[Elora]

Vanwe


Vanwe sat in the darkening hollow that was their camp in numb silence, reeling inwardly. The days since they had left Bree, and nights, had been darker than anything she had known in her life before now. Dark, cold, dry, chill, deadly... And now she found the brilliance of hope at the news that her father was alive almost glaring in it's intensity. Her mother, it seemed, wished him freed from captivity. Yet, Naiore held her captive in a fashion, did she not? Perhaps not... Vanwe only knew that her mind was a malestrom that she could not navigate safely with her mother so close by.

Distantly, she heard her mother order the Hobbit Toby to report on his scout's findings. Vanwe tucked her innermost thoughts away, including the wail of despair that seemed to well up from within the deep cracks of her soul. She knew enough to know that her mother may use such things to hurt her... but not why.

"There's some Rangers," Toby said uncertainly, knowing well by now Naiore's intense hatred of such men.

"How many and where," Naiore impatiently pressed, knowing the Hobbit dissembled out of fear and lacking the wherewithal for a more civilised or gentle approach. Barrold and Avanill sat in a brooding silence nearby. Naiore had little time for them also. As her mother questioned Toby on the exact nature of the party he had observed, Vanwe sank inwards in the small opportunity she had.

The ruin of her mother lay throughout her. Vanwe could feel and sense the damage that had been done. Again, the question of why flailed at her painfully. She tucked it away. She had no time for it, and questions like that seemed to make it go harder when her mother came to her as she did, morning and night. Vanwe cast a surrepticious glance at her mother and felt about cautiously. If she was careful, she could do little things to ease the pain within without her mother knowing.

After learning that there were three Rangers and an Elf nearby, her mother snapped upright with a look of thunder upon her face. Vanwe froze, fearing that Naiore had sensed her. Then the rage was replaced by something more terrifying. It was the serene mask that Vanwe knew only too well.

"Remain at camp and light no fire," Naiore ordered as she strode into the trees. Vanwe closed her eyes in relief and resumed her work. The confusion, pain, betrayal that warred within her lent nightmarish memories a new and twisted life. There was little harbour against that, save the few precious memories that had no darkness threading through them. Vanwe's mind moved from Lespheria's gentle smile of friendship to Hanasian's soothing voice as they had spoken through the night under the stars.

There she lingered, drawing strength a little, ignoring the other three that remained at camp with her. Then, her memories betrayed her and shifted to the fuzzed recollections of her mother's voice, soft, a horse's rolling gait beneath her. Hanasian's warning echoed through her. Why? Vanwe had no answer.

Restless, knowing that to linger on that question would only hurt her more, Vanwe seized upon her new knowledge. Her father was alive and captive. That was why she would do as her mother had asked. Vanwe knew captivity in its many forms. In the few moments that Naiore was absent from the camp, Vanwe found a measure of lucidity.

It ended with her mother's sudden return and the din of a crow cawing raucously. The sound was eerie, and Vanwe was not the only one who felt her hair rise. She dropped her tentative healing, knowing she had barely managed to scratch the surface of the pain her mother had wakened within her, with a flush of guilt that was almost as bad as the refuge of her mother's softer words.

Barrold cheated Naiore of making any mention of her daughter's flushed cheeks with his sudden, uneasy outburst.

"What's goin' on 'ere? Why're we sittin' in the dark in this..... place." The man cast a suspicious glare at the surrounding trees. Naiore's reply was brusque, for all the horror it held.

"I'm seeing to the necessary additions to ensure sucess. Do you honestly think you, Avanill and Toby are up the the challenge of breaking Imladris' defences and subduing those within."

The laughter that shimmered in Naiore's voice made it clear what she thought.

"What makes you think we're going to attack Imladris for you," Barrold countered belligerently.

"Nothing," Naiore replied smoothly with a hint of dire threat, "Precisely why I am arranging assistance I can trust, in a fashion, to do my bidding."

"Who are you sending for," Avanill asked, clearly unhappy with the danger of being dispensible.

"You shall come to know them well enough when they arrive," Naiore said. "Time has come for us to discuss what is to be done.

"Imladris shall come to know of our presence, but not too soon if I have my way. Whilst we strike with the main thrust of my forces, Vanwe shall retrieve that which I have come for.

"Is that not so, daughter?"

Vanwe nodded, lifting her downcast gaze to her mother's and then to the rest of the group.

"I shall," she simply replied.

"An what might that be," Barrold interjected.

"My father," Vanwe replied, shaping the word with a some disbelief. She looked at her mother who was as still as a statue.

"Father," Barrold exclaimed.

"There is nothing further to discuss," Naiore said firmly. "For now, we wait and maintain our cover. I will deal with the nearby Rangers, and the Elf, in my own way. We move once the forces arrive.

"Until then, remain on your guard and be ready. I will watch through the night."

With that, Naiore stood and once again disappeared in the spreading night. Toby huddled where he was, plainly unhappy. Barrold stewed nearby, Avanill clearly displeased. Vanwe ignored the repeated glances that Barrold directed to her now and again, and turned her attention once more inwards.

She found herself enveloped in the fury of the past days, struggling to remain beyond its reach. If she was to survive, she had to master this pain so that her mother could not use it. Perhaps Naiore could come to respect her in time, if she showed strength. She was to meet her father, who until earlier this night had been dead to her. Another with a link to her mother that went deeper than associates and foes.

Thowing herself away from the howling pain of the constant Ravening, Vanwe forced herself to think instead of the Rangers. There was more pain, as she thought of the one who had died at Bree in defence of her, and of Tallas also, and anger. Confusion lapped at Vanwe. Rangers had always represented a danger to her. Yet Hanasian had been a friend and now she found herself hoping that they would not come to harm. What of the Elf that travelled with them?

Questions swirled around her futilely as she sat in the darkening forest waiting.