𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

1| arrivals

The arrow soared through the air, hitting the target with a thunk. A frustrated groan escaped from me as I realised it was my seventh arrow to miss its mark.

Imladris was quiet at this time in the morning. My hair fluttered gently in the breeze, cascading from my shoulders like black ink on a tilted piece of parchment. In my hands, an Elven bow glittered in the soft sunlight.

I breathed in, reaching for another arrow from my quiver, silently admiring the intricate Maladrian craftsmanship that went into this singular arrowhead — one of the last few remnants of my home. A sigh fell from my lips at the thought.

Now if only I could do it justice and hit the centre of the target.

I nocked the arrow, focusing on the red circle at the centre of the target as I pulled back the bowstring. Toning out the soft fluttering of the leaves in the wind, all I could hear was my breathing, and all I could feel was the tension of the string between my fingers.

Pursing my lips, I released the arrow and watched as it cut through the air, embedding into the target. In the red ring around the red circle.

With a groan, I threw down my bow. It clattered to the stone beneath my feet, a true symbol of defeat. Perhaps archery was just something I would never be able to master.

Instead, I pulled an elvish throwing knife out of its sheath on my thigh, one of six that was gifted to me. As I turned it in my palm, it glinted wickedly in the sunlight. Hurling it towards the target, I heard the faint rush of air before the blade stabbed into the target.

Right in the black dot in the centre of the red circle. A satisfied smile spread across my lips.

Hearing feet behind me, I turned to face an elf with straight black hair framing his angular face.

"My Lady Daeriel, he's arrived."

My heart leapt at his words.

Finally. It had been far too long.

Running to the target, I yanked the knife out of the target, sheathing it in the pocket on my left thigh, before dusting off my dress and running out of the courtyard, my arrows forgotten.

As I entered the entrance courtyard, my eyes were met with the sight of three hobbits. Beside them stood a man.

He looked much older than the same young man who had departed Rivendell many years ago. His hair, once smooth and elegant, now hung from his head in tangled locks, and his clean clothes had been replaced with dirty, worn clothes of a weary traveller. And yet, despite his change in appearance, my mind instantly clicked with recognition upon seeing his face.

Aragorn.

My smile widened into a grin, and I could no longer contain my excitement. Speeding into a run once again, I wrapped my arms around the man's neck in a warm embrace, taking him by surprise.

"Gwador*! Gwannas lû and (It's been so long)!" I exclaimed, ignoring the gaze of a few elves around us. They weren't used to seeing such displays of affection, but at that point, I couldn't care less.

Aragorn laughed as he returned the hearty embrace.

"I've missed you too, gwathel**." He replied, patting me on the back, before pulling apart and meeting my gaze. "You haven't changed a bit in the sixty years since I last saw you."

"And you..." I chuckled, before pausing to really take in his new appearance.

Yet, it wasn't just his appearance that had changed. From the moment I saw him, I noticed that his eyes no longer held that doe-eyed look of heroism, full of misplaced hope and naivete. Instead, behind his eyes, the scars from years of war and battle had taken their toll. His new demeanor was one of poise, a balancing act between wisdom and adversity, experience and hardship.

Nevertheless, a soft smile spread across my face. "...well...you've certainly grown."

His smile widened, his brown eyes glinting in the morning sunlight. I hadn't seen them in so long, and I was glad to see that at least the warmth never left over the years.

However, I was also aware that now was not exactly the time to catch up on the past sixty-six years of his life. I had heard about why they were really in Rivendell.

I knew what the hobbits were in possession of.

Clearing my throat, I straightened my posture, regaining my composure with a sigh.

"As much as I'd love to catch up with you, gwador, I'm sure there are more important matters at hand." I tilted my head towards the hobbits. "What happened out there?"

Aragorn nodded, a grave look now passing over his expression. He exhaled, lowering his voice.

"I intended to escort Frodo and the hobbits from Bree to Imladris. But, we were hunted down by the nine. At Weathertop, they attacked."

He crossed his arms, his lips drawing together in a tight line.

"We managed to ward them off, but Frodo...he was stabbed by a Morgul blade of the Witch-King."

As the painfully familiar name rang in my ears, the pit in the bottom of my stomach deepened. Suddenly, it felt as if the warm air around us had dropped drastically in temperature. I felt my hands clench into fists as I tried to stop the deluge of memories from flooding into my mind.

The clash of swords. Metal upon metal.

Fire, smoke and ash.

I closed my eyes. A throbbing pain erupted from the scar on my left shoulder, where the very same blade had pierced my flesh.

I felt Aragorn's hand gently grip my arm.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching through mine with great concern.

Another thing that had not changed since he left: his care for others.

I nodded, slowly unclenching my fists.

"Just memories."

A grave look of understanding passed over his face.

"I'm sorry." He apologised, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine, Aragorn." I tried to reassure him. It was not his responsibility to deal with my past. It was mine.

Plastering a smile onto my face to hide the pain, I turned away from him to face the three hobbits patiently waiting behind us.

"Come, let's go find Frodo and Elrond, shall we?"

As I introduced myself to the hobbits, the nagging feeling in the back of my mind never seemed to go away.

────── ༻♛༺ ──────

I'll be placing asterisks (*) in the story whenever I reference concepts or characters that  aren't part of LOTR but are part of Tolkien's greater legendarium. I will also be elaborating more about them at the bottom of the chapter. It's not essential to understand this book, but I think they're really interesting!

*Gwador -  used to refer to a brother in all but blood

**Gwathel - used to refer to a sister in all but blood

The chapters get longer, I'm just getting things up and running. Hope you enjoyed, please don't forget to vote and comment. Love y'all :)