The Silver Flame (LOTR)

Secrets and Shadows

The day had come when Rivendell's gates were once again opened, this time to a new and unexpected group of travelers. Visenya had heard whispers of their arrival, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. Aragorn was leading them, but it was not the ranger's weathered face that caught her attention. No, her eyes were drawn to the small figures trailing behind him—creatures unlike any she had ever seen.

Hobbits.

She stood at the balcony, watching as Aragorn, weary from his journey, rode alongside his companions. And there, slumped over on a horse before one of the hobbits, was a figure barely conscious, his face pale as death. Visenya's keen eyes immediately recognized the seriousness of the situation, the unnatural hue of the hobbit's skin telling her that something dark and foul had pierced him.

"Lady Visenya," Elrond's voice called from behind her, bringing her focus back to the moment. She turned to face him, his expression grave. "The one called Frodo was injured by a Morgul blade. He is fading quickly, and we have little time."

"I'll help in any way I can," she responded without hesitation, already moving toward the steps that would lead her to the healing chambers.

As they descended the stone steps together, Elrond glanced at her, his eyes filled with quiet approval. "You've shown a natural inclination toward healing. We will need that skill today."

She gave a nod, grateful for his trust in her. Though she had once been a warrior on the battlefield, a dragonrider, here in this new world she had discovered a different calling—a need to protect life in ways she had never known before. Healing was foreign to her, but she found herself drawn to the care and preservation of life, especially in a world where evil seemed to be spreading like wildfire.

When she reached the healing chambers, Frodo had already been laid on one of the stone beds, his friends gathered around him, their small faces etched with fear and uncertainty. The air was thick with tension, but Visenya did not falter. She immediately began assisting Elrond, moving with swift purpose, her hands steady as she worked to prepare the necessary herbs and poultices.

As she worked, she couldn't help but steal glances at the small creatures—these hobbits. She had never seen anything like them. They were gentle, yet there was a quiet strength in their eyes, particularly in the one called Sam, who stayed close to Frodo, refusing to leave his side. There was loyalty in his gaze, the kind of loyalty she had only seen in the bonds between soldiers or family.

Frodo's breathing was shallow, his skin deathly cold to the touch. Visenya leaned over him, her fingers brushing against the wound. A chill ran through her—there was dark magic at play here, something she had once felt in her own world during the wars she had fought.

"How long does he have?" she asked Elrond quietly, her voice calm, but the concern was clear.

"Not long," Elrond replied, his expression unreadable as he placed his hands gently over Frodo's chest, closing his eyes in concentration. "But we have time if we act swiftly. The poison from the blade has taken root, but it can be expelled."

Visenya watched as Elrond's power flowed through him, his ancient wisdom guiding his hands as he began the process of healing the hobbit. She assisted him as best she could, handing him vials of elixirs, holding steady when Frodo's body shuddered in response to the magic coursing through him.

It felt like hours before Elrond finally stepped back, a deep breath escaping him. Frodo's face had regained some color, and his breathing, though still shallow, had become more regular. The immediate danger had passed, but the road to recovery would be long.

As the healing chamber began to quiet, Gandalf appeared in the doorway, his eyes sharp and observant, taking in the scene before him. He exchanged a glance with Elrond before turning to Visenya with a nod of approval. "You have done well, Lady Visenya."

She wiped her hands on a cloth and gave a small smile. "He's not out of danger yet."

"No," Gandalf agreed, his gaze turning toward Frodo. "But we have bought him time, and that is more than we could have hoped for."

Once the tension in the room had settled, Elrond turned to those assembled. "I must speak with a few of you privately. Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn... Visenya. Join me in the council room."

Visenya's heart skipped a beat at the inclusion of her name, but she kept her expression neutral as she followed Elrond through the halls, Gandalf's staff tapping lightly against the stone floor as he walked beside her. When they entered the council room, the doors were shut behind them, leaving only the four of them in the room.

Elrond wasted no time getting to the point. "Visenya, your presence here has become known to more than just those within the safety of Rivendell's walls. I fear questions will soon arise about your origins, questions we cannot allow to surface."

Visenya looked between them, confusion furrowing her brow. "You wish for me to hide who I am?"

Elrond nodded solemnly. "For your own protection, and for the safety of all. Your true heritage, the power that runs in your veins, is not something that can be taken lightly. If the wrong forces learn of who you are... they will come for you."

"You are not in your world any longer," Aragorn added, his voice steady but filled with concern. "Here, the darkness is spreading, and your presence could draw attention from the very evil we are fighting against."

Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully before speaking. "We must devise a cover story for you. A believable one that will raise no suspicion."

"And what would that be?" Visenya asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't used to hiding. In her world, she had always stood tall and proud of her heritage.

Elrond exchanged a glance with Aragorn before speaking again. "You will pose as a member of Aragorn's family. His cousin, of the Dúnedain. It is a simple explanation, and one that will not raise questions. The Dúnedain are a scattered people, few in number, but well respected. You will not be questioned if you are believed to be of their bloodline."

Visenya let the words sink in, considering the implications. She was hesitant at first—her identity had always been a point of pride, not something to be hidden. But she understood the necessity. The threat they faced was unlike anything she had encountered before, and the risks were far too great.

"Very well," she said after a long pause. "I will be Aragorn's cousin."

Aragorn gave her a reassuring smile. "It is for the best. And I will make sure no one questions your place here."

"Then it is decided," Elrond concluded, his eyes locking with hers. "You will remain in Rivendell for now, and as we prepare for what is to come, you will be treated as kin to Aragorn. No one need know the truth."

Gandalf stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. "And remember, Lady Visenya, this is not about hiding in fear. This is about protecting you—and the world—from the forces that would use your strength for their own dark purposes."

Visenya nodded, though the weight of the deception settled heavily on her shoulders. She had come from a world of dragons, where strength and power were worn openly. Now, she was being asked to hide that strength, to blend in. But if it meant helping in the fight against the growing darkness, she would do what was necessary.

"I understand," she said, her voice firm. "I will play my part."