The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 19: The Fellowship of the Ring

The Fellowship was to set out at dusk. Until then, the members were to prepare themselves well. At noon Gandalf, Varilerin, and Aragorn had discussed the best route to take, for they were the travellers of the company. Gandalf was to lead the Fellowship, with Aragorn as second in command. Varilerin had no say in this decision, for she did not want to become a leader despite being far more experienced than Aragorn.

Varilerin was now struggling in finding her master, for her weapons and equipment had all been apprehended by the Elf. She could not find them in the barracks, thus it was only possible that Glorfindel was hiding it somewhere in the rooms. When she finally saw him in the Hall of Fire, she swore she had a killing intent running in her veins.

“Varilerin!” Glorfindel greeted cheerfully as he waved his hands. The gesture merely boiled Varilerin’s blood and she pulled her own master from his seat to his feet. She glared at him and extended her hand.

“Forgive my impoliteness, Master, but I am afraid I have lost my weapons. Surely you know their place?” she said as calm as she could, forming a deadly glare with her eyes. Glorfindel merely chuckled and pushed her hand away. “Master, I should be leaving in a mere several hours and thus I need my weapons.”

“Surely you can use anything else?” Glorfindel retorted, only to be frightened by Varilerin deadly scowl. “Fine, I am just teasing you. You haven’t change, have you?” Glorfindel gestured for her to sit and wait, before he disappeared to the corridors. Varilerin sat alone in the hall, trying to comprehend how her master could be so relaxed about the matter.

Not long after, Glorfindel returned with a bundle covered in cloth in his hands. Her weapons, she presumed, had not been ‘harmed’ by her master. “There you go,” Glorfindel said as he laid the bundle on the floor. Varilerin knelt beside it and carefully uncovered the folds, revealing her blades, the same gifts Elladan and Elrohir had given her for her coming of age. She missed the brothers, though unfortunately they had been sent to the Dunedain rangers for an errand. Her knives and quiver were still there as well, much to her relieve-

“Master, where is my bow?” Varilerin asked sharply. She turned to her master for answers, but the ellon merely whistled in ignorance. “This is not the time for jokes, Master Glorfindel. Where is my bow”

“I am not joking,” Glorfindel said. “Your bow has disappeared, that I sure know. You no longer need it.”

“What do you mean?” Varilerin asked, knowing a hidden intention behind his voice. Glorfindel smiled when he saw she understood. To her surprise, Varilerin had not noticed him holding something behind his back.

“The bow is no longer worthy for you,” Glorfindel said. “You have grown into a wise elleth, wiser than many, and thus I have decided to give you this.”

Glorfindel revealed to her a bow which blinded her eyes. It was truly beautiful, long and carved from silver wood which glowed like the moon. Flowers and birds were engraved on the bow and its string glinted like the stars. Varilerin was mesmerized, for she had never seen a weapon so beautiful.

“I made this specially for you,” he said, handing the bow to her hands. She received it as if she was receiving a fragile glass, her eye studying it in fascination. It was so light, yet strong. “Its string is made from Elven hair,” Glorfindel added. “Mine, specifically. Just to remind you that I am always there for you.”

“Master, I—“ Varilerin was interrupted when suddenly Glorfindel pulled her into his embrace. She froze, but Glorfindel’s warmth melted her.

“I cannot believe I need to see you off again,” Glorfindel said. “But I am proud of your decision. Be safe, for your journey is full of danger.”

“I will,” Varilerin whispered, her voice faltering with inexplicable emotion. “Thank you, Ada.”

“You have always been my daughter, Varilerin,” Glorfindel said. “This quest will bring you many changes, I know this. One of which I wish for your heritage to be discovered.”

Varilerin pulled herself slowly from Glorfindel. “I care no more about my heritage, Ada, for you are my father.”

Glorfindel smiled sadly, brushing her single braid which fell to her cheek. “I pray for your safety return, Varilerin. You have my blessings.”

“Thank you for your blessings, Ada.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Varilerin was second to arrive at the village gate, only to be preceded by Gandalf. She wore the same attire she had been wearing in her travels, though this time it was newer and more comfortable. Arwen had taken the pleasure to dress her as she pleased, a simple farewell gift from the lady. Varilerin was given a grey tunic which was covered by another black tunic, as well as black leggings, leather bracers, and a belt with pouches filled with herbs. She was given a new, black cloak by Glorfindel to accompany her new bow and old weapons. Her hair was once more tied into a ponytail, with a braid hanging loosely on her left cheek. She had chosen to keep using Gandalf’s scarf, which hid her mother’s necklace safely beneath it.

“Return safe,” Arwen said to her curtly, before she embraced her friend one last time. Arwen obviously was reluctant to let Varilerin go, for she had been away from her grasp for too long. However, Varilerin had no choice. She had chosen the path for her future, unless this time she won’t be alone.

“I will eventually return to my travelling appearance, I assure you,” she said to the wizard when she saw him studying her new look, before she pulled up her hood to shadow her face. Arwen laughed faintly before she excused herself, returning to Elrond, who was bidding farewell with Aragorn. Perhaps Arwen was saddened more than the others, for she was to let go 2 of her most precious friends. Varilerin could not find any elleth with much stronger heart and soul.

Not long after the others began arriving, all ready and equipped with their weapons. The Hobbits also wielded their own swords, smaller and certainly in better quality than the ones Aragorn had given to them. Once all of them had gathered, the Elves of Rivendell as well as other guests stood in front of them to bid farewell. Varilerin noticed Arwen beside Elrond, while Glorfindel and Bilbo stood far behind. She nodded lastly at Glorfindel before she shifted her attention to the peredhil.

“The Ring bearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom,” Elrond started. “And you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of Elves, Men, and all free folk go with you.” Elrond raised his hand and gestures for them to leave. Varilerin bowed to the Elven Lord before she turned to Frodo, waiting for his move.

“The Fellowship awaits the Ring bearer,” Gandalf explained. Frodo glanced at the other members anxiously as he drew a long breath. He then began his step away from the gates, accompanied by Gandalf walking behind him. He strengthened his own resolve as he took his first steps in the journey, assuring himself that he could do his task until its end,

The Fellowship thus began their journey out of Rivendell, towards the dark depths of Mount Doom. Gandalf led the company to the South, towards the Misty Mountains, where he and the rangers in the company had hoped that their journey remained secret. Legolas took the role as the scout, walking in front of Gandalf, while the Hobbits walked in the centre with the protection of Gimli and Aragorn. Varilerin walked behind Boromir, acting as the back eye of the group. At first this decision was clearly objected by the Hobbits, but Varilerin had managed to assure them that she could be as keen as Legolas.

As the day passed and the journeyed farther, a certain trust developed among the Fellowship. Habit, might be the correct word to describe their strange trust. Meals were to be cooked by the Hobbits, while the warriors would be taking watches. Varilerin and Legolas, who had Elven blood running through their veins, took the longest watch when the others were resting. At this time Aragorn and Boromir would teach the Halflings how to fight, a role Varilerin gratefully handed to the warriors after her bitter experience with Merry and Pippin back in Rivendell. Gandalf would sometimes discuss their routes and paths with Varilerin or Aragorn, who had a wide knowledge of the lands in Middle Earth. Gimli the Dwarf, meanwhile, had taken the liberty to erase the boredom ensuing during their rests by bickering constantly about their exhausting journey. It did not bother the only female too much, but it certainly seemed to irritate the ellon.

It took them several days before they finally walk below the Misty Mountains, among the vast plains of glittering grass. After the tremendously painful walking for the Hobbits, they finally stopped for a rest close to large stony ruins. Sam immediately did his job and cooked their meals, while Merry and Pippin trained with Boromir, under the watchful eyes of Aragorn. Gandalf once again found himself being complained by Gimli, but didn’t pay too much attention and instead smoked with ease. Meanwhile, Varilerin secluded herself on top of a single rock, sitting idly as she watched the horizon with her sharp eyes. She had maintained her quiet behaviour in the Fellowship, but found herself frequently forced to join conversations with Gandalf and Gimli. The others joined their struggles to make her talk, though she had mostly managed to end all of their efforts with a death glare.

Even as she tried to daydream away from the noise Merry and Pippin’s swords was creating, she still noticed Legolas lurking behind her.

“I wonder what you are doing,” Varilerin muttered, sure that Legolas was surprised behind her. She turned to face him. “Well, are you going to say something, Legolas?”

“No, it is something trivial,” Legolas stammered. “I come here to utter my deepest gratitude.”

“For what cause?” Varilerin asked, her face plain and straight like an arrow. “I don’t remember owing you a thanks.”

“For saving my kin a hundred years ago,” Legolas continued, his voice now calmer. Varilerin tilted her head, finally remembering the horrifying event in the past. She winced away, trying to brush the memories from her mind, but they only lingered and gave her the images of Ellain and Ruindoldir. “Are you alright?” Legolas asked.

“It is my pleasure to help you,” Varilerin replied calmly. “Though I request for you not discuss my past anymore. What has passed is a memory, it should not linger in the present.”

Legolas was bemused, for he saw that she lost her composure when she talked about her past. He was urged with curiosity, but refrained himself to respect her. “Forgive me. I shall not do it again.”

“Thank you,” Varilerin said. She nodded gratefully and turned her attention to the training Hobbits. The Hobbits were so far so good at their swordplay, she noticed, but their small stature was not suitable for swords. Daggers would perhaps be more suitable, she thought as she continued to watch them with folded arms. Daggers, why do the weapons poke my mind?

“Tauriel,” Varilerin blurted unconsciously. She realized too late to silent her lips, for Legolas was now standing beside her, marred with suspicions. “Tauriel,” Varilerin continued, stammering. “How is Tauriel?”

“You worry about her?” Legolas asked, his tone suspecting and accusing. His action was not questionable, for Varilerin had no specific connections with Tauriel. As far as the ellon knew, Varilerin merely fought with Tauriel decades ago, and only for a brief time. But using her judging skills, it was enough for Varilerin to learn Tauriel’s overall behaviour and skills, including her pains and struggles as a Silvan Elf.

“She fought with me and suffered… a deep pain after the battle in Erebor. The thought passed by.” Varilerin coughed to ease her anxiety, but failed to when the ellon instead studied her with his freezing blue eyes.

“She is well,” Legolas answered briefly. “But the pain never disappeared. She could not stay in the forest with the scar in her heart. She has chosen to sail from Middle Earth.”

Varilerin was surprised by this information. Tauriel was a strong elleth, as far as she had seen, both in body and soul. But it seemed a broken heart could not be healed so easily. “It is for her best, for she is a kind elleth,” Varilerin muttered under her scarf. She focused her attention back to Pippin, who was now engaged in a skilful fight with Boromir.

“Yes,” Legolas said. “Tell me, Varilerin, Will you sail to the Undying Lands when all of this ends?”

“What an interesting question. Where did you get the idea to ask this? Surely you don’t really mind a random peredhil’s decisions.”

“I am just asking for an opinion, since I myself have not come to a decision,” Legolas defended. “But judging from your response, I see that you have not decided yet.”

“There you have it, the answer,” Varilerin stated. “I do not have yet the solid reason to leave Middle Earth. This is the place where I was born and grow. There are sufferings and pain, yes, but they make this place beautiful.” She paused, realizing she had just talked too much. “I believe you haven’t chosen as well?”

Legolas nodded and joined her eyes in watching the Hobbits’ training, feeling himself satisfied with the brief conversation. It was a strange conversation, but somehow the ellon felt comforted with it. Most times, whenever they scouted or took watches together, she would not talk. Even when she talked, it would be because Legolas was the one asking. He did not like such a quiet atmosphere and had always tried to make her speak her mind and heart, but found himself failing most of the times. Fortunately, this time he had succeeded. He smiled at this achievement and amused himself with Pippin’s battle performance.

“Move your feet,” Aragorn said. Pippin finished his sparring with a single strike, before Boromir stepped back to take a breath.

“You look good Pippin,” Merry remarked.

“Thanks,” Pippin said, before Merry clashed with Boromir. Varilerin continued to watch them, until suddenly a strange feeling trembled through her body. She immediately stood up and glanced around cautiously.

“What’s wrong?” Legolas asked, garnering the attention of the company to her. Varilerin did not answer and instead continued to search he surroundings.

“Found something, Lass?” Gimli asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered unsurely. There was no other movement on the ground, so she shifted her attention to the sky. For a moment she doubted if the strange feeling was a premonition of an unfortunate event, but it was for the best for her to be sure. Then, she caught a wisp of black cloud closing their distance.

“Argh!” Pippin shouted when Boromir accidentally hurt his hands.

“Sorry!” Boromir said, trying to look at Pippin’s hands. The Hobbit turned to Merry for defence, but found his friend’s attention somewhere else. He stayed silent, much to Boromir’s surprise, so the Man himself studied the others.

“What is that?” Sam finally asked, now seeing the wisp clearly.

“Nothing, it’s just a wisp of cloud,” Gimli guessed without further thought.

“That’s not a cloud,” Varilerin said as she scrutinized the objects. The uncomfortable feeling bugging her grew stronger.

“It’s flying here fast,” Boromir observed. “Against the wind.”

“Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas warned. Varilerin widened her eyes when she saw the same as Legolas and turned to the others.

“Hide! Now!” she ordered, leaping from the rock where she had been standing and helping Sam turn off the fire. The others scampered immediately, taking the bags to their possession and herding Bill away from the open plain. Varilerin stamped the fire off before she lastly led Sam under the rocks, waiting for the birds to pass by. Above them flocks of black crows flew in circles, their eyes she knew were searching for them. Despite their hiding, Varilerin knew that they had been found by the spies. They were spies of Saruman, birds trained to see more than ordinary men could see.

The birds circled the ruins for a long moment, before they finally left the company slowly. When Gandalf saw that all the birds had flown far enough, he emerged from his hiding place, sighing. “Spies of Saruman,” Gandalf said. “The passage south is being watched.” Gandalf turned and laid his eyes on the snowy mountain range beyond.

“Caradhras,” Varilerin muttered. “Gandalf, it is too risky.”

“We have no choice,” Gandalf said to her as he turned to the rest of the company. “We must take the pass of Caradhras!” he told them. Varilerin remained silent as the wizard led them to the snowy mountain, caging a soundless worry in her heart.

000

The great white slopes of Caradhras extended beyond them. The snow was deep and cold, freezing the Hobbits to their bones. They had been travelling several days towards the mountain. The path to the mountain was terribly harsh for the Halflings and Gimli, for they were often sunken into the deep snow. They would then look at Varilerin and Legolas in envy, whose feet allowed them to walk lightly on top of the snow. The sight delighted Varilerin slightly, though she was still concern by the more dangerous path lying before them. Caradhras had been known to be treacherous to its passers, mainly to Dwarfs and Elves, and Varilerin was sure the Fellowship was no exception.

The Fellowship finally reached the base of the pass of Caradhras and white was all they could see. The Hobbits walked with their maximum struggles on the snow, their large hairy feet now not an advantage to their pace.

“At this pace we will never reach Mordor,” Boromir told Varilerin. She snorted as she watched the Hobbits’ efforts. Frodo was in particular more exhausted than his kin, for he was bringing the Ring. Without the others’ knowledge, the Ring was burdening the Hobbit dearly. Varilerin knew this too well, for even without getting close to it she could feel it disturbing her mind and soul.

Frodo’s exhaustion finally took him out, and he stumbled to the snow. The Hobbit rolled downhill like a ball, but Varilerin managed to catch him before he rolled out of their sight. “Frodo, are you alright?” Frodo asked him quietly as she patted his head from snow. He nodded weakly and lifted his hand to check for the Ring. His eyes widened, for he discovered it was not there.

“The Ring!” he exclaimed in panic. He looked around the snow to search for the small object, then found it several feet away, close to Boromir. Varilerin tensed and moved her hand to one of her knives, watching Boromir kneeling down to the Ring and picking its chain up. He lifted it close to his face, staring at it with fascination.

“It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over a small thing,” he muttered as he raised his other hand to touch the Ring. “Such a little thing….”

“Boromir!” Aragorn reminded with his deep voice. Boromir immediately snapped to reality, shuddering slightly. He looked at Aragorn, and then to Frodo, as if he was utterly confused.

“Return the Ring, Boromir,” Varilerin told him sternly. Boromir’s gaze was empty for a second, then he scoffed.

“As you wish!” he said as he walked to Frodo and gave the Ring to him. Frodo snatched the object as fast as he cold and put its chains around his neck once more. Boromir was still eyeing Frodo as if nothing had happened. The Man rubbed Frodo’s curly black hair. “I care not,” he said again with a grin, before turning back from the Hobbit to follow the others.

“Thank you,” Frodo whispered to Varilerin, before he let himself go from her and joined the line of other Hobbits. Varilerin sighed and tailed Boromir, her eyes constantly watching his movements. She pondered over her action just earlier, how she quickly searched for her weapon although Boromir was not an enemy. Back there, she felt him as a threat, not an enemy. She had felt a darkness growing in his heart, again. She feared that the man would harm Frodo, so her body moved on its own.

He is a comrade and an honourable man, Varilerin reminded herself, but decided to keep a cautious eye on him. A day later they started climbing the mountain, towards the pass of Caradhras, where unfortunately they were constantly hit by strong storms. At nights they would find shelter, or anything that could shelter them, and made a small campfire with outmost efforts. The snow storm that occurred each night worsened as they further travelled. The Hobbits froze to the cold, slowing down their pace further. The wine Elrond gave them managed to warm up the Hobbits, but it soon dwindled into a few drops.

This is not looking good, she mused as they continued their journey. The snow had run so deep that Frodo and his friends could not continue further. Aragorn and Boromir was forced to make a path from the snow, while Legolas and Varilerin scouted the area with their keen eyes. The snow storm was worsening, making Boromir’s and Aragorn’s efforts worthless.

“Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse.” The voice was faint, but enough to twitch the two Elves’ ears.

“There’s a fell voice in the air!” Legolas told Gandalf as they both looked up. The chanting continued, getting louder and stronger. “Gandalf!” he shouted.

“It’s Saruman!” Gandalf answered. The storm grew wilder and stronger with the chanting. Suddenly a crack was heard above them. Gandalf looked up to see chunks of rocks falling in front of them, threatening the scouting ellon. He managed to dodge in the nick of time, tumbling back.

“He’s trying to bring down the mountain!” Varilerin heard Aragorn shouting. “Gandalf! We must turn back!”

“No!” Gandalf retorted as he raised his staff to fight Saruman. “Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I’ruith!” Varilerin grunted

“Gandalf! We cannot sta—“ Varilerin widened her eyes in horror when she saw a great streak of lightning hitting the top of the mountain above them, sending an avalanche of snow on top of the Fellowship. Varilerin quickly ran towards Gimli, who was exposed openly to the avalanche, pulling him back just in time. She shielded the Dwarf with her back as more snow fell on top of them, drowsing her into darkness. The others suffered the same fate and were buried under the heavy snow.

Varilerin exerted force to her muscles and wriggled herself free from the caging snow. Her head emerged to the top first, before the others’ joined her head. She immediately looked down and lifted the almost buried Gimli up to his feet, before she stepped out of the sea of snow.

“Thanks, Lass,” Gimli grumbled, letting her know that he was fine. Varilerin nodded and skipped to the Hobbits, helping them escape the cold tragedy.

“We must get off the mountain!” Boromir shouted as he struggled to free Merry and Pippin. “Make for the Gap of Rohan and take west road to my city!”

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn retorted, helping Frodo up.

“If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!” Gimli advised. Gandalf was intricately confused with their suggestions as Varilerin helped him up.

“Gandalf,” Varilerin muttered. “As much as I hate this, there are only two choices left. The mountain is too treacherous.” Gandalf stood silent for a moment, his brows burrowing. There were indeed only two choices left: one to take them closer to the Sauron’s Istari, and the other taking them into the darkness.

“Let the Ring bearer decide,” Gandalf declared. All the members turned to Frodo, still shivering under Aragorn’s protection. He pondered for a second, before he looked back at all of them weakly.

“We’ll go through the mines,” he decided. The decision struck the warriors of the group like lightning, but Gandalf remained calm in the terrifying condition.

“So be it,” Gandalf said curtly. “We shall go to Moria.”