Chapter 2
Ára soon learned the depth of Lord of Imladris’ seriousness. Three days after their initial discussion in Elrond’s study, which Ára had used to spend equal time with Gilraen and Estel and holed up in the library— which was at least as awesome as Hogwarts library had ever been, even without magic beyond preservation spells on the old scrolls and books, her great-aunt Hermione would have been terribly jealous— Ára came to her apartment to find numerous bundles of clothing neatly arranged on the table in her sitting room.
Ára hadn’t thought much about having her measurements taken after lunch the same day she had confessed her nature to the Elven Lords. She had been in Middle-Earth long enough, had heard countless stories of the hospitality of Imladris, and especially of Elrond himself, to merely think she would have a few articles of clothing tailored to fit her. Her, Gilraen, and Estel, had after all, arrived with nothing but what they had carried with them after the ambush which killed Arathorn.
The amount of clothing sitting innocently in her rooms, however, was much more than she would have thought would be given to her. They also appeared, at first glance, to be much more finely made than she would have expected as a mere guest, even quartered with the Lord’s family.
She could have transfigured her own clothing, if she’d gotten her hands on cloth, and she had planned on doing just that. She probably still would, at least for traveling and training clothes. But by the Valar—and yes she had been in Arda long enough to take on various populace’s phrases— Ára suspected she had underestimated Elrond. Both his seriousness and his humor.
She took the next hour to unpack the bundles of clothing, most of which were dresses and undergarments, with a few sets of tunics and trousers—she wondered who to thank for that welcome addition to her wardrobe, even if they too were much finer than she would have wanted for travel and training clothes—and put them into the chest of drawers into the bedroom of the apartment she had quickly, perhaps too quickly, come to think of as hers.
Each dress was finely embroidered, some with silver thread, and some with gold. There were various patterns on most of them, of vines, leaves, and multiple types of flowers. The few plain colored dresses were still finely made, even if the stitching was ordinary, they shone with the talent of the seamstress who made them.
The tunics and trousers were of the same quality, and made of fine fabrics as well. Ára was not familiar to wearing such elegant clothing, more used to the rougher fabrics and simpler clothes the Dúnedain Rangers of the North preferred to wear, especially while traveling through the wilds. In fact, the finest clothing Ára ever wore was when she traveled among the upper levels of the city while visiting Minas Tirith. Still, the clothes she had been gifted here in Imladris were of even finer make, as they had been sewn by Elven hands, and a seamstress—or multiple—who had hundreds of years of experience in their craft.
After finishing unpacking her clothing, Ára grabbed a book from her bedside table which she had been reading the night before, and took herself to the private garden which was situated next to hall in which Elrond’s family and closest advisors—Glorfindel and Erestor—lived. Truly, she thought as she made her way down the hall towards Elrond’s room, before taking a left turn out of the hall and into the luscious garden, Ára was still in a bit of shock.
Gilraen had taken the change of home, and her status within Elrond’s household, with better grace, even in her recent grief, than Ára felt herself to be dealing with it. Ára had spent so long being the Guardian of the Dúnádan, and first councilor of the Chieftain of the Rangers, that her status within Elrond’s household had not quite come to feel entirely real yet. She had yet to meet with either Elven Lord again in the past three days, though she knew another meeting was bound to happen, as Gilraen had met with Elrond once more, and with Estel in tow.
Estel had been told of him being adopted into Elrond’s House, as a son, and that he would be called Estel from then on, and he had taken it as well as any small toddler could have, if even better. It probably helped that Gilraen was supportive of every measure. Estel loved and respected his mother immensely, and Ára was constantly amazed that even with as young as he was that he was so smart. His father, Arathorn, had been intelligent as well, and obviously Gilraen was keen of mind and wise for her years, so their son would have inherited that intelligence, but still, Ára thought he seemed almost like what she imagined a young Hermione Granger would have been, so curious he was. He retained everything, though, and Ára would have to speak in Quenya with Gilraen or even Arathorn if their son was around and she didn’t want him to know what she was saying. That happened rarely, though, and Ára knew that soon enough even speaking Quenya would not be enough. She would probably have to rely on speaking mind-to-mind if she wanted to keep anything secret in front of Estel, even though very, very few people knew she was capable of such.
As of now, within Imladris, only Gilraen knew. Arathorn had known, as the ability had come in handy quite a few times in various situations. Gildor Inglorion knew also, because it had been necessary when she nearly demanded he not out her true nature to any of his company, not that they had paid all that much attention to her at the time.
The garden was lovely, even in the autumn, and Ára relaxed as she opened her book. To any outside observers, she would simply appear to be reading, when she was in fact meditating and organizing her thoughts. She had not dropped her Occlumency in days, not since the night they had crossed the boundaries of Imladris, and she wasn’t sure she could afford to do so. She knew from tales of those rangers who’d had cause to visit Lóthlorien that the Lady Galadriel held a vast Power and talent for the Elven version of Legillimency, Ára was unsure if anyone in Imladris shared that talent as well.
She suspected that Elrond was so gifted, at least, and possibly Glorfindel as well. Those two being talented with Osanwë would make a lot of sense, and it was even possible Elrond’s children had some small talent, being descended from the Lady Galadriel through her daughter, and Elrond.
So deep in her thoughts was she that she almost didn’t sense the presence of the Elf who had joined her in the garden until he sat next to her.
“Books are meant to be read, my Lady, not stared at,” Lord Erestor remarked dryly.
Sighing, Ára snapped her book shut. “I was going to read, Lord Erestor, but then I became lost in my thoughts, quite quickly as it was.”
He snorted. “This garden does promote such, Elrond can tell you that better than any. But, please, there is no need to be so formal in such a private setting. And if either of us has cause, surely it is I, not you, my Lady.”
Ára shook her head and interrupted him with a wry smile, finally tilting her head to look directly at him. “There is no need, did you not hear days ago your Lord has adopted me into his house?”
Erestor snorted again. “He is peculiar that way, indeed. How have you been finding Imladris?”
Ára rolled her eyes mentally, and it was a near thing not to do so in body. “It is lovely, and peaceful here. The closest I’ve come to feeling truly at home since my arrival in Middle-Earth, if I am being honest.”
Erestor eyed her then, a strange gleam in his eyes. “And are you, being honest?”
Ára laughed at his boldness, but responded nonetheless. “Yes, truly. As soon as I crossed the borders, especially the one at the first bridge, I felt a peace I have not felt in a very long time.”
“Surely Aman feels peaceful and much more like home than Imladris?”
Ára hummed. She had not visited any place in Valinor except for the Halls of Mandos, and there she did not even have a body. But she couldn’t say that to Erestor. “Imladris is certainly not like Valinor,” Ára felt confident that this was true, at least. “But I have been in Middle-Earth for an Age, and much of the recent part of this Age I have spent with the men of the Dúnedain. So, yes, compared to living on my own, traveling and wandering, and living with and wandering with the rangers, Imladris feels very much like home, even with in short amount of time I have been here already. I assume that Elrond had just that intention when he raised the protections for the valley.”
Erestor nodded as he turned from Ára’s gaze to look upon the garden. “Indeed. It is not called the Last Homely House for nothing.”
“Homely indeed,” Ára laughed. “Though I believe that to be the atmosphere, not the architecture.”
“That is true enough, even if the valley is far less populated in these days than it was before.”
“Yes, well, with many Elves sailing west, that would probably be true in every Elven Realm. Was not the Lady Arwen the last Elf-child born on these shores?”
Erestor made of sad agreement. “King Thranduil, of Mirkwood, has a son who was born the same year as Arwen. But yes, they are the youngest Elves to be born on these shores.”
Both Ára and Erestor remained in quiet contemplation after that for a while. Ára was thinking that at least she was older than the two youngest elves in Middle-Earth, and was feeling a bit of a fraud that everyone who knew of her nature believed her to be much older. Older than the world itself. There was something there, niggling at the back of her mind, like a memory or several which she had forgotten, but she let it be. She could feel the Song, Hear it so very clearly sometimes, and she trusted her intuition. It told her she was not meant to know whatever was shrouded from her in thought yet, and that was fine.
She had grown less wroth with the Lord Vala who had placed her here over time, especially as she grew in her instincts and intuition and in trust with the Song—which was quite like the trust and faith she’d had in her magic before being brought to this world. As she had grown to resent the Vala less, she had grown to trust and have faith in the song with such surety, that it eclipsed that which she’d had in her magic alone. Having both now, it was a boon, and she would continue to trust both the Song and her own magic.
Erestor had at first been suspicious, then merely graduated to cautious, after learning the nature of the Lady who had accompanied Lady Gilraen and her son to Imladris. Erestor trusted his Lord, and he even trusted Glorfindel—at least in matters such as this—so he trusted that Lady Ára, who had no desire to hold to formalities, and wasn’t that odd for one of the Spirits, was an ally of no little worth.
He did not, however, believe she had told them anything remotely approaching all she knew and had done. He was still a bit resentful that her presence in Middle-Earth came after Sauron had been defeated at the end of the Second Age, even if he had been reluctantly convinced of the worth of her presence since. He still believed she could have helped in that war more than she thought, but it was true that he had no idea of her true Power.
Was she powerful enough to stand against Sauron as an equal? He did not know, and she had said nothing of her abilities, not really. Which neither he, nor Glorfindel or even Elrond had caught until much later. The three of them had discussed that glaring hole, but both Elrond and Glorfindel reminded Erestor that not even Mithrandír confessed the limit of his Power, let alone any of the other Istari. But the aura of Power which surrounded Ára was vast, if she wasn’t shrouding it that was. And she did shroud her Power when she was around others.
He had felt it the moment he entered the garden, the vast aura of her Power. Even he, who did not have as much sensitivity to such things as Glorfindel and Elrond did, could feel Ára’s Power. And Erestor had felt it, subtle though the shift was in truth, when she’d become aware of his presence as he took a seat next to her, the veiling of her Power.
So no, Erestor was not inclined to wholly trust the female Maia. And Maia she was, as he had never felt such even from the Lady Galadriel, who was quite powerful in her own right. He wanted to shake his head at the thought, for comparing the Lady of Lóthlorien and the Lady Maia Ára was futile. Their Power was not quite similar, though there were sure to be some gifts that seemed so, Erestor was sure. It would be like comparing the two very different colors, in which the main similarity was that they were colors.
Erestor did somewhat like Ára, though. She seemed to have a sense of humor that not even Mithrandír could come close to exhibiting, and she did not try to leave Imladris, even though she had seemed uncomfortable with being here when she’d first arrived. Erestor knew Glorfindel liked her very much, especially as he had spent so little time with her at all in the past three days. Glorfindel had liked her the very night she’d arrived, and had said as much. Erestor had initially been extremely mistrustful of that, and had said as much to Elrond when he’d caught the Lord alone. But there did seem to be this force of quality that seemed to make all who knew the Lady Maia like her. Erestor had heard tales from those rangers who knew her or knew of her and had stayed in Imladris, if they had cause to speak of her. Of course, none had spoken of her nature, and Erestor as well as every other elf in Imladris who’d heard those stories had assumed she was merely a woman.
Erestor may be beginning to liker her, but he would stay watchful all the same.
Finally, he decided to say what he had come to say if he’d found to. “Elrond has invited you to dine with him for the evening meal tonight, in his rooms.”
Ára nodded. “Thank you for telling me, I shall make myself available.”
Erestor stood then, accomplishing even more than he had originally intended to when he’d found her. “Good day, my Lady.” He bowed and retreated, and as he did he heard her snort and laugh.
Erestor smiled. Yes, he may come to like her, even come to call her a friend. But that was not yet.
Elrond sat in the sitting room of his apartments in thought. An elleth from the kitchen staff had just delivered the trays of food for him and his dinner guest, the Lady Ára, and Elrond was unsure of how the conversation he intended to have with the Maia would turn out. In truth, Elrond was feeling very conflicted. He had felt a sense of kinship with her nearly immediately, and her good humor was only one quality which stood her in good stead. Her obvious deep friendship with Gilraen had honestly surprised him. In this age, only Mithrandír out of all the Istari made deep friendships with mortals, and even he was not quite as involved in those friendships as it was immediately obvious Ára was with Gilraen.
Of course, now that he knew Ára was the only one who had stood councilor and Guardian with the Chieftains of the Dúnedain, not merely a woman in a long, unending bloodline, he was even more confused. He alone of all Elves had made anywhere near such deep relationships with those of Men, or at least so he had thought. He wondered how she stood the continuous passing of all those around her, for not even he lived alone, a single immortal being amongst those of mortal kind.
Asking such a question, well, he was unsure how she would take being asked, but he couldn’t not ask her. He was too curious, and besides one of his children still might choose to count themselves to Men and not Elves, even if he dearly wished otherwise. He had a hint of precognition, however much he railed against it, that at least one of his children would share their Fate with Men.
Elrond shook his head as he heard a knock on his door. “Enter.”
Lady Ára, for he still thought of her formally, most times, even if she had been quick to ask him to dispense with such titles, strode in with grace, her long deep, green gown—one of many he’d asked the seamstresses to make and gifted her with—near flowing along the stone floor. She had looked quite more as if she’d been mortal the night she’d arrived with Gilraen and his newest son Estel, until he had looked into her bright, emerald-green eyes. Now, she could pass for any fair elf, even if the coloring of her hair was a bit unusual even compared to those elves of Lóthlorien or even Mirkwood.
“Good evening,” she said with a bow of her head. Respectful, but not so very deferent, more acknowledging than anything. Elrond appreciated it, the way her body language subtly said such encompassing, non-verbal statements.
“Good evening and please, take a seat.” He waved a hand to the chair across the small table before he began to uncover the dishes. “I hope you do not mind dining in private with me tonight, but I wished to speak with you in private, and have been told you had yet to join others in the dining hall.”
She shook her head with a smile. “I do not mind at all,” she said as she began to fix herself a plate, following his example. “In truth, I have been eating either with Gilraen and Estel or on my own. I had hoped to settle in before subjecting your people to someone new. There are sure to be many who are curious of my presence in your household.”
Elrond laughed lightly as he finished plating his food and began to pour a deep, red wine. “Elves are gossips just as much, if not more so than Men, I’ve come to know over the many years. You will not, however, be the only one subject to their curiosity. Gilraen and Estel will at least share it, and Estel perhaps even more, as he is a child.”
Ára accepted the glass of wine he’d poured for her with a nod of her head and smiled. “Oh, no doubt, but I am sure both Gilraen’s and Estel’s presence will soon make sense to them all. I wonder what they will think of me.”
“Well, we did claim each other as distant kin, cousins, if I remember correctly.”
Ára laughed, ate a bit of fruit, and took a sip of wine. “I had wondered whether you meant that in jest or not, but I found today something which made me believe you were being every bit as serious as you were humorous.”
Elrond nodded as he ate a bit of his own food. “I was. It is an elegant solution, and has the benefit of being somewhat true. No one should inquire as to how we are related, and I doubt any would think you belong to the race of Men, fair as you appear.”
Ára shrugged. “I suppose it is a good thing I have learned how to change small things on my Hröa. It make take some time to get used to the pointed ears, however.” As she said this, Ára pushed back her hair on one side to show a rounded ear, and in the blink of an eye it became pointed quite like his own.
Elrond nearly sputtered his wine, and instead swallowed it quickly. “I had no idea you retained the ability to shape your Hröa. The Istari have not, bound as much of their power is.”
“Yes, well, I was not so bound. My Lord did not put such constraints on me, though I cannot simply separate myself, Fëa from Hröa, at least not here.”
Truly, Elrond was learning much, and he hadn’t even thought to have this type of discussion with her so soon. But now, he was deeply curious. What was the extent of her abilities?
Both shared a comfortable silence while they ate and drank their wine, silently acknowledging that more conversation could occur when each was finished. Elrond, for his part, was thinking of what to ask her, and how much. He wondered what she would do while living in his home, and he hoped she would take on a similar role as his other councilors, for he would not pass up the opportunity to have any of the Spirits as an advisor. It was obvious she would retain her closeness with Gilraen, and become someone important in Estel’s life, if that had been her role with the Dúnedain for so long. Beyond that, he wondered what she would want to do.
Several Ranger Chieftains had mentioned her battle prowess, some even calling her ruthless. Elrond wondered about that, wondered what could cause such. He’d seen it some in Eönwë during the War of Wrath. The Herald of Manwë had been merciless and efficient in battle during that war. He wondered how close this Ára’s relationship was with Manwë’s Herald. Both were fair of hair, though hers seemed much more akin to a mortal’s coloring than her kinsman’s had. Eönwë’s eyes had been a bright, striking blue, however, where hers were jewels of green.
Did all of the Spirits who were not clad in old men’s bodies look so terribly bright? Even Mithrandír, clad as he was, had grey, near silver eyes, which were brighter than any mortals, though not as bright as one of the Eldar. Elrond suspected that was due to his mortal seeming body, though Elrond had long found that Mithrandír could forgo sleep, much like Elves, and he was far more nimble and had strength of stamina that a man of his seeming age would not have.
He wondered if the one before him had the senses of a mortal or an immortal. He rather suspected the latter.
Ára was quite content to eat in silence once they moved past the beginnings of conversation. She appreciated Elrond’s ability, understood he brought up the majority of what they would speak on after the meal beforehand, giving her time to order her thoughts. She had several things on her mind, especially after her interaction with Erestor earlier in the family’s private garden. She also wondered just how far Elrond would question her abilities, if he did so more than he already had.
Perhaps she should not have used what she thought of as her metamorphmagus, and apparently was a staple Maia, ability. Ah, it was better to get that out of the way now, and he had reminded her that she should probably appear more like the Elves, especially as it would be quite obvious she would not age. It was not as noticeable in a land of Men, as the ones who did not know of her nature rarely paid attention to her, and that was intentional on her part. If they did, well, they did not ask, and most merely thought her to be the daughter of the woman they had known before. Traveling and wandering as much as she did had seemed to help that idea along.
Finally, after both were done eating and merely sipping on their wine, Elrond spoke again.
“I would like to repeat to you now, in private, that as I have claimed you as kin, and plan to do so publically as well, that you will always have a home here. Alas, I cannot say how much longer I will remain on these shores, but I know my sons will uphold that promise, if I do indeed leave before yourself. Do you know when you will be called Home?”
Ára thought about his question. She didn’t consider Aman to be home, though she had understood what he meant. She was touched by his easy offer of a home. Even though she’d felt accepted by the Chieftains of the Dúnedain, and their Seats had been as much of a home as she’d had in centuries, and she’d crafted a small house of her own soon after her arrival in Middle-Earth—one she visited rarely more and more lately— she had never felt as if she had the right to call any one place a true home. Here, in Imladris, as she’d told Erestor earlier, was the first time in a long time she felt she might call someplace home in truth.
“I will not leave for Valinor until Sauron is vanquished once and for all, of that much I am sure.” Ára paused, her gaze turning distant and unfocused, away from Elrond. “Whether that takes a decade, a century, or more, I know not, though I have the feeling it will be decades, and not centuries.” She shrugged. “Perhaps closer to a century than not, I think.”
When Ára returned to look back at Elrond and not the wall behind him, his grey-silver eyes were piercing. What he’d heard in her words, she knew not, as she’d only spoken that which her intuition told her. But he seemed to find what he was looking for, whatever it was, for he sagged in his chair.
“I have the same feeling as well, though I have yet to tell anyone besides the Lady Galadriel of this. She feels the growing shadow and urgency of this too, it is part of the reason I have not had my daughter here recently. She just left a few years back to stay with her grandmother for a number of years again.”
Ára unpacked that statement as well as she could. Was Lóthlorien truly any safer than Imladris? It was certainly closer to Dol Goldur, a dark fortress near what was once called Greenwood the Great, and had come to be known as Mirkwood. The realm of the only Elf who still called himself King in this Age, and not simply Lord.
“I have felt the shadow growing, and feel it will only grow stronger in the years to come, before it becomes inevitable to call for war.”
Elrond nodded, his bright eyes dimming slightly, and sighed in resignation before he straightened and very obviously changed the subject.
“There will be enough time for talk as dark as this, I fear. For now, I would like to ask you of your abilities, beyond that which you have shown.”
It was a statement as much as it was a question. How much did Ára tell him? Certainly not the full extent of her magic. This was a time she wished she’d met the Lady Galadriel or spent time with at least one of the Istari. Either would be a good sounding board to judge her own capabilities against, or at least the amount of Power she would feel from either. Having only been in the vicinity of Mithrandír for a short time before leaving, Ára truly had nothing to judge herself against.
“To be truthful, I am unsure of the extent of my Power here,” and that was true enough. She hadn’t had to go all out in battle, not even when she had been in the wilds alone and come upon orcs. She had yet to feel depleted in any case, which she had always been able to feel back in her previous world. “I can hear the Song, of course, and spend much time meditating for just that purpose. I do not have Foresight, as such, but I do have a very strong intuition, and it was that which led me to the Dúnedain when they began to be a wandering people.”
Elrond appeared to be fascinated. “Do you have abilities like the other Istari?”
Ára shrugged. “Truthfully, I would not know. I have yet to interact with any of them. I know they are called wizards by Men, and seem to have some form of magic. Whether that is true, or it is simply how those of Men view their innate abilities, I cannot say. Can I light a fire without flint? Yes. But I cannot change the weather, nor can I influence nature beyond what is natural. I can set protections not unlike you have done around Imladris, that much I know, for I have done so many times when making camp while traveling, and have set a more permanent warding around the village in which majority of the Dúnedain reside. But I have come close to Isengard, and have felt the wards set there, and they are both alike and different than what I do. Mostly, I use mine as a warning system, for it is much less draining, and more temporary than others I might do.”
Elrond seemed to take her information at face value, but there was a gleam in his eyes, as if he knew something more. “I have heard stories, rare ones, about your prowess in battle.”
Ára very much wanted to roll her eyes. Of course she was strong in battle. She had strength and stamina greater than mortal men, and heightened senses too. That had been strange to get used to when she’d first been dumped in Middle-Earth. She’d also had thousands of years to hone her abilities in battle, and had done so with relish after her first few encounters with orcs. Alone, she’d obliterate them with magic, but found soon enough that she would need to be competent with normal weapons. She still sometimes obliterated whole companies worth of orcs with magic if she was on her own, as it was always good to keep those skills sharp. She hadn’t exactly been lying when she’d told Erestor, Glorfindel, and Elrond that if she had battled Sauron at the end of the Second Age, she might have done more damage than it was worth, but she was still very unsure if she could stand against that fallen Maia. He was said to be the most powerful of the Maiar, except perhaps Eönwë, and Ára did not know if her magic could withstand whatever Power he possessed. She gathered that her lack of knowledge on this subject had been deliberate, as she didn’t think Námo had wanted her to chase the Dark Lord down and fight him, at least not when he’d shipped her off to Middle-Earth.
Still, she selfishly hoped she wouldn’t have to fight Sauron herself. Perhaps she should go exploring other dark places in Middle-Earth to see what she could find to pit herself against before it came to that, if it would.
“I am competent with my weapons, Elrond. I have had to be. I would not be much of a Guardian if I was not, would I?”
He nodded, though looked slightly disappointed. Ára wondered who she had used battle magic in front of, for she couldn’t recall doing so anytime in recent years. Perhaps one of the earlier Chieftains, she might have used a few fire spells, or banishing spells, but she didn’t think she had used much magic in front of and Men, at least not those who were not of the Chieftains’’ immediate household, and even then…well it was good she spent time on her own, if for no other reason than an excuse to continue using her magic and keeping it trained.
She did use subtle magic quite often however. Cleaning and freshening charms were wonders when traveling, or cleaning up messed in houses and inns, as long as no one was around to notice during those few minutes.
Perhaps someone had told stories of how fresh she nearly always appeared while traveling, even without baths? She didn’t think so, however, because that was certainly not battle magic.
“As I said before, I would not use Power in battle, not if I could help it. It would not be very…clean if I did so. I would be at risk of damaging allies just as much as enemies.”
“I remember the War of Wrath, when the Spirits and eventual the Powers came to battle. It was…well it was very frightening. I myself have some Power, as you have no doubt sensed, and used it quite often during that long war.”
Ára snorted then nodded. “An entire continent was crumbled and sank due to the Power used to battle during that war. I would be very careful of using such abilities in this Age.”
Both fell silent for a time after that, sipping on wine and lost in memories. Ára remembered battles against other magic users, the terrible consequences of those battles, and tried to imagine what it would have been like if she and the others had been empowered as she was now. She shuddered. No, she was very grateful she hadn’t had access then to the amount of Power and other abilities she did now. Though she did wonder about Elrond’s own abilities and Power, it would be interesting to see in an academic sort of way.
“I have thought and wondered,” Elrond said, breaking their contemplative silence, “what you might wish to do while you reside here.”
Ára hummed and thought it over some more. She’d been thinking about the same thing these past few days. “I know I will continue to travel, as I am somewhat restless in nature, though perhaps not nearly so much as I have heard Mithrandír is. Perhaps I might join Lord Glorfindel on some patrols, and of course I shall help educate Estel. Is there anything you had in mind specifically?”
“I had thought to ask you to be another of my advisors, though if you wish to travel still, and to join patrols, I have no issue with that either.”
Ára tilted her head. She had been a councilor to the Dúnedain Chieftains, but she did not think it would be the same to be so to a much larger settlement, which had also stood for thousands of years, especially an Elven realm.
“I suppose I would not be adverse to sitting in on council meetings, or even having private audience with yourself and maybe Lord Glorfindel and Erestor. But I am not sure how much worth I will be as an advisor or councilor.”
Elrond smiled and his eyes twinkled. “I think you undersell yourself, cousin.”
Ára laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps not. But most of my recent advising has been in regards to security, truthfully. And you already have Lord Glorfindel for such things.”
Elrond grinned. “It seems you may be spending more time with him then, as he is both Captain of Imladris and one of my most trusted advisors. Erestor being the other. Both are great friends as well, though.”
“Yes, I had gathered that much already. There had been no one else at our first meeting.”
Elrond laughed. “I suppose such was obvious.”
Ára wondered as she looked at the near-empty bottle of wine on the table, if she would ever get to be drunk again. She hadn’t in centuries, and she wasn’t even feeling slightly warm from the amount of wine they had consumed so far. She sighed. She’d heard things about Dorwinion, though, and wondered if she could work up the courage to visit the Elvenking’s halls on a quest to finally become drunk for the first time in thousands of years.
“I am glad that we have had this time to speak, and I forsee many other such meetings between us. Perhaps the next time we dine privately I might invite Glorfindel and Erestor?”
Ára knew a dismissal when she heard one, kindly though it was stated. She stood, inclined her head, and replied. “Of course, I look forward to it.”
“I will let you know, perhaps in a few days, what your more official role might be while you reside here.”
“I thank you. Good night.”
Elrond nodded as well. “Good night.”
As Ára made her way to her own rooms, short though the walk was, she thought over her discussion with Elrond. She really did like him. He was amiable, kind, and quite funny too. He was also very serious when he needed to be. She felt they would become great friends, and somewhat regretted putting off meeting him for so very long. But she hadn’t been ready, and it hadn’t been necessary. Perhaps their growing friendship would continue when both finally sailed to Aman.
If she wasn’t required for other duties.
Elrond had called someone to clear the table and send for his closest friends and advisors shortly after Ára had left. He wondered, idly, what her true name was. It certainly couldn’t be Dawn, though she looked the part with her fair hair. Perhaps like the dawn over a spring-green field in bloom.
There was so much going on now. Imladris hardly changed, but with the acceptance of Gilraen, Estel, and especially Ára, he had the feeling that much would be different in the years to come, at least for his family.
He remembered the debriefing with his sons over the ambush that had killed Arathorn and then the traveling to see Gilraen, her son, and even Ára safely to Imladris. They had spoken of feeling some power she expended every night, one which made them feel secure, even if his sons and Ára had also taken to doing a watch rotation. One of his sons, he knew, had been awake even when Ára was, though they had not truly felt the need to do so. He wondered if he should tell them that she was not a mortal woman, though he figured they had guessed as much. He hadn’t yet, and they had yet to ask.
As had become routine the past four nights, Erestor and Glorfindel came into his rooms together, each carrying a bottle of wine. Elrond nearly snorted. The three of them had been indulging much more than normal, nearly enough to make him feel the warmth of alcohol course through his affected veins.
Strangely though, it was Erestor and not Glorfindel who finally broke the silence after they’d poured three glasses of wine.
“So, how did your private conversation with our new resident Maia go?”
Elrond did snort then. “Resident Maia?”
Erestor simply shrugged even as Glorfindel chuckled. “Well, it is true. She is to be a resident here, part of your own household, you said, and she is a Maia. We have all confirmed that.”
“I did not say so, not so bluntly,” Glorfindel remarked.
“It went well,” Elrond said after drinking some of his wine. “I learned much, and have even more questions. But I think those I do have will wait.”
“I find myself somewhat envious,” Glorfindel said with a practiced pout. “You have each spent time with her and I have not had the opportunity as of yet.”
Elrond smirked. “I think you shall have all the opportunity you want in the near future. I have asked her what she wished to do while in residence, and she mentioned a couple of things that would have her working closely with you, Glorfindel.”
Glorfindel grinned, eyes lighting in joy. “Truly? Well that shall be wonderful! I quite like her from what little interaction I have had with her.”
Erestor snorted. “You mean you like looking at her.” He turned to Elrond and asked, “What will you have her doing?”
“I asked her if she would mind being one of my advisors. She did hedge a bit, but ultimately acquiesced. She also stated she would like to continue traveling, as she is used to doing so, though perhaps not as much as she has in recent years, as she wishes to take part in Estel’s education.” Elrond looked to Glorfindel then. “She also said she would be happy to join a few patrols every once in a while, to keep her skills sharp I think, if for any reason at all.”
“Wonderful,” Glorfindel said and continued to drink from his glass.
Erestor chuckled lowly. “Admit, Glorfindel. You merely find her fair to look upon.”
Glorfindel widened his eyes comically and shook his head. It was very obviously overdone, but done in humor. “Of course she is fair to look upon. But there are many ellith here who are also fair of face. I simply find it refreshing that she is not shy in my presence as most others are.”
“Ah,” Erestor hummed in thoughtful humor. “The price of being a renowned hero.”
Elrond laughed. Truly, he loved his friends. Erestor’s wit and Glorfindel’s easy mirth was a boon to his soul. He knew he was lucky to have them, and felt blessed with their presence.
“Truly, I have the most wonderful friends,” Elrond said in good humor, and he knew both understood it was said with as much seriousness as it was in jest.
Yes, he was lucky, and he thought he had found another to add to his close circle of friends.
What did it say about him that he would end up with two of the Maiar as close friends? Mithrandír was the only one of the Istari he felt any closeness to, and they had shared many evenings like the one he was sharing now with Glorfindel and Erestor. Sometimes the four of them met on nights such as these. Perhaps that number would increase to five when Mithrandír came to visit next.