She was born questioning her place in Middle Earth.
She grew realising that her powers brought only pain.
She journeyed, to find the truth and love for herself.
An orphaned ranger hailing from Imladris, Varilerin had always sensed an impending do...
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"Varilerin, is something bothering you?" Varilerin looked up to see Ellain folding her arms, her brows furrowed in the most uncharacteristic of her. Varilerin's hand stopped sharpening her sword.
"No, I am fine," Varilerin answered, sheathing the weapon back to its scabbard. Ellain sighed, eyeing the dark circles beneath her eyes. She must have lost a lot of sleep again. She wished that Galadriel had a medicine or the sort which could cure this illness of hers, for she could not bear seeing Varilerin looking like a ghost anymore.
"Clearly, you are not," remarked Ruindoldir, pulling out their horses from the stables. "We need to have our fullest attention on our way home. It would be good if you settle your problems."
"That's quite harsh," Ellain shot back. "You know this is not a one-time problem."
Ruindoldir raised his brows. "I know," he whispered, shepherding the horses away. "Come on, don't dilly daily. We should be departing soon."
Ellain sighed and scratched her head. As the leader of the Rivendell rangers, Ruindoldir was known to be stoic and cold, almost inhumane in his proficiency in controlling his emotions. Nevertheless, he still had his temperamental moments, which unfortunately inflicted him today.
Varilerin stood up, guiding her own horse towards the gates. She heard a flock of ravens cawing above, calling to her like old friends. She had not told anyone, but it seemed birds took a special liking on her. Often times birds would deliver things to her—a nut, parchments, and sometimes freaking shivs. While she wished to understand their true intentions, she could only regard the gesture as a friendly one.
But these days, she saw more of the birds than to her liking, as if they were trying to warn her. She wished she could actually talk to them.
As they approached the gates, the sense of safety slowly left her conscience, and she was alert to the numerous dangers waiting for them on the road. She received no visions the night before, which was a good sign. Hopefully.
Arwen was bidding farewell to Celeborn and Galadriel. Under the morning sun Varilerin could see a slight resemblance of Arwen to her grandparents. Varilerin wondered, vaguely, if her grandparents also looked like her.
"Farewell, my child," Celeborn said. "May your ourney be safe and sound." He kissed her forehead, and Arwen smiled gently.
"We promise you we will keep her safe, my lord, my lady," said Ruindoldir sternly. "We shall depart now."
Varilerin brought Arwen her horse, glancing at Galadriel. A haunting smile still carved her face.
I will be waiting for our next meeting, Varilerin Glorfindiel.
"You can ride a horse, correct?" Varilerin teased Arwen, who much to her chagrin, was wearing a dress. While Elves had unnatural prowess in riding horses due to their compatibility with animals, Arwen's flowy grey dress would do her no good.
