Departing from the White City

It was raining the day I left. The sky was overcast and grey, while thunder rolled in the distance. I was still rather unsure of my task, I knew it wouldn’t please my father, but it had to be done.

Faramir and Rowan saw me off, both accompanying me to the gates. Time did not permit for a long goodbye, but I made sure Faramir promised to stay out of trouble and take care of father. He did not want to watch me leave, and rode off back up to the Citadel. I understood, he had always hated goodbyes. But Rowan remained. The streets were empty and we were the only two living souls in sight. The rain was falling harder now and her raven hair was plastered to her face and her wet cloak conformed to her slender waist. Though soaked, she was beautiful, she always would be.

“Must you go?” she asked of me. I nodded. She knew she could not keep me from my will. She clasped my hand in hers and slipped a ring into my palm. The band silver, and the stone blue, the same blue as her eyes. “My love will protect you,” were her last words to me. I bent down from my saddle and gave her one last kiss before galloping out of the gate.

I glanced back at Rowan. She still stood in the gateway, staring after me. I raised my hand in farewell, but she turned away and vanished into the city. It broke my heart to leave her. We had hoped to marry soon. Live happily for the rest of our lives, but it was not to be. Those dreams were ripped from our grasp as we were torn apart by this task of mine. This task that may be my end…

Namárië to Mirkwood

I felt I had to go. It was my duty after all. It was indeed partly my fault that Gollum had escaped, as it was my duty and my brother’s to guard him. I felt I had failed and now I must seek penance. My father had wished my older brother to go, but I insisted, for it was my burden to bear. He had also wished me to travel with an escort, but I refused. There were too few soldiers as it was, we could not spare more. I would rather keep my home safe than myself. He disliked the notion, but consented, seeing that I would not back down.

My whole family came out to wish me farewell. My father, dressed in royal robes, and my mother in queenly splendor, but my eldest brother wore a tunic of simple grey.

“I see no reason to dress lavishly toron*. We may never see you again and where is the celebration in that?” His blunt words shocked me. My young mind had not thought of what should happen if I never returned. The roads to Imladris were long and treacherous, but I had a swift horse, my bow and knives, and I assured myself I would be all right. Just as I was about to leave, my youngest sister, Gwestiel, ran into my arms. Still a small child, she looked up at me with her huge blue eyes and asked,

“Will you come back tomorrow?” in a small voice that melted my heart. I hugged her tightly.

“I wish titta ornor*. But I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“When is that?” she demanded, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I don’t know, little one,” I whispered. Tears came to her eyes and she clenched her hands in fists. I tried to console her, but she would not be comforted.

“I don’t want you to go!” she cried, tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

“I know. But I must.” I kissed her forehead and set her down, but she clung to me. My mother fetched her up, still crying.

“Nai i Valar nauvar as elyë,* my son,” she whispered. Without another word I mounted and rode away, not daring to look back for fear I would lose my nerve.

*toron – brother
*titta ornor – little sister
*Nai i Valar nauvar as elyë – May the Valar be with you
*Namarie – farewell

Leaving Erebor

Someone had to go to see that the dwarves were fairly treated in the matter. No pointy-eared elfling or man was going to over-voice the dwarves. My father asked me to accompany him on this little wandering of ours. Since he had traveled far before, King Dain II wished he go Rivendell and voice his concerns at some great council that was to be held there. There had been a mysterious stranger prowling around, asking about halflings, and we dwarves were getting concerned. The king presented me with a new walking axe, a very good one indeed, and a new mail shirt. My father received the same.

A few of the lads came to see us off at the borders.

“Ye be lucky, ye get to get out o’these mines!” my friend Burin joked with a firm handshake. “Shall miss ye lad. Watch ye’reself, them roads not be a walk in the roses.”

“Aye,” chimed in Gwalin. “But ye’ll get there all right I shouldn’t wonder. That new axe would kill an orc just to look at it. But don’t let ’em sneak up on ye.”

“Nay, shan’t be any bit of problem as long as I’m away from you two, ye two would wake the dead with ye’r jib-jabberin!” I retorted laughing.

“Och, lads, cut it out or we’ll miss the council entirely!” my father huffed at us.

As we started down the road from the mine entrance, I realized I was actually going somewhere. I had never been very far from Erebor, but now I was to go all the way to Rivendell.

“Is this how ye started out on your grand adventure?” I asked my father. He looked thoughtful.

“Not quite, but I believe we are started out on another. This, lad, will be ye’re own grand adventure.”

Authors note: All of these started out when I began writing a fan fiction about Boromir. I like the book version of him a little better than the movie (raven hair!) so I pictured him more soft-natured than in the movies, but still with pride. Legolas I pictured as a young man, (about 19 in human years) rather zealous, but having great devotion to his family. Out of all of the three, Gimli’s story was the hardest to write, I suppose that’s why it’s a little shorter than the others. I had to do some research and ended up changing my original draft dramatically but it came out alright. I also imagined dwarves as speaking with Scottish accents and Gloin with a heavy Highland brogue, hence all the “ye’s” and the “och”.

PS: if you find any mistakes, don’t hesitate to point them out! 🙂

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