By the time Aerlinn passed beneath the outer arches of Mithlond, the sun was at its zenith and weariness of travel had started to sink into her legs.
Her pace was steady as smooth stone replaced packed earth beneath her boots, but her eyes moved back and forth over the familiar roofs and hidden alleyways where she grew up. Even now, Elven architecture stands untouched by the ravages of time and the War of Wrath.
Noldor and Sindar brushed by her in the busy streets as the crowd flowed around her and easy conversations carried in a quiet murmur. A few glanced her way in curiosity, their expressions shifting as they took in her rugged cloak and wild aura born from being away from civilization. None stopped her, but she felt their gazes lingering on her back as she trudged forward.
She was glad for that.
The smell of salt hung stronger in the air as she approached a fine building sitting on the breaker, looking out over the sea. The hammering of metal on wood rang out and gulls cried out over the harbor as the great shipyards stretched out before her along the coast.
The Gulf of Lhûn.
She turned back to the two-story home, made from flowing wood that was shaped instead of carved into walls. The roof was bark long fallen, packed with dried grass that interwove to keep out the rain.
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Her shoulders loosened by a fraction for each step she took towards her childhood home. The smell of baking bread tickled her nose as she climbed the front steps. The soft murmuring of voices pricked her ears as she raised her hand to knock.
The sudden sound of a fist hitting wood silenced the area and gentle steps glided along the wooden floor before stopping on the other side. Opening the door carefully, a beautiful woman poked her head out.
Taking in the sight of Aerlinn standing there awkwardly, a bright smile suddenly blossomed on her face as the door was thrown open, slamming against the wall with a crack.
"MY BABY GIRL!"
In the blink of an eye, she was wrapped up in a hug that a bear would be jealous of and suffocated as the smaller woman buried her face in Aerlinn's fur cloak.
Elenwë started chattering away, energetic in a way few elves were, asking about where she had been and what she had gotten up to. The barrage of words left Aerlinn feeling numb and warm at the same time. She was the same mother who used to gossip about the boys to her when all she wanted to do was swing a sword. (IMAGE)
A rueful but loving smile graced her lips.
Firm steps followed from inside as the pressure of her father's presence forced a rigidity to her posture. Her mother, noticing the sudden tension, turned around and enthusiastically beckoned her husband.
"Look, Caladir! Aerlinn is back!"
Elenwë happily patted her daughter's shoulder while fussing about her weight and the marks on her armor.
Meanwhile, Caladir calmly analyzed the mud on her boots, the notches in her bow, and, finally, the lines on her face. (IMAGE)
Her father had taught her everything about fighting, blood, and war. Though he had never raised a hand against her, the training she was forced to endure had placed a trepidation in her that sought his approval for his baby girl to choose danger.
She respected, loved, and felt thankful for the harsh training she used to curse so much. It had kept her alive and saved her more than once.
Seeing her serious features, Caladir's concerned brows relaxed and a warm smile graced his lips as he stepped forward. Pulling the still chattering Elenwë into a family embrace that immediately silenced her as the warmth of the moment overtook them all.
Aerlinn let her pack slip from her shoulder. Her mother moved around the kitchen, still chattering, as she started making Aerlinn's favorite food. Honey bread.
Her father calmly sat at the table with an expectant gaze as he gestured for her to sit. Feeling lighter, Aerlinn sat to his right so she could watch her mom as she shuttled back and forth.
Her father could only roll his eyes. Aerlinn grinned at him as they both enjoyed their family being whole once more.
Eventually, Elenwë ran out of steam and the house quieted while she softly hummed while kneading dough. Her father, finally with room to speak, cleared his throat as the soft baritone filled the space without trying.
"How are you?"
An innocent question, banal even, but tears still threatened to spill from Aerlinn's eyes.
"Mhm," she nodded, words escaping her.
Caladir's expression loosened. His daughter was not broken, or scarred, or emotionless. She was still the little girl he carried on his shoulders and played with on the beach.
Looking down, a comfortable silence settled, words unnecessary, with only the humming of an ancient folk song caressing the air.
She was home.
Later, Aerlinn finished licking her fingers, the plate in front of her clean of any crumbs. Only the bemused expressions of her parents, kept her from asking for seconds.
Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Caladir finally decided to get information.
"So," he started. "How far north did you go?"
Curiosity was evident in both of their eyes as most elves had never left the lush areas of Middle-Earth and the Northern Wastes were only spoken about. Most had never experienced it firsthand.
"I reached the ruins of Udûn."
Her father straightened at the name; his face once again filled with concern.
"What did you find," he asked.
Here, Aerlinn hesitated. She trusted her parents more than anything else in the world, but even she did not know how they would react to her… unconventional friendship.
Seeing her hesitation, Caladir waited patiently. He trusted his daughter to decide for herself and make the best decision, no matter what it may be. She was a good person.
Making a decision, Aerlinn looked her father in the eyes seriously. "I befriended a dragon."
The air froze as both of them blinked in surprise. Of all the things they expected to hear, THAT was definitely not it. Seeing their brains short circuit, Aerlinn awkwardly scratched at the table. A bad habit when she is nervous.
Elenwë was the first to snap out of her stupor, instinctively slapping her daughter's hand to stop her leaving marks on the new table.
"You – I just had this made," she fumed.
Aerlinn smiled in apology as her eyes kept glancing at her frowning father.
Caladir honestly did not know what to say. All of his experience and centuries of life failed him. In the end, he could only trust his daughter knew what she was doing.
"Is it… nice?"
Aerlinn almost giggled at his awkward expression, usually only seen when her mother flustered him.
"HE is a very nice man – er – dragon," she smiled. "A bit silly at times, but a good dragon."
The soft smile on his daughter's face made Caladir relax. She trusted this… dragon and it seemed to treat her well. Maybe too well?
Narrowing his eyes at the thought, he did not like her expression after all.
Elenwë, on the other hand, was positively ecstatic. Her loner daughter who rarely made friends seemed to have found someone. My, my.
Feeling the weird atmosphere, Aerlinn helplessly shrugged. She had no idea what either of them was thinking.
BAM. BAM.
Someone pounding on the front door startled the trio and her father rose with a scowl at being disturbed. The evening was still young, but the thundering impact on the wood suggested at an armored fist.
Cautiously approaching, Caladir turned his body to keep the door between him and their rude guest. With the dagger at his waste gripped in preparation, he opened the door.
Standing in the threshold was an armored elf carrying a sword at the waist and a shield across their back. The colors of Lindon proudly displayed by the cape draping from his shoulders.
"Oh. Its just you, Neldir."
Caladir relaxed at the familiar face of Aerlinn's childhood friend. One of her few friends. Though annoyed that the news of her return had spread so quickly, he still opened the door wide to let him in.
Neldir stepped through the entryway with a nod of appreciation. Following behind him was the rest of the troublemakers that Aerlinn called friends.
Maeral, a female elf with a mischievous expression and an easy smile, who's trade was being a seamstress.
Calenwe came in after with a reserved expression as he assessed the kitchen calmly. He was a scholar.
Eryndor entered last, broad shouldered and grinning, as his noticeably darker skin made him stand out in the group of fair elves. He was a shipwright.
His gaze found Aerlinn almost immediately, a smirk emerging on his lip.
"You look terrible," he said cheerfully.
Aerlinn leaned back in her chair. "And yet I still look better than your ugly face."
The atmosphere paused at the insult before Aerlinn and Eryndor burst out laughing. The slight tension easing at their teasing.
Maeral made her way to Aerlinn as she stood up to receive the warm hug. "You vanished into the wilderness for decades," she pouted. "Did you forget how to write?"
Aerlinn scratched her head awkwardly. "There is no one to deliver letters that far away."
Stepping back, Maeral scanned her with concern. "You are noticeably thinner. Have you not been eating properly?"
Her gaze lingered on the abs she had felt through Aerlinn's shirt. "And harder, somehow."
Elenwë clapped in excitement, her energy starting to recover. "So someone else sees it too."
They both started talking animatedly about Aerlinn, completely forgetting she was still standing their awkwardly.
Boisterous laughter boomed as her father and Eryndor shared a joke between them. Calenwe pretended to not be interested in the conversation though the slight curve of his lip gave him away.
Neldir sidled up beside her as quietly as a clanking armor set would allow as she took in the scene. All of her friends and family were here. The loneliness that had been plaguing her so long ago felt like a dream.
"How was it? Any exciting adventures," Neldir asked. The eagerness in his expression apparent. His longing to take part in one of the glorious tales we heard growing up was apparent.
Her eyes slid toward him for a second before flicking away again.
"I met a dragon."
The stars in his eyes practically made them pop and the hand gripping the pommel of his sword tightened. The excitement radiating off him was almost tangible, causing Aerlinn to shift slightly away.
"Really! Did you slay it? No, probably not. Unless it was an infant? Or maybe you shot its wings to make it fall? Was there any treasure? No that would mean a den. But would it be easier in a cave? No flying but dragons are stronger-"
Aerlinn stared in exasperation. How could she tell him that she was actually friends with said dragon and that real 'adventures' are painful, uncomfortable, and miserable.
Tuning him out, she could only smile. The journey had been hard, but she had undertaken it because she never wanted to lose the things most precious to her, all the people in this room.
Well. Except one.