Chapter One

The elf-maiden stared out at the horizon.

It was over. After so many centuries it was over. Now they could rebuild.

But she wondered what world would accept her-Middle-Earth or the Lands of the Undying? She knew whose blood she carried.

Elves as a rule were not given to the prejudices of mankind- but even so… she feared their hatred and rejection. After all so many innocents died- was it right that she- a daughter and granddaughter of so-called "kinslayers" would get to live? Was it fair?

They would always hold her in suspicion. And her family… They were either in the bliss of Valinor or in the Halls of Mandos- suffering doom. Her heart wrenched and shattered.

They were gone. For all the talk that elves lived as long as there is an Arda they were now gone, lost to her. And although she might not have stained her hands in the blood of her own kind she had little doubt that she would be welcome back to Valinor. So weighed down by guilt was she that she would have never returned to the life of bliss and joy that she once had and should have lived if her family had made other decisions. Even if it was possible to live without the grief of eternal loss.

The name of her kin would forever darken the histories of the elves. She knew that to be true. They were all cursed- doomed. The blood in her veins was cursed. They would forever call her cursed and say that despite all the accomplishments that no good would ever come of one of hers.

Not unless she tried to redeem herself and her remaining kin. There might be nothing she could do to her lost ones, but there was the future to salvage. She would end the curse for their sakes and most importantly make right the wrongs that were so heavily placed- or try to. If it could not be achieved she could at least forge a new path for them all. Prove not only to the world but to themselves they were different and possessed the ability to do good in the world. For did I ask to be born with this blood in my veins?

She nodded to the others and silently they placed their helms on their heads and readied themselves to leave.

Centuries Later…

Gil-Galad surveyed the damage- undoubtedly most of it was in flames, much was lost except for in lives. None of the townspeople were dead and few if any, were injured. This baffled him.

Could it be because whoever these people were- they were simply trying to make a statement of some kind- show their strength? He thought to himself. Some of them looked dazed, astonished and so much more. And it wasn't just because they had just met the High Elven King. They did not look that traumatised even though they had just lost a great deal of their earthly possessions.

He turned to one of his most trusted lieutenants- "What has happened here?" he asked.

The soldier frowned, his brow furrowing. "They said it was orcs, my lord."

"Orcs?" Now Gil-Galad was even more baffled than he had been before. "Since when did orcs leave a human or dwarf settlement without taking even one life?"

It wasn't the orcs that spared them, my liege," a rider came into view. He halted his horse and looked at the High King straight in the eyes. "It was the elves that saved them?" The High King was still confused.

"Elves?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Were they Sindarin- Silvan?" "Not that we know of," another soldier had just arrived. "I was treating a few of the townspeople and they said that the elves that came to their rescue killed of all the orcs then sent a message making sure we would come. They had already treated a few that were critically injured and when they heard that we were coming they left. They did not even answer the people's questions on their identity. The people said that they were led by the most beautiful and fair copper-haired elleth." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "They described the elves armour. They had no standards, no banner. But I think they were of the Noldor."

"We did not send any aid before ever got here or even reinforcements afterwards!" Another exclaimed. The first ellon shrugged. "Apparently that is what they told me and that is what we deduced from the descriptions of their armour and weaponry." The group exchanged befuddled looks. Once during the War of the Jewels or the War of Wrath as it was known, there had been many Noldorin kingdoms and settlements. But these were believed to have been destroyed and the inhabitants had either all left for the Undying Lands back to Valinor or they had been slain in defence- or else scattered when there was no one to lead them. As for the maiden…

"A shieldmaiden?" he wondered aloud. There were such things as shieldmaidens but as most females of any race preferred other practices. They were very rare- that is if their societies would permit it. Elves did- but other races- such as the dwarves- had very few females and dwarrowdams were fiercely guarded as if they were treasure themselves. Other races such as men believed their women either to be treasures like the dwarves and treated with utter delicacy or else they believed that women were weaker and less intelligent and their place was in the home. No one even knew if there were any orc females but how else did they reproduce?

Gil-Galad turned to his elves. "Send out the supplies." He said. "Stay with them- help them rebuild." It would not take them to long. "Hopefully the ashes would serve to nourish the soil of the farms. They would be able to grow again." They nodded and respectfully murmured their agreements. Gil-Galad left back for Lindon- he needed to ponder this.

This wasn't the first report of an outrageously beautiful copper-haired shieldmaiden he had received. He doubted it would be the last. Shieldmaidens were rare, but copper-haired ones- well how many elves claimed to have such hair?

Hair for the elves mostly came in shades of spun gold, woven silver and polished jet. In Aman, yes, there were those with shades of burnished copper- well, he knew only a handful.

Gil-Galad remembered all too clearly. He remembered Nerdanel the Wise who had inherited that shade from her father. Three of her sons possessed that colouring. The two youngest, the twins and Maitimo.

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion, called by his close kin Russandol, and by the Sindar: Maedhros the Tall, had been his father's closest friend. He still remembered watching them spar- he had never seen anything so elegant and graceful, so masterful and precise. That awed him above all else- the elegance, grace, subtlety of it- and the precision. Nothing like overdramatic showing-off he'd seen in tournaments and other competitions, nothing like the over-fancy dancing of the lords and ladies of any court, it was a mastery of perfection in combat. Posture, movements, everything. He had never seen anything like it and doubted he ever would again.

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion had been one of the few warriors of any race that had died undefeated. Gil-Galad did not think that anyone could have fought the way he did- his sword was like, but even swifter and deadlier than lightning. All one saw was a flash of light and not one, not two, either five or six orcs were dead- or so his father always said. He had practiced numerous times to be like him- even the loss of his right hand only served to make Maedhros more deadly to his foes.

Gil-Galad forced his thoughts back to the shieldmaiden. He was only remembering Maedhros simply because the maiden had the colour of his hair and, according to eyewitness accounts, his style of fighting- although they made it sound feminine too. But…

Then suddenly it was as if he had been struck in the face. No, it cannot be… he thought. A rush of excitement and wariness flooded through him. Nelyafinwiel.

It couldn't be. Surely it wasn't possible, but it was.

Maitimo had a daughter.

Vividly he remembered the girl, she had been an elfling the last time he saw her, roughly the same age he was. He remembered hiding behind bushes, spying on her just to see her dance in the garden, but somehow, never being brave enough to even meet her face to face, despite being distant kin.

What was her name? He couldn't remember.

Of course he could be wrong, which was why he could not voice this out to anyone just yet- if ever.

No, if this really was the same elfling that grew into a maiden, it was best if he kept her identity a secret. After all, elves might not hold prejudiced beliefs that a child is equally responsible for the sins of their parents and grandparents, but all the same... it was dangerous ground they were treading if anyone so much as suspected that a Fëanorian still lived.

Unease delved into him, but before he could dwell any further another elf arrived and came up to him. He recognized him as Galdor, an aide of Lord Círdan the Shipwright. He nodded respectfully.

"My Lord Ereinion," Galdor murmured. Gil-Galad inclined his head. "Galdor of the Havens. Is something the matter?"

"It is about the shieldmaiden, my King." Galdor answered, bringing his horse closer. Galdor had never been comfortable with horses, Gil-Galad remembered. This was a shipwright's aide and apprentice, who preferred to either walk on land or sail on open water. But Galdor seemed to be hiding any discomfort very well, or else it was something that distracted him.

The silver-haired elf looked at Gil-Galad. "There have been reports of mercenary pirates- corsairs from the lands in the east raiding shores close to Dúnedain and Northmen territories, looting and pillaging, sacking whole settlements and enslaving the inhabitants. They say that they are now allied with the King's Men."

Gil-Galad gritted his teeth. The King's Men were men of Númenor, who were questioning their ancestors' decision to remain mortal, albeit with a much longer life. They had begun to become so hateful, especially to elves- and for someone who had personally overseen to the bringing of plant-life, literature, building materials, cloth, food and drink, not to mention architects, scholars, tutors and people of many crafts and talents, to nurture the land of Númenor, teach them and make them into a civilisation that all other humans envied, and held in more awe than imagined, yet still they expelled or made outcasts of elves that have helped them all their lives, and looked down upon their fellow man. They also severed all ties with the elven kingdoms by trade and by diplomacy and quite frankly they were becoming increasingly insulting.

He turned his gaze to Galdor who winced seeing the look inside those piercing eyes.

Gil-Galad knew they were being insufferable, but he had no idea they were now becoming a serious threat. This was a bigger betrayal and danger than he had previously imagined, but wait-

"Did you say this has something about the shieldmaiden?" he asked baffled.

"They attacked several villages and towns, then this mystery shieldmaiden arrived and beat them back. She and her followers rescued as many as they could. They rebuilt, equipped and taught some forms of defence, supplied and treated as many as they could and delivered prisoners to our court in Lindon. Then, they left."

Gil-Galad stared at the Haven elf and sighed. "That's yet another report on the doings of this mysterious elleth. So what do we have here?"

Gil-Galad managed a wry smile. "We have our former allies turning against us because they are jealous of our immortality, knowledge, power and so forth, and stamping out anyone amongst their numbers who so happen to disagree. We have them allying or enslaving other humans and attacking our friends and allies. And then we have a mysterious and apparently exceptionally beautiful shieldmaiden appearing out of nowhere and without her and those that follow her, we would have suffered twice the damage if not more. Yet we cannot even find her and thank her. Nor can we make an alliance."

Lindon's court was just baffled with everything as Gil-Galad was. The High King groaned as he ascended the dais to his throne.

"Who is here to speak?" he asked.

"My Lord King may I present, Calassion of Eriador." Elrond formally announced.

The High King beckoned his head and the silver-haired elf stepped forwards and bowed.

"Pray speak," the High King said. "What is it that requires you to travel all this way from Eriador?"

The elf took a deep breath. "My King, the King's Men of Númenor have settled in Umbar." At this Gil-Galad sat straighter. "They have control of the local population, and have enslaved them or else placed them under submission. It is to our knowledge that they are building up in strength." Gil-Galad's fists clenched his throne tighter.

"Strength, you say," he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. "Please, be more specific."

Calassion took a deep breath. "Ships, my Lord King. They are building more ships of great speed and manoeuvrability, yet strong enough to take on full assaults. They are also stocking up in arms and forcing more and more of the inhabitants to farm to feed them, increasing their supplies."

Everyone was silent.

"So you believe they mean war?" the king asked in a deadly-quiet voice. "How do you know of this?"

"I have seen them." And the elf looked up straight into Gil-Galad's sapphire eyes. "I… took a foolhardy trip to the coasts and I saw…" he winced.

Elrond came to his rescue. "My King I can safely vouch for this person's word on the matter-"

"How intriguing." A voice drawled. Gil-Galad supressed a groan and turned to the direction of one of his (least favourite) counsellors. Artaner sneered.

"My Lord Artraner," Gil-Galad barely managed to control his annoyance. "Have you something to say? If so, please say it."

"How can we know for certain that this ellon is not mistaken? How can we be sure- I mean the King's Men can hardly be called pleasant, but to accuse them of preparing for war- that is almost a declaration itself, of one, on our part, which, could be a reasonable excuse for war."

Shut up, Gil-Galad was tempted to say.

"So what is it that you are suggesting?" the king said barely managing to keep his temper under control.

"I suggest nothing," Artaner said smoothly, to which Gil-Galad had to bite back a retort. "I only ask, how can he know for certain."

In answer the ellon pulled out something. Gil-Galad leaned forwards and saw a scrap of bloody cloth with an emblem…

It hit him even before he even saw the design. It was the banner of war for the King's Men. And it was stained already in blood.

"A bold declaration indeed," Elrond said firmly.

"This was displayed on their ships," the man said. "They were making more, and the captains were ordering them to be put up… the maiden asked me to give you this."

Gil-Galad frowned. "What maiden?"

Calassion took a deep breath. "A shieldmaiden- an impossibly beautiful one- with copper hair."

At once there was an outburst of noise.

Everyone started talking excitedly on this new development. Gil-Galad stood frozen for a few seconds before shouting for silence.

"Are you perhaps referring to," Gil-Galad said slowly. "The shieldmaiden who rescued, well, everyone?"

Calassion looked him in the eye and nodded. "Yes, my King."

"Unbelievable!" Artaner exclaimed. "This shieldmaiden again! My King, how can we be certain, this maiden-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence. Gil-Galad cut him off. "We can never be certain of anything, Artaner," he said. "But we can at least look at the facts. Has this elleth ever, done anything to merit our slightest disapproval?"

"No, but-"

"Has this shieldmaiden enslaved, robbed or treated anyone harshly save our enemies?"

"No, but-"

"Has this maiden been stupid, reckless, or remotely unsuccessful in her attempts to save others- of which, I doubt, anyone can fully count?"

"My King!" Artaner protested. "I do not say she is inefficient, nor do I say that she is cruel, we just do not know who she is, where her allegiance lies and surely we cannot trust anyone straight away without even knowing them? After all this could be a plot to gain our trust and affection but in reality, to betray us when we least expect it-"

Gil-Galad raised an eyebrow. "Are you so afraid of betrayal then? You forget those ruling in Númenor were once our utmost friends and allies. If you want to see a threat, turn to their direction. We have every reason to feel threatened by them." He pointed to the banner.

"My King this could be a forgery!" Artaner protested.

"Or maybe someone does not wish to see that there is war in the horizon," Elrond said. "And although I can understand that. I am also a healer and I have examined the blood on the banner, and we have examined the banner itself- myself and a few others. It is of the King's Men, and the blood is that of an elf's."

There was a sharp breath drawn and everyone looked at each other in dismay.

"Murder!" someone hissed.

"War!" shouted another. "This is a declaration of war!"

"It most certainly is," Gil-Galad said in a smooth tone which was even more dangerous than before. "They are most certainly planning war, are they stupid enough, however to declare it? Did they leave out this banner on purpose? Do they know that we are seeing this, at this very moment- a banner of war stained with the blood of one of ours?"

Calassion took a deep breath. "I believe so, my King."

"Then," the High King said. "It is war."

Unlike before, there was no murmuring, no whispering, no shouting. There was only a shocked, stilled silence as Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Eldar upon Middle-Earth stood up, descended from his throne and strode out of the room.