearning. Lindon was waiting for her return and she longed for nothing more than to do so. But her path was heading south, further and further away from the place she called home. She made this choice and now she had to see it through. At least she still had Gyda with her, though perhaps not for long...

Elgarain couldn't help but smile at the thought of her friend and the prince of Mirkwood. Despite not knowing all that transpired between them, it was impossible not to see the way they looked at each other. Or, in Gyda's case, the way she didn't look at him. Elgarain could only hope they managed to talk through whatever it was that was holding them back. If it had anything to do with Gyda's vow to protect her...Well, the High Queen might just need to have a word with the Head of her Guard.

Unintentionally, her thoughts drifted to her own conflicted heart. In the years after her stay in Imladris, she had managed to somehow convince herself her heart no longer belonged to Estel, to Aragorn. But if these last few weeks had shown her anything, it was that she'd been very wrong to think so. Not that it mattered. If they were to survive this war, they would go their separate ways again and she would have to forget him all over again...

With a sigh she came to a halt, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. Lack of a good night's rest was starting to catch up with her, making her thoughts wander to places she rather wouldn't go. It was time she found her way to the others. With determined steps, Elgarain came at last to the end of the path. An enormous Mallorn tree stood firmly rooted before her. At the top, through the roof of golden leaves, she could see a white palace, possibly Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's home. A staircase of silver wood curled upwards around the tree. Though the entrance to this one was guarded by a familiar face...

"Orophin?"

"Tarí Elgarain," the blond Ellon said as he placed his fist upon his heart and bowed.

With a smile she returned the gesture. "How good to see you again."

"And you, tarinya. Too many years have passed since my visit to Lindon."

The day of her coronation had been a great celebration. Emissaries from the Elven kingdoms all across Middle-Earth had come to witness the daughter of Gil-Galad claiming her rightful title. Orophin and his brother Rúmil were sent as representatives of Lothlórien. Elgarain would not easily forget their archery skills as they challenged Galion to a contest.

"Indeed," she replied. "I trust your brother is well?"

"He is, they both are."

Elgarain frowned. "Forgive me, I did not know you had more family."

Orophin simply shook his head with a smile. "There's nothing to forgive, tarinya. Our brother Haldir did not visit Lindon because of his duties as Head of the Galadhrim. Though I do believe you have met him upon your entry in the woods?"

A shiver crawled down her spine. "I did," she said, trying to drive the image of Gyda falling to the ground from her mind. "Though it was a rather turbulent meeting."

"So I've heard," Orophin said softly. "Haldir told me that Lord Elrond has taught you well in the ways of healing."

She chuckled dryly. "Oh, I doubt Lord Elrond would have approved of my methods."

"Still," the Ellon said, smiling slightly, "you saved your friend. That is all that matters."

"I suppose so," she replied with a sigh. "Speaking of my friend, I might be wrong but it seemed like she and Haldir knew each other?"

"They do, Haldir has told me many stories about the Last Alliance and the long march to Mordor. He fought alongside Gyda on the slopes of Mount Doom."

At the mere mention of the land, Elgarain felt her heart tremble with fear. She inhaled sharply to drive the shadows from her mind and nodded then. "I should've known," she said, more to herself than the Elf standing before her. "Actually, I was searching for my companions to tell them of Gyda's recovery. Do you know where I can find them?"

Orophin nodded, then pointed towards the left. "Keep the city wall on your left side and you will find a small glade, just behind a silver fountain." He frowned then. "We offered them our finest rooms but the Halflings insisted on sleeping on the ground."

Elgarain couldn't help but smile. Considering the homes the Hobbits lived in, it made sense they preferred the ground to the treetops. Still, judging by Orophin's frown, she would have to explain all the wondrous ways of the Hobbits for him to even begin to understand. But she decided to spare him such a tale, for it would probably turn out rather long.

"Annon allen, mellon nin," she said with a bow.

He returned the gesture. "Na lû e-govaned vîn, tarinya."

She walked along the silver stones for a while longer until finally the fountain Orophin had mentioned awaited her when she rounded the corner. She stepped off the path, walked around the basin of white marble and entered the small glade. The clearing was neatly tucked between the roots of two Mallorn trees, hidden from sight. Had she continued following the path, she would not even have seen it. Then, her ears picked up a familiar sound; the sweet summer voice of Samwise Gamgee.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks. There should be a verse about them."

At last, she had found where the fellowship had set up camp. The Hobbits were making up their beds between the strong roots of the trees. Boromir sat a bit further away from the others, seemingly lost in thought, while Aragorn and Gimli were seated around the remains of a small fire, smoking their pipes.

She lingered on the edge of the glade and watched as Sam got to his feet. He cleared his throat and cited: "The finest rockets ever seen. They burst in stars of blue and green. Or after thunder, silver showers came falling like a rain of flowers..." He sighed and sat back down. "Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road."

"Well, I thought it was beautiful," Pippin said, his voice small with lingering emotions.

"So did I," Elgarain replied softly, announcing her presence.

Four Hobbits, two men and a dwarf turned to look at her. They were clearly tired and filled with sorrow, yet their faces lit up with genuine happiness when they saw her. Elgarain felt her chest glow with the very same joy. This company had become her very life, all she breathed for. Seeing them again, unharmed, lifted a heavy weight from her shoulders. Though she was careful to avoid Aragorn's gaze, not quite ready to face his judgment of her healing methods.

"Elgarain!" Merry cried out as he got to his feet, followed suit by Pippin.

Two curly-haired Hobbits embraced her with a strength that made her stumble. She was quick to wrap her arms around them in return. But then, they both pulled away and started talking frantically over each other as they asked a thousand questions.

"We were so worried!"

"How is Gyda doing?"

"Is she dying?"

"I thought you were dying too when you healed her!"

"Frodo said you were using magic."

"Don't be stupid, she can't do magic."

"It wasn't me saying it!"

A laugh escaped her lips, she simply couldn't help it. The sound rang through the glade like the ringing of tiny bells. It felt genuinely good to be able to truly laugh again, as though her very heart had been set aglow. Upon hearing her, both Hobbits fell silent, looking up at her with apologetic eyes.

She smiled reassuringly. "She is well. She's awake now. It might take some time for her to regain her strength but I'm sure she will recover soon. Legolas is with her."

"The lass could recover with the power of her will alone," Gimli grumbled beneath his breath but his eyes shone with relief.

"That she could," Boromir agreed as he got to his feet and joined them.

Sam pointed at the small fire in the middle of the glade. "There's some food left, if you'd like, Miss Elgarain. You must be starving after working all day."

"You're absolutely right. I'd love some."

The delicious taste of a Hobbit meal could not be understated. Perhaps she should've done Orophin a favor and tell him all about the Hobbits after all. Perfectly seasoned and cooked with skilled fingers and a caring heart. As she ate, she could feel the weariness slowly leave her bones and her strength return. Though the rather thick silence that lingered didn't go unnoticed by her, as did the way Frodo's eyes kept flickering to the ring on her finger.

There wasn't any specific reason why she hadn't told her companions about the truth of the ring she carried. Maybe it was because she'd thought of it as her burden to carry. Vilya was her legacy, her responsibility. Every single one of them had joined this fellowship to protect Frodo and his burden. The thought of adding to their worries had never even crossed her mind.

Boromir had taken a seat next to her, nervously wringing his hands. A few times he seemed as though he wanted to speak, but every time he closed his mouth again, unable to find the words.

With a sigh Elgarain put her plate down and decided to provide them with the answers they so clearly wanted but didn't know how to ask for. "I'm sorry if I frightened you when I-" she cleared her throat, "when I did what I did to heal Gyda."

For a moment it seemed as if none of them would reply until Boromir finally found the words to speak. "May I ask," he began slowly, a frown on his face that made him look old beyond his years, "what was it exactly that you did?"

Elgarain inhaled deeply, her eyes turned to the fire in front of her, unable to look at them. "I discovered she was poisoned with Duáth but I had no idea how to heal such a poison. I'm not even sure it can be healed, seeing as orcs do not care much for remedies." She lifted her eyes, meeting Frodo's curious, but slightly frightened, gaze. "So, I entered the spirit realm and healed her fëa in order to save her hröa. Which I was able to do because of this."

She held out her hand. The blue sapphire wrapped in a band of gold glittered softly beneath the light of the moon and stars, as though it knew it was being watched.

"This is Vilya, the ring of sapphire, gifted to my father by Celebrimbor. Before he died, he passed it on to Lord Elrond. Who, in turn, gave it to me before we departed from Rivendell, to protect us on our journey."

Slowly the meaning of her words seemed to settle. She still hadn't taken her eyes off of Frodo, watching as he tried to process what she'd just told him. After all, as Ring-bearer, he was the only one capable of truly understanding the difficulty of sharing this with the others.

"Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky," Frodo muttered, staring at Vilya as though he was entranced. At last, he lifted his gaze to look her in the eye. "If Lord Elrond gifted you this ring, I have no reason to doubt his decision. And though I wish you had shared this burden with us sooner, I do understand why you chose not to." For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something else but he swallowed his words.

A trembling breath of relief left her lips. "I am glad to hear you say so."

"Aye, it's no trinket you carry, lass," Gimli said, seeming to have overcome most of his earlier shock. "Nonetheless, I am glad you carry it and I have no doubt our Elven friends would say the same."

She offered him a thankful smile, warmed by the trust that had grown between them. Once, she didn't believe such a thing to be possible but she was very grateful to have been proven wrong.

"You startled the skin from my bones, El," Boromir spoke softly from where he was still seated beside her. "But I am glad you came along as our healer."

Her smile widened until her eyes wandered to Aragorn, who hadn't said a single word since her arrival. Immediately her smile faltered, for his walls were drawn up again. His face was an unreadable mask as he got to his feet and looked them in the eye.

"We should all get some rest," he said, his gaze feeling like a heavy weight when it rested on her. "It's been a long day. These borders are well protected so rest while you can." Then, without another word or glance in her direction, he walked away.

"He's right," Boromir said as he got to his feet as well. He placed his hand on Elgarain's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Sleep well."

"You too," she said, though her smile had faded and she could not make it reappear.

After she helped Sam to clean up the plates and pans, she found a comfortable place to sleep between the thick roots of the Mallorn trees. And though she was exhausted, her sleep was restless. Dreams of dark ravines and black flowers plagued her. She tried to run away but her feet were stuck to the ground. She couldn't escape, never escape...

With a startled gasp her eyes opened and for a moment she felt disoriented. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Beneath the pale moonlight she could make out the sleeping figures of her companions. But it was only the soft snoring of the Hobbits and the much louder snores of Gimli that reassured her she was truly awake. She was about to close her eyes, hoping to fall into a dreamless sleep, when she caught the sound of voices softly conversing. Laying perfectly still she focused her hearing and realized it was Boromir and Aragorn.

"I will find no rest here," Boromir said softly, sounding almost scared. "I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor."

She knew immediately what he was speaking of. Many tales mentioned the gift of Lady Galadriel to see into people's hearts and minds, to speak with them without ever moving her lips. Boromir must have been very startled when she started speaking to him in his mind.

"She said to me, 'even now there is hope left.' But I cannot see it," he took a ragged breath, sounding like he was shaking all over. "It has been long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man but his rule is failing and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored."

She hadn't realized she'd been crying until she tasted the salt drops on her lips. His voice was filled with such homesickness that her heart trembled with pain. Had she not been thinking the exact same thing earlier that day? The same desire to see her home again, to protect it from all the evil that would now harm it? But they were both bound by their oath to this fellowship. There was no other path before them, none that would lead them home.

"Have you ever seen it, Aragorn?" Boromir continued, his voice filled with yearning and pride. "The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

"I have seen the White City," Aragorn replied softly, there was hesitation in his voice. "Long ago."

"One day, our paths shall lead us there," Boromir said hopefully. "And the tower guard shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"

This time, Aragorn didn't reply. Instead, she could hear Boromir as he got to his feet and walked over to where his sleeping mat lay ready on the ground. She frowned when Aragorn's footsteps did not follow. As soon as she was assured Boromir was asleep, she got to her feet. As quietly as only Elves could, she made her way across the glade.

Aragorn was still seated on the edge of the fountain, staring up at the few stars visible between the trees. In the blue shades of the night, he looked like a statue carved from marble. Suddenly her fingers itched for her drawing paper and pencil, wishing to capture every line and curve...

"Perhaps it would be wise to follow your own advice," she spoke softly, as she wrapped her arms around her chest against the chill of the night.

Upon hearing her voice, he turned to look over his shoulder. "Perhaps," he agreed as he got to his feet. However, in doing so, he'd failed to hide the way he was still leaning on his right leg to avoid putting weight on his wounded side.

"I see you still haven't let a healer take a look at that," she said, gesturing at his side. It hardly surprised her anymore. "Now that we're no longer getting chased by orcs, will you please just let me look at it?"

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he finally relented. "Very well."

"Thank you," she said, suppressing a smile of her own.

As quietly as she could, to prevent waking the others, she grabbed her healing equipment and made her way back to the fountain. She took a seat next to him, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed her every movement as she opened her bag.

"Take off your shirt," she ordered without even really thinking about it. Whenever she had to take on the role of a healer, there was no time for complicated thoughts.

He did as he was told, wincing slightly as he pulled the cloth over his head.

A purple bruise had formed on the left side of his chest, almost as large as the palm of her hand. Carefully she reached out and tenderly pressed her fingers against it. She didn't allow herself to think about the heat radiating from his skin.

Aragorn tensed, unable to contain a pained hiss.

"Does it hurt when you breathe in?" She asked as she inspected the area surrounding the bruise.

"It does."

Elgarain retracted her hand and looked up at him, pleased that her earlier diagnosis had been correct. "You have two broken ribs. My advice would be to strain yourself as little as possible the next few days. Try to sleep more upright the first few nights and walk around as much as possible." Then she reached for a bottle filled with a pearl-white salve. "This will help against the swelling," she explained as she put some on her hand.

She paused, looking up at him. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

His eyes held her gaze, his eyes so familiar yet filled with so many things hidden from her. "I promise."

She nodded, pleased. Then, as gingerly as she could, she applied the salve to his bruised skin, biting her lip to ignore the shivers running down her spine.

"Perhaps it would be wise if you listened to your own advice as well," Aragorn spoke softly, echoing her earlier words. "You took a great risk yesterday without any thought for your own safety."

She bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to look up at him as she continued applying the salve. "I'm aware," she muttered. This was exactly the conversation she'd hoped to avoid.

"Are you?" His voice was painfully sharp. "One mistake could have not only killed Gyda but yourself as well."

Sudden anger flared up inside her lungs. The days of her questioning her own skill were long gone. She looked up at him. "What other choice did I have? By all means, tell me."

"You should have told us what you were planning to do," Aragorn stated calmly.

She despised how he could manage to stay this calm while her entire body seemed to shake with anger. She'd much rather have he screamed at her than this icy, distant mask he wore.

"You would've tried to stop me."

"I would have."

"Why?" She snapped, unable to keep her anger contained. "There was no other choice or Gyda would have died. You have some skill as a healer, you know I'm right. So why then would you have tried to stop me?"

"Little is known about using one's fëa to heal someone else. It is a far too unpredictable method. Especially when you're doing it alone," he spoke through gritted teeth, as if having trouble reigning something in.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Her stomach was boiling with anger and it took her every bit of restraint not to scream in his face. "Did you not hear a word I said earlier? I wasn't alone, Vilya helped me."

Finally, a crack was starting to show in his calm and collected mask as he clenched his jaw. "The power of that ring could consume you. I will not stand by and watch you kill yourself in order to heal another."

"I'm a queen, Aragorn, I know my responsibility," she said coldly. Why was he still able to get under her skin this easily?

Then, for the first time since setting out from Rivendell, his mask shattered. He didn't shout, or even raise his voice but there was a thunderstorm brewing within his eyes. A look that would have sent any sane person running but not her...

"A responsibility you never wanted."

It felt as though she'd stepped out into a frozen lake, ice cold water spilling into her very veins. Her entire body was suddenly unable to move. She could scarcely breathe without frost crystallizing within her lungs. She'd expected him to say many things, she had imagined a thousand different conversations but never, not once, had she considered him saying something like this.

Many years had passed since she doubted her path, her ability to be queen. Her worst fears about not being capable enough to lead her people had been carefully buried inside. Slowly she had come to accept that she was a far better leader than she ever believed herself to be. And now, with one sentence, he had brought all those fears, those doubts, back to the surface again. He was still able to look into her very soul and he had chosen to lay it bare.

Suddenly she remembered the words he'd spoken to Legolas the night that the Wargs attacked. He'd feared her coming along...Was this the reason why? Because he believed her to be a child still?

"Is that what you think of me?" She asked, tonelessly. "That I joined this Fellowship out of some childish need to escape my duties as Tarí?"

At least he had the decency to look away from her this time. Regret was painted all over his features but that only angered her more. "That's not-"

"No need," she interrupted him. She stood up, careful to keep her face void of emotion. She refused to let him see how much his words had hurt her. "I suppose that is the curse of exile. It makes you forget why some of us do choose to honor their birthright."

He looked at her as though she had struck him and she couldn't smother the small ember of satisfaction she got from that. He could wish all he wanted to distance himself from her but she would always hold a piece of his heart. She was just as capable of hurting him as he was of hurting her.

With the soft rustling of her clothes, she got to her feet and walked away, not once looking back. She all but fled the clearing, not wanting anyone to see her tears. All she longed for was to find herself in lonesome solitude once again.

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

Guess what happens when you ignore your emotions for too long...you start fights and say things you don't mean. Honestly they just need a good make out session and all would be fine. But we can't have that now can we ;)

I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! At first, I struggled a bit with writing the fight scene between El and Aragorn. I knew what I wanted them to say but it was hard writing it down, you know? But I'm very satisfied with the end result. So please don't hesitate to share your thoughts with me!

See you all soon,

xx Nelly

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Tári ― Queen

Annon allen ― I give thanks to you

Mellon nin ― My friend

Na lû e-govaned vîn ― Until next we meet

Dúath ― Nightshade

Fëa ― Spirit or soul

Hröa ― Body