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Old 09-07-2003, 07:31 PM   #20
Elora
Shade of Carn Dûm
 
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Join Date: Apr 2003
Location: Kalrienmar
Posts: 402
Elora has just left Hobbiton.
Sting

Vanwe

Vanwe steadily loaded up the tray with the ordered meals. She had gotten most of the way. Now to deliver them and find sanctuary in Lespheria's rooms. Fimbriel and Devorin could manage without her, surely, for she was of little use to any as it was. Rowena passed the last plate to her, the golden, ripe cheese upon on.

"Wouldn't do you no harm, Vanwe, to try some of this yourself." Vanwe nodded but said nothing on the matter. She was not hungry and what was one missed meal in light of everything else? The Elf still found it hard to understand why Cook and the hobbits had made her food their concern. It was a mystery, one of many here in the north, and it would not be settled tonight.

She collected the tray up, pushed back through the crowd and returned to the table of Rangers. Again conversation faltered. Silently she set out the contents of the tray, transferring plates, cutlery, food and the sunny napkins of the inn onto the table.

"Sirs," she said with a carefully deferential tone so as to give them no further quarrel. She was almost done and she would not trip on her escape from the den over her incivility. She had learnt it the hard way in the south and could not forget it now. It was beaten into her very bones.

She managed a small smile for Hanasian and another for Maethor who did not seem as hardened in his thoughts and unspoken questions. Amandur, though, his questions frightened her with her lack of answers. His questions and her answers had led her into prisions dank and infested before this inn. Questions meant bars on a cage, and there was a grimness of purpose within him that startled her. Rauthain she did not know what to make of. Instead, habitual caution guided her to ensure she made as little impression as possible.

Tray all but empty, Vanwe dropped a curtsy and moved as quickly as she could to the nearby table of Devorin. She unloaded the rest of the tray quickly. He caught her wrist easily.

"Whoa there," he said as though she were a skittish colt, "Where is yours?"

"I have things to do first, Devorin. I have to check Lespheria's rooms. She asked me to watch them for her and I have not checked them all day," Vanwe tested his grip a little frantically as Amandur realised she had spoken Lespheria's name with interest.

"I have to go, please," she said. Such boldness to her employer would have seen her beaten for her temerity. Inwardly she braced herself for what would follow as he frowned up at her in surprise. Devorin realised the extent of her unrest and released her swiftly.

"Go then, Vanwe, no need to fret. The sky is not falling." Vanwe stepped back in relief with the now empty tray in one hand. Oh, but there was need to fret! If only the sky was falling! The inn was bursting at the seams with Rangers and one even knew who she was! Devorin did not know, he cold not know.

Instead, Vanwe turned away. She cast a glance at the four Rangers as she sped past as quickly as she could without appearing to run. That would only feed suspicion. Rowena very nearly had to duck as Vanwe tossed the tray into the kitch on her way past.

"Where are you going," Fimbriel called after her retreating back. Devorin materialised at the bar in search of another ale. Vanwe had sped off before he could ask another of her.

"She's off to Lespheria's rooms. Something about checking them," he said, shaking his head in mystification. Up the stairs, Vanwe fitted the key to Lespheria's lock with fingers that seemed to rattle a little. When she heard the lock click open, she burst through the door, shut it and leant against it. There she paused, to listen for footsteps on the stairs or floorboards. The dull roar of the common room filtered up through the floor faintly.

Four Rangers! Four of them! All below! Rangers were as dangerous as the Rohirrim. She remembered how they had sat ahorse on a ridge, watching her eerily as she raced out of their grasslands into the north. She remembered his face as he inspected her own, filled with disgust and repugnance for who he thought she was.

Vanwe washed a clammy hand over her face and moved to the small hearth to light it. No trace of Kaldir yet, or Benia or Gilly either! Vanwe's mind all but hummed with possibilities. The Rangers were going to arrest her. Benia, Gilly and Kaldir were going to take her back to Harad.

The fire slowly grew into small life, and Vanwe sat on the floor before it, alone and small in the long shadow of her mother. Not for the first time since setting out, she asked herself what she thought she was doing. What could she achieve? All this way for what: arrested by Rangers, captured by hunters, or to find her mother really was as they said she was and her father really was dead.

In the quiet of Lespheria's room, a tear slipped free. That was all she allowed. Tears were of no avail. They had watered the sands of the Haradwaithe and changed nothing. Slowly she stood, smoothing crumpled and worn skirts and walked to the windows. She stood there a long time, staring at the night, until she finally drew the drapes. Then she sat in the chair and tried to think.

Yes, there were four Rangers down there, but one at least had word of her mother and that was why she was still here instead of fleeing into the wilderness long ago. Hanasian had said he would return and he needed to speak with her. She risked all this for his tidings and fear would not drive her to throw it all away now. Besides, if he wished to arrest her he had missed his opportunity during that night. They had both slept under the stars.

Unless he went for aid to bring me in... yet what danger am I? Vanwe held up her hands before her face. Urchin, dispossessed, beggar... there were infants of greater peril than she.

Amandur, well he had seen her heal Lespheria. Maybe that hasty revealation of her skills would stand her in good stead a little longer. Still, he watched like a hawk did Amandur and all too often she felt she resembled a mouse, squeaking and scurring hither and thither, whilst under his gaze.

As for Kaldir... maybe he would not be so bold with Rangers about. She could only hope. Certainly, she had to make sure she gave him no opportunity. Perhaps she would sleep in Lespheria's room tonight. She'd use the chair and not her bed, so as not to cause offense to the elegant Elf Lady who had entrusted her with the key.

Her wits had gotten her this far. Time to trust to them again, for she nothing else. As for all that it would come to, well it was not possible that her mother could be that evil. It simply was not. The tales of Naiore couldn't be true and if that was so, then perhaps her father wasn't dead also. Vanwe pulled out the tattered scrap of paper and read their names.

"Naiore," she sounded softly, her mother's name, and "Menecin," her father's. The threading of her pulse abated a little as she sat in the chair in Lespheria's rooms, safe. A note of longing hung in the air after her voice faded. Vanwe drew her feet up to her chest in the chair and looped her arms around her knees.

It would all be well. She would find her mother, and she would not be evil, and her father would be alive. She would not be arrested nor would she be dragged back to the hell of that village. It would all be well. She had risked too much for it to be otherwise. In Lespheria's rooms, Vanwe was allowed to will it so at least within those four walls until the outside world pressed in on her once more.

And noone knew she was there, apart from Devorin, Fimbriel and perhaps Amandur. Vanwe rested her head upon her knees and closed her eyes to see the future how she wished it to be. The key that she had left in the door peeped through the lock to watch her dreamy smile take shape before the hearth. The paper had been set aside, and now she held a small length of braided leather thong.

She would never go back. She would find them. She would not be taken and she would prove all that had been said to be wrong.

Menecin


Elrohir sat in his father's great library, famed throughout the lands, in the latter day sanctuary of Imladris. His brother stood nearby, eyes roaming over the report Elrohir had given to him upon arriving. Elladan spoke the words aloud, echoing those that had leapt into Elrohir's memory to fix themselves there.

"...sightings of Naiore Dannan," Elladan said gravely, looking at his twin over the report. Elrohir closed his eyes for a moment and wished not the first time that the White Council had dealt with this remnant of woe before leaving.

"Elessar Elf-stone said he expected as much in his last missives. Eomer of Rohan claimed she had been sighted as well," Elorhir said calmly. There could be no arguing with this.

"That may well be, brother, but knowing that makes none of this the easier," Elladan muttered with characteristic spark as he resumed reading the report. It went on to details where she had been sighted and by whom. Some were even to give a rough description.

"The Dunedain reported indications that someone or something was attempting to pass the King's Ban into the Shire. Have been so for months now.

What interest would Naiore Dannan have with Hobbits," Elladan went on to ruminate. The pride of the Ravennor was well known to those familiar with her handiwork. Triffling with Hobbits seemed uncharacteristic in the least, if one neglected to consider two relevant pieces of information.

"Who was the reason for Sauron's downfall... and the Haflings are not the onlt thing of interest to her here in the north." Elrohir set down his goblet, too unsettled to consider more wine. Elladan crossed the library and took a seat by his brother.

"Those who care for him say his moods are blacker than ever. Could he know something, do you think?"

"Who can tell what Menecin knows now? Not I, not our father.... not even the White Lady could tell," Elrohir lapsed into silence, brooding the matters a little further. "Where now are the Dunedain?"

"Last report has them throughout the northernmost fences, those that did not go south to deal with Umbar's unrest. Scattered through the wilderness, which is where she is also.

Word needs to be gotten to them. Aragorn would give much to see Naiore Dannan brought down. We all would," Elrohir replied.

"We can send word, but methinks the Rangers will learn of this by other means. We need also to look to our own borders, and Menecin."

The brothers bent their heads to discuss the details for an hour, after which Elladan strode out of the library on his way to see it done. Elrohir was left with the report, the empty library and the spectre of the past hanging in the dancing light of the fireplace. Not even his father would have known how to proceed with such a one as she, Elrohir reckoned. It was a thought of little comfort.

He rose and soon his bootheels echoed over the tiles of Imladris as he saw to the guard over Menecin. If Naiore Dannan was in the north, they would be on their guard for her should she strike. And strike she would, for Naiore Dannan could no more withhold from action than she could renounce her evil. As he walked, a song written long ago by Elven standards, echoed in his head. It was of a maiden, fair as the dawn over the forest, beautiful and distant as moonlight on the waves. It was said that it was sung of Naiore Dannan, Lady of the Swan, a title she still claimed in bitter humour.The hand that had penned it, the voice that had sung it, was said to be that of Menecin. As Elrohir neared the preternaturally still area that Menecin now abided in, it was hard to credit that his voice had ever lifted in song and that Naiore Dannan had ever been so glorious. Yet, Galadriel had said it was so.

Sauron's reach was long, from beyond the nothingness of the Void, the Everlasting Dark, even now. Elrohir knocked quietly upon the door and slipped in to speak with the guard concerning vigilence.

Menecin, who rarely slept, listened in the darkness of his mind and room and smiled. He knew she would come back.

Last edited by piosenniel; 05-11-2006 at 10:36 AM.
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