Chapter Text
“Halt,” the voice cried. Aragorn sighed. What on Middle Earth was wrong this time? He rode to the front, Legolas and Gimli following him. The guard was standing in front of a young girl, no older than 15 or 16, with his spear pointed straight at her, and yet she didn’t look afraid. She was too covered in muck for him to see her face, and her hair was pulled up into a dark green mob cab. She was dressed in shabby clothes, a stained white shirt covered by a brown leather waistcoat and a brown suede skirt which was too big for her. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, and she appeared to be drowning under a brown shawl. She was riding an all-black horse which tossed his head and stared at the guards spear in anger.
“State your name and purpose,” the guard barked.
“I am Carlotta Dariston, daughter of Charlotte Dariston, a Blacksmith’s wife.” Her voice was high and smooth.
“And your purpose?” Aragorn asked. The girl looked at him, her eyes a deep violet.
“What is anybody’s purpose here? I wish to take refuge at Helm’s Deep, same as the rest of you.” The girl paused. “Truth be told I am running from my husband-to-be. I was sold to him for a heavy price, but he is not the nicest of gentlemen” She said, her voice full of bitter.
“You should go back to him,” The guard advised. The girl turned to him.
“I think not, Sir.”
“You may join us,” Aragorn cut in, “But if you have been rightfully sold, if your husband comes to reclaim you we cannot protect you,” The girl twisted her horse to face Aragorn.
“Husband-to-be,” She corrected. A curl fell from her mobcap and Aragorn noticed it’s colour. It was a rich blue, a turquoise blue. His suspicion’s deepened, and as the party continued he sought her out. Once they were riding side by side, and he was sure they could not be overheard, he turned to her.
“Who are you really ‘Carlotta Dariston, daughter of Charlotte Dariston’,” He asked. The girl stared straight ahead.
“What makes you think I am lying?”
“Your hair, it’s most unusual wouldn’t you agree?” The girl cursed under her breath. She paused for a while, and Aragorn did not push her.
“No one can know,” she whispered.
“You have my word,” He agreed. She looked left and right before removing her mob cap and letting lose her mass of lazy turquoise ringlets.
“I am Arraläya, daughter of Aralanna. Princess Arraläya SymIr, of the Dyṃärri,” Aragorn tried not to stare at her in disbelief.
“Since when have the Dyṃärri lived out of water,”
“Dyṃär have often ventured outside of the sea. It takes a simple spell, and you have legs for as long as you need them. Of course, there are some Dyṃär traits that never truly leave us, the hair for example. The eyes. The smell of the ocean, and we can never be away from it for too long. But as far as disguises go, it’s fairly efficient,” Aragorn suddenly remembered something.
“And what is your real purpose?” The Princess visibly shuddered.
“Now that I did not lie about,”
“Why have the Dyṃärri taken to selling their Princess’?” He asked.
“They had no choice. My father was being punished, for leaving the hidden waters unguarded. The Sea Witch gave him a choice. Sell one of his daughters, or surrender the hidden waters and release it from the undersea kingdom. He has nine daughters you know, he could afford to lose one. I am the eldest, I volunteered myself. Edvark Willingthorn seemed nice enough, and he offered my father a handsome sum for his daughter. It completely lavished my kingdom with untold riches, and it saved the hidden waters, which is I suppose what counts. But I could not stay with him for a day longer. Turns out he wasn’t the nice gentlemen he seemed to be, and I’d like to see anyone try and stay content with being locked in a room for 23 hours a day,” She sounded bitter, but also frightened.
“It seems you have fallen upon hard times,”
“So it would seem,” She agreed drily. “Still, I am alive. And for now at least I am free,” Aragorn watched her shoulders droop again. “You won’t reveal me, will you?”
“There are two with me, an Elf and a Dwarf. I shall confide in them, but they shall tell no one, we shall tell no one,” And he reached out his hand, took hers and kissed her trident ring. “And I swear to you, Princess Arraläya SymIr of the Dyṃärri, I shall protect you from your husband, should he show up,” The princess had tears in her eyes when she looked up at him.
“Thank you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” She replied gracefully. Aragorn just began to wonder how she knew his name when he caught her mouthing ‘Husband-to-be,’