Title: In Times Like These 
Author: Yih 
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my “OC.”  
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All those that review almost every chapter, or every chapter: I COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!  
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Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! 
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7: Journeying Forward (February 17, 2003 to February 19, 2003) 
.III. .2018. 
Above the ground, she rested on the branch of her favorite mallorn. She had done this for the longest time, 
whenever she needed to retreat to think about things, she came to this spot. Her mind was instantly free to recall 
the last conversation that Elrohir and she had had before he had left to return to Imladris. Once Elrond had heard 
his sons were safe, he immediately began planning for them another task in which to aid the Fellowship.  
“Anaire,” Elrohir had said, “it was your voice that brought me out of the place without light back into the light. 
Since I have awoken, you have not spoken. Why are you afraid to use your beautiful voice?”  
It wasn’t like she hadn’t ignored questions she hadn’t wanted to answer before. This time was different for he 
had saved her and this was all he wanted in return, an answer. <In this way,> she began, < that I speak, it is 
the same.> 
“But it is not,” he responded. “It is not the same, perhaps similar yet not the same. I know it is your nightmares 
that closed your voice and muted you. I know that you relive the pain whenever you confront the darkness. And I 
know you have the strength to do this, thus you have the power to use your voice because not using it is a gift 
that is wasted. That only satisfies the darkness.”  
For the longest time, they stared at each other before Elrohir made his required departure. “I do not know when I 
will see you again, muinthell nin. Keep safe and keep my words in your mind,” he whispered softly, bending down 
to kiss her forehead. “I will see you again. Im wad.”  
<Goodbye,> she said before taking a deep trembling breath, “Elrohir.”  
The smile that graced his face, she’d always remember. As she reflected on it now, a glimmer of a smile 
appeared on her own face. Yet, it faded quickly because she still had not done what his words urged her to do. 
Galadriel and Celeborn knew she had spoken aloud, but to them she had not yet let hear her physical voice. Her 
brother understood her fears truly for when she had cried out against the orcs for torturing her, they had only 
struck her more. It had not been long after that she muted her and not long after that, she had shut her mind 
completely off. It was only with the detachment of body and mind that she had been able to survive.  
From below she was distracted by Haldir’s distinctive voice, “You have not forgotten about practice have you, 
Anaire?”  
She shook her head. She had not forgotten. An amusing thought crossed her mind: as if Haldir would let her 
forget. Standing straight up on the branch, she paused before she leapt off of it. She heard him catch his breath 
as he always did when she did that particular stunt. She didn’t know why; she’d never gotten hurt doing it. The 
height she’d fallen from wasn’t nearly as high as she normally jump from anyhow. But Haldir was Haldir.  
“You still have to improve your use with the sword,” he remarked, drawing his blade out. “You wield it like it 
weighs a score more than it should. It is not wrong to handle it with two hands if you need to. You must not allow 
the sword to slow you down as much as it does. Wielding this blade is much different than your knives, but you 
treat it as if it were entirely foreign.”  
<I am never going to be very skilled at this,> she said resignedly, not sounding like her usual quietly determined 
self. <It feels awkward.> She griped the sword firmly, ready whenever Haldir decided to start his attack. <I am 
ready when you are, Haldir.> 
He didn’t give her a warning; he never did. As he told her pointedly, the enemy was not going to give her a 
forewarning of their attack--- they’d just attack. Like usual, she was able to fend off his assault by focusing hard 
on what move he’d make when. But as normal, she tired and grew weary until even knowing what he was going 
to do didn’t help. She knew he made all these sweeping moves to tire her out, and it always worked. It wasn’t 
like she couldn’t meet him edge to edge, she did have to protect herself. There was no other way but to do what 
he forced her to do.  
“Are you trying?” he goaded. “Because to me you are not.” It brought a spark in her that was only momentary. It 
was all too soon when he had his sword against her neck, his blade resting on her vulnerable flesh. “That ended 
too fast,” he admonished. “You normally last far longer than what you have this morning.”  
Many elves would think Haldir was overly harsh and pushed her too hard, but it was for her own good. If he 
hadn’t prepared her as he had, she wouldn’t have been able to hold out against the Ulairi for as long as she had. 
If she had not, she and Elrohir would have perished. When she decided to take up a weapon again, she had 
vowed to herself to be able to be able to protect herself by herself.  
“We have no more time,” Haldir declared, sheathing his sword back into his scabbard. “Lady Galadriel told me to 
inform you to meet her at the Mirror. I will see you when you are through, Istelile.”  
She wanted to speak to him, but it was not yet the time. Not quite yet. <You know where I will be after I see 
amme.> He knew, she’d be near her mallorn somewhere. He watched her go with a heavy heart, not because 
she was not ready--- she was ready. He was not sure he was ready to watch her go without him to guard over 
her. Letting her leave once was difficult enough.  
~ 
From the deepest chasms of Moria sprang a balrog, a demon of the ancient world, determined to stop the 
Fellowship, unwavering as it stood ready to fight its fight. But it was not going to be easy for Gandalf was not 
going to let it be easy for the balrog. Once everyone was safely across the bridge, he made his stand, placing 
himself between the balrog and the Fellowship.  
“You cannot pass,” Gandalf declared.  
From the safety of the other side, Frodo cried out, “Gandalf!”  
A flame spread its intense wave across the balrog. “I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! 
Dark fire shall not avail you, flame of Udun!”  
The balrog merely drew a flamign sword and swung it at Gandalf, who blocked it swiftly with his staff. “Go back 
to the shadow! You shall not pass!”  
To emphasize this grandiose statement, he slammed his staff into the ground, a flash of brilliant white light swept 
the balrog back. But it did not take the warning, for it stepped onto the bridge that quickly gave away. The balrog 
fell, managing to draw its whip of fire, that catches Gandalf’s ankle when victory and triumph is near, to pull him 
down to the depressing depths. For a moment, the wizard held the edge, however brief.  
“Fly, you fools!” Those last words, those lost words were all that were left as Gandalf followed his nemesis into 
the fiery abyss. 
~ 
Time was fading. Time was quickening. Time was coming. It was going to be soon. It was approaching swiftly. 
There was no time to waste. Still, in Lothlorien there was a bewildering peace that belied the unsteadiness of 
what was soon to be. For she had seen, she had witnessed what tragedy had already taken place.  
“Come closer,” Galadriel urged when she heard the soft footsteps of her Fanyarelisse. “Look into the Mirror. It 
has something it wants to show you.”  
Once she reached Galadriel’s side, she peered onto the silver surface of the Mirror, watching as Galadriel poured 
more water to swirl the potent images that were beginning to appear. Once the ripples smoothed away, the 
images sharpened and she saw the mourning faces of the Fellowship. All were filled with sorrow, but Frodo’s was 
the most poignant. The Mirror, sensing her interest, drew closer to the hobbit until Anaire saw in the reflection of 
Frodo’s eyes--- Gandalf, falling after battling the balrog.  
The consequences she understood were grave for Gandalf had been the one with the mindset to keep the focus 
and the faith. He was the one that kept the Fellowship together and strong. With him gone, it rested as her eyes 
did on Aragorn. As had been predicted and foreseen that his War of the Ring would be won only by the valor of 
men. It was only in men did even a show of a remained.  
<So you have seen, so you have witnessed,> Galadriel began, <Mithrandir’s fall was unfortunate, his loss will be 
hard for all the companions, especially Frodo who needs all the strength he has. Yet, Aragorn has risen as men 
will do in times of need to be great. He is reaching there, he is fulfilling the mark of his birth as the heir to the 
throne of men. Yet, Frodo too has overcome the trials and grown above all other hobbit kind by his deeds. These 
two will see it through.> 
There was silence as another image replaced what had already come to pass. This, Anaire knew, was what 
possibly may be. Her eyes were filled with the impressions of suffering, of torture, of agony, of blood and of 
death. That was to be the end if Sauron won the One Ring back. <You know what you must do,> Galadriel’s 
knowing voice filled her head, <do you not?> 
She did not. Everything was changing rapidly, what might be the one course one day was not the direction to 
choose the next. She did not know her path until the day arrived that she had to choose. This day was not quite 
the day where she needed to decide. Doubts plauged her mind because she was not sure of herself. “I do not 
know yet,” she said aloud without truly realized it until she saw the astonishment on Galadriel’s face. <Amme?> 
“I had heard that your voice had called Elrohir back to us,” she responded. “So you speak with your voice, that is 
good. You are finally recovering, are you not? It has taken much time, but this is the time when wholeness is 
needed. The end has begun. What end will it be?”  
~ 
They had departed Moria. They had left it’s dark and tainted caves. Corrupted by the orcs, stained by the blood of 
the dwarves, and yet there was no joy in the leaving. They had left one of their own behind; Gandalf had 
remained by the virtue of protecting all of them. If it was not for Gandalf, they would not have made it out of 
Moria.  
Frodo’s decision was haunting him. Maybe, it would have been wiser to take the Pass of Rohan, even if it did pass 
too close to Isengard. The choice had been his to make. There was no taking it back, but that still did not keep it 
from tormenting his mind. It was his choice; it was his decision that had doomed Gandalf. To live with that 
burden, however long it may be, was crushing.  
“Legolas, get them up!” Aragorn declared, his eyes already surveying the land to choose the path to take to get 
them to their destination as quickly as possible.  
Boromir, feeling sympathy for the pain apparent in the hobbits, cried out, “Give them a moment, for pity’s sake!” 
 
“By nightfall these hills will be crawling with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Gimli, Legolas, get 
them up! On your feet, Sam. Frodo?”  
It was too much, this weight that he must bear. But bear it he must, that didn’t prevent the tears that were 
threatening to spill, that did fall from his sorrow filled eyes. There was a great pain. There was a great sorrow. 
Yet, continue they must. It was what Gandalf would have wanted.  
~ 
She stood next to the mallorn, her silver hair cascading around her willowy form whenever the wind decided to 
blow around her. She made a lovely sight against the impending shadows, a ray of light. He took his time 
approaching her, careful not to make a sound until he was right behind her so that she did not know he was. 
Whenever she grew reflective, it was easy to surprise her.  
Raising his hands up, he covered her eyes with his palms. She did not move, and he did not say anything. There 
was no doubt to Anaire who it was. No one dared to come to her like that, only Haldir--- only he dared. <Haldir,> 
she murmured, <trying to surprise me?> 
“To keep you on your toes,” he explained. “It is not good to become that far gone in your thoughts that you are 
not even ready for an enemy to spring on you from behind unexpectedly.”  
<I am fine when I know I must be aware,> she responded. <Do not be anxious, have I not proven I can 
concentrate when I have been on the Guard with you?> 
He nodded. She had, which was why he was here. He had something he wanted to ask of her. “Yes, you have 
proven your worth. Your eyes and your ears are far keener than most elves. While you are here Anaire, however 
long that may be, I ask of you to rejoin the Guard with me.”  
She slowly turned to face him, her grey eyes gazing deeply into his blue eyes. Before Celeborn had asked Haldir 
to let her go with him, which was why Haldir had prepared her and asked her. Her adar was not behind this, 
Haldir wanted her by his side. It was an honor for he chose only the best. <What you ask, I will do.> 
The grin on his face lightened up his usually stern features. She was momentarily taken back by the superfluous 
emotion coming from him. Like her, he was vigilant in keeping his face like a statue. She often heard his two 
younger brothers teasing him playfully about that. Haldir never reprimanded his younger siblings, treating them 
to the silence treatment that forced them to change the subject matter rather quickly.  
“I am glad that you will return to the Guard, others will be too.”  
~ 
The distance of the silver trees had been swallowed by their steady progress. The Fellowship were amid the 
strangely sacred mellyrn, feeling edgy yet not afraid. It was a distinctive emotion, though it was not alarming. 
For there was so much beauty, so much splendor to behold that it was simply overwhelming.  
“Stay close, young hobbits,” Gimli warned. “They say a great sorceress lives here, an elf-witch of terrible power. 
All those who look upon her fall under her spell, and are never seen again.”  
From still afar, Galadriel saw their coming. <Frodo,> she thought as she peered at their progress in her Mirror, 
<your coming is as the footsteps of doom. You bring a great evil here, Ringbearer.> 
“Well, this is one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily!” Gimli exclaimed. “I have the eyes of a hawk, and the ears 
of a fox!”  
The Galadhrim elves smiled to themselves briefly before they answered the signal that Haldir had given them, 
drawing their bows and coming into view. Ever since the Fellowship had entered into the Golden Woods, they had 
been following carefully behind. Trailing them to make sure that their intent was not to disturb, that all they 
sought was passage. In such unsteady times, one could never be sure.  
At the very front of the group, Haldir stood proudly, his golden strands gleaming in the weak sunlight. “The dwarf 
breathes so loudly we could have shot in the dark,” the March Warden declared easily for only Legolas had been 
fast enough to aim his arrow at the archer that was aiming at him. 
“Haldir of Lorien,” Aragorn declared, “we have come for help. We need your protection.”  
The tension in the air was unbearable as the elves stared at the Fellowship with a calm that was unnerving. What 
broke the pressure was when the archer that had his bow pointed at Legolas lowered it and pulled back his hood. 
The silvery tresses of Istelile, Lorien’s silver star, blew around as the wind picked up. When Legolas saw who it 
was, he also dropped his bow. “I did not know it was you.” He was about to kneel before her, but she prevented 
him from doing so.  
“How does Legolas know her?” Gimli asked. “How does...” The dwarf’s voice trailed off as the greater majority of 
the Galadhrim bows pointed toward him.  
To Legolas’s shock, she knelt down before him and placed his hand on her heart before she released his hand. 
<Thank you, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood.> 
“For what?” he inquired.  
<The herbs that you have me,> she answered simply. <It saved my brother’s life. For that, Legolas Greenleaf, I 
thank you.> After she had told him thus, she rose up and gazed directly at Haldir. <It is okay, Haldir. They are 
the Fellowship of the Ring. Safe passage, we must give to them.> Shifting her face to Aragorn, she welcomed 
him, <Mae govannen, Estel.> Her eyes shone when she saw the evenstar at the hollow of his throat. <You wear 
it well.> (You are welcomed here) 
After Haldir gestured for them to do as their Istelile had done, the Galadhrims lowered their bows, but with a 
moment’s warning they were ready to aim again. Haldir’s eyes rested upon Gimli, and he said bluntly, “You have 
entered the realm of the Lady of the Golden Woods. You cannot go back. Come. She is waiting. But none of 
dwarven kind has ever laid eyes on the majesty of Lorien. None shall. The dwarf must be blindfolded.”  
One of the elven guard stepped forward with a black cloth, prepared to blind the dwarf’s eyes, but Gimli avoided 
the Galadhrim deftly and declared with a furious tone, “I will not stand such treatment by elves!”  
Aragorn stepped in before the elves and Gimli truly lost their tempers. “We will all wear the blindfolds.”  
She had not been paying attention to what was going on around her, for her grey eyes had been caught by 
Frodo, the young hobbit that carried the weight of the world. In his eyes, she saw his pain, for it was the very 
same pain she had once suffered through herself. When this journey was over, when the task was seen through, 
she did not think even the most brilliant of stars could ever cast out the darkness that was in his heart now. This 
would stay with him.  
Her eyes shifted when she caught Aragorn’s statement to Legolas, noticing his visible disappointment in missing 
the spectacular beauty of Lothlorien. After all, all elves once should see the loveliness that was Lorien. Yes, 
Imladris and Mirkwood were beautiful in their own way, but Lothlorien was different--- it was ruled by the hand of 
a Lady. She was partial, yet she believed it was the most beautiful of all the elven strongholds.  
<I owe Legolas,> she told Haldir. <In the package he gave, there was mirkweed. It was what saved Elrohir. It is 
naked to the eye that he desires to see Lothlorien.> 
“It is up to you, Istelile.”  
<Remove his blindfold.> 
“Then you can, I will not stop you.”  
The Fellowship was no doubt wondering who Haldir was speaking to, but the Galadhrim knew. They had grown 
use the one sided conversations. They knew not to ask, for they’d not be answered. It was beginning to darken, 
so the elves started to move the Fellowship forward when Anaire placed her hands on Legolas’s face. She gently 
caressed him, letting him know it was a friend not foe. From her touch, she felt the tension in his lean muscular 
body. Patiently, she waited until he relaxed before she undid the cloth.  
Once she did that, he whirled around to confront her, grabbing her by the wrists. When he saw who it was, he 
dropped his hold in her immediately, but his wondering gaze did not stop searching her eyes for an answer. <You 
saved my brother,> she explained. <It is a small things for me to grant for what you have given. It is only this 
that I can offer in return.> 
His heart pounded wildly because of the close proximity she was to him. If he moved forward a little, they’d be 
touching again. But he didn’t, and she moved the hood back onto her solemn face before she ran lightly to the 
front of the group. He watched her featherlike movements as she easily surged to Haldir’s side. From the close 
contact between them, he wondered what sort of relationship the two of them shared.  
There was relief in Haldir’s mind when his Istelile was once again by his side. When he had seen Legolas grab 
Anaire’s wrist, he’d had to control the urge to interrupt them. For he knew that the Mirkwood Prince had not 
meant to do what he had done. It’d been an unwitting move born from the dangerous journey he’d partaken in. 
Once he realized who it was, he’d released his hold swiftly. That instinctive move was what Haldir wanted 
ingrained into Anaire, but as of yet, he’d had no luck.  
The overpowering emotions from Haldir’s and Legolas’s mind made it difficult for her not to peek into their 
consciousness. But she did not allow herself the temptation, since she had promised Galadriel not to take 
advantage of the minds of those that were friends unless given permission. Only in time of need did she not need 
consent. But it was hard not to take one glance, to dip in for a minute. She sighed and focused on the mellyrn 
around her, anything but the lure of reading open minds.  
~ 
Their arrival was expected. It was the reason Galadriel had specifically chosen Haldir’s guard to greet them. She 
had a feeling that Anaire knew what was coming, but she had not asked any questions. She never did. She did 
what she was told like a good child did. But the time was coming when she could no longer decide the path for 
her Fanyarelisse anymore. That she’d have to decide on her own. No one could make the decision for her. Not 
even Galadriel.   
 
 8: The Way Will Leads(February 20, 2003 to February 22, 2003) 
Standing before the entering Fellowship were the golden couple of Celeborn and Galadriel. To Galadriel’s 
immediate right was Anaire, cloaked and hidden. To Celeborn’s left was Haldir, tall and strong. “Eight there are 
there, but nine there were set out from Rivendell,” Celeborn noted. “Where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak 
with him.”  
Galadriel spoke for the words of the Fellowship could not find a voice, “He is fallen into the shadow.” She gazed 
intensely at all. “The quest stands on the edge of a knife, stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.” Her 
eyes settled on Frodo and Sam. “Yet hope remains as long as company is true. Do not let your hearts be 
troubled. Go now, and rest, for you are weary with toil and much sorrow. Tonight you shall rest in peace.”  
Despite that her eyes were veiled, Anaire saw all. She saw the worry in Boromir’s eyes; she saw the 
astonishment in Gimli’s; she saw the respect in Estel’s; she saw the conflict in Frodo’s; she saw the hope in 
Legolas’s. Everything was fine as long as one remained to carry that fading light, that dimming hope. It was not 
only in Legolas, she saw the very same glow in Sam, Frodo’s companion. In him, there was a greatness not yet 
found. At the end, she thought that his heart was to be tested to a like degree as Frodo’s.  
<Welcome, Frodo of the Shire,> Galadriel greeted, <one who has seen the Eye.> 
~ 
The lament of Mithrandir had begun. The lyrical voices of the elves rose up in a dirge to remember the passing of 
a great ally and a true friend. They sang of his wisdom, of his deeds, how his heart had never corrupted, how it 
had stayed pure. As the song reached its height, they spoke of how they’d miss him, but that his sacrifice had 
not been in vain for those others that remained would carry the burden on.  
Once this peak was reached, Anaire felt that it was okay to go off on her own path, to think of the route to take. 
Leaning against the mallorn tree that had been her refuge and sanctuary for many years, she thought about what 
Galadriel had told her not too long ago, that she’d know her destiny. She did not know it yet, she only hoped that 
she would realize it soon. Looking up at the stars, she prayed for Elentari to guide her.  
“When you need to think, this is a good place to be,” Legolas commented as he emerged before her hazy eyes. “I 
wanted to thank you for letting me see Lorien’s splendor. I will not forget it, and I am glad I will carry this 
majestic vision onward.”  
He did not expect her to respond for she seemed lost in her own inner world. <How did you know your path?> 
His deep blue eyes gazed intensely into her own. “I know,” he began, “not why only that I must do what my 
heart was urging me to do. I was not conscious of what I was doing. All that I knew that was when I offered 
Frodo my bow, I meant every word. For the purpose, I would have laid down my life.”  
From the flickering emotions on his face, she surmised that he had told her more than he had told anyone of his 
choice. While what he told her was helpful, she needed more--- she needed to know everything. <I know this is 
much to ask from one that you do not know well, but will you open your mind to me?> She held her hand out for 
him to take. <If you take my hand, you allow me the privilege. If you do not, I understand.> 
He took her hand without hesitation and with her surprising strength, she pulled him to her and rested her head 
on his chest as she poured through his available soul. It was a surreal feeling, this departure into his being--- her 
mind was infused with his. She had thought Arwen was the purest soul to glimpse into, but she was vastly 
mistaken for despite the road of shadows he had traveled, his psyche was pure.  
It was his overpowering idealism, his undeniable courage, his faithful heart that had decided his path for him. It 
was not in him to not offer his bow, and though he feared not returning to see his father, Thranduil, he was filled 
with his strength of purpose that wiped all other fears aside. If she had his resolve, she too would know her path. 
He was absolutely certain, perhaps even coming off as condescending at times, after all he was a Prince.  
She understood what had driven him, but though she read other minds and other hearts--- she could not read 
her own. No longer did she peer into his mind but her own. The longer she searched, the less she found. She did 
not know. Maybe she would have an epiphany like he had and simply decide at the moment what way her fate 
pointed. As of yet, the road before her winded and weaved, but was hidden by a haze that blocked her eyes from 
seeing.  
“Haldir is here,” Legolas whispered softly to her.  
It took a while for her to drag her mind from the abyss it had fallen into. When she was aware of her 
surroundings, she found herself clutching Legolas with her arms, holding onto him like she’d been drowning. 
When she released him from her embrace and turned to meet Haldir’s gaze, she saw the intent inquiry. But 
Haldir was not going to openly push her for an answer until she was ready to give it to him, he only pushed her 
with her physical skills.  
There was explaining for her to do because she knew how it looked. It was compromising for her since she rarely 
embraced anyone and then it was usually only Adar that she allowed to hold her. <Good night, Legolas 
Greenleaf,> she said softly before she walked toward Haldir and together they disappeared down the pathway 
they always walked together. Legolas watched them leave with eyes that were enthralled by the link he again felt 
to her.  
Both of them had walked to her flet without saying anything. It was not unusual for they were not the chattering 
type. He was busy thinking of what had happened, she was consumed with thinking of how to explain. <I know 
you are wondering what I was doing with Legolas.> 
“It has crossed my mind many times in the passing minutes, I do not deny.”  
<I wanted to discern his purpose for joining the Fellowship,> she answered his statement. <I had to know how 
he knew to know my own.> 
“Did you find your answer?” he inquired. She shrugged. She had not. He knew better than to pursue. “Do not 
think because the Fellowship is here that I will let you off in the mornings, Istelile. Be early and alert tomorrow 
morning. Be ready.”  
<I do not expect anything less from you.> 
Haldir gave her the special smile that was reserved only for her. “That is good.”  
~ 
She saw her Amme at the Mirror. She was about to go to Galadriel when she noticed Frodo was there. It was not 
the time to disturb even if she wished to hear. She was about to drift away and return when it was time for her to 
confront her choice when her eyes met Galadriel’s. There was acceptance and there was no admonishment, she 
was allowed to stay, to observe as long as she did not disturb. That she’d not do, she’d wait until she could tell 
her Amme what was plaguing her consciousness.  
“Will you look into the mirror?” Galadriel inquired.  
Frodo was not unwise to ask, “What will I see?”  
“Not even the wisest can say, for the Mirror shows many great things,” the Lady of Light murmured. “Things that 
are, things that were, and some things that have not yet come to pass.”  
Anaire saw that he glanced and that what he saw was no good. His face was a mixture of horror and tragedy as 
he saw what was to be. It was indeed the very likeness of what she had seen those many years ago. The terror, 
the destruction, the impending end that was coming--- that was approaching. Her heart went out to him, her soul 
wanted to comfort him. To see such a vision that was filled with such hopeless hopelessness was heartbreaking.  
“I know what it is you have seen, for it is also in my mind,” Galadriel remarked. “It is what will come to pass if 
you should fail. The Fellowship is breaking. Already it has begun. He will try to take the ring. You know of whom I 
speak. One by one, it will destroy all.”  
“If you ask it of me, I will give you the One Ring.”  
“You offer it to me freely,” she noted with a tone of undeniable yearning. “I do not deny that my heart has 
greatly desired this.”  
From where she stood, Anaire watched the dark light cover the Lady of Light with its shadow and its power when 
she touched the One Ring. It was terrible to watch as her adopted mother transformed into a being that was 
above all else filled with the want, the longing to overpower and destroy all that was good. What was even more 
tormenting was to hear the awful beauty of Galadriel’s declaration: 
“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous 
as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!”  
Yet, Anaire knew that this was not her Amme. This was not the Lady of Light; this was not the Lady of Lothlorien. 
This was not Galadriel, her adopted mother. It was with no astonishment that she watched Galadriel back away 
from the One Ring. Age passed over her features, a joylessness of doing right, but Anaire knew that when time 
had passed there was to be no regret in Galadriel.  
“I passed the test,” the Lady of Light whispered. “I will diminish, and go into the west, and remain Galadriel.”  
There was a weariness in Frodo as he cried out, “I cannot do this alone.”  
There was a sympathy in the renewed Galadriel, having chosen the light--- the remaining faith. “You are a 
Ringbearer, Frodo. To bear a ring of power is to be alone. This task was appointed to you, and if you do find a 
way, no one will.”  
“Then, I know what I must do. It’s just I am afraid to do it.”  
A beautiful smile of reassurance and comfort grace Galadriel’s lips. “Even the smallest person can change the 
course of the future.”  
<You have the strength, Frodo Baggins,> Anaire murmured as she appeared from the covering that had 
disguised her presence. <Do not fear the task that you have been given for it was given to you for you are the 
only one that is able to bear it. Trust in faith, trust in hope, it is all that is left to believe in.>  
The hobbit was mesmerized by the silver light that surrounded Anaire as she knelt down before him. There was 
something even more ethereal about her at this moment than Galadriel had been when he had first seen her at 
their welcoming into Lothlorien. This Silver Lady was surreal, out of place in the imminent darkness to come. “I 
will,” he vowed. “I promise.”  
“Rest awaits you, Ringbearer,” Galadriel stated. “Go now and seek the solace that sleep gives.” It was when he 
had made his departure, that she turned her eyes to stare at her Fanyarelisse. <I know what you wish to speak 
to me of, but there is nothing further I can be to guide you. Celeborn wishes to speak to you though, I will get 
him.> 
<Amme?> Galadriel paused from the flight she was taking to fetch her husband so that he may speak to his 
Estelinde. <You say I know, yet I do not. But I will know before the night is over what my course I will take.> 
There was nothing for Galadriel to say to her student, to her only remaining daughter.  
She did not have to wait long for Celeborn. It was if when she lifted her head, he was--- the one she had allowed 
to be closest to her physical, and perhaps even mentally. It was a toss up in the mind, who truly was closest to 
her, was it Arwen? Galadriel? or Him? In intimate affection, it was him that she had turned to when Elrohir had 
left her all those many years ago. In him, she found her comfort. It was the same now as it was then as she ran 
into his open arms. <Adar.> 
“Estelinde,” he whispered tenderly, he still called her by the name he had chosen when they were alone, 
“Galadriel has told me that you do not know the way to go, that you are lost in an endless abyss with no idea of 
which direction to face. If there is indecision, you do not need to make a decision. Sometimes, Galadriel pushes 
when patience is necessary. If this is such a time, you must let me know.”  
She rested her head against the shoulder that he offered, allowing him to stroke her long flowing silver strands. 
Even if Amme knew her better, it was Adar that she trusted the most. Maybe it was that he accepted her for who 
she was without knowing who she really was. In Galadriel, she sensed still that the Lady was trying to find her 
Celebrian in her. It was an unconscious action that had faded with time but still managed to be vaguely present.  
<Adar,> she responded, <what plagues my heart is that I want to know my will, but yet I am afraid of at the 
same time. What if the road I choose is not the one that I am meant to follow? What if the destiny I see is not 
the fate that is foreseen?>  
“Nothing chosen is ever wrong,” Celeborn answered, caressing her comfortingly. “There are better decisions and 
there are choices that are not so wise, but none is ever wrong. If it brings regret, that is tragic. For one is never 
to look back and wonder what might be, there is the present and the future. One cannot change what has already 
passed. If you are not ready, do not look ahead, merely look at what path the present has for you. It is never 
wrong to trust your heart.”  
He drew away from his adopted daughter and brushed a kiss on her forehead. <Thank you, Adar. Your words of 
wisdom have lightened the weight that is bearing down on my heart. I will not regret the way my will leads me, I 
will rely on my heart.> 
“Anaire,” he murmured, “my Estelinde, whenever times grow dark and the light fades into oblivion, remember 
that your voice has always, even with no voice, been uplifting.”  
“Adar,” she whispered softly, wanting him to hear her true voice, the voice she had lost and found in tragedy. 
<You are too good to me.> 
He shook his head, not surprised that she had spoken. He had heard Elrohir’s story, he had been told of what had 
been spoken to Galadriel. It nevertheless touched him. It was not everyday a child muted by anguish regained 
enough of what once was to again speak. It was hard for her he knew, but it gladdened his heart to hear her 
speak to him. “I only wish that I could hideaway all the pain that is going to surround us from you.”  
<You cannot, Adar,> she responded. <No one can hide, not anymore. The decision made must be followed 
through. I will go where my heart leads me. I know what I must do. I am not afraid any longer. There are no 
regrets if tomorrow is to come. You are right. There is the present and the future, one cannot change what has 
already been.> 
“Yes, there is only this present and that future, the future that must be saved from darkness. The present is filled 
with shadows,” Celeborn observed. “It must be removed if what will come not be the doom that is Sauron’s. If 
you have made your choice in your fate, I only hope that Elbereth keeps you safe until we see each other again.” 
 
Yes, there was an understanding between Celeborn and Anaire that went deeper than even Anaire’s connection 
with Galadriel. It had been the Lord of Lothlorien that had stayed by her side during the years that it had taken 
her to recover enough to be semi-active in society again. During that time, Celeborn had been the main one to 
encourage her, to urge her to make a full return. It was two hundred years in the making, but she was coming 
back to them. Though, it was not in the best circumstances, at least she was regaining a sense of herself before 
the doom fell.  
~ 
The Fellowship was ready to depart from Lothlorien after receiving their numerous parting gifts that was to aid 
them on their continuing perilous journey. The last gift given was that of Galadriel’s to Frodo. “Farewell, Frodo 
Baggins. I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star. Namarie. May it be a light for you in dark places, 
where all other lights go out.”  
The members were about to board their boats when Anaire appeared from underneath the foliage of the forest, 
declaring in a weak, but strangely forceful voice, “I do not know what strength I have, but I know what I must 
do.” She stared directly at Galadriel. <Amme, you knew what choice my heart was to make. You knew before I 
did what I must do. That is why you asked, not to push, not to force, but to make sure. I am sure. This is my 
fate.> She shifted her gaze to Celeborn. <Thank you, Adar. I will not forget.>  
Without further ado, she went to Frodo and bowed to him as she would have bowed to him at the Council of 
Elrond in Imladris had her sworn father not prevented her from doing so. She saw, that what he had done was 
right. That Galadriel had stopped her from joining then to strengthen her in the situation with Elrohir first. First, 
she must be whole before joining. Now that she was whole, her path was cleared and made visible. <I have 
nothing to offer but my heart, Frodo, but that I give all freely.> 
Frodo’s hand touched her chin to lift her face up and said softly to her, “That is all that can be asked.”  
A glimmer of a smile graced her lips as she straightened up to stand tall by Frodo’s side. The road was not going 
to be an easy one, but it was the way that she was to lead. With a heavy heart, she was saying goodbye to the 
only home that she had ever known, to the only parents she knew. But she was not going to back down, this was 
her fate, whether it was the best fate was remained to be seen. Her heart resolute, she placed her bag on the 
closest boat, incidentally the same boat that Legolas and Gimli were preparing.  
“May the light of Elbereth shine upon you, my Fanyarelisse, the Istelile of Lothlorien,” Galadriel murmured as she 
lifted her hand up to give them a farewell. “May even in times of darkness, the light that is within you overcome 
the shadows that surround.”  
The Lord of Lothlorien said nothing, he had said everything the other night. One elf that had known of her 
intentions, broke through the ranks and shouted, “If you are to go, I will go with you.” It was Haldir. It was not a 
declaration to be taken lightly for he was not the type of leave his beloved Lothlorien. “I will protect you with my 
life, I vowed it--- it cannot be taken back.”  
“No,” she said simply. <You cannot leave Lothlorien,> she told him regretfully. It would have been a comfort to 
her to have him go, but she knew that this journey, this route was not meant for him. If there was one place 
meant for him in all of Middle Earth, it was here in the ethereal beauty of Lothlorien. This was where Haldir 
belonged. <This is where you are meant to be.>  
“It does not matter,” Haldir responded. “Wherever you go, I will go. It is that simple. I will not leave you to the 
dangers that are waiting for the Fellowship. If I cannot convince you to stay, I know that I cannot, then I must go 
to make sure that you are safe.”  
<You cannot.> 
It was then that Legolas stepped in. “I will lay down my life for her,” he said solemnly in full seriousness. “Do not 
worry, the Fellowship watches out for its own. She will be safe.”  
“Like it protected Gandalf?”  
A strain of unbearable pain appeared on Frodo’s face at Haldir’s carelessly meant rebuke. <I will protect myself.> 
Neither of the two male elves heard her mental assertion. They were still staring each other down, measuring 
each other with their eyes. <I do not need your protection,> she sent this clear message to both of their minds. 
<I will protect myself. I will.>  
Having said that, she bent down on her knees in front of Frodo and held out her arms to him. <I know what pain 
is in you for it is the same pain I have felt.> It was then that her eyes filled with tears as the horrible epiphany 
overcame her at what she had unconsciously said. It was no wonder she had felt this strange connection to 
Frodo, their shared experiences were alike.  
No, she did not remember who she was, what her name was. But the nightmarish vision was unmistakably from 
her past. It was right before the orcs had tortured her physically. She knew now why Celeborn meant so much to 
her because before her eyes she watched the orcs that were to abuse her murder her father--- yes, she knew the 
elf she saw being slaughtered brutally was her father. The tears slid down her face as she held Frodo in her arms 
for her reassurance as much as his.  
Haldir was stricken to see his Istelile openly weeping. Legolas was also paralyzed in a like manner. But Galadriel 
assured them both that it was not their fault. “She partially remembers what has passed. But Haldir, she is right, 
you cannot leave Lothlorien.” Her March Warden turned to her defiantly, but respectfully listening to what she 
continued to say, “It is her road to take, it is not yours.” <Lorien needs you.>  
Frodo did not know what to do, all he wanted to do was to comfort her as she had done the same to him yester-
evening. His hear was much relieved when Celeborn came and took his Estelinde into his arms, soothing her with 
his soft strokes and calming caresses. “So you have seen what Galadriel has known for a long while,” he 
murmured. “I had hoped that you would not, but now that you have you must let it go. It is the past, there is 
naught you can do.”  
Her tears subsided and she nodded. There was nothing she could do to change it. She took a shaky breath and 
drew away from Celeborn. <You are my Adar,> she told him. <You always will be.> He smiled at her and kissed 
her one last time on the forehead.  
“And you are my Estelinde, always.”  
“I cannot help but go,” Haldir responded to Galadriel with a heavy heart, turning to Anaire with earnest eyes. “I 
cannot let her go alone. She needs me.” He was trying to convince his Lady as much as he was his Istelile.  
<That is true,> she murmured, approaching him and letting him hold her tightly. <But you are needed here. 
Lorien needs you. And I must do this alone. You must understand Haldir. You must protect Lorien.>  
It was same thing Galadriel had said in his mind. There was nothing he could do but let her go. It was what was 
determined for him to do, so he nodded and dropped his arms from her side. The last thing he did was stare 
Legolas straight into the eye. “You promise to watch over her with your life.”  
“That I will,” Legolas swore. “That I will.”  
With the heaviest of hearts, Haldir let her go. His was not the only one that was suffering. If anything, Galadriel 
was the one that was tormented the most. Her inside felt like it was being gnawed out by the fact that she knew 
that this journey was doomed to end in doom. She had foreseen the end, the end that was destruction. She 
hoped, she prayed that it was not the end that would be. That was still to be decided, and yet it was a possibility. 
The Fellowship was setting out on the thoroughfare of disaster.  
~ 
Author’s Note: Wow, reviews are nice and they’re getting insightful! Thanks! I really like it when you predict 
ahead, it makes me think as well! Especially if you’re thinking ahead more than I am! Thanks for all the reviews 
thus far, they’ve been AWESOME! Everyone seems to want 2 things: Haldir x Anaire and that Haldir does not die. 
Well you will definitely get one of those things, of which I will not divulge ^-^;; quite yet. As that I’m undecided 
over many things, I am happy to say I’ve decided on one course of action! Will leads the way!