We've been rambling all the night

[elessar]

WHO: Aragorn, NPCs
WHAT: A representative of the Court of Stars meets with the Elves of Alvheim.
WHERE: Alvheim, the Realm of the Elves.
WHEN: Backdated to after his audience with the Emperor.
WARNINGS: political themes, subtle fantasy discrimination.

" I turn my gaze to the West, to lands rarely charted by mortal men. There you will represent my decree to the Elves of Alvheim. Gain their compliance, gain their loyalty, but do not overstep your boundaries.

You will be watched by many eyes."

Beneath the towering trees, under the shade of their bright green canopy lies Alvheim. It's almost fitting that the Emperor would send someone so closely tied with the Elves as their representative. This mission came as a surprise for Aragorn since the ranger is more used to less diplomatic tasks. He's a warrior, a man who've seen his fair share of carnage throughout the years. While he's appreciative of this momentary reprieve, Aragorn walks with trepidation as he follows his elven guide, Aerlindel.

The Elves of Alvheim are quite strict. They welcome all who wish to visit their city, but newcomers aren't allowed to travel freely. Even with the Emperor's blessing, Aragorn couldn't bypass that unwritten rule. His guide is a courteous soul, despite the telltale stoicism of the elves. They only speak when spoken to and answer only the most important questions while skillfully deflecting all attempts at conversation. While they seem welcoming enough, Aragorn couldn't help but notice how his guide kept a healthy distance from him. They would stand off towards the side whenever Aragorn halts to admire their city and briskly walk five paces ahead. The guide's behavior reminded Aragorn too much of the distance between Elf and Man.

The years he spent in Imladris resurfaced to haunt him as he explored Alvheim. Even as Estel, Aragorn fell prey to the aloof coldness of the Elves. Many didn't know of his lineage or his link to them. Elrond withheld his identity from all, except for kin. While they obliged Elrond's wishes, many did question his decision. Still, their aloofness is nothing in comparison to the austere demeanor of Alvheim.

His meeting with the council was unproductive at best. The elven elders of their high council permit him to speak, but all of his words fell upon deaf ears. " Alvheim is eternal," they boast without much bluster other than their raised voices. " Even if the world was to tremble beneath the weight of this war, Alvheim will remain unbothered by the swaying." They believe themselves to be just as eternal as the skies above. None of them expressed much interest in Aragorn, and they showed even less when he mentioned the Emperor's decree. Having his full of failure, Aragorn ventures out of the city by nightfall. It's against their law to allow outsiders to reside within their grand city, and Aragorn had to make do with the bedroll and supplies he brought with him.

Under the stars within the vale, Aragorn lies awake during his first night here. How curious it is to glance up at the night sky and not recognize a single star. Aragorn couldn't stop the strange longing that stirs within as he searches for the Evenstar. So far from home, so far from all he knows, Aragorn lies awake as he tries to memorize this new sky. He mentally connects the twinkling stars with an invisible line, his eyes drawing shapes where there are none. Eventually, he finds slumber within this peaceful valley, his eyes drawing closed as the song of crickets lull him to sleep.

The tranquility of night is only ruined by the return of the first rays of sunlight. Aragorn is blessed to experience peace after such a demoralizing day, but he refused to leave Alvheim just yet. He returned to the city gates much to the surprise of the guards. The same guide from yesterday returns and greets Aragorn a second time.

Instead of seeking an audience with the council again, Aragorn favors exploration. None of this comes as a surprise for his guide. He ventures into the marketplace, his eyes briefly browsing the wares on sale. Too much of this realm reminds Aragorn of Imladris, but certain aspects of Alvheim remind Aragorn more of Lórien. Lothlórien is the largest stronghold of Elvenkind within Middle-Earth, a sacred bastion hidden within a thick forest. Alvheim is no different, but they're notably a bit friendlier towards outsiders than that of Lórien. Aragorn's thoughts stray some as he walks with his guide following close behind him. Despite all of the challenges he faced in Imladris, nothing prepared Aragorn for the battle at Helm's Deep. Never did he think that the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien would permit the Galadhrim to march to Rohan during their hour of need. It was a scene worthy of a thousand tales, the Galadhrim all tall and valiant in their golden armor.

While the Elves Alvheim feint disinterest, Aragorn cannot help but wonder if they will move to action if the threat of war becomes too great. Such is possible, but not as long as they remain so removed from the conflict. War has yet to trample through these lands and leave its foul mark upon them. The Elves probably couldn't remember the last time they fought a war, their memories eroded with time. As eternal they are, Aragorn knows their eternity grants them a hubris that seldom can afford. This is why he plans to speak to them for a second time in hopes of appealing their sense of pride. Are the Elves truly so content to linger within the shadows as men rule the world? A dangerous notion, but at least it would give them food for thought. While he's uncertain if his persistence will play off, Aragorn is willing to dwell here in Alvheim until the task is completed.

Elves can be stubborn, but so are men.

His thoughts stray once he comes across a couple of vendors sporting food and drink. There's no famine here. The Elves seem well-stocked in food and supplies, a fact that almost baffles Aragorn. Maybe he ought to question the council regarding their plentiful bounty. The other provinces nearby aren't as blessed as fair Alvheim, a curiosity that is worth discussion. Perhaps the Elves of Alvheim already sold their allegiance to the Priestess, or perhaps they really are that blessed. Nevertheless, Aragorn will find his answers eventually.

Continuing his outing within the city proper, Aragorn catches a glimpse of something golden falling from above. It was a leaf, a golden leaf that shimmered brightly within the afternoon sun. Aragorn held out his palm and caught it once the breeze faltered. The shimmering leaf glittered brightly like a jewel, it's beauty only rival to the sun itself. As he gazed upon this leaf, Aragorn's eyes slowly widen in shock.

"Not idly does the leaves of Lorien fall," He mutters as he glances up, his eyes wide with shock.

Before him stands the tallest trees that ever stood in all of Arda. "The mellyrn," He whispers with such reverence. The change in his demeanor wins a curious glance from his guide, prompting them to come nearer. Utterly entranced by the silver-grey bark of these wonderfully tall trees, Aragorn almost forgot to breathe. Autumn must be drawing near if the leaves have lost their lustrous green hue. The mellyrn are known to stay golden throughout autumn into the long winter. Only in spring do they sprout new green leaves that have hints of silver within their shade. Such beauty was said to only exist within Valinor before being gifted to the ancient Númenóreans by the Elves of Tol Eressëa. So imagine his shock to see the silver-grey bark of these illustrious trees in full golden bloom. If it hasn't been for his stay in Lorien many years ago, Aragorn would've thought he stepped into a dream.

He turns to his guide with a look of pure wonder. This marks the first time that Aragorn and his guide speak. The Elf talks proudly about the leaves of these beautiful trees, and Aragorn tells him all the stories he heard about the beauty of Valinor. He explains their origins with sage-like knowledge, all thanks to his time spent in Lord Elrond's court. It's through the song of conversation that they laugh and share stories. The guide's stoic demeanor fades some as they speak with the ranger. Their icy stare becomes warmer and their impassive expression suddenly changes. So overwhelmed with his discovery, Aragorn mentions his time in Lothlórien and how he came to know of these trees. The guide says nothing but listens intently to every word, their eyes wide in surprise. A human who lived among elves? Such a curious thing is virtually unheard of but the guide doesn't dare question it. If anything, his interest grew in Aragorn as they walk together as equals.

By the time the sunsets, Aragorn feels a bit more confident about his task. While gaining the allegiance of the elves will be quite difficult, he's at least confident he can achieve it. Unlike the first night he spent within the open pastures of the vale, Aragorn sleeps a bit easier than before. The sparkling gleam of the stars above watch in anticipation as the dawn is heralded by the song of birds. This will be Aragorn's final day here, his last venture into Alvheim.

He's expected by the guards this time and eagerly welcomed by his guide. The two share pleasantries and for the first time, Aragorn greets him in Elvish. This surprises the guide, his eyes lit with wonder. They stroll almost leisurely through Alvheim, their conversation light but polite. Aragorn expresses his discontent with the council's decision, but sparingly in between friendly discussion. The guide shows him sympathy, their gaze cast low. While the council feels as if Alvheim has no place within this war, others disagree.

As eternal as the elves are, they are still citizens of this realm.

Aragorn's third stay within Alvheim is almost bittersweet. While he had ultimately failed in his task to appeal to their governance, he ends up making a friend out of the guide. They spend the latter portion of the afternoon conversing over food and drink. It seems that all of Aragorn's stories about his homeland struck a chord with Aelrindel. They're utterly fascinated with his world, quick to pelt the ranger with questions regarding the elves and their ties with ancient Valinor. It's a subject that is quite vast, something that would warrant a fourth visit.

Before the day ends, Aerlindel offers Aragorn a fine gift made of expensive linen and silk. It's too fine of a gift for someone like him, but the elf insists. After listening to all of the tales about fair Arda, Aerlindel felt obligated to show their appreciation. So without much hesitance after some gentle coaxing, Aragorn graciously accepts the gift with a bow. It seems that the elves of Alvheim are quite hospitable once you get to know them. While their stance upon the war is rather unfavorable, Aragorn can at least tell they're willing to stay neutral. He doubts that the elves will offer their allegiance to anyone. While they're not an enemy of the crown, Aragorn will certainly volunteer to keep a watch on things in Alvheim.

Besides, he did promise he would visit them again.

word count: 1,865 words