Faikar - LotR

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dawn approached like the rising of the morning tide, steady and inevitable; and yet she was awake and packed before the first strokes of pink painted the horizon. Her unruly hair was bound in a tight braid and she was dressed in various shades of blue and brown, twin black hilts peeking above her shoulders from under a worn cloak. Deft fingers flew through the motions as she armed herself, placing a blade on the outside of her thigh and in the concealed sheaths along her forearms, smoothing down her sleeves once she was finished. She turned, only to find her pack dangling from pale fingertips.

The intruder was beautiful. Full lips of cerise and shining eyes, Nárhína could not stop the hand that lifted to brush the elleth's ivory cheek. "I am certain you grow even lovelier each time I see you, mellin."

The elven woman smiled, a small graceful tilt of her lips but her eyes remained unchanged, bright but frozen pools of crisp blue. Nárhína let her hand drag down from her face and weave through her niece's silken tresses, repeating the gesture when she saw the tension in Arwen's shoulders loosen and her strict posture slouch slightly. The pack dropped at their feet and Nárhína closed the small distance to encircle the elf in her arms, breathing in the small comfort that family provided. Arwen's arms were tight around her ribs and she almost missed the minuscule tremble of her limbs.

"What has your father done now?" She had no doubt it was something related to the elf lord. As much as Arwen loved her father, which was unconditionally, Elrond was the only one able to get under his daughter's skin.

Nárhína had met Elrond before either of them turned half a century old. He was her brother in every way that mattered. They'd been present through most of each other's lives; the pain, the sorrow, the dark times that wrapped you in chains and threatened to drag you to an abyss too deep to crawl out of. Of course, there were bright days as well. The first time he taught her how to use a bow. His reaction when he found out he had walked around the entire day with flowers in his braided hair that she had stealthily snuck in. Their first Starlight Feast.

But the day his eyes settled on his future wife was her favorite. The normally stoic and stern ellon had literally melted in the presence of Celebrían. She had been shocked at first; to see him so charming and gentle with the silver haired beauty was certainly a drastic transformation but not wholly unwelcome. It took some time to get used to, the dynamic changed and the elleth was nervous around her despite Elrond's firm and absolute countenance. But regardless of the elf woman's opinion of her, Nárhína was adamant that those two were halves of the same soul.

Things changed again when Celebrían was pregnant with the twins. Children were not rare exactly but did not happen often amongst elves. She had found herself in the Lady's company more days than not, a strange new path open to her. The word 'friend' was used more in conversation and as a title and Nárhína could not recall when that somehow became 'sister', the love and laughter the elf woman showered her with mending something she did not know was broken. She was present at each of the children's births, Godmother for all, and tried to spend as much time as she was able in Imladris. Often enough when the young ones were growing up, Elrond and Nárhína differed in views and temperament – stout siblings - whereas Celebrían would more so side with her husband. This resulted in the children seeking her out when things didn't go exactly their way with their parents. The twin troublemakers often finding her for shelter from the storm brought on by their mischievous actions and a shoulder and ear for Arwen when her parents denied her something she sought. She was present for most of their lives, a semi-permanent fixture from the moment they appeared in this world.

Everything changed however, with a dark night and a cave of monsters.

Featherlight, a ghost of a touch on her own cheek brought her out of the dark corner her thoughts led her to. Knowing eyes gazed up her, brimming now with a different sort of grief.

"I am not afraid anymore," Arwen said. Nárhína's hand began combing through the dark locks once again, red eyes softening at the determination she heard.

"It would not matter," her voice hushed but firm. "Your fear, even hatred, I would gladly take if it meant you and your family were safe." The skin between slim black brows furrowed and Nárhína gently gripped her niece's chin. "Hush now. There is no discussion. The consequences are my own and I regret nothing." Leading her out of the room and onto the balcony, they sat, the burgeoning sun an ever brightening backdrop. "Now, tell me what dims my Evenstar."

Sharp blue eyes under a sheen of tears cut to hers and Nárhína could read what she tried to hide. Sadness of course was most apparent, assuredly anger, and fear. She watched as they came and passed over, only to rise once again to the forefront. It was not easy watching one you cherished fight with their own emotions, struggling to find some semblance of control only to have them choke and suffocate you from within.

"I am to sail." Of course. Though it was no surprise, Nárhína still found the breath in her lungs turning to lead.

"Your father's decision, I presume?" She knew the answer already and did not need Arwen's nod as confirmation. After his wife made her own journey to the Undying Lands, Elrond had changed, falling back into the well-worn and familiar skin of the age old warrior. Most unsurprisingly, it affected his relationship with his daughter. So much so that she travelled to her Grandmother's and spent the next few centuries in the Golden Wood. It would only make sense now, when the world was in danger of darkness again, that he would want her to leave.

"He seeks only to protect you." The elf's mouth turned down as she dipped her head. "But," Arwen didn't look up but Nárhína knew her attention had not strayed. "We both know your fate is no longer in his hands. Has not been for some time, as I'm sure he realizes." And slowly, ever so slowly, Arwen turned to face her. Where despair once reigned, blue fire raged, alight with something other than a breaking heart that sent a tingle of trepidation down her spine.

Nárhína did not like hope. Did not enjoy the way it kept the heart beating as others attempted to beat it from the flesh. Nor the way it bred madness, flooding and filling until the air you breathed was its own and reality was a shimmering mirage of could be.

But then he filled her thoughts. Eyes an enchanting mix of blue and green, skin crinkling at the corners with the force of his smile and the joy lighting them from within. She focused on her niece once more, realizing that to be anything but supportive would go against the very thing she succumbed to just the day before.

A fool's hope.

"I will not pretend to know the future," Nárhína sighed, her age assuredly layered in the small noise. "Truthfully, there is a greater chance for failure than there is of this makeshift Fellowship succeeding. But I believe you already made your choice, you must now recognize that there is nothing your father nor anyone else could say to sway you otherwise." Arwen refused to meet her gaze, something very much unlike herself, choosing instead to watch her own dark hair flutter with the morning breeze. Nárhína rested one of her own scarred hands over her niece's, squeezing gently in understanding as the older woman grasped onto the heart of the matter.

"Do not fall for the whispered wishes of a frightened man."