The figure before him ran with a grace and speed that could be compared to a gazelle or a hart; they had done this chase before, it was a past time of theirs and every year they completed the same race. They knew every stone and hill and bluff and each path had a shortcut that rarely changed in their eyes, though to others the paths never seemed to be the same from year to year. A boisterous laugh echoed through the lands,

"Hurry up! I'm going to beat you again short shanks!"

The dark haired youth smiled and quickened his pace, the figure before him passed under the eaves of the woods with form and agility that mimicked even the swiftest of swallows, the sunlight of the early morning radiated off the new leaves of spring and caught their glimmer on the figure's golden brown hair, shimmering like freshly polished brass. His breathing slowed and a faint glimmer caught his eye,

There it is!

The thought ran through his mind as he quickly, deftly and silently turned to the left and took another course. The other, running swiftly ahead dodged branches here and there, never breaking his stride, his feet softly touching each stone or fallen autumnal leaf before springing back up; suddenly it occurred to him that the sound of running was caused by his feet alone. He turned around and saw nothing but the green and gray shadows passing under the eaves of willow, beech and ash. His ears cocked from one side to the other, nothing but the occasional sound of birds and the flowing river entered his ears.

"Celebrin?"

He shouted, drawing in quick breaths; wiping the sweat from his brow he heard the crack of a twig and turned back toward the path and direction he had been running; there standing several meters in front of him was a short lithe figure, his blackened raven hair shimmering in the light of the clearing he stood in, a mischievous smile worn on his lips.

"Don't look so shocked Alphé, I was bound to beat you sometime!"

The dark haired elf spun around and quickly dashed up the hill, deeper into the forest; Alphindil raced after him laughing,

"I don't know how you did it but you haven't won yet."

The two raced through the woods that spanned the long course of the River Lune all the way up to the foothills of the Emyn Uial the source of the river. They raced on and on, never tiring until the sun was fully toward the west, almost ready to dip behind the Ered Luin. They stood on the bald head of some unknown hill gasping and heaving breaths of cool, humid green air; lightning bugs began to hover from their abodes in the grasses upon the hill and the song of the nightingales began to chirp. Celebrin sat upon the ground and looked Eastward beyond the lands of Cirdan; the hill dipped down before beginning the slow climb to the Emyn Uial where no trees grew, save the hardy cypress, clining to rocks that jutted over the ever present mists that rose from the valley of Nenuial. Alphindil sat beside him handing him a piece of waybread they had bought at the market when they began their race; the two friends looked out at Emyn Uial, the sea of mist rising to meet them and lap at their feet. They sat silent for a moment before Alphindil finally spoke,

"Do you think they'll come tonight?"

"I doubt it…they never do, maybe they are gone…gone forever like my uncle says."

"So why do you wake me at midnight every year on this day and force me to run all these miles; if you were worried about coming here on time; we should have left Mithlond earlier and arrived here leisurely."

,said Alphindil tying his hair up into a braided knot to keep it from his shoulders. Celebrin knelt behind his friend and helped him with knotting the braid tightly so that it did not move,

"Because…I don't think they would appreciate someone just leisurely visiting them…I feel like they want to watch us struggle to meet them, to see them…Like we have to prove ourselves somehow."

"I thought you said they were gone forever…"

"Perhaps I want to dream that they are still here…"

Suddenly a voice startled them from behind,

"Perhaps we are."

They turned quickly and caught the shadow of a misty figure just as the sun passed behind the Ered Luin. Alphindil stood suddenly and yelled,

"Wait!"

But then it was too late, the mists rose over them as twilight commenced and even the stars were veiled behind the gray rain curtain. They were silent for a brief moment and Celebrin stood beside Alphindil; Alphindil was about to speak but his companion quickly placed his finger upon his lips.

"Listen"

, he whispered; the air seemed to grow heavy and his chest felt like it was surrounded by water, as though he were swimming in the bays and piers of Mithlond. Then at the base of the hill small lights seemed to float in the air, swinging in tiny circlets and dancing in the air like fireflies. Yet the lights were green, almost like the rays of the sun passing through gems of emerald, agate and tourmaline. The lights began to approach and though Celebrin was nervous and his heart beat quickly he did not feel fear. Slowly the lights ascended the hill and a voice clear and musical like a bell,

"Edro!"

Immediately the mists seemed to swirl around and above them, they opened like a morning glory opens to greet the sun or how a moonflower opens at dusk, the stars shone out clear and seemed closer to the earth than they had ever been. As the mists swirled they descended the hill and standing before them in a willow-leaf green and silver dress was an elf-maiden; her hair was dark like the midnight sky and her skin pale like ivory or opal. Her arms long and lithe were extended to the sky, palms facing the heavens and she lowered them like great swooping wings of a swan; her eyes were a deep set green, like newly cut grass or the green of the waxy pine leaves that grew in the highlands of Forlindon. She smiled at them and though she seemed young her eyes were ancient and wildly regal, like the king stag or the noble heaviness of the turtle. Upon her head she wore a wreath of woven willow branches and she wore richly carved wooden bracelets that shimmered and gleamed like finely polished silver and gold. Around them stood other elves, who wore clothes of green and brown, so finely dyed that they seemed to melt into the very grass of the hills behind them. Their garb was rough and if one inspected them more one could tell there were tattered and mended patches, yet in the twilight their garb seemed more fine than the silken robes of the Noldor or the garments of the Sindar. The elf-maiden smiled at them and said in the speech of the Laiquendi, that had not been heard in Ennor for many long years

"Greetings Lhachdel! How my heart rejoices at seeing the son of Tathiril at long last after so many long years of waiting!"

When silence greeted her she spoke again in the tongue of the Sindar of Doriath.

Alphindil chuckled nervously and said to her,

"You are mistaken my lady…there is none here by that name."

She seemed to ignore Alphindil and kept her eyes fixed upon Celebrin, who was mesmerized by their song and vibrant hue; and in truth he heard no words come from his friend's mouth only the name Lachdel reverberated in his chest and caused his heart to quell and shudder. When at last he spoke his words seemed to echo off of the very blades of grass or every leaf that shuddered in an absent wind,

"You know my amilessë, yet you speak not your own name…Tell me, are you kin to me, or to my mother whose grave lies beneath the churning waves of the ocean?"

She smiled and tilted her head to the side as though she were looking at a child,

"You do not remember me do you child? Yet how could you? Long have been the years that last I laid eyes upon your fair face and though you have not marked it. I have ever watched you grow and been your silent guardian through the years…I am Liniel of the Danas, whom you call the Nandor, your mother and I were kin in Cuivienen the Long Abandoned home."

Celebrin looked at her for a long time while Alphindil looked at him in wonder; he took his companion's hand in his own and squeezed it. The touch of the other elf awakened Celebrin and he blinked as though blinking would rid him of the vision, yet still she stayed standing before him she held out her hand to him,

"Come with me and I shall say more and show you the life your mother long had lived, ere the fencing of Doriath!"

Celebrin moved to grab her hand but Alphindil took his wrist,

"Do not go with her! You know not if she speaks the truth; speak of her to your uncle first and see if what she says is true!"

Like a hale and fierce flame her voice came suddenly and swift and for a moment the mists seems to circle them again,

"Cease your tongue goldo, kinslayer and foresworn! Who are you to tell Lhachdel Tathirilion to whom he may or may not speak? My words are to him alone!"

Her voice became softer now, though more urgent,

"Come Lhachdel! Come and be with your people, for they too long to see your face and see the elf you have become. I shall not call to you again if we part this night, for this offer is made but once by our folk. Either come with me now or think only of this night as a dream."

Celebrin licked his lips and looking deeply in Alphindil's eyes, he smiled and said,

"I have to…"

He placed his hand into the elf-maiden's and suddenly felt that the ground he stood on ceased to be firm, or rather that it passed quickly beneath his feet, the world became shrouded in mist and the forest revolved in flashes of gray, blue and green and in the distance he heard his name being called out and then all was silent and faded to black

Suddenly Celebrin, the elf of Doriath, awoke with a start taking in a large breath, gasping for air, like a man drowned who has just been given life again. The blanket he covered himself with was thrown on the floor across the room and he looked at his hands and felt the soft straw mattress beneath him. He looked out the window of his room and did not see expansive forest or even the shores of the sea but the deep desert canyon which was now his home. He was no longer in the realm of dreams and memory but in the real physical world; he wiped the sweat from his brow and recalled that what he had dreamed was a real occurrence yet somehow his mind had constructed it to be the thing of myth, as is the way with memories, especially powerful ones.

Liniel was a Nandor and she did come to him one night beckoning him to join her; he remembered going with her and living among the forest peoples for many years, learning their craft of herb, hunting and wood carving. They taught him the tongues of birds and beasts and even to read the scent of the air or the taste of sap for the times and changes of the seasons. Yet he did not recall Alphindil ever being with him, nor did he remember living by the sea in all that time. He wandered on their annual cycle migration from the foothills of the Ered Luin in the spring to the Northern marches above the land that would be Arnor in the summer months, when the wild flowers bloomed. Then they would travel westward to the wooden vales beside the Misty Mountains and live north of Eregion, where Celeborn ruled. Yet never did they journey into the city, for it was their law that no Nandor of their kind would live in houses built of mortar and stone, while abandoning the woods that were their home. In the winter they journeyed south even to the land of Minhiriath, and in those days there was no break in the woods and it was only in the summer when they stepped out from the forest to live upon the plains of Arnor.

When he returned to Mithlond, however, after what he thought was a 3 or 4 years living among them, all those he spoke with swore they had not seen him in 25 years. Alphindil himself embraced him in his arms as though he were one dead that had now come back to life, for he wore an expression of fear in his eyes and for many years after would look sideways at Celebrin, as though he expected him to vanish into thin air again. Celebrin never fully believed them, thinking it was all exaggeration, for he was not held against his will and Liniel came often, after his return, to the borders of Mithlond to speak with him. She taught him the healing arts of the ancient green elves of Ossiriand, who began to disappear more and more and as the years went on her visits became less frequent. Yet she did for a time stay in Mithlond consenting to live in the house he built beside the Hall of Cirdan, for Alphindil was struck with deadly venom from some creature of the sea and she alone had the skill and knowledge to heal it. In those happier days he called her Perinaneth, which is half-mother. In the end however she left him, as all the others had, she journeyed eastward with her folk, for the woods of Eriador were no longer a safe place for her roaming band of elves, of whom his mother was kin. They journeyed Eastward and were not seen again, though when he lived in Lorinand the Nandor spoke of Liniel and her people and how they roamed the mountains and journeyed into the forest of Fangorn, where even the elves of Doriath and Valinor feared to enter. Though he heard no word or saw any glimpse of them, he often thought he saw the faint glimmer of a moving shadow in the corner of his eye when he wandered through the woods alone or on guard duty. Yet now as he sat in bed contemplating his dream he wondered why he remembered that particular moment in his life, when previously his dreams only reminded him of the war and death he had seen.

Unable to sleep he dressed himself and walked out the door just as the rosy fingers of dawn began to peek into the sky. The dry air filled his lungs with bitter freshness as he climbed the last mile up the sheer cliff face; breathing heavily and wiping the copious amounts of sweat that dotted his brow he looked out over the great chasm of earth and then up into the sky. The early morning was always warm like this, dry and hot yet still clinging to night's chill in the deep valley of the canyon; he looked to the north and saw the rising slopes of the red mountains, the tallest tip was covered in lily white snow and reflected the morning's light into brilliant hues of reds, blues, purples and greens. To south the mountains curved in a great crescent shape and fell into a flat plain of fire and sand. Straight through the sandy desert cut a great blue river that flowed from mountain streams into a flood plain below. To the east the plain continued and the golden speck of another great river met his eye; this river flowed ever yellow and gold, for what reason he could not say. And finally his gaze went to the west, still pale blue in the distance where the morning light had not yet reached it; the rocky terrain gave way to brown hills, the shore of a once clear inland sea, and further there grew ancient forests that were once his home.

A gentle snort came from behind his and he saw the long face of a black steed, whom he found wandering the canyon and taken to be his own. He patted the steed upon the soft wet nose and said,

"You were restless too eh Durandir? Do you smell it also…rain comes and it will come swiftly, perhaps tonight!"

Though the sky was clear and there was no wind the elf looking into the farthest reaches of the South and saw a dark shadow above the horizon and already the smell of rain seemed to emit from the dry aching desert soil.

"You will have to stay in the stone stable tonight, the river valley will be flooded and I doubt you can find higher ground or a place to stay dry…unless you have learned how to dig deep holes like the ants do?"

He laughed as the horse neighed its concern about being cooped up inside the small clay and stone stable Celebrin had built for him in a cavern space. He combed his fingers through the sable mane of the horse and led him to a sloping pathway that dipped into the canyon. He wandered through the dry brush, cutting herbs and digging up wild roots and tubers, which he ate during the dry season when his terraced garden yielded no fruit. Celebrin the elf, immortal and long-lived even among his own kin, did not count the days or weeks or months and forgot after a time to count the years as they passed. He was happy, at least as happy as he could be with only the solace of his mind and the vividness of his memories to keep him company.

Other than the deer, wild birds and his horse he kept no other company and in this he was content, for the memories of his long and sorrowful life did not lend themselves for open words. He remembered the years of his childhood, the brief years of happiness and the brutality of its end. He remembered the slaughter of his parents as they defended the kingdom he was raised in; slaughtered by the hands of kinsmen in pursuit of a jewel. He then remembered the years in his foster-father's keep, where he lived by the sea at the western edge of the world; there he met his friend of friends, Alphindil, who for many years uncounted was at his side and was like to him another part of his soul. Yet even this ended in sorrow for the Great War that ended the second age of the world brought pain and suffering to his companion of long years, leading him to seek the path to the West, from which none can return. And this parting was purchased with the betrayal of his father's kinsman and Celebrin's subsequent exile into the Eastern Lands.

The elf then bound himself to a mortal woman in seeking to end his pain and raised from infancy a daughter beautiful and wise to behold, yet even she was tainted by the mortal gift of death and age. And so after long years of toil and travel, Uial Celebrin, son of Doriath made his home in a gorge beneath the shadow of the Orocarni, severed and sundered from any man, elf or other creature save the wild things that lived in that corner of the world. As he neared the slope that would lead to the horse's stable he heard the faint murmur of a thunder roar and he realized he had wandered far too long and meandered without his wits about him, letting the storm catch him unawares. He let out a shrill whistle calling the horse to him; the black beast came hesitantly but as the rain began to pour the horse trotted quickly with the elf's pace. The rain began to fall heavily as Celebrin shut the gate to the stable and went through the small cavern passage that he used to reach his own living quarters. Once he was on the ledge that his door opened out to he looked down at the canyon's deep valley and already saw the sand turn into deep wet clay and slide away through the flood plain.

The canyon veered West for a day's march before turning abruptly south and opening onto the Talath Anorui, the Fire Plain, from there it seemed as though the water disappeared, to where the elf could not say. The rains of the desert's wet season were strong but unpredictable, and often caught people unawares with flash-floods and sudden mudslides, or would last for days or weeks before letting up. Yet Celebrin was unafraid for his cave rested on solid rock and the terraces of his garden were built into the rock face of the canyon's side. His storage house was between the stable and the main house structure built into another deep cave and covered with large stones. He smelled the heavy scent of wet earth and drank from his clay cup some of the cool rain water that fell into a cistern upon the ledge; he permitted his mind to wander to other memories and other times, unaware that a dark figure clasped to the rock beneath the ledge slowly climbing up the rock face to where the entrance of the storage house lay.