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━━━━»•» act one. age of ruins

06. my mother told me «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 2949

𓇻 eriador; imladris {rivendell}

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"AND HOW DOES THE FËA CONNECT TO THE HRÖA?" LORD ELROND ASKED AS HE PACED BACK AND FORTH IN HIS STUDY. All afternoon he had been asking her about the subject of the fëa. After years of studying the ways of the body, the hröa, Elrond had decided she was ready to move on to the studies of the spirit, the fëa. And though Elgarain was glad he trusted her with more advanced lessons, the subject required a delicacy she wasn't sure she possessed.

"Like a house needs an indweller, the hröa needs the fëa," she answered, remembering the texts she'd studied in preparation for this lesson. "The fëa is what gives life and meaning to the hröa."

Elrond nodded. "And what happens when death occurs?"

"Death is the separation of the two. The fëa is houseless and will return to where its allowed to rest," she replied.

"Good," Lord Elrond said and then walked to his own desk. He took several parchments and handed them to her. "Read this in preparation for our next lesson."

She took the pile and straightened them before getting to her feet, ready to leave the study when the door was opened and Lindir appeared.

"My Lord," he said with a bow of his head. "Aranel. We have a visitor. He wishes to speak with both of you."

"Let him in," Lord Elrond said.

Elgarain placed the parchments back on the table in front of her before turning to the door again. A tall figure entered the room, clothed in a grey cloak and wearing a pointy, grey hat. Most of his face was covered by a long grey beard but his twinkling blue eyes were just visible beneath his hat. He carried a wooden staff and Elgarain knew very well it wasn't merely for supporting him as he walked.

"Mithrandir," Elrond greeted him, confirming Elgarain's suspicions about the visitor.

The grey wizard, sent by the Valar to aid Middle-Earth in the never ending battle against the darkness. Among the Elves he was known was Mithrandir, though his more common name was Gandalf.

The wizard bowed before Elrond and then bowed to her as well. "Lord Elrond, Aranel," he greeted them both. "I bring news from the lands of Lindon," he said, then reached in his cloak and took out a small letter. "Your mother asked me to give you this." He offered it to her with a reassuring smile beneath the grey of his beard.

Elgarain took the letter and quickly placed it on the desk with the rest of the parchments, trying to conceal her trembling hands. It had been a long while since she heard anything from her homeland and the sudden mention of it filled her with a guilt she couldn't quite explain.

"Now I have some business to discuss with Lord Elrond, if you don't mind," the wizard said.

"Of course," she nodded, then gathered her parchments and left the two of them behind in the study. Though not before a quick glance over her shoulder at the tall grey figure of the wizard. He appeared to be much friendlier than he was described in the many tales she'd read about him.

She made her way to the library, where she took a seat and, with trembling hands, opened the letter. She feared the words but forced herself to read them anyway.

Dear Elgarain,

I miss you terribly and write you this letter to let you know that I think of you often. You are so much older now than when I last saw you. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if you look like me, or if you take after your father. Your spirit is so much like his...

I wish you would come back home soon, though I'm sure Lord Elrond could think of many more lessons to teach you before you are ready. I do hope you don't make it too difficult for him (though I hope he does not make it too difficult for you either, but perhaps it would be best not to mention I said such a thing).

Our borders have been safe for about a year now. The raids have lessened and our guard managed to drive most of the orcs to the mountains, or kill them. We have rebuilt and are now finally starting to heal from the war all those years ago. I have done all I can to help our people. They are ready for you, hínya. I am sure you still have your doubts, you always had.

Your father once told me that you could be the Queen our people need to lead them back to the light after the dreadful darkness they suffered. Because you were our light, so pure and untouched by the horrors of this world. You are so much stronger than you believe my dear Elgarain and I wish for nothing more than for you to see it as well.

I hope you will come home soon and consider taking the crown you have spent so long preparing for. I have no doubt that you are ready and will give our people the future they deserve.

With love,

Your mother

With a shaky breath she put the letter down, her eyes lingering on the view of the waterfalls in the distance as her mind spun with a thousand thoughts. She felt so far from ready. The path before her seemed endless and there were so many things she still wished to know, but she also knew she could not hide in the valley of Imladris forever. Some things she couldn't learn through the study of books and parchments, some things she had to experience first-hand. She could prepare as much as she wanted for the crown, but she would never be truly ready. The real lesson would come after she took the throne.

"Your mother seemed convinced you were returning home soon," a deep voice spoke up from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to see Gandalf had entered the library. He was watching her with an unreadable expression in his age old eyes. He was leaning on his staff as though time had finally caught up with him, but she knew for a fact he was more than able to fight if needed.

"Does she speak the truth?" Elgarain questioned. "Are the borders safe?"

Gandalf walked over to her and joined her on the bench by the windows. He took his time to answer, thinking over his words before finally speaking them out loud to her. "Nowhere is truly safe anymore, Elgarain. Danger lurks in the shadow, waiting for us to let down our guards so it can attack."

The words were foreboding and left a cold chill crawling down her spine. When she was younger she was naïve enough to believe evil had disappeared when Sauron was defeated. But then she was attacked by orcs on the road and learned the hard way there would always be danger waiting for the innocent. Since then she had learned to recognize evil and even learned how to fight it, both with her sword and with her medical skills.

"I just-" she stopped herself, not sure if she should tell the old man this but the friendly spark in his eyes made her continue anyway. "To this day I doubt if I am the right leader for my people.." Her gaze went to the parchment containing her mother's words that she had so hurriedly tossed aside. Even her mother was aware of her doubts and yet her path remained unchanged. The crown was waiting for her and for her alone.

"We all have times we doubt the path that lays before us," Gandalf spoke and somehow he was able to sound both stern and kind. "But our doubts are lessons to prepare us, not signs we are not capable."

She considered the words for a moment and knew then her mother had meant to say the same thing in her letter. She had doubted herself all her life, always wondering if she was good enough. Whether those doubts concerned her royal duties or something as simple as being a good artist, she had always believed herself to be lesser to others.

Not once did she consider those doubts to be something she could use as lessons, instead of a sign she was not capable of achieving everything she was meant to be. She just wished she could ask her father if he ever had his doubts about being King...

"Did you ever meet my father?" She asked, hoping the wizard might have another answer ready for her.

But he shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he answered, smiling at her like he could read her very mind. "But even the greatest kings have their doubts, Aranel."

He watched her, amused, as she searched for words.

"Do you plan to return to Lindon?" She finally asked.

"My path leads east but your mother knows this. She is not expecting an answer." Before she could feel relieved, he added, suddenly sounding stern; "At least not for a few years."

She could have expected that and yet the thought filled her with dread. She couldn't take forever to decide whether her place was here or in Lindon. She had lived longer in Rivendell than she had in the palace of Mithlond. She had talked more about being Queen than she had actually practiced her duties. Of course she couldn't let another age go by while she remained hidden and in doubt. Her people did not deserve that from their queen.

"You have much to learn, Elgarain," Gandalf said as he got back to his feet. "But you will make a good Queen in time, of that I have no doubts." Then he left the library, disappearing as suddenly as he had arrived.

Elgarain gathered her papers and made her way to her room. There she dropped everything on the table in the corner, then quickly gathered her drawing equipment and rushed to the gardens. She needed to empty her thoughts and clear her mind. She needed the peaceful silence of the gardens to gather herself and calm her aching heart. Aerien's letter left her in fear of having to return home soon, of becoming Queen sooner than she had anticipated. And not even Gandalf's words could kill her doubts completely.

The pencil seemed to have a will of its own as she drew the familiar lines of the land she once called home. It had been so long since she'd smelled the salt air, saw the blue mountains and the green hills. So long that she almost feared she'd forgotten what it looked like. But her hand remembered and transported her back to the place of her childhood.

"If you're not careful you might just stab your parchment," an amused voice broke through her concentration.

She looked up to see two sparkling grey eyes watching her and only then did she notice the way she had almost aggressively drawn the landscape of Lindon. She'd drawn dark skies and stormy winds to fit perfectly with the raging storm that seemed to have made itself at home inside of her.

"Thank you for warning me," she said as she put the parchment aside.

He frowned at her. "Did something happen?"

"A letter from my mother arrived," she shrugged, not wanting to bother him with her worries.

But he seemed determined to make her worries his own. "And she angers you?"

Elgarain took a deep breath. "She expects things of me that I don't think I can carry." She had no idea if Estel knew she was royalty and expected to return home one day to be crowned Queen. And, for now, she had no intention of telling him. He was the only person she'd known so far who didn't refer to her by her title and it felt oddly liberating.

Estel studied her for a moment and she shifted, not knowing why his grey eyes made her feel as though he could read her very soul. He opened his mouth but she spoke before he could:

"Take me somewhere."

She had enough of people trying to counsel her for today and drawing hadn't helped. She needed to feel the wind in her hair and be reassured that she was still free. Even if it was only for a short while.

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Where?"

She got to her feet. "Anywhere."

His smile widened. "As you wish."

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𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

This week's update is a little earlier because I'm going on vacation to Paris for a few days!

Gandalf has officially made an appearence! I loved adding this grumpy grandpa to the story and I hope you guys enjoyed reading his conversation with Elgarain.

Also, I already adore Aragorn and Elgarain and I cannot wait to show you guys the next chapter. See you soon!

xx Nelly

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Fëa ― Spirit or soul

Hröa ― Body

Aranal ― Princess

NOTES ON LORE:

Fëa & hröa ― Fëa and hröa (fëar and hröar in plural forms) are Quenya words for "soul" (or "spirit") and "body". According to the Elves, the fëa is powerless without the hröa, and likewise the latter would die without the former.