11 | Worse Than Dorwinion

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???????? | The CEO

Location: The Shard, London, UK, Earth

Time: August 2027

A sleek new Jaguar pulled into the side of the pavement, halting at the designated space before the valet opened the door at the passenger seat.

At that moment a man stepped out of the car, his black Oxford shoes matching the car as he took the first out. As the man who stood before him bowed his head curtly, the figure who exited stayed silent and took a moment of breath to inhale the warm air around him.

He then adjusted the shades perched upon the bridge of his nose, a little uncomfortable despite begrudgingly having to wear them due to circumstance, before beginning to stride across the open plan as he headed towards the main entrance of the great glass building. There were people bustling about, busy during the middle of the day due to their work. All wore a various array, with shades from black suits to white gliding dresses to the usual construction working in bright neon vests and white hard hats.

(He always wondered how those plastic helmets would ever help with protecting your head, they looked rather breakable compared to metal ones.)

For quite a tall man, it didn't take him long to arrive at the door where several securities were already ready. Though the moment their eyes laid on him, they quickly darted away from his path and welcomed him through. He mentally snorted at the rather stupid uniform they wore, confused how a black suit would help them from getting hurt. Though he may understand the weaponry hidden in their jackets, a mere stunner or gun would not help.

He was finally inside the large bland building when a man approached him. A middle-aged man in the same black suit, hair already fading from his wrinkled head as he nodded curtly.

"Good day, Sir." He introduced holding out his hand, "Welcome to The Shard." [1]

Glancing down at his hand, he simply stared back at the man. He could sense the fear and nerves already radiating from him.

Or perhaps it was the sweat already growing upon his forehead and he had to refrain as much as he could not to sneer at the pathetic excuse of the man.

When the man before him realise he did not respond, he awkwardly pulled his hand back before he cleared his throat – gesturing now to follow him and an array of his security and other workers down a corridor towards the lifts.

"Sir, we have your office prepared and ready." The same man began to explain to him as the lift went up, babbling on with a hint of nervousness lingering. "And the board is willing to meet you later in an hour whilst you have a meeting with the British Government just after midday tomorrow. As well as another hour slot with the UN Ambassador and coordinator just after the board."

Once the metal doors slid open, he was met with an open plan of an office, with multiple corridors and glass walls lining around them. People were bustling about, the sound of machines whirling about and the clicks of heels against the carpet. But as he strode past them, no one dared to obstruct his path nor even spoke indifferently other than a curt nod and short greeting.

Inside he felt the power already fueling his ego, the power he had under these people despite his appearance was gladdening. He could only hope they were equally as helpful as those who solely were under his command.

The group began to disperse, only leaving the first man who greeted him at Reception. As they arrived at the double doors of what seemed to be his office, he paused.

"Mister Hartling, is it?" He remained placid as he stopped, making the person he called out swivel in front of him.

The middle-aged man's face wavered and refrained from breaking. But from his eyes, he already knew the nerves. He spoke, "Y-yes. Sir."

"Leave me." He told him by the door of his office, eyeing the man once more as he nonchalantly added: "And I suggest you stop with that stumbling. It is not something one of my coordinators should act."

Hartling looked in a mix of constipation and anger before he stiffly nodded and walked away – leaving him finally to relax as he shut the door of his office.

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A couple of hours and a meeting later, the man leaned forward from the leather chair and reached for the bottle beside the two glasses. He picked up the wine, pouring one before the others he groaned slightly at the aches of his back.

"The skin of the Secondborn are the worst. How the One even created them baffles me." He complained bitterly.

Across the large glass desk sat a woman, her icy blue eyes staring back at the red liquid. Once he was done, he lifted one to give to her who gladly took it from his grasp.

She rose her eyes slightly, nonchalantly replying, "They are not so bad."

With a clink of a glass, they gave each other a toast.

Taking a sip of the bitter drink, he was disappointed it didn't burn his throat. In a way, it almost tasted like juice. Whatever juice was. Eyeing her, he smirked, "Should you not be on the way here, Dr Jacobs?"

The woman before him stared above the rim of her glass, her eyes momentarily glittering before she placed the wine down. Dr Niobe Jacobs looked immaculate, her hair neatly pulled back in a bun, her face painted in human cosmetics. Her rouge lips matched the colour of her clothes.

Her eyes darted across the open wall of glass surrounding them, eyeing the small metal contraptions below. She sneered in distaste, "I will not use those pathetic contraptions." Dr Jacobs shivered, causing him to internally smirk in amusement. "Despite months of adjusting to whatever this is, though her blood does taste delicious."

"I love the feeling of their bones being crushed, actually." He recalled, hoping that this evening he would have the lovely opportunity. Especially after meeting Mister Hartling, it might compensate for that poor excuse of the man.

He noticed the shrewd expression the blonde woman he received as she said, "You are disgusting—"

That was then halted by the knock on his office door.

With a quick stern gaze at her, he stood up to head towards the door.

"Enter." Answering back, the door creaked open, just in time as he glanced back to where the woman was – all that was left were an empty seat and one glass of wine down.

One of the assistants who followed him once they entered the Shard poked their head inside, their face growing slightly nervous as they informed him of what they wanted.

"Sir, one of your coordinators wants to just speak with you if that is alright," they told him.

With a firm nod, he requested, "Send them in." As he headed back to his desk, he turned around as he sensed the click of shoes and the door shutting close. With a slight grin, he turned to face them: "Ah...Ms. Warden. A pleasure to meet you."

Standing before him was another woman, her appearance contrasting Dr Jacobs. Whereas the woman he had just seen beforehand was as cold as winter, with pale skin light eyes and fair hair, Ms Halle Warden was the warmth of summer. With dark hair and hazel skin, she wore a black suit accented with green alongside the empty ring finger which he noticed quite well as she hastily moved to feel it.

He had yet met this woman, but from what he had learned from studying the names and the people he was going to work with – Ms Warden was amongst those who stood out.

For good a thing? That was far from the reason for it.

"Mister...Goldwyn." Hazel-tinted eyes didn't even flinch before him as she spoke, "I hope you are settling well with the new office. Though with so much work to go I was hoping to get you all set with the layout of the office—"

"Do not worry, Ms Warden. I have plenty of those who would care for these," He brushed off, deciding now to begin moving away – hoping that she would merely cower from his brashness and dismiss herself.

However, it would seem the girl had more confidence than most. She stood fixated at her spot, with a firm voice as she called, "As one of your coordinators of the departments, I must be able to foresee all preparations—"

"Which will be under the care of Dr Jacobs." He sighed, watching the flare of annoyance in her. To him, he was amused at her attempts. But now it was irritating him, no less bordering into suspicion as she continued to keep her presence around him much longer than most. So instead he tightly told her the next thing, "You will be assigned to her once she arrives and we have agreed publicly that our work in bringing in money to invest in technology."

Her determined face faltered, her eyes darting across the desk and back at him. She cleared her throat, "Dr Jacobs...I was not aware, sir."

No. None of them was.

"Plans must change." Mister Goldwyn answered with a bland smile, imitating some assurance. "You will be aiding with the project soon as we know many would be arriving to ensure our progress has been made."

He noticed then how her posture changed, immediately going rigid before she nodded silently.

"Of course." Ms Warden informed, unbeknownst to him that he caught her jaw tightening. "I will get to it now. Sir."

As he nodded in return, he kept his eyes trained as she left the office, immediately bringing his fake smile into a frown.

There was a moment of silence.

With a short breath, he bluntly spoke, "She's gone." There was the sound of glass hitting the table, his hair flowing as a sped-like motion appeared before him. "Reminds me of that girl."

Appearing in thin air, Dr Jacobs returned to her seat – wine glass gone from her hand as she narrowed her gaze up to him.

"Who?"

With a scowl, he answered plainly: "Someone which I heard of once." He eyed the door once more as he paced in the large open space.

Soon Dr Jacobs frowned before her expression turned into a sneer. She said, "She needs to stay away from our work."

No doubt that was certain, Goldwyn knew Halle Warden would not be too much of a hassle to deal with...unless they leave her to her own devices. But already sensing the familiar scent lingering and the suspicious looks the young woman had, he knew as well that he had to take action sooner or later. She was a liability to their plans. And if she discovers what they were planning to do and share it amongst people...this may all be of a foil.

But unlike others, like Dr Jacobs, he understood when to intervene when a pawn in the game starts to rebel against their territory. And he also knew that even the smallest players were vital assets.

And with Ms Warden, there was more potential in achieving what they wanted from this world.

"Or perhaps she may be of use." Goldwyn drawled, turning his heels to look out upon the city. "Considering that from here, a Mister Elliot Madden has unexpectedly asked for a week's worth of holiday."

"Elliot Madden." Her voice slowly echoed around the room. She continued, "The man with those...Quendi."

A sharp inhale left his mouth, a sensation of cold entering him. He still was not used to this form at all. If he had the chance, it would be a wonder to explore the world before him. The world in which the race of Men was able to build and improve. Far from the Secondborn of their world.

And once they were able to complete their mission – perhaps they would take whatever contraptions and works they created here and use it to their advantage. To which was always been what their master had wanted them to do at the beginning.

Though unlike Warden, to which he could control, he disliked that one of his pawns escaped.

That Elliot Madden was a vital danger to them. He had to make sure to monitor him and ensure he doesn't affect their job.

"Indeed. And I believe he knows where our goal is." Goldwyn said with slight disappointment.

There was a pause before the woman in the room questioned him, "What about the Fëanorian." There was pure intrigue and concern over her tone as she asked, "And the woman with the wizard."

He eyed down at the endless buildings of metal and brick before he gazed before the horizon beyond, remembering the call he had taken a day ago to find the two people he needed to gain access to. One had been found across the mass of ocean whilst the other was at the same place they had sent their little present to the Fëanorian and sorceress.

"Oh, they'll be sorted out soon." He simply spoke, turning his head around as he smiled towards her, "You should get ready. We have plenty of guests arriving and Dr Jacobs will be very surprised to see them."

For a moment he noticed the sharpness of her teeth upon her grin until she disappeared in a whoosh of wind. It was that moment he returned to look upon his office towards the city of London, eyes blazing in excitement on what was to come.

The next few days were going to be ever so much fun.

So much fun...

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Arwen Undómiel | The Evenstar

Location: Isengard, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

Isengard was in ruins...which was something she would expect from dozens of Ents deciding to go to war against a traitorous Ithron.

Arwen gripped the reigns tightly, easing the distress that her horse companion had. It would not be every day in which an elf or anyone would find themselves in the presence of Yavanna's most ancient creation let alone guardians of the trees. Her mother's childhood stories about the Ents of Fangorn Forest and of Beleriand weren't just tales, they were here and so little few of them.

A sudden sensation crawled up her spine as she stared up at the sky.

The darkened stone of Orthanc appeared like a shadow propped up in the night, causing the darkness to spill out through the ripple of water. Only the starlight showed enough, the light reflected upon the murky waters that now flooded the place.

Whilst the rest were in awe of the Ents who wandered the abandoned fortress, the voices of Pippin and Merry entering their ears in surprise and relief, all Arwen could think about was the energy radiating all over the area.

Just like Ravenhill: it felt as if a residue of ancient power lingered.

She could feel it edging within her fëa, making herself hide her shudder as she continued to follow the entourage of Théoden King, Lord Eomer and Mithrandir through the ruins. Remnants of various weapons and bodies. A mix of their modern weaponry and those of Earth, they appeared to be either broken or embedded upon the rubble atop the water and debris of stone, mud, and wood.

Gradually they got closer towards the tower as Arwen's eyes continued to linger downwards towards the bottom of Orthanc. The familiar sensation of the energy getting closer.

As she noticed a dark and red-figure run up to them and greet them all with relieving smiles and exclamations, Arwen caught them back with a quick look before she hopped off her horse – soaking her leggings and the bottom of her robes. She waded through the calf-height water, her eyes never leaving the odd spot just behind some cranking wheel.

Whilst she heard Aragorn probably racing to stop her from getting any closer to the tower, Arwen pushed through until she sensed the energy's presence just before her feet. She bent down stuck her hand in, making an affirmative sound once she felt the rectangular object around her fingertips.

When she lifted it out and shook it – her eyes slightly widened.

Grasped around her hand was her mother's earth device: her phone.

Arwen whispered under her breath, "They were here." She eyed up towards the tower. "Naneth and Maedhros."

Though why was her mother's phone all the way here? Surely nothing had happened too badly.

She immediately forced back that notion and locked it in the most bottomless closet in her mind. There was a reason why there were moments she could find herself being pulled away into the dark and that was thinking so negatively of her family. Arwen had to trust her hope that she was fine and that whatever the reason her phone was here was perhaps during some fight.

Or perhaps Maedhros had enough of Illyria Strange's constant misuse of it.

Arwen dried it with the edge of her cloak, shaking it to make sure there wasn't any trapped water before she tried to turn it on. To her amusement – and amazement – the screen brightened up: showing something to make her heartache.

On the screen was a vivid painting of her family. A photograph that included herself with her brothers on each side both squeezing her into the frame. Behind them standing were her parents, smiling to the camera whilst Uncle Glorfindel stood beside her father. On her mother's side was Uncle Maedhros.

Why does she remember this you may ask?

It was in the fact that Aragorn had taken the picture and it had taken so long to do it that Legolas had done it and almost blinded himself with the flashing light on the lenses whilst tackling for said phone.

And why Aragorn was pulled in at the last moment, only a part of him poking just beside Elrohir with an awkward smile.

She couldn't help but silently smile fondly, the pain of missing them making her clutch the phone tightly upon her chest before she heard several figures walk towards her. Standing at an alarming height, Arwen rose a brow at the dwarf prince.

She could have sworn he was shorter.

Kili greeted her with a curt nod and a smile, nudging his chin back up to the tower as he spoke, "They were." He continued, humming questionably. "There was also another person. A sorcerer, maybe?"

With her spine growing cold, Arwen questioned the dwarf prince and the silvan elf: "What was their name?"

Tauriel, who appeared slightly dishevelled but nevertheless cleaner than the dwarf beside her, looked at her with slight worry. She shook her head and said with dismay, "We do not know. Only that he wanted something that Saruman took."

Only one thing struck from Arwen's mind and she glanced back at the phone that she had now placed inside the pockets of her robes.

But before she could speak her mind, there were several splashes coming her way. Wading swiftly across the murky waters, the rather taller and young hobbit head her way. The ends of his Lothlorien cloak dripping wet as Pippin bounced and exclaimed, "Oh yes!" He nodded, gesturing his arms out in a round motion. "There was a blinding light, and then we saw the White Wizard spurt out and land atop the tower. After that, he's been up there with that other one for the entire time."

As he pointed up to the top of Orthanc, the rest of them looked up.

Arwen's chest grew cold as she glanced to where Aragorn arrived. He halted slightly away from her, though close enough to give her a surprised look.

They knew exactly who Pippin meant.

"Lokachari..." She said breathlessly, immediately sensing the presence of the Ithron that waded towards them. Arwen asked the Maia, "Mithrandir, you knew of this?"

Gandalf only gave her a look of sympathy, his eyes showing truth whilst he revealed: "He told me that he wished for me to not reveal where he was. For reasons I cannot explain, only for him or your mother could tell you."

A frown formed on her lips. There was a churning of discomfort in her stomach when she tried to think of what it all meant. Why would she be involved of such things? Did Lokachari know her family more than she believed to be? And if so, how much of a potential risk was he then to them? At this point, Arwen was beginning to dislike the empty blanks between the questions her subconsciousness was screaming at her.

Days ago she thought succumbing to using her powers was perhaps the peak of knowing more about the mysteries of her family's powers.

But now Lokachari knew something about them that not only involved them but Saruman as well.

Arwen ground her teeth as she glanced away from Gandalf, deciding to pan her surroundings. Even without closing her eyes, she noticed the lingering magic around them. Like a residue upon the air, water, and earth around them, it fed through her body as she noticed the transparency between material and astral plane.

She had to thank her mother again for teaching her to sense her surroundings better than most, her eyes lifting higher and higher until she reached the top of Orthanc where most of the magic was concentrated.

But the magic...it was far beyond what she thought her mother could possess but was still the same.

As if a star had exploded and left a scorching mark upon existence.

"She is not here. I can't sense her," Arwen whispered, wading closer towards the tower to get more of a sense of what was upon it.

As she walked over, Aragorn called out to her with worry. "Arwen, don't."

Soon enough she paused, eyes narrowing then to meet the darkened gaze of someone she hadn't seen in months.

Standing at the top of Orthanc was Saruman, his white robes shimmering in a ghastly array of colours against the moonlight. Arwen didn't trust her eyes, knowing enough to never trust anyone proficient in such illusions. Though by how tired he appeared, and the broken feeling of magic surrounding the traitorous Ithron – it all seemed to be real.

But with that: that just made it even more concerning.

He held one hand on his staff, staring down at her as if he was attempting to pierce through her mind. Arwen immediately shut her thoughts away, grounding her teeth slightly as she could feel a warmth stretch her chest.

The last she had seen Saruman the White was when she was back in Rivendell, forced through the Astral Dimension to find herself in his search for the Silmaril. Seeing Gandalf almost unconscious and dirty upon the floor, blood still fresh on his clothes, Arwen felt the inner part of herself grow with anger. She knew exactly what he had wanted.

To get under her skin. With every member of her family.

Saruman's smile wasn't pleasant, a dark undertone as his voice echoed down to them. "Ah, Undómiel. We meet again." He hummed, peering down at her. "Though I had a lovely encounter with your mother as well as Maedhros Fëanorion."

Arwen remained silent. She wasn't going to fall into his trap.

Yet he continued, exclaiming back: "She was too late!" Saruman grinned, almost pride in his voice. "Her revelation tore her. You felt it did you not? Her true form...much like yours."

It was there her mental and emotional shields slightly faltered.

What had happened to her mother here? What did he mean about her true form?

Of course, Arwen wasn't ignorant. She always knew that she wasn't exactly purely elven. The whispers in both her home and Lothlorien spoke for it.

But why did the White Wizard speak about her true form?

She wanted to ask more questions. Her curiosity getting to her and perhaps into danger hadn't the new White Wizard loudly retorted from beside her and Aragorn.

Gandalf gazed up to the other Ithron and declared, "That is enough Saruman!" His voice almost rippled through the area, snapping Saruman's effect back in a flash. "Not even our order will forgive what you have done. Not even your mentor will welcome you!"

Thinking that it would change the subject – that was far from what they all thought.

A disgusted snarl left Saruman's mouth, "And you think yours will forgive her kind?" He jutted his staff, pointing right at her as he shouted, "These...Perainur! They are no more than a disgrace after what Melian had done, accepted her daughter's choice in giving up her mortality. And now we allow such kind to traverse with such power. Power in which only our father had given to us only?" [2]

That was a cold pit sunk from her chest and down into her stomach. She tried to hide it easily, but as soon as a breath left her mouth the idea began to sink in.

Perainur...

Half-Ainur.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Was it possible her mother was Aini all along? And if so: how was that possible? Surely they would have known. The people around them would have discovered it.

But it wasn't that which made her feel uneased about it all. Arwen noticed the alarmed and angered expression Gandalf was now placing.

"They are alive, they were born and so they were designed by Eru Ilúvatar himself, Saruman." The Ithron spoke.

Saruman sneered – his eyes boring into her's, "A mistake. Just like how you should not possess such power...half breed."

There was then an uproar of protests around her. Beside her, Aragorn's hand was immediately reaching for her's whilst Tauriel and Kili looked ready to aim their bows alongside Legolas. As for Pippin and Merry, they were glaring up to Saruman, all whilst Gimli was barking back for the disgraceful insult.

Théoden King was the last to react, shouting back from his horse: "Care for your words wizard, I shall have your tongue cut out for the disrespect of the lady!"

All of a sudden a hapless bark of laughter left Saruman's mouth.

"You trust so easily Théoden King!" Saruman cackled, "Under such name as the Evenstar...daughter of the Oialëa."

She almost forgot then that the past few days (almost coming into a week), both Eomer and Théoden King only knew her as Elenníca Ettelëa. But in fairness, her epessë wasn't known in the mortal realms of Middle Earth.

But the Oialëa was.

Arwen could sense the surprise in both of their minds, trying to ignore the suspicions they now had in their heads whilst she remained looking up of Orthanc.

However, the wizard wasn't done yet as he continued on: "And yet under your very nose is the heir...yes. The heir of Isildur. Heir of Gondor." That was where Arwen felt her heart drop as she glanced at her beloved. Saruman questioned harshly, "Do you trust the spawn of the Peraini when they have forsaken you? She will leave such as I, whilst all of you will perish!"

Aragorn's face remained unchanged. But inside, she knew the nervousness. So she reached quietly to him, grasping his callous hand upon her own. Arwen gave his hand a squeeze, sensing his silent response with the same motion.

"Your words are not in effect no more!" Gandalf finally proclaimed back, worriedly sensing the fear now upon Saruman's aura.

But the former White Wizard bit back and hid his fear, and Arwen couldn't help but be more cautious as he continued, "Ignore my words." Saruman's voice imbedded into her mind: "But understand, Arda will fall...whether it be her kind or the dark Vala himself."

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Location: Meduseld, Edoras, Rohan, Middle Earth, Arda

She watched the room be crowded and filled with people. A mix of different kinds of people. People from Rohan mingled with one another whilst others slowly began to open to the new visitors who were technically their neighbours.

When they had been completed and rested, most of the people from Helm's Deep either returned to their homes across the land or travelled back to Edoras with the majority of the population. Alongside the people of Rohan were the Gondorian soldiers, gladly returning with them and establishing some sort of alliance. It wasn't until Arwen and those who came to Isengard and came back was when the tides had turned.

The first thing she was welcomed into the city of Edoras were the people from Snowbourn. Gondorians integrated gradually with the people of Rohan. Arwen had immediately recognized the nurses, women and children curiously coming up to them when they returned. She was relieved and happy to see them again, hearing the children's voices calling out to her in either Westron or broken Sindarin at her.

Legolas had leaned across to her as they rode up to Théoden King's halls, winking back with a smile, and told her that she must have had an impact with the people in Gondor whilst they were gone. In front of her, Kili and Tauriel eyed her with surprise whilst the former retorted saying it was bound to happen considering who she was.

Edoras sat upon a grand hill upon a large plain. The White Mountains behind them upon the south whilst there was an open landscape stretching from East to West. Arwen couldn't help but admire the simple yet ornate decoration of Meduseld, admitting to Tauriel that she had never really known of the culture of the Rohirrim – only of the written works and information from merchants coming through Lothlorien and Rivendell.

Thankfully both Kili and Tauriel were on the same page as her, remaining quiet as Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn updated them with such other information.

It was there they had settled, and for once Arwen found warmth and comfort under a roof after over a month of constant travelling and sleeping either under the stars or inside a tent. Along with the remaining Fellowship, Arwen was offered a room which she shared with Tauriel and several other Rohirric women working in Meduseld. She felt slightly sheepish about taking space when others needed it more, but apparently, Théoden King and his niece insisted on it, considering she did kill all those orcs and their enemies.

To which Arwen still couldn't comprehend.

Or just anything from the past week or so.

It was why everything felt like a fever dream. This party Théoden King had hosted once they had all returned. He had toasted both the Gondorians and his people before everyone broke into song and laughter.

In the beginning, Arwen did her best to mingle and please others. Of course, it was something she was always so good at - something which she both obtained from her parents.

However: it was hard to lay back and enjoy it all when all Arwen could think of was what Saruman said.

Or more accurately: what he didn't say.

The atmosphere was lively, with many eating, drinking, and dancing. Despite the winter weather, the place was roaring hot, forcing her to have to shed some layers and simply wear her robes without the outer coat and cloak. She cradled a cup which she had been given at the beginning of the celebration, only halfway drinking as she watched the place unfold.

It wasn't that she was glad that most of them were back together again. Of course, Arwen's mind was still hoping for both Frodo and Sam to be still alive, but everybody seemed to be laid back and at ease.

All but her.

And at the right moment, the universe seemed to be at her back as a voice caught her off her thoughts.

Out of all the noise around her, Arwen was surprised she recognized the healer's voice. Tazhin appeared beside her, her arms folded over her chest. She had discarded her travelling and fighting clothes to her healer robes, the sigil of the White Tree of Gondor upon her clothes.

She hadn't seen the healer since she arrived, only hearing from Boromir that Tazhin had been incredibly busy over the past few days. Busy with the rest of the healers from not only Gondor but Rohan as well. Apparently, her name had been whispered across the camp, praised for saving the Captain of Gondor as well as fighting against the Army of Saruman.

But standing next to her, Arwen could tell that the healer didn't care for anything others said about her. They both shared a mutual agreement with one another, understanding how different they were from the people around them.

With her eyes searching her, Tazhin stated: "Something troubles you." Her eyes roamed the hall as she asked Arwen: "How was your trip to the wizard's tower? Did you find her?"

She remembered that she told Tazhin why she wanted to go with Aragorn and Gandalf to Isengard, along with Legolas, Gimli, Théoden King and Lord Eomer. Briefly, she explained why Arwen believed her mother could be there, only for Tazhin's confusion to grow but simply shrugging it off.

Arwen stifled a sigh and responded, "Only the White Wizard and his servant. My mother is now gone, somewhere I do not know."

There was a look of sympathy from Tazhin, though before she changed into an encouraging expression and gestured, "Come on, let's not dawdle in the corner of the room." With her hand, Tazhin ushered her out of the space and led her through the crowd.

Arwen didn't protest; it wasn't fair for the rest of them for her to brood. So as she and Tazhin headed around, the shorter woman flicked her head and shouted at the figure who was standing beside the end of a long table. "Lord Boromir!"

The Gondorian captain noticed them immediately, his eyes growing slightly wide. Arwen internally smirked as his face faltered slightly, unbeknownst to either of them that his cheeks turned slightly pink once his gaze never left Tazhin.

Nevertheless, Boromir smiled and offered kindly to them: "Lady Tazhin. Lady Elenníca. Come and join us."

Within the groups of people, Arwen was met by several of the Fellowship sitting with one another. She could hear Merry and Pippin enjoying themselves at the other long table, singing a song that must have been from the Shire. Though amongst them, she couldn't see where Aragorn or Gandalf was and Arwen could only assume that they were both keeping an eye with either the hobbits or brooding once more.

(She might as well blame her beloved for picking up that certain habit. Next time she has the chance she would let him know.)

Though anyhow, Arwen sat down, squidged upon the end beside the red-haired elleth followed Boromir who carefully nestled his now slung arm in front of him.

Tauriel glanced towards her and Tazhin before she nudged her chin towards the four people sitting and standing opposite the table. "They are competing with the most drinks." She said with amusement, teasing back with a loud whisper towards her, "I'm here to make sure Kili doesn't embarrass himself."

Legolas seemed to have heard it, failing to hide his mirth with his smirk whilst Gimli roared with laughter.

An offended sound left Kili's mouth, jerking his arm suddenly and making splashed of ale hit the table. He harrumphed, "Oi! I have you know I am very good at it nowadays, especially after drinking your father's awful wine."

Arwen bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't think of it awful...but the first time tasting Dorwinion she almost spat it out right in front of the Mirkwood delegates over a millennium ago. It could have gone worst, especially when both her brothers were there and planned to prank them. All whilst their father was tried his hardest not to bark at them or facepalm at their antics.

She and the twin's personality deep down would always be on the laid-back side, hinting upon the fact that their uncle always noted it would be something he and their Naneth would always get up to.

Whilst Arwen was poured a new cup from her own, the Sinda prince asked curiously, "You tried Dorwinion, Kili?"

Beside her, Tauriel gave a side-eye to her, mentally telling her of the barrel situation. Oh yes, that had been something Arwen heard from Bilbo Baggins and his adventures with the Dwarves.

Shaking his head, he made a soured expression. "Not the best thing." Kili quickly added, "Sorry Legolas."

Legolas hummed, "None taken. It is my father's favourite, though not the best in my case." He then turned to his to where the other dwarf sat upon the bench and inquired, "How about it, Gimli. Care to join?"

Gimli scoffed before he loudly proclaimed, "Ha! Of course!" He looked across to them and questioned, "What of you, Boromir? Care to join?"

A cough left Tazhin's mouth, making Arwen chuckle as she heard Boromir reply, "With the glare Tazhin sends me, I am still limiting my alcohol for the shoulder."

Tazhin tutted, folding her arms before she told Boromir, "Healer's orders, captain."

As Arwen took a sip of ale – bittersweet and less strong than the wine she drank – Tauriel nudged her shoulder and gave her a look. She asked through her mind, 'Have those two been like this?'

Thankfully she swallowed her drink before Arwen smirked and answered, 'Ever since we arrived in Snowbourn.'

Tauriel's eyes sparkled with mischief before they softened slightly. 'I am happy for him.' She told Arwen. 'Someone like her would help him ease his worries.'

That was something Arwen didn't deny agreeing. There was something to which showed a certain click between the Gondorian Captain and Healer. Ever since their first meeting in that tent and their conversation, despite the tension and arguments, they grew into: there was no denying that both Boromir and Tazhin had a fire between them.

It was far from the love Arwen had with Aragorn, though from her long life: she had seen that no love was the same. Theirs was just a little on the burning side.

Lord Eomer had been standing beside the barrel of ale, passing another cup across to Gimli before he eyed Tazhin standing next to him. He asked her, "What sort of drinks do you have in Khand?"

With a drink in her hand, Tazhin answered: "Quite many. Water is rather scarce to which I was born in, though we lacked in it to grow grapes. However, we had other methods in creating beverages." She paused, shuffling to take something from the pockets of her outer skirt. Tazhin offered up to the tall Rohirric lord, "Actually I have a bottle I still possess from my purchase during a merchant passing by last year. Lord Eomer, want a taste?"

She took out a small metal flask, taking an empty cup from the table before pouring a small amount upon it. The liquid was transparent, almost imitating water.

Arwen hadn't known Lord Eomer for that long, but by the laid-back attitude and openness, he didn't seem affected by Tazhin. In fact, he seemed curious, smiling back as he replied: "If you do not mind sharing, my lady." He thanked the healer as she passed the cup to him. With the cup upon his lips, Eomer continued, "All I know is that the best of Rohan is our ale. Made perfectly in Edoras—"

He suddenly stopped, swallowing the drink. Eomer choked out loud, making a shrewd face before he heaved out a breath.

Arwen rose an eyebrow, looking up to Tazhin who simply muttered about (and to quote) 'Western men and their weak tastes'.

Boromir stopped glancing at Tazhin and asked with concern, "Eomer?"

Meanwhile, Kili asked curiously, "How was that?"

With a thump on his chest, Eomer raggedly responded before handing back the cup to the healer, "Worse than Dorwinion I assure you."

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Aragorn | Heir of Gondor

Aragorn lingered around the crowded hall of Meduseld, spectating as much of the joy and celebration. He already passed the table to which most of the Fellowship sat down and talked, relieved to see Arwen sitting between Tauriel and Boromir as the rest were laughing and drinking. For a moment their eyes met, his chest warming once more as Arwen showed a smile upon her lips.

He was glad that she was unharmed from the battle. Frustrated and annoyed but relieved all the same. There was no moment he didn't want her here, but the only thing Aragorn could have wished never occurred was going to Isengard with her.

That had been when things changed. Confronting Saruman had depleted the victory in his mind and heart, knowing now that despite the former White Wizard's defeat: in a way, he still won. He had planted doubt upon everyone's heads. He has seen the look of fear and worries on Arwen's face the moment she found Illyria Strange's contraption. The phone which he had only seen at his time in Rivendell.

What made it even more foreboding had been Gandalf's reaction. He seemed angered and worried the moment Saruman began to mention Lady Illyria, shouting about Perainur that Aragorn could only react in confusion of it all. What did the wizard mean about half-Ainur? Did that mean Arwen had more Ainur blood in her veins?

Though when Saruman called Arwen a half breed that was when his blood rose. He spat those words out as if she was a stain upon the fabric. An illness. All he could do was assure his support by taking his beloved's hand, mentally telling her to not let Saruman's words plant more doubt on her mind.

Then the reveal of his heritage was spat out across Isengard.

Aragorn already knew then that both Lord Eomer and Théoden King would be shocked at the news of his state – probably likely to ask him about it and if the Lords and Steward of Gondor knew of this. However, he remained quiet about it. Luckily Théoden King hadn't spoken about it as well, but it didn't stop the doubtful and suspicious glances he showed since their return.

The daughter of the Oialëa and the Heir of Gondor under one roof.

He did his best to be unaffected by the reaction, but the news could only be kept to one for so long. Soon he was getting whispers from not only the Rohirric people but the Gondorians as well. And it wasn't a surprise when Lady Éowyn had bumped into him during the celebration, awkwardly telling him to enjoy the dancing and singing before he kindly dismissed the offered drink.

Aragorn finally found the person he had been searching for.

For someone wearing all white, it took quite a while to find Gandalf amongst the crowd, only to see him standing beside a wooden column. He was watching with the large crowd huddled around a long table.

Both Merry and Pippin were singing in Westron, dancing upon the table whilst the people were cheering and clapping in time.

Falling beside the wizard, Aragorn smiled in amusement at the two hobbits. The two-no doubt had gotten taller, courtesy of some Ent draught which Tauriel and Kili mentioned on their way back to Edoras. That reminded him that the Ents had stayed back in Isengard, guarding the White Wizard as well as Grima Wormtongue.

Aragorn didn't question Gandalf's instruction to keep Saruman alive, silently agreeing despite Théoden King's protests. The King of Rohan wanted to kill the former White Wizard for the crimes he had committed, for not only Helm's Deep and the people of Rohan but for his son Théodred as well. But Aragorn didn't question anything further; he trusted Gandalf enough for the choices when it came to the Istari and Valar.

As they both watched the hobbits continue their performance, Aragorn asked him: "No news of Frodo and Sam?"

The White Wizard simply shook his head to his dismay.

However, Aragorn didn't stop his hope as he responded softly, "We have time. Every day Frodo and Sam move closer to Mordor."

"Do we know that?" Gandalf's question lingered upon his mind as their eyes met.

Aragorn asked in return, "What does your heart tell you?"

There was a look that reminded him somewhat of Arwen's. Or even Lady Illyria's. Gandalf's gaze upon a blank space was similar to whenever Arwen wasn't mentally there – as if her entire aura was elsewhere.

But after several blinks, a small hopeful smile rose from his lips. "That Frodo is alive." The White Wizard hummed, "Yes. They are alive."

The tightness in Aragorn's chest loosened slightly. Though that wasn't to be said when another thought crossed his mind.

"And what of Lady Illyria and Lord Maedhros? Of what Saruman said what occurred." His eyebrows crossed with concern, asking back, "Is it true?"

That was when Gandalf's expression morphed into seriousness. He took a breath before he spoke gravely, "That I do know, for that, I pray what has come may have given Illyria Ettelëa the deepest burden she has ever carried." Gandalf's voice echoed into his mind as he continued, "And even I cannot say for I am forbidden to."

Aragorn frowned.

What was it that deemed so secretive for even Gandalf to speak of?

But as he noticed the wizard's gaze moving across the room to where Arwen sat, Aragorn's heart skipped a beat. He asked quietly back, "It involves Arwen, doesn't it?"

Gandalf stared back at him, his face speaking barely anything. A nerve struck upon him as Gandalf answered: "All I can speak of is that nothing is left all ready to be shown." He looked back to the space which was now empty, causing Aragorn's heart to skip, "Though the one that may have spoken about it may affect the Eternal's choices. And thus reflect what may be of Arwen Undómiel."

Gulping, Aragorn's hand fiddled upon the Elessar upon his tunic. He glanced back to the wizard as he murmured, "Back in Moria...you told me to trust her choice." His voice cracked slightly as he added, "You were not talking about Lothlorien or Frodo, were you?"

And just as he predicted, Gandalf gave him his enigmatic look before Aragorn stared blankly upon the group – their silence now filled with cheers and claps and the voices of the hobbits singing in joy.

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Éowyn | Shieldmaiden of Rohan

The city of Edoras was loud that night. In a way, it had been almost over a year since the city had celebrated anything. And to her surprise, not only the people across Rohan were here but also those who evacuated Gondor six months ago.

Those from the encampment from Snowbourn had finally migrated outside Edoras, with only the soldiers from Gondor remaining back in the camp and several others who chose to stay. Nevertheless, Edoras welcomed anyone who came with the entourage. A mix of women, children, elderly and injured or those who simply could help with the war effort.

From the moment they returned from Helm's Deep, Éowyn had no time to relax. Since both her brother and uncle left for Isengard, she along with Lord Boromir and her uncle's advisors and commanders were instructed to bring order and peace between the two groups of people. It was then she finally acquainted herself with the man which her brother mentioned. Captain Boromir was far from the man she had thought of, expecting a stoic man much like her brother – strict and foreboding. Instead, he was rather friendly, kind and somewhat a little awkward to converse with. He was quite a gentleman nevertheless, and to her surprise easily didn't question how she spoke about fighting and protecting the women and children in the caves during the battle.

In fact, Boromir seemed surprised and simply told her that he was gladdened for her to fight to which Éowyn couldn't help but be flustered. He wasn't so sure himself of what he spoke of but the effort had been there. She couldn't help but open to the man, gladly accepting that they would perhaps train. Éowyn couldn't help as well be curious, spotting him sometimes with the dark-skinned woman in the Gondorian uniform. She could only assume that they were friends.

Or perhaps married considering most of the time she saw them they were constantly arguing about the littlest things.

She knew that Lord Boromir had been hurt, considering he wore a sling constantly and the woman in question always kept an eye on it. What happened to the captain that caused him permanent damage to his arm?

It wasn't her problem to pry into but nobody could help themselves being nosy, right?

So most of the week it was a cycle of busy preparing and worrying at the same time. Well, the worrying stopped when the group returned from Isengard, with now four new faces to which she caught once they arrived in Meduseld. And from the short meeting they had, they were far from human.

One of them was definitely a dwarf, evident by his armour and the pattern edged upon them. Though several inches taller than Lord Gimli, she was surprised to face the Prince of Erebor. Prince Kili had a more youthful and boyish look, almost human-like. His icy blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he introduced himself before he introduced his wife.

Just as Gimli described, never had Éowyn seen such orange-red hair as Princess Tauriel. She was far taller than Kili, but her stature didn't extend to Prince Legolas or Lord Thorongil. In fact, she was only perhaps an inch taller than the other elven woman who arrived with them. Her clothes were a mix of Prince Legolas' as well as Dwarvish patterns and runes. When Tauriel introduced herself she surprised Éowyn by asking her if she fought as well.

They instantly clicked, accepting a lesson with the elven princess during their stay.

After she met Tauriel and Kili, she had hoped to introduce herself to the other elven maiden and the two short-statured people but was stopped due to her list of duties. There had been so much to prepare for the celebration they planned once Uncle Théoden returned. Even she had barely been able to see Lord Thorongil or Eomer at all – both busy either in the healing halls or talking with Lord Boromir with the Gondorian captains.

When the festivities began, she was only able to speak to Thorongil once. Bumping him at the start, she couldn't really think of anything to say, only to congratulate it and to assure him that it was also his efforts that they survived. Because in truth, without Thorongil: they would have lost so much more of their people. That included the alliance with the elves from Lothlorien and the Gondorians.

But then her uncle spotted them and Thorongil excused himself, wishing her to enjoy herself. The heart within her depleted, scolding herself for hoping once more. Even her uncle thought so too.

However, Éowyn knew it was not meant to be. She had seen Thorongil with the elven maiden.

The elf who could summon light.

She knew but her heart could never be that quick to give into reality. Though despite her heart lingering, her mind now focused on her curiosity of the elven maiden. She remembered hearing about what they called her – Undómiel. The Evenstar. It felt fitting considering the situation. A star upon the eve, bringing hope to them at such dark times.

When Éowyn heard of what she did, the first person she actually thought had been them. Ranyar. The magical being who had saved their people all those years. She had clutched the pin he gave her, wondering if they were connected somehow. Did the Evenstar know Ranyar?

Perhaps that was the reason why she was here now.

Éowyn left Meduseld, a shoal around her shoulders as she slipped through the crowds and found a quieter part upon the hill the hall sat upon.

It was there she found the elf. She was sitting down on the cold stone, her legs crossed with her staff on the ground. Her hands were on her knees, palms out whilst her eyes were closed.

But not for long as grey-blue eyes stared up at her, causing Éowyn's heart to jump in surprise. She quickly apologized, "I apologise, I wasn't aware."

The elven maiden blinked several times before her shoulders relaxed, her face softening as she answered, "No, it's alright." She told her, "I was merely meditating."

Her voice was soft yet distinctive. Perhaps that was what Éowyn thought stars would talk like, with lilting voices that rolled like smooth hills. But for her it sounded too celestial, making her want to speak back even more.

It didn't help that whoever she was, the elven maiden before her (or perhaps not even an elf by how much her eyes glowed so much under the night sky) wore clothes that she wouldn't expect. If Éowyn looked any closer, she could have sworn there were patterns of silver and golden shining on them.

Almost like Ranyar's navy robes as well.

Éowyn took a step towards her, gaining her confidence once more when she began: "I saw you, well I was in Helm's Deep and I had yet to introduce myself to you." She smiled and introduced herself, "I am Éowyn."

With a hand upon her heart, the elven maiden curtly lowered her chin. "Elenníca Ettelëa." It was there she gestured to an empty spot beside her.

With no hesitation, she thanked Elenníca and sat down beside her. Once she did, Éowyn couldn't help but begin to tell her what was in her mind. "I saw you and I came out because I thought you wanted some company."

Elenníca's smile softened before she glanced back at the doors of the halls. The sound of people singing escaping from the walls. She answered, "I needed some air." Gesturing her hand, she also japed, "And most of my companions are drunk or getting drunk so I thought it would be for the best. Thank you for considering so, Lady Éowyn."

Éowyn couldn't help but share her amusement. No doubt Eomer decided to join them for some drinking game. Tomorrow they were going to be asking the healers for anything to solve their headaches. She pulled up one knee whilst the other stretched out as she pointed out, "Your friends are very close. You must have travelled for a long time to know one another."

Beside her, Elenníca shared a fond look. "We did not see eye to eye for quite some time." She glanced back to Éowyn, "Much like Thorongil and your king."

Éowyn refrained from showing the truth, knowing exactly what she meant. It would seem that it was evident her uncle had a different opinion of the Ranger now. With a sigh, she raked a hand through her hair as she explained, "He is...he is just conflicted. But not to worry, Lord Boromir vouches for him and I assure you I think of him as a good leader." Her mouth clamped shut as she realised what she said. "Not that I am suggesting. I..."

Instead, she was eased by a slight chuckle alongside an assuring smile. "Peace, Éowyn." Elenníca smiled back at her as she added, "It is alright."

Internally Éowyn sighed in relief. She had almost ruined her chance of befriending another person that wasn't someone she knew. And especially with someone she hoped could perhaps answer the impending questions she had been revolving inside her since she was a child.

To that she blurted out, "The men call you the Sunne Ælf reborn. That you can wield light."

Elenníca nodded slowly, "I do." Amusement showed upon her face as she continued in a mused tone, "Though perhaps imitating the sun may be farfetched."

Perhaps it did sound farfetched, but it did describe exactly the myth and history they knew of. "A man once did so as well." Éowyn finally revealed, surprising herself that she was going to tell her. An elf who she had only met just a few seconds ago. "When I was a little girl, a man name Ranyar came to Edoras. It was during a poor season. A time of sickness. My brother was almost to pass but he had given some light and life to him. And he lived."

Waiting for a confused or even unimpressed look, she hid back her shock when she saw Elenníca look at her with curiosity.

It was when she asked her back a question that made Éowyn's heart rate increase. "What did that man look like?" Elenníca asked.

Éowyn replied, "I don't even think he even was a man." She took a breath, "But he was not like Gandalf nor Saruman. His power was greater than anything. Dark blue robes. He wore a hood that none could see his face. Though yet, I do believe he showed it once but I cannot remember it."

Hope then arose when there was recognition in her eyes. Did Elenníca know who she was speaking of?

Would she be able to contact Ranyar then?

But of course, her high hopes made have gone beyond the stars, because all Elenníca replied was this: "And what do you think of him?"

Éowyn glanced at her, studying the Sunne Ælf. There was no doubt she was the most beautiful person she had ever met. There were tales from merchants travelling through Edoras of how there was an elf who was supposed to have the perfect reincarnation of an ancient elf who gave up her immortality. Perhaps Elenníca was her?

But surely someone so beautiful as Elenníca shouldn't be out here, fighting in such a cold and harsh place. She should be playing the harp and singing elven songs in some garden, bringing joy and hope.

Instead, those tales showed an elf in front of her, with imperfections upon her clothes and eyes that have seen death and war.

At that moment Éowyn recalled seeing Ranyar for the first time, the same questions running through her head. Of someone so powerful and beautiful could live such a dangerous life and risk themselves?

And the reason was right in front of her.

"Well, I believe that perhaps he is like you. That he wanders the land to help those in need. For purpose? I do not know." Éowyn paused before she shared a softened smile with her. "Without you, I feared that we would have lost so much."

Her eyes showed such utter kindness and earnestness, her hand placed upon hers. Elenníca spoke, "You do not need to fear so, Éowyn. It is...it is understandable. Even now I am still learning your kind. What the race of mortals is like." She said with eyes brightening, "And perhaps this Ranyar and I share the same goal. We see light in your people, and you will find your time to be brave."

For once, Éowyn felt at ease. Her hope rose much like the moment she had met Ranyar the first time. Because despite him not being here: he did keep his promise to her in the form of an elven maiden.

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[1] - The Shard: The second-tallest free-standing structure in the UK and the tallest building in the UK. It is in Southwark, London. I've only been there once but didn't go inside it. It's featured in Doctor Who in the Bells of Saint John as well as Spiderman: Far From Home. It is also the government agency that Elliot Madden (Elros) and Halle Warden (Haleth) work at.
[2] - Perainur/Peraini: Made-up Quenya by me meaning 'Half-Ainur/Half-Aini'. They include as well Glorfindel, the line of Luthien.

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A/N: As promise, we get a double update and we also get a new viewpoint from a secret person. Don't worry, he'll get revealed but it won't happen until Part 4 (again, it's a long story and hence why there is so much going on).

As for Arwen, we finally reveal a new word which I came up with. I also just love the Fellowship bonding for once and I just wanted an entire chapter dedicated to it. :)

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Edited: 07/12/2022