𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐟

𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

When you received word that your father, the King's advisor of your small region of the Dunedain lands, needed to speak to you hours before the sun had crested the horizon, you knew it was important.

"My lady Y/N, you must hurry," your handmaiden, Laenwyn, urged, handing you a pre-selected dress you frowned at suspiciously.

It was far more regal than anything you would normally wear, preferring to keep instead to movable outfits of skin-clinging leather pants and loose tunics that could be worn as dresses if it was really demanded. Whilst you couldn't argue against the beauty of the crimson dress, with its gossamer-fabric sleeves, the combination of the long skirt and stiff material made it most impractical. This probably meant some kind of important duty or a gathering with important members.

Still grumbling tiredly under your breath, you changed from your simple night slip into the formfitting gown, letting Laenwyn do your hair into a half-up style with a series of intricate braids weaving into one another like a headband of h/c hair. The rest of your hair fell gracefully down your back (though you knew after only a few minutes in the windswept hills of the Dunedain lands it would not look so graceful).

"Hurry!" Laenwyn said again, pushing you from your large chambers and out into the hall, where you stumbled slightly on the worn stones, before righting yourself and striding towards where you knew your father would be - the Throne Room. He was constantly by the king's side, who grew old and frail, attempting to assist him in any possible way, which King Derngrim desperately needed.

Laenwyn at your side, you rushed into the Throne Room, pulling back sharply as you took in who and what was there.

King Derngrim sat, as always, on his large wooden throne, his wrinkled fingers clutching at the armrests. Your father, Lord Balmere, stood at his side, arms behind his back and his stance straight and proud. However, in the centre of the room, a familiar man stood holding two tall horses - one brown (his) and one a dappled grey (yours).

"King Derngrim," you curtsied. "Father. And ..."

"Hello, my Lady Y/N," Aragorn, son of Arathorn, grinned.

"Aragorn!" You were about to throw yourself at your best friend, but withheld yourself in the presence of the King. "Uh, I mean, Lord Aragorn, I am relieved to see you returned to us safe."

You performed another low curtsy. You raised your head and saw Aragorn subtly roll his eyes at the formality, flashing you a quick wink that made you stifle a smirk.

"Y/N, daughter, thank you for coming at such an early hour," your father said. "We have received a summons from Rivendell."

"Rivendell?" you asked in awe.

Many said your people, the Dunedain, had long lives, but Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, was going on 6,000 years old. You had always wanted to see the beautiful land where Aragorn had grown up, and meet the elves, who allowed their women to be fierce warriors, as few were allowed to be in other lands (excluding yours, where almost all the people learned to fight by the age of seven).

"Yes, Lord Elrond is holding a council to discuss an important matter," Aragorn explained. "The Ring of Power has been discovered, and, after I escort a representative of the Dunedain to Rivendell, I will be assisting the small travel party bearing it to Lord Elrond."

"The Ring of Power?" You knew you sounded slow by repeating everything the men were saying, but the information was overwhelming that way. You collected your thoughts, analysing Aragorn's words. "Who is to be this representative of the Dunedain?"

The King raised his head, and announced in a trembling voice, "You."

"I cannot go as I normally would, Y/N," your father explained as you froze in shock. "King Derngrim requires my advice and assistance, and someone of a fresh view and younger and lither nature would be better on such a journey."

Your thoughts raced, and you could not stop a smile from growing on your face. You'd wanted to go on journey's and quests like Aragorn for years, whilst in reality you'd never been allowed further than an hour's ride form the Dunedain lands. Sure, you were the most skilled female warrior, second only to Aragorn and perhaps Halbarad, but due to the King having no heirs, and you being his successor's (your father's) only heir, you had to be kept 'safe at all times'. This was a chance to prove you didn't need to be kept at home like a Hobbit-child.

"I shall represent our people with pride, King Derngrim, and ... Lord Balmere." You felt the use of your father's name to be more appropriate in such serious circumstances. "I shall ride with Lord Aragorn to Rivendell and sit at the Council of Elrond."

"Come, Y/N," Aragorn said as your made a final curtsy. "We must leave immediately."

You noted that both horses, Brego (Aragorn's) and Nethiel (your horse, a free-spirited female much like you, that you'd named after a Sindarin elf your father had known) where already loaded with supplies, and swords were strapped on them. A moment's hesitation seized you as you considered your regal garb and the long journey

"You must ride in that dress, Y/N," your father said, as if reading your mind. "It is only proper our delegate should arrive in such well-respecting attire."

Internally sighing, you nodded dutifully, though you wondered how in the name of Elendil you would achieve riding anything in the dress.

Kissing your father goodbye, you accepted a lift from Aragorn onto Nethiel and swung your other leg over her dappled back, relieved to find the dress's skirt was much, much looser than it seemed, allowing you to comfortably sit on the horse.

"Follow me," Aragorn said, kicking Brego into a slow trot as you wound through the halls of the court, handmaidens staring up at both of you in awe. As soon as you got outside, Aragorn urged his horse into a run, and you did the same, giving a small shout of joy at the feeling of the galloping horse beneath you.

- - -

"We are almost there," Aragorn told you, as your horse trotted slowly through a beautiful and abundant wood. "I think you will adore Rivendell."

"I have always wished to see the place you grew up," you admitted. "And meet this love of your life."

Aragorn flushed a deep pink. "Yes, well, I do not have time to meet her. I must venture to find the Ringbearer."

"Will you not spare a few minutes for the elf you love?" you asked.

Aragorn sighed. "Every second I spend apart from Arwen is a second that tears me in two. Yet the fate of all the Middle-Earth hangs in the balance of this mission. No time can be spared."

He gestured for you to pick up speed, and you did so, urging your horse through a set of gates. Aragorn did not enter, instead dipping his head in farewell.

"I will see you soon, Y/N," he promised, turning and galloping away.

You felt a sick worry settle in your stomach at the sight of his retreating horse.

"Lady Y/N?" a young elf asked, his long h/c hair not dissimilar to your own. "Lord Elrond wishes to speak with you."

You slid from Nethiel, patting her neck soothingly as she bore your supplies away to some stables, led by the elf-boy.

Elrond ...

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