Lady of Rivendell || Book 2 ||

Ch 1 ~ The Home of the Hobbit

The Shire is enmeshed in starlit night as I stalk through the quiet, well-trodden streets. I slip past homes that glow faintly into the din, lit from within by warm hearths no doubt in the process of making dinner after a long, hard day of domestic work.

The air is crisp, and I draw my travel-stained cloak closer around myself. The brisk temperature is typical of late summer, soon to give way to the chill of the upcoming autumnal season of the harvest. My soft boots scuff lightly on the dirt-pressed pathway leading to a single home, quaintly perched on a small hill overlooking the rest of the hobbit-holes I have already passed by on my way to this singular spot. Even in the darkness, my keen elvish sight manages to make out the single rune marked upon the door, glowing faintly with a blue, shimmery light.

Gandalf certainly took care of every detail. Just as he had assured me when he first invited me to journey to this distant, western part of the world.

My mind drifts back to the wizard as I pause on the threshold of the round, marked door.

Our last meeting had been brief, both our separate journeying converging in on the Great East Road for a short time. The words we exchanged had been bitter.

"I am begging you to see reason, Lady Celebríel. You have punished Lord Elrond and your brothers for long enough."

He paused, hanging his head.

"Many generations have I walked this earth. I have seen many tragedies, even among elvenkind. The life of an elf may be endless, yet it is a frail thing all the same. Forgive the past. If you do not, you may live to regret it."

My infamous temper flared.

"You urge me to forgive, yet my family manipulated my heart in the cruelest of ways. Do not fault my compassion, Gandalf. It is theirs that deserve your contempt."

He gave an amused scoff. "My dear child. Forgiveness takes time, it is true. But you cannot hold onto pain forever. And you have been holding on for a century now."

He quieted, and I felt his hand take mine, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes shone with pity.

"I cannot imagine how much it has weighed on you, Celebríel."

His words pierced something in me and I hastily shook my head, turning to hide the tears now pricking in the corners of my eyes at the painful ache beginning to build in my chest.

"I cannot do it, Gandalf."

His responding sigh was heavy.

"So be it. But if you will cut yourself off from the rest of the world, I have no choice but to bring some of the world back to you."

Setting his pointed hat back on his head, he turned westward, toward the setting sun.

"In a fortnight, I will be at the home of a hobbit of the Shire; at Bag End in the town of Hobbiton. From there, myself and fourteen companions will be embarking on quite the adventure. It will do you some good to come and find me there."

I had glanced up at him then, his robes almost white, lit by the fading sun at his back. And despite the ache still tightening my chest, some small part of me had felt drawn towards that western light. That small, hopeful hand that has been reached out.

"Why are you trying to help me?"

Gandalf glanced back at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly.

"Because it would be good to see you smile again, my lady."

Then he had tipped his hat to me and turned westward, chasing that fading light. Leaving me with the choice of whether or not to follow.

I had pondered it a long while. And evidently, by or against my better judgment, my heart and my footsteps had lead me here.

I stare at the freshly-painted green door, clearing the thoughts hanging around my head like cobwebs.

Because it would be good to see you smile again.

A century had passed while I had wandered the wilds, my heavy heart aimlessly searching for relief I had not found.

No longer.

Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and press a finger to the brass doorbell.