The Gift

The Gift Part 1

It had been a long and grueling journey with snippets of beauty in the vast lands they traveled.  The days and nights were on the cusp of spring and yet still cold, and very muddy. Thunder currently rumbled, and the sky was the color of pewter, another storm was approaching and hopefully twould be the last.  Each well-placed hoof of her stallion seemed to suck as it was lifted free only to continue with every step they made.  She was tired of hearing the sucking sound for it was monotonous and she was just as sure her stallion had to be as well.  Born to horse and bow even she was weary of the long journey and knew her men must be as well.  All of them were of Nargothrond, their fallen home.

How she missed it so, though she could not say so, for all of them missed their home.  At least not aloud for to do so would bring sorrow amongst them.  She was thankful for so many places she had traveled, so many places she had seen and it would not have been possible if she were still bound to Nargothrond.

Rivendell was a place of great architecture and elegance, Lothlorien's was all about nature and grace.  But none had compared to Nargothrond for it had been built into a mountain by the hands of dwarves.  She missed the sound of steps upon stone, of touching the mountain and feeling its heartbeat.  But as Lord Elrond had counseled her...home was where her heart was.  And that too was a problem...where was her heart.  Her cousin Arwen was happily wed to Aragorn,  Elladan, and Elrohir also on the cusp of binding to their chosen.  And she...she had been courted.  By many.  But none she would trust enough to bind her fate to.  

When she had been younger, she had been taken by Orcs and held in a dark hole in the earth. Her screams had ruined her voice, But the earth had comforted her and kept her from losing her mind from her captivity.  She had managed to escape though she still bore their mark and had quickly learned black speech from all the insults hurled.  Lord Glorfindel managed to keep her voice musical if somewhat smoky.

Most elven males were intimidated by her and thought her cold.  Others merely were arrogant and slightly cruel, filled with their own sense of worth; these were lesser lords who wanted her because of her high birth and because she was connected to all the major elven lands with the exception of Mirkwood, and would raise their station, their importance.  She inhaled a deep breath and felt the bite of it as it entered her lungs before releasing it in a plumed veil which pulled her mind from its wanderings and just in time for up ahead lay Esgaroth.

Esgaroth....the new Lake Town sat some distance from its previous location, but the darkened spires of the Watertown heavily damaged by Smaug during a fierce battle could still be seen. Perhaps it was a reminder of what had happened and could come again. It was a battle she wished she had partaken in, but she had been elsewhere with her cousins Elladan and Elrohir. Her small company spoke among themselves as they neared the shore and the barges that awaited coin to take passengers into Esgaroth which had been rebuilt with great splendor from the treasure hoard the dragon had fiercely guarded. Ranewen, her stallion, pranced sideways tossing his majestic head and causing the eyes of men to take note of their approach and of his heavily muscled body and nimble, quick hooves as they flirtatiously danced upon the earth.

She glanced to her personal guard and tipped her chin in the direction of the men that watched their approach with fascination as they loaded a wagon with large and heavy barrels. The men had seen elves before to be sure. But never had they seen such fine beasts as the six white stallions and the lone single black stallion that was in the center of the group. The black stallions rider was more delicate and wore a red cloak with the hood up concealing the face in dark shadow while the others rode upon silvery white stallions wore blinding armor of silver, white and red.

Ragnor stroked his short graying beard and held to the tiller of his ferry as it was unloaded and spoke quietly to the men around him. He watched a single snowy stallion boldly approach with an elven warrior upon his back. He had seen plenty of Mirkwood elves during the goods exchange, but he had never seen elves such as this group, for these looked more regal; clearly they were not of Mirkwood. Their armor was very different, and these elves had golden hair, not silver or red. Their shields all bore a great white stag that glistened as the midday sun beat upon them. Aye, this was different, and he would give his years pay that the middle rider in red was an elven lady for she was more petite, her garments even from here were costly and elegantly designed.