Chapter Text
The night in the tavern was everything but quiet. Dwarves, women, and even some elven maids celebrated merrily the return from a journey that had been too long for any of their likings. The ambience was lighthearted and friendly. No bar fights were going to happen on that cheerful night, that was something all of the women of every race knew, for they were too relieved and perhaps a little too drunk to occupy their mind with anything other than the warm company of their trustworthy companions.
The bar keeper, a tall man that stood above almost everyone in the room, with a ginger beard that was coming to reach his chest and a deep blue vest, sang along the human women as they spun in between tables holding each other by the arm. Songs about victory, glory, about their ancestors and about their respective homelands. Giggles and chuckles were heard in between their not-so-gracious voices. And the men, regulars at the tavern, happily joined them, not even sure of what they were celebrating. The dwarven women instead, with their long hairs and beards, stood on tables, kicked items, jumped and bounced and threw things around, laughing and celebrating like it was their last day on earth, when the truth was that their journey had only just begun.
The elven maids instead, much more reserved and less crude than their dwarf and human fellows, raised their glasses and cheered from their seats, yelling encouragingly at everyone singing, not being able to join since they weren't familiar with the human lyrics. No soul in that bar knew what sadness and loneliness felt like at the moment. It was only about them, the women of every race that had once parted from their homes, left their lives and loved ones behind and joined one another to grow. To grow as people, as soldiers. To learn from each other.
A young dwarf woman sat on a comfortable wooden chair with her heavy legs spread across the table that stood upon her. She sipped her beer, that dripped off the corner of her coloured lips and ran down her short beard and into her brown, dirty coat. Kaala, her name was. Daughter of Urhon, a humble dwarf merchant. The ones that knew him could have seen the resemblance. Her long, braided, blonde wavy hair and her intense blue eyes were screaming "Urhon" from miles away. As for her features, she was all her mother, Delicate (as a dwarf can be). That was what made her different from male dwarves. That and her voice and braid pattern. Her voice resembled her mother's as well, it was perfect to sing in her native tongue, but sadly, it seemed that the human women were having their moment, and all Kaala did was laugh and hold her beer up to the elven maids and to the woman standing next to them.
—Oi, lass! Where did you leave that beautiful dam of yours?— Kaala called out from across the tavern to Lady Cyneowe, Cyne, as they commonly referred to her. People considered "Cyneowe" to be a mouthful, which was not very far from the truth, the human lady herself was not a fan of her very own name either.
—My friend, there is no need to be raising your voice, I have not gone deaf yet. Although, I'm about to if our dear companions do not stop yelling songs that will wake up my ancestors, just to ask us to keep our voices down.— Cyne commented humourously as she approached Kaala and took a seat next to her. The young human woman still wore her armour, even if not heavy, it was still a bit of a burden to carry around, Kaala knew that well since she was still wearing hers as well, unlike the women that were dancing, she was not planning on moving from her chair, so there was no point in changing her clothes yet. —As for "my dam", as you called her,— Cyne interrupted the short silence. —She is in her room. Mela is not much of a party girl, and she is not a soldier nor a warrior, so she did not see the point in celebrating the end of our tedious training with us.—
Kaala scoffed. She enjoyed the company of Mela like everyone did. Mela possessed the empathy of a human, the grace of an elf, the curiosity of a hobbit and the passion of a dwarf. She was Lady Cyneowe's dearest friend, and rightfully so. They grew up together near the Southlands, their paths were never interlinked, but they made sure that their destinies were. Mela should have never left her home to join a group that she knew she was not gonna be a part of, but she could not bring herself to leave Cyne's side, she loved her dearly, and that kind of love overpowered the one she had for her home, her lands and even her own family. Cyneowe was not so bold with her affections as Mela was, but that did not make her cold or uncaring. She was all the opposite. Warm as a summer day and compassionate like nobody else. She loved Mela too. She was her soulbound sister. There were very few things in this world that Cyne adored more than her beloved friend, she would walk into the fires of the most candid volcano for her, and Cyne lived with the assurance that Mela would do the same for her.
A rather long and comfortable silence took over the conversation the two fellow women were having. They drank their alcohol in silence while their eyes kept focused on their friends. In the middle of all the fun, the door of the tavern opened, and silence fell in the room. The human man was tall, with a dark head and a scolding look on his face. His beard was recently shaved, it was easy to tell by the small cuts on his neck and chin and the grayish tone of his skin. He held a helmet under his arm, but he was not wearing any armour on, his clothes consisted of a dark green vest, trousers and a brown coat, similar to Kaala's, just a bit longer. His steps were heard heavy against the poorly treated wooden floor of the place, and once he reached the table across from the elven women, and took one of the beers, he raised it in the air and yelled. All the women, clients and bar keepers rapidly joined, raised their own glasses and let the silence become lively singing and screaming once again. Now it was turn for the dwarf women to sing songs of their kin, and it was the women's and the elves' turn to clap and dance in the rhythm of their singing. One of the elven maids, Syrëna, looped her arm with the man of powerful presence's and they began to dance together, spinning in circles in the makeshift dancefloor that the owner of the tavern made for them by moving the tables out of the way.
Cyne observed the scenery with a fond look in her eyes. Kaala glanced at her from the corner of her eye and the edges of her lips curled up in a soft smile. Kaala interrupted Cyne's contemplation with a soft tone of voice.
—Are you going to go back home with Mela? You have been gone for over three years, your family must be wondering where you are. Do not keep them worried, lass, you are lucky you have a family that keeps you so close to their hearts. You are their only child.— Cyne's look changed immediately from fond to uncertain. She loved her family truly, but she was not sure she could go back just yet.
—They know I am perfectly fine, Kaala.— Kaala rolled her eyes subtly.
—Do they? You are lying to them, you are. Keeping secrets. They will realise your deceiving someday, and it is not going to turn out the way you want.— Kaala scolded Cyneowe. Despite her firm words, her voice was all the opposite. She wanted to comfort Cyne, she knew the situation was not any easier for her. It took Cyne a moment to think of an appropriate answer.
—I cannot tell them the truth, Kaala, I know I must, but now it is not the time. You should know that I do not enjoy lying to my beloved father and to my ill mother, but they would not have allowed me to join you here if they knew what this was.— Kaala nodded. She knew this conversation was over by the moment she started it. Cyne was too stubborn to listen to anyone but herself. Kaala knew it was going to backfire, but so did Cyne, she knew that much.
The strange man approached their table, and both women, Cyne and Kaala, bowed their heads. The man smiled and bowed his head upon them too. He placed a hand on Cyne's head and ruffed her longish, dark, wavy hair, her curls were already disappearing because of the lack of care Cyneowe gave to them, not that it mattered at the time.
—Tired, my Lady?— The man spoke as he grabbed a chair and sat in the middle of them.
—No, Lord Ahlnor, just thinking.— Cyne replied loudly so her voice could be heard above all the noise.
—Well, we cannot have none of that thinking, Cyne! You must have fun, you have earned it! You both have!— Kaala chuckled and drank her beer in just one breath, making the other dwarves cheer. She winked at her companions, bowed her head to Cyne and Ahlnor and left them to go and have her own share of fun. Cyne chuckled and kept here eyes on Kaala until Ahlnor made her snap out of it.
—There is a rather strange man at the corner. Glance subtly.— Cyne stiffened and turned her head, pretending to be looking at her friends and glanced at the man that Ahlnor was referring to. There was an old man, with a pointy hat and a long, gray beard. Cyne turned back to her lord.
—I do not understand, what is strange about that man?—. She asked.
—Nothing strange about his appearance there is, it is the things I have heard him talk about that got my attention.— That picked Cyne's interest. She leaned closer to Ahlnor, inviting him to elaborate.
—I heard him speak about a quest, to retake Erebor.— Cyne scoffed, mumbling "crazy old man" under her breath.
—Trying would bring nothing but calamity. But as far as we are concerned, one old man will not retake an entire city from Smaug, no one would be so foolish to try. You worry for nothing, my friend.— Ahlnor nodded but looked at the old man again.
—It is still strange.— He added.
—That it is.— Cyne agreed. A drinking contest was being had just behind the pair. Cyne looked over her shoulder, seeing that Kaala and Kaelith were the two contestants. A heartfelt laugh left her throat as she observed how Kaelith was trying to keep up with Kaala's velocity (and impressive ability) in drinking. The elves from Kaelith side were cheering for her as the dwarves cheered for Kaala, who won the competition almost effortlessly. Ahlnor chuckled and shook his head with amusement. As Kaelith stood up, she tripped over her own feet and almost fell to the floor, if she had not grabbed the edge of the table to support her weight up. Cyneowe snickered and smirked at her friend's face. Kaelith gave her a challenging look and pointed to Kaala.
—If you find it so amusing, then show me how it is done, my Lady!— She yelled with no malice intended. Cyne raised her eyebrow and stood up from her chair.
—All right, elf, observe carefully with your sharp eyes, or you might fall again next time.— The women around clapped as Cyne sat across from Kaala and grabbed a big glass of beer. At the count of three of the crowd, both of them started drinking as many beers as they could. Kaala was faster, but Cyne had more resistance to alcohol, which gave her a slight advantage since it was not a race, as Kaala was treating it. After seven beers, Kaala raised her hands in defeat and one of the elves grabbed Cyne's arm and brought it to the air to show the winner. Once again, everyone yelled happily. Kaala shook Cyne's hand.
—Well done, my Lady, well done.— Cyne bowed her head and winked at Kaala. Soon Ahlnor took Cyne's place and another contest started between him and two dwarves. The alcohol started getting to Cyne's head, and she moved to a quieter place at the bar, choosing to sit on a booth across from the counter, just next to a customer. Drunken Cyneowe was not as subtle as sober Cyneowe, and she eyed the man next to her up and down. The tavern was located in a rather low area of Middle-Earth, the person next to her did not look like he was from the area at all. He wore dark red robes with a golden outline, his hair was long, longer than her own, and straight, but the weirdest thing is that it was clean. His skin was pale, untouched by the harsh sun, so he was not a soldier of any sort, and if he was, he must have been elven. He obviously noticed Cyne looking at him with curiosity, and after shifting awkwardly under her gaze several times, he decided to speak up. —May I help you, my Lady?— It took Cyneowe several seconds to answer, as for she was still busy analysing his looks.
—You are not from around here, are you?— She asked bluntly, and he sighed.
—I am not. But I fail to see how that is any of your concern, my Lady.— Cyne raised her hands in mock defense and turned around in her booth.
—Excuse me.— She spoke almost tiredly. The man shook his head and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.
—No trouble,— It was clear by his tone that he had something to say, but he seemed hesitant to do so, until he finally did, —I am looking for the leader of a training fellowship. My Lord is interested in talking to him. You must know him, right?— Cyne gave it a thought. Of course she knew her own leader, it was Ahlnor, who was practically like a brother to her, she knew exactly who the elven man was talking about, but she would never give her friend's name away without knowing who she was speaking to.
—That depends, I might know him, or I might not. Who is asking?— She interrogated.
—Lindir of Rivendell, my Lady.— Her eyes widened. She nodded her head and glanced back at Ahlnor.
—Ahlnor is the man you are looking for. But if you cause him any trouble, you will have an army of women of every race after you.— She threatened, pointing a finger directly at Lindir's face, who scooted back and nodded his head.
—That will not be necessary.— Lindir Assured and Cyneowe stood up from her booth, pointed at Ahlnor and headed out of the tavern and towards her room, that was just across from the place. She was not interested in any business the men had to discuss, if it was something important, Ahlnor would share it with her when the time came. For now, it was time for her to retire, because she was no dwarf and the headache induced by the alcohol was making itself be heard. Cyneowe walked inside her room quietly and started to take off her armour, which was getting too warm even on such a cold night. Behind her, a woman laid on her bed, her brunette hair that rested over her purple robes was long enough to cover almost her whole body. That was the most beautiful human woman ever seen in Middle-Earth, at least that Cyne had ever laid her eyes upon, that was Mela. She laid awake but in silence, a sign that she did not want to have a conversation. Cyne was now wearing her nightgown, and she slowly approached the bed with a navy blue blanket held between her arms. She softly covered Mela's resting form with it and kissed the crown of her head. No words were shared that night. They were not needed yet.
Meanwhile, Alhnor, still inside the bar and talking with two other women, felt someone standing just behind his chair. As he turned around, he saw Lindir, waiting for him to finish his conversation with the two ladies.
—Can I do something for you?— Alhnor asked. He did not stand up to meet Lindir's height. Such formalities in such a warm and familiar environment seemed unnecessary to the simple man.
—Yes, you can. I come from Rivendell, looking for Lord Ahlnor. A young human woman told me that was you.— Lindir replied simply. Alhnor turned to the women he was talking to, and asked them politely to retire to other tables so that him and Lindir could discuss whatever the elf came to discuss.
—Please, take a seat. Can I offer you a beer? But I must know your name first, travel. For I do not offer my time and money to strangers.—
Lindir sat across from Alhnor and shook his head politely.
—Thank you for your offer, but I must decline. As for my name, it is Lindir. I believe you know my Lord, Elrond.— As Lindir spoke, Alhnor pretended to think. He had met Elrond a decade back. After all, some of the women that accompanied him were elven maids from Rivendell, and he had passed by the beautiful realm a couple of times.
—Ah, yes, I believe I have met Lord Elrond before. Briefly. Seems unusual that he would seek me.— The man replied.
Lindir shifted in the uncomfortable, broken chair and rested his hands on his lap.
—Unusual as it is, I am here for a reason. You see, Lord Alhnor, we have had peace for over four hundred years, but we fear that peace is coming to an end.— Lindir whispered loud enough to be heard above the noise. —Cities and towns neighbour to us have been attacked by Orcs. We cannot ignore the call for help of the people.— Alhnor shook his head, with a hint of irritation. He tried to stay polite, he was not a savage man, but the words of Lindir angered him.
—Forgive me, but, does Rivendell not have its own army? Must you come bother my fellows, who have just ended their very harsh training. They were training for almost four years, without rest. You cannot borrow these women as if exchangeable objects they were.— His tone of voice was collected, but his expression reflected his emotions. Lindir sighed and looked at the man with a pleading expression.
—Lord Alhnor, you must listen. I do not need all your fellows. The Orcs are not any stronger than they were centuries ago, and Sauron is no longer. We just need your strongest soldiers to manage the situation. It will not take long, I assure you.—
Alhnor raised his arms, now fully showing his annoyance.
—Are elves now too worthy for them to be sent to battle that you require my women?— Despite his words, Alhnor had already in mind who to send. And seeing Lindir's helpless expression, he took a deep breath and spoke with a calmer voice. —Lady Cyneowe is the best one. And she will gladly offer her service to Lord Elrond. But you must know, wherever she goes, Mela follows. Mela is not a warrior, but she is the best healer I have ever met.— Lindir nodded and Alhnor looked around himself. He pointed at Kaala, asleep on top of a table with a beer in her grasp. —Kaala. She is strong and fierce. Her and Cyneowe work well together. And Kaelith, she is fast, and her and Mela together can heal an entire town in no time.—
Lindir followed the women with his gaze, but could not spot Cyneowe and Mela. —Where is Lady Cyneowe?—
—Cyne has already retired to her room. She won a drinking contest. She was sitting at the counter before leaving, maybe you saw her.—
The elf raised his eyebrow and nodded his head. —Yes, I might have. A young human woman with long, dark, wavy locks, amber eyes and wearing a black armour.— Alhnor nodded. —She is a Lady?—
The man chuckled and nodded his head enthusiastically.
—Well, yes! Lady Cyneowe of Danminhar! She comes from a very rich family...well, now she does. Her husband is a very rich man. I have not seen her with him ever. He was not there when she parted, years ago. Only Mela and her father were. But well! It seems like a complicated marriage, but she only speaks wonders of him!—
Lindir had not asked for any of that extra information, but Alhnor was drunk and spilling everything out by now. He found a way to interrupt his blabbering by asking a serious question. —When can the ladies leave? I hope it is as soon as possible—
Alhnor shrugged. —Go speak to Cyne. She must be awake still. Tell her I sent you there. Room eight.—
Lindir bowed his head and left the tavern. He had the feeling that the talk with Cyne was not gonna go as smoothly as he hoped. Thankfully, he was wrong.
Mela opened the door after hearing the soft knocking on it. When she saw the elf, she immediately called Cyne, who was standing nearby. Mela sat on the bed as Lindir was welcomed into the room. He bowed his head to both of them, a gesture that they returned politely. Mela offered Lindir a tea and Cyne offered him a seat. As Alhnor had predicted, Cyneowe did not oppose going to Rivendell, and Mela (as predicted too), stated that she was going to tag along under all circumstances. Since it was the end of their training, they agreed that they would leave for Rivendell in a week. There was no point in Lindir staying there with them through all the wait, so he would have left in the morning. Mela, the most careful one, kept asking questions to know more about the task ahead and about the safety of it out of care for her friend's life (and her own). It did not seem complicated for women like Cyneowe, Kaala and Kaelith, who were more courageous than any human, dwarf or elf she has ever met. After that, Lindir left the room and Mela and Cyne were alone once again.
—You should not accompany me. You should go back to Danminhar. Your family is waiting for you.— Cyne spoke.
Mela just offered her a scolding look. It was not worth the argument. She was coming along like she always has. They both sat next to each other and Mela placed her hand on Cyne's shoulder and rubbed it with her thumb. —I am aware of what you are thinking. No need to say it.— She murmured, changing the subject.
—Your husband cannot keep lying for you, Cyne. If your father finds out...—
Cyne sighed and placed her hand on top of Mela's. —He will not. I am lying for my husband too. I will return to Danminhar when this task is over.—
Mela looked down. —And then you will leave again.—
Cyneowe's mouth twitched. She thought of what to say while she squeezed Mela's hand. —Do not think like that, my friend. Every time I part, I will always come back. You above everyone else should know that.—
Mela scooted to Cyne closer with her chair and rested her head on her shoulder. Cyne returned the gesture by resting her own head on top of Mela's.
—Do not worry, Mela.— She whispered.
The next week was like the first day. Drinking, dancing, talking and singing. The tired women were now not so tired anymore, and the four ones that had to part, instead of celebrating until the late hours of the night, invested their time in sleeping and assured to be well fed and hydrated for the journey that expected them.
The last night before the journey. The whole fellowship decided to reunite in the same tavern where they spent all the previous week, but instead of partying, they would sit and talk and drink with tranquility. They started by discussing about Rivendell and then the conversation became animated storytelling.
—I have never seen an elf before I joined you!— Exclaimed Syrëna with a big grin on her face. Everyone at the long table laughed, and she looked at them with confusion.
—But, my dear Syrëna, you are an elf yourself!— Alhnor said between laughs. And Syrëna joined them soon.
—Oh, how little you know me, my Lord! You sit before an elf raised by mankind! Two centuries ago, a dear family took me in, and I have been living with that family until I parted! That lovely couple is resting now, but I am still the family of their great-grandchildren! After all these years, that family still takes care of me.— After Syrëna's explanation, their laughed dissolved and they awed at the adorable story.
—So they passed you down to their generations, like a turtle.— Cyne broke the tender moment and the laughter rose again, this time including Syrëna. The subject kept changing, there were a lot of things to talk about before their departure, and all the words and questions were all spoken at the same time.
—Cyne, what about your family? And your husband? You never talk about them!— A woman, Letali, asked, and all heads turned to Cyneowe for an answer.
—There is not much to know, I fear. My good father, Danmor is a rather simple man, a librarian. And my beautiful mother, Töle, she has never worked in her whole life. Unless you think that being a mother of two girls is a job, I think it is, I would not do it.— They laughed.— As for my husband. Well, he is a dear friend of mine, Thleno is his name. He comes from a wealthy family, that is why we married. It is no secret. But that does not stop me from holding him close to my heart. He is very dear to me. And I am excited to see him again once I return to Danminhar.— She nodded.
—Is it true that the common tongue is not spoken in Danminhar?— Someone asked.
—It is true.— Alhnor replied, and Cyne kept talking.
—Danminhar is a land founded by Elf and Men. Born from an old alliance that now no longer exists. The only tongue that was first spoken in Danminhar was Elvish, but after the elves started to leave, the Men development their own language, my tongue, Damnir. Very few people speak the common tongue, only the most educated. My own mother does not speak it. It is so far from all the other lands that it was unnecessary to learn. My father taught me how to speak it.—
Mela, who was sitting next to Cyne, added her own fact.
—All names in Danminhar mean something. Names are considered sacred, holy. They are what people respond to. The name your parents give you will shape you.—
—Mela means "sweetness."— Cyne said.—And Cyneowe means "daughter of the unknown."—
Everyone around the table nodded their heads in understanding. The conversation kept changing and changing until it was time to go to sleep.
Mela and Cyne walked into their own room. Cyneowe removed the pins and accessories from her friend's hair and sighed. There was going to be a long trip ahead of them, Rivendell was rather far. She began to wonder if they should have parted sooner. Mela interrupted her thoughts by kissing her cheek and laying down on her bed after mumbling a quiet "goodnight". Cyne walked towards her bed and kissed her forehead back.
—Ë heamre ou.— She whispered. And Mela whispered it back.