Chapter Text
The carriage axle had broken.
Lady Galadriel Noldor let out a sigh of frustration as she waited for the coachmen to fix it. Unfortunately, the men in charge of her carriage from her family’s country estate back to the city were seemingly not the most experienced with carriage repair. They had been staring at the broken axle and talking about potential solutions for at least fifteen minutes already. The day was unseasonably warm, and with no breeze, the journey was already quite hot and uncomfortable.
Galadriel now found herself standing on the side of the road, attempting to find some shade, while her coachmen worked in vain to try to fix the carriage. She knew they were only about an hour away from the city, and she wondered if she should just commandeer one of the horses for the remainder of the journey and send help back.
She discarded that thought as she considered how it would make her foster father lecture her on her aggressive and impulsive behavior once more. The last time she had received such a lecture had involved her going hunting alone because the rest of the party was not ready in time. She figured stranding the coachmen on the side of the road to ride an hour alone to the city would likely earn her a similar scolding. Resigned to her fate, Galadriel sighed, looking down the road towards the city.
A rider was approaching.
Galadriel stepped further off the road to ensure she was not in the way of the oncoming horse, and that she did not seem like a tempting reason to stop if the person had ill intentions. Her travel clothes were simple and purposefully not ostentatious, she preferred to be comfortable while traveling and not to appear as a target for highwaymen.
The rider slowed and Galadriel was able to see that he was a tall man with reddish brown hair down to his shoulders and a closely trimmed beard. He was dressed in a simple shirt, trousers, riding jacket, and tall leather boots. He rode his horse with the ease of a practiced equestrian and he waved a friendly greeting as he reached the carriage.
“Good day friends,” the man greeted. “Are you alright? Having trouble with your carriage?”
The coachmen looked up and hesitantly greeted the stranger, trying not to appear completely helpless.
“And you, my lady, are you alright?” the stranger asked, turning to Galadriel.
She nodded, but cautiously kept her distance. “Yes, thank you sir. We are just making some repairs, but there’s no cause for concern.”
The man swung down from his horse. “Perhaps I can offer some assistance. I have some experience with broken carriages.”
In any other circumstance Galadriel would have said no, thank you, her staff had it handled. Except in this case they very much did not have it handled. In fact, she could not be sure they had not actually broken the wheel even further in their attempts to repair it. Galadriel would have a word with her foster father when she arrived in town about hiring more experienced staff for her next journey.
“It’s no trouble at all,” the man said, as though he anticipated her response. His accent was different from the gentry of the city; it was rough and staccato, with none of the posh vowels Galadriel was used to hearing amongst her circle of acquaintances.
The man had taken off his riding jacket and rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms. He ducked under the carriage with one of the coachmen who showed him the source of the problem. Galadriel watched as he expertly worked, removing the broken pieces and securing the replacements into place.
Half an hour later he emerged from beneath the carriage, his face sweaty and his hair charmingly tousled and announced that the carriage was fixed and it was safe to travel.
Galadriel stared in amazement at this mysterious man who could fix carriages with very few tools or supplies. Despite the circumstances and her anxiety to continue on her journey, she couldn’t help but notice that the stranger was ruggedly handsome, with bright eyes and a disarming smile. Even the dust in his hair and dirt smudges on his arms and face did not detract from his attractive appearance.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Mister – ?”
“Halbrand,” the man said with an easy smile. “No thanks necessary. I’m just glad I happened upon you.” He offered his arm to help her back into the carriage and although Galadriel was perfectly capable of climbing into her own carriage without any help, she was not about to turn down the arm of this particularly charming man.
“Have a safe journey, my lady,” Halbrand said once she was safely inside. He turned and mounted his horse. Galadriel watched through the carriage window as he rode away in the opposite direction and her coach hurried on towards the city.
* * *
Galadriel made it to the city of Numenor without any further delays or issues and settled into her rooms at her foster father’s house.
Lord Gil-galad, who was technically her cousin by distant relation, had adopted her when her parents had died years ago. Likewise, he had taken her foster brother Elrond, and treated them both as his own children. Gil-galad had never married, but he found great joy in raising Galadriel and Elrond, who, as they had matured, became not only siblings, but close friends.
Now, seated around the table for dinner, Gil-galad asked them both to recount their journeys to town and caught them up on the local happenings and gossip.
Elrond was on a semester break from medical school and was spending his time in the city visiting and shadowing local physicians to better understand the practical nature of medicine. His journey, unlike Galadriel's, had been uneventful. Knowing that the coachmen would have given her foster father a full report, Galadriel retold the story of the stranger who stopped to help them, and while Gil-galad seemed rightly suspicious, he was ultimately grateful, as Galadriel had been, for the stranger’s help.
As the final course of dinner was served, Gil-galad said, “Ah, Elrond, I saw one of your university friends today in town.”
“I had many friends in university,” Elrond said. “Who was it?”
“The brash fellow.”
“That describes many of Elrond’s acquaintances,” Galadriel joked.
Elrond shot her a look and then turned back to Gil-galad, clearly hoping for a better description.
“The short fellow. Quick tempered and could drink all of us under the table. Bright red hair,” Gil-galad said. “Ah, he’s a prince, isn’t he?”
Elrond’s hand paused, midway to bringing a bite of food to his mouth. He stared open mouthed for a moment. “Durin? You saw Durin? He’s in town? Where was he? When did he arrive, how long is he –”
“I did not speak to him,” Gil-galad said. “I merely saw him in town. He was going into a haberdashery.”
Galadriel looked at Elrond. “Weren’t the two of you in a spat about something?” she asked. “You haven’t mentioned him in years.”
Elrond shook his head. “No, Durin disappeared. He simply stopped responding to my letters. I’m not sure what happened.”
“Perhaps you can call on him and smooth things over,” Galadriel suggested. “Surely enough time has passed that whatever offense stood between you, he must have forgotten it by now.”
Elrond nodded.
The rest of dinner passed in pleasant conversation, although Galadriel noticed that Elrond seemed quite distracted for the remainder of the evening. It was not surprising — she had believed that her foster brother and Durin were destined to marry after they finished their studies at university. When the prince had disappeared after graduation Elrond had been confused and heartbroken. Galadriel hoped they would be able to make amends.
As they finished dinner, Gil-galad reminded them that the first ball of the season was the next night and they were both expected to attend. Galadriel tried not to roll her eyes. Gil-galad would no doubt spend this season trying to find her a husband, as he had for the past three seasons. Last season, in a moment of desperate frustration after Galadriel turned down a proposal from a man who clearly only asked due to his obsession with her hair, Gil-galad asked if he had been wasting time and should have been trying to find Galadriel a wife instead. After considering his question in earnest, Galadriel assured him it wasn’t the gender of her suitors that turned her off, but their boring wit, shallow intellect, and inability to match her in conversation. When he found someone who fit that bill, she would be more than happy to entertain a proposal. Until then, she was quite happy enjoying both the lavish balls during the season and the quiet solitude of their country home in the summer.
She bid goodnight to Gil-galad and Elrond, retiring to her room for some much needed rest after the long journey. As she lay down to sleep, a kind and rugged face danced across her mind once more…