Chapter 1-Hobbits in Rivendell

Chapter One- Hobbits in Rivendell

-Rayel-

It was tranquil day in Rivendell, how it almost always was. The waterfalls cascaded down the mountain-side and the streams ran clear and turquoise among the smooth stones along the bank. The sunlight streamed down through the trees, filling the forest with a warm, soft green light. We were nearing the end of autumn, and soon it would be winter. Already I knew that there was going to be a harsh season in store for the World of Men. Rivendell was well hidden in the moorlands and foothills of the Hithaeglir or the Misty Mountains as the dwarves and mortals had come accustomed to calling it.

There was a rumor that in Lothlórien, the Elves had captured a mysterious creature known to us only as Gollum. The name seemed vague and unfamiliar to me, but that was alright. I was too young to recall those days. Well, I was young by the Elven standards. At the tender age of fifty-three, I was still a teenager and only seventeen in mortal years. I was still a child to the Elves in Rivendell, and I would remain a child until reaching the Age of Reckoning: a hundred.

I was wearing a thin pair of trousers that day, a pair of deer -skin boots and a thin, airy green blouse. Around my waist was a leather belt, with my sheathed hunting knife and several pouches containing miscellaneous items I had gathered in the past few weeks. The women in my community said I was strange, even abnormal to them, especially considering the fact that my "dress code" differed so much from theirs. I removed the messenger bag from my shoulder and dug around inside mumbling: "Where is it? Ah, there it is!" I produced my leather-bound journal from inside my bag, along with a set of charcoal pencils. I opened my journal and skimmed through the pages, smiling at some of the recent sketches I had done recently. My long, coppery-colored hair fell into my eyes and quickly tucked it behind my pointed ears.

"Strange girl." I heard someone say.

"Yes, very strange."

I turned to look over my shoulder, spotting two women gawking at my appearance. They both wore long, feminine dresses, violet and pale-blue in color. They both had blue eyes and long, cascading blonde hair; the faces were perfect and blemish-free. The Elves were the exact picture of beauty and perfection.

"I can hear you!" I snapped, shooting them both an icy glare. "Just because I don't chose to parade myself around like a pompous fool, like you both seem fit to, doesn't mean anything out of the ordinary."

"Whatever you say, Lothrayel," they rolled their eyes.

Bitter and hurt, I watched them cross over the bridge and disappear back into the borders of Rivendell. The Elves are supposed to be loyal to their kinsmen, but I wasn't their kin. Nor would I ever be fully accepted into their social status. Yes, I was a full-blood Elf, but that didn't matter much, especially since my parents were dead and my Uncle Elrond was slightly ashamed of my behavior recently. His daughter, Arwen was exactly the picture of what a High-Blooded Elf should behave and look like. She had long, thick dark hair, shining blue eyes and a smile that could capture the heart of any man- mortal or Elf. She was honest, courteous, beautiful, soft-spoken and a leader. She was the pride and joy of on this side of Hitaheglir; always has and always will.

My Father was Elrond's brother and my mother was from Lothlórien. I don't remember much of my life with them, they were killed by orcs when I was merely five years old. Somehow the warg riders hadn't killed me, but instead they marked me and left. Then I was left alone with my battle-fallen parents. I had been alone for two days before I was scooped up by a Ranger who aged thirty-four. He was young, a half-blooded elf that, turned out, lived with my Uncle in Rivendell. Aragorn was roughly eighteen in Elvish years, making him the closest thing I have ever known to a brother, father and a mother. He played all three roles for me, and was there for me for many years under whatever circumstances arose. Aragorn had recently been Bree, he mentioned something about seeking Gandalf the Grey, or Mithrandir as the Elves called him.

Aragorn was in love with my cousin Arwen, and she loved him with all her being. Elrond had forbidden their love affair, because as much as he tried to hide it, Aragorn was mortal and Arwen was not. Arwen was immortal and Elrond would not watch his daughter waste away when Aragorn died. For only two things can kill and Elf: to be slain in battle or to die from a broken heart. And for Elves, there is no recovery from a broken heart; you could potentially heal yourself, but you could never fully recover. You either became bitter and hard or you passed on to the next world from your shattered love affair. Death was rare in the Elven communities- in fact, this is why Elves tended to stay away from the affairs of mortals. We didn't fear death, but we didn't welcome it with open arms either.

I lay down among the soft, green grass and the soil and closed my eyes. I listened to the water running over the stones, to the birds chirping in the trees and suddenly my ears caught something unfamiliar. There was noise- uncertain and dangerous coming from the House of Healing. I stumbled to my feet, gathering my things and splashing across the stream. I didn't bother hopping across the stones to avoid getting my feet wet. Something was happening, something crucial. I sprinted up the opposite hillside and onto the cobblestone path just in time to see Arwen cantering down the street on Asfaloth, a small figure wrapped in her arms. "Ada!" she shouted. "Father!"

Elrond emerged from the House with wide, questioning eyes but as soon as he saw the child-like figure in her arms he knew what to do. He took the boy from Arwen and hurried inside.

"Arwen!" I called, running to her side. "What happ-."

"-Quickly, cousin! Take Asfaloth to the stables! I need to help Frodo!" she dismounted her horse and hurried after her father before I could ask who Frodo was. I guessed that Frodo was the child she had been carrying.

I turned my attention back to Asfaloth, his white mane was tangled and his neck was slick with sweat. She must have run you for a long time, I thought grabbing his reins. The poor horse was panting and his ears were flat against his head, he was angry and perhaps as confused as I was at the moment. I led Asfaloth down the cobblestone path and toward the stables near the forest where I had been previously. I threw a glance back over my shoulder toward the House where several healers were rushing toward, carrying all sorts of potions and medical equipment. "I wonder what all the fuss is about." I shrugged, leading the exhausted horse behind me.

We reached the stables a few minutes later. It sat in the middle of a grassy knoll with oak fences surrounding the pasture. The tack shed stood near the stables and that was my first stop. I unfastened the bridal around his face and pulled the bit from his mouth. The bit was slimed over with white froth and it was still hot from being in his mouth for such a long time period. Next came the saddle: it took me a little longer to unfasten that it normally did. My mind was elsewhere, somewhere distant and new and exciting. After succeeding in removing the saddle, I opened the gate for Asfaloth and he trotted off into the pasture, whinnying to the other mares and stallions.

"At least you have friends," I murmured under my breath, feeling a pain of jealousy for Asfaloth and his companions. How long I had longed for fellowship. For a family. For belonging.

And maybe someday I would gain that. Perhaps someday I would obtain the family I wanted, but not now. Not today.

"So long, Asfaloth," I saluted the horse before turning back to the path before me which led back to Rivendell and slowly started the short walk home. I was caught up in my memories and in my own fantasies. Aragorn was the only one I had told about wanting to go off and be an adventurer. I wanted to leave the Realm of the Elves and see Middle Earth for myself. I wanted to go on a quest and make a name for myself, maybe I'd even find my soul mate- for he was evidentially not in Rivendell. I laughed at the thought of falling in love. Who could possibly love someone like me?

I wasn't normal by Elf standards as I mentioned before. I had a knack of getting into trouble and causing disasters... I preferred swordplay, archery, hunting and tracking more than anything. This made me strange compared to the other Elvish women, who preferred music, magicka, and being pampered. While they preferred extravagant hairstyles and fine jewels from the Mines, I preferred sitting beside the streams in the wilderness or perhaps up in a tree with my sketchbook in my hands. Unlike most elves that possessed blonde and dark hair, my hair was coppery-colored, like that of a dying ember. Sparks of red and blonde highlighted my hair, and if the sun hit it just right, it looked like my hair was on fire. A sprinkle of light freckles danced across my nose and a pale scar ran from temple to my jaw- the mark I had been given by the Orcs who killed my parents. My eyes were a true marvel: the changed depending on my mood, which was why I was a terrible liar. When my eyes were green, they were full of life and meant I was happy, excited or feeling adventurous. Blue-grey meant I was sad or depressed. But violet... Violet was a color I never wanted to see again; this meant I was angry, bitter, uncontrollable and dangerous.

So as you can see, I was far from normal.

I was back in Rivendell now, and something was afoot. The Elves were muttering something about Hobbits, Wraiths and a Ring. I felt a shiver run down my spine- something that was very rare. I was never frightened. Nothing scared me!- Well, except maybe spiders being underground. I had never gotten over the time when Aragorn and I had gone exploring in an old troll cave and the tunnel I had been playing in collapsed. I remember being surrounded by darkness and feeling hundreds of legs crawling all over my body. I had screamed and yelled until I lost my voice. It seemed like I had been trapped for days, when in reality, it only took Aragorn a few minutes to dig me out. I shuddered at the memory.

I was curious as to the identity of the stranger whom Arwen had brought with her, but I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts to go and see for myself. Besides, knowing my uncle, he would just shoo me out the door before I could ask or see for myself what they were hiding. Instead I sprinted up the path and to the bridge that stretched across the great river between Rivendell and the world of men. I sauntered across the bridge and in the middle, I leaned into the rails, closed my eyes and listened to the water that came thundering down over in the mountain. The daylight was fleeting and night was quickly approaching. I watched the sun sink slowly behind the Mountains and into the Unknown as the bright, blue moon came into view with her canvas of stars. Countless stars filled the dark void above, sparkling like a Dwarven Mine in the candle light. The cool mountain breeze billowed down and sent my hair into a whirling mess. I turned around to push it from my eyes and as I did, I caught sight of several silhouettes crossing the bridge. There were three children, a man and a pony and as they drew nearer, my heart leapt.

"Aragorn!" I shouted, rushing across the bridge and into his already open arms. "Aragorn!" I exclaimed, as his arms returned the embrace I had inflicted upon him. The familiar musky, pipe-tobacco scent filled my nostrils and I smile.

"Rayel," he grinned. "Dear sister, how are you?"

Rayel was the nickname he had given me when I was younger. He claimed that "Rayel" suited me better than Lothrayel Brendawyn Andasfaith. My name was quite the mouthful, and Rayel meant "spark" or "fire" and that's what Aragorn said I was. I was a spark that could start the most uncontrollable fire. He had always said my fiery hair matched my personality. I could go from a quiet, glowing flame and into a crackling, inferno in a matter of minutes. My stubbornness, temper and sarcasm managed to get me into all varieties of trouble.

"I missed you so much!" I whispered, burying my face into his chest.

"I missed you too, dear," he pulled back and allowed me to see his face. His shaggy, dark hair was damp and his beard was scraggily and weather-worn. His dark eyes were soft and tired, masking pain and anxiety.

"Well come on! You can all stay with me!" I grabbed hold of my brother's hand and pulled him down the path and to my medium-sized living quarters. "Any friend of Aragorn's is a friend of mine," I said to the small children who accompanied him.

"Thank you, ma'am," the chubby, blonde child said, smiling.

"Allow me," Aragorn cleared his voice. "To introduce my companions."

"I'm Pippin!" one of the boys called out. He had a mop of brown hair and a bright, carefree smile. His accent sounded Northern, distant and well, different. He had mischievous facial features, sharp eyebrows and happy eyes. "Well actually meh name is Perigrin' Took. You meh call me Pippin though! That's what e'ryone calls me."

"Pip!" exclaimed his friend, another fair-haired boy with a stern face; this lad had dark eyebrows and wore a frown.

"Well, I was just being polite, Merry!" Pippin snapped back.

"Boys!" Aragorn warned, sending me a small smile. "They're Hobbits from the Shire," he explained.

Right, Hobbits not boys.

"I'm Meridoc Brandybuck, but everyone calls me Merry," Merry said smiling softly, glaring at Pippin. "Please excuse my friend for his ill manners."

Pippin started objecting before Aragorn silenced him a furrowed brown and a not-so-smiling face.

"And what's your name?" I turned to the first Hobbit, the slightly robust fellow with blonde hair.

"My name is, Sam, my lady. Samwise Gamgee," he gave me a pleasant smile, but I saw worry in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked, suddenly feeling a need to protect these small beings.

"Mister Frodo was wounded by a Wraith," Sam explained. "Strider- your brother- said they're called Nazgul? They attacked us and wounded our friend."

"A Ring Wraith?" I turned to Aragorn. "How many are pursuing you?" my eyes must've been wide and my looks frenzied.

"Nine," Aragorn answered, his eyes begged me to drop the subject.

I'll explain later, Rayel. His thoughts penetrated my head.

"Arewn brought him to the House of Healing, I presume?" Aragorn asked, referring to Frodo. He had his pipe between his lips and was currently exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Yes," I nodded slowly. "She brought a sickly-looking Hobbit to Elrond earlier this evening."

"Is he alright?" The three Hobbits asked, all looking to me for answers.

"He's in Elrond's care," I smiled. "Worry not, little ones. Your friend will be fine, I promise."

They looked relived to say the least.

"Well you all look exhausted and starving!" I took in their muddy clothes and dirt-streaked faces. "Aragorn can show you the washroom and I'll make supper. How does that sound?" I asked.

"That sounds wonderful!" Pippin exclaimed, dropping his pack hanging his coat on the hook by the door.

"Thank you," Sam smiled. "Where should I put this?" he gestured to the massive pack on his back.

"By the door is fine, Sam," I took their little belongings and arranged them neatly by the door.

Aragorn led them down the hallway and to a large double door which led to the bath house. All the Elves shared one, there was no privacy among kin and despite the normality of bathing with one's neighbor, I for one would not hear of it. I bathed at night when all the other Elves were asleep.

I set to work preparing a fit dinner for my guests, I had my own store of salted pork, wild mushrooms, conies and various herbs and spices I had hunted down in the woods. Before long, I had prepared a potato soup, fresh rolls and a pitcher of ale that I had bought from a trader. I even set out the venison I had hunted and cooked a fort-night ago. It was rare for an Elf to enjoy the meat of a living, breathing creature, but I was the exception, A few moments after I had set the table, three clean Hobbits and one clean Aragorn appeared. They had the decency to change into a new, fresh set of clothes that Aragorn had managed to find. But Aragorn was wearing his clothes from the wardrobe. I always had extra clothes for my brother. When in Rivendell, he stayed with me, and because his visits came in uncertain sprits, I was always prepared for my brother.

---------After Dinner---------

The poor Hobbits fell asleep shortly after they finished their supper. All three of them managed to fit into my bed and I could hear them snoring away in my bedroom. "They're exhausted," I turned to my brother as he carried another handful of dishes to my sink.

"They've traveled a great distance." Aragorn stated, preoccupied with his own thoughts.

"Will you finally tell me what's going on?" I questioned, touching my brother's arm.

"Remember the stories I once told you about Isildur, son of Elendil?" I nodded. "Well in the battle of the Last Alliance, Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron's hand, with the broken shards of Narsil-."

"Of course I remember the legend, we have Narsil in the Temple-." but he cut me off.

"We found the Ring."

"What?"

Aragorn was Isildur's heir, and heir to the Throne of Gondor. If the Ring had really been found, it meant that Aragorn could fall into the same fate as his ancestor, for the Ring meant weakness in the Line of Kings. Aragorn walked away from the Throne, not wanting to follow in his ancestor's footsteps.

"It's been in the Shire all these years, in the possession of Bilbo Baggins of Bag End."

"What are you going to do?" I whimpered.

"There's a meeting the day after tomorrow, more of a Council really. We'll figure out what to do then."

"A Council?" I questioned.

"Yes," he nodded. "A Council of men, elves and dwarves. We will decide what to do with the Ring then."

"Aragorn, promise me this," I stared up at him with pleading eyes. "If you happen to go a quest, take me with you."

"Rayel," he started but I interrupted him.

"You know I can fight! I am resourceful! I won't be a burden, I promise!"

He smiled and traced my scar with his finger, "Alright, dear one. I will speak to Elrond about letting you come to the Council. It is not for me to say whether o not we will embark upon a quest; however, if we do, I will speak on your behalf." He kissed my forehead. "Get some sleep, Rayel. You can take my bed since yours is presently... occupied."