Hello there! I just know that everyone has been missing Sir Fuzzalot and her reviews (umm...), but she is back! yay! I'm sorry that I've been extremely busy, and unfortunately, I still will be. I have to create an entire video for theatre, study for history, really study for math, make Greek weapons out of wood (and research about them) in English, do a major project in science, and etc. Not to mention i have a ton of stories I want to update, and also begin!
I think that all of my readers will like this story, especially if they're LotR fans like I am. I try to use elvish in the correct ways, but I'm still a beginner, don't push me. This has taken FOREVER to write, because I had to do other things, update stories, begin new stories, and also the fact that there's not much about the main character in here. This chapter is kinda like a prologue, but I put it as ch. 1 anyway. This chapter talks mainly about Aerandir, who has a relation to the main character.
So, I don't want to keep you waiting... here's Softly in the Shadows!
Disclaimer: sigh rzmfrazmre... all right... I don't own the LotR, for it belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. rzmfrazmre... the only stuff I own here is the plot, title, and a bunch of the characters. sigh
Softly In the Shadows
Chapter One – Whispers of Hope
Ú-chebin Estel anim...
Nín lû gwannad cân…
Diola lle.
Those were the last words he ever spoke upon this earth. He had a sad look in his eye, and his light had faded. The child in his arms slept soundlessly, her head nuzzling into his chest. She couldn't have been even a year old, which was very young for an elleth. I have felt sadness beyond the capacity of Men… and none had been withdrawn from this moment as I looked upon her, so full of life while the elf carrying had naught. I remember him, from so, so long ago…
He was born in the Golden Wood, a pure elf from the proud parents of three other children. His name was Aerandir, and he loved to roam the forest every time he had the chance. He was a fast learner, too. He had naturally learned Sindarin as his first language, but he quickly learned Nandorin by the time he was twenty-five. He was still an elfling!
When he was forty-seven, his parents took him along with them as they went traveling in a delegation to Greenwood (later to be called Mirkwood). When they had just made it across the Anduin and into Loeg Ningloron (Gladden Fields), though, they were attacked by a band of orcs. Only a few of the elves had weapons with them, for there seldom were orcs and other evil creatures between Greenwood and Lorien. The elves were going down in numbers. Some managed to kill some orcs, but the orc numbers were too great. The weapons had been taken, and the orcs were encircling the delegation. There would be no hope left for running. Aerandir's parents tried their best to protect him, but they had died a little ways into the battle. He was left to try and survive by himself, but it would be impossible. He dodged the foul blades that swept passed him, but eventually one caught him in the stomach. He fell to the grassy plain, and the sky blackened.
The orcs moved on, satisfied with their kill. They took all the possessions of the elves, and ate their horses. Five hours later, Aerandir awoke. His whole body hurt, especially his stomach area. The blade did not cut deep, thank goodness! If it did, he would've been killed for sure. He was also hurt along his left side, as if something had bitten him all along it. Since that wasn't as serious as his stomach wound, he began to treat it first. He ripped some material off of a dead elf's shirt, and wrapped it around himself. Wait… a dead elf? He thought. He then looked up, taking in the horrifying spectacle. The orcs had won, taken all that was dear to them; all the elves had died, his parents included. He was left to fend for himself. He would most likely die, for he depended on his parents for everything. He was still an elfling, just beginning with the sword, for Eru's sake! He could do nothing. He couldn't walk in his condition, and there would be no point in calling for help. There'd be no one around to hear him. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and lay back down upon the earth.
The elves of Greenwood were surprised when they found that the delegation from Lórien had not come. Elves were seldom late, so this would be a problem. The King Thranduil sent some of his better hunters to search for them. Four and a half days later, they were shocked as they saw the spectacle of dead elves scattered amongst the plain, their blood staining the grass red. They rummaged around the poor elves, searching for any survivors.
Surprisingly, they found one. It was Aerandir, asleep upon the ground. He was very skinny, as though he had not eaten for some time. A wound was on his stomach, and he had put a piece of cloth over it. He was only an elfling, too! He would need to go to the healers immediately. They did a bit of traveler's healing that would last him for the time being, which woke him up with a yell. No wonder, medicine does sting. Aerandir looked wildly from elf to elf, wondering what was going on.
"Quel kaima (sleep well), elfling," said one. Aerandir looked at him with terrified eyes, but relaxed soon enough. He had no reason no to trust these elves right now. Another picked him up, and sat him on one of their horses. They climbed atop their own horses, and thus commanded:
"Noro lim, Draennonë, Noro lim!"
The horses (one having the name Draennonë) loped forward due to the elvish command, jumping over brambles in their way. The journey to the closest experienced healer would be far, but the elves had hope that this little elfling could make it.
The trees became blurs, and the wind howled at the elves' keen ears. The trip to the nearest infirmary was the four and a half days that it took to find him in the first place, but it seemed like weeks as they made the journey back. Slowly, after about a day, Aerandir realized that he was upon the grass once more. The elves that had rescued him were walking amongst the camp, some making a fire, others setting up temporary sleeping quarters. He groaned, catching the attention of the closest one.
"Ai' naik deno' lle, hin?" ("Any sharp pain upon you, child?") he asked, crouching down to the little elfling's height. "Lle tyava quell?" ("Do you feel well?")
"Uma, Herumain, ten' naik. E' amin rooma, ened, ar' telko," ("Yes, my lord, for pain. In my shoulder, stomach, and leg.") Aerandir replied through gritted teeth. He had never experienced such pain before, having been well protected in the Golden Wood. The elf rolled up Aerandir's left pant leg, and examined the mangled gash that ran in all directions. It was as if more of the inside of the leg could be seen than the outside. Aerandir whimpered in fright as he saw it, so he lay back on the grass and closed his eyes. Another elf took a look at his left shoulder. From the pain, to Aerandir, it seemed as though something had bitten him firmly there and dragged him around, like he'd thought before.
It was so, you know. A great warg from the foul parts of the land had attacked him from the left side after he had passed out from the blade that swept past his middle. It firmly bit him by the left shoulder, dragging him to a part where it would be alone with its catch. It gnawed on his leg, trying to see just how much meat was on the little elf. It wasn't satisfied with his small leg, so it tried his shoulder. Not much there, either. It just finally dragged him back to the site of the battle, where a perhaps more desperate warg could have him.
There, he was found by the Greenwood elves that saved him. Four and a half days later, he was in their chief city, where the King Thranduil resided. He was not at all pleased in hearing the news of the delegation from Lorien, but he was happy to see that Aerandir was finally safe.
As soon as the elfling was able to sit up and talk without difficulty, King Thranduil spent hours with him to keep him company. Aerandir was the only person (erm… elf) that was witness to the attack and was still alive, and he wanted to know what had happened. Aerandir wouldn't say much, though. It was much too painful. Both of his parents had died, along with a few family friends as well.
The King spoke soft words to him, although he did not lose his parents at such a young age. His father was killed when Thranduil was more than a thousand years old, in battle. His mother could not take the news, and died quickly of grief. This made Thranduil extremely somber, but that could not compare to Aerandir's dire tale.
Two days later, Thranduil was needed in another part of Greenwood for business. He sent his second born son, Legolas, to play with Aerandir. After all, they were about the same age. Legolas was a joy to Aerandir, for he could better understand him than Thranduil could. Legolas and Aerandir became fast friends, as so they would remain.
Thranduil came back two weeks later, and told Aerandir that he would be informing the Golden Wood of the terrible loss. Aerandir sadly nodded, recalling what his parents were like. He didn't like the event mentioned often. It brought up too much pain to bear.
A week and a half later, a response from Lothlórien came. I had (and still have) the gift of foresight, and already knew that the attack had taken place, but I expressed my surprise and utmost grief nonetheless. The note went on into business and events (written by the Lord Celeborn, my spouse), which Aerandir was sent away for. An hour later, he was called back to the king's side. I had written a small note at the end which concerned the elfling.
"Aerandir," the king said, placing his gentle hands upon the small elf's shoulders, "the Lady Galadriel is in inquiry about the whereabouts in which you will remain. She has written down a few names of people who have kindly offered to take you into their home. They have already taken your two sisters and brother into a kind couple's housing."
Aerandir let out a small gasp. He now knew why I had written a note about him at the end. His parents were now dead. He was an orphan; he had no home. Maelioëa, Cùrienël, and Halstofas would all be in the homes of another, cared for and loved. He shakily took a breath, and nodded for Thranduil to continue.
The king of Greenwood looked at him with his clear blue eyes. It was obvious that he cared for the elfling, and wanted what was best for him. "Aerandir… aside from that, there is also the option of staying here in Greenwood. As soon as I came home, Legolas was telling hours on end about your adventures with him. He would be very upset if you left, for he has not made another friend like you. I am offering you the choice of staying in my household until you are ready to continue on your own, no matter when that may be."
The small elf looked up at him. Although he was born in the Golden Wood and had known of no other place save it for his lifetime until recently, he felt more at home in Greenwood than he'd ever been anywhere else. He didn't make friends in Lorien, for they all had friends of their own. He was a loner in his little world, and he was only close to his parents and three other siblings. He would miss his siblings dearly, but Greenwood would be the place that he would say.
"King Thranduil," Aerandir said cautiously, "my naneth always told me to seek out a good adventure when I saw it. As a tribute to her memory and for the enhancing of my future, I will follow her command and stay in Greenwood, here in your household."
The king smiled, and embraced him. "Lle e' n'uma n'dur e' sina? Llie irma karnbara sinome?" ("You are in no doubt in this? You desire to make dwelling here?")
"N'uma, n'dur," ("No, no doubt,") he said. Truly, he meant it. After all, who would know what tomorrow would bring?
A thousand years passed from that day, and Aerandir was the talk of the whole forest. Elleths practically fell before his feet, so he'd often wear a cloak around to conceal his identity. This action proved to no avail: the elvish women still recognized him, and thought that the cloak just made him even sexier.
Well, Aerandir was good-looking. He just tried to shy away the fact all the time, but he knew that that'd be the reason for all of the love-struck elleths in Mirkwood.
If you'd ask how he started in Greenwood, but all the elleths in Mirkwood were attracted to him, I'd give you a simple explanation. You see, in the year 1050 of the Third Age, evil spread from a part of the forest called Dol Amroth, turning the elven dwelling into a shadowy, mangled, and mysterious forest. This caused the name of it to be changed to Mirkwood. King Thranduil, fearing the spiders that had now invaded, moved the capital city to a more north-east area, more towards the border. That way, the spiders that came from the south would give them no trouble.
Of course, 1050 was only fifteen years into Aerandir's stay. The year was now 2035, and Aerandir was in his prime.
He excelled in his skill with the bow and arrow, and was quicker than most elves with the sword. He was still learning techniques, though. New ones that came along were harder to perfect when you're going beyond breakneck speed.
Legolas, Aerandir's best friend, was just as good as Aerandir was, except he preferred the knives instead of swordplay. He was excellent in fighting with both hands since he was an elfling (erm… fights with bully elves?), so knives seemed like the perfect match when they were to choose their blade to learn with in school.
Although they both were dead handsome and extremely good warriors, they hadn't yet acquired a wife. Sure, Legolas had courted a few elleths, but those always turned out with a disaster. Well… let's just say that Legolas isn't one who's full of tact with women. Aerandir never courted a single girl. He was much too shy, and also had no time. He and Legolas spent weeks at a time exploring the vast regions of Mirkwood, as long as they didn't go too far south.
One day, when Aerandir and Legolas were out delivering a message to the village Cälennomi in northwest Mirkwood for the King, they happened to come across a small settlement. It might be the village they were seeking, but it could also be just another settlement in the path towards their destination. They noticed the white wood of the talans (house – up in a tree) from afar, although they were cleverly disguised (what can you expect? They were made by elves, remember). Before were could take another step, though, an elf hopped down from a branch before them.
"What business has you in the village of Cälennomi, fellow elves?" he said, his face nonchalant. Aerandir and Legolas exchanged glances upon learning that they'd reached the place where King Thranduil's message was to be delivered to.
"We seek to enter to go to the village leader's talan, for my father, King Thranduil, has a message for him," Legolas replied, his expression matching the guard elf's.
"Prince Legolas! An honor it is, heruamin (my lord), to be before you. Please enter." He bowed down low before him, and bid them entrance. Legolas and Aerandir started walking in, but the elf called them back.
"Oh—heruamin, would you like an escort? I do not think that you know the way to Braennor's talan."
Legolas thought over it for a minute. "Yes, that would be to our liking. We do not need one after we have reached the talan," Legolas said, then looking at Aerandir for reassurance, "for we would like to explore the village."
The guard bowed his head in approval. He then looked up to the tree from which he came out of, saying, "Gynnil!"
Immediately, a heavily-jawed elf jumped gracefully down, and bowed low before Aerandir and Legolas.
"Aredhelrim (elf lords), I would be delighted to take you to the leader Braennor's talan. Come this way now, it is not far," he said, beginning to walk towards the settlement. The two quickly followed, and the guard elf climbed back up to his post.
They reached the village in no less than five minutes; that way, the guards would be given more time for killing invaders before they reached settlement. There were elves all about, browsing the market and haggling over prices. Mothers held their little elflings close, whilst the elflings pointed out to their naneths the things that they would like to get. The sunlight streamed thought the glistening boughs of the trees bearing the white-wooded talans. Elleths were out on the balconies, looking down at the activity below. As they passed by, one particular elleth in a talan waved emphatically at us. Gynnil smiled, and waved back.
"My wife," he explained. "I have not been home for three weeks. Border patrol has been very stressful with the threats of the wilds alive in the forest. This village needs as many soldiers on patrol as it can get."
The two nodded, and set their eyes upon a talan placed in a very distinguished place. The sun beamed directly upon it, and the grass there seemed a bit lusher. That would of course be Braennor's talan, the home of the village leader. As they approached the steps that led up to it, Gynnil bowed his head respectfully, and left. Aerandir and Legolas then went up to deliver their message.
An hour later, they emerged about, looking a bit weary. Their first stop in exploring the town was the local Eatery, where they could rest. They sat down at a table, where a very pretty elleth (not to say that all the other elleths were not pretty) approached them with paper and a writing utensil.
"'Quel andune, (good afternoon,) good sirs. Would there be anything to your liking that you would have?" she asked politely.
The two looked at the menus before them, and made their decision. The elleth left back to the kitchens once she had their orders, and returned shortly afterwards with a steaming pot of beef stew, and loaf of bread, and a jug of water. Aerandir and Legolas expressed their thanks, and she smiled as she left back to the kitchens.
"Very beautiful, is she not?" asked Legolas, watching her as she left.
"Yes… seems as though the elleths get prettier everyplace you go. I wonder what her name was."
Aerandir's wonderment of her name was quickly answered, for the elleth stormed out of the kitchen, looking very angered. A very red-faced male elf came out after her, yelling, "Natälariel! You get back here, girl! As long as you are working for me, you do as I say!"
Natälariel spun around in her tracks and faced him. "Then I quit, Talúvio. You've been unfair to me, and I refuse to work here any longer. I hardly spend time out of here, with the number of hours you are making me work. Sételia only works four days a week, with five-hour shifts. You are making me work six days a week, with ten hours a day! I long to see a world outside of the shop, Talúvio."
"You cannot quit, Natälariel. You bring me in a lot of business, girl. About half of the ellons (male elves) that take frequent meals here only come to see you! Do you not know how many ellons find you incredibly attractive?" he added with deep feeling.
Natälariel looked disgusted. "You rage at me, and then say that you find me pretty? That is weak of you. And you have customers here, all listening in on us. I suggest that you get back to your kitchen."
The elf named Talúvio glared daggers at her one last time before retreating back into the door whence he came. Natälariel backed against the wall, and put her head in her hands.
Aerandir and Legolas were listening, and felt concerned for the poor elleth. "Natälariel," whispered Aerandir. Their table was very near where she stood, so she jerked her golden-haired head up to stare at him. "Come and sit with us. We wish to speak with you."
Legolas mouthed a 'we do?' at him, but Aerandir ignored him, holding out his hand for the elleth. She cautiously took it, and sat down.
"You wish to go away from this town?" asked Aerandir.
Natälariel nodded. "Anywhere's better than here. Someplace where I can start over new; away from these elves."
"You can come with us. We're travelers here, and will soon return back home. You might like it. We will be crossing the forest, facing the dangers if they come our way. We live in the main city, out to the eastern part of the forest."
Legolas caught onto Aerandir's drift, and continued, "We are the sons of Thranduil. Well, I amone of his sons. Aerandir here is adopted. My name is Legolas. You are welcome to travel with us to the city. You can start a new life there. My father can get you a job practically anywhere."
Natälariel looked as though she was thinking about it, and after a minute, smiled. "Fine. I will come with you to your city." Aerandir and Legolas smiled back. "But… you will not charge me anything, will you? I do not have much money, and I do not wish to start a new life being penniless."
"No, not a thing. We do not need your money. The more the merrier on a journey. We can leave as soon as you like, too," said Aerandir. Legolas nodded.
"I would wish to leave in an hour, if you do not mind. The quicker I can get away from here, the better. But we can leave as soon as you are ready, of course," she said.
"We will just eat our lunch, and you can go pack. Then, we can leave," stated Legolas. She smiled, and left to pack. "Just our luck, a new friend. And my, I'm looking forward to getting to know her."
"Yeah…" Aerandir dreamily said, staring off into space. "Natälariel. What a beautiful name…"
Two days later, they had gotten back home without difficulty. Many elves were in question as the trio passed by why the two lords had an elleth with them, but they thought nothing of it.
King Thranduil immediately liked her, and ordered a chamber to be set up for her lodging. He was very generous when it came to poorly treated elleths that were pure-hearted and true.
Aerandir and Legolas spent a lot of time with her. They ate meals together, walked the streets of the city together, and went out exploring in their little trio. They were fast friends, all of them. Pretty soon, the day came where Natälariel asked to learn the art of archery and swordplay. That way, we could travel through the forest more often without the fear of extra-protection for her, the only inexperienced elf in their company. The archery they both could train her in, but only Aerandir could teach her swordplay. Legolas used the knives, and Natälariel wasn't up to the challenge of learning to use those.
She was a fast learner, and a good sport. Instead of breaking out in tears at her constant mistakes, she laughed. And oh, how Aerandir loved her laugh. It was sweeter than the nightingale's song, or the chiming of bells. After half a year of training, she managed to load her bow and hit a true bull's eye in the archery target like every elven warrior. She did it accurately, and very quickly. After another half-year, she had mastered all the beginner's techniques for the sword. Legolas watched them from afar, training. They had grown so close in their little 'friendship trio', but even more so in sword practice. They had become inseparable as friends.
Who would know when that friendship would blossom into something else? It was easy to tell that Aerandir liked Natälariel. Legolas had seen it since the very day that they met. But when would he make a move? Only time would tell.
In truth, they were married the very next spring. The wedding was beautiful; it was set in Thranduil's very best garden, and most everyone in the city was invited. Natälariel's hair was embedded with white flowers, and her dress surpassed the beauty of anything that Aerandir had ever seen before.
Her dress was like a typical elvish everyday dress, with the wide, billowy sleeves, but so much better. It was low-cut, and a bit tight across the stomach, but flowed smoothly all the way down to her toes. It was very pleasing to the eye, made from the finest elven silk the world of Middle Earth had to offer.
Natälariel's smile, though, was prettier than the stars, or the moon, or any dress that she ever wore. As she walked down the petal-strewn aisle, nothing was felt in Aerandir's heart but pure and utmost love. Oh, how he loved, loved her! She was his sunrise, ever faithful, greeting you warmly everyday. And how Natälariel loved him back! He was her stars, twinkling brightly every night, and still lingering through into the morning. All the more better, though, was that Aerandir was tangible. Many a girl has wanted to reach out and touch a star, or be sun-kissed. Natälariel could hug him, kiss him all she wanted.
They loved each other with a passion that none had even dreamt of before, not in a million years. The heavens and earth were theirs, and they took good use of them. The treasured every moment together, for no one save the very Valar themselves know how long they will be.
Within months, Natälariel was with child. It was first noticed when she was washing clothes down by the river with some of her friends. Just as she was washing one of Aerandir's battle uniform shirts, she gave out a cry, and, clutching her abdomen, fell straight into the river. Her best friend, Kiléawen, dove in after her and dragged her onto the shore. Just as Natälariel managed to get upright, she flipped right over onto her hands into a crawling position, and vomited. The elf maidens took her straight to the healers, who told her that she was going to have a baby.
The couple was overjoyed. Aerandir, upon hearing the news from his wife, lifted her straight into the air and twirled her around. All of the happy moments were short-lived, though. Natälariel soon (after a few months) became confined to their talan, and was very moody. She complained that she was fat, and always wanted the strangest things to eat. Aerandir didn't know what to do.
Legolas wasn't helping, either. He was the one who convinced Natälariel that she was fat in the first place. Of course, elves can never become fat. The only way that elves can develop that 'bulge' is only for the females, when they become pregnant. Aerandir tried his best to tell her that she wasn't fat, but Natälariel was the best elf around for having great comebacks. In the end, Aerandir would always win with the trump card of being her husband. After a silly nonsensical argument about whatever Natälariel's pregnant self was complaining about, she'd soon forget it when Aerandir kissed her.
After nine grueling months, Natälariel went into labor, right on schedule. She was immediately taken in the arms of Aerandir to the infirmary, where she would be taken care of. Once they were there, Aerandir was shooed out, even though he was her husband. Usually men like to be around when an important stage of their woman's life is taking place.
Legolas, getting the news just fifteen minutes after Natälariel was taken in, came to be with Aerandir. Aerandir paced around the door to Natälariel's room the whole time, frequently pressing his ear up to the door to try and hear anything. Well, you couldn't really hear anything, save Natälariel's never-ending screams. They burned a hole right through Aerandir's heart, but he knew that soon enough, they would subside.
Sure enough, a beautiful baby girl was born after five hours of being in labor. Aerandir was overjoyed when the healers finally let him in to see his very weary wife and new daughter. Natälariel was happy to see him, but could barely keep her eyes open, she was so tired. Aerandir lifted the little elfling from her arms, kissing his wife softly on the cheek.
The little elleth was so stunning! Aerandir did not often see newborn elflings that often, and did not think much of them. Now, this elfling would become most of his world. Never had he loved children so much before this day! He wanted to hold her in his arms forever.
Suddenly, one of the main healers tapped him on the arm, holding parchment and a quill. "The girl's name, heruamin? Have you decided upon it?"
Indeed, Aerandir and Natälariel had pre-thought this issue out. It would become a problem to have a nameless child. If the laito (baby) was to be a boy, they had decided upon Camthalion, after Aerandir's grandfather. Secretly, Natälariel wished for a girl, like all first-time mothers. They had decided upon Lidamélae (A/N: Hard pronunciation. Suggested: Liy-DAH-mehl-ee. Alternative: Lee-DAH-mehl-ee), a name that Natälariel herself had come up with. If they had twins, other names could be Fingolir (for a boy), and Cirnäella (for a girl). Aerandir knew that he could handle a small elfling, but twins would be more than he could handle. He hoped for only one child, and bear more later.
Aerandir looked over to his wife, now asleep, and then to the small baby in his arms. She, too, was now falling into silent slumber.
"Lidamélae," stated Aerandir lovingly, as if savoring the word, "That will be her name."
Lidamélae was released from the infirmary a day after her birth, carried to her new home in the arms of her father. Natälariel was having some small problems with her system, which was semi-normal for an elleth after giving birth. Elves are immune to all diseases, and only directly after childbirth can elves (only girls, of course) receive them for a temporary amount of time. The elvish immunity system realized that it's there after about a week and wipes it out.
Three days later, Natälariel was released and went back to her talan, greeted warmly with zeal from her loving husband holding their beautiful baby daughter. Natälariel promptly dropped her bags to go and embrace them both.
At lunch, they sat down at the table with a meal actually made by Aerandir, when he asked a very odd question:
"So… how is childbirth?"
Natälariel looked at him, and started to laugh. "I swear, I have never been asked that question before, dear. It is very painful, I will have you know, but rewarding. You just have to go though it, knowing that the pain is only temporary."
"How did you fare the last three days at the infirmary? I heard that you contracted one of those short-lived childbirth diseases."
"Yes, I did. If I was a human, I would have died from it, but lucky me, I am an elf. They were dreadfully boring, Aerandir, since all I wanted was lounging around in the talan."
Aerandir sent her a surprised look, and said, "I will have you know that we were not lounging! In fact, we were far from it! Mellie (A/N: shortened version of Lidamélae) kept me up all night, and would not be quiet during the day!"
"Obviously you know nothing about raising a child. That is why I stick around. To teach you, even with how bad you are."
At this comment, Aerandir sent her that sexy smile of his. Natälariel laughed, and kissed him.
"You naughty, naughty elf. You know that I cannot stand it when you do that. It is as if you put on a sign saying 'kiss me; I am the hottest thing alive'. Only in the talan, Aerandir, so no elleths save me get enthralled. You are only allowed to kiss me or Mellie."
Aerandir laughed at this comment, and kissed the two elleths. There was no one in the world that he loved more.
Lidamélae was growing quite nicely. It had now been five months since her birth, and she was getting along with new surroundings just like every other elfling. Her silvery-blonde hair crowned her head, and her cheeks always had that rosy color to them. She loved food, especially the lembas bread. She hearty meals every day, and still remained (like every elf) as thin as a stick.
Natälariel crooned over her, and never let her out of her eyesight. When she went to market, she took Lidamélae with her. Mellie didn't seem to mind; she enjoyed seeing all the different places, and the bright faces of the elves that greeted her.
Even though Natälariel had gotten rid of her temporary illness from childbirth, she still retained the stomach pains. Oh, how she hated them! She could not sleep at nights, for they would keep her up, and sometimes during the day she would clasp her arms around her stomach, dropping the knife she was using to cut up vegetables for a meal. Every time, it would barely miss her feet.
Aerandir took her to the healers in the infirmary. Although he did not see her in the majority of the pain she had due to his long absences at the borders as a Commander of the Mirkwood Guard, all that he had witnessed was enough for him.
Once the main healer had given her a main checkup, he made the announcement that she would be staying overnight. His best guess of the stomach pains was that a part of the disease had not been killed, but lived on it her stomach, destroying all in its path. This had never happened to an elf before, for all disease was usually cleaned out by the extra-thorough elf immunity system.
Natälariel looked sadly at her worried husband and their young daughter in his arms.
"Do not worry for me, Aerandir," she said softly. "I will return home soon enough, when I am better."
"Lidamélae and I have hope for you. Everything will be fine; this ailment will pass by tomorrow."
He kissed her, and Natälariel gave a hug and a kiss to her baby daughter. "I will see you tomorrow, little one."
Aerandir and Natälariel bid their farewells, and then he and Lidamélae left to retire to the family's talan, hoping for the best.
Unfortunately, fate did not have in store what was in favor of them. Natälariel broke her promise of seeing her daughter the next day, for she died that very night. A healer was just going to check up on her at about eleven o'clock at night, and found her dead in her bed, looking quite agitated, clutching her stomach. The healer immediately alerted the other healers, who rushed to tell the dreadful news to the sleeping family.
Aerandir did not take the news well. After his breath shortened, he let out a pained yell, nearly waking up the whole forest. He had collapsed onto a bench by the door, his head in his hands. Oh, how he loved his beloved wife! She was his night, his day, the first thing that he saw when he awakened in the morning. Natälariel alone did he love, and he would never love another like her, save his precious daughter.
Lidamélae—what would happen to the elfling? She wasn't even a year old! It would be so hard for Aerandir to raise her alone, but… Aerandir didn't think that he'd be around to raise her. The pain was too much him. He wouldn't last through the week. The only way elves can die (save Natälariel's case) is by battle, torture, or by just plain grief. Once an elf's spouse dies, it won't be long until the other spouse dies from the grief. They just lose their glow, and fade away.
Aerandir knew that he would be seeing the Halls of Mandos holding his dear wife soon, so he needed to find someone whom he could trust to take in Lidamélae. Legolas—even though he was Aerandir's best friend, Legolas was too busy and not even ready to take care of a female elfling. He wasn't married, and he knew nothing of little elves. Aerandir could not put his daughter in Legolas's care.
King Thranduil would not be a likely option, for he stopped having children many a hundred years ago, and probably would not be good to take on another. Thranduil's wife loved children, but Aerandir finally figured out somewhere that Mellie would love, and be loved.
He set out from the city the very next morning, with Lidamélae in his arms.
Five days later, he arrived in Lothlórien, the Golden Wood. It was late at night, and Aerandir hardly had the strength to stand. He had finally reached the place where Lidamélae would abide – the place of his birth. Here, he would remain in the excellent care of me, the Lady Galadriel.
I silently approached him in the semi-darkness, judging by the glow of the trees around compared to the late hour. His face was so gaunt, and his elvish light had now left him. He was quickly fading.
Aerandir looked down at the sleeping elfling in his arms. She was so beautiful, so full of life. I took her from his weary arms, and held her close.
"Amin eleuva a' he bara ar' vara," ("I will see to her dwelling and protection,") I said, looking at the dying elf. "Aerandir?"
He looked off into space. Finally after a moment, he said softly,
"Ú-chebin Estel anim... Nín lû gwannad cân…" (I have left no hope for myself... my time to depart calls...)
Then, he looked back at me and whispered, "Diola Lle." (Thank you).
He took one last look at his sleeping daughter, Lidamélae, and departed, never to return. I looked at him, staggering forward. At the very brink of my naked eye's sight, I could see him, fading off in the mist.
I never saw him again. I peered at the dear elfling in my arms, and rocked her. I'd had a child once, and I knew just what to do with this one. I knew parts of her future. I knew that I needed to protect her. She must stay in the Golden Wood as long as possible, I knew.
Oh, but only if she knew… if only she knew how great she would become… Lidamélae, dear Lidamélae… I thought. Hope may be over for your father, but it is not so for you. There are whispers of hope, Lidamélae. No matter how small they may be, they are still there. Softly in the shadows, you shall learn, and you shall triumph over your fears.
O
Lidamélae… Fate is ready for you.
How'd you like it? This is my very first LotR fanfic, and will be a series of stories. Hehehehe I have no idea what the next chaptre will be called, what it'll be about, or when the next update will be. Ah, well, that's just me. I'm always really busy, with school, theatre, choir, church, writing, and then fanfiction. I do writing for contests. Yeh!
Be sure and review before you go! I always love my reviews! You can be on my list of best friends! (steadily growing as it is) Check out my other stories, too. Light of Luna's still up, even though it won't be update for quite some time.
Sir Fuzzalot