Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

New Emissaries

Days passed and they marched on. After several travel days, there glinted golden wood near the mountains upon a hill. The small company joyfully went forward now. By nightfall, Edoras rose up before them. The gates stood open still as the five riders dismounted and led their horses on foot. The two guardsmen standing to either side halted them with spears.

“Who enters Edoras?” The one on the left, taller, with blonde hair and blue eyes shining, spoke with authority.

“Fëalas, captain of the Southern Dúnedain!” The woman bowed before the Rohirrim. “I currently escort Lord Elboron of Lady Eowyn’s line and Councilman of the South. With me go three good rangers.”

“Welcome, Lady Fëalas, Lord Elboron!” The man nodded and gestured for the other to pull back his weapon. “You are all welcome here.” He turned to his companion. “Escort them to Meduseld. The King and Prince will want to see them.”

The company thanked the guard and followed his companion through the streets. Men and women of Rohan stopped and watched them, children gossiping curiously. While visiting warriors from Gondor certainly weren't unheard of, Fëalas hadn't set foot in that city in an extremely long time. Many years had passed since she had seen Edoras last, over a decade. As they followed their escort past a massive triple horse fountain, she noticed her rangers looking around in amazement. Perhaps they had never seen Rohan.

The golden doors of Meduseld were thrust open by the door wardens. Éomer and Elfwine stood talking quietly together, the king’s grey hair reflecting the light of the many fires. When they heard the doors open, both looked over to see the visitors.

“King Éomer,” said Fëalas with a bow. “We thank you for your hospitality as we journey to Aglarond.”

“Fëalas, Elboron, it is good to see you.” He inclined his head in greeting. “I am glad we can help.” But then his frown deepened. “I must speak with you Barahir with regards to the death of your brother, though Elfwine has told me some. Any news of who has slain my nephew?”

“I shall leave you to speak.” Fëalas bowed to Éomer and turned back to her rangers.

But Elfwine gestured to her. “Come, follow me Fëalas. Finduilas will be glad to see you.” He turned to Angrendir, Sarnor, and Caenir. “I will have our door wardens show you to the where you will sleep tonight.”

Fëalas nodded to her rangers. Elfwine led the way for her and showed her out of Meduseld in the dark night. They walked side by side, Elfwine standing above her in height now that he was a fully grown man. She still remembered him as the sixteen years old boy they'd traveled with. But fifteen years had passed and he had aged gracefully.

“What are you looking at?” Elfwine flashed a small smile at her as they walked.

“You,” she said with a chuckle. “Just wondering where the boy went.”

With a dramatic eye roll, he replied, “He grew up. How many times must I remind you and your family?”

Fëalas laughed and shook her head. She continued to follow him until they reached a small house with green and gold painted wood. Elfwine knocked lightly. Several moments passed before a blonde haired woman shuffled out her door in a nightgown and robe. When she saw Fëalas she gasped.

“Fëalas!” She rushed forward and took her friend in her arms. “By Elbereth it’s been so long!” Then Finduilas felt tears spring to her eyes. “Is it true? He is dead?”

Elfwine and Fëalas exchanged a glance. The redheaded ranger took Finduilas’ hands in her own. “Yes. I am so sorry.”

“My, my parents-” she gasped for breath, trying to regain composure. “Elfwine told us everything. But I must go see Elboron, and my parents.”

“You should,” Fëalas instantly agreed. “Lady Eowyn is at the Houses of Healing now. Ask King Éomer. He will want to go as well, I'm sure.”

Elfwine nodded immediately. “My father and I have already discussed it.”

They went inside and spoke for many hours. Eventually Elfwine left them, and Fëalas slept in Finduilas’ spare room. When the next day dawned and breakfast had been had, Fëalas bid farewell to her friends and told them to watch for her in the next week or so returning.

The next several days of travel remained uneventful. The land between Edoras and the Hornburg stayed safe thanks to the work of the Rohirrim. Travel was easy and proved quick. And so after several days of riding the small company caught sight of Helm’s Deep.  Lord Elden welcomed them warmly. They arrived at midday, and he showed then straight through to the Helm’s Deep entrance to the city of Aglarond.

“Who requests entry?”

Four stout dwarves stood in battle armor with axes and swords. The one who had spoken took off his helmet. “You are not Rohirrim.”

Fëalas dismounted and bowed. “Lady Fëalas, at your service master dwarf. These are Lord Elboron, and my rangers are Angrendir, Caenir, and Sarnor. We come to visit Lord Gimli on behalf of King Elessar.”

“Ah! Good! I am Ivar, at your service.” The dwarf nodded quickly and had his companions step aside. “Gondorian royalty is always welcome here. Follow me.”

They left their horses at the stables just inside the massive entrance. Fëalas watched as her rangers looked in awe at the grand halls of the Glittering Caves. Shining veins of precious metals climbed like vines across the stones. Great lamps sprayed light in myriad patterns across the walls and floors.

“Come, come my friends!” Ivar chuckled at them, glancing back at them. “Lord Gimli will want to see you. Do not tarry.”

And so the rangers hurried after their captain and councilman. Up many steps and through streets of stone they hurried, crossing before taverns and markets. Dwarves of all sorts lived here; they watched the people of Aulë in awe. At last Ivar led them to the citadel that Gimli occupied. The dwarf in question stood outside his doors, watching the city folk bustling about. When he caught sight of the visitors his eyebrow shot up.

“Welcome, friends!” Gimli grinned wide in approval. Then he turned to Ivar. “Go, find Ambi and Nîm. Bring them to me.”

Ivar bowed and rushed off, leaving the visitors with his lord. Fëalas smiled warmly at Gimli. “Thank you for having us, Lord.”

“Of course, Fëalas!” Gimli gestured to a nearby guard. “Show the rangers to the nearest tavern, Thimold. See they are given as much drink as they desire on my authority!”

Sarnor bowed profusely while Angrendir and Caenir thanked him. They left a laughing Fëalas and followed Thimold back into the city. She then turned back to Gimli.

“You must know why we are here, Lord,” Elboron began as they walked into the citadel.

“Because my old friend misses me?” He turned and winked at them. “No. Because Aragorn sees fit for us to have a representative in Minas Tirith.”

Elboron chuckled. “Yes. Have you selected someone?”

Gimli led them to his study. Fëalas had never been here and immediately her eyes fell on the sign of Gimli's house: the three strands of Galadriel’s hair. He had placed them in a gold and mithril and glass case above his desk. She tore her gaze away and sat down with them.

“I have.” Gimli nodded. “Two, in fact. My son, Nîm. He is a good lad, smart. He needs practice and I believe he will do well.”

Elboron nodded shortly. “And the second?”

“Ambi, a dwarf of Dain’s house,” said the lord. “He is a good judge of character, and a cousin twice removed of Durin of Moria. I trust him and my son with his life despite his youth.”

At that, a knock sounded at the door. Ivar entered at Gimli’s command. Following him came two dwarves. The first had dark hair and a beard of three braids braided into one. Golden ribbons threaded these decorative displays. The second was slightly taller with well defined cheekbones. His hair was a red-blonde and his beard trimmed relatively short for dwarf custom. He styled his beard with tiny braids.

“Fëalas, Elboron, you remember Nîm, my son.” Gimli gestured to the dark haired dwarf. “And this is Ambi.”