Valar Rising

Chapter Three: Rian

Rivendell was impressive, though Rian would not admit that out loud. Its buildings sprawled out over the beautiful land, accompanied by the most delicate foliage she had ever seen. Everywhere she looked you could see a breathtaking view of the hills and cliffs and water surrounding the landscape. It surpassed expectations she may have had, but Rian's extreme desire to be anywhere else on Arda than here soiled the splendor.

Upon arriving at the feet of Lord Elrond, Rian had inquired about where she could find a moment of solace. She soon found herself in the room she would be staying and told she was welcome to roam anywhere she pleased as long as she was back in time to dress for dinner. Rian had never dressed for dinner in her life, and the thought of starting now made her feel uncomfortable. But, she knew she would follow the request instead of showing up to dinner with disrespect for her host.

She dutifully washed in the tub of water left in her room and changed into the fresh tunic and leggings that a kind elf had brought her. All the while trying to repress the suffocating stress in her chest. Thoughts danced through her mind, questions that she still did not have answers to, answers to questions she thought she wanted but now wished she had never heard.

How was she to understand that she was not from Dunedain lineage? How was she to understand why she had powers she had had to suppress since she was a child? How was she to stop oncoming darkness that everyone says is unstoppable?

The weight of the world could not wash off with water and soap. Rian finished her prep for dinner feeling no more settled or refreshed than when she started, but pushed her door open and went in search of the dining hall.

"You look well this evening, Rian." Gandalf startled her as she wandered past an open door. She backed up and saw him sitting in a library among a large pile of books. She should have known that he would commit himself to research as soon as he had the materials available.

"You're too kind Mithrandir. I have not yet been able to find time to clear my mind." She sat down opposite him and took one of his books in her hands.

"I tried to tell Lord Elrond you would not be up to a formal dinner but he -"

"I am capable of eating and conversing, regardless of not wanting to. I know how to be respectful of my illustrious host, even if the most glamorous meal I've eaten was at the birthday party for your friend in the Shire," she said this as she skimmed the pages of the book in her hands. "Why are you reading about Minas Tirith in the Second Age?"

Gandalf snatched the book from her hands, "Never you mind. You have enough to burden your thoughts. I'll take care of my suspicions on my own."

Rian pursed her lips and stood up, "You have kept enough secrets from me. I thought there would be no more. But so be it."

If Gandalf cared about her scathing remark, he did not show it. He didn't reply but buried himself again in his books, so Rian turned and left, heading once more to dinner.

The dining hall, which she found without much trepidation, was full of as much light and beauty as Rian might have expected. The floor was a mosaic of well-polished beautiful stone tiles, and the tables were delicate. The ceiling was lofty, but the quiet sounds of Elves conversing did not echo. While every piece of the room was beautiful, Rian had to admit that it was not over-done or ostentatious like she might have thought. It showed the beauty in simplicity.

As stunning as this was, Rian's favorite part of the room was where it started to lead into the Fire Hall, where the Elves gathered to sing and recite stories. The fire in the center of the hall burned bright, the light bouncing off of the ornate pillars. Chairs and velvet cushions lay strewn about in a mediated manner.