Title: In Times Like These Author: Yih Rating: PG-13 (subjected to change) Feedback: holly_yih@hotmail.com Disclaimer: All rights are Tolkien, except “OC”. Legolas doesn’t appear until Chapter 3, but after that he has a primary role in the story. There’s a lot of background story to this story ^-^. It’s primarily about “elves” in general and why they decided to stay on Middle Earth during the Third Age instead of venturing to the Undying Lands. There is a love triangle where Haldir and Legolas fight for my “OC”. 1: The Lost Child Found (February 4, 2003 to February 5, 2003) III. 2791 The darkness had yet to descend onto the ethereal forests of Lothlorien. But it was beginning to fall onto the surrounding areas, however gradual it was. The light of the sun grew weaker a fraction of the time until the sunlight was no longer strong enough to warm the body, thought it was still able to fill the soul with its light. But even though they didn’t want to admit the shadow was falling over their lands, it was approaching. It was coming. Hints of its arrival had already started to surface, even on the borders of the sacred Lothlorien. Within the revered center of the elves, its Lady closed her beautiful and wise eyes, she had firsthand seen how the hand of Sauron was spreading throughout the lands of Middle Earth. It was hard for her to recall the haunted _expression on her dearest daughter, Celebrian without feeling a terrible pain. The fact that it’d happened outside her guardianship of Nenya would forever plague her mind. If only it had happened within the bonds of Nenya, she’d still have her daughter. But even though it had happened in the Misty Mountains, she should have foreseen what would have happened and Celebrian would still be safe. For since the Second Age, even the area around her home had been beyond safe and filled with the glorious beauty that hinted at the magnificence of Lothlorien. But in the last century, things had started to change as little as it did. No longer did the Galadhrims wander outside of her borders because the place of Nenya needed to be secured and protected beyond all else, even at the cost of the safety outside of her borders. In the end, had the price been worth it? She, one of the wisest of all elves, was still tormented by her decision, which had cost her the only daughter she had, her only lovely Celebrian. It wasn’t only Celebrian that had been lost, there had been many others that had been lost similarly, traveling from Mirkwood and even Rivendell like her own precious daughter. Glancing down at the mirror, she checked the progress of her twin grandsons, Elladan and Elrohir, both of whom were making haste speed to the center of the elf kingdom, the greatest stronghold. Since Celebrian’s departure to the Undying Lands, her grandchildren had been her greatest comfort. For in them, she saw the likeness of her only daughter, especially in Elrohir, who had his mother’s gentleness and softness with her ability to calm the stormiest of conflicts. It had been a while since Galadriel had smiled, but she smiled now as her grandsons made it safely into the protection of Nenya, meeting the group of Galadhrim she had sent to meet them. She was immensely relieved that they were within the security of her lands, so that she could take a rest from the careful watch she’d maintained. Ever since Celebrian’s attack and torture from the orcs, she had fears whenever they traveled to her. She couldn’t help but keep an eye out for them to make sure they were protected. “I can see from the joy that you have long been without that the twins of Elrond are safely within our borders,” Celeborn stated with a gentle smile so like Celebrian’s. “Come with me, my Lady and let us send a message to Elrond so that he knows his sons have arrived safely.” She nodded and took the hand that her husband offered to her. Together, they walked to the seeing room where using their minds, they reached out to Elrond in Imladris, who was undoubtedly waiting in his seeing room for word from them. Holding each other’s hands, they glanced toward the direction of Rivendell, reaching out to Elrond, their son by marriage. It wasn’t long before their minds connected to Elrond, feeling the worry at the back of his mind. greeted Celeborn graciously. Both of them saw the image of a much relieved Elrond, who gathered his thoughts carefully before he sent them. Galadriel responded. Elrond replied with reluctance in his mental voice, surprising neither Galadriel or Celeborn. It was well known that Undomiel was his most precious child, being his only daughter. Galadriel stated firmly. Celeborn glanced at his wife with concern because ever since their daughter had departed over the seas to the West, the tension between her and Elrond had been unbearable. Even during their marriage, Celebrian always had to serve as the intermediary between her husband and her mother. It wasn’t that Elrond and Galadriel didn’t get along; they’d gotten along wonderfully before, which was how Celebrian had met Elrond in the first place. But things had changed once Elrond and Celebrian had gotten married. The tension started because Galadriel felt like she was losing her daughter, who she had groomed to be the next Lady of Lothlorien, her successor. It was also understandable that the bond between Galadriel and Celebrian had been incredibly strong as she was their only child. Even he had felt a twinge of envy at how close his wife was to their daughter, but he had suppressed it and learned to deal with it. But Galadriel couldn’t make the adjust he had when Elrond claimed most of Celebrian’s time and energy. As the years had gone by, the strain between Galadriel and Elrond had only worsened. Galadriel exclaimed. Elrond remarked with a hint of rising anger, For a moment, Celeborn had expected the worst, especially since he was nowhere near as gifted as his daughter at calming Galadriel’s fury. But the frustration on his wife’s face faded as she considered Elrond’s words. she stated evenly without a trace of her former agitation. Elrond responded with weariness. There was a distinct pause before he continued, With those last words, the connection between Galadrial and Celeborn to Elrond was shut off by Elrond’s withdrawal from reaching toward them. Once the connection had died, Galadriel turned to face her husband and said in a tone not be argued with, “Tell me when Elrohir and Elladan have arrived for I wish to see them when they arrive.” Watching Galadriel leave him to go off to her rooms, Celeborn wished that things were different and that Cerebrian had never passed into the Undying lands. He didn’t know if that would have changed the course of this world, but at the very least, Galadriel’s powers would not have diminished as much as they had diminished. The reason that the Galadhrim no longer patrolled beyond the borders wasn’t because of the impending darkness, but because Galadriel had faded ever so slightly since Celebrian left. ~ Once Elladan and Elrohir had arrived in Lothlorien, it was Galadriel who was the first to greet them as she met with smiling eyes though her face was solemn as it often was. But both of her grandsons knew when their grandmother was pleased and when she was not, they definitely knew that right now she was beyond delighted with them. Throwing all sense of respectability aside, they rushed to their grandmother and embraced her tightly. For it was Galadriel that reminded them most of their mother, their dear mother. By nature, Galadriel didn’t seem like a warm person, though her heart was filled with warmth. So it was a rare sight indeed to see her embracing even her grandchildren because not only was she expected to behave in a manner fitting the Lady of Lothlorien, but she wasn’t type to be open in public. But this was a special occasion because she hadn’t seen either Elrohir or Elladan for at least half a century, far too long of a time even for one such as she. When they drew apart, Elladan and Elrohir were ready to give their grandfather, Celeborn, a hug of their own because Celeborn wasn’t as reserved as his wife about public displays of affection. Truly the only one that Galadriel had been outwardly affectionate to had been Celebrian and even then only on rare occasions such as the one they were at. Even the elves within Lothlorien had gathered around the reunion, happy to see that their Queen was once again radiant for they knew how sadden she was when Celebrian had departed, even though it had been well over two centuries. “It gladdens my heart to see that both of you have safely arrived,” Galadriel said softly, her voice carrying a power that had lost none of its potency. Though she had diminished with her daughter’s departure, she was the most powerful Queen in all of Middle Earth. “I see now looking upon you how the wisdom has grown in each of you, truly you have gained the insight that was resides within your father and your mother.” Elladan, the more extroverted twin, grinned broadly at Galadriel, though he did not jest as he would if he had been with others. The quieter one, Elrohir stared at his grandmother with a silent intensity that she understood well for it was the same look that Celebrian had given her often. She knew very well how to respond to the gaze, for she had done it many times before. Elrohir broke into a small smile that was far more gratifying than any wide grin of Elladan. It wasn’t that Galadriel wasn’t fond of Elladan, it was that the link between Elrohir and her was strong, but still not as strong as the one she had with Celebrian. At least with Elrohir here, she was able to forget the keen pain she felt every time she recalled the torment that had torn Celebrian from her. “I also feel joy that I have behold the most beautiful Elf Queen in all of Middle Earth once more, my grandmother,” whispered Elrohir fervently, the very same power echoed in his enunciation as was in Galadriel’s statement of greeting. That brought a more apparent smile on her face as she thought of how much Elrohir reminded her of Celebrian, but destiny had already told her that Elrohir wasn’t meant to take over Lothlorien, that was meant only for the one that she knew not but would know once her eyes had seen. Holding her hands out to both of her grandsons, she beckoned them to take them. Once they took hold, she stood with Elladan and Elrohir, leading them up to the seeing room. Along the way, she explained to them that she had talked to their father to tell them they had arrived safely and she told half of the story of why Arwen needed to be back in Lothlorien. It was for Arwen’s own good if Arwen was to learn all that Galadriel had to offer. So when the sons of Elrond went to the seeing room to reach for their father with the aid of Galadriel’s magic, they had much they wished to discuss with their father. stated Elrohir straightforwardly, There was an amusement in Elrond’s reply that was not quite as cheerful and humorous as it sounded. Elladan responded wisely, though he was often the joker of the two when he wanted to be serious he could be quite serious. Elrohir agreed with his older brother, remarked Elrond, Both Elladan and Elrohir bowed their heads in respect as the image of their father faded from their minds. Meeting Galadriel outside, they knew better than to tell her what had happened in the seeing room. Though if she had wanted, she could have eavesdropped easily on the conversation, she was not the type to stoop that low even though she dearly wished to know what had been discussed between the sons and the father. Neither Elladan nor Elrohir breathed a word to her, so she had to wait and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t waited long before. She knew eventually Arwen would return to her. ~ The time that Elladan and Elrohir spent at Lothlorien passed far too quickly. It wasn’t long before they were packing their stuff and gathering the small group of warriors they had brought with them. They numbered only ten, but their group was fast, faster than any orcs that traveled through the area between Rivendell and Lothlorien. As was usual in the partings, Galadriel gave them each a precious gift. To both, she gave them a silver dagger that was made with the most tenuous care and that would warn of the approach of orcs. In their care, she gave them a pendant that had been Celebrian’s to give to Arwen. Their group set out later than they had expected to, but they had made haste speed, escorted by the Galadhrims to the border of Nenya’s protection. Once they were out of the boundaries, the entire group noticed how much chillier the air was and how somehow the air felt heavier around them. Their speed was so blinding that it took Elrohir a moment to notice that the dagger strapped to Elladan’s side was gleaming a pale blue. Only in the most urgent of cases was he able to send a mind thought to his twin and only to his twin because of their connection, The warning caused Elladan to glance down at his dagger and call out to the ones that raced ahead, “Watch out!” His warning came just a second late as the air soon was stained by the foul stench of the dirty orcs. They were lucky however that the group of orcs that they had stumbled upon in their fast flight to Rivendell were as surprised to see the elves as the elves were to see them. Unprepared for the swift act of retribution that Elladan and Elrohir acted on the orcs for the attack on their mother, however long ago it was, caused the orcs to be slaughtered in no time. It was as Elrohir was about to cut the head off of the last orc that he noticed the white bundle that the orc was carrying so guardedly. Quickly averting his blade so that he didn’t harm whatever the orc was carrying, he shouted to one of the archers in the group, who quickly complied and shot the orc with deadly accuracy. Once the orc was dead, Elrohir swiftly dismounted and gathered the bundle that fell to the ground, astonished beyond all else when he saw that it was an elf girl who was hardly more than a child. The wounds, the bruises, and the blood that stained her clothes that he saw so clearly now reminded him so deeply of how his mother had looked that he was hardly able to contain himself as tears filled his eyes. Taking a ragged breath, he regained his senses when Elladan called out to him inquire if everything was okay. He nodded and held the girl tightly to him, mounting his horse and urging his stallion back to the direction of Lothlorien. “What are you doing?” Elladan cried out. Whirling his head enough to catch his brother’s worried _expression, Elrohir explained with haste, “She needs help immediately. She has a wound like mother’s. We have to return to Lothlorien as soon as possible!” “But father is the best healer in the lands!” Elladan exclaimed. “She won’t make it that long way to Rivendell. Lothlorien is much closer.” Having said that, he urged his horse forward, taking the same blistering path that they’d taken away from the Golden Woods. Every few moments, Elrohir glanced down at the small elf girl in his arms, hoping that unlike his mother she would make it. Maybe all those many years ago, he’d make a mistake by heading back to Imladris when Lothlorien was closer. Maybe that was the reason his mother had passed over. Hopefully, this time he had made the right decision. ~ The sanctuary that her mirror resided was off limits to all but Celeborn, but even he wasn’t allowed to look into it without her consent. Though, he was unable to read minds like his wife, he was able to read the physiognomy of her better than anyone else. From the slight _expression on her face, he knew immediately that something was amiss with his fair Galadriel. “What have you seen?” Looking up from her mirror, Galadriel’s eyes were haunted like they had been before, when she had been allow to take a glimpse of Celebrian’s memories of the orcs attack. It took a moment for her to answer, “What my eyes have seen are the sons of Elrond stumbling amongst orcs as equally unprepared as they were, yet handling the situation well.” “Then why,” Celeborn began softly, “are the eyes of yours filled with such a troubled tragedy?” Her gaze settled back onto her mirror where she watched Elrohir make his way quickly through forests that still contained lurking danger. In his arms, he held a white bundle that she had gotten enough of a look at to know. From that, she knew that whomever he held had been tortured severely like Celebrian. What lifted her heart somewhat was that Elladan and Elrohir were heading back towards Lothlorien. “With the orcs, there was one other, a child.” Nothing further did she have to tell him because he understood the implication of what she had said. There was nothing the orcs enjoyed more than to torture a child. It made bile rise up in his throat to think about what the child had had to suffer through, something no one should. “They are heading back here?” She nodded. “Then I will ride out to meet them.” Swiftly he left her, heading out to gather the proper, though still rapid enough escort for the Lord of Lothlorien. It wasn’t long at all before he left the refuge of his home, making all speed to the direction of Elrohir, Elladan, and the elf child they carried. It took a while to find them, even with the guidance and direction Galadriel gave to him through his mind. But in the end, he found them and in good time because their horses had started to tire and grow weary. Having thought to bring extra horses, they put Elrohir with the elf child on their fastest horse, together the pair taking off at blinding speed to Lothlorien. Behind them followed the rest of them, only Celeborn’s stallion was able to keep up the scorching pace set by Elrohir. As they rode back, Celeborn thought with pure astonishment of his realization that the elf child was an elf girl. Once he knew that, he was certain Galadriel also knew because she was always within his mind. If he was thinking how similar this was to Celebrian, she certainly must have the same thought. Yes, she did have the same thought. Backing away from her mirror, Galadriel had to take a deep breath to calm the rampant emotions that coursed through her. All the memories that had agonized her mind for the last two hundred years rushed back with a frightening velocity. The dead eyes, the sunken face, the icy skin, the grey pallor, the detached mind, the nightmarish memories, the lost soul... What Celebrian had gone through, she wished on no one. Lost in her thoughts, she was jolted from them when one of her underlings informed her that Elrohir and Celeborn had arrived. Once she heard of this, she quickly made her way down, stopping only to alert their resident master-healer. It was when she saw the white cloth drenched with blood from a wound so gruesome that even their healer thought the worse. Throughout the entire ordeal, Elrohir never let go of the elf girl, holding her throughout. Finally, the healer could do all that he could do and left to find if there was anymore than he could do. Afterwards when the healer suggested rest, Elrohir still didn’t give up his hold on the girl child, not even to let Galadriel hold her. She caught Celeborn’s worried look, and she gave him a reassuring look before taking his hand and leading her out of the room. Having watched the healer undress the child to tend to her wounds, they were all doubtful of her survival because the ravages on her body were enough to kill any full grown elf. Yet at the same time, there was something Galadriel sensed about this child, a resiliency. As the hours passed, as the days rolled by, the master-healer had stated in an absolutely incredulous voice that the girl child was going to make it. For an entire week, Elrohir had never left her side and Celeborn had only been gone to tend to his duties as Lord, and as for Galadriel, she kept a vigil outside of the room. When the week had passed, some explanations were necessary for Elladan and Elrohir hadn’t appeared at Imladris at the appointed time. After hearing the tale, Elrond himself set out to Lothlorien to lend what aid was possible. Even with his superior healing abilities, the child didn’t wake. Elrond wasn’t able to convince Elrohir to leave until she had awoken from the coma she was in. The life at Lothlorien had come to a stand still as they waited for the mystery child to open her eyes. Over the time she had been slumbering, they had noticed things that were different from what they had first perceived. They had suspected her of being a child, but she wasn’t as young as they had previously thought, though she wasn’t of age yet. There was also curiosity over her silver hair because the color was even rarer than dark haired elves. Lying on the bed, Elrohir stared down at her with reverence and sorrow for even though a month was shorten in time for an elf, it wasn’t a good sign. Though she had recovered, she still hadn’t opened her eyes. He had stared at her long enough to memorize every plane and angle of her fragile features. She was not as beautiful as Arwen, but he had the nagging suspicion that her beauty was not intended to be exotic like his younger sister, but more delicate and soft, translucent. As he was studying her face, she opened her eyes, the eyes that were equally rare amongst elves, a deep steel grey. Instinctively, he tried to reach for her, but she avoided him intuitively. “Mela,” he said softly, “do you not know me?” She stared at him with her silver eyes, no recognition, nothing in them. “It is okay,” he reassured. “You are amongst friends.” When he reached for her again, she let him pull her into his lap, letting him hold her as one would hold a child. The closer he looked, the more he saw that her eyes weren’t expressionless, that they contained the same pain evident in his mother’s. “Do you know who you are?” he inquired because Celebrian had lost a sense of who she was when she had first recovered. As he stared, he didn’t seen any sense of realization pass through her. He didn’t see a reaction at all. It alarmed him so much that his grandmother heard his strident thoughts, for it wasn’t long before she entered with Celeborn and Elrond following closely behind her. “I was not wrong,” Galadriel stated. “She has awoken.” Taking her time, she carefully studied the girl before posing a direct question to the girl, “How are you?” The girl child didn’t answer, and when Galadriel tried to probe her mind she found strong resistance that wasn’t expected for she was able to go into the minds of most elves without trying. There was more to this elf child than she had thought. “How is she?” she directed her question to Elrohir instead. He glanced at the girl in his arms, who looked everywhere but where the others in the room stood. He shrugged for he did not know. She didn’t speak, she didn’t react, and she didn’t look at anyone anymore. She did allow herself, however, to be fed by Elrohir and only by Elrohir. The only other person that she allowed to approach her was Celeborn, even Galadriel wasn’t able to come to her unless either Elrohir or Celeborn was in the room. It made Galadriel feel strange to be excluded when she had always been included. It made her think about how Celeborn had felt during the close relationship she shared with Celebrian. Yet as she watched Elrohir feed the girl he called Mela, the interaction between the two of them was strange. It wasn’t anything she had seen before, for it wasn’t of a man to a woman, nor a brother to a sister, or even a father to a daughter. It was something different, something not quite explainable, but it was special and deep. “Mela,” he urged, “please speak to me.” Despite his urging, she didn’t nor would she speak. Today was the last day he was to stay in Lothlorien for a long time. The twins had spent far too much time already, and Elrond was recalling them back to Rivendell. “Mela,” Elrohir said in a soft whisper, “you need to let Celeborn feed you for I must go, and I do not know when I will return to these parts.” She made no response that she’d heard him, that she even understood him but he knew she did. His thoughts were confirmed when he tried to leave and she grabbed his hand. Staring down with amazement as such a simple gesture for some was miraculous for her, it made him not want to leave but he had to. “I will come back,” he told her. The only sign that she gave him that she had heard him was when she let go her his hand and rested her hand on the comforters that covered her. Standing outside of the room, Galadriel wondered if there was more that she hadn’t seen. It was when Elrohir left that Mela turned to the doorway, her startling grey eyes meeting Galadriel’s deep blue ones. In that gaze exchange, they Lady of the Light had the sudden epiphany that it was not one of her blood, it was not Arwen that was destined to come after her, it was this mute elf girl. This silver haired, grey eyed girl child that was not a child yet was not a woman. She was the one. 2: Vision Of What May Be (February 5, 2003 to February 7, 2003) .III. .2801. Many years had passed by human standards but still the unusual elf girl that Elrohir called Melaeanaire still had yet to speak, though she now at least reacted to others. The one she was closest to was Celeborn, who named her Estelinde, while Galadriel called her Fanyarelisse. But to those of the Galadhrim, who knew that this girl was Galadriel’s chosen successor, they dubbed her Galadhriel, one of the Lady of Lothlorien’s many names. Depending on who was addressing her, they called her by different names, but none of those within Lothlorien had gotten her to speak yet. It had taken a few years for Galadriel to be able to get Fanyarelisse to open up her mind. Once it had happened, she’d been astonished to find the depth of turmoil that her pupil had suffered. Though it’d taken a long time to get any kind of communication with her, it’d taken a year for them to get her out of bed and longer than that to get her out of her room. It had been unusual in the beginning to see the lost child wandering around Lothlorien. It had alarmed both Celeborn and Galadriel when she had left the safeties of the citadel and journeyed into the forests. After that, they always made sure that those that guarded the forests surrounding their home kept an eye on their adopted daughter. They soon found that she liked more than anything else was to rest on a Mallorn branch and read a tome of Elven Enchantments for her studies with Galadriel. It took even more time for them to discover that she had a beyond ordinary fascination with the weaponry practices that kept the guards of Lothlorien fit and ready at the call to protect their city. She especially paid attention to Haldir, who was the March Warden, therefore the one who led the armed practices. One day, she had gotten a little too close the practice, causing Celeborn to call out to her, “Estelinde, do not get too close. It is not safe even if it is practice.” She had turned to him and nodded with understanding before drawing away from the practice field. Standing farther away, she stared at Haldir, who was teaching one of the younger and newer elves how to handle a bow and arrow. Then moving along, he corrected the stance of another elf, who wasn’t holding his sword properly. There were times when Celeborn came to observe these practice sessions, but his attention was more focused on Estelinde than on the elven soldiers in the making. When he glanced back to the spot where she had been, he noticed that she was no longer watching anymore. But then he remembered that she had a lesson with Galadriel and Arwen this afternoon, so that was no doubt where she was. Even though she didn’t speak, it was clear to him what she desired and he felt compelled to fulfill that wish of hers more than anything else. There was something about her that made him want to protect, part of it was his lack of ability to have protected Celebrian and the other part was that Estelinde was like the daughter he’d never had. For Celebrian had really been Galadriel’s daughter, though Estelinde was Galadriel’s protégée, he thought it was right to assume that she was closer to him than she was to Galadriel. Thus, when Haldir had finished with his instruction to the young elves, Celeborn requested to speak to him privately. “I am sure you have been aware of the interest that Estelinde takes in your instruction of the young elves.” Haldir nodded gravely, he knew this. “If you have the time, I wish you to instruct Estelinde in any weaponry of her choice.” “What you wish,” Haldir responded, “I will do, Lord Celeborn.” After Haldir had agreed to train her, there was nothing for Celeborn to do until Estelinde’s lesson with Galadriel was over, for he wished to tell her of the lessons he’d prepared for her with Haldir. He had no idea when she’d be done because depending on what Galadriel felt was necessary, the day was either very short or very long. In a way, he was glad that Estelinde had become her student, but he was also not sure if she was ready for all these pressures for one still so young. It was true they had been incorrect in her age, but she was still only a mere thousand years. Since Fanyarelisse had opened her mind to her, since she had agreed to be her protégée, Galadriel had felt a life resurgence in herself. Still she missed her true daughter, but Fanyarelisse had grown to be extremely dear to her. The lost child was good for her husband also, she had revived him as well. Though less obvious, she saw that no longer did Celeborn have to put on a facade of contentedness, he was content. Galadriel said to her, She bowed, showing that she understood before she left. Heading towards her flet, she stopped when she heard Celeborn call out to her, “Estelinde.” She turned around to face her adopted father and wait to see what he wanted to tell her. “From what I have observed, I have seen your wish to learn what Haldir has to teach.” She stared at him with her usually emotionless gaze. “I have arranged a time for you and Haldir to meet in the morning so that he may tutor you.” Again, she made no response. All she did was pass by him and head toward her favorite Mallorn tree. Climbing up the tree to a branch high above, she ignored Celeborn much like she ignored other that tried to reach her when she did not want to be reached. She opened the book about the lore of foretelling and lost herself in the text. Below her, Celeborn watched her until far too much time had passed. It seemed she didn’t feel like communicating to him. ~ The next morning however, she appeared at the appointed spot at the arranged time where Haldir was waiting, though he hadn’t really expected her. Even though, she had been in Lothlorien for ten years, no one had really gotten a glimpse longer than a few seconds of their Silver Lady as she was called or Galadhriel. When she went out, she wore a cloak that hid her features from view. Now, he got a good long glance at the girl that many said was going to succeed his Lady of the Light. It startled him to think that perhaps she may be as lovely as Galadriel with her silver flowing hair, her grey piercing eyes. What made her fragile beauty not quite as delicate was the scar that ran down her cheek. She was also taller than he’d expected, yet she wasn’t that tall for an elf maiden. He wasn’t surprise that she didn’t speak, for no one had ever heard her speak. What he did was instruct her by showing her the steps on how to use a bow before he handed her one. Standing behind her to guide her in case she needed the help. But from the way she held the bow, he knew immediately that she knew how to use one. Taking an arrow from his quiver, she aimed with a steady hand and hit the target easily. It was no beginner’s luck because her movements had the skill that only came from much practice. She was good with the bow, but no better than the general guardian archer at Lothlorien, nothing miraculous. she requested, placing the bow back into his hand, which he swung onto his athletic physique. His eyes widened this time with shock at hearing her voice in his head. Never had he heard of an elf that had that great ability other than Galadriel. From all that he knew and heard, this girl was mute. Looking down at her discerning eyes, he saw amusement, surprising him once more. His younger brothers often complained about how like a statute he was, being so expressionless. Yet at this time, his face was filled with definite emotions. “Then what would you want me to teach?” he asked with a sharper edge than he’d intended. But it was normal for him because he usually spoke with a sarcastic wit. “What do you wish to learn?” His caustic tone did not bother her, she only gazed into deep blue eyes with her solemn grey ones, the hint of hilarity gone, erased. He thought maybe he had just imagined it. Lost in that musing, he didn’t catch what she was doing until it was too late to stop her. Withdrawing both of the long knives attached to his side, she tested their weight in her hand before she placed them into his hands. She didn’t say anything, only glancing down fixatedly at the long knives pointedly. There was nothing else for him to do other than to show her how to use them. When he finally thought, he’d demonstrated enough to her to give her a try at them, he found that her skill was much better with the boy because her long period of inactivity had dulled her dexterity. Many times, he had to repeat to her the same action so that she caught on. At the same time, her ability to predict his moves greatly aided her initial lack of speed, but as they practiced more as the seasons melted from winter to summer, she improved drastically. At first, he’d taught her out of his duty as March Warden, but now he looked forward to instructing her when she wasn’t busy with her lessons with Galadriel. Those sessions sometimes occupied her for days, even weeks at a time. The difference between her and the other elves he taught was that sparring with her was as much as a mind game as it was a physical contest. Such was the case this morning, which was why he’d disarmed her so quickly. She’d been too busy with the texts Galadriel had given to her to read that she hadn’t practiced what he had taught her. At the end of their session, she had regained most of her previous skills. Keeping his smile to himself, he decided to test if she was ready for a new challenge by tossing her a sword, a weapon she was lacking in knowledge of. From the look over spot in the seeing room, Galadriel observed Fanyarelisse with keen interest. Her pupil was good at wielding the long knives, as good as she was with the bow. Her ability with the sword left much to be desired, but the day she had to use her battle prowess was still a ways away. With her knowledge of both enchantment and weaponry, this was the right time to test her. The only one who she expected to object was Celeborn, who was as protective of Fanyarelisse as she had been over Celebrian. But it was time for her student to leave the haven of Nenya and venture out. There was no one she entrusted the task other than Arwen, who she was sending to Rivendell. Yes, it was possible to communicate with Elrond through the seeing room, but there was too much to pass on and Arwen had been gone from Imladris for long enough. A visit was good for her like it was good for Elrond. So only Fanyarelisse was available to journey to Mirkwood. “I see that you have something on your mind,” Celeborn remarked as he entered into the seeing room to observe his Estelinde’s practice with Haldir. Galadriel didn’t respond to his statement, commenting instead, “Her skill has grown. She is quite adept.” He nodded. “Yes, she is. Despite her lack of strength, she makes up for it with her speed and her ability to predict her opponent’s next move.” His wife smiled as she watched her husband stared with rapture at their adopted daughter’s rather awkward try to defend herself from Haldir’s offensive. This was as good of a time as any to broach the subject at hand. “In the mirror, I foresaw the end of the days of elves,” she stated in a tranquil serenity, her beautiful blue eyes tragic. “Mordor will rise, and perhaps even the race of men will face their end. Middle Earth may be enslaved, and Sauron may reign supreme.” She paused dramatically. “I am sending Arwen with the images I have seen and she has memorized to Imladris... and I will send Fanyarelisse to Mirkwood.” A sense of foreboding rippled through Celeborn’s body. He didn’t want Estelinde to go, but he realized that she was the only one capable for Galadriel had only taught three her knowledge: Celebrian, Arwen, and Estelinde. But Celebrian and Arwen has been studying with her for hundred of years, while Estelinde had for only a mere decade. “Are you certain that she is ready?” “As certain as I am of anything,” his wife answered directly. “You know I do not push when I know they are not ready. Fanyarelisse is ready.” There was still uncertainty in his eyes, and she laid an understanding hand on him, comforting him as he had reassured her once. “Dangerous times are approaching, hervenn. We must prepare her before that time comes.” Slowly, he nodded his head with agreement. “When does she leave?” “When Elladan and Elrohir arrive to bring their sister back to Rivendell,” she responded. “The group will depart together from Lothlorien.” ~ This was to be their last lesson for a long time, Galadriel thought. Arwen wasn’t even here today for Galadriel had sent her to her flet to pack up her belongings for the trip home. But Fanyarelisse still didn’t know of the journey she had planned for her pupil. For Celeborn to let her go, there was to be a full escort led by the most trusted and loyal elf in their realm, Haldir. A small smile graced her lips at her preliminary astonishment that Haldir had agreed to go since he was normally reluctant to leave. Then again the bond between teacher and student was strong. For it was the same with her, but as the Lady of the Golden Woods, she was not able to go. The moment that Fanyarelisse stepped over the threshold to the library, Galadriel knew of it. she greeted. As she was asked to do, Fanyarelisse sat down on the chair across from her adopted mother and mentor. Reaching across the table, she touched Fanyarelisse’s forehead with her hand and thought of the destruction, the turmoil, the desolation, the torment, the disaster that may yet be true. It was a terrible thing to put her adopted daughter through after the unimaginable anguish she had suffered through, yet it was necessary for her to carry this clear prophesy of what was to be unless something was done. Galadriel knew that despite Fanyarelisse’s opening of her mind, she had not freely given all of what she remember of that nightmare. Her grey eyes rolled back into her head as she saw, saw the blood and the tears and the sweat and the death that filled the world of Middle Earth. The black smoke that smothered the air of Mordor swept over the rest of the land, forcing the world into the darkness that had no end. She felt the grief, the suffering, the misery, the tragedy as all the good people mourned their end. The end of the days of elves. The end of the days of men. The end of the days of all the free folk. said Galadriel soothingly. Sometimes, only sometimes did Fanyarelisse speak and then it was only a few words. This time seemed right to say something, but the words forming in her mind didn’t contain enough meaning for her to bother sending Galadriel her thoughts. Instead, her intense eyes focused on Galadriel’s and they shared a look of understanding that went beyond words. her adopted mother continued, Standing up and bowing low, her protégée left to go to her flet and do precisely what Galadriel had told her to do, prepare for what was to come. She watched her adopted daughter leave and hoped that her mirror once again would show her something that was beautiful. Looking at her belongings, she had not much that she valued to take. There were the two long knives given to her by Haldir that she would take, a fine low bow from Celeborn that she could use, and a small worn book of songs that Arwen sang to her that Galadriel had gifted her. These were what were precious to her; these were what she was going to take. There was nothing else. Without a backward glance, she departed her flet and made her way to where all visitors had to go through. ~ Ever since they’d reach the boundaries of Lothlorien, Elladan hadn’t been able to get Elrohir to speak. As was usual, they were being escorted by the Galadhrims. What was unusual was that Haldir wasn’t amongst them. As the March Warden and Head of Guard, he seldom allowed himself to be off duty. Elladan missed Haldir’s sharp tongue, sharp enough to take his thoughts off his weariness. But Haldir was missing from their escort, most strange. “You will see her soon enough,” Elladan remarked. “I do not see why you must be anxious. I doubt that your Melaeanaire forgets the one who rescued her from her doom.” Elrohir turned to his older brother, who had over the past ten years had never quite understood how badly he wanted to see her again. A part of him didn’t know why he’d been kept from Lothlorien for so long, and only now was he being permitted to return. Not many years had passed for elven kind, but still a good amount of years forone as young as she, and she had known him for only a month, was that long enough for her to remember him in the midst of all the agony she had survived? It seemed he was to find out momentarily as their group arrived at the gates of Lothlorien. Still, after all the times he had been here, the beauty still struck him. Once the sight had filled him with the feeling of purity and light, he started to gaze upon the elves that gathered to greet them. The first one he focused on was his grandmother as it always did, it wasn’t too long before his gaze wandered, trying to find Melaeanaire. came the humorous inner voice of Galadriel. That shifted his gaze back to Galadriel immediately. It never failed to draw his attention when she did that to him; it made him realize why his grandmother was revered by elves from all over like his father. There was power and dignity and purity about her that was the same feeling he received from Elrond. Her very stare penetrated into his soul, a power that he knew no one else had. “Greetings for Imladris,” Elladan declared, bowing before the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. “Our father said you requested us to journey here for you have a task for us. Whatever it may be, we vow to complete it.” Galadriel tilted her head in acknowledgement of what the elder had sworn for the both of them to do until the end was in sight. “Yes,” she began softly, “there is a task, there is an undertaking that I ask of you two sons of Elrond, to take your sister, Arwen, back to Rivendell for there is a grave matter that she must with her mind show to Elrond. You will accompany Fanyarelisse, whom you call Melaeanaire until the path splits to Mirkwood for there is more danger in the departing than there is in the arriving.” It was then that they saw both Arwen and a figure cloaked in white appear next to Galadriel. Elrohir knew it was her, it had to be she. With an impulse born of many a nights of thinking of her, he rushed toward her, unable to stop himself from pushing the hood aside. Yes, it was her. Yet, it was not how he remembered her. “Mela,” he murmured, “Melaeanaire, I kept my promise to return.” The gaze between them was long and filled with tension, not once during the duration did a single emotion appear on her face. He had hoped that something would happen, that there’d be recognition. But there was nothing, nothing at all. It was his grandmother’s soothing voice that broke the unendurable silence, “Fresh horses have been prepared, you must leave immediately.” Elladan nodded and called out orders for the elves of Rivendell to switch out their horses with the new ones, while Elrohir pulled himself from her steady, alluring gaze. He moved with much effort to do what his twin had commanded, but like before when he had tried to leave, he grabbed his wrist to prevent him from leaving. But unlike last time, he didn’t have to ask her to let him go. As soon as she had grabbed his wrist, she had let go of him like she had been burnt. Part of him urged him to continue on and not look back, but another part of him told himself he’d regret it if he walked away. So he turned back and saw there was something in her steel grey eyes. It was a desperation and a struggle, a sadness that went deeper and deeper than the darkest caves of Moria. A sudden feeling overpowered him and he took her by the arms, pulling her into his arms. A shock rippled through those around for no one had ever seen her allow someone to get that close to her. This time it was Celeborn, who broke the unsettling quiet, “The horses are ready.” After this declaration, he went to his adopted daughter and held his arms out to her. There was a yearning in him to receive the same public display of affection, yet she didn’t move to him right away. But she went to him in time, and she wrapped her arms around the one whom loved her as a true daughter. When she drew away from him and from where she was, she said her good-byes to the only mother she knew. Galadriel responded full of warmth. Pulling her back on, she walked to the horse Haldir held for her. After helping her onto the grey mare, he swung up behind her because she had never been taught to ride a horse yet. It was safer if she had someone with her to protect her and he would protect her with his life if that was what he was called to do. From where Elrohir was, he watched all this with discerning eyes. There was a close relationship between the two, developed over the years he had been gone. If he hadn’t left her, where would they be? Once again, Elrohir felt Galadriel’s perceptive focus on him, so he urged his mount forward, letting his stallion match Arwen’s white mare. “Arwen,” he declared, “father has missed you greatly.” She smiled, a truly breathtaking sight. “I wish she was going to Rivendell with us, I want father to meet her. She is not like other elves I have known. There is something about her that is not of the elves of this realm.” “What do you mean?” he queried, his voice coming out more defensively than he meant it to. Elladan, who had been giving the farewell for the group, caught up to them in time to hear their conversation. “She means that there is something surreal about her. She does not seem like the rest of the elves of Middle Earth,” he added helpfully. “You only say those words because she doesn’t not speak!” Elrohir exclaimed. “That is the only reason you say that!” “She speaks as Galadriel speaks,” Arwen stated softly, “of the mind and not of the ears.” “Have you heard her then?” Elladan asked, vocalizing Elrohir’s thoughts. She shook her head. She had not been gifted with hearing Melaeanaire’s inner voice yet. “Then how do you know?” Elrohir queried in a voice quite unlike him. Arwen gave him a direct look of reprieve. “Do you not know when Galadriel speaks though you hear not?” It was a moment before he accepted that what she said was true, for he did know. “It is the same as with her, though she speaks in that way infrequently and only to a chosen few.” “Then whom does she speak to?” Elrohir tried to ask casually, but it was hard for him to hide his intense interest. He feared he already knew the answer when Arwen glanced meaningfully toward the beginning of the group, where the Galadhrim that were accompanying their Silver Lady were. As his gaze made its way to the center of the group, he saw Haldir protectively holding Melaeanaire. No, he was not jealous, no that was not the emotion he felt. He merely felt disappointed that it was not him that she spoke to. ~ Author’s Note: (on plot) All elves will be important in this story. Eventually, this story will be following the Fellowship, but there is at least 4 chapters that are based PRE-Fellowship. I have not decided yet which storyline I will be following, I’m leaning toward the movie storyline because it’s shorter or I may decide to intermix details between the book and movie, as said I am undecided. (On ‘Mela’) her name will be clarified in chapter 3 (hopefully). Melaenaire (the holiest little one), Fanyarelisse (sweet heaven), and Estelinde (hope song/faith song). You cannot sway my mind on the name for I have already decided it. As for the “OC” herself, there is not a clear picture of her nor is there suppose to be, you see her through the eyes of the other characters because who is she? Is she who they think she is? Is she who she thinks she is? Does she even know who she is? This story is as much of an adventure of epic portion as it is an adventure of the unimaginable depths of the mind. (on Mary-Sue’s & Love @ 1st sight) I’m not a big fan of the characters falling in love so quickly because it simply is not realistic, so if you’re looking for a fast pace romance this is not going to that type of story. Yes, there will be romance, but discovering the complexity of my “OC” is what the plot is driving at because so far, nothing has been revealed about her except through “two lines” she has . There is more to her than one may think. (about this being a Mary-Sue) Call it what you will, I cannot stop you, can I? I do apologize for another long AN (author’s note) & I hope that for all the effort I put into the story that you will REVIEW, and let me know what you think. Thank you. 3: Where The Elves Will Go (February 8, 2003) .III. .2801. At the front of the group, Haldir halted, holding his hand up as he listened keenly to the eastern direction. Elladan and Elrohir, who were not far behind also turned to that direction and immediately strung an arrow onto their bows. The rest of the escort behind them did the same in almost simultaneous fashion for the two full guardian groups that had set out were all seasoned warriors. It was not long before the orcs they had heard and smelled appeared from the East. Once they were seen, a volley of arrows skewed into their first charge, but to the elves’ complete shock there were still a goodly number of orcs left. Quickly they all grabbed another arrow and shot once more, but most did not get the second shot before the orcs were without a sword’s length. Haldir, being at the forefront of the group, leapt off of the mare, telling the mare sharply to get Galadhriel to safety. The mare was prepared to do what her rider had asked when the Silver Lady on her back slid off. Unnoticed by Haldir, she withdrew the twin long knives given to her by him from their sheath, ready to fight along her teacher’s side. But it was when the leader of the orcs saw her and headed to her that a sense of utter panic swept through her. Those hideous, awful eyes bore down on her with a determination, a purpose that was as lamentable as the one she had tried to forget without any success. She managed to lift her right arm up to protect her, but it wasn’t soon before he had disarmed her and was about to plunge his sword into her stomach when Haldir shoved her out of the way. A terrible _expression of pain and grief was in her eyes as she watched her teacher take the blow that was meant for her. Yet, she was not able to find the strength to come to the defense of Haldir, she stood paralyze by the fear those eyes had driven into her once more. All she could do was crouch down into a ball, shaking, trembling, rocking back and forth as the fear that had overpowered her once took over her again. The past ten years she had tried to forget, but no those memories did not disappear. Over the time, she had been able to push it to the back of her mind, though they were not erased. It was Elladan that saw that Haldir needed aid as two other orcs decided to help their leader, the two skilled elves fought off the attack. It was really about Elladan, since Haldir’s left arm was useless and his right was not as good as his left. But her teacher still managed to fend off and ultimately kill the orc that had injured him, while Elladan gave the other two orcs quick death. She wasn’t even aware of the danger she was in the midst of, too lost in her reoccurring nightmare when Arwen and Elrohir jerked her away, under the cover of their protection as the rest of the Galadhrim formed a protective circle around their Silver Lady. Everything moved slowly, though the fight had ended swiftly. She watched with eyes of agony as she surveyed the death and destruction, not many elves had been killed, only one, not many had been injured, only a dozen. But the images before her blended into another reflection drawn from deep inside of her mind that was filled with gore, violence, and death. Her eyes gradually regained focus, but when Elrohir tried to approach, she backed away until her spine hit the trunk of a blood smeared tree. Neither would she allow Arwen close, it was only Haldir that could come to her. It was once he was at her side that she saw the hideous wound done to his arm, echoes of her former pain overwhelmed her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Too much suffering, too much anguish, this world was tainted. There was no beauty in the blood and sweat and dirt. Where had it all gone? “Galadhriel,” she heard Haldir’s voice call out to her in the maze she was lost in, “Fanyarelisse... Estelinde...” None of those drew her from the depths she had fallen, none of them made her want to travel from the darkness in her mind to the darkness of the world. “Tithen min,” he whispered into her ear, “im wad to protect you with my life.” (Little one, I promise) She opened her eyes. She knew of his vow. She did not doubt his word. No, she doubted the strength of her own heart. There were things that they did not. There were things that even she did not want to admit. There were circumstances that she had been through that she had not even shown Galadriel. Yet, the vividness of her memories still deprived her of who she was. She remembered the days and the weeks of her torture, but she did not recall who she was. “Melaeanaire...” Elrohir whispered, “Mela, you are stronger than you know.” She did not look at him, but he did not feel slighted for she touched his hand before going to Arwen and leading her to Haldir, for Haldir was in pain. Arwen knew what she was asking, she was asking in her own subtle way to heal the one that had saved her from more pain, perhaps even death. Not for anyone would Arwen use the elven healing rituals she had learnt from Elrond, but for the adopted daughter of Galadriel, she would. Chanting softly, she placed her hand over Haldir’s nasty wound, as she chanted faster and faster, a soft silver gleam appeared, closing the gash and healing it. More time had been taken than necessary to regroup, but it was decided that it was best if the two groups split up and traveled their own way for the larger group made for slower going. It was all about the time and the speed for though the orcs were fast, their horses were still faster. Both groups now were heading with all the swiftness of many fervent callings to Elbereth for good wishes and safe journeys to their respective destination, Imladris and Mirkwood. ~ From where Celeborn sat at the head of the table in the long hall, he dropped the wine crystal glass he held and bowed his head down in pain as the darkness overwhelmed him like he had never felt before. As he reached with him mind, he found the source of the pain. He was powerful, an elf with the magic abilities to equal his wife, but the skills of mind were her strong point. It was then he knew why Galadriel had taken Estelinde as her pupil for his adopted daughter had Galadriel’s gifts. With concern, his wife focused on her husband, trying to discern what was wrong, it was while she tried to delve into his mind that she caught the turmoil that was rushing from Fanyarelisse. It was nothing she was not aware of, the reason for assigning her adopted daughter to this mission was for her to face a trial and overcome it. She had not expected the test to happen as soon as it had, but there was nothing no one could do. It had already happened. Reaching for Arwen’s mind, she easily saw that everything was fine, no true harm had come, though she mourned the loss of one of the Galadhrim she had sent out to protect their Silver Lady. “You have felt it too,” Celeborn stated, his vision having cleared enough for him to see what had passed over Galadriel’s bewitching blue eyes briefly. “Is she okay? I do not have the skill you have in reading minds, feeling minds.” his wife said soothingly. He felt a dread rise up in him that his Estelinde may have the ability to foresee for though a rare skill to have, made all the rarer when the High Elves left for Valinor, it was also a horrible power to have. Many a night in Galadriel’s youth under the tutelage of Melian, he had seen how his love had struggled with the cursed gift. For once the gift was realized, there was no way to forget it. The thing about seeing the future was that one did not choose what to see, it came on its whim and though not always true, the possibilities were probable. ~ After many days of hard riding and little rest, even the keenest of elven sense were getting dull, which was how a Mirkwood patrol managed to come upon with scarcely a warning having been said on the Galadhrim group. Of all the elves in the group, it was definitely their Silver Lady, who was doing the worst. It wasn’t the physical hardship that had weakened her, but the mental strain. For the days they had journeyed, not even Haldir could get a reaction out of her. She was very much trapped by her living nightmare. It was with much relief when Haldir spotted the elves of Mirkwood because before strangers, his Silver Lady never showed anything but an unbreakable face of marble, if she showed her face at all. It was no different when she saw the riders appear, her decision to pull the hood over her delicate features did not take him by surprise. Few in Lothlorien had really gotten a good look at her. Though, he wasn’t certain why she hid her face from the eyes of elves because despite the scar her torturers had left her, she was a rival to even Undomiel’s beauty to him. Riding at the forefront of the Mirkwood group was none other than the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf himself. Even she had to admire his unnatural beauty, his long blond hair and pure blue eyes were captivating. In him, that was the true mold elven beauty was based on, much like her adopted parents were. Elves equated to ethereal golden beauty. Yet, it was his confidence in himself that truly made her pay attention to him for beauty could fade as she had learned. His innocence was startling in one of his age. She saw he had no experience with the evil that lurked in the lowest levels of Middle Earth, how could he when he had such an easy, welcoming smile? It was with relief that the Mirkwood elves greeted their elven kin because for a brief moment, they had thought the riders were that of the Nazgul. Those nine riders of the Dark Lord had traveled through their forests recently, searching for something of no good. Whatever they had been seeking had fortunately not been found in this region, but to have a group of Galadhrims in their woods told them there was a matter of urgency. What it was, they knew not. For a moment, Legolas thought the Lady of the Golden Woods had come to grace Mirkwood with her light because there was one cloaked in white surrounded by the Galadhrims’ protection. But he did not think, upon closer inspection, that the legendary Lady would ride in the arms of any elven male. He picture her independent and more surreal. His suspicious were confirmed when the one who rode with her addressed them, “I am Haldir of Lorien, we give fair greetings from our fair Lord and Lady of Lothlorien and have a message of utmost importance for your King Thranduil.” “Whatever must be given, can be received by me,” Legolas declared, “for I am the Prince of Mirkwood.” Haldir shook his head gravely. “That cannot be for I was given the task of delivering the messenger only to Lord Thranduil of Mirkwood, my pardons Prince Legolas.” The two exchanged a stare, where each measured the other up, for both were the best warrior among their people. After a while, the Prince’s eyes drifted toward the cloaked figure that was protectively guarded by Haldir as if beyond priceless. He was curious and wanted to know whom the figure was when a most glorious voice filled his head, There was not a doubt in him that it came from her. He was greatly astonished that a she-elf had accompanied the legendary Galadhrims. Then again, he now sensed the soft aura of power that surrounded her. He was hit with the epiphany that it was because of her that the journey had been made. She was the reason that the Lorien elves had come for she was the messenger. From his stunned _expression, Haldir assumed that his Galadhriel had spoken to the Prince of Mirkwood, thus while Legolas was distracted, he pushed his request forward, “May we continue on, Lord Legolas? For the message that our Lady has to give is only for your father.” Gradually, Legolas got over his daze to give his consenting nod, “Welcome kin to the forests of Mirkwood, we will guide you to our home.” ~ “So the time has come,” Elrond remarked after seeing all that Arwen had to show him of Galadriel’s vision, “where the consequences of man’s failure are truly to surface and spread blight across all the lands. This did not have to happen if the strength of men, the hearts of men had not failed. Then again, they are men, what can be expected? Nothing but for this. History is repeating itself. It has already begun. It is worse than I feared. There is still a choice that has to be made... do we stay to watch the doom of all that is good or do we go to the Undying Lands and forget of all that will come to pass?” The question the great Elrond pose was not merely for the decision of his family nor for the elves of Rivendell... it was a decision all the elves on Middle Earth must answer for it was only together they still were strong. Elrohir and Elladan shared the same _expression of uncertainty as did their younger sister, Arwen. For in the end, all elves eventually went to Valinor, so was it any difference if they went earlier or later? “Will we stay to watch the end of Middle Earth for if what you have shown to me of Galadriel’s vision comes to be it is not the days of elves we will be fighting for but for the days of men to continue. We no longer have the numbers nor the strength for the elven kind to be what it was.” Elrond’s gaze was steady and serious and strong. “The Council of Eldar must be called.” He directed his gaze to his twin songs. “You both must go to Mirkwood and let them know of this, for I must speak to Galadriel and Celeborn.” He shifted his look toward Arwen. “You will accompany me to the seeing room.” ~ She stood before the King of Mirkwood with her face still cloaked next to Haldir, who was the one who greeted the King, “I am Haldir of Lorien, March Warden and Head of Guard, and this is the Lady Melaeanaire Fanyarelisse Estelinde Galadhriel o Lorien, the adopted daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.” “Does the girl not speak?” Thranduil demanded. Haldir shook his head. “No, my Silver Lady does not speak how you and I speak but in methods known only by few. The Lady of Light herself has sent my Silver Lady to show you a message that only she can give to you.” “Will the child at least show her face?” asked the King. The March Warden glanced at Galadhriel, it was not something that even he could ask of her. For it was by her whim who was allowed a glimpse of her. He heard the whispers of the crowd, the wonder and the curiosity of why the girl did not show her face. Perhaps, she was ashamed because those from the blood of Galadriel were gifted with extraordinary beauty. Celebrian, Galadriel’s daughter had been the image of her mother, while her daughter, Arwen, was said to be the likeness of Luthien, the fairest elf to grace Middle Earth. Yes, perhaps it was embarrassment. She drew away from Haldir’s side and walked up the steps to where Thranduil stood. Before all eyes, she bowed before him and pulled the hood off of her fair head. It had been ages since any elf in Mirkwood had seen true silver hair like the silky tresses on her head. When she stood up, tall and proud, her grey eyes caught the blueness of their King and through that locked gaze, she fed him the horrible images Galadriel had imprinted into her own memories. Her message carried more power than Arwen’s for unwittingly, she had added her own pain into the illustrations she sent him, the prophecy of what may happen. During this exchange, the Prince of Mirkwood stared at both his father and this mysterious Lady, who had such power as to frighten elven children. He wondered what she was telling his father because he sensed something was going on between them, something that caused the clear blue of his father’s eyes to darken. When their contact broke, he watched as the Silver Lady crumbled to her knees, unable to bear the weight of her burden. He was about to rush to help her, but her protector beat him to her. Holding a hand out to her instead of just lifting her into his arms, for he knew that would not please her. She looked at the hand and refused it, getting up on her own power, pulling the hood back on. Only those that stood near Thranduil had gotten a good glimpse of her. So whispers spread amongst the Mirkwood elves quickly, some rumors were that she was even more beautiful than Undomiel. Other said that she was terrible to look upon, that beneath the cloth hid a face no one found lovely. But all stories agreed when she departed from Mirkwood as soon as she’d appears that her hair was the finest silver ever seen. Legolas watched her departed, feeling strange. It wasn’t that her beauty left an impression on him, he wasn’t so sure she was beautiful, only that she was unusual. For never had he seen a scar on any elf before, for to have actually scarred meant that the elf had been through enough to have passed through the Halls of Mandos. He had been too caught up with the scar that began at her cheek bone and spread down to the corner of her lips to notice anything else. How brave she must have been to survive that experience. How mysterious she was. Later that very night in Thranduil’s private room, the King related to his son, Legolas, all that the Silver Lady had impressed upon him. The only difference from Arwen’s message to Rivendell was that she had warned the Mirkwood King additionally that his was the first of the elven strongholds to feel the coming darkness head on. Be prepared, she’d warned him with the pictures she’s infiltrated into his mind. Be strong for unless he was, Mirkwood would succumb and fall. ~ There was not much that Galadriel and Elrond saw with the exact same opinion, but on this issue concerning the fate of Middle Earth, they beyond concurred. What was left now was for Elrohir and Elladan to return with word from Thranduil, the last other true elf stronghold. There were others, of course, but scattered and not as heavily significant as Mirkwood. The only other place of significance was Mithlond and Rivendell kept in strong contact with them. In the end, all elves had to agree for them to set their sights upon the future. For as Elrond had voiced, it was together that they had a chance. Arwen voiced, Galadriel agreed, Arwen asked. Celeborn added soothingly. Elrond declared, Implanted in Elrond’s and Arwen’s mind was the glowing smile of Galadriel before she closed the connection between Imladris and Lothlorien. The Golden Lady normally did not need much rest, but many days of trying to reach her Fanyarelisse had been unsuccessful, even with Celeborn’s aid. Her adopted daughter refused to speak to her, and there was no way she could push her to accept what she wished to say. Closing her eyes, she only hoped that whatever had happened on the trip did not damage their relationship for in Fanyarelisse, Galadriel had found another true daughter of her own mind and heart. ~ It was less than seven days after the Silver Lady of Lorien had departed when the sons of Elrond appeared in the forests of Mirkwood. Matters were grave; hearts were stern; minds were wise. He heard what Elladan and Elrohir had to say and he knew what the elves of Mirkwood would do. It was in these hardy woodland elves to give up and forsake their home. Even if they were the first to be covered in darkness, even if they lost their home to the hand of evil, they would not lose faith, they would not lose hope. No, the elves of Mirkwood would stay in Middle Earth. For in Mirkwood, long had elves dwelt that were brave, strong, and courageous. They were not the type to falter in the shadow of calamity; they did not dealt in the doubts of what route to take. For in them, they had forged this forest into their own and made it their home. Let Mordor try to conquer. Let the hand of Sauron attempt to battle the Silvan Elves on their grounds. ~ Author’s Note: As always reviews are nice, thanks! 4: The Coming Darkness (February 9, 2003 to February 10, 2003) .III. .2901. A hundred years had passed since the Council of Eldar and what Galadriel had seen had come to pass. The darkness that she had envisioned in Mirkwood had encroached on its lovely borders, slowly spreading like a sickness that knew only to contaminate and to destroy all that it touched. By the end of the hundred years of waiting, nearly half of Mirkwood was covered by the shadowy gloom, some elves even adjusting to the darkness such that the light now hurt them. The only possible good that came from this blight across their lands were that they were the toughest elves in all Middle Earth. Not a few days would pass before another group of orcs that still had not learn of the strength of Mirkwood elves met their timely demise. Their Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, famed for being the best archers of all elves, had proved his mettle scores of time with his undeniable skill and grace. For none in his patrol were ever lost in their guard of Mirkwood. Everyone in the group immediately stopped at the same time, their keen elven hearing picking up on precisely the same sound, a noise they were quite familiar with. It was the grating thud of orc feet on their Mirkwood soil, they were not that near yet for their foul stench had yet to suffocate their sensitive nostrils. But it was not long before that overbearing odor caused the beautiful faces of the elves to wrinkle with disgust and revulsion. Holding his hand up, Legolas commanded those under him to be ready. They all strung their bows with their arrows, facing the exact direction the orcs were sure to charge at them. Though, this had been the same ritual every time, they never allowed themselves to get too comfortable because that was how other elves had gotten lost. Once the beady eyes of the orcs were seen, the archers released their arrows and with lightening speed restrung their bows and waited for their Prince’s signal. He lowered his hand and those under his guidance let lose their arrows again, slicing through the group of orcs. Those at the forefront of the group leapt off of their horses, withdrawing their swords and long knives to do away with the rest of the rank creatures. Never lacking in bravery or courage, Legolas was at the very front of his elves, slaying orc after orc with his proficiency of movement and expertise. Unlike other elves, he did not use a sword or a long knives, content to using his arrows at close range proximity, taking an arrow and thrusting it forcefully into an orc head that got too close for aim. Few elves were better at that propinquity with their blades as he was with his bow and arrow. For Legolas’s weapon was an extension of his being, he used it as he would a part of his body. Wiping away the blood from his face, he reached back to grab another arrow, only to discover that his quiver was empty. He truly disliked that when that happened for there was nothing to do but to withdraw the long knife he kept to his side in case of circumstances like these. Being distracted for a second, two orcs jumped on him immediately with him barely having enough time to lift his knife up to block the twin blows. The orcs, however, had not thought his reaction would be fast enough to hinder their attacks that they had left themselves open to a return assault, which Legolas played on with full force, cutting them down with the blade in his left hand. Despite how easy he had gotten rid of those two orcs, his heart was pounding because that was the closest he had gotten in many years to being in danger. That meant one thing, he needed to intensify his training. He was furious with himself for not being more prepare, sharper on his feet because the danger of Mordor was coming, he knew that better than any elf in Mirkwood. If he was going to protect his home, he had to be always prepared, which is why over the past years he had trained himself to do what was necessary to be the most venerated archer in all Mirkwood. It mattered if he could sleep while walking, it mattered that he could run for days on end. All that he had trained into himself, all that was the reason when the time of need came, he was ready. ~ “Elrond wants Arwen to be sent back to Rivendell permanently after the visit you two shall make,” Galadriel stated calmly. “He does not believe that Lothlorien is as safe as his Imladris against attack of the dark forces of Mordor when the time comes. What have you to say about that, tithen min?” (little one) The more years that passed by, the more her adopted daughter managed to shed the darkness that had trapped and suffocated her pure spirit. When something was asked, when something needed a response, she now spoke, albeit in mind speech. (mother) Galadriel shook her head. “For me to give her all the knowledge within me, no time would ever be enough. Her gifts are not as strong as Celebrian’s, but still she has the ability to learn, to use what I can teach her. You are the one I place my hope in, Anaire, you are the one that can see into the Mirror.” The first time, she had gazed upon the Mirror, she had seen the desolation of the lands of Middle Earth by the hand of Sauron and how the free folk became enslaved. It was then that Galadriel named her the name that was suited to her, Anaire, the holiest one. Since then, she only looked into the Mirror when it was necessary to hone her ability, but still the Mirror gave what was sought more freely to Galadriel. Anaire’s true gift laid in the ability to read minds, and it was in this gift that she perhaps even surpassed her teacher and mother. “Soon,” Galadriel spoke, “Arwen will return to Imladris, for I understand Lord Elrond’s concern. Times grow more dangerous, soon the road to Rivendell will be even more hazardous. Yet the time is not right quite yet. There is more that she must be taught as you still have to be taught, tithen min.” She bowed her head to the Lady of Lothlorien with acknowledgement that the words she spoke were true. There was much Galadriel still had to tutor her in the ways of the world, in the methods of enchantment. One day when the coming darkness was no longer a danger, she hoped that the books on lore and tales she might read and lose herself in so that she did not have to think of the terrible nightmare that still haunted her in times of weakness. ~ “You are not paying attention, Anaire,” reprimanded Haldir sharply, after disarming her of both of her long knives. “How do you expect to be allowed to accompany the Guard when you are not able to suitably defend yourself?” he asked harsher than he meant to, but when it came to her protection that was the concern that was primary to him. Ever since that day, a hundred years prior, remembering how the orc leader had rushed at her, ready to slice her to pieces had struck a fear into him, him who feared naught. she answered simply in a voice that was even more beautiful to hear than she was to look on, She bent down to pick up her knives and after cleaning the blade, she readied herself for the next onslaught of Haldir’s, entirely focused now on what was before her. Still, she was not faster than Haldir. Still, she was not more skilled than he. His skill and his strength far outmaneuvered her, but it was her ability to predict what move he’d make next that allowed them to match aptitude to aptitude when her mind was there. “Better,” he complimented, “much better.” He was not able to disarm him, he was not able to back her up into a corner. He and she matched blow to blow, their actions synchronizing so perfectly that it didn’t seem like they were practicing combat together, but acting an intriguing dance with twin long knives. “I will speak to Celeborn of allowing you to ride with the Guard tomorrow if that is your wish, Anaire.” There was the barest smile on her pale pink lips, but a smile nonetheless for her. It did his heart good to see her have a lightness on her face when it nearly always covered with the darkness of what had tormented her long ago. If he was able to rid her of her turmoil, he would, but he wasn’t. At least in this, he was able to do for her. “Now, it’s time for the sword,” he declared, “you still wield it like you are afraid to lose it, do not be scared to lose it and then your movements will be sleeker, swifter.” Without further warning, he withdrew his sword and lunged at her just as she pulled her sword out of its scabbard to meet him in a clashing of silver music. She concentrated harder than she had been earlier for the sword was her weakest weapon, she knew it was not going to be long before he either backed her up into a corner or flung the sword from her hand. Stepping backwards, she avoided his blade and tried in a desperate charge to take him by surprise, but he reacted faster than she had predicted. She barely managed to move fast enough to block the blow to the left that was coming when she ran into the wall of exhaustion, not able to escape the onslaughts that she saw were coming. She lasted longer than she thought she would when he finally had his sword under her chin. “Not bad,” he commented, “but it is still by far your weakest.” she responded, her mental voice slightly bemused. To others, a show of emotion was a cause to be entirely astonished, but to him it was normal almost. It still was not quite an everyday occurrence to him for she had gone without _expression for so long for him to treat it as nothing, it was indeed something. He nodded and smiled at her, a truly rare thing for him to do to any elf but for her smiles were abundant. “When has that ever changed?” he inquired back with dry humor that was customary for him. “Tomorrow it will be.” Mockingly, he bowed low before taking the cloak that he had placed on the table and wrapped it around her. It still bothered him to watch her hide beneath, that still had not changed. She was still as mysterious to those that did not know her. Even to him, she was still a mystery. ~ The myth of the unnatural appearance of the Silver Lady of Lothlorien continued to spread by word of mouth slowly over the years until she became nearly as renown as the Lady of Light. Stories said of her ethereal beauty. Tales told of her terrible features. The only thing they agreed on was that she was powerful and caution should be taken around her. No longer did they even agree if her hair was silver. Some said it was grey, others white, but most silver. Despite the uncertainties, maybe because of them, she was the one elves discussed and pondered the most, for she was secretive. Eventually these stories reached the ears of Elrond, and he was amused by them because he knew Anaire as well as she’d let him know her. It was true she was a secret to most; it was not true that she was hideous to look upon. He understood when he’d seen her for the first time, when Arwen had brought her home for a short visit why his young Elrohir heavily defended her name like a sister. There was something entirely fragile about her that made one want to protect her from any harm of whatever kind. How frustrating Anaire must find it for she was like Arwen in strength and independence, without doubt the beauty. It had taken time for Arwen to coerce Anaire into opening up to her. When she had, the two girls had forged a true bond of sisterhood. Arwen was the more forceful, while Anaire was passive. But both had strong minds and faithful hearts. Both believed that the elves were needed to stay no matter the doom that waited. Soon his Arwen would return to Imladris with Anaire to perform the ritual that would tie them together as sister and make Elrond as much a father Anaire as Celeborn. The first part had already been conducted in Lothlorien, it had been decided the last part would be done at Rivendell with Elrond presiding over it. The Lord of Imladris smiled because his Arwen was right. Even in the darkest of times, there must be hope for hope was the only light strong enough to banish the darkness from whence it came. In such a time of doom, his heart was listed in that a lost and frightened and terrorized child over a hundred years later had found a family, even if it was not blood bound. In such a time of darkness, his heart was lightened that despite the fall of shadows, there was still goodness that grew and thrived in its midst. In such a time as this, that there were still smiles made him believe that even though the strength of others had failed, there was still the hearts to elves to continue on. ~ The trip to Rivendell had been surprisingly uneventful with the increased orc activity outside of the Golden Woods. It was fortunate for the trip was done with haste for Galadriel had already commanded both Arwen and Anaire back to Lothlorien as soon as the ritual was done. Time was invaluable as the doom of Mordor continued to spread its evil dominion over Middle Earth. She had also converse with Elrond into allowing her to continue to instruct Arwen for as long as she thought necessary. When they arrived at Imladris, Elrond and his twin sons were on hand to welcome Arwen and Anaire back. It had been many years since they had last come, though Elladan and Elrohir often journeyed to Lothlorien to visit their sister and their grandparents. Their visits also covered the missives that were sent back and forth for the seeing rooms were used seldom as it was not as safe as it had once been. “Your return to Imladris,” Elrond declared from where he stood atop the stairs looking like the Lord of Rivendell, “has been eagerly sought and anticipated, Arwen Undomiel and Anaire Istelile.” Elladan and Elrohir were not as reserved as their father was, grabbing their sister and soon to be sister into their arms with a joyful greeting. It was when Elrohir had Anaire in his embrace that caused Elrond to cough to remind them that the hold had gone on for far longer than was necessary. Elrohir finally loosened his grip on Anaire, though his eyes never left her face. His father watched them carefully to make sure that there was no emotion other than that of an overwhelming happiness to see her, for once this ceremony was completed Anaire would be as much of a sister as Arwen in the eyes of elves. “In your rooms,” Elrond continued to address Arwen and Anaire after a pause, “everything has been prepared. The Ceremony will begin very soon, it is as Galadriel requested that you two journey back to Lothlorien after staying the night over. You all are dismissed to prepare.” All started to head to their rooms to get ready for the ritual when Elrond called out specifically, “Elrohir, I want to speak to you private. Come with me.” Following his father to his study, Elrohir had a guess what his father wished to speak to him about, though he felt it was late in the asking now that things had come this far. Then again, his thoughts could be wrong, so he asked in a way that said he didn’t know why he’d been called to speak to his father private, “What is it that you with to speak to me about, father?” Elrond gazed at his younger son carefully, Elrohir was perceptive more so than Elladan when it came to matters of the mind. He found it hard not to believe that Elrohir hadn’t guessed. Though he did not have the gift to read minds, he did know his son like every parent knew their child’s mind. “Anaire,” Elrond stated, “do you have feelings for her that I should be made aware of?” His son’s eyes avoided his father’s piercing gaze while he responded with a question of his own, “Why do you ask?” “Because I am concern. Once this is done, it cannot be reversed or erased,” Elrond said gravely. “Answer me truthfully, do you have feelings for her, Elrohir?” He lifted his face up to meet his father’s intense gaze, eye to eye. “I do not know what feelings I have for her,” he replied honestly. “My feelings for her are unlike any I have encountered before: I want to protect her, guard her more than that I do not know.” Elrond sighed with relief. His concerns were perhaps unfounded. If the feelings were not more than that, then it was how a brother felt for a sister, a father for a daughter of a warrior to an innocent. Placing his hands on Elrohir’s shoulders, he asked to erase all doubt, “Have you ever felt like there was a possibility she could be more? How do you feel that she will be as much a sister after this ritual as Arwen?” “It is what Arwen wants,” Elrohir responded, “and it is what Anaire needs, a family that is full and complete. For Arwen, this is necessary as well for Anaire is like the sister that Arwen never had. As her brother, I have seen how close she has gotten to Anaire, and how good it has been for her since she lacks a true mother figure. Until Anaire, it was assumed she was Galadriel’s successor and thus was isolated from other elves. In that both are under Galadriel’s guidance has brought the two together as sisters and this will only tie them more.” “Well spoken,” Elrond remarked, “so that is your answer?” Elrohir nodded. “Since that is your answer, then the ceremony will go on.” ~ At the top of the path, Arwen was dressed in a pale twilight blue gown that mirror the same design of Anaire’s yellow-tinged gown. Arwen smiled at Anaire, holding out her hand to her, asking, “Are you ready?” Anaire took the hand that Arwen offered to her and together the Evenstar and Silverstar moved down the path that the elves of Imladris and those that had accompanied Anaire from Lothlorien made for them to work down. All the elves watched with wonder as the rumors and the stories and the tales became reality as they saw the glorious beauty of the two fairest elven maidens of the Third Age. One, whose magnificence was dark and exotic; one, whose splendor was light and fragile. Together their beauty was blinding. It was an overwhelming light in a time of impending darkness. From where Haldir stood to the front of the line, his eyes were glowing with his pride in his Istelile, Silverstar, a name he had gifted her one night when sky had been filled with darkness and she was the only star that shone. He had asked to be the representative to Rivendell since the day she had arrived at Lothlorien, they had never gone a day without seeing each other. That request had amused both the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien for Haldir was impossible to get to leave the Golden Woods unless it was asked of him as a favor to them. Even then, he was notorious reluctant and made it plain he disliked it, for his love of his home was well known. But anywhere Anaire went, he followed, even if it meant to the ends of time. On the other side, Elladan and Elrohir stood, watching the two girls approach their father and bow low before turning to face each other. They stared into each other’s eyes as Elrond began the ritual, “Across the time, across the space, for nothing can ever separate two hearts that wish to be bound. These two hearts, two fair hearts wish to be linked not by blood of bond but by bond of souls, of hearts. Elbereth, our Elentari, bless this union of sisterhood, bless all elves everywhere.” Once Elrond was done speaking, Arwen took a twin necklace to the one that Galadriel had given to her many years before that had once been Celebrian’s and placed it around Anaire’s neck. The replica was faithful and carefully crafted by the best of all elven craftsmen, thus it had taken time, which had delayed the ceremony a few years. Nonetheless, the necklace had arrived and it was identical in every fashion to the one that Arwen bore on her own neck. “We may not have been born sisters,” she murmured, “but we are sisters of the same heart.” Anaire placed her hand on the necklace and then placed her hand on Arwen’s necklace. “Sisters infinitely.” With joined hands they faced the crowd of elves that had gathered for this joining of sisterhood, the bonds never to be broken. As the elves from Rivendell and Lothlorien witnessed the two fairest elven maidens deepen their bond of friendship into an everlasting bond, the elves wondered if these two stars, these two lights would be able to fend off the growing darkness in the world around them. For it seemed hopeful, for their light, their very beauty was a comfort in the midst of all the danger looming. Author’s Note: Feedback is nice!