Title: Silver Shadows

Author: Forest

Pairings: Orophin/OFC, Galadriel/OMC

Rating: PG13

Genre: Angst / Drama

WARNING: Violence, Character deaths

Beta: Shelly huggles her

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, Galadriel, Erestor, Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, OCs

Disclaimer: I own no-one from The Lord Of The Rings. All the characters and place names displayed belong to JRR Tolkien except Saeden, Galaril and Tarwë who are from my own imagination and therefore are the only ones I lay claim to. I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing of this story.

Feedback: Yes please! We aspiring authors thrive on the stuff.

Timeline: AU (to allow for some leeway as regards the practises and ceremonies etc of the elves.)

Summary: (Loosley based on the story of "Hamlet".) When a tragedy befalls the elves of Lorien, there seems to be little hope for a full recovery. However, through a dramatic chain of events, Rúmil finds himself in an unthinkable situation which forces him to become torn between his oath of wreaking revenge and his deep reluctance to spill elven blood.

Author's Notes: I'm only going to write this once. I realise there are some errors in this piece which do not wholly correspond with what many believe Tolkien intended - basically, they go against some aspects of the canon. A main example of this is the mention of the Halls of Mandos and also the issue regarding rebirth of elves. I hope I do not offend anyone by going AU and therefore sometimes, as I said,against the canon. But, so you know, I chose to do this because, had I not, the basing of the plot on that of 'Hamlet' would not have worked nearly as well - if at all.

So. Having cleared that up hopes. On with the show.

Cheers.

Forest.

Chapter 1

The news of Celebrían's departure had been a terrible blow. Lord Elrond had taken to locking himself in his chambers and only emerging at meal times – though even then, his appearance was not always guaranteed. Arwen had channelled her grief in talking things over and over with her brothers, who, for themselves, were past the emotional grief and now felt only a deep and furious desire to wreak revenge for the attack on their mother. As regarded the lord and lady of Lorien, their grief had been significantly different from each other's. Galadriel went about her normal duties, albeit a little subdued. She knew that the time would eventually arrive when she would see her daughter again, and by holding onto that fact that Celebrían had not departed to the Halls, Galadriel managed to keep things running as smoothly as possible.

Contrary to the initial belief however, it had been Celeborn who appeared to have taken the news the worst. He had been eating noticeably less and seemed more prone than ever to slipping into a state of deep thought during a conversation. He now spent a lot of time brooding silently, skipping meals had become habitual, but none were more concerned about this onset of behaviour than Galadriel herself. Also, preparations for the Autumn Festival were underway and it was common knowledge that Celeborn particularly enjoyed overseeing these. However, this year, no one had heard sight nor sound of the lord of Lorien, even an entire week into the preparations.

One evening, just as Anor was setting, Galadriel made her way swiftly from the preparations and to her talan. Inside, there were very few candles lit, causing a dusky and melancholy light around the interior. She moved from room to room, trying to search out her husband. Finally, upon entering the bedchambers, she found him. Curled up like a kitten in slumber, his once fine silver hair, now a dull grey, the lord of Lorien lay quiet and unmoving, though, from the speed and depth of his breathing patterns, Galadriel knew he was not asleep.

'My lord?' she whispered, the strong timbre of her voice not betraying the fear she was beginning to feel. She moved quickly to the other side of the bed and crouched down so she was at eye level with him. His glorious face was pallid and there were heavy dark circles under his eyes. He gazed hopelessly at her, his once glittering grey eyes, now dull and deep with a bitter and most painful sorrow.

Gently, Galadriel laid a hand against his cool cheek and kissed him softly. She may as well have been loving a marble statue for all the response she received. 'My lord' she tried once more, 'will you not join the preparations? You are greatly missed.'

As though struck dumb, Celeborn merely closed his eyes for a prolonged moment, before opening them again only to stare at her as though silently asking her why such things should matter after all that had happened.

'You mustn't give up like this' she said, her voice beginning to crack slightly, 'Celebrían made the decision she felt was right and we must honour, not mourn her for it.'

Still he gave no indication of heeding her words and such were their exchanges of late – mainly one sided. Whenever Celeborn did utter a few coherent words, their content was always of woe and strife. It moved and grieved Galadriel to see him wallowing so intensely in his pain for he appeared a mere shadow of his former self, all his previous mental and physical strength now a memory – abandoned in favour of such great despair.

What in Arda was she to do? She stayed by her husband's side as long as she could, but she knew she must not, she could not abandon her people. And so it was. All the Lady could do was pour continuing streams of desperate encouragement and loving support into his ear. But for all her efforts, it seemed all in vain. No matter how much she tried with all the strength she possessed to pull him back from the darkness, with each day that passed, he seemed to grow ever weaker, the light in his eyes always dimmer a little further.

Evening fell around Lorien seemingly quickly that day, and soon, several wardens could be seen returning from their duties at the fences. One of these was a young ellon by the name of Saeden. He had been at his post for a couple of weeks and was exceptionally delighted to set his sights upon the grand elven city again after what had seemed like an Age. Upon his return, he encountered Orophin who had only recently finished his chores down at the preparations. Wiping his hands on the front of his tunic, Orophin ran to greet his fellow warden.

'Well well! We were wondering when we should see your repulsive features around here again' laughed Orophin in pure jest.

'Much could be said the same for you, you filthy orc!' replied Saeden with a grin, looking Orophin over with an amused expression. 'Didn't you realise that rolling in mud is strictly an activity reserved for rowdy elflings?'

Orophin rolled his eyes. 'If you'd been around here these past weeks, you too would have been knee deep in paint and such for the festival preparations, and thus as filthy as I!'

'Oh, I don't know about that' Saeden raised a brow, 'I have never seen helpers of previous years get quite so soiled. Though I suppose I should not be too surprised. Muck and dirt seem to follow you relentlessly, don't they?'

'Indeed' replied Orophin proudly and as they began walking toward the dining hall, the topic changed abruptly. 'Why were you gone so long anyway?'

'Rumours of wolves crossing the Mountain pass. According to Haldir, we can't be too careful.'

The pair made their way at an easy pace into the dining hall from which a delicious smell of stew was wafting. Deep in conversation, they did not realise the three elves standing in front of them until they almost collided. Looking up, Orophin noted Haldir and Rúmil there, along with Rúmil's close friend, Galaril – servant and messenger to the Lord and Lady.

'The Valar gave you eyes, brother' remarked Haldir as they made for spare seats. 'I dearly wish you would learn to use them for their intended purpose.'

Orophin flushed and glared at his brother. 'And I, for my part, heartily wish you would refrain from speaking such sarcasm.'

Haldir chuckled. 'Oh calm yourself, Orophin. I merely jested.' He looked up and nodded to Saeden with a smile. 'It's good to see you back, Saeden' he began, helping himself to stew. 'How fare things at the borders?'

'Well indeed' replied Saeden smiling good naturedly. 'Though despite the wolf rumours, there have mercifully been no attempts by anyone to cross the borders. Not an orc, man or wolf has been seen or heard for many weeks.'

'That's not necessarily a good thing though' said Rúmil, passing the basket of rolls around.

'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?' Haldir asked, his voice showing clearly his displeasure at what he believed his younger brother was hinting at.

'Well come on Haldir. With all due respect, you know how dull it can get on duty – especially for such lengthy stretches as Saeden has been on.'

Saeden opened his mouth to say he did not mind in the least being there for long periods, but Rúmil cut across him.

'I just wish something exciting would happen. Something wholly different' Rúmil continued a little wistfully.

Haldir looked up from his meal and frowned. 'I don't much care for your tone there, Rúmil. Blasé in the extreme. Besides, do not be too quick to wish for bloodshed' he continued warningly, 'Wish instead for a good harvest this autumn.'

Rúmil sighed. 'What's so exciting about that?'

'Well for one thing, it provides you with the very food you are eating right now. Which without, you would not cease complaining and I would never get a moment's peace. A good harvest is exciting in it's own way, and that goes for most things also.'

'You're really being quite patronising tonight, aren't you, Haldir?' piped up Orophin. 'But still, coming from the elf who takes great delight in sleeping naked on his balcony, I can quite understand how you would find excitement in most pursuits.'

At this comment, all those listening hastily turned their sniggers into conveniently hacking coughs, for which the high temperature of the stew was quickly blamed.

Haldir's featured grew stony and he flushed deeply. 'Was that entirely necessary to divulge?' he hissed at a smug looking Orophin, only receiving a decisive nod in response.

'What was that about sleeping naked?' came a female voice from Orophin's left, causing him to jump.

'Ah, we were only discussing Haldir's nightly joys,' Orophin replied shortly, 'But Eru, Tarwë. Please, for the final time, refrain from creeping up on people like tat. Especially me. I have high hopes that if you continue, I shall turn into a bundle of paranoid nerves!'

Tarwë laughed - a light airy sound that caused Haldir to grimace. Tarwë was well known for flitting constantly between lovers, though, as he liked to believe that Orophin had decent taste, he was prepared to reserve judgement for the time being. His conviction however did not prevent him from having particularly grave doubts upon the stability of their relationship, and certainly her honestly left reams to be desired.

Still, the evening was beautiful indeed, and the company was mostly good. So, pushing all cares and concerns about Tarwë to the back of his mind, Haldir returned to his stew.