Title: In Times Like These 
Author: Yih 
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my “OC.”  
Tara- The race for Anaire is definitely between Haldir and Legolas. 
Donna- Thanks so much!
AngelQueen- Yes, I tried to make it mysterious, and the bonds are important. It’s not so focused on the romantic 
ties.
AngelsExist- Thanks! 
Enjoy this update!  
 
 
5: Changing Hands of Fate (February 11, 2003 to February 13, 2003) 
.III. .3018. 
They rode for days on end, taking almost no breaks for the times had only grown more dangerous. Despite their 
fleetness of horses, they still had had to deal with an orc attack, which they successfully fought off with no 
injuries much less casualties. All those in the Galadhrim group were skilled by many a years of protecting 
Lothlorien. But finally, they had reached Rivendell where Elrond and Arwen were awaiting their expectant arrival. 
 
“At last you come,” Arwen greeted with glowing eyes as she rushed to her sister and hugged her eagerly in 
welcome, “you were delayed, were you not?”  
Anaire nodded. <By orcs,> she answered, <but that was momentary. The fasted route was blocked, so we had 
to work our way around. Has the Council begun?> 
Arwen shook her head. “No,” she responded, “the representatives from Gondor have yet to arrive, though the 
Mirkwood elves did beat you here.” She bowed to her father and took her sister’s hand. “Come to my room, we 
have much we need to discuss.”  
Waving his hand in agreement, Elrond dismissed them and turned his focus onto Haldir, whom he had much to 
inquire of. “Any word that needs to be made known to me, Haldir o Lorien?”  
“None, Lord Elrond,” he responded. “What Galadriel told you last time remains true, that is all she bade me tell 
you.” It was what he had hoped not to hear, but so be it--- Galadriel knew what she was doing better than 
anyone.  
“Anaire, she fought well against the orcs she met during journey to Imladris?” Elrond queried.  
“Well, of course,” Haldir replied in almost a scornful fashion that his pupil would not have fought well, “she is as 
skilled as any in my guard or else she would not be in my guard. Over the years since the doom has been 
foreseen, I have prepared her to handle whatever may happen. There is still more for her to learn, more for her 
to experience, but though not naturally a gifted warrior has forced herself to be one.”  
“Forced herself to be one?”  
“Yes,” he said simply, “she has tried hard to be skilled with weaponry, yet still she is lacking. She pushes herself 
harder than any I have taught because she wants it. She is not talented, but she is the best student I have. Only 
when she is distracted is she weak, when she is focused her ability to read minds make up for any deficit of 
natural ability.”  
Elrond had heard enough. Glancing at the hallway where Arwen and Anaire had departed, he stared at the spot 
where the two sisters had left hand in hand. Together, they had a destiny woven into the hope of Middle Earth. It 
was not for him to question when Galadriel had already allowed Anaire to walk down the path of certain death. 
Maybe there was something else that the Lady of Light knew that he did not, for he did not think Galadriel would 
knowingly sacrifice a daughter of hers into the forefront of an absolute demise.  
~ 
She watched her sister move up and down the length of her room with knowing eyes for Arwen had never been 
able to shield her mind effectively from her. Yet, Anaire did not allow herself to dip into Arwen’s mind when the 
information would be freely given if she waited for it. It was for that reason that Arwen had brought her here to 
discuss something that was plaguing her mind, something Anaire had already guess at. <There is something you 
wish to say. So say it, Undomiel.> 
“Istelile,” Arwen began, her hand on the pendant they both had, “we share this necklace between the two of us... 
it is our bond with each other... but I wish to give it... to Estel.” 
Her suspicious were confirmed. <We share the necklace, but the bond is in our hearts. Giving the pendant to 
Estel will not change our sisterhood. Giving your heart to Aragorn will not lessen the ties that bind us. Undomiel, 
it is your heart to give. Give it well, give it freely.> 
“Thank you, Istelile,” Arwen whispered. “To have a sister whose heart is as true and as pure as yours is a gift 
beyond all else.”  
<I am no better than the others,> Anaire responded. Arwen was about to ask why she thought that, but Anaire’s 
stony _expression told her it was not wise to inquire. There was still much about her sister that she had yet to 
know though Anaire knew all she kept within her. She did not understand why, but she knew better than to 
pressure her for that only forced Anaire back into her shell. It had taken all these years for her to open up this far 
and still she did not speak aloud.  
Anaire averted her gaze from Arwen’s and stared out at the darkening sky, seeing a vaguely familiar silhouette of 
a figure on the bridge over the lake of Imladris. She did not have to see his face to know who it was. It was Estel. 
He was waiting for Arwen, undoubtedly. <He is waiting for you.> Her sister gave her an apologetic look before 
heading out to meet her lover. Anaire watched as Arwen with a sympathetic gaze for their very love was in the 
end, whatever end it was going to be was going to filled with sorrow.  
As she turned her face, she caught her reflection in the mirror. It had been hundred of years since she had dared 
to see her face. Now she was getting a good look at herself, and she understood why everyone gaped when they 
saw her. She traced a solitary finger down her scar that began below her eye and traveled down to the corner of 
her mouth. She couldn’t get passed it, how did others get pass it? When she focused in on her grey eyes, she 
saw the darkness that others did not see. For she knew what resided beneath her eyes, the dark shadows.  
She was still haunted by her demons. It was something that she couldn’t shake away from her core. Whenever 
she saw orcs, she had to fight the fear within her to run, to hide, to simply escape. She wasn’t that helpless child 
they had taken and abused any longer. She was made of strength now, the strength to resist them and to 
prevent them for torturing anyone the way they had tormented her.  
Lost in her thought, she had no idea she had even left Arwen’s room and was wandering aimlessly down the 
hallway until she bumped into someone. Lifting her head up quickly, she quickly bent it down, not able to bare 
the sight of having someone glance at her, her terrible scar, her terrible secret. It wasn’t like her to go anywhere 
without her cloak, why did she not have it now?  
“It is you,” said a voice, soft and liquid, entirely unfamiliar to her. “It really is you.”  
The call in his voice made her lift her face up again. She stared into eyes that were a true blue, and she realized 
that she did not know him though he knew her. She tried to place his face, his perfectly beautiful face but she 
could not. She did not recognize him, yet somehow he knew her. At least, he thought he knew her. Shaking her 
head, she began to back away from him.  
From the way she was shaking her head, it was obvious that she did not remember her. He had not thought 
about her in a long time, but there were times when his mind was pulled back to his memories of her. The way 
she had knelt before his father, the determination in her gaze, the strength in her fragility had moved him and 
had made her unforgettable. “You spoke to me,” he whispered insistently, closing the gap she was making 
between them. “Do you not remember? You said: Do not ask to know one no one knows. You met me at 
Mirkwood when you brought a missive from the Lady Galadriel. I am Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood...” 
“Do not pressure her,” Haldir interrupted as he walked up to Anire, placing her white cloak onto her shoulders. 
“In time, she will remember you if that is what she wishes.” He moved to the front her, fastening her cloak on for 
her like a father. “Istelile, Elladan and Elrohir have arrived back from their last mission and both wish to speak to 
you before they ride out tonight, since it has been quite long since they have last seen you.”  
She nodded and bowed respectfully to Legolas before she left to go to rooms that Elladan and Elrohir shared 
while they were in Imladris. Once she had faded into the night, Haldir turned sharply to Legolas and was about to 
say something but Legolas beat him to it, “Why does she not remember her trip to Mirkwood?”  
“The trip was traumatic for her because of the attack by the orcs,” Haldir responded finally, still staring down the 
empty hallway that Anaire had used to walk away. “It was not discovered how badly it had unnerved her until we 
returned to Lothlorien. It was then that she started to open up even more to Galadriel, showing her more fully 
the memories that still plagued her. It is not that she does not remember you, she does not want to remember 
that trip much like she does not wish to remember her past.” He stopped speaking after that, giving a stiff nod 
before he too turned away and followed the path Anaire had taken.  
Still standing where they both had left him, Legolas pondered the halting information that Haldir had given him. 
Truth be told, he had almost not recognized her not that she appeared different. There was a different air about 
her, a different aura. When he had first seen her, there was this feeling of being lost like she wasn’t of this world. 
When he had seen her just now for the first time in many years, he got a different emotion about her. No longer 
did she feel surreal, she no longer felt quite so out of reach--- she was in reach.  
~ 
A glimmer of a smile appeared on her lips when she saw her brothers, Elrohir and Elladan waiting for her. It had 
bothered her as she’d made her way to where her brothers were waiting, why she didn’t remember the beautiful 
blond and blue eyed elf that knew her. She vaguely recalled Mirkwood but only barely. She remembered going to 
Mirkwood, but she didn’t recall the elf that claimed to be its Prince. What Haldir said was true, that when her 
mind wanted to remember it would.  
“Anaire Istelile,” Elladan greet, going to her and giving her a hug, “it is good to see you again, muinthell.” 
(sister) 
Elrohir approached after his brother and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Muinthell,” he whispered as he 
embraced her, “Elladan and I wish to ask you to come with us on our journeys around.” He paused to let his 
request sink in. “Will you come?”  
She stared into Elrohir’s piercing gaze, and she knew that he knew why she’d come to participate in the Council 
that Elrond had called upon. It also meant that she could possibly be part of whatever their father decided on 
what to do with the one ring. For both Elladan and Elrohir knew that the one ring could not remain in Imladris, 
the elves did not have the strength to keep it from Sauron. They had not regained even half their strength in the 
War of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.  
<You leave tonight?> They nodded, they indeed left this night. <I cannot,> she replied, <I am needed to 
represent the elves of Lothlorien at the Council. My apologies, Elladan and Elrohir.> 
“It is okay,” Elladan responded, “I had to ask to give you another option. Keep safe, Anaire, for when we return 
we want to see you as well as the day we left you.” Taking a silver dagger from his bag, he tossed it to her. “For 
you, whatever path you take,” he declared. “Made by master dwarves and will serve you well as it has I.”  
From Elrohir’s finger, he pulled a ring set with a precious moonstone off of his finger and placed it into her open 
palm. “Given to me by amme from her amme that I now give to you, Anaire. Remember how far you have gone 
and who you are.” (mother) 
<Thank you.> She slipped the ring onto her finger and placed the dagger into the sheath at her side. <There is 
something I have for both of you.> She took out of her pocket two small phials filled with a clear liquid. <From 
the Mirror of Galadriel for you to remember the clarity and the vision behind your paths.> 
All three knew that this exchange of gifts may be the last time they saw each other for the longest time ever. 
Each was to undertake a dangerous journey to prevent the desires of Sauron from being realized no matter what 
the cost. The decision of the Council those many years ago had decided that though the days of elves were 
coming to an end, they would stay to make sure that the days of men, the days of the free folk did not end.  
“Elladan and Elrohir,” Haldir stated, breaking the penetrating silence that surrounded the three of them as he had 
walked up to them, “Lord Elrond needs to speak to you.” The twin brothers gave one final glance at their adopted 
sister before they hurried to go to their father, for in these times things were urgent. Once they had departed, 
Haldir whispered softly, “You need to rest, Istelile before tomorrow comes.”  
Her grey eyes lifted to meet his intense blue ones that knew her as well as anyone besides Celeborn and 
Galadriel. <I know Haldir. I know.> She raised her hand up and followed the scar down her cheek, something 
she had never done before. <I saw my face in Arwen’s mirror. Is it unsightly?> 
He took her hand and traced her scar with his finger gently, barely touching it. “No,” he answered, “it is not.” 
When his hand came to her chink he tilted her face up so that his blue orbs stared into her grey ones. “The 
mirror only reflects your appearance and not your heart, not your soul.”  
<Thank you, Haldir.> 
“Remember,” he declared after he had escorted her to her room, “even though we are at Rivendell, the morning 
sessions still stand. Be ready before the sun rises.”  
~ 
The next morning, Anaire was up, working at her aim with her bow when she heard the footsteps of someone 
behind her. She whirled around expecting to see Haldir, only to be confronted by the elf from last night. Her eyes 
widened, but she quickly controlled her emotions and refocused her attention on the target. Stringing her bow 
with an arrow and narrowing her eyes with concentration, she then let it loose. The arrow flew through the air 
and split the arrow that was already in the center of the target.  
“Less time to aim equals more time to shoot,” Haldir advised as he slipped from behind a tree. “You need to be 
quicker and less careful.” He approached her and stood next to her. Taking his bow, he pulled arrows from them 
fast with barely any time to aim he released them. He didn’t stop until ten arrows had blown from his bow. “Let 
the feeling guide you. You will feel the intuition.” He placed his hand on hers, standing behind her like she was 
still a novice, he commanded, “Close your eyes.”  
She closed her eyes and shot whenever he placed an arrow into her hand. When she reopened her eyes, she saw 
that all her arrows were approximately near the target, despite that she had had her eyes closed and had spent 
little time aiming. When she looked up to see what Haldir’s _expression was, she saw he was pleased because 
there were no emotions written on his stoic face. It was easy for her to tell when he was irritated, frustrated. She 
did not have to read his mind.  
<That is better is it not?> 
“That is better,” he agreed. Without giving her a chance to prepare herself, he withdrew his sword and lunged at 
her. Swiftly she slid her twin long knives out and blocked the blow, this randomness was what he’d been trying to 
teach her all these years to expect what was unexpected. Anaire was plainly on the defensive, while Haldir was 
on the offensive. Legolas watched with fascination as neither really got a distinct upper hand. They fought like 
they danced.  
Neither of the three noticed Arwen’s approach. “Anaire,” she called, “the Council is about to begin.” When Arwen 
noticed Legolas standing to the side, she continued, “Prince Legolas, you are needed at the Council as well.”  
“May I attend the Council?” Haldir requested, sheathing his blade.  
Arwen nodded. “I believe a spot has been reserved for you, Haldir as the March Warden of Lothlorien. You are to 
be seated next to muinthell nin. Will you three follow me?” (my sister) 
~ 
“Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You are summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle 
Earth stands on the brink of destruction,” Elrond declared. “You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to 
this fate, this one doom.” He paused and his gaze fell onto the hobbit that had carried the burden. “Bring forth 
the ring, Frodo.”  
To Elrond’s immediate right stood his sworn daughter, Anaire, who watched with keen eyes as the hobbit placed 
his hand over the center of the Council and dropped the ring. The _expression on his still pale face was relieved, 
glad to be rid of the awful weight. In him, she saw how the ring had pulled at him, how it had made him suffer 
through the lure yet he had fought it with a heart of purity.  
“So it is true. The ring of power. The doom of man.”  
Boromir stood up, the son of the Steward of Gondor, the representative of man. “It is a gift, a gift to the foes of 
Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By 
the blood of my people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against 
him.”  
The feeling she got from this man, this son of man was not the same emotion she received from Aragorn. It was 
not that he was an evil soul, it was that his soul was easily swayed. Already the lure of the ring was pulling at 
him, trying to reach him and move him as it had moved Isildur. The darkness she felt made her heart ache with 
the barrenness until she stepped closer to Haldir, who stood right beside her.  
“We have but one choice,” Elrond continued. “The ring must be destroyed.” 
“What are we waiting for?” Gimli queried loudly. He stood onto his feet and pulled his axe out, striking the ring. 
But he did not draw the focus that Frodo did of hers. True, Gimli was knocked to the ground, yet Frodo was 
paralyzed by something, some vision he saw. Carefully, she probed the outer reaches of his mind and saw, saw 
the horror of what he saw. The eye of Sauron.  
She almost gasped, but managed to keep it to herself. “The ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any 
craft that we here possess,” Elrond stated firmly. “It was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be 
unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from which it came. One of you 
must do this.”  
A silence filled the air that was deafening. Her eyes hit all those that were there, and her eyes fell onto Legolas. 
He was noble and good, strong and brave. It was not long before the silence erupted into a vortex of voices. She 
watched the chaos that started as the races of Middle Earth argued amongst them for what way they’d take to 
destroy the One Ring.  
It filled her heart with agony as she heard the Ring chanting, chanting its name, its terrible purpose in the 
language of its master. She was seized with the festering darkness that she kept trapped within her. Those 
horrible words reminded her too much of what she had gone through that she had unwittingly grabbed Haldir’s 
arm. Comfortingly, he placed his hand over hers.  
“I will take it.” She was the only one to hear Frodo’s declaration, but she was not the last as he repeated in a 
stronger exclamation, “I will take it!” The rest of the Council turned their focus to the brave, pure, innocent 
Hobbit. “I will take the ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way.”  
“I will help you bear this burden for as long as it is yours to bear,” Gandalf declared, resting his hand upon 
Frodo’s shoulder.  
“If by my life or my death I can protect you, I will.” Anaire watched as the love of her sister’s life knelt in front of 
Frodo with his vow to be faithful as only the true heir to man could do. “You have my sword.”  
“And my bow.”  
“And my axe.”  
“You carry the fate of us all, little one,” Boromir remarked. “But if this is truly the will of the Council, Gondor will 
see it done.” Yes, his heart was easily swayed, but this man was not corrupted not quite yet. It remained to be 
seen if his heart was stronger than the taint that the weakness of men’s hearts already bore.  
This was the fate of Middle Earth being decided here. It was a wondrous moment as the races all joined together. 
She stepped forward, stepping to join when Elrond’s hand prevented her from moving forward. She glanced up at 
him with inquiry in her eyes, this was what she thought she was brought here to do for Galadriel had told her 
that there was something here to bind her destiny.  
It was not to be she realized as she watched three hobbits spring from their hiding placing, making up the 
seventh, eighth, and ninth members of the nine party Fellowship. “Nine companions,” Elrond commented. “So be 
it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”  
~ 
“Haldir,” Elrond said, “Galadriel has recalled you back to Lothlorien, but Anaire will ride after Elladan, Elrohir, and 
Glorfindel, whom are tracking the Nazgul. That is what Galadriel has foreseen is her task to fulfill. It was only this 
morning that she informed me of this.” 
“I cannot leave her alone,” Haldir declared. “Who will protect her until she meets up with them?”  
“You will accompany her until she meets up with the small group of Imladris I have sent to delay the nine riders,” 
Elrond responded. “After you meet up with them, you will then travel to Lothlorien.” He paused momentarily. 
“Prepare her things while I speak to her privately for you must depart before the Fellowship and clear their way, 
the task I have given my sons.”  
Haldir nodded and bowed low, leaving Elrond’s study. Not long after, Anaire entered and the father of her oselle, 
guided her up the stairs to the seeing room. “Galadriel can explain to you your destiny better than I,” Elrond 
declared before he left her alone in the room. (sworn sister) 
Anaire had never tried to reach along, but she had studied how to. So she faced the direction of Lothlorien and 
reached out with her mind to feel Galadriel’s touch. Her mind was clamed as she felt her adopted mother’s golden 
feel. <Amme,> she greeted and then added as she felt the gentleness of Celeborn, <Adar, how are things in 
Lorien?> 
<They are good, Estelinde,> Celeborn responded. <There is much Galadriel needs to speak to you of and there is 
little time. But know my strength and my will are behind you.> 
<I know, Adar. I know.> 
There was a moment of quiet as those thoughts sunk in. <Anaire, my Fanyarelisse, first I had thought you were 
to accompany the Fellowship, but you are needed to clear the path they are to take. In time, fate may change 
that, but be strong and faithful for the road you take is fraught with danger as is theirs. I believe that your 
brothers will keep you safe, Haldir will see you to them safely.> 
There was more that Galadriel had yet to speak. She knew her adopted mother as well as she knew anyone. 
<You have something to ask. Ask it, Amme.>  
There was a trace of a smile in the image that Galadriel sent to Anaire. <Your thoughts of the ring-bearer, the 
Fellowship that is to accompany him.> 
<Frodo’s heart is as pure as any eldar,> Anaire began, <but the pull of the One Ring is strong. His heart is still 
stronger. I believe he can bear it better than any. Aragorn of all men has the strength of heart to keep the faith 
of men. Legolas, the elf Prince, is the right representative of elves, noble and honorable. Gandalf will hold the 
Fellowship together with his wisdom and his experience. Gimli, the dwarf envoy, is quick to react and has the will 
to make the journey. The four hobbits have no experience, but their bravery and their loyalty will serve them yet. 
Boromir of Gondor concerns me most for his heart may sway most easily. The Nine are idealistic, that will 
preserve their hope. That is what they most need, hope.> 
<Anaire, my Fanyarelisse let your soul guide you safely back to me.> 
~ 
When the horses were ready and the rest of the group from Lothlorien were prepared, they were sent off to catch 
Elladan and Elrohir. Before they left, Elrond and Arwen bid them a special good bye. What was most touching was 
the parting between the sworn sisters. Their embrace was heartwarming and tender, filled with the filial love they 
shared. At last it was time to go and Anaire mounted the gentle mare that she rode for the mare was easy to 
ride.  
The group was about to depart when a strong voice called out, “Anaire of Lothlorien!” She stopped and glanced 
back, taken by surprise when she saw the Prince of Mirkwood running toward her. He knew that she remembered 
him not, what was he doing then? She soon found out when he placed a small package into her open hands. “For 
you on your trip, may this help you.”  
She was astonished by his audacity for she had thought him to be reserved. But she took the letter and put it 
safely into her bag. Later when there was time, she would read it. There was no time now. With all haste, the 
group departed from Rivendell. Even with their speed, it took two days before they caught up to the twins of 
Elrond.  
Once they reached the group of three that Elrond had sent from Imladris to track the nine dark riders, Haldir 
dismounted off his stallion, leading his horse to her. “I want you to take my horse,” he told her. Before she was 
able to protest, he pulled her off her sweet mare and helped her onto his stallion. “Telpetal won’t let you fall, he 
won’t leave you behind. He is fleeter than your mare and more able to handle the hardships of the travel. He will 
not fail you, will you?”  
The stallion snorted, shaking his grey mane and stared at Haldir as he helped Anaire up onto the horse. “Watch 
over her, Telpetal, guard her as you would I. Protect Istelile no matter what. I trust in you.” The horse bowed his 
regal head for what Haldir spoke he would do. “Farewell, Anaire Galadhriel, my Istelile, let Elentari keep you safe. 
I leave her in your hands, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, and yours, Glorfindel.”  
They nodded, they would protect her with their lives if it was called upon for them to do. <Farewell, Haldir.> 
Turning back the road they had taken, Haldir led the Galadhrim group to the direction of their home. If he looked 
back he was frightened that his resolve and his determination to do what was called for him to do might fail. So 
he pushed himself, forced himself to leave her behind to the mercy of whatever danger that brewed. It was the 
first time they had parted ways, since they had first met. 
The Rivendell group waited until the Lothlorien group had faded away before they urged their horses and hers 
back to the pursuit of the Nazgul. The riders were close, within riding distance. It was not to be long before they 
caught the nine dark riders and made sure that they delayed them long enough to give the Fellowship enough of 
a head start on their mission. For in a few days, the Fellowship of the Ring would set out on their deadly journey. 
 ~ 
6: Deepening the Desperation (February 14, 2003 to February 16, 2003) 
.III. .3018. 
It was strange to see her after all these years and have her not remember him at all when she had haunted him. 
He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to give her the package filled with precious herbs that had miraculous 
healing properties. But if she was going to chase after the Nazgul, it’d be good for her to have those herbs. For 
some reason since she spoken in his mind, he had not been able to forget her voice.  
“You look lost in thought,” Arwen observed, approaching him from behind. “I did not know that you knew her,” 
she began, trying to find out how Legolas knew her oselle. “You seem to know her well though to give her a 
departing gift.”  
“She came to Mirkwood many years ago,” he answered her curiosity. “I do not know why but the memory of her 
is as strong as ever.”  
“I remember,” she responded. “It was after I came to Lothlorien that she went.”  
“She spoke to me,” he murmured, “in my mind.”  
Arwen stared at him with astonishment and disbelief. “I am surprised that she did,” she vocalized. “For she did 
not speak to me until twenty years after she returned from Mirkwood. The trip was especially traumatic for her 
we later discovered.”  
“The orc attack...” 
Again he stunned her with what he knew. “Yes, it brought back her memories of her torture that the orcs had 
made her suffer through. That is how she came by her scar, scars on her body and her heart, her very soul. We 
did not know how badly the trip had shaken her for a while, but one night she broke down in wracking sobs that 
came from the depths of her soul. It was then that she opened up to Galadriel all her inner misery. It was then 
she started to call my grandparents amme and adar. It was then she truly became their daughter.”  
His blue eyes were filled with concern as he stared into her dark eyes carefully. It was not that he didn’t believe 
her for when he had first seen the Silver Lady, he had been struck by the pain he sensed about her. The root of 
turmoil in her went very deep, residing so far within her that it was almost impossible to see that she was indeed 
hurting, that she was in pain. It was only when she had spoken to him that he’d felt a feel of the ache inside of 
her.  
It was not until after the vision she had passed to his father and once his father had related the full portentous 
details of the prophecy that he understood what she had had to bear. She may have been called the Silver Lady, 
but she appeared to be no older than a child. At that time, he would not have been ready to be burden with the 
weight that the Lady of Light had placed upon her shoulders. How did one as fragile as she carry that weight?  
“She does not remember me, but since she has spoken to me I have felt a connection to her.”  
~ 
The preparations were at hand. The Council had decided. The Fellowship was to depart as soon as the path was 
clear, when the road was made safe. He counted on his sons to make it secure, to make it possible for the 
Fellowship to succeed in a task impossible to bear but bear it they must for the good of all the free folk. It was 
time to speak to Galadriel about Anaire. For what he had seen and known, Anaire thought her fate was go to, yet 
Galadriel had told him an opposing story. He needed to seek out why.  
<Galadriel,> Elrond greeted, <I have asked Anaire to pursue with Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel the path of the 
Nazgul, why is that you changed your mind? Was she not ready? For Haldir does not believe her to be ready.> 
<It is too late to back down,> Galadriel responded. <No one can prepare for the task she has, and Haldir will 
never think his student will be ready. It is the same feeling I have, but I have to let her go. There was no change 
in mind, the path taken is the path foreseen.> Elrond suddenly felt his mother-in-law’s piercing gaze upon him. 
<Arwen has told me of her love of Aragorn, your Estel. Her love for Estel is as deep as yours for Celebrian, and it 
cannot be stopped. Give your blessing and it will relieve both of your hearts. Now is not the time to be divided.> 
<What you speak of is true but have you truly let Anaire go? You were the one who counseled me that the path 
of the One Ring is not hers to take. She was ready to go, I had to prevent her from joining. Have you really let 
her go?> 
<It is not her time yet,> Galadriel answered. <Right now it is time for her to go with her sons and stop the black 
riders of Sauron. It is not her burden to bear yet. Things change, fates twist. One day it may be her destiny to 
journey with them, until then she will not.> 
<You will not let her go,> Elrond said knowingly. <You did not want to let Celebrian go even though she needed 
desperately to leave. She is as real of a daughter to you as if she were of your own blood. You have invested too 
much in her to let her leave.> 
<I will let her go when the time is right,> she stated firmly. <Do no presume to know my intentions, Lord Elrond 
Peredhil. Do not underestimate me. Do not do that.> 
<You try to speak of Arwen, but truly you speak of Anaire. What troubles you is that you struggle to release your 
Fanyarelisse to her fate. It is what you will have to do. We made the decision to stay; we made the choice to 
sacrifice for the good of all. It cannot be done in half measures, Galadriel!> 
<I know that! I know that it cannot be done in without full efforts. There is a time and place for everything.> 
<You wish to believe that there is!> 
<There is,> she declared with a note of finality. <You keep Arwen from her fate to ride besides Aragorn, son of 
Arathorn, heir to the throne of men, by blood one of yours. Her fate is clearly seen which choice she wants to 
make. It is within the realm of our power to consent to the decision she has made. With Anaire, things are not 
clearly defined as with Arwen.>  
Through the space and the distance, they glared at one another until the calm voice of Celeborn intervened, 
<You each do the same what you tell the other to not do. It is hard to forsake a daughter to a road that leads to 
certain tragedy. But it was decided upon to stay to do what we could, so we must fulfill that promise. For the 
souls of elves are faithful to the end.> 
~ 
The night was tense. The air was cold. The four elves were very near the presence of the Ulairi. If a wrong step 
was made, a sound not planned the attack would come when they did not want it yet to come. For they wanted 
to be the ones that surprised, not the other way around. The pursuers did not wish to become the pursued for 
once pursued by the Nazgul, it only ended once those pursued were banished from existence.  
Elladan, Elrohir, nor Glorfindel needed a respite, but it was clearly visible that Anaire did. She did not say she 
needed rest, but it was obvious that the dark circles underneath her eyes were caused from her weariness. It was 
not in her to say she needed a break from the hard riding, thus Elrohir took it upon himself to call on the 
breather for the horses needed one as well.  
It was with much insistence that the three male elves decided that they all would split the turns with Anaire 
getting the rest she needed through sleep. It was true that elves did not need much sleep, but Anaire had always 
been an unusual elf in that sleep was more of a requirement than external nourishment. Throughout the days 
they had ridden, she had eaten far less than the rest of them. It was the rest of her mind that she needed for 
being awake was a burden to her.  
Elladan was the first to take watch, then Glorfindel, and lastly Elrohir, who kept his ears keenly alert as he stared 
at Anaire, his sister as true as Arwen. He understood what his father had asked him many years ago. That if his 
interest in Anaire was more than that of a friend, of a brother that there was still time to change what was about 
to seal that chance away. He had not protested for he had not known. He now knew. That he was to be her 
brother, her guardian, a protector of hers.  
He was still staring at her when she opened her wise eyes. Her gaze upon him reminded him very much of 
Galadriel’s. It was filled with knowledge and power. <You gaze at me as if you had not seen me for many years 
when you have seen me all these days.> 
“Mela,” he whispered the name he had first given her, “can one ever tire of seeing the beauty within you?”  
There was no emotion, no _expression on her pale and calm face. He did not expect one. But he had not 
predicted that she’d turn away from him and tilt her head to the east direction. Perplexed, he did not understand 
what she was listening for until she informed him, <They are coming. They know we are here.> 
He did not have to wake Elladan nor Glorfindel, both of whom had already been warned by Anaire’s inner voice. 
They leapt to attention while Anaire scaled a tree and stood on the branch as still as any statute, keeping watch 
for the danger that was approaching. Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel readied their bows, waiting for the signal 
from Anaire, whose senses were keener than theirs for her powers of the mind gave her more of an ability to 
concentrate.  
Their bodies tensed when Anaire withdrew an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow. It was then that they 
heard the steady sound of the hooves of the black horses of the Ringwraiths. As the Nazgul drew closer, the 
impending darkness they brought loomed overhead. What Anaire had not expected was that she would feel their 
minds. Their gloom, their betrayal, their desperation, their grimness that was corrupted in them. It seared her 
mind with images that were all together like her own inner darkness.  
She let loose the arrow too soon, giving away their location before she should have if her mind had not betrayed 
the movements she had been taught well by Haldir. To wait, to anticipate, and then to fire upon the enemy when 
they had no further time to react. Her early timing alerted the Ulairi to their position; they were now able to 
launch an attack to the location that she’d given away.  
At least her aim was true, it struck one of the Ringwraiths through the forehead, eliminating that villain for a 
while. Luck was on their sides because the Witch-King, the Lord of the Nazgul was not with the eight black riders. 
Even with three of the very best elven warriors in the lands, victory against the Witch-King was slim at best. But 
still they had gone on with their task because it had been given to them.  
Of the three arrows that were released, only Glorfindel’s was true enough to take out one of the Ulairi. Elrohir’s 
and Elladan’s did impend two of the dark riders, but they did not stop them from launching their attacks. But 
unlike Anaire, they did have not a chance to use their bows once more because the remaining six Nazgul were 
bearing down upon them. Anaire’s last clear shot struck down on more of the foe, but another shot she was not 
allowed for even with her perception, the risk of shooting one of her own was too great.  
One of the Ringwraiths sensed her hesitation and purposely gave her a vindictive gaze before making his attack 
on Elrohir as if he knew that this was the one who meant the most to her here. She nearly found it in her to cry 
out a warning aloud, but Elrohir heard her mental panic. He withdrew his sword and met the attack head on. Yet, 
his odds were grossly unfair. It was three against one, granted two were half impaired but the one that had given 
her that terrible gaze was quite fit and dangerous. If the three had been orcs, it’d be no problem. But they were 
Sauron’s special warriors, men tainted by the rings of power given to them. Once great, now terrible to behold.  
She took a deep breath as she stepped off the branch, dropping lightly to the earth sliding her double knives out. 
Yes, she had been well trained by Haldir, but never had she faced warriors like the Nazgul. The orcs brought back 
her past fears, but these Ringwraiths terrified her with the dark horrible temptations of their insidious minds. Yet, 
she would not allow herself to forget that Elrohir had saved her form her nightmares, she’d not forsake him. She 
was unaware of anything else but her concentration on the Nazgul before her.  
Their blades clashed, she did not falter like she had long ago. But they were far stronger than she, she was afraid 
to look into their minds to predict their next move. She feared what she’d see, what she’d find. Drawing the 
sword over his faceless face, he struck down on her a blow that surely would have crippled if not killed her but for 
Elrohir’s quick action. He blocked the hit meant for her, but the cost was costly as he was stabbed by the other 
Nazgul from behind.  
Despite the wound, he fended off both of them born by the incredible adrenaline pumping in his veins. The terror 
of seeing her being brutally attacked by the Ulairi had been more than he could handle. Soon though, the loss of 
blood and the affect of the poison slowed his movements down. For the sword of the Nazgul were not like normal 
blades. Yes, they cute the living flesh but their edges were corrupted by a potent poison to kill even an elf. It 
seemed time had run out as Elrohir collapsed to his knees, while Anaire desperately tried to defend him.  
Elrohir was overcome by a sense of failure when he saw from his fading vision Glorfindel severing the head of the 
Ulairi that had injured him, Elladan conquering the other, and even Anaire defeating the last. He may have failed 
to protect his Mela, but his brother and his companion had not--- she was even able to defend herself. It was 
with relief that he felt the darkness overtake him. She was safe, safe for the meantime.  
He blacked out before he heard her halting, anguished whisper, “El...el...” But Elladan and Glorfindel heard, their 
eyes widening with their shared shock. But they didn’t say anything as her agonized mind cried out, <Find 
something to help him! Help him!>  
It was as they were searching through their bags that Elladan noticed the package that he remembered Legolas 
thrusting into Anaire’s hands. When he opened the package, he found what the wood elves fondly called 
mirkweed, but it’s healing properties were well known, considered extraordinary. They certainly needed a miracle 
and this wild plant surely had the properties that made up for their lack of healing ability. The letter that was 
wrapped around the outer package was in Legolas’s firm script: Hope that this helps whatever troubles you 
encounter, Anaire.  
Many days were spent waiting for Elrohir to sway whatever direction. Whenever Elladan and Glorfindel were 
about to give up hope, there’d be a sign that again gave them a slim hope that he’d awaken. Mirkweed had 
rather strange healing power, but they did not think it was only the plant that was healing Elrohir. It didn’t hurt 
that Anaire was trying to speak to get him to wake up for it was a well known myth that the voice could draw the 
soul back into the body of the about to be departed.  
“El...ro...hir,” she murmured brokenly, “not... your... time.” Words were difficult for her. Her voice had grown use 
to disuse; she found it hard to speak more than a word at time. If it was true, if her voice could bring him back 
she’d try. She owed him her life for he was the one that had given it back to her. He was the one that had drawn 
her out of the chaos that had consumed her. <Please, Elrohir,> she begged him mentally, <come back to me.> 
The herbs in the package that Legolas had thrust into her hands definitely played a part, her dear brother would 
have passed to the Halls of Mandos without them. But they weren’t enough to bring him back, but her voice was 
eventually able to reach him. One night when Elladan and Glorfindel were resting, Elrohir’s eyes fluttered open 
with painstaking effort.  
If there had been light, his eyes would not have been able to bear it for he had grown accustomed to the 
blackness he’d nearly fallen in. But it was already dark when he reopened his eyes to the world as hard as it had 
been for the soft and beautiful voice that spoke to him had been the only sweetness in the darkness. It was not a 
dream. She was speaking to him. “Elrohir,” she whispered his name lyrically, the only word she said well for she 
had repeated his name over and over in hopes of bringing him back. “Elrohir...” <Please come back.> 
“I am back,” he answered hoarsely. He managed a glimmer of a smile, a smile more of a shadow of himself 
rather than a true smile that he was capable of. “Truly,” he reassured when her eyes filled with an emotion of 
disbelief then a light that warmed his cold heart, “I never left.”  
Something broke in her, the emotions that had been locked deep within her spilled out as she wept with joy that 
he was okay, that the one that had saved her had not died saving her again. She owed him a debt that never 
could be repaid for how did one repay someone that had saved them not once but twice? In her own way, she did 
not fear the unknown. It was unknown though still less frightening than what she had known. She almost 
regretted not passing away those many years ago. But then again she had Celeborn and Galadriel, Arwen and 
Elrond, lastly Elrohir and Haldir. For them, life was worth the living.  
Elrohir’s recovery was terribly slow, but at least he was recovering. He may have been weak, but the path to 
catch the Nazgul had led them close to Lothlorien. They didn’t even have to find the Galadhrim guard, the Lorien 
group found them. At the front of the guard was Haldir, who himself took the injured Elrohir with all haste back 
to the sacred citadel where his Lady would watch over her grandchild, her favored Elrohir.  
~ 
The awful feeling of foreboding passed over Galadriel as she slumped back against Celeborn, her worries and her 
anxieties placing great strain upon her body. “They are safe,” she declared. “Haldir has Elrohir and they are riding 
ahead of the rest back. They are safe.”  
The tension within Celeborn’s body was released as he heard her words for he had been as nerve wracked as she 
was, if not more so. It had been days since Galadriel’s sudden unmistakable revelation of what was occurring 
within the vicinity of Celebrian’s assault. Days that she had sent Haldir and the Galadhrim guard searching for her 
adopted daughter. Everything was okay. Nothing was lost.  
“It lightens my heart to hear of that,” Celeborn honestly confessed. “But you must rest,” he commanded, not 
requesting. “I will take care of Elrohir when he arrives. Do not fear, you need some sleep as minimal as you 
require for you have not slept in the days since your vision. Please, Galadriel.”  
She nodded solemnly, allowing her husband to guide her to her chambers. But once he left her alone, she found 
she was not able to close her eyes. She feared if she rested that the worst would happen without her knowing. So 
she let the tension leave her body, but she did not allow her mind to relax not even for a moment. She had told 
Celeborn only as much as she thought he was able to handle.  
She did not feel wrong for confiding in him her worst fears when those very same fears were hardly any 
discernible image. But what she thought, what her instinct told her was not good. She found that her intuition 
was rarely wrong, this time she hoped that it was. In the back of her mind, she did not think her speculation was 
inaccurate, but perhaps given time and action, that supposition possibly could change.  
~ 
“They are leaving,” Arwen remarked wistfully, her gaze fully concentrated on her beloved Elessar. “May Elbereth 
guide them wisely with the light she has shone on them thus far.”  
Elrond nodded for the hope of Middle Earth resided with these nine companions, this gathering of all the good 
races left. It was not their leaving that drew his most urgent attention, but instead it was the absence of 
Celebrian’s necklace around Arwen’s neck. It was the very same pendant that Arwen had been insisted be made 
for Anaire when they became sworn sisters. Not once since Elladan and Elrohir brought it back from Lothlorien 
had the Evenstar ever left her neck, yet now it was gone.  
“You gave it to Estel,” he stated perceptively. He knew his daughter better than all the others elves in Rivendell. 
After all, she was his daughter. “So you have made your choice.” Her eyes never wavered from the fading form 
of her lover. “Are you sure of it? Once it is made there is no turning back. My daughter, you have lived nearly 
three thousand years, are you ready to end it? Time has meant nothing to you, and yet to take this path that you 
are about to decide will bring more changes than that of time.” 
“I know that,” she responded softly. “But I would rather spend one lifetime, one mortal lifetime with the love of 
my life, with my Elessar than to spend one eternity, one infinity without having known the very trueness of an 
undying love.” Her eyes were unblinking, unbending. “I will not change my mind. I am his.”  
A sorrow passed over Elrond’s reserved face for his daughter was much like him. “It is not your life, your soul 
that I worry of,” he began, “but how terrible it will be for you to be amongst those who have no true bearing on 
the essence of life. Estel is different than other men, he has grown up as an elf. You will find that other men do 
not have his strength of character, his noble heart.”  
“Then he will revive it,” she stated with absolute certainty and confidence. “Then he will restore it. Why did you 
stay, Adar if you do not believe that there is still hope in the inherent goodness that is in man? Why did you stay, 
Ada if you do not think that they can be what we have always wished them to be?”  
“It is because I wish to believe that there is,” Elrond declared. “It is because I want to think that there is. But I 
am realistic, I do not let my hopes rise above what can be expected. Men have already failed when failure was 
not an option. It is because of them that this desperation of all the races is occurring, and yet it is in men that 
our hope lies now.”  
~ 
Author’s Note: Feedback is GOLDEN! It makes me think so much. The letter was actually a mistake, it was 
switched to a package b/c I couldn’t think of what Legolas would give, so I wrote a note instead = ). I guess you 
guys noticed that since you’ve already read it. Sorry! Any mistakes left in the story means my beta-reader didn’t 
catch them. Check out her story, it’s in my favorites and it’s good: Sarlisse! Keep reviewing, reviews make me 
happy and I write more!