Chapter 7
Estel was already nearly ten years old and Ára had barely registered the time passing. It seemed Ára lived in cycles. When the Heirs of Isildur were very young, time passed more both quickly and slowly. Her days with each of them were glorious, but the years ran together for her nearly too quickly to count.
She shared this view with Elrond, Glorfindel, and to a lesser extent Erestor. All three elves had come to love Estel, even if Erestor had been complaining nearly non-stop over the impatience of youth since the young boy had begun his studies with him.
Elrond and Glorfindel had known for years now, most of her nature, though not quite all of it. After those days when she’d broken down and told them most of her story, they had both acted as true friends would, and spent time and effort building her back up again.
Gilraen had both laughed and cried with her over the course of it, such was the friend she was to Ára. But Gilraen had reminded her that only those Immortal Elves who knew her and her story would be capable of continuing the ultimate healing process. Gilraen had been correct, as she often was about such things. Really, the young woman—for she was still young in Ára’s mind—was much too wise for her age.
Sometimes, Ára resented the fate of Men. Well, the fate of some of Men.
Still, after she’d disclosed her history, Ára had not had to reveal quite everything. There was still the matter of her history in a different world, and though those years had been short, they had been formative. She often thought over the years that she well as may tell her last tale, but something always stopped her. How could she even describe it, how could she paint a proper picture of that world, how could they even hope to understand it? Even Glorfindel, the oldest elf in Imladris, who shared a singular experience with her, should not have knowledge of other worlds possibly existing parallel to Arda.
Glorfindel had become her best friend and staunchest ally even so. And if Ára had grown to love him as more than a friend over the years, well, he hadn’t indicated more than a close and abiding friendship, so she’d kept her heart to herself and enjoyed what she did have with him. It was enough, it would be enough.
She figured, that as a Maia, she was Doomed to love her best friend—Glorfindel—from the sidelines, and that she would have to accept her lot in Fate. It had taken an Age and more for her to finally find her heart. So in some ways, she was merely thankful she had finally found her one, even if every touch from him tingled.
Ára relished the closeness every time Glorfindel made bodily contact with her, his warmth was a splendid joy she could not help herself from appreciating. Bu Ára had taken to traveling in recent years, and her time to visit Lóthlorien, which she had put off successfully multiple times, was quickly approaching.
Perhaps Glorfindel’s cousin would have words of wisdom for Ára that she had yet to find in Imladris. And if she didn’t, well, Ára would be no worse off. She would only have had the chance to see another great Elven Realm.
Ára hadn’t left Imladris for more than a few weeks at a time since she’d arrived after the death of Gilraen’s husband, Arathorn. So she was itching for a chance to leave the valley for longer after a decade of what seemed to her of near stagnation.
Elrond had been companionable, and Ára had grown to truly count and love him as a kinsman over the past few years. She rather thought that Elrond had grown to love her as his cousin as well. All of Imladris saw her as his closest of kin on this side of the Sundering Seas, excepting his children and his Law-Mother Galadriel, even if they did not know the intricate details of the family tree which connected them.
How did one explain that the Maiar saw their order as a family? Who were the brothers, sisters, and cousins between them? It was simply easier to say kin and be done with it, even if in Ára’s case the majority of the people did not know she was a Maia.
Most of Imladris saw Ára as an Elf, one who had either seen the Light of the Two Trees, or was born of one or two parents who had, due to her eyes which shone with light, though it was the light of the Ainur and not the Two Trees. Few in Imladris knew the truth of Ára. Those who did were Gilraen, Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor, Elrond’s sons Elrohír and Elladan, and the smith Curudan. Estel would be told in a decade or two, and when and if either Arwen returned to Imladris or Ára met her in Lóthlorien, Arwen would be informed as well.
Her intuition told her that Estel, after he was informed of his birthright, might actually be the last to be let in on the Secret, little though he would like it.
It was a given, since Ára was quite resolved to visit Lóthlorien sooner rather than later, that the Lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn would quickly learn of Ára’s nature. Ára knew Elrond had sent a letter to them about her, but simply stated he had found a lost cousin, and nothing about her nature. It was a running joke between those in the know that the Lady of Light was kept in the dark.
But for now, only two in Middle-Earth knew nearly the full truth. Only Elrond and Glorfindel knew that Ára was the Doomsman’s Herald, only they knew that she had died once before and been re-embodied.
The three of them had had a short conversation after the revelation of her being claimed by the Judge of the Dead wherein Ára had revealed to them the unique ability that came with the office of being the Doomsman’s Herald. Ára could quite literally separate Fëa from Hröa of the living. Sadly, this meant she could not use that ability to banish the bound spirits of the Nazgûl, as they were neither living nor dead.
After Glorfindel had learned that someone else in Middle-Earth shared his experience of rebirth, it had brought him and Ára even closer together in friendship. They had spoken several times about their time in the Halls of Mandos, sharing their personal views of that place. It wasn’t that Glorfindel was happy she had known death of herself as he had too, but he had never known anyone in Middle-Earth who had a similar experience, and shared experiences often brought people together where nothing else might.
Ára appreciated his friendship, though it was taking her time to grow comfortable with the truth of her heart for him.
It was another reason why Ára had been thinking more and more frequently of making the journey to Lóthlorien. Was the realm of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn the place to go when one needed to escape Imladris or find room to breathe and grow? Ára was beginning to think that was the true peace Lóthlorien offered, though she wondered what Lady Galadriel would think of that growing belief.
As Ára walked from the dining hall after the conclusion of the morning meal, she pondered over how to ask Elrond about taking leave of Imladris. Perhaps she could journey to other places besides Lóthlorien. Ára hadn’t been to visit with Iarwain-Ben-Adar and Goldberry in quite some time, for when she did, she always seemed to spend years with them. Nor had she yet chanced a visit to the Grey Havens—though she rather suspected she wouldn’t until she sailed to Aman years from now.
Ára hadn’t traveled to Gondor or Rohan since coming to Imladris either, even though while Estel was comfortably safe and growing in Imladris, Ára did have the freedom to leave without worrying for him for a bit longer.
Truly, she was beginning to feel her restlessness come back in force now that she thought on traveling out longer distances. Though, she supposed, she had been thinking of doing so with increasing frequency, and perhaps it had gradually been building until it grew into the slight agitation she’d been feeling.
Or maybe it was her intuition prompting her again? Sometimes it was difficult to tell; the promptings of the Song could be as subtle as a gentle breeze, or blatant as a gale-force wind.
So, with that thought, Ára made her way to Elrond’s garden to meditate, instead of going to the library as she usually still did in the mornings.
After about three hours, Ára had just come to the conclusion that yes, for whatever reason—and no, her intuition was not quite loud enough to supply her one—she needed to go traveling. She wasn’t quite sure where, or what she was supposed to do, but she knew she would be going soon. Very soon. Perhaps that was why her restlessness had increased to such a burning level as of late. She had the strangest feeling, however, that unlike usual, she wouldn’t be going alone. But her meditation on the Song had not supplied her with any hints as to who she would be journeying with, only that she would be doing so very, very soon.
It was just as she’d come out of her reflection that she sensed two bright auras stepping into the garden, and one was blazing brighter than the other which she was well accustomed to.
Glorfindel was smiling at her when she opened her eyes, and with him was a tall man with a long greying beard who was dressed in long, grey robes, and studying her with bright, piercing grey-blue eyes.
Mithrandír, Ára immediately thought. For only he could both have a presence which boasted Power, bound as Ára could sense it was, and also have Glorfindel smiling.
“Good afternoon, Ára,” Glorfindel said, smile still wide and eyes twinkling in delightful amusement. For amused Ára was sure he was, as he knew well the pains Ára had taken to avoid the Istari since her arrival in Middle-Earth centuries upon centuries ago. “I have someone who would very much like to meet you.”
Ára snorted, rose from her seat on the bench she’d occupied, and ignored the elf as she turned her attention to the Grey-Wizard.
“It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance, Mithrandír,” she declared with as much grace as she could, walking towards them. “Though from the all the stories I have heard about you, I must wonder what adventure has brought you to Imladris at this time.”
The bound Maia raised a brow and his lips curled into a small, amused smile as Glorfindel laughed heartily, though his eyes were still sharp and assessing.
“If the tales you have been told came from either Glorfindel or Elrond, I suppose your question makes sense,” he intoned. “But forgive me, for I have heard no tales at all of you, my Lady.”
Ára smirked as she finally stopped a few steps in front of the pair. She inclined her head for in greeting quickly, but did not bow. “I am glad to hear that, truthfully. It means I have been successful in keeping my presence in Middle-Earth as secret as possible. Which I do hope you shall continue to uphold in trust, as there are still very few people this side of the sea who are aware of me.”
The raised brow was joined by the other, but the Istar was still eyeing her sharply and Ára nearly sighed. Honestly, if both Elrond and Glorfindel trusted her, what reason had he to be so mistrustful?
She turned to Glorfindel finally and asked, a single brow raise, “Have you come to fetch me for lunch? Or were you simply giddy that you would finally be able to reveal me to your friend?”
The elf had the audacity to wink, and deep within herself Ára felt a small flutter which only continued when Glorfindel boldly stepped forward and took her arm into his. “Yes to both, actually. Elrond has lunch set up for us since Mithrandír has finally seen fit to visit once more, and he’s invited you to join as well.” He turned them around, snatching the wizard’s arm in the process. “Come, come, both of you, Elrond awaits us in his study.”
Ára turned her head to the other Maia, half-amused, half-irritated at her favorite elf’s antics. “Has Glorfindel always been this way, do you know? Or is it simply how he reacts to the presence of our kind?”
This, finally brought a sharp, deep laugh from him and he responded, “I have always found Glorfindel to be a singularly cheerful elf. It seems, unlike others, he never truly grew out of his childhood, and he has had much more time to do so!”
“I cannot even give my normal response to such teasing,” Glorfindel nearly pouted as they walked. “You are both older than I am!”
Mithrandír grinned at him and Ára thought the smile took years from his Hröa’s face. “Well, Glorfindel, you only have yourself to blame if you insist on the antics of an elfling.”
Ára laughed merrily. Perhaps she could come to like this Istar. She could nearly See his brightness of spirit, and he fairly shone in her mind’s eye.
Elrond was seated at a small, round table in the corner of his study, food and wine laid out like a feast, and Ára had to wonder if he believed Mithrandír never ate enough unless he was in Imladris.
Glorfindel pulled out a chair, one across from Elrond, and Ára sat down, shooting a chastising look at Elrond—which he merely smiled at—for springing this on her. Really, she should have been able to sense Mithrandír’s presence in Imladris, but Elrond must have tweaked his wards just to defy her ability and spring this meeting on her.
As the Istar took his seat between Elrond and Glorfindel, who had just dropped down next to Ára, he scolded the dark-haired ellon. “You have been keeping secrets, my friend.”
Elrond merely smirked, and Ára had spent enough time with both his sons to recognize that Elrond’s current visage had been inherited. He was one half of the first set of twins with a mischievous nature—not that anyone except those closest to him would ever believe the wise Lord of Imladris had still retained some of that mischief from his once impish youth.
“You keep enough of your own, Mithrandír,” Elrond replied, voice laced with such smugness Ára couldn’t help but laugh. “I figured I was due one of my own.”
Glorfindel joined in the merriment of the moment, for he too had complained often enough when speaking of the wizard about how he guarded his secrets like a dragon guarded treasure. “He has you there, Mithrandír, and you only have yourself to blame. Hold your wrath though, my friend, Ára has been the best kept secret of the Age, and we have only uncovered her a less than a decade ago.”
Said wizard huffed and reached for a glass of wine. “I would have liked to know that another of my kin had come to these shores! And had been so fortunate not to be housed in such a frail, old body as well.”
Both elves snorted. “Frail! Lie not,” Elrond remarked as he filled his plate. “You can be as silent as any elf, and walk as far as any ranger! You have been doing so as you roam all over Middle-Earth for centuries. But please, let us eat before we end up ignoring such a feast.”
Glorfindel shook his head but said nothing as he too took food from the trays and placed them on his plate, and so Ára followed his example, even if she wasn’t terribly hungry anymore. Something about the contrived situation—and it was most definitely contrived, damn Elrond’s ability to stopper her senses—set her teeth on edge.
She glared at Elrond once more before she huffed and then began to eat in sullen silence. She was not pouting, not at all. She did not care for having her senses messed with. It was most unnatural. She’d spent centuries with the skill, and now it was as much a part of her as any limb could be. To have said metaphorical limb cut off, however temporarily, was terrifying. She had not known it was possible. The only thing saving Elrond from her retribution was that she suspected he had confounded the other Maia’s senses as well.
Still, she had not been expecting to meet the wizard today, not yet. She hoped she could convince him to keep her presence in Middle-Earth a secret, and since it appeared he kept many, she hoped he wouldn’t mind.
If necessary, she would go as far as to demand an oath that he not speak of her to anyone who did not already know about her, and know of her nature as well. That way, even if someone knew of her but not her status as a Maia, he would be unable to divulge her nature.
After they’d all finished eating, the wizard pulled a pipe from his robes and filled it with tobacco leaf, lighting the end with muttered word, and leaned back in his chair. The wrinkled nose and scrunched up expression on Elrond’s face, coupled with him dramatically rolling eyes told Ára that as much as he disliked the habit, he would not be stopping the Istar from smoking.
Glorfindel’s resigned sigh spoke much the same.
Ára simply raised a brow and smirked as a wicked idea occurred to her. Perhaps she could give some payback to Elrond after all. “Do you have an extra pipe, Mithrandír? If you wouldn’t mind sharing your leaf, that is?”
She nearly heard the crack as both Elrond and Glorfindel snapped their heads in her direction. She ignored Elrond’s scandalized look, and Glorfindel’s comically shocked face as her new favorite Maia—though that wasn’t such a coveted place, as he was the only one she knew as of yet—fished through his robes and pulled out a smaller, plainer wooden pipe.
His eyes were twinkling when he leaned over the table to hand her both it and the tin full of smoking leaf. Ára took both with such grace she could have been a queen receiving a royal gift at court.
“I thank you,” she intoned with a bow of her head, playing up the part.
He laughed, the sound a deep rumble, and leaned back in his chair once more. “Nay, my Lady, it is I who should thank you. For once, I shall not be the only one in all of Imladris to indulge.”
“I dearly wish you would not,” Elrond sighed as he cast his eyes upward. “But as I know I cannot stop you, Mithrandír, I shall simply have to deal with it and make sure I remember to change my robes before going anywhere in public.”
“You could try it yourself, my friend. It is quite the relaxing pastime.”
“No thank you,” Elrond said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust once more before turning his attention to Ára as she filled the pipe and lit it with a small movement of her finger—the action catching the attention of the wizard, whose sharp eyes appeared to miss nothing. “Must you, Ára? It is a deplorable habit, and I shall not thank you if you develop a similar fondness for it as out dear Istar.”
Ára dearly wanted to say a phrase she’d unlearned from her old world: payback’s a bitch, but refrained. It would be quite crass, and really wouldn’t translate from her native tongue to Sindarin well at all. So instead she smirked around the pipe, inhaled, and then blew the resulting smoke straight at the lord. “You dared obstruct my senses,” she said flatly, raising a brow. “This seems to be as suitable repayment for such as I can offer.”
Elrond sighed, but did not reply to her. Instead, he turned to the wizard and asked, “So, why have you come this time, Mithrandír? What news do you bring, or are you here to learn something before setting off on another adventure?”
Mithrandír blew out smoke from his rounded lips, and it took the shape of a large key, oddly enough. “Can I not simply have wished to visit an old friend?”
Elrond merely raised a brow while Glorfindel snorted and pointed finger towards the grey-clad figure. “You never stop by for a purely social visit, Mithrandír. Your old friend simply knows you too well.”
The wizard did shift in his seat at that, and Ára wondered at how doing such did not cause him to fall over, as precariously as he was leaning back in the chair, two of its legs off the floor entire.
“Yes, well,” he began, and even Ára, who had never met the Maia clad in such an old looking body, could sense his desire to evade the truth of his purpose. “I am merely passing through as I head to the Shire, and I desired to sleep in a comfortable bed for a day or two before continuing on.”
Elrond, however easy it was to tell that the wizard did not wish to speak plainly, did not allow the evasion so easily. “And what business do you have in the Shire this time, Mithrandír? Even I have heard tales of the trouble you have made there in the past, what with setting wanderlust into the hearts of innocent hobbits, causing them to do such strange things as going to see the ocean.” The delivery was dry, but the spark of humor glinting in Elrond’s eyes wasn’t easy to miss. Ára could tell he enjoyed having something to tease the old Maia with.
Mithrandír snorted and rolled his eyes as he let out another puff of smoke even while Glorfindel snickered. This was obviously a running joke, and Ára felt herself easily fall into the relaxing mood.
After a moment, however, the wizard said, “Perhaps I simply wanted to come find out why I had been having the niggling thought that you finally had a secret to uncover, and so needed an excuse to pass through, hmm?” Eyes rolled all around, because each knew that could be the furthest thing from the truth. “Though now that I have uncovered her, I am sad I can only spare a two days before heading off again for I find myself deeply curious.”
Ára sighed resignedly and set the borrowed pipe onto the table. “I suppose since you have so graciously shared your pastime with me, I can at least offer you a trade with information.” She looked to Elrond, noting the unspoken question in his eyes before turning to Glorfindel who looked far too pleased with the situation before she returned her attention to the wizard. “I am the Herald of the Doomsman of the Valar.”
That information seemed to shock the Istar, for his bushy, grey eyebrows climbed up to his hairline and the chair he’d been leaning on came back into its natural position as he leaned forward, pipe nearly falling out of his slack-jawed mouth before he caught it absentmindedly.
He said nothing for a moment, and both Elrond and Glorfindel seemed to be shaking in silent laughter.
“Now that, I was not expecting to hear,” Mithrandír said after a moment before he brought his pipe back to his mouth. “For what purpose did the Lord of Mandos send you here?”
Ára scowled instinctively but quickly smoothed her face into a neutral expression. “Until recently, I have been guarding the line of the kings of Gondor and Arnor. As the last Heir of Isildur is a boy and currently resides in Imladris with his mother, the only other mortal who is aware of my true nature, I have taken residence here as well.”
“The people of Imladris know Ára as my distant cousin, Mithrandír,” Elrond interjected, a hint of steel coating the tone of his voice. “And that is what everyone shall continue to believe. Even the head of your order.”
If he’d thought the tone would bother the wizard though, Elrond would have been disappointed, for the immortal man barked out a rumble of laughter at the pronouncement. “Distant cousin indeed, oh child of Melian! Shall I be the next you claim as kin, Descendant of Lúthien?”
“Am I to be forever doomed to be known for my ancestors?” Elrond complained as cast his gaze aloft. “I am called Eärendilion after my sire, and Half-Elven, which honestly is just not all that accurate. I am not half an elf, nor do I only have the blood of two kindred, but three!”
Glorfindel chortled with mirth, his eyes shining. “Shall we introduce you instead as Elrond the Mostly Elven, Some-What Man and Little Maia?”
Ára joined the joke, “I can even give you the precise fractions, if you wish...cousin.” Ára winked. She did enjoy teasing the publically unflappable lord.
“I know them well enough myself, thank you very much,” Elrond grumbled.
Ára spent the day after Mithrandír’s arrival quietly cursing the Spirits and Powers as she rushed to prepare for a journey. Her preparation was made a bit easier, she found, as she had subconsciously been doing little things for the past week to make packing a simpler matter—which she’d only now realized as she made her way to the kitchens to have the staff set aside some lembas for her as well the wizard. She’d cleaned and oiled all her weapons, the very same ones Glorfindel had taken her to get commissioned shortly after she’d arrived to Imladris years back. She’d set aside a few changes of clothing—no dresses—that she did not use when sparring with Glorfindel that were spun from muted colors, she’d only have to bundle them up to better fit in her traveling pack, which was on the chest at the end of her bed.
Truthfully, she had little to do, but she was using the excuse to avoid the wizard for the day, grateful that Elrond and Glorfindel were too happy with seeing him to think to come find her just yet. She’d soon be spending a bit of time alone with him as they made their way to the Shire—damn her intuition—and she was trying to figure out why what she sensed from him was familiar. He shouldn’t feel familiar to her, she knew that. The puzzle was maddening.
And she didn’t have time to meditate properly over the issue either, as the wizard was going to be leaving the next morning, and she still had things to do. If they were taking mounts, which Ára dearly hoped they were, then perhaps she’d be able to doze off slightly in reverie whilst riding—between her grace and the steadiness of elven-trained horses, that was always easy to do.
She shook her head as she entered the storeroom for the kitchens, and found an ellith she knew well wrapping a loaf of lembas in a large leaf she assumed were provisions for the very Istar she was thinking about. Her back was turned to her as she stood in front of a small, stone countertop.
“Good day, Oroneth, are you preparing that for Mithrandír’s departure tomorrow?”
The elleth jumped at her voice, and turned around, clutching the small, half-wrapped package to her chest. “I have no idea how you always manage to sneak up on me in here! But you are as bad as Lord Glorfindel, my Lady.”
Ára wanted to sigh, but she’d long given up on the maid dropping any titles. It could be worse, she knew, if the poor dear ever found out she was a Maia and not simply and elf related, however distantly, to the Lord of Imladris.
“It is a talent,” Ára agreed with a nod of her head. “Can I trouble you to prepare some lembas for me as well, as it seems I shall be traveling with Mithrandír when he leaves for the Shire in the morning?”
“Of course, my Lady,” she agreed, though her brows were furrowed in confusion. Oroneth didn’t ask the question of why Ára would be leaving as well, though she could tell the elleth wanted to know.
“Thank you, Oroneth. Now I need to go find my water skin, I cannot seem to recall where I put it when I returned.”
“Oh! I think it is still in here, with the others. I will make sure to fill it and give you what you need before the morning, my Lady, you do not have to worry.”
“My thanks again,” Ára said with another nod of her head and turned around to leave. “Oh, and Oroneth,”she called back turning her head over her shoulder as she stopped in the doorway, “please include some dried fruit in both mine and Mithrandír’s provisions, if you could?”
“Yes, my Lady. Good day.”
Ára continued one, shaking her head. Now she had to go find Erestor and inform him she was going to be dumping her paperwork on him for an indeterminate amount of time. He was not going to be happy. Eventually, Ára had taken over Arwen’s position as the Lady of Imladris in her absence, though she still went on short patrols, if very rarely. Between Estel, Gilraen, and Ára’s duties, it was no wonder she hadn’t left for more than a few weeks at a time yet. She’d always come back to piles of work to sort out, because Erestor could be vindictive when he wanted to.
He’d been quite pleased when Ára had taken on the duties which belonged to the lady of the house, and he never let her forget his displeasure when he had to resume them for any amount of time. Though, he’d stopped being quite so blunt about his reprisals one day when Ára had had enough and transfigured him into a cat for a few hours.
Until that day, no one had known she could do such things. It wasn’t very practical after all, but she still remembered what she’d learned so very long ago in a different world.
The spotlessness of the rooms in her apartment continued to baffle the ellith who were supposed to clean them to this day. In fact, her rooms only gathered dust when she left Imladris at all. It was quite comical, because really, with a few waves of her hand a couple flicks of her wrist, everything was always in order. The only thing she didn’t do for herself or by magic was wash her clothing and bedding. That would be too difficult to explain away, and so she let the maids do their job for those chores.
It was still strange to have someone else essentially picking up after her when for so long she’d had to do all those chores on her own due to her time with the rangers.
Later that night, after the evening meal and a near argument with both Elrond and Glorfindel about her abruptly planned departure with Mithrandír the next morning—they’d both finally said she would be the one to tell him, and Ára planned to…when they were leaving— Ára hid herself away in a rarely used spot up the hill from the main house.
She was sitting on a bench next to a pond which had been formed one of the many waterfalls in Imladris, though this one was quite small, the water trickling through a small opening in the rocks behind a copse of trees which surrounded the pond. Ára had found the little hidden area while exploring the valley a few years back, and when she wanted to use her magic in small, frivolous ways, she often came here to pull water into the air and shape it. Right now the drops of water hanging in the air above the pond were shaped into butterflies which flitted about in a circle illuminated by a soft blue witch-light gently bobbing in the middle.
Ára sensed him before she heard his quiet footsteps as he made his way through the trees surrounding the little glade. She could have dispelled her magic, but strangely, she didn’t want to hide it from the only other person she knew who might be able to do similar things.
“Tell me, Olórin,” Ára began as he quietly sat next to her and pulled out his pipe, “why does your presence feel so familiar to my senses when we have only met the day before?” Ára made a small gesture with two fingers, and the butterflies changed to sparrows mid-flight.
He blew out a small ring of smoke. “I wished to ask you the same question, though I was told you were busy today. Though I have to ask how you know that name if by your question I can assume your memories are bound as much as mine were.”
“Glorfindel is a font of knowledge.” Ára flicked a finger and the witch-light changed from blue to lavender. She rather liked that color, it paired well with both her hair and eyes.
“Doubtlessly.” He puffed out smoke once more and admitted, “He was quite disheartened to learn I had scant memory of our friendship in Aman, though we became friends again quite quickly.”
Ára sighed, turned her wrist a quarter, and the sparrows became hummingbirds. “Sometimes, I question the purpose of having memories bound. I spent most of this Age never truly questioning my memories until I came to Imladris. I have been quite unhappy with my Lord Vala for unexpected frustration since. It has made my meditation an uneasy process, since I can tell now there is much that is shrouded from me within my own mind, and I hardly understand it at all. I remember no one from Aman except for him. It is maddening.”
The wizard let out a long-suffering sigh that caused a great billow of smoke to waft over the pond and Ára’s water-birds. “I remember more than you, it seems, though not by much. I know my task, and my place within our order, to which you do not seem to have been made to belong, yet your power is evident. We were told our memory would be veiled, so as not to incite a longing for home similar to the sea-longing the elves come to feel.”
Ára huffed and flicked her wrist, dispelling the drops of water to fall back into the small pool of water below. “I suppose that does make a kind of sense, but I wish I had been informed, or if I was that I could remember being informed. Your answer, however, does not dispel the reason for my frustration these past years, however, but I thank you all the same.”
They both sat quietly for some time, Ára cycling her light through various colors and her companion blowing out shapes in the smoke he puffed out. Ára was considering whether or not to tell him what she had not even told Glorfindel and Elrond when he spoke again.
“I was told by the one who restocked my provisions that you informed her you were to accompany me when I leave tomorrow.”
Ára laughed lightly before she said, “I do not know whether to thank Oroneth or scold her for ruining my surprise. I was going to tell you in the morning. The idea to go with you came to me while we ate lunch yesterday with Elrond and Glorfindel. It was so sudden and so urgent I hardly slept at all last night. I hope you do not mind.”
The shape in the smoke he blew out was once again that large key from the day before and he said, “No, not at all, company while traveling is a welcome thing as I hardly have it. Though I am unsure how well you will be accepted by those I go to meet.”
Ára tilted her head in confusion. Hobbits were a wary people, but they were hardly unwelcoming of elves. “Can you tell me now? I shall not inform Elrond if you are concerned about that, nor anyone else.”
The shape in the smoke morphed until it looked like a single mountain, sending shivers down Ára’s spine for some reason. “Oh, Elrond knows I am going to call on a Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. I knew him as a small lad, but he is not who I am concerned with not accepting you. In fact, he would most likely be delighted, as you currently look like an elf.” He inhaled deeply before he continued saying. “No, it is the small company of dwarves who worry me.”
Ára closed her fist and then stretched her thumb and forefinger apart, causing the witch-light to grow a bit brighter before it changed to a soft blue color again. “That should not be a problem,” she said, using that same hand to push her hair behind her ear, her now rounded ear. “I will simply wear my hair back so they can see rounded ears instead of pointed ones.”
He turned to her sharply, observed her now rounded ear, and barked out a short laugh. “You seem full of surprises, my Lady. No staff, but obvious magic. And now you show you still retain your ability to change your form. How curious.”
Ára flicked her wrist and extinguished the witch-light, leaving them only the light of the stars and moon. “Well, it has gotten quite late,” she said as she rose from the bench. “Shall we now retire to rest for our journey?”
He stood as well, offering her his arm. “Certainly, my dear. Now, have you ever been to the Shire?”
As they began to leave the glade Ára replied, “Once, long ago, after my first visit with Iarwain-Ben-Adar and Goldberry. Do you know them?”