•{CHAPTER FOUR}•
where the road shall take me, i cannot tell.
LONG WEEKS PASSED AS INDILWEN travelled the lands, returning to her old lifestyle of exile and scavenging. She roamed forests, hills and mountains without purpose, led on by a relentless anxiety in her heart, nagging her at every moment. It was a churning in her stomach that never eased and pressed her to constantly move, but to where she did not know. This restlessness tortured her in her daily thoughts, her dreams, her muscles and her heart. It was like she was searching for a memory that had long been forgotten. She had but a grasp of the idea of what she felt but did not know where to go or what to do.
For months Indilwen wandered idly, seeking peace in many towns and lands, but to no avail. The restless desire never left her no matter how far she traveled, or how much rest she took, or where she lodged. Even Nostarion began to be affected by her anxieties. His temper would become short and irritable, only further frustrating his rider. Indilwen continued to use the one solution she thought possible: running away. As she rode across many lands, she heard talk of a growing darkness. Strange creatures were found in peaceful towns wreaking havoc. The wraiths' evil had stained the village of Bree and made their people terrified. However, most of all she could feel the change in her heart. Besides the restlessness to keep moving, there was a deep ache resting on her conscience that grew day by day with the pains of all people and their lives afflicted with suffering.
Indilwen trudged along through forests and plains, cloaked with a green hood and armed with a sword and bow. Nostarion was loyal and steadfast, always obedient but also agitated by some unseen force. When his rider would want to travel west, Nostarion would rear and snort in disagreement. Indilwen would force him on, but he did so reluctantly. When they rode north, Nostarion tried to redirect their path, and Indilwen, after several occasions of this happening, finally gave in. For she was tormented by thoughts of her family, of Rivendell and of Aragorn who was the only creature who was able to lead her back to her homeland. Indilwen would not dare to be within a week's journey from Rivendell until Aragorn had somehow lifted her fear from her. He had brought her the closest to home than she had been for decades. She had nearly made it to the gates before succumbing to her fear and pride she did not want to admit to.
Aragorn surprised and confused her and had occupied her thoughts for many days. She left him with not too great of an impression, but the longer she pondered over the short time they shared together, the more Indilwen's restlessness increased. She valued his leadership and protective nature, and had never before met a man who balanced strength with gentleness. He reconnected her to her past and had been her first companion since her exile. She remembered his words, "I would not with homelessness upon anyone, least of all you," and grew amazed knowing that Aragorn had given her the more comfort in a few days than anything she experienced in solitude. That peek into a life of companionship softened her heart she had kept cold for so long, and made her longing for that sense of comfort to return. Indilwen did not believe she would ever find friendship after leaving Rivendell, but the taste of trusting again had enraptured her lonely spirit and became the forefront desire of her heart.
When Indilwen's thoughts turned to Aragorn, she ached to find him again, whether she acknowledged that or not, and her heart led her towards it. She loosened her grip on the reigns and patted Nostarion on the neck. "Lead on." Indilwen whispered with a smile.
Their course changed and she wandered without thought of her destination or purpose. Nostarion led them freely into the wilderness, sticking close to the Misty Mountains. Indilwen's confidence grew as they traveled south; something simply felt right.
Weeks passed. The horse and rider kept a steady course, and darkness grew. It was found in the ash falling from the clouds, the smell of smoke across the plains and groaning trees lamenting in their dying forests. Indilwen found herself growing closer to Isengard, which she only realized as the sky turned to a dull gray and the mountains' weather turned more violent. Some dark power was growing in Isengard and Indilwen feared for the wizard who occupied the tower. The North-South road led them to the Gap of Rohan, where Indilwen gazed as far as she could see and was met with rolling hills of dusty tan.
The land of the horse-men was a long stretch of dry grass occupied by thatched houses, horses and simple people. Indilwen relished in the wind blowing through her hair and the fresh taste of earth that it carried. Her forest green eyes were a bright contrast to the barren sea of plains. Nostarion shuffled back and forth as they peered over the land and at a sudden wind gust, he reared back. Indilwen held him steady and calmed him in Elvish. She was unsure of what he was frightened of, until an acrid, metallic and putrid smell reached her nose. Indilwen scrunched up her eyes and recoiled slightly.
That smell had been forever imprinted on Indilwen's senses; rotting, burning flesh. Memories were awoken by the first hint of those fumes: orcs.
"Stay on your guard," she told her steed. Indilwen was wary of her surroundings as they advanced into Rohan territory. Orcs should not be seen in these lands, much less burning. If smoke was rising from Isengard and orcs were present in peaceful lands, Indilwen feared that her meeting with the Hobbits and Strider would have another role in her story. The powerful tool the young Frodo Baggins possessed must be connected to the growing darkness that overshadowed many lands. The Nazgûl did not chase after Hobbits for entertainment...
Indilwen realized with a sickening lurch in her stomach. Sauron's servants had not reappeared for ages, but when they did, it was for the hunt of one item: the one ring.
She suddenly kicked Nostarion onward and they raced across the plains with unmatched speed. Her hood flew off her face and her hair rippled like waves of flame. The long sleeves of her robe flew out behind her and Indilwen appeared like streaks of flying colors. Nostarion rode swiftly and delighted in the free range. They travelled with a purpose now: to discover the source of evil that had entered Isengard and Rohan.
The stench of smoke grew stronger as they neared Isengard, and Indilwen slowed her pace to be on the lookout for any threat. Nostarion was tense and nervous in his trot, and his rider's hand was always hovering over her sword. They met no adversary and continued until the festering ash and burnt pine became the only scent surrounding them. The plains had turned into sparse trees, but Indilwen blended into the foliage. Isengard should be close- or so she thought.
The tree line stopped quite suddenly. Indilwen and Nostarion broke into the open and were frozen to the earth at the sight before them. Trees were torn down and uprooted everywhere. Where the forest should have continued, there was parched earth and burnt logs. There were roaring fires in the earth surrounding the massive, dark tower of Isengard. Clanging, howling and horrid sounds of every kind filled the air. Orcs roamed every part of the land, cutting down trees, crafting weapons, fueling furnaces to spread their evil.
Indilwen could not risk her appearance there. She quickly regained her breath and turned Nostarion back into the protection of the forest and rode on without a second glance behind her. The new horror planted in her heart urged her onward, as far away from the massacre of the forest as she could. Indilwen fled into the thicker forest where the tree stumps became towering pillars of wood and the leaves blocked out the sun. The air was musty and rich, filled with the slow groaning of trees and soft, moist earth underfoot. Indilwen paused to catch her breath and gazed around her. She found herself in Fangorn Forest.
This forest was home to the Ents, ancient trees that could move and talk, brought to life by the elves ages past. Many feared it from legends of its danger, but Indilwen did not believe the trees would harm her. As her eyes travelled around the tall mass of trees, Indilwen suddenly reached for her sword and drew it swiftly.
"Lower your arm, Elrenniel." A rumbling voice broke through the silence.
Indilwen whipped around to face the speaker and saw an old man in long white garb and staff. Her eyes were narrowed and piercing as she held her sword at the ready. As she processed the words, her chest fell and her sword faltered. "What did you say?" Indilwen breathed.
"You need not fear me," the man smiled. "I will not harm you."
Indilwen's brows furrowed together as she looked him up and down. Even Nostarion snorted at his appearance. He had a long white beard and hair, cloak, belt and boots, all white. She would think he was Saruman except for his chuckling voice and kind, twinkling eyes. "Who are you? How do you come to call me Elrenniel?" Indilwen demanded.
"You know who I am, Indilwen," the old man replied. "I watched you grow for many years in the company of your father."
Those witty eyes— that also held so much wisdom, and that cheeky smile she had grown so accustomed to seeing when she was young. The same face and beard, only it was no longer gray. "Mithrandir?" Indilwen exclaimed.
"Greetings, young Indilwen. It has been quite some time since we last met." The old wizard replied.
Indilwen brightened with joy at his presence. "Yes," she smiled. "I-I don't know what to say." A light chuckle escaped her. "Why are you here?"
Mithrandir answered, "I am here to bring two strings of fate together and unite them. You did not happen to come to Fangorn forest by accident, Indilwen. You have a purpose here."
Indilwen placed her sword back at her side and dismounted her horse. She walked toward the old man and responded, "it is good to see you, Mithrandir. Tell me what it is you want of me."
The old wizard known as Mithrandir to the elves and Gandalf to common folk had roamed the earth for as long as it had existed. He had been a gentle, kind, playful yet wise figure to Indilwen in her youth, and knew him to be in counsel with the high elves often. He was close to her father and came and went as he pleased, sometimes not appearing for decades. Indilwen always enjoyed his company but had not seen him since her exile. However, she knew that he of all people would not hold anything against her, and was grateful to find him again.
They sat together in the shade of a large tree and he explained many things to her. Since her encounter with Aragorn and the Hobbits, the enemy that had long dwelled in hiding rose to power again.
Indilwen spoke of her encounter with Isengard and the Nazgûl, and Mithrandir confirmed her suspicion that the ring of power had been found. Frodo Baggins, the Hobbit her sister saved, was the ringbearer and brought the one ring to Rivendell. Her father had held a council with all races to determine how to destroy the dark lord's weapon. Nine companions set out on route to Mordor, but Gandalf was separated with them in Moria. Another was lost on the river from Lothlorien. Two young hobbits, Merry and Pippin were recently captured by orcs and taken to Isengard when they were stopped by riders of Rohan. They sought refuge in Fangorn forest and were placed in the good hands of an Ent, Treebeard. Gandalf was here to reunite with the remaining fellowship and aid the fight against Sauron and Isengard. She learned Saruman had turned his allegiance to the enemy and was building an army of Uruk-Hai, stronger and filthier orcs than ones from Mordor.
Indilwen was shocked to learn this, and pondered all the news for several minutes in silence. Her heart was weighted with grief and horror at the rampage of the Uruk-Hai, and terrified of the return of the Dark Lord Sauron. If the ring was lost, there would be little hope for Middle Earth to fight the approaching darkness. Indilwen asked in a somber whisper, "what is my part in this?"
Mithrandir chuckled fondly. "Even I cannot see all things, but I can see that before the end, you will change the lives of many." He paused and fixed her with a solemn gaze. "This battle for Middle Earth will call all peoples to fight, and you are called here. I have seen it."
•——*•*——•
The air was close and dense, muffling all sound except for the rustle of trees overheard. Gandalf was dazzling in his cloak and seemed to glow with an white aura. They were waiting to find the rest of the fellowship, but the details of who they were, Indilwen did not know. They strolled through the foliage listening to the quiet atmosphere, and the elf was waiting for the wizard's direction. After several minutes of silence, Indilwen became aware of a familiar presence approaching her. She cast a curious eye to Gandalf and posed a question. "Mithrandir?"
"Mmm?" He murmured.
"Who exactly are we meeting?" Indilwen asked.
A small cheeky smile tugged at the corner of the wizard's lips. She knew immediately that he was hiding something from her. "Mithrandir..."
Gandalf raised his brows and answered casually, "oh...an elf from the woodland realm, a dwarf and.. a man."
"What... man?" Indilwen narrowed her brows.
The wizard turned to her with a blank, innocent face. "A ranger of the North."
Indilwen grinned and rolled her eyes. "Aragorn.. of course."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled with mischief. "He told me of your encounter at Amun Sûl. Although you may not have wanted to continue with the fate of the ring, it seems it has come back to find you."
This prophesy troubled Indilwen; her eyes fell to the floor and her brows narrowed. The wizard noticed and assured her, "do not be afraid, Indilwen. Your meeting with Aragorn was not by chance. Your strengths may not have been fit for the elves, but they can be for a greater purpose. You are needed here, Maetharanel (warrior princess.)"
Indilwen looked up in surprise at that name and couldn't help a grateful smile to grow on her lips. That title had not been spoken to her since her youth, and was later used as mockery by elder elves to show their distaste of her aggressive behavior. Gandalf, however, used it as a noble title and for that, Indilwen was encouraged. "Hannon le (thank you)." She said softly.
Gandalf seemed to see right through her and knew exactly how to comfort her troubles. Indilwen had forgotten how much she appreciated his counsel and soothing tone. "I have missed you, Mithrandir." She admitted.
A rumbling, hearty chuckle came from the wizard and he gazed upon her fondly. "I too, my dear Indilwen, I too."
The trees groaned loudly and the earth trembled underfoot. Gandalf paused in his step and held out at arm to halt Indilwen, but she had already drawn her sword. The trees had been disturbed.
"Stay behind me, and I will tell you when to come forward," the wizard whispered sternly.
The elf nodded and stepped into the shadow after Gandalf. The crunching of leaves and twigs alerted them of the approaching company. They continued slowly on, with the wizard slipping between foliage and tree trunks, awaiting the newcomers. It was not long before Indilwen spotted a trio consisting of a blonde elf with keen eyes and long bow at the ready, a red headed dwarf armed heavily and a man whom she recognized immediately. His dark hair fell shaggily just onto his shoulders that were draped with a dusty green cloak clipped with an elvish pendant. A sword hilt was glistening at his side under a brown leather belt. His face was worn and more weathered than the last time they met, but still chiseled and assertive.
The smallest of smiles, nearly imperceivable spread across Indilwen's lips. Something about the way he held himself and kept that collected, assured expression gave her confidence to follow his leadership wherever it would take her. She watched them mutter warily to each other and peer intently into the forest. Each grasped his weapon and waited tensely but before they could react, Gandalf had climbed onto a rocky ledge overlooking the trio and erupted into a blast of blinding light.
Indilwen shielded her eyes immediately and recoiled at the intense rays that emitted from the wizard who had transformed into a star ablaze with white.
The dwarf roared as he threw his axe straight into the radiant glow that spread its light throughout the whole forest. A shining staff shattered the weapon in an instant, and when the elf shot an arrow, it was destroyed with it. Aragorn raised his sword but the metal sizzled and turned a fiery orange; he watched in horror and dropped it quickly. The trio was defenseless.
At first, Indilwen did not know whether Gandalf was threatening them or putting on an act, but she could hardly see from the intensity of the light. The group staggered backward from the bright glow and tried to make out the shape of the wizard.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," the figure spoke, but although Indilwen knew him to be Gandalf, the voice was distorted and deeper.
"Where are they?" Aragorn demanded and took a step forward fearlessly.
"They passed this way the day before yesterday." Gandalf's voice began to sound more like his own. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"
Aragorn squinted from the light but gazed upon the wizard with narrowed brows. "Who are you?" The words were breathless.
Indilwen smirked, realizing Gandalf was purposely messing with them and watched as Aragorn yelled, "show yourself!"
The light faded from the wizard into a softer glow and revealed his face. The ranger lowered his arm and gazed with wide eyes. "It cannot be," he whispered in amazement.
The dwarf staggered and the elf fell to one knee. "Forgive me, I mistook you for Saruman." He spoke reverently.
Gandalf replied, "I am Saruman. Or rather Saruman as he should have been." His lips curved slightly up at the ends and he looked upon his friends fondly. Their leader had returned to them.
Aragorn peered closer and could not believe what lay before him. "You fell.." he murmured in a voice thick with emotion.
"Through fire..." Gandalf recalled, "and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth, until at least I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside."
Chills ran down Indilwen's back as she heard him speak with such fervor. She realized that to the trio, Gandalf had died, and all the hope he carried was lost with him. They stood in shock as the return of the mighty wizard seemed too good to be true.
"Darkness took me..." Gandalf said slowly, "and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again."
Indilwen beheld Gandalf with amazement; he radiated light like a divine being, and she was overcome with wonder at the grandeur of his power. The trio seemed struck with both relief and awe at his return.
"I've been sent back," Gandalf told them, "until my task is done."
"Gandalf..." Aragorn whispered as he stepped closer.
Upon hearing this, the wizard's brows knitted together in a moment of temporary confusion. "Gandalf...? Oh yes..." he smiled. "That is what they used to call me.."
Aragorn nodded gently.
"Gandalf the Grey...!" The wizard remembered. "That was my name."
The dwarf gave a hearty chuckle and exclaimed, "Gandalf!"
The wizard's eyes turned towards the dwarf kindly and he smiled. "I am Gandalf the White."
The elf grinned and Indilwen noticed his eye turn towards the trees around her, looking for something. Gandalf gazed intently into Aragorn's eyes. "And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."
The wizard turned behind him and met Indilwen's eyes through the leaves shadowing her. She understood that as her cue to join them, and took a step forward into the reach of daylight. All eyes fell upon her hair that shone like fire in the sun, and the freckles that danced across her face were accompanied by dappled light on her cheeks. Her dark grey
cloak flowed in the wind and revealed her silver scabbard under a thick leather belt that crisscrossed over her hips. The hood fell just over her forehead with the front decorated with intricate shapes laced with gold. The sword hilt glistened with jewels that showed their elven heritage, along with the wooden bow strapped to her back. Her forest green shirt was draped around her waist with brown leather at the seams. Tan fur hugged her toned arms and led into iron vambraces that covered her arm. They were forged with elven symbols, along with her shining shoulder plates that had faded with age. A brown chest plate held tight to her body and was thatched with elvish rope. Her pants were tucked into long leather boots splotched with mud and held two silver daggers on their sides.
She appeared from the trees like a flash of color from her vibrant locks mingled with the earthy tones that camouflaged her with the forest. It was a powerful sight, not angelic like Gandalf, but powerful in a different way. Indilwen had slipped out like a shadow, so comfortable in her environment that none of the group had known she was there. Mystery surrounded her that intrigued the trio, but also a striking impression that told them of her strength in only a glimpse.
Her eyes glittered in the light and fell first onto Aragorn. His mouth was slightly ajar as he stared at her in bewilderment, but there was a new spark alight in his gaze.
"Indilwen, daughter of Elrond," Gandalf said fondly and gestured toward her, "has been led to Fangorn forest to light a fire that will sweep through the lands of men and inspire their hearts to rise against the forces of evil." His keen eyes were particularly set on Aragorn as he spoke, but the ranger was only focused on the elf.
Indilwen was slightly surprised by Gandalf prophesying this bold acclamation, and felt unworthy to be talked so heroically of. She had been nothing more than a lone ranger for the last century and never thought to rekindle friendships or trust in others again. But there she was, standing amongst an old wizard she thought of as a grandfather, a ranger she had naturally found faith in, and strangers she agreed to fight alongside. If that change was possible, perhaps Indilwen would be able to live up to Gandalf's predictions. Or perhaps he was only speaking in the same vast riddles she was used to hearing. This one, however, felt different. Something in his tone inspired her to believe these words were meaningful but also obtainable.
"Indilwen..." Aragorn gasped, still stunned by her appearance.
She offered him a smile, but felt her eyes had lingered on him too long. Indilwen turned to the elf whom she did not recognize and nodded in greeting.
"Mae g'ovannen, Elrenniel. (You are well met, daughter of Elrond)." The elf greeted her.
"Mae g'ovannen," she replied.
Gandalf introduced him to Indilwen. "This is Legolas, son of Thranduil, from Mirkwood." She bowed after learning his heritage, knowing that he was a prince of the woodland elves. Legolas did so in turn. "And this is Gimli, son of Gloin." Gandalf acknowledged the dwarf.
He spoke in a gruff, rumbling voice that stemmed deep from his broad chest. "It is a pleasure, fair lady."
Indilwen thanked him and then turned her head toward the forest again. She called, "Nostarion!" and a moment later the shining horse emerged from the foliage with muscles rippling in the sunlight.
Gimli gasped and exclaimed, "that is a mighty steed!"
Gandalf chuckled, and Legolas murmured, "I have heard tales of the black horse of Rivendell, the only one of its kind."
Indilwen grinned and watched as Nostarion first trotted toward Aragorn and nuzzled his head with his nose. The ranger smiled and stroked him, murmuring in Elvish.
"He remembers you," Indilwen was first to speak. "And likes you, it seems. That is a rare thing."
Aragorn raised his head to look at her and brightened. Her tone was polite but also playful, and he was pleased to not find her bitter after their last meeting. "It is an honor." He ran his hands through Nostarion's mane before guiding him back to his rider.
Aragorn and Indilwen shared a look that displayed feelings of delight at their reunion but she noticed a deeper sorrow in his; the pains that had afflicted him in the time since were visible on his features. Behind the ranger's alert grey-green eyes were stored memories: all that those eyes had seen. They held the sorrow of losing his fellow man, the burden of leading the fellowship, anxieties of the ring and its bearer, and physical exhaustion that drained some of the glow from his face. Indilwen could see the strain he had gone through since they last met, and noticed there was less spring in his step and steadiness in his voice. He was stoic, still, but weary.
In Indilwen, that restlessness that pestered her for months had finally settled, although she did not realize it until the dancing nerves in her stomach had died down, and her face seemed to radiate with energy now that she had found a purpose again. All that time wandering had eaten away at her cold heart and left her hungry, searching for something she could not find. The chance to raise up arms again and fight ignited the warrior spirit within her, and the return of old friends gave her hope for a better future. Indilwen was ready to play her part that Gandalf was so sure she was fit for.
A/N
Yes we skipped to the Two Towers but it really wouldn't make sense for Indilwen to join the fellowship considering her goals were not aligned with the ring and she could not face Elrond, so she's come into play in a different way. Hope you enjoyed, all feedback is appreciated!
I imagined her outfit looking like this:
Like I'm sorry this looks so good!! Imagine this 😩 oml so fineee