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Prologue
"My Lady, your thoughts seem a little far off this evening."
She turned her gaze toward him, yet still looked through him, and beyond into depths he could not penetrate.
"The shadow has grown very dark."
Galadriel gave no hint that she intended to speak further and so he withdrew. Later he would curse himself too Mordor and beyond for not having heeded the warning.
Chapter the first
He had imagined it would be noisier than it was in the end. When Doriath had crumbled its demise had been accompanied by a cacophony of screams and thundering masonry. He had not expected that the sound of the world once more splintering around him could be so silent.
Something was wrong, he could feel it deep inside, there was a change in the air and Galadriel was gone from their chambers. Donning his heavy forest cloak Celeborn stepped out into the night. He moved through the trees as silently as a ghost, listening sharply for any slip of his beloved's voice on the breeze, but it was all in vain and the world was still as death.
Then at last he caught sight of her, shining white beneath Elbereth's gentle light. She looked serene and untroubled. Oh Valar, he thought, forgive an elf his silliness, relief coursed through him and he prepared to turn back.
"Do not touch the water…" Galadriel's voice
The hobbit was leaning far over into the mirror, a chain falling from his shirt, almost touching the smooth silvery surface. Galadriel's eyes were fixed upon the speck of gold glinting upon the Hobbit's chest. She moved slowly forward as if transfixed but it.
"My wife, is it not a little late to be about?"
"Husband," Galadriel looked up sharply as if startled by his approach. "I am showing our guest the wisdom of the mirror. I had thought it might help his quest."
"This is the Ringbearer is it not?" Celeborn asked quietly regarding the small being.
"Yes Lord, my name is Frodo."
Celeborn smiled warmly. "I have memories harking back to the days before the Sun little one. I will not forget your name so easily."
Frodo blushed scarlet and mumbled needless apologies.
"The Ringbearer has foreseen death and ruin in the mirror." Galadriel spoke softly and in Quenya so that their guest would not understand.
Celeborn frowned at the secrecy and replied in the common speech. "You yourself have said often that the mirror shows only what may come to pass."
"What does my vision mean? Will my friends truly suffer?"
"It is not certain," Galadriel assured him, but her tone was far from consoling.
"I do not want it to come to pass. I will give you the ring and you can succeed where I will fail."
"Frodo, no!" Celeborn ordered sharply, but already it was too late and Galadriel seemed to come alive with power.
"You would offer it freely?" She said breathlessly as the ring hung temptingly upon its silver chain.
"Galadriel this is folly. No good can come of this." Celeborn's tone had grown urgent. "Frodo run from here, flee Lorien you are no longer safe."
The young hobbit stumbled away out of the garden but it was too late and Galadriel was roused to her full, terrifying strength. Celeborn threw himself in her path and tried to stay her advance but she knocked him aside as if he were no more than breath of wind.
"No! You shall not take it." Celeborn cried out struggling once more to his feet to come to the hobbit's aid. She held the petrified creature in a vice like grip, Celeborn went pale as he saw his own hunting knife at the young boy's throat.
"Give it to me Frodo and I will let you live." She whispered softly in his ear.
"No," his high voice was full of panic. "Lord Celeborn!"
Too late did Celeborn realise what Frodo was about to do. He vanished from sight and even as he did so the knife flashed forward. He staggered forward, the ring falling from his limp fingers as his life's blood drained from his body. He became visible as he hit the floor. Celeborn could barely breathe with horror and anger.
Kneeling beside the still form he seized it. The body was light like a child and flopped lifelessly onto its back. Celeborn found himself staring into the terror-struck face of the gentle young hobbit he'd met only hours ago. Wet blood stained the front of Frodo's tunic and neck, his throat had been cut. Celeborn stood up quickly in disgust. Less than a hands breadth away lay his own hunting knife, it's white handle marred by the Hobbit's blood.
He had to keep the ring from her at all costs. If she gained it then the world would have no hope against Sauron. So he ran, all his grace sacrificed for speed as he fled for the sake of middle earth, with the Ring of Power, soaked in blood, clenched in his hand. If he could only keep it from her long enough then she might yet return to herself long enough to relent.
After a few minutes of breathless flight between the trees he slowed, realising she was no longer in immediate pursuit. He climbed the branches of a young mallorn and sat stock still, hidden by its dense foliage. A few moments was all he needed, a few moments to think.
He turned the ring over and over in the palm of his hand. All else seemed to melt away when he looked upon it. Never ending, never beginning, a perfect circle of power. And then he understood so clearly, it was so simple, why had he not thought of it before. There was a beautifully simple way to keep it from her, so simple that he wanted to laugh out loud.
He could claim it, even if only for a little while, only long enough to conquer Mordor. But, something in his mind whispered treacherously, once Sauron had gone then it would be safe to keep it. He could have the ring all to himself. Then who would dare to overlook the Lord of Lorien? Never again would he be humiliated while Galadriel held court. Never again would it be Galadriel they spoke of, Galadriel they feared. No, he would be Lord of Lorien…and all the elves beside.
"Folly," whispered the trees, "folly, folly!"
He almost dropped the ring in his shock. Then the horror of what he had been about to do hit him with full force. Mere seconds more and all of middle earth might have been lost. He had to find the Fellowship and return this burden, and he had to do it soon. He had blind to even think of carrying it himself. Skin crawling with self-revulsion he pressed a silent caress of thanks onto the trunk of the tree and once more ploughed on into the night.
He almost tripped up over the sleeping form of the dwarf, who jerked awake with a violent start.
"What are you doing sneaking around here, elf?" It barked.
"Your silence please," Celeborn pleaded, peering anxiously over his shoulder.
"I'll not be silent when elves come pushing their noses in my business."
"Gimli!" Another voice cut in sharply, an elven voice, "do not be so discourteous, do you not you to whom you speak?"
Celeborn waved aside Gimli's half formed apology.
"You must leave this place at one, you are in grave peril. My Lady Wife…" He stopped, unable to continue as he fought three different emotions. "Rouse your companions Prince and flee this realm. The Lady of the Wood will not leave you in peace for long."
"Where is the ring?"
"Here." Celeborn said, unfolding his fingers. "You must take it and leave now."
Legolas shied away in fear. "No my lord I cannot, do not ask me to…"
The Dwarf, who had gone white beneath his beard, now spoke up harshly. "The Lady of the wood is not capable of such madness."
"A mere hour ago, Master Dwarf, I would have agreed with you." Celeborn snapped back. "Now Thranduillion, do you also call me liar?"
Legolas did not rise to the unspoken challenge, "Nay lord. I do not say you lie. I will lead you to our friends."
The Prince stalked ahead of them, tension evident in his poise as he walked. The dwarf, Gimli, had taken the rear while Celeborn wandered as if in a dream, staring at the ring in his hand. All he had to do was put it on – such a small trinket- surely he could master it.
"Lord Celeborn?"
"Yes," he snapped, angry at having been disturbed in his contemplation.
"Our companions rest just a little further away, beneath the trees on the far side of the clearing."
Haldir walked slowly and stealthily beneath the Mallorn. His senses were stretched to their fullest extent listening for any movement. A dark shadow appeared beneath the trees on the far side of the clearing. It was moving quickly and urgently towards the edges of Caras Galadhon.
"Stop," he called out, notching an arrow in his bow. "Come forth and be recognised," he demanded. The figure lowered its hood revealing the face of the Mirkwood prince.
"Peace," he said, "I mean no harm. Why do you go forth armed within the city?"
"The ring-bearer lies dead, slain by Lord Celeborn's blade. The Lady has bid us to find it and whoever has taken the lord."
"Dead?" Legolas's expression was one of shock and horror.
Celeborn's blood had turned to ice in his veins. The trap had closed shut, and he had driven it further into his flesh by keeping Frodo's death from them. She had made him seem the murderer and the criminal, no one would help him now. After the initial panicked seconds he began to think; Haldir had not seen him yet, there might still be time to get away. He began to edge slowly away into the undergrowth. Suddenly his path was halted as a dwarvish axe was placed sharply against his back.
"Move, and I will run you through." He said in a low voice, speaking so only Celeborn could hear him.
"I have not done this." Celeborn said desperately. "I have not I swear it by Elbereth and Eru himself I have not. Let me flee or we will all suffer."
"Legolas!" The dwarf spoke up loudly for all to hear. "Hand him over and be done with it. He has deceived us and tried to run to Mordor using our protection."
