Faril Nin [My Huntress]

Title: Faril Nin My Huntress
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 – R (for graphic violence detail)
Characters: Orophin/OFC
Time: Begins before the Fellowship come into Lórien in TA 3018… Ends FA 250.
Chapter(s): 10/12
Summary: How he couldn’t wait to share this feeling with Gwaeron; this happiness in conclusion, in the end of the evil wave that the storm of Morgoth had started ages beyond ages ago. It was the end and at last a beautiful beginning.
Author: Codi Lyn
Disclaimer: I realize that Arwen was the last elf born in Middle Earth but I am changing it with my license as the author. Also, I don’t know quite what season it is when the Fellowship are in Lórien but I’ve also changed a bit of stuff in the timeline as well (i.e. Legolas having just left and then a few months later they’re in Lórien, which is not movie or book-verse…oh well). I don’t own anything (except for my OC’s) and it all belongs to Tolkien, the mastah.

Chapter 10

That week Orophin and his huntress began to take walks through the City at Lady Galadriel’s consent. His strength grew stronger every day and the pair went longer and longer on the natural paths with fewer breaks for his breath and energy to be recovered. Even with their lives returning to somewhat normalcy, when he had been offered to return and live in Rúmil’s talan Orophin refused adamantly, explaining that he would be better to sleep further away from Gwaeron until the day of their marriage had passed. This caused a deep blush to stain the ranger’s cheeks and afterward she could no longer bring herself to push the topic.
To her very little knowledge, elven weddings consisted of the couple consummating the marriage first and then afterwards there would be held a celebration lasting a week at the very least. Her mountain himself, had told Gwaeron that he would give her the gift of performing a traditional mortal ceremony. This chivalrous attitude never ceased to increase her love for him and she thought this the best gift he could have bestowed.
Rúmil and Anameleth had already plighted their troth the night the galadhrim left for Rohan; and had secretly performed the marriage the night of his return. Indeed, Orophin and Gwaeron had only found out a few days after the bonding had been made and regretted having missed the celebration that they, oddly enough, had heard nothing about.
“Oh no! There has been no feast yet.” Ana explained to them with a smile and stole a glance at Rúmil before he went on,
“We decided to prolong our blessed secrecy a little longer…” He grinned with a wink to his new wife.
“If you neither would mind it, we’d like to announce our bond during your own reception. It will be almost a double wedding!” Anameleth explained happily and Orophin burst out laughing, to his hurt, while Gwaeron clapped her hands in amusement.
“That’s perfect! I think it a wonderful idea.” Their mortal friend pronounced with an infectious smile and it was settled between the four of them.
Passing the seventh week from Orophin’s return from battle, Gwaeron arrived home, as she called his talan now, from visiting her beau for a few hours. Véredhiel settled into a deep slumber on her cot with blankets all about her and Gwaeron now combed the lively curls of hair into some semblance of submission after her quick bath. The ranger felt, rather than heard, a presence at the door and soon after there was a gentle knock upon the frame.
“I’m coming…” She called out softly and pulled the wet mass of auburn hair to one side of her neck. It had grown quite long since arriving in Lorien some months ago. She opened the door and was met unexpectedly by the Lady of the Wood herself.
“Good evening, Gwaeron. Am I disturbing you?” The elven queen inquired politely, even though the answer was already evident, else she wouldn’t have bothered her to come.
“No, of course not. Verry is just sleeping on the mattress… Please, do come in.” She gestured into the large room and offered her a seat at the kitchen table. Both ladies sat down quietly, though one with a more flowing grace than the other.
“I have come to give you news, and an offer I doubt you will refuse lightly.” The Golden Lady began with a serene smile and the mortal ranger responded in kind. Until the first bit of news was released.
“The One ring of power has at last been destroyed.” Gwaeron could only sit in silent shock, yet Galadriel continued,
“The young halfling you met upon passing through our Wood, Frodo Baggins, has completed their journey with Samwise Gamgee at his side.” The woman sat on the edge of her seat and finally interrupted,
“But what of the others? My brother… are they-“
“They are well, and rest in Minas Tirith now. But I am afraid that only the Steward’s son has been the casualty of the Fellowship’s quest. He fell in Amon Hen, defending two of the other hobbits, Meriadoc and Peregrin.” Her face fell sullen as she remembered the fellow mortal that had befriended her briefly during his time in Lothlorien. Amon Hen… they were not very far down from Lorien at all when he was killed. She remembered his last look had been dark and not himself, could he have known that so soon it would be his end? Galadriel drew her attention away with her next encouraging piece of news,
“Your brother has been working hard to rebuild the destruction of his city. I daresay the White City shall shine brighter than it ever has in all the long line of its Kings.” Gwaeron’s eyes shot up at the meaning of her words.
“His city? King? Has he decided…” The elleth’s smile and sparkling gaze were enough to know. The mortal raised her hands to her cheeks and choked before a happy sob rang out, the tears shining in her eyes only served to reflect her broad smile. Laughing and crying intermingled issued from the young woman’s mouth and she could hardly contain such happiness that filled her. At last, he had chosen to be their father’s rightful heir! Galadriel placed a hand on the child’s hand and grinned.
“There is more, young one. Can you stand it?” The younger laughed and nodded vigorously in assent.
“My grand-daughter will soon be on her way from Imladris to meet him and, though my husband and I will not be traveling to the White City, we will send a group of representatives from the Golden Wood to attend both the coronation and then union of the King and Evenstar. Seeing as you have strong ties now to this realm and your brother’s City, we were considering adding you to the party?” Tears flooded her deep green depths until everything was tremendously blurred no matter how the woman blinked in her excitement.
This was so much, so wonderfully much for her to take in at once. She would see him, see her brother take the crown of the King of Gondor, and see him marry the elven maiden he had plighted his troth to so very long ago. He would be truly happy and it made her all the more joyous to know of his peace.
“Yes, yes of course! I would be deeply gratified to you, my lady. How could I refuse such an offer?” She coughed out and smiled with bright eyes and an equally bright face that lit up every corner of the room. Gwaeron found herself unable to stop laughing and truly did not care if she ever did as the White Lady, also, began to join her. How could she be happier than she was in this moment? Immediately she thought of her fiancée deeper within Caras Galadhon.
“Will Orophin come with us? Has anyone told him aught?” Her mind raced when she though that he may yet be still too weak to travel so far so soon.
“My husband is with him now, young one. And if your company leaves soon, you may not have to travel so quickly to meet up with my son-in-law’s procession. Orophin’s strength should not be a problem for him with you at his side.” The wise she-elf assured her calmly and stood from the table with the elegance born of a Noldor.
“I cannot thank you enough for this visit, my lady.” The mortal ranger walked her to the door and smiled at the beautifully ethereal queen.
‘And it was good to see you again, young one. I am glad to see you smile once more.’ Gwaeron heard within her mind as the Lady of the Wood gazed down on her serenely, an air of friendship behind those all-seeing eyes.
“Do not sleep overlong tomorrow, Gwaeron. You will need to have packed your things by breakfast.” She finished aloud with a motherly tone of voice and the lady ranger smiled, waving as Galadriel glided down the stairs and walked alone into the peaceful night.
Turning to the bed where Véredhiel rested unmoving, Gwaeron smiled and brushed the last of her happy tears away from her face in a tired motion. She had woken early that morning to ensure Orophin would not be alone upon waking in his rooms. But now, after staying awake when he and the child had napped together, and after receiving some of the most joyous news of her young eighty-six years, she was physically and mentally exhausted. It had been a delightfully long day. The little one’s steady breathing was measured by her tiny back rising and falling continuously, the consistent movements comforting the ranger as a yawn escaped her lips.
Gwaeron sat gently upon the bed and leaned over to be face to face with her daughter’s sleeping eyes. Almost as if sensing her mama’s presence, Véredhiel stretched and curled on her side into Gwaeron’s chest. The lady ranger giggled softly in content and stroked the little swirls of reddish-brown baby fine hair until she, too, fell into a steady pattern of breathing and sleep claimed her.
Orophin, however, could not find rest easily, not after what Lord Celeborn had just informed him of earlier that day. They had gone over every detail of the significant battles that had ended the war. Every wave, every charge was fresh in his mind after so well a description given to him by the king of Lorien.
How he couldn’t wait to share this feeling with Gwaeron; this happiness in conclusion, in the end of the evil wave that the storm of Morgoth had started ages beyond ages ago. It was the end and at last a beautiful beginning.
Finally restless enough to get up and out of bed, Orophin pulled a linen jerkin over the bandages that covered his sides and chest from the worst of his wounds. Tar sat up from his comfortable end of the elf’s mattress and watched the edhel growl in discomfort at the raising of his arms. The hound now happily served as Orophin’s company during the night and had hardly left his side since arriving. At the eager thud of his tail thumping against the covers, Orophin turned and grinned as the hound waited for commands obediently.
“Come here, lad. Let’s go see your mama.” At the mention of his mistress the hound leapt off the bed and galloped ahead of him as soon as the door was opened. Orophin laughed quietly and shut the door behind as he began the slow trek down several stairs to reach the ground floor of the City.
The wood was calm that night with a gentle breeze flowing in cool from the east, the freshness of it seeming to blow away the old shadows of evil that had too long dwelt in the dark. Silent it was, also, Tar’s happy panting and claws against the gravel of the path made the only noises to speak of. Orophin sighed as he kicked a stray pebble in his limping, unable yet to put all his weight on the right leg that had been deeply wounded at the thigh and hip. He cursed quietly under his breath, he wouldn’t be able to train without risk to his health for some months. He loathed being idle. Perhaps this trip to Minas Tirith would take his mind off such things for a while.
“Or it could simply remind me.” He muttered miserably as Tar leaned against his left side, attempting to steady his master. Orophin gave the over-large dog a good pat.
“You’ll keep me company, though. Won’t you Tar?” He panted up at him in a funny sort of smile and Orophin chuckled good-naturedly. Of course it wouldn’t be that bad. He had Gwaeron and his daughter to keep him busy along the way. No doubt Véredhiel would grow frustrated on the long rides, unable to lie on her belly or back and play, as she had been every day in his rooms. He smiled happily when he thought of her, remembering his own childhood and that he had been restless when constricted as well, always wanting to move or play with his eldest brother.
“Verry would do well with a brother or sister, herself.” He spoke quietly but with a grin that brightened his face and countenance, helping him make the final steps up to his own flat. Tar trotted up easily and took his place on the porch by the door, plopping down in a heap as he waited on his master, sensing it would not be welcome for him to greet his mistress just yet.
Orophin smiled at the hound and, gently as he could, limped over the threshold into the large open room. The sound of soft breathing came to his sharp ears momentarily and he turned to the familiar sight of Gwaeron with their daughter tucked securely beneath her arm. He sighed blissfully and leaned against the wall a moment to admire them.
How had he gotten so lucky? Surely the Valar had worked this perfectly to their plan, but how had he been chosen to become so wonderfully blessed? It was entirely beyond his comprehension.
A deep expression of peace filled Gwaeron’s fair features and her eyes gradually fluttered open and settled upon his subtle, yet powerful presence. Sweet Elbereth, he is such a vision to behold! His comfortably fitted jerkin hung open-laced to the center of his chest and several pieces of hair now framed his face from the loose braid she had situated for him that morning. His clear blue orbs flitted over her form once and she smiled under his appreciative gaze.
“What time is it? Morning yet?” She whispered with a tired hitch in her voice that hinted at her recent sleep deprived schedule. He shook his head gently and stepped carefully over to the simple cot.
“It is nearly midnight; you can rest longer yet, faril nin.” Bending over her slowly, he murmured the assurance and kissed her temple affectionately. She closed her eyes and sighed happily, tingeing on a yawn.
“When will we get married, Orophin?” She asked sleepily, reaching out to hold his large and masculine hand that lay dormant at the edge of her bed. He brightened at the subject and could not help but convey the plans he’d been thinking over for the duration of the week; the conclusion of which had only come to him during Lord Celeborn’s visit.
“I had thought to ask the King of Gondor for your hand, since now you are royalty as well, my love.” She beamed up at him.
“What better place for a wedding ceremony than the White City of your own people? Your brother will want to give you away, I am certain.” He continued and sat on the opposing side of the cot directly behind her, and leaned against the wall at his back. One hand was held caringly in hers while the other stroked her slightly damp strands of auburn hair across the pillow. The movement was relaxing to both parties and, while Gwaeron had almost instantly gone back to sleep at her fiancée’s gentle voice, Orophin rested his head against the living wood behind them and slowly (despite himself) saw everything blur into a peaceful oblivion and he knew no more that sweet night.