(•CHAPTER THREE•)
the haunt of the past will forever last.
HER VOICE WAS HEAVY and full of remorse as she recalled the story. "I took my horse, belongings and left without a word to anyone." Indilwen finished quietly. "I did not even wish Arwen farewell..." guilt weighed her heart. "How confused she must have been when her feast was ruined by my sudden disappearance." She heaved a sigh and stared at the ground in shame. "She did not understand..."
Aragorn's eyes were full of sympathy as he heard the sorrow in Indilwen's voice. "I am sure she has forgiven you. It was not entirely your choice."
"But it was I who caused it," she murmured, shaking her head. "Yet I am conflicted within my heart. If I hadn't left, I would not be the same. Through my solitude I have learned much, but if I had stayed, my relationship with my family would be healed."
"There is time still for healing." Aragorn smiled to reassure her. "Some things are meant to be, and your choices may change the course of many things." He noticed the pain in Indilwen's distant, glazed eyes and told her, "It does not do to dwell on the past and forget to live in the present."
"Iston. (I know)." Indulgent whispered, blinkering a few rebel tears away. "Hannon le, mellon nîn. (Thank you, my friend)."
Aragorn dipped his head. "Goheno nîn. (I'm sorry)"
"Amman? (Why?)" she asked, looking up at his dark eyes. They were deep and genuine, and she felt like every word spoken by him was true and pure. Those eyes held no greed, or false intentions; they were simple and warm.
"That you experienced such pain in your home." Aragorn said. "Home ought to be a place of comfort, security." His voice grew distant as nostalgia entered his mind. "So long have I wandered..." his gaze flickered over to her. "Have we wandered... I would not wish that sense of homelessness upon anyone. Least of all you."
Indilwen met his eyes sadly, but questioning. She did not understand why he singled her out. Aragorn offered a soft smile and continued, "you belong with your people, in those lands, and you ought to feel safe, at the very least welcome with your kin. I am sorry you did not have that."
Indilwen felt her cheeks fill with warmth at his words and she nodded her head in thanks. She had not met anyone who displayed so much care and understanding in such a short time of knowing her. It was like he could see right through her to the truest feelings of her heart, and speak them aloud. Aragorn's voice was raspy and soft, seeming to glide with the wind in soothing whispers.
"I wish your relationship with your father will be restored. The Elrond who raised me was wiser and fairer. I believe he was ready to forgive you many years ago, only did not know how to reconcile with you." Aragorn told her.
"Ú-moe edaved, ach hannon le. (It is not necessary to be sorry, but thank you.)" she concluded, dropping her head to stare at the ground. The thought of seeing her father again made her uneasy.
The ranger smiled at her as if he were amused. Indilwen raised a questioning brow. "You love the tongue of your people, don't you?" He asked.
"I do," her lips pulled into a soft smile. "It reminds me that I am still one of their people...even if I don't feel it."
"It is comforting," Aragorn agreed.
"Yes.." she whispered softly, her eyes fixed on the stars. They were like the ones she would watch from her bed in Rivendell, beautiful and twinkling. The same stars her curious eyes were entranced by then, still gazed down at her. While they were unchanged, her eyes held many more troubles and pains now.
"Your mother's necklace..what has become of it?" Aragorn asked.
"I was hoping you might have known, as you were raised by Elrond," Indilwen replied.
Aragorn shook his head. "No, no. I have not seen or heard of it. I think it reminded your father of you and your mother. It was too much sorrow for him to bear."
He read Indilwen's troubled expression and added, "he loved you, and still does. Although he never spoke of you, I know. He needed time to realize what he had done." Aragorn's voice grew soft as he was overcome with sentiment. "He raised me like I was his own. You ought to forgive him, Indilwen. He has changed, and so have you."
Indilwen looked away uncomfortably. Long had she hid from her past, not wanting to confront her father or her people, even if it was inside her own thoughts. Despite the many years Indilwen had been away, she never considered whether she had forgiven her father. Now that she was faced with that decision, she was frightened.
Aragorn stared at her with a smile, transfixed by the complex emotions displayed on her features. He suddenly felt a surge of emotion for this elf he had just met. The moonlight shone onto her sheer, pale skin, that despite her many years of roaming in the wild, remained unblemished. A light pink was dusted across her cheeks and nose like glittering sand; the rosy color reflected her vibrant, flowing hair. The wind tossed her red waves back and forth but Indilwen did not try to contain them. Her hair was free and wild, but not unkempt; the way it tumbled in a rolling sea of fiery red only made her appear fiercer. The boldness of her hair was then softened by Indilwen's bright, almond eyes that told the story of her life through their curious twinkle, and deep longing. They were the type of eyes you could be forever intrigued by. The longer you looked, the more they revealed, but a glassy twinkle always remained, forever a symbol of her adventurous spirit.
She was the perfect balance of sharp and soft; with burning, unruly hair like tongues of flame and thick, piercing brows, but also expressive, caring eyes and the most supple, plump lips. Aragorn's gaze was wide, with brows raised in awe; the way her eyes stared at the stars, and how their light reflected back in hers like jewels reminded him of his days in Rivendell. In that enchanted and ethereal place where everything shone with immaculate beauty, he grew up accustomed to its grandeur. Now, he thought he had never seen anything glisten as bright as the emerald in Indilwen's eyes.
"I'm afraid the strain from the journey has caught up with me and I am feeling unusually tired.." Indilwen broke the silence once she noticed his stare.
Aragorn blinked and shook himself slightly. "Of course," he nodded and took off his cloak. "It is a chilly night. Would you like a blanket?"
She smiled gratefully and took it from his hands slowly. "I am thankful. Loro vae (Sleep well.)"
"Loro vae..." Aragorn repeated, still gazing at her.
Indilwen lowered herself against the earth, feeling the prick of stones and tickle of grass, but the cloak, though worn and rough, felt softer than velvet. What alone was a cloak? Nothing, but kindness made it everything. The generosity of Aragorn could transform the harshest material into silk.
Even as Indilwen lay, she could feel the eyes of Aragorn as if they were the sun's rays; the warmth from them spread across her body in soothing waves. Indilwen closed her eyes and relaxed knowing Aragorn was watching over her. It had been decades since she ever received any hospitality, much less companionship. Her heart soared at the possibility that she meant something to someone, meant enough for them to protect, watch, and care for.
Soon, Indilwen drifted off to sleep, but Aragorn remained where he was, lost in his thoughts, with eyes fixed on the peaceful she-elf, watching her chest rise and fall deeply as if he were in a trance.
•——*•*——•
The company made it to Rivendell the next day, anxious for Frodo and desperate to see him. Indilwen did not share these feelings, however. She knew Frodo had survived and was healing, for she sensed it in her heart.
At the sight of Rivendell, her beautiful home, the land of her people— she felt a great uneasiness settle in her stomach.
Indilwen did not feel ready to reconcile with her father, nor did she feel comfortable stepping into land she had been banished from. All the elves had grown to distaste her, and with their heightened awareness of who enters their territories, Indilwen knew she had already been found. It sent shivers across her arms to know that any set of eyes lurking in the woods could be staring her down, following her steps and ready to send her back to the wilderness.
A churning, gnawing anxiety grew inside her stomach with each step they took. As their surroundings grew familiar, Indilwen had waves of memories pouring into her head; her last look at Rivendell before she left, when tears blurred her vision and all she could make out were the blotches of color from autumn leaves, and her many young adventures in these woods, hunting and singing, but always returning home to a scolding father.
Aragorn looked at her with searching eyes as they gazed down into the valley. "You are frightened."
"Yes," Indilwen admitted, her eyes staring in disbelief at the city before her. "All the memories and the pain that came with this place... it is all returning and I don't know if I have the strength to face it."
"Do not doubt yourself," Aragorn reassured her. "Elrond will welcome you, but it cannot only be one-sided. You must also."
"I don't know if I have the will." She muttered bitterly.
Aragorn turned away at her tone and walked along ahead of her. The hobbits were busy marveling at the sight of Rivendell and had already begun the descent into the valley. Indilwen's breathing became shallow as she struggled to continue on. It had been so long side she saw these lands, over a hundred years. The last time she was here, her eyes were red with tears and her heart shattered when she looked upon her home one last time.
Now that Indilwen had returned, her mind was raging with fright mingled with hatred.
They would never see her as one of their own again, and her father had ripped away all familial honor from Indilwen. Elrond had made her ridicule to the people, a disgrace to all who knew her and taken the last gift of her beloved mother. She would not be welcome, despite whatever claims Aragorn had made, and she was not eager to forgive her kin.
"My lady!" A familiar voice called.
Indilwen jerked back to her senses and looked at Aragorn who was waiting for her a bit farther off. She stroked her horse's mane for comfort and whispered to him, "onward." He trotted slowly, with hooves falling into the worn ground many feet had traveled. Each step was a memory; Indilwen knew this road unlike any other, and without thinking, she avoided every crevice, jutting rock or uneven ground with ease.
But with each step her fear grew bubbling inside her. Word must have already come to her father that she returned. There were watchmen and scouts all along the woods outside Rivendell, and her brilliant black stallion was famous to all the Elves, for it was the only jet black horse among them. Some saw it as a sign of darkness and death, while others thought she was odd and unusual to ride such a mysterious steed. His name was Nostarion, meaning 'noble birth'. He was a foal born to Elrond's horse, which was considered royal among the Elves, but the color of his coat made many distaste him. Indilwen never cared what rumors surrounded her horse, and if anything, treasured Nostarion more for his uniqueness.
Indilwen had tested his speed and concluded he was the fastest horse she had ever ridden. They had such a close, connected bond that she would protect him with her life. They responded to each other like old friends and could sense when they were in need.
At this moment, when Indilwen was nearly shaking from nerves, Nostarion snorted to her loudly. He reared back with a whinny and recoiled from Rivendell. Indilwen tightened her grip on his neck and whispered, "I feel it too."
Aragorn continued to look back at her, waiting for her move. Indilwen met his eyes with a stubborn stare and shook her head. She would not enter Rivendell. He understood with a glance and dipped his head sadly. His eyes longed for her to follow him, but Indilwen's unwavering gaze would not submit. She pressed a polite hand to her chest in farewell and turned away on her steed. Aragorn placed his hand over his heart in return but it was not seen; Indilwen's flowing hair whipped around in the wind as she rode away.
Aragorn's heart fell as the sound of hooves faded and regret began to lay heavy on his chest. He did not know if he were to ever to gaze upon that wild hair or fair face again. He enjoyed her company and knew her skills would be useful for whatever task was to come. However, he had no idea whether she would even consider the future of the ring. Okay She seemed too attached to her solitary ways.
Indilwen rode away on her stallion with relief releasing the weight on her chest. The wind felt free on her cheeks and pushed her onward, away from the bitter and haunting land that no longer held any warmth for her. An excited smile worked its way onto her lips, and as her legs fell comfortably on Nostarion's sides, a newfound energy was released inside her. She patted his hide eagerly and with a sudden burst of speed they raced forward, charging down the narrow path with grace and ease, each hoof planting in the dirt with exact precision. Last she had rode along this path, tears stained her cheeks, but the same swiftness to run was still alight.
The wind against her cheeks lit a new fire in her spirit. There was no hesitation or doubt in the movement of Nostarion, nor of his rider. The trees grew closer and their branches seemed to stretch out to welcome her back into their embrace. She welcomed it.
Indilwen turned from her past again, but as she looked over the valley at the top of the hill, her eyes sparkled with a twinge of remorse, and a part of her heart still ached with a longing for home.