SUMMERY - To the Elves she was Relomore, daughter of night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have passed since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may one day wake again from sleep.

WARNINGS - Violence in later chapters

DISCLAIMER - I do not own LOTR or an of its characters. All rights blong to Tolkien, New Line Cinemas, ect. I recieve no money for my writing, it is merely for entertainment.

A/N My comuter doesn't do italics well so thoughts will be in single quotes. ('... ')

Don't forget to review.

The time of the Elves is drawing swiftly to its end; the age of men is soon to be. At last I shall be free. For humans, short of days, and shorter of memory, have forgotten me. I shall finally be myself; not Relomore, not exile, not shadow, nor outcast. I shall be Lomorelira Nightsong, daughter of the Valar, mistress of fate.

Chapter 1- Ill Tidings

(Legolas' PoV)

A soft roar meets my ears. Below me, an expanse of changing color stretches to the distant horizon. First silver, then blue, now gold, or green; the sea crashes upon the white sands with a sound like many voices singing far away.

Above me, gulls wheel on pale wings. Thier melencholy wail calls to me, a cry like no other. It is a voice from beond the edge of sight and just within hearing, so close, yet so far. They speak my name.

"Legolas Greenleaf,

Long under tree,

In joy thou hast lived.

Beware of the sea.

If thou hearest the cry,

Of the gulls on the shore,

Thy heart shall then rest,

In the forest, no more."

The soaring birds speak with the voice of Galadriel the word of the prophecy which has shattered my peace. Never again will I find rest among the trees I so love. Thier soft whispers are a momentary distraction, nothing more. Even amidst the beauty of Ithilien I am restless. For the Anduin is near, and the Anduin leads down to the sea.

The gulls begin to sing once more, this time in a haunting voice I do not know.

Come down to the sea.

Come sail the wide waters.

Come, come away,

To the green lands beyond.

Come see bright Elvenland.

Come walk her gem strewn sands.

Come, come away,

To the home of the gods.

Come down to the sea.

Come sail flashing silver.

Come, come away,

To the far misty shore.

Come Legolas!

"Legolas!"

"Lord Legolas!"

The dream desolves into the night as voices call my name, pulling me from sleep. I blink, and focus unwilling eyes on Faramir and a small man in messenger's garb. The visitor is grim, and my friend looks worried. The emmisary bows.

"My lord, I bear ill tidings from the queen. She asked that I give ou the message as soon as I reached Ithilien."

(Elrond's PoV)

Our power is failing. All too soon this twice beloved haven will be empty, no more than a memory carried across the sea. The time of the Elves has ended.

From my balcony I can see the whole of Imladris. The starlight is fading from the waters. No more will Elves sing from the trees or dance upon the grass. Only I and a few others remain; soon not even we shall grace this fair valley.

When we have departed, Imladris will return to what it once was. It, like Lorien, will fade into the past. Yet the blessings of our people will remain. For Middle Earth can not remain in peace forever. It may be that one day men will need a haven which evil can not enter.

'Varda, may that day be long in coming.'

But not all is sorrow. Soon I shall walk the sands of pearl. And beyond them I shall see my Celebrian again, whole and beautiful. We shall have all of eternity together.

Alas that Arwen shall not be with us. My daughter-

The twang of a bowstring cuts through my thoughts just as the arrow it has released cuts through the air. With a heavy thunk, the black-feathered shaft embeds itself in an ornately carved pillar mere inces from my head. A message is rolled around it. To see better, I move into the light of a nearby torch.

To Elrond, lord of Imladris,

Greetings

You may not remember me, but I know you, son of Elwing.

Do you remember a maid whom you cast out? Do you recall Relomore? If you do not you shall soon enough.

I have your son.

The message is written in blood and I don't need to guess whose it is.

"Elladan, Elrohir!"

My plan is falling into place so easily. Soon the free peoples shall bow at my feet. My father would be proud.