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): 12/12
Summary: “I can assure you, the man waiting to be crowned king of a long monarch-deprived land such as this will not achieve slumber on the eve of it.”
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.
Author’s Note: “Aiya” means “hail” in Sindarin, I believe.

Chapter 12

Orophin maintained a low profile around lord Elrond for many days after his revelation, though he was by no means less affectionate towards Gwaeron, and contented himself with spending as much time with Verry as he could. There were no more attacks, although few villages had not been affected by the marauders, and they gave their aid wherever they were able without staying too long. Once passed through the Eastfold, spirits and nerves rose each day they came closer to Minas Tirith. Orophin and his lady grew anxious for their wedding to take place, Gwaeron could hardly contain her joy on seeing her brother crowned, and there were mixed feelings all around when it came to Estel and the Evenstar’s union, though the majority were thrilled.
The largely elven company passed into Anórien at a comfortable pace and took a rest for the night at a distance of some fifty miles from the City. They would arrive in three or four days at their leisure.
As the meal was being partaken of that evening Arwen and Gwaeron sat together and spoon-fed Véredhiel some mashed vegetables as Elrond ate his dinner peacefully beside the ladies. Orophin sat across from them a good distance from the fire and watched with a smile as Verry babbled and spit her food out to dribble down her chin.
“Come now, love. Swallow your din, Véredhiel.” Gwaeron made faces and coaxed her daughter to keep a bite down. Arwen held her sitting up in her lap and wondered to her step-sister,
“Do you think she doesn’t like these peas? Perhaps something else would be better.” The lady-ranger merely shook her head and laughed in defeat as she playfully wiped Véredhiel’s mouth.
“Oh no, she likes them all right. She’s simply toying with us. She’ll let us know when she’s hungry, just let her down for now, Arwen.” With a shrug she did so and put the baby on her belly on the short browning grass. As Gwaeron and Arwen continued to eat and talk, Orophin set aside his empty plate and watched his daughter intently, propping his elbows on his knees. Craning her neck, Véredhiel noticed her father and her eyes brightened to match his. Eagerly she pushed down on the ground and shuffled forward a little before realizing her knees could support her and worked them forward as well one at a time. Orophin smiled encouragingly and reached out a hand to beckon her closer. With a delightful squeal she moved a little faster and, though she stumbled, crawled in a straight line toward her ada. When her tiny hand hooked onto his fingers, he pulled her up into his lap and laughed as she squealed baby sounds.
“Ah-dadadadadadah!” Elrond and the others turned to look at them and Gwaeron clapped her hands with a laugh.
“She said Ada! Orophin did you hear her?” He looked at her and grinned before holding his daughter up to see and hear. Elrond could not help but smile at the scene he, himself, had once been a part of and felt a bittersweet sense of pride in his daughter for choosing so worthy of an elf to be this child’s ‘Ada,’ her father.
The White City glowed in an ethereal light as the moon reflected off the ivory-like walls against the mountainside. They reached the city not a moment before midnight and, though hardly a soul stirred in the whole place, they were escorted by the new steward, lord Faramir, in a beautiful procession. The young man still wore a sling from his injuries sustained during the war, but was surprisingly a very respectful and wizened man beyond his years from even their first impression of him.
The company was quiet and rarely spoke as they rode up the many levels to where their rooms had been supplied for them and awaited only the occupants. Gwaeron was caught up in a mix of feelings upon entering the city and was nothing short of giddy in anticipation of the coronation. She remembered many aspects of the white castle from long ago trips here with her brother and felt remorse where certain buildings and battlements had been destroyed by the war.
“Lord Elessar has been in the tents on Pelennor these weeks until his coronation and instructed me to convey his deepest regrets and apologies for not being able to greet you. I believe he thought it inappropriate to welcome you to a city not yet his. Though most already accept him as our leader and would not object, there are still those here who keep to the oldest ways.” Arwen and Gwaeron’s expressions were clearly disappointed, but his sister clearly understood the symbolic reasoning behind his actions and accepted them. Faramir continued as they dismounted and servants approached to tend their many steeds.
“His coronation is set for tomorrow, so now if you will excuse me, your maid and man servants will lead you to your chambers.” He bowed low with a hand on his breast and left them to follow the men and women assigned them.
Véredhiel was carefully transferred to Gwaeron’s shoulder from Orophin’s as she slept and a chambermaid came up to Gwaeron with a curtsey.
“My lady, you are Gwaeron? The Elessar’s sister?” With a proud smile, she nodded and adjusted Verry upon her chest.
“I am, and what is your name?” The lesser woman blushed and curtsied again.
“Ceana, my lady. If you would follow me, I’ll take you to your rooms.” Before following her, Gwaeron backed away to Orophin and let him lean down to kiss her gently.
“You’ll come to me shortly and change my bandages?” He confirmed with her and she grinned while raising an eyebrow coyly.
“You have a servant to do that for you, my love.” She teased, yet he growled.
“I would rather have you, faril nin.” She giggled and kissed him again with a nod. Orophin stroked his daughter’s hair and kissed her plump cheek sweetly.
“I’ll see you soon, meleth nin.” She murmured and turned away to walk behind her maidservant.
Ceana led her down several halls and at last into a large room with a balcony and mattresses fit for royalty. In the corner across from the bed, Gwaeron was delighted to see a small carved out crib for Véredhiel to sleep in. She walked over to it and smiled at a tiny garland made of baby’s breath hanging off of one corner. Verry snuggled comfortably into the tiny pillow and covers as she was set down while Gwaeron, herself, yawned and began untying her braids methodically.
“Shall I help you undress, my lady?” Ceana offered as the ranger walked toward the balcony and admired the luminous view. She shook her head but leaned to one side and fluffed out her hair as she answered,
“Oh no, that’s all right. But I am going to another’s room to freshen his bandages and I should like it if you would stay here with my daughter. Is that alright?” The chambermaid nodded hastily and opened the door as Gwaeron made to leave, adding,
“Lady Gwaeron, if it is the lord Orophin you seek, his rooms are left down the hallway at the very last door.” Gwaeron smiled with a light blush as Ceana curtsied again and let her make her way down the torch-lit hall.
The afore mentioned door opened just as Gwaeron came to it and she nearly collided with a tall young man she assumed to be her fiancée’s manservant. He immediately apologized to her and bowed in respect before she could silence him, but, with a smile, she curtsied as well and he was quickly on his way with a rushed, ‘good eve.’ Stepping through the partially opened door, she peaked in to see Orophin stretching out and flexing his right arm. He gasped audibly when it pained him but turned around quickly when the noise of her footfalls at last reached him.
“I thought you would be a little longer. Herumon set out fresh cloths for you to use, they’re on the bed.” She listened to him and went to sit on the mattress and sort the gauzes from the salves to her liking. He pulled off his jerkin and sat next to her with an arm over his head to give her access to the wrappings around his waist.
“These shrapnel marks are healing well. I don’t think they will leave scars for long.” She remarked tiredly and barely suppressed a yawn. He chuckled and stiffly put down his arm once she had finished.
“I daresay they won’t. You are exhausted, faril nin, will you not rest tonight?” Gwaeron shrugged.
“I believe my fatigue is quickly overpowering my excitement, orod nin. You need not worry, tonight I will sleep soundly.” He kissed her brow affectionately and lingered briefly.
“I certainly hope so. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for us.” His huntress smiled, leaning into the embrace he freely offered.
“I love you, Orophin.” She sighed peacefully and said nothing for a while, vaguely monitoring his breathing and heartbeat that drummed out so steadily against her. This felt like home. Her family around her and resting in the arms of the elf she loved more than her own life.
Orophin felt her relax completely against him and only a moment passed before he was assured of her slumber by her slackened hands around his waist. He began to hum a gently melody and leaned her back on one arm as he stood and bent over to gather her to him. He was thankful for his increasing strength now that his wounds were mending and continued his song as he carried his betrothed down the empty passageways. Then he stopped.
“Blast.” He cursed quietly under his breath. He didn’t know where her room was. Contemplating how to proceed he looked down to the woman in his arms. He didn’t want to wake her, she was finally calm in her sleep. He sighed and shook her gently.
“Faril nin, Gwaeron, wake up my love.” She shifted her cheek on his bandaged chest and waited a moment before mumbling,
“Where is Verry?” Orophin smirked.
“I was about to ask the same thing, meleth nin. Where are you rooms from mine?” She smiled with her eyes closed still.
“An elf is lost? Never have I heard such a thing.” She teased him and he tickled her underarm until she opened her eyes and giggled delightfully.
“A miscalculation not to be repeated, I assure you, faril nin. Could you kindly direct me?” Sleepily, she pointed ahead of him and mumbled,
“Six or seven doors down, I think.” His brow rose intelligently.
“You think? Well, is it six or seven, Gwaeron? I cannot be waking everyone.” Her eyes slipped closed again and she murmured near incoherently,
“Mmm… six.” Orophin walked to the sixth door and managed to knock on it with his hands still thoroughly occupied. Steps whispered behind the door and in an instant he was face to face with the balrog-slayer in a large jerkin and hastily applied breeches. Silence. Glorfindel eyed the shirtless warden and slumbering damsel and crossed his arms with a knowing, yet amused, expression. Gwaeron opened her eyes long enough to peak over her shoulder at the golden elf and then tucked herself away again without a word.
“Can I help you?” Glorfindel asked smoothly and smiled as a light blush crept up Orophin’s neck to his cheeks. He cleared his throat.
“Ah, wrong door. Sorry, good eve.” He inclined his head respectfully and turned sharply to make for the next door down. Gwaeron began giggling against him and it soon turned to a quiet laugh.
“Seventh.” She squeaked out as he came up to the door and let her down. He rolled his eyes.
“Remind me never to trust you with directions again. Surely lord Glorfindel by now thinks we’ve skipped the ceremony and gone straight to the wedding night!” She covered a smile with her slender hand and composed herself, whispering to him more seriously once calmed,
“He does not. Lord Glorfindel knows you and I are too mature and sensible to forgo decorum and modesty so lightly as that. He knows we would never do anything so blatantly foolish.” Her reasoning was well founded from having known the balrog-slayer for most of her life in Rivendell, and there was nothing for Orophin to do besides roll his eyes and flush yet again. Crossing his arms he leaned heavily on the doorframe and tilted his head to look at her with a small smirk in the corner of his mouth.
“It is nearly dawn, faril nin. Go and sleep while you can. I will come for you in the morning.” She smiled at him sweetly and lifted onto her toes to kiss him softly. She opened the large wooden door as quietly as she could and slipped through it with silent steps. A gentle ‘good night’ was whispered through the crack and Orophin turned to walk to his rooms alone.
But he had yet more to do this night e’er the sun rose, and quickly he pulled on a tunic and girt himself with a belt to make his way to the stables once more. There was no stable hand to assist or hinder his progress and he found Laesneniel in a stall close to Voronwië and the elven steeds. He led the great mare out and massaged her thick muscles before mounting upon her bareback.
Motioning her down several levels of the city, Orophin mentally went over all that he needed to do and say. There was no doubt in his mind of his being permitted to marry Gwaeron, but nerves were getting the best of him all the same. He and Aragorn had come to be as close as brothers in his lifetime and each would trust the other with his life. After the war and hard times that had lasted for so long, Orophin, himself, could think of no better end than for both the King and his sister to be married and happy. A relatively alert guard attended him at the city gate and inquired respectfully,
“My lord, may I assist you?” Orophin nodded in response.
“Yes, I am going to speak with Elessar. Could you let me through?” He earned a furrowed brow and shifting in stance from the soldier and the man reasoned,
“My lord, surely the Telcontar is resting. Perhaps in the morning…” He trailed off when Orophin began to laugh and shake his head at him.
“I can assure you, the man waiting to be crowned king of a long monarch-deprived land such as this will not achieve slumber on the eve of it. But I beg you to allow me through for I am a comrade of your Elessar and my business with him is not mundane.” With a smart nod the guard relented and summoned for the smaller horse-gate to be opened and Orophin was let through.
The Pelennor was quiet as his mare picked her way through several tents and lodgings where the men lay sleeping, many simply resting on the earth outside for as nice as the evening had proved to be. Continuing on, Orophin heard amidst the silence one tune being played upon a harp and a rugged voice singing in the fair speech. The warden dismounted and led the animal onward and around a small canvas-tethered home where a fire burned and two figures sat beside it. In a moment, and before he could grasp Laesneniel’s reins tighter, Orophin felt a hard shoulder ram into his back and he was tackled forward into the light where the musicians silenced and almost at once began to laugh.
“Aiya! It is Orophin come to greet us at last, Elrohir. Release him!” Elladan arose and set aside his small harp to assist the fallen galadrim. Elrohir quickly stood and laughed himself as he offered Orophin his hand as well. With a groan he stood without any of their aid and cursed them colorfully in the woodland tongue, making his way to the frightened mare dancing anxiously in place not far from them.
“Forgive my step-brothers, Orophin, truly it was in jest.” Aragorn approached him and gained a smile from the hurt elf before embracing him heartily. Orophin groaned once more.
“Last you saw me I was dying, my brother. Even one saved from death must needs recover.” Aragorn let off and the twins shared the same expression of a confused frown. Orophin waved them off and sat stiffly on the bare earth close to the fire where Aragorn sat at his side.
“Last I saw you I had not known your injuries to be so severe, my friend. Is that why you left so suddenly with Rúmil?” Orophin nodded.
“Aye, it was foolish of me to hide it for so long, and it nearly cost me my life, for I had been poisoned.” Wincing, he placed a hand over his affected shoulder wound.
“How did my sister react to you?” The ranger inquired carefully and Orophin significantly relaxed at her mention.
“Gwaeron was thankful that I had lived at all. She has been caring for me these months, and very well, I would add. In fact she is the reason I come to you this night, Aragorn.” The Dúnedain tilted his head curiously and beckoned Orophin to continue.
“For nigh on sixty years I have loved your sister, my friend and, were it not for the objection I felt she carried against binding to one of the Firstborn, I would have done this a fortnight after meeting her. Have I your permission to make Gwaeron my life-mate and wife?” A wide grin had been building upon Aragorn’s face throughout his speech, but now it erupted into a laugh of pure joy as he clasped arms with the fair-haired elf soon to be his brother.
“No man could take more of my sister’s heart than she has already given you, my brother. Truly, you deserve her.” Aragorn consented gladly and was pulled into a firm embrace of quaking laughter. The group celebrated and congratulated until sunrise. At last Orophin dragged himself away in remembrance of promising to come to his huntress in the morning.
“Surely you will want the ceremony to be as soon as possible.” Aragorn offered as he walked him to his horse. Orophin nodded.
“At your earliest convenience; it need not be a large ceremony. Indeed, I believe Véredhiel has risen enough suspicion as it is than for us to publicly announce that we have an illegitimate child, though a farce it would be.” He rubbed his bearded jaw in thought and agreed with Orophin that it would not be wise.
“I feel the same, the people would hardly believe the truth of the matter if they caught sight of the child. She could be no one’s daughter but yours and my sister’s, that much is certain.” Orophin mounted his tall mare with a grimace and settled on her back as Aragorn laid a hand on his leg in assurance.
“Tomorrow night, then, we shall have a small ceremony for you. Gandalf can do the honors of binding you, unless you desire my step-father to do so.” Orophin sighed.
“I do not think lord Elrond has approved of me completely just yet, my friend. I would not force him into that and Mithrandir, I know, would be glad to bind us. I thank you, my friend.” Aragorn nodded with a smile and clapped his knee.
“I look forward to having you as my brother at last, Orophin. I will see you soon.” With a nod Orophin trotted off to the gleaming city and yelled back to the ranger,
“Next I see you, you will be Elessar Telcontar! Till then, my king!”
Ceana woke Gwaeron that morning much earlier than she would have liked but there was much to be done in preparation for the day. Two seamstresses arrived just after she had broken her fast and draped the loveliest silk chemise of pearly cream and gathered sleeves on her with a deep blue velvet skirt and matching bodice on top. Once ensured that the fit was near perfect, the ladies set to work embroidering silver leaves and tiny jewels into her bodice and matching designs at her request for Véredhiel’s linen baby-gown.
Ceana teased and fussed over Gwaeron’s deep auburn hair but at last contented herself by braiding satin ribbons the same color as the chemise on either side of her head so that the mass of curls cascaded down her back. The lady ranger broke free from her eager ladies-in-waiting long enough to bathe her daughter and freshen her own face. Elbereth only knew what the women would have made her up to look like with their creams and powders.
Once outfitted and given a set of dyed blue slippers, Ceana came forth and held out to her mistress a beautiful, but simple, mithril circlet.
“My lady, master Elrond bade me give you this, only this morning. He said your father was the king of the Dúnedain and that you are his princess.” Gwaeron took the tiara carefully and smiled at it, moving over to the looking glass as she set it on her head. The metal fit her perfectly and rested just above her brow to highlight the clear gleam in her eyes.
“La la la, mamanananama…” Véredhiel drew her mother’s attention as she crawled uncomfortably in the long gown given to her. Gwaeron knelt down, picked her up and bounced her on one hip with a laugh.
“How do we look, Verry? Are you ready to see your uncle?” Verry grinned a toothless smile and clapped her hands as a knock sounded from the door. Ceana went to answer it while her mistress played happily with her daughter as they waited.
Orophin was led into Gwaeron’s chambers and upon seeing his faril could not resist but just to stop and stare at the beautiful creature before him. She looked every bit the royalty allotted to her family but with the added charm of a gloriously happy woman. At last when she looked at him she, also, paused to admire her betrothed in his deep burgundy red and black tunic, black leather breeches, and captivating blonde tresses that hung low around his face and over his chest.
Stepping at once to her, he reached for her hand and kissed it with a new tenderness. Véredhiel lay quietly cozied against her mama’s shoulder while Gwaeron’s gaze locked with the elf she loved.
“Would you do me the honor, my princess, of letting me escort you this day?” Ceana giggled in a hushed voice to one side of the couple and Verry looked over to her and waved innocently with a gummy smile, earning the maidservant’s wave in return.
The wonderfully deep lilt in Orophin’s voice distracted Gwaeron for several moments until she registered what was actually spoken and inclined her head regally.
“I would have no other, orod nin.” Smoothly, he took her hand in the crook of his arm and led her slowly to the door. As they walked through the many halls Gwaeron looked on happily at the numerous banners and garlands draped and positioned just so on every mantle and sconce. Eventually, she thought of this and decided to ask Orophin subtly,
“How do you know your way already? Was it not only last eve when we could not find my own rooms without mishap?” She sent him a sly smile and he rolled his crystal blue eyes humorlessly though his grin reached her momentarily.
“I was not idle while away from you faril nin, and this morning I have been on the ceremony grounds while waiting for your ready. A good many of your friends are here and wish to see you.” She smiled and shrugged in attempt to lessen her jitters. Their progress was not terribly fast, as Orophin did not want to stress his leg wounds by overdoing it so early in the day. A moment passed before he stopped and leaned toward her a little, holding his fingers out for Verry to grasp.
“I went to your brother last night.” He mentioned by the by and his eyes glanced to her face as he smiled in forewarning of good news.
“You and I shall be bound tomorrow night. Aragorn approved for us to have a small ceremony spoken by Mithrandir.” Gwaeron turned to him fully and threw her available arm around his neck tightly, squealing quietly in delight.
“Oh I’ll never be able to contain so much joy, Orophin. It’s really happening!” He laughed at her excitement and joined her in it as he teased,
“Did you not believe that it would, faril nin?”
“Of course I knew it would, it is just so suddenly very close when we have waited for so long…” Véredhiel played contentedly with Gwaeron’s loose curls as her Ada finally stole a kiss from her radiant Mother.